#asset...associate...he'd be saying whatever

[peachymaryobrien]

Flo: Who's this pretty girl you're working with? I see the way you look at her.

Lockwood: That's oomf.

[mrs-delaney]

may i request joey's first christmas w/ y/n's family and hes obvs nervous but hes just being perfect like vibes and gifts wise its just perfect n they have a little moment after everyones asleep pls 🥹🥹

pairing: joe burrow x reader 🏈 wc: ~5.8k a/n: i’m not gonna lie, i’m pretty proud of this one. i based the grandmother off my own beloved gram, and her nickname was sissy—so you’ll find her sprinkled all throughout this fic. 🤍🎄 and yes, as a babe in finance, i really wanted to write about us babes navigating cis male–dominated workspaces.

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The house looked like Christmas had exploded all over it.

Joe stood on the front porch of your parents' house in Frisco, taking in the scene through the glass storm door while you fumbled with your keys. Every surface visible from outside was draped in garland, twinkling lights, or some combination of both. A massive inflatable snowman swayed gently in the front yard, and the roof was lined with icicle lights that probably required their own electrical panel.

"It's a lot," you said, glancing back at him with a wince. "I tried to warn you."

"You did not prepare me for this." His voice was dry, but there was a flicker of something in his expression—amusement, maybe, but also something tighter underneath. His hand found the small of your back, fingers pressing just slightly harder than usual.

You'd noticed it all morning. The way he kept touching you—small, grounding gestures that felt more like he was steadying himself than you. The way he'd been quieter than usual on the drive from the airport, watching the Texas sprawl roll past the window while his thumb traced absent patterns on your knee.

Joe didn't get nervous. You'd seen him walk into stadiums with eighty thousand screaming people and look like he was strolling into a coffee shop. But today, something was different. Today, it mattered to him.

Eight months ago, you'd been in a conference room in Cincinnati, running portfolio projections while your senior partner droned on about asset allocation. You were the junior associate—the one who prepared the documents, double-checked the numbers, and spoke only when spoken to. Joe had been just another client. High-profile, sure, but you'd worked with athletes before. They were all the same: distracted, impatient, eager to sign whatever was put in front of them so they could get back to their actual lives.

Except Joe wasn't like that. He'd asked questions—real ones, sharp ones that made your senior partner stumble. And when Luke had fumbled the answer, Joe's eyes had cut to you. Like he'd noticed you doing the math in the margins of your notepad. Like he knew exactly who in that room understood what they were talking about.

After that, he'd requested you in every meeting. And then he'd found reasons to schedule more meetings. And then one night, after everyone else had left the office, he'd looked at you across a table covered in quarterly reports and said, "Have dinner with me. Not as a client."

You'd said yes. And then you'd spent three weeks convincing yourself you hadn't just torpedoed your entire career for a pair of blue eyes and a dry sense of humor.

Your firm had policies about this. Fraternization with clients wasn't explicitly forbidden, but it was heavily discouraged—the kind of thing that got whispered about in break rooms, that followed you into performance reviews, that made partners question your judgment. You'd worked so hard to get where you were. Four years of grinding, of being the first one in and the last one out, of proving you belonged in rooms full of men who assumed you were there to take notes.

And you'd risked all of it for him.

Standing on your parents' porch now, watching Joe try to hold himself together, you didn't regret it. Not even a little. But you understood the weight of what you'd done—and more importantly, you understood that Joe understood it too. That was part of why today mattered so much to him. He knew what you'd gambled. And he was determined to prove it wasn't a losing bet.

Before you could turn the key, the door flew open.

"Sissy!" Your mom appeared in the doorway, already pulling you into a hug before you'd fully crossed the threshold. Nancy looked exactly like she always did at Christmas—red sweater with a glitter snowflake pattern, hair freshly done, the kind of warm energy that made everyone feel immediately welcome.

"Hey, Mama," you laughed, hugging her back.

She released you just enough to turn her attention to Joe, and you watched his posture shift—not obviously, not in a way anyone else would notice, but you saw it. The way his shoulders squared, just slightly. The way his smile turned on like a switch.

"And you must be Joe," Nancy said, already reaching for him. "Get in here, we don't do handshakes in this house."

Joe let himself be pulled into a hug with the kind of easy grace that made it look natural, even though you knew it wasn't. "It's so nice to finally meet you, Mrs.—"

"Nancy," your mom corrected, patting his back. "None of that." She pulled back, hands on his shoulders, giving him the kind of assessing look that only mothers could pull off. "Lord, you're even more handsome in person. Sissy's pictures don't do you justice."

"Mom," you groaned.

Joe just smiled—that practiced, camera-ready smile you'd learned to see through. "Thank you for having me. Your home is beautiful."

"Well, come on in, come on." Nancy ushered you both inside, and the chaos hit immediately.

The interior was somehow even more aggressively festive than the exterior. A massive tree dominated the living room, so covered in ornaments that you could barely see the branches. Stockings lined the mantle—you counted seven, including two new ones that hadn't been there last year. Candles flickered on every flat surface. Alan Jackson crooned from a speaker somewhere.

And then there was your family.

Your dad emerged from the kitchen, dish towel slung over his shoulder, reading glasses perched on his head. Bobby had the kind of presence that filled a room—not loud, exactly, but substantial. The kind of man who'd coached your soccer team and taught you to change a tire and still texted you memes he didn't fully understand.

"There she is," he said, wrapping you in a bear hug that lifted you slightly off the ground. "Merry Christmas, sweetheart."

"Merry Christmas, Daddy."

When he released you, his attention shifted to Joe. You watched your dad's expression—that careful, measuring look he got when he was sizing someone up. Bobby extended his hand.

"Joe. Good to finally meet the man who's been keeping my daughter so busy."

"The pleasure's mine, sir." Joe's handshake was firm, his posture perfect. "Thank you for letting me crash Christmas."

"Bobby," your dad corrected, the same way your mom had. "And you're not crashing anything. Anyone who makes Sissy smile like that is welcome at our table."

Something flickered across Joe's face—brief, quickly controlled—but you caught it. A crack in the composure.

Before anyone could say more, a small body came barreling around the corner.

"SISSY!"

Hayes launched himself at your legs with the full-body commitment of a three-year-old who'd been waiting by the window for an hour. You scooped him up, pressing kisses to his cheeks while he giggled and squirmed.

"Hi, baby boy! Oh my gosh, you got so big! When did you get so big?"

"I'm three now," Hayes announced, holding up three fingers. "I had a dinosaur cake."

"A dinosaur cake! I remember—it was so cool."

Hayes's attention shifted to the stranger standing next to you. He studied Joe with the unfiltered intensity only small children could manage.

"Who's that?"

"This is Joe," you said. "He's Sissy's... friend."

Joe crouched down to Hayes's level, and something about the gesture made your chest tight. The way he made himself small, unintimidating. The way he waited for Hayes to come to him instead of pushing.

"Hey, buddy," Joe said. "I heard you like dinosaurs. What's your favorite?"

Hayes considered this with grave seriousness. "T-Rex. Because he's the biggest and the scariest."

"Solid choice." Joe nodded like they were discussing something important. "Mine's the velociraptor. They were actually pretty small—only about the size of a turkey—but they were smart. Hunted in packs."

Hayes's eyes went wide. "A turkey?"

"Yep. But with big claws." Joe held up his hand, curving his fingers into talons. "They'd go like this—" He made a slashing motion that had Hayes dissolving into delighted giggles.

Lauren appeared in the doorway, Ash beside her, watching the exchange with the knowing smile of a woman who'd already formed her opinion and found it favorable.

"Should've known Hayes would abandon us the second you walked in," Lauren said, pulling you into a tight hug. "Merry Christmas, Sissy."

"Merry Christmas." You hugged her back, then Ash, who squeezed you just as tight.

"He's cute," Ash said quietly, eyes cutting to where Joe was still crouched, listening intently as Hayes explained the hierarchy of dinosaurs. "And good with kids. Lauren owes me twenty bucks."

"You bet on my boyfriend?"

"We bet on whether he'd be awkward with Hayes or a natural," Lauren corrected. "I said awkward. I was wrong."

Joe must have sensed the attention, because he looked up, catching your eye. There it was again—that slight tension in his jaw, the careful awareness of being observed. But then Hayes tugged on his sleeve, demanding his attention back, and Joe let himself be pulled back into the conversation like it was the most important thing in the world.

"Sissy." A softer voice, from the chair by the window.

Gram sat where she always sat—the same floral armchair she'd claimed years ago, positioned where she could see the whole room without being in the middle of it. Her white hair was pinned back neatly, and she wore the same pearl earrings she'd worn every Christmas for as long as you could remember.

You crossed to her immediately, bending to press a kiss to her cheek. "Merry Christmas, Gram."

"Merry Christmas, baby." Her hand came up to cup your face, the way it always had. "You look happy."

"I am."

Her eyes drifted to Joe, who had stood up and was now shaking Lauren's hand while Hayes clung to his leg like a koala. "That's him?"

"That's him."

Gram studied him for a long moment—the kind of quiet, thorough assessment that missed nothing. "Bring the boy over here."

—

The gift exchange started after dinner.

Your family had always done it this way—everyone gathered in the living room, passing presents around one at a time so everyone could watch each person open theirs. It was chaotic and loud and took three times longer than it needed to, but it was tradition.

Joe sat beside you on the couch, close enough that your thighs pressed together. Hayes had migrated to his lap at some point and showed no signs of leaving, which meant Joe was currently trying to hold a conversation with your dad while a three-year-old drove a toy truck up and down his arm.

"So the defense is the real issue," Bobby was saying, leaning forward in his chair with the intensity of a man who'd been waiting to have this conversation. "I keep telling people—you can't win championships without stopping the run. Doesn't matter how good your offense is."

Joe nodded, absently moving his arm to give Hayes a better racing surface. "I mean, you're not wrong. It's a balance. But the analytics are starting to show that forcing turnovers matters more than stopping yards. Like, you can give up three hundred yards passing if you're creating pressure and getting picks."

Bobby's eyebrows rose. He looked at you with something like approval.

"He knows his stuff," your dad said.

"He better," you said. "It's literally his job."

"Sissy," your mom called from across the room. "Why don't you hand out the gifts?"

You started pulling packages from under the tree, reading names and passing them around. Hayes abandoned Joe's lap long enough to tear into his presents with the savage enthusiasm of a small child, paper flying everywhere while Lauren tried to keep track of what was from whom.

"This one's for you, Daddy." You handed your dad a large, flat box. "It's from Joe."

The room went slightly quieter. Not silent—your family was incapable of silence—but there was a shift in attention. Everyone wanted to see what the boyfriend had brought.

Joe's hand found your knee, squeezing once.

Bobby opened the box with deliberate care, the way he did everything. He pushed aside the tissue paper, and then he stopped.

"Son," he said slowly. "Are these—"

"Mavs tickets," Joe confirmed. "Courtside. For a game in April. I figured—" He paused, and you felt the tension in his grip on your knee. "I figured we could go together. If you wanted."

Your dad stared at the tickets for a long moment. When he looked up, his eyes were suspiciously bright.

"April," Bobby repeated.

"Yeah." Joe's voice was steady, but you could hear what was underneath it—the careful weight of the choice. "I'll be in town. Off-season."

The implication hung in the air. This wasn't a polite gesture, a one-time meeting-the-parents gift. This was Joe saying he planned to be here. That this wasn't temporary. That your family's future included him in it.

Your dad stood up, crossed the room, and pulled Joe into a hug that clearly caught him off guard. Joe recovered quickly, returning it with both arms, his eyes finding yours over your dad's shoulder.

"Thank you," Bobby said, gruff. "This is—thank you."

"Thank you for raising her," Joe said quietly. So quiet you almost didn't catch it.

Your mom was definitely crying now. Lauren was pretending not to notice. Ash was filming on her phone, which would absolutely end up in the family group chat later.

"Okay, okay," you said, blinking hard. "Mom's turn. Mom, this one's from Joe too."

Nancy took the envelope with trembling hands. She opened it, read the card inside, and immediately burst into fresh tears.

"What is it?" Lauren asked.

"A spa day," Nancy managed. "For me and the girls. All four of us."

"I heard you've been stressed at work," Joe said, and you watched your mom's expression shift—from touched to something deeper, something that looked a lot like recognition. He'd been listening. Not just to you, but to the things you said about her. Filing them away. Remembering.

"Joe." Nancy pressed her hand to her chest. "This is too much."

"It's really not." He said it simply, without false modesty. Just fact. "You raised her. I think that deserves a lot more than a spa day."

Nancy crossed the room to hug him, and this time Joe was ready for it, wrapping his arms around her like he'd been doing it for years.

"You're a good man," she said into his shoulder. "I can tell."

Something flickered across Joe's face—brief, vulnerable—before he controlled it. "I'm trying to be."

—

Later, while everyone else was in the kitchen debating pie versus cake, you found Joe standing alone by the window.

He was watching the street outside—the inflatable snowman still swaying, the neighbors' lights blinking in synchronized patterns. His reflection in the glass looked tired. The composed mask had slipped just slightly, revealing the strain underneath.

You slid your arms around him from behind, pressing your cheek to his back.

"Hey," he said softly.

"Hey." You tightened your grip. "You okay?"

"Yeah." He covered your hands with his, threading your fingers together. "Just... a lot of people."

"I know." You pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades. "You're doing great. They love you."

"You sure?"

The question was genuine—not fishing for compliments, but actually uncertain. It made your heart ache a little, the way he couldn't quite believe it.

"Joe. My dad cried. My dad doesn't cry."

He huffed out a quiet laugh. "Yeah, that was... I didn't expect that."

"He's already texted the family group chat about those tickets three times. Three times, Joe. He's never texted three times in one day in his life."

Joe turned in your arms, pulling you close so your head rested against his chest. His heartbeat was steady under your ear.

"Good," he said. "That's... that's good."

You stayed like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other while the sounds of your family drifted in from the kitchen. Hayes's high-pitched laughter. Your mom saying something that made Lauren snort. The clink of dishes being moved around.

"Sissy."

You both turned. Gram stood in the doorway to the living room, watching you with those sharp, knowing eyes.

"Would you give us a minute, baby? I want to talk to Joe."

You looked up at Joe, caught the flicker of something—nerves, maybe—before he schooled his expression and nodded.

"I'll go help Mom," you said, squeezing his hand once before you went.

You glanced back from the doorway. Gram had settled back into her chair by the window, and Joe was lowering himself onto the ottoman across from her, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. The posture of someone ready to listen.

—

Joe met Gram's eyes and waited.

She studied him for a long moment—not unkindly, but thoroughly. The kind of look that made him feel like she could see everything he was trying to hold together.

"You know," Gram said finally, "I've been watching you all day."

Joe's hands clasped between his knees. "Yes, ma'am."

"You've been trying very hard." It wasn't an accusation. Just an observation. "Working so hard to get everything right. The gifts. The conversations. The way you hold yourself."

Joe didn't deny it. Couldn't, really. She'd seen through it the way nobody else had—or at least, nobody else had called it out.

"I know what it looks like," Gram continued, "when someone loves my granddaughter. I've seen it before, in men who weren't worth her time. But that's not what I see in you."

Joe's jaw tightened. "What do you see?"

"I see someone who's scared." Gram's voice was gentle. "Not of us. Not really. Scared of wanting this too much. Of letting yourself have it."

The words landed somewhere in his chest and stuck there. He exhaled slowly, deliberately, trying to keep his expression neutral.

"My husband was like that," Gram said. "Fifty-two years we had together, and the whole first year he kept waiting for me to figure out he wasn't good enough. Kept working so hard to prove himself, even though he already had."

Joe couldn't speak. Something was building in his throat, hot and tight.

"You don't have to prove anything, Joe." Gram reached out and patted his knee, her hand small and warm. "You love her. Anyone with eyes can see it. And she loves you. The rest is just details."

"I want to be good enough for her," Joe said. The words came out rough, unpolished. "I want—" He stopped, swallowed. "She risked a lot to be with me. Her career, her—I don't want to be something she regrets."

"Oh, honey." Gram's eyes were soft. "That girl has never regretted a single thing in her life. She does what she wants, and she wants you. Trust that."

Joe blinked hard, looking away toward the window. The inflatable snowman swayed stupidly in the yard.

"You did good today," Gram said. "Not because of the gifts or the right words. Because you showed up. Because you're trying. That's all any of us can ask for."

When Joe looked back at her, his eyes were suspiciously bright.

"Thank you," he managed.

Gram smiled—the kind of smile that said she'd seen more life than he could imagine, and still found things worth smiling about.

"Now go find my granddaughter. And for heaven's sake, eat some pie. Nancy made three, and she'll be offended if you don't try all of them."

—

The house went quiet around midnight.

Your parents had retreated to their room after the last round of dishes. Lauren and Ash had taken a sleepy Hayes back to their guest room on the first floor. Gram had kissed everyone goodnight and disappeared down the hall. And you—you'd been deposited in your childhood bedroom, surrounded by remnants of your teenage self, while Joe was installed in the guest room at the opposite end of the hall.

Separate beds. Your mother's rules.

You'd lasted about an hour.

Now you stood outside Joe's door, hand raised to knock, second-guessing yourself for the third time in as many minutes. This was stupid. You were twenty-five years old. You lived alone in Cincinnati. You paid taxes. You could sleep in the same room as your boyfriend without it being a crisis.

But also: your dad was three doors down. And you'd seen the way Bobby had clapped Joe on the shoulder after dinner, the look that said I like you, but I'm watching.

You knocked anyway.

Silence. Then a shuffling sound, then the door cracked open and Joe's face appeared—sleep-rumpled, confused, wearing nothing but gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips.

"Hey," you whispered.

His eyes went wide. "What are you—" He glanced down the hall, then grabbed your wrist and yanked you inside, closing the door behind you with barely a sound.

"Are you insane?" His voice was a harsh whisper, his eyes slightly wild. "Your dad is literally right there. Right there. I can hear him snoring."

"He's a heavy sleeper."

"He's right there. Three doors down. I can hear him snoring."

"He's not going to shoot you, Joe."

"You don't know that." Joe was pacing now, running his hand through his hair in a way that made it stand up at odd angles. "I spent all day—all day—trying to make a good impression. I gave him courtside tickets. I complimented his brisket. I let his grandson use me as a jungle gym for three hours. And now you're going to get me murdered because you couldn't sleep alone?"

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh. He looked genuinely panicked—more panicked than you'd ever seen him, including that time he'd taken a hit that had knocked the wind out of him on national television.

"Joe."

"I'm serious. This is—" He stopped pacing, turning to face you. "This is not funny."

"It's a little tiny funny."

"It's not."

"You're spiraling."

"I'm not spiraling, I'm being rational. Someone needs to be!" He stopped, exhaled hard, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay. Okay. You need to go back to your room. Right now. Before anyone wakes up."

"I don't want to go back to my room."

"Baby."

"I missed you." You stepped closer, closing the distance between you. "I've been lying in that bed for an hour, staring at glow-in-the-dark stars I put on my ceiling when I was fourteen, thinking about the fact that you're right down the hall and I can't touch you."

Joe's expression softened, but the tension in his shoulders didn't ease. "I missed you too. But—"

"You were nervous today." You said it quietly, watching his face. "I could tell."

He stilled. For a moment, you thought he might deny it—deflect, the way he usually did when things got too close to the surface. But then his shoulders dropped, and he exhaled like he'd been holding his breath all day.

"Yeah," he admitted. "I was."

"You're never nervous."

"I know." He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "That's the thing, right? Eighty thousand people screaming at me, and I'm fine. Playoff game with everything on the line, and I'm fine. But today—" He shook his head. "Today I was fucking terrified."

You reached for him, sliding your hands up his bare chest, feeling the warmth of his skin, the steady thump of his heart.

"Why?"

"Because it mattered." The words came out rough, unpolished. "Because you matter. And I wanted—I needed—them to see that. To know I'm not just some guy who's going to waste your time. I wanted to prove—"

"You don't have to prove anything." You echoed Gram's words without realizing it. "Joe. They already love you. You should've seen my dad's face when you gave him those tickets."

"I know. I know." He pulled you closer, resting his forehead against yours. "But I've never... I've never cared this much. About what someone's family thought of me. About making sure I got it right. It's never mattered like this before."

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression open in a way it rarely was. "You risked your career for me. You know that, right? I know what your firm is like. I know what people say about women who date clients. And you did it anyway."

Your breath caught. You hadn't realized he'd thought about it that deeply—the politics of it, the professional cost.

"I couldn't be the reason that was a mistake," he said quietly. "I couldn't meet your family and have them see some guy who wasn't worth it. I needed them to know—" His jaw tightened. "I needed them to know you didn't risk everything for nothing."

Your heart clenched. "Joe."

"I love you." He said it like a confession. "And I want this. All of it. The loud family and the Christmas chaos and the three-year-old who won't let go of my leg. I want to come back here every year and sit through your dad's sports takes and let your mom hug me too long. I want—"

You kissed him.

He made a small sound against your mouth—surprise, maybe, or relief—and then his hands were in your hair and he was kissing you back like he'd been waiting for this all day. Which, you realized, he probably had.

"I love you too," you whispered against his lips. "And you were perfect today. Absolutely perfect."

"Not perfect," he murmured. "Just trying."

He kissed you again, deeper this time, and you felt the shift in him—the tension finally starting to unravel, the carefully held composure giving way to something rawer underneath.

His hands slid down your back, finding the hem of your sleep shirt—his shirt, actually, the Ohio State one you'd stolen months ago—and slipping underneath to find bare skin.

"We can't," he said, even as his fingers traced up your spine. "Your dad—"

"Is asleep."

"Your mom—"

"Also asleep."

"The walls are thin."

"Then we'll have to be quiet."

Joe pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark, his breath uneven. "You? Quiet?"

"I can be quiet."

"Baby." His voice dropped. "You've never been quiet a day in your life."

"Then I guess you'll have to help me."

Something flickered in his expression—heat, challenge, the competitive edge that lived just beneath his surface. His hands tightened on your waist.

"This is such a bad idea," he muttered.

"The worst."

"If we get caught—"

"We won't."

"If your dad finds out—"

"He won't."

Joe stared at you for a long moment. You watched the war play out behind his eyes—the part of him that had worked so hard all day to be good, to be careful, fighting against the part that had been waiting for this, for you, for hours.

The second part won.

He kissed you hard, walking you backward until your knees hit the edge of the bed, and then you were falling, pulling him down with you, his weight pressing you into the mattress.

"Not a sound," he said against your throat. "I mean it."

"I promise."

"If you make a sound—" His hand slid up your thigh, pushing the shirt higher. "I stop. Understand?"

You nodded, breath catching.

"Words."

"Yes." It came out shaky. "I understand."

Joe's smile was slow, dangerous. "Good girl."

—

He took his time.

That was the thing about Joe—when he decided to do something, he committed to it completely. And right now, he seemed committed to taking you apart piece by piece, slowly enough to make you lose your mind.

His mouth traced a path down your neck, your collarbone, the space between your breasts. His hands followed, unhurried, mapping territory he already knew by heart but touched like he was discovering it for the first time.

You bit your lip, hard, when his teeth grazed your nipple through the thin cotton of your shirt.

"Off," he murmured, and you sat up just enough to let him pull the shirt over your head. His eyes moved over you in the dim light—appreciative, hungry, reverent.

"So pretty," he said softly. "Always so fucking pretty."

You reached for him, but he caught your wrists, pressing them gently into the pillow above your head.

"Keep them there." His voice was low, commanding. "Don't move them."

"Joe—"

"What did I say about sounds?"

You pressed your lips together, swallowing the whine that wanted to escape. Joe watched, satisfied, and then his mouth was on you again—your stomach, your hip bone, the soft inside of your thigh.

He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your underwear and pulled them down slowly, deliberately, watching your face the whole time. The cool air hit your skin and you shivered.

"Already this wet," he murmured, running one finger through your folds. "Just from that?"

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

"Been thinking about this all day?" He circled your clit, feather-light, barely there. "Sitting at dinner with your family, thinking about me touching you like this?"

You nodded again, more desperately this time.

"Dirty girl." But he said it fondly, almost affectionately. "What am I going to do with you?"

He didn't wait for an answer. Just lowered his head between your thighs and put his mouth on you.

You bit down on your own fist to muffle the sound that tried to escape. Joe's hands spread your thighs wider, holding you open for him as his tongue worked against you—slow, deliberate strokes that built pressure without relief.

Your hips bucked up, seeking more, and he pressed them back down with one strong hand.

"Stay still." The words vibrated against you. "Take what I give you."

You wanted to scream. Wanted to beg. Wanted to grab his hair and grind against his face until you came. But you stayed quiet, stayed still, hands clutched white-knuckled in the pillow above your head.

He rewarded you with more pressure, more focus, his tongue circling your clit with increased intent. Two fingers slid inside you, curling to find the spot that made your vision blur.

The pressure built, coiling tighter and tighter in your core. You could feel the edge approaching, could feel yourself starting to shake with the effort of staying quiet.

Joe pulled back, and you nearly sobbed.

"Not yet." His voice was rough, wrecked. "I want to feel you come around me."

He rose up over you, pushing his sweatpants down just enough to free himself. You watched, breathless, as he positioned himself at your entrance.

"Look at me," he said.

Your eyes found his in the darkness. He held your gaze as he pushed inside, slow and unhurried, filling you inch by inch until his hips pressed flush against yours.

The sound that escaped you was unavoidable. A small, broken gasp that seemed impossibly loud in the quiet house.

Joe's hand came up to cover your mouth.

"Shh." His breath was hot against your ear. "I've got you. Just let me—"

He started to move.

The rhythm was slow at first, careful, both of you hyperaware of the creaking bed and the thin walls and the family sleeping nearby. But Joe had always been precise, controlled, and he found an angle that made your eyes roll back without making the bedframe groan.

His hand stayed pressed against your mouth, muffling the sounds you couldn't help making. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, his back, anywhere you could reach.

"That's it," he breathed, his rhythm steady, relentless. "Just like that. You're being so good for me."

The praise made something clench inside you, pushed you closer to the edge. You whimpered against his palm.

"Close?" he asked, and you nodded frantically. "Yeah? You gonna come for me?"

His hips snapped harder, the controlled rhythm giving way to something more urgent. His free hand found your clit, rubbing tight circles that matched his thrusts.

The pressure crested. You came with a silent scream against his hand, body arching off the mattress, clenching around him so hard he swore under his breath.

"Fuck," he groaned, low and strained. "Fuck, baby, I can feel you—"

He buried his face in your neck, hips stuttering as he followed you over the edge. You felt him pulse inside you, hot and deep, his whole body shuddering with the force of it.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. Just lay there tangled together, breathing hard, hearts pounding in unison.

Finally, Joe lifted his head. His eyes were soft, sated, the tension that had lived in them all day finally, completely gone.

For a long moment, he just looked at you—hair wrecked, chest still heaving, something unguarded in his expression.

"Come here," you whispered, even though he was already as close as he could get.

Joe relaxed into you, his weight warm and familiar. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your shoulder.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

"For what?"

"For bringing me here. For sharing them with me." He pressed a kiss to your forehead. "For... all of it."

You tilted your head up to look at him. In the faint light from the window, he looked younger, softer—the version of himself he only let you see.

"They're your family too now," you said. "That's how this works."

Something flickered across his face—emotion, raw and unguarded. He kissed you, slow and sweet.

"Yeah," he murmured against your lips. "I'm starting to get that."

—

You made it back to your room without incident.

The hallway was silent, the house dark and still. Joe had insisted on watching from his door until you were safely inside yours—ever the protector, even in something as mundane as a midnight hallway crossing.

You fell asleep smiling, still wearing his shirt, the scent of him wrapped around you like a blanket.

In the morning, you woke to the smell of bacon and the sound of your mother singing off-key Christmas carols in the kitchen. When you came downstairs, Joe was already there—freshly showered, helping your dad flip pancakes while Hayes directed the operation from his perch on Ash's hip.

He looked up when you walked in, and his smile—soft, private, just for you —made you want to drag him back upstairs.

"Morning, Sissy," your mom said, handing you a cup of coffee. "Sleep okay?"

You caught Joe's eye across the kitchen. The slightest pink crept up the back of his neck.

"Yeah," you said, hiding your smile behind the mug. "Best night's sleep I've had in a while."

Gram looked up from her chair by the window, meeting your eyes with a knowing glint.

She didn't say anything. Just smiled, and went back to watching the snowman sway in the yard.

[badwolfwho1]

you are a tv writer in 1998, a spinoff to the hit show Buffy the Vampire Slayer following the second Slayer Kendra “I have no last name sir” Young has just been green lit. You have to pitch three episodes for it, what are they about?

So 1998 we are concurrent with s3, I'm gonna say we live in the world that's going to be most adjacent to reality so Kendra the Vampire Slayer died briefly but is now alive, human and offscreen Buffy s3 is happening pretty much as is. I will however insist as I pitched before we do poach Cordelia from Buffy to be in this spin off, I think they can be fun together.

We're gonna have this all under the cut cause my first pitch alone is way too long.

Okay so for my first pitch I want tentatively named either "New Year, Old Slayer" or "Old Acquintances to be forgot," either way a vaguely around about New Years episode just because I don't think we ever got one of those. A Watcher (our working name here shall be Patrick) that came up at the same time as Sam Zabuto comes into town joined by his junior Watcher associate (our working name here will be Bobbi) who'll we'll later learn was a Potential he'd been looking after who had not ended up being called (this is absolutely taking from the headcanon by @coraniaid that potentials who are trained but not called as Slayers become Watchers), only a few years older than Kendra, we'd want to use at least part of this episode as an exercise to ask the question what if Kendra had never been called as Slayer how might she have ended up?

Patrick here is between assignments from the Watcher's Council and says he came to visit Zabuto to both catch up with an old friend and to let Bobbi here see what it's like be a Watcher to the Slayer if it'd ever happen to her. We have some scenes of Sam and Patrick reminiscing, in contrast to Giles maybe Zabuto really was just as straightlaced back then as he is now, or maybe he did have a bit of a wilder side back then though we definitely shouldn't retread Ripper. Also some comparing of their charges I'd definitely want Patrick to have a combination of intense pride towards Bobbi, he thinks she's brilliant, would've been the perfect Slayer, tinged with bitterness over how long he spent making sure she'd be the perfect Slayer and she was never called. Kendra and Bobbi really get on in a quiet way here you really get the idea that they'd had a similar upbringing, if we have access to Cordelia she does not get it at all she thinks they must hate each other with how little they're talking and is always filling the empty air. She'd also wants to drag Kendra to a New Year's Party she got invited to but Kendra's much more interested in her duty of hunting this demon.

Bobbi tags along with Kendra on the demon hunt she's doing the specifics don't really matter, trying to eat people who are partying for the New Year which Kendra isn't celebrating. Here we'll learn that Bobbi is a bit of a fiend for demons, real expert in Demonology, a real asset in tracking it and takes all kinds of samples from it after Kendra deals with it for classification. Kendra's really impressed and gushes a bit to Zabuto over it, have a little bit of Zabuto wondering if time's passed him by and Kendra would do better with a newer younger Watcher. We'll also have a bit where Bobbi opens up a bit to Kendra seeing herself in her and reveals being a bit resentful about the whole lack of a childhood she had and all for nothing.

This is around about when we will learn shockingly that these two are in town for nefarious purposes. Patrick is not so much between assignments as he's on leave following an incident where he let the next Potential he was in charge of die until the Council figures out what to do with him. He and Bobbi were in the middle of some experiment to awaken whatever would make her the Slayer by force, have some fun with he's only got the idea that you could do this because there was more than one Slayer in the world so it's vaguely (not really but she can feel a bit of blame for it) Kendra's fault. Cause why just settle for one? Why not get as many Slayers for the war against evil as they need, he just needs to refine the serum/potion a bit, and if a few potentials die in the process well they've got more, the big picture is what matters. And if he can test it on an actual Slayer, that might just be the breakthrough they need. Sam gets the traditional Watcher knocked out when he strongly disagrees with this course of action.

Patrick and Bobbi try to test the new serum updated with some blood and such from the demon Kendra just dealt with, she realises something's wrong with the way they're acting and how Zabuto's not here for this (and if we have access to Cordelia her scream finding his unconscious body probably seals the deal). In the face of their work being in danger Bobbi ends up taking the potion herself, either forced into it by Patrick or of her own volition. It works at first, she fights Kendra on pretty even footing even getting the better of her. Then it gets worse and she pretty visibly gets more and more demonic, ends up tearing Patrick in half (the question should be raised here of was it the demon in her that did that or if it was the resentment she'd built up as a human for being raised for this destiny she never got). Kendra obviously does end up winning but I'd like Bobbi's fate to be somewhat ambiguous, leave open the door for her to show up again.

The lingering questions of is Zabuto the right Watcher for Kendra and was it right the way she was raised are sort of quietly paved under a mutual unspoken agreement to not disturb the balance they're in, but it's the sort of thing that'll come to the forefront in another episode (say Kendra's Cruciamentum)

Here's a quick sketch of Bobbi, Patrick and her being demoned up a bit. She' should end up more demoned as the fight progresses.

Next up will be my working title of "Dressed to Kill". I think we should put Kendra in situations she was not trained for, did not think she would ever be in and is entirely unequipped to deal with. There is a demon loose at a fancy party. Kendra must infiltrate said party, not let on who she is or what she's there for, find the demon and slay it before there can be any casualties.

I think the logistics here is Kendra's been hunting a series of demons the specifics don't matter but I like to think crab demons. There's been a bunch of them over the past week and by tracking where they've been popping up Kendra and Zabuto get the idea that they're probably coming out of a specific building.

They start with the direct approach but the doorman is good at his job and is not letting anyone in who isn't on the list. And yeah Kendra could punch the guard out. She's done it before knocking people out on the way to her objective. She could punch the next guard out as well. But there's enough of a crowd here and Kendra is devoted enough to not letting everyone know that she's a Vampire Slayer that she'll back down, slink off and try to find another way in. And alas, the easiest way in is the big party taking place in said building tomorrow night.

If we have access to Cordelia they will be an incredible double act, her dragging Kendra dress shopping (as you say she'll suggest heels, Kendra is very against having her neck broken tripping in a fight and puts her foot down there), briefly being on her arm explaining how to act at a place like this (her explanations are not good, think of I think in I think it was Reptile Boy insisting to Buffy to just laugh loudly at whatever they say), before getting distracted to go networking and Kendra has to go it alone (she'll return later with her latent private investigator skills and some facts she accidentally gathered that'll help put the pieces of the puzzle together).

Meanwhile Kendra's almost adopted by another guest who see's how out of place she feels and reassures her that she was just out of place her first time. We'll get some trademark terrible lies appropriate of the Slayer lineage about what she's doing here oh yes her father made his money in ... bowling. He bowled very well. Couldn't be here this year. Broke his leg. A horse stepped on it. Very sad. Except better than that.

We'll have some red herrings about what's actually going on, there's a vampire at the party but he was actually just legitimately invited, terrible guy ends up being slain but nothing to do with the demons, there's some spooky masks that they think is to do with a ritual but its actually just left overs from a masked ball the other week. And the big twist the demons aren't the monsters, they're the victims. They're being summoned by the guests to be eaten as a delicacy, specifically even the woman who's been guiding Kendra around she's a demon summoner and that's how she got her invite, she doesn't see the problem, they're just demons after all, not like they're people or anything. Here we can take not just Kendra the person out of her element, we take Kendra the Slayer out of her element. Her job is to stand against the vampires, the demons. Here are demons, that haven't actually done anything wrong and she has to decide what to do with that.

She decides to do the right thing, puts her foot down you can't be summoning demons just to eat them. That's just unsafe on top of immoral. The demon summoner quickly realises oh this girl is built different, desperately works whatever magic she does have, summons a bigger demon to fight Kendra, the moral quandary of huh what do we do about human villains is dodged as she's eaten by the demon she summoned that Kendra now has to fight. The party is ruined, the guests scatter. In the aftermath Zabuto confidently states with very little grounding that well they probably won't try to pull something like that again, he is however clearly disapproving of Kendra deciding not to slay all the demons. Cordelia gets a date out of it and we'll presume it went badly because we'll hear of that person again.

And we get a good old cavalcade of crab demons climbing out of their bucket in the chaos, escaping into the sewers never to be seen again. Maybe we'll see them again, some kinda follow up of Kendra's big decision. Definitely have some sort of impact on the ecosystem down there. Maybe they're fond of her and will save her from some big beastie she hunts down there one day in the future.

Here's Kendra and Cordelia dressed up, the demon summoner, and the demon. I'll admit we may not have the budget for this weird crab demon (there's no scale but picture this thing going up somwhere between the knee and waist). I'll settle for a guy in a mask wearing some claws.

Rounding things out now with what I will tentatively call "Forgotten Girl" we open this episode in the classical style, Kendra fighting three vampires, very technically proficient, meticulously takes them down one by one, doesn't really take any hits. Zabuto praises her says "I don't think there's a vampire in this world that could be a match for you," but does frown at Kendra unconsciously grabbing at the scar on her neck before we smash cut to Drusilla arriving in town. Roll opening credits, this is the first Drusilla episode.

I like to think this'll be an early episode if not the first to deal with fallout from Becoming. Dru's here Spikeless, she had a bad break up with him following the whole him helping to stop the world from ending deal, maybe he can have a crossover episode post Lovers Walk where as promised he tries to woo back Drusilla who has been sticking around in the area but I'm not pitching that episode. Anyway Dru's been following her visions, there's this weird blank spot where she can't see anything and its here wherever we're setting this spinoff. We'll have an establishing scene of Dru cowing the local vampires into submission, they'll protest she doesn't know what she's walking into, there's a Slayer who lives here, Dru says she killed a Slayer "I watched the life drip drip drip out of her."

She of course runs into Kendra while leading her new pack to go feeding and freezes seeing her, certain that she should be dead, that she saw her die, her visions saw her die. Kendra equally frozen, dropping her stake clutching again at her scar, remembering the time she 'died'. Most of the vampires Dru's gotten onside flee at the sight of Kendra but one particularly daring one does tackle Kendra to the ground, rains blows down on her, snaps her out of her freeze but she's still not fully in the game, it ends up being Dru herself unexpectedly pulling the vampire off of Kendra.

Because Kendra is the blank spot in Dru's visions that she's been following. As far as destiny is concerned she died back in Sunnydale, on top of the Hellmouth and everything she's done since then is slowly tearing whatever was set in stone out brick by brick. Dru's fascinated by this, there's still a bit of the girl she was in her, before she was a vampire, that hated her visions, was terrified of them. And if Kendra keeps existing maybe she'll ripple out all of destiny will crumble, all of her visions will be blank, she can be something other than just vision girl. And this is pillar one of Dru's obsession with Kendra.

Pillar two, will be to explore that lingering trauma of the way she was sired. Dru'll get this twisted obsession with getting Kendra to choose to be sired by her, to be better in some way than Angelus was to her. And naturally the way she goes about it is almost indistinguishable from how Angelus did. She goes after Kendra's (limited) support system, Zabuto, Cordelia (Cordelia herself protests she left Sunnydale to get away from this kind of damsel in distress stuff). And really play up the fact as she sees it that in the grand scheme of things Kendra is just an interchangeable link in the chain of Slayers, she'll die, nothing will change, any ripples she makes will fade. But if she's a vampire she'll live forever, she can be forever.

We'll end the episode with Kendra taking a step towards resolving that intrinsic fear she's gained of Drusilla. In contrast to the calm meticulous way we saw her fight in the opening scene, her fight with Dru is desperate, panicked, she can't even look at Dru in the eyes. The finish is once again Dru pulling her "Look at me, Dearie," trick, and it looks like its working, then Kendra sees past Drusilla, over her shoulder at her Watcher chained up, and with that connection snaps out of it, looks Drusilla in the eyes once again and punches her, throws her out the window. The other vampires scatter, Kendra hyperventilating collapses to her knees, one step closer to overcoming her death. Dru landed in some body of water outside and climbs out like a drowned rat, we'll see her again but she'll need time to lick her wounds.

As long as either of them exists they'll always be on each other's mind now. Neither of them can be a Forgotten Girl.

Here's Kendra and Drusilla first laying eyes on each other with the Zawa Zawa unease and GOGOGOGO menace sound effects. And the whole "Oh so you're approaching me," meme because I can't help myself.

But now I'm opening up the writer's room, you've gotta pitch some episodes as well. This is open to everyone reading this as well.

[catchingdaydreams]

Bull Hybrid! Shigaraki X reader

Bulldozer

Chapter: 1 Bulldozer

5600+ words

(art by me)

Chapter 2: Bullwhipping

You weren't expecting to inherit a large sum of money in your 20s. Heck you thought you were never even going to own a house in the entirety of your life. Whatever God up there decided to respond to your prayers after all this time did it in one go as to say sorry for the atrocious luck you've been dealt with.

You somehow acquired all of your late uncles assets. Why? Well your family are god damn awful and you guess he gave a big ass 'fuck you' from beyond the grave to them as he decided to give everything to someone who he'd last seen was when you were a child. Maybe he's taking pity on you from beyond his grave as well. Honestly you don't care, you're filthy rich (compared to what you were before). And as soon as you could you high tailed out of your abusive family situation. You knew when all of the sudden they started acting sweet to you for the first time in years, with no judgemental glares nor threats and acts of violence, it was for all the wrong reasons.

It was a fresh start. Your uncle owned a large plot of land that used to be his farm house before retiring and moving to a retirement village, eventually croaking there. It was pretty much remote which was good for you as you wanted to be as far away from your family as possible. Hell you think your family might not know where your uncle's old farm even is. You certainly didn't get an intervention last minute before leaving or a surprise visit from one of your relatives upon arrival.

The downside to all this was that you weren't expecting the state of the farm to be a fixer upper. It was practically abandoned and it clearly showed too. Despite what the real estate agent said they had someone come in now and again for general maintenance, and had some local folks use the land for grazing purposes; most of the fences were knocked down. And the vegetation in some places were at hip height. The house itself was clearly caked in dust and smelled sooo dam awful that the mixture of cigarettes and musk that you slept in your car the first night while you let the house aired out.

Your second, third day and forth day wasn't any better than the first. Country towns are prolific in being tight nit and not too welcoming to strangers. Apparently word got around about the new owner of the plot of land you now own. Strangely enough, one of the local shop keepers, Taneo Tokuda instantly knew who you were. You reckon it was him that spread your name around cause now everyone says it before you give introductions first. He keeps pestering you with questions too. Mostly about your uncle and what plans you have with the farm. He might sound like a nice and concerned old man, but you have a feeling his hobby and passion is just gossip. Nothing too bad, It just reminds you a bit too close to home with the lack of privacy you had. So you're trying to stand clear of him and shop further out of town in the meantime.

You pretty much stayed clear of the other infrastructure within your property and focused on fixing up the house as your primary objective. Your fourth day here mostly consisted of cleaning the hell out of it, dumping out unsellable furniture and getting rid of cigarette gunk from the walls. The whole ordeal made you instantly pass out once you placed your head on your pillow.Yet the blissful rest of sleep did not come.

Witching hour was in full swing when you woke up to a loud thump. In your groggy state you look at your window and see rain hitting the glass. The old house must just be moaning and groaning from what you thought, and rolled over to succumb to sleep once more. But it wasn't until another minute had passed that the sound occurred once more, this time louder. You groan as you sit up, clearly annoyed by your lack of sleep. You glance at your window once more, its view is of an old barn. In association, it was in the same direction the sound was coming from. It wasn't a continually occuring sound either, there were gaps in the bangs, some softer and some repetitive and loud. It certainly wasn't something one could try to ignore and go to sleep with. Furthermore it was not favourable to move to the musky old couch for the night in fear of getting some kind of rash in the morning from it.

Being alone in the middle of bumfuck nowhere with no one you know left you on edge and made your mind wonder. There was no mention of animals being present here. Yet the storm outside might have favored your barn as a temporary shelter to whatever animal is nearby. You try to reason yourself, it must be some animal, the wind just knocked something loose and is kicking around in the rain and all that. But just nagging in the back of your mind, doubts swept in.

'What if it's someone? Someone who is breaking in? What if your family found out and knows where you live-'

You instantly kicked off your sheets. In a rush you chuck a rain coat on and walk out onto the varanda. But just as you were about to step into the rain you stopped. Cursing to yourself you head back inside. "It was only to bring your mind at ease", you told yourself. 'You weren't going to actually use it', in wobbly reassurance as you walk back outside once more, and old shotgun in hand.

It wasn't a heavy downpour but the wind and pitch blackness of the country side made it bothersome to trench towards the noise, getting louder and louder as you reach the barn.

The old barn door opened with a loud eerie creak that echoed along its wooden walls, causing the noise that was inside to instantly stop. Whatever thing is residing within certainly knows your presence now. With a deep, shaky breath you took a step inside, gripping the old shot gun tighter. On edge, your eyes flicker amongst the shadows, but darkness mostly fills your vision. Your only senses available to you right now was occupied by the crunch of dry hay meeting your wet boots and the rain hitting on the barns glass windows. You try to get your bearings together by feeling out some form of light switch on the wall beside the door. You thumbled for a bit until you found a surface switch. Turning it on, lights flickered in haze, buzzing until it fully illuminated the rooms. Gaining your sight once more would have eased your mind, but at the same time you turned it on a loud bang could be heard from the back stalls, making you jolt. The sounds continue to emulate, loud scrapings in between. You thumbled with your shot gun aiming where the sound is coming from. Slowly and cautiously you step closer towards the noise. Whatever this thing was it sounded desperate to escape. You hope your theory of an animal seeking shelter is true and you've just startled it. 'It's okay you can just nudge it out to the barns exit', you thought.

When you just enter the back stalls you take a glimpse of the moment, just slightly being obscured by the stables railing but you saw it. A wisps of something hairy...and a hand. A human hand. Fear trickled down your spine as the worst case scenario came true.There was some stranger doing god knows what in this barn.

They haven't seen you just yet.

You cock your gun in their direction as you move closer. When you finally got a full view of the intruder you both froze.

It wasn't human.

It was a- "A...Hybrid?" You say it out loud, accidentally.

You've never seen a hybrid, not in person really. Your knowledge has been through glaces of advertisement for hybrids to social media influences showing off their hybrids like a viral trend. Even then those hybrids were commonly associated with the norm of actual pets such as a dog, cat or even bunnies. The one trembling before you was clearly not some humanised, cute fluffy companion.

It was a bull. And one in bad condition as a matter of fact.

From what you could see, his dark fur and hair was overgrown and ratty. Much of it was obscuring his face, twisted and caked in blood and filth. Two small-ish horns protruded out of his head. His body was mostly exposed to the natural elements, mostly human looking despite flicks of fur licking his arms and legs, forming his feet into hoves. The only thing protecting him from the natural elements other than his fur was heavily worn three-quarter pants that were thread bare.

The more you stare at the hybrid the more you notice just how fearful he is. His body is completely ridged as he locks his stance in a semi crouch. The only movement was him breathing. He is on the skinner side too, ribs could be seen.

Then there were the chains. So many chains. His wrist and neck was cuffed and collard, latched onto the wall. It digged and irritated his skin as red welts became heavily inflamed. There were further deep cuts where is nails were clawed against his dry skin, leaving scabbing and dry blood underneath his nails. Whether it was from trying to escape or out of frustration you don't know.

This was what the main noise was coming from. The poor thing was trying to break free. You don't know just how long he had been here but you do know with the condition he's in someone left him to die here.

It took a good sec to remember you're still pointing a gun at him. Definitely making the reason why he's still frozen in place.

"Shit shit shit!!" You frantically set down the gun.

"Sorry!!!" You said apologetically as you raise your hands up to show you mean no harm.

"I ain't going to hurt you!"

The hybrid is still frozen in front of you. You try to further convince him by kicking the gun out of view.

"See no harm!"

While you couldn't see his eyes he directed his motion from his head looking from you to the gun and back to you. His shoulders sag but his frame still looks mostly ridged. You hopefully got the message that you are no threat to him.

"I had no idea you were here" you explain.

"I'm sorry." Sorry that you didn't notice him sooner. If you were more curious about the farms infrastructure then maybe you could have helped sooner. His wounds would have been less aggravated. Sorry that he's like this in general.

"Ca-can you speak?" You ask but he doesn't respond. You look at his chains around his neck that were digging into his skin the most. You point at it in a general breaking motion as you spoke.

"I reckon that must be painful. I can see if I can take it off, alright".

He still doesn't say anything. You reckon he might be mute with how he's not responding to you vocally. But his body is so expressive that you get the gist of it. Other than his guarded frame, his cow ears flick back like a cat's irritation.

"Please, I'm not here to hurt you."

A good minute passed as the two of you stared at each other. Finally he responds with a slight and lazy nod.

"Cool." You say softly.You definitely wouldent be able to remove these chains by hand, you needed a tool for this job. Telling him you would be back soon you dash out of the barn making way to one of the sheds on the property. You were practically working under piss poor lighting, nocking god knows what around. You do eventually find the most rusted bolt cutters with the way your feeling rust scrapes your fingers.

Eventually you make your way back. You enter the stall drenched by the rain but you don't care. You're just happy that you found something that can help him out of this awful situation.

"I'm gonna have to touch you if that's alright" you say as you lean in front of him. You reach his chain around his neck but stop as he gasps, trying to back away when there's no room to go.

"Hey, it's okay, it's okay". You wait for him to steady his breathing. He gives you the okey when he leans forwards.

It wasn't easy to cut. It took awhile to just a snap the first chain, breaking free the one that held him tied to the barns walls. The next was the one around his neck that acted like a collar. But each snip the more relaxed the hybrid became.

Next was his arms, also very similar. Chains as makeshift cuffs and further pinned to the wall.

"Alright just one more to go". You say softly. Amongst cutting the chains you try to distract him by talking to him. He genuinely looks actually relaxed now. What you didn't know is that while you have been focused with cutting him free he's been looking at your face the entire time.

"Then afterwards I'll need to step out again I-I won't be long just to get something to clean your wounds. I bet you're hungry too. I'll bring back something that you can eat-"

You were at the second last chain around his wrists when what you notice makes you stop completely. While his hands were in first there was something clearly wrong.

He's missing fingers on both hands.

And he notices that you see them.

Out of nowhere sharp pain hits the side of you. You fall back at a distance, gasping in confusion. You roll on your other side hugging your hip as you look back at him. One of his legs is raised in the air.

He just kicked you.

Long gone was the scared little guy. No, you were meeting fury. You stilled at what you were seeing. His face now in clear view as his eyes shone in crimson red. His teeth bared in a low growl as his frown enhanced the scared marking around his face.

"Fuck" Is all you could say.

"G-geet o-OUT!!!" A raspy cry emulated from him. Too raw for one to normally speak. If it was painful to hear you can't imagine how bad it feels for him.

You don't move as you were still in shock.

"OUT!!" He roars as he goes in a sprinting stance like he was OF FUCK He's GONNA CHARGE AT YOU!!

You mad dash out of the stall, running from the barn back to your house. In the mist of it you hear chains rattle then cling, followed by a general thud. One of his arms is still chained to the wall so isn't able to escape. But your brain was filled with adrenaline to not get gouged by him that it didn't matter.

Slamming the door shut you collapsed on the carpet in pure adrenaline, shaking while trying to collect your thoughts.

'He was perfectly fine before. Why did he have to be aggressive all of the sudden'. You sigh, debating on whether to just call the police and make it some other person's problem.

But that was quickly shut down.

No, when you looked at him you couldn't stop seeing you in him. Cowering and meek. He would just lash out further with being surrounded by strangers. You don't know if the place they take him would be better than the place he came from.

You can't leave him in that state that he is any much longer either.

"Tomorrow. I go back tomorrow".

Tomorrow will be better.

............

Morning came sooner than you would have liked.You wished you could sleep in but the bruise already forming felt like a bitch. You groan as you get up, lifting your shirt to inspect it. Your brain was slow to catch up but at the sheer sight of it caused further throbbing. You hissed in pain as you walk to your bathroom, retrieving what little pain medicine you brought before your travel here. You really could be bothered to deal with how you looked at the moment, not when you had a mission at hand. You chucked whatever clothes you had nearby, grabbing a backpack of what you needed before heading off to the barn.

"Hello?" You call out as you push the barn doors open. You could hear the clang of the remaining chains on his hand. Not sporadic or hasty as last night, but dragged along the floor as if he was moving positions. Maybe he had just woken up, you thought.

"Hey, hey it's just me". You say as you enter his stable entrance. Just standing outside. Under the bright lighting you really get to see him. Your description of him last night was only tame to what you see right now. He really was in a bad state. What you thought was dark hair was what you actually believed to be soot and filth coating it. This time he was sitting in with his legs to his chest, hands hiding on his lap. It made him look even smaller than he was yesterday.

You winced as his crimson eyes bore into you with such malice. His gaze makes your bruise flare up. Uneaseness quenched your stomach from how you were going to deal with this. You didn't want to piss him off again and get your ass kicked. Definitely stay clear of his legs.

You try to smile at him through your inner turmoil but it was definitely wobbly.

"See I brought a peace offering" you say as you take the backpack off your shoulder and display various items that were just out of reach from him. Most of it was fruits, a couple of water bottles for drinking and to clean his wounds, and the bolt cutters.

As you unpack you try to reassure him.

"Sorry if I frightened you yesterday... I just want to help you."

"...."

"But I still want to help you out of your chains. And I can't really do that if you try kicking me again, yeah? So how about don't do that. I can-"

"Your new."

It was direct. Dry and coarse. He over spoke you like he couldn't be bothered into listening to what you had to say. It made you a bit irritated as all you were doing was trying to be nice to him.

You didn't finish talking.You stopped what you were unpacking just to look at him. He must have not liked the look you pulled as he "tisked" back, clearly over with this interaction already.

"Hurry up and send me back". He snaps, huffing a breath through his nose as he leans further back on the wooden barn wall.

You were so confused.

"Back? Back where?" You said, trying to get him to talk more so you could understand what on earth is going on here. But his only response is a sharp grin, like he figured you out and is calling your bluff.

You sigh. Whether or not he's going to listen to you, you do try to reassure him further.

"Listen dude, I don't know what's going on. You said I'm 'new' yeah I am new. I literally just came to live on this property like four days ago and only knew you were here last night cause you were banging the hell out of this barn! Which, fuck I don't know what the hell is going on nor why the fuck you are bloody like... that. But I just want to help you out.

AND!

Don't kick me again I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL SHOVE THESE APPLES DOWN YOUR SMUG ASS FACE!! You shout pointing a finger in his general direction while you pick up an apple in another.

He just stared at your little outburst. His smile faced with unsurety. Yet he keeps his guard up.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself.

"Do you even want to go back to where you came from?"

"..."

He stares a little longer before giving a slow shake. He looks away at you now.

Well, at least it seems he's calming down a bit.

"Alright. One step at a time then. First, you must be hungry." You throw him the apple in his way. You could still see he was still on edge and you didn't want to get into his personal space just yet. You need him to fully calm down. You just hope a full belly will do the trick.

He reluctantly took the apple off the floor and gave it a quick sniff before moving it around to inspect it. Its not poisonous' you thought. Be was being overly cautious from a simple apple.

Once he deemed it was okay. The hybrid suddenly took rapid bites, sinking his teeth in so savagely he acted like a feral dog. But he ate too fast and eventually started coughing in-between bites.

"Oi chew it slowly!"

"Fuck off!" He shouts with a mouthful of food. Finishing the apple to the core and discarding it. He eyed on the remaining that were beside you.

You signed as you rolled over the rest. He eagerly snatched it and started devouring them. If you were in a better mood you would have taught him some manners. A little 'please' and 'thank you' would be nice.

Besides the atrocious way he's eating you do notice a thing or two with the way he eats. He seems to prefer sweeter fruits like bananas. His tail swats along the dry hay while he hums in between some bites. In a way it's almost cute.

You offer him a bottle of water and he instantly chugs it down, water dripping from his mouth with some edging up on his pants. It's not just cause he's thirsty that he's messy. His hands are shaking as he holds really anything. You're thankful that he's too distracted to feel your gaze. His missing fingers are causing problems. You don't know why he freaked out when you first saw them. You do recall he has been hiding them from you until now. Probably cause he's too focused on filling that hunger.

As he finally stopped to take rest you make your way to grab a cloth, dabbing it with disinfectant. You finally moved inside the stable and crouched slowly. He didn't react at first so you thought it was a good sign. That was until he slowly lifted one of his hoves in a motion that definitely looked like he was gonna kick you.

"DUDE!!! Are you serious?? I thought we came to an understanding!!" Complaining you threw the rag, whacking his face. An audible gruff came from his throat in surprise as he picked the cloth off. You covered your body with your hands out of instinct even though you weren't close enough to receive being kicked. It's not like he carried out his action too.

"I'm tired. Leave me alone" That is all he says to you as he reposition himself on the floor, curling up as he tries to fall asleep.

The audacity of this bitch!

You're about to pull your hair out with how frustrating he's being with you. You get up and kick the remaining supplies into the stable. Not bothering if it hits him or not.

"Fine go to sleep. But you at least better clean yourself with this shit!" You say with weak authority.

"..."

"Listen, I really don't have anything to treat you with properly...but I'll be back later today, okay. Bye then." Not caring if he's listening to you anymore to turn your back to him and walk off. You hope the trip out will calm your nerves.

While storming out of the barn you didn't see the hybrid bull give you the middle finger.

.........

"Well hay now, back so soon?" Taneo Tokuda greets you as you enter his general store.

"Hopefully the rains didn't damage anything. But by the looks of it it looks like you didn't get much sleep last night".He says pointing to the bags that were underneath your eyes. You didn't even notice that they were even there. Great another thing to deal with.

"No no, I just need supplies...bandages, disinfectant and such..." You say glancing at the aisles.

Taneo briefly pauses, his cheery disposition drops to a concerned tone that sounded too much out of character.

"Did you get hurt". You had to visibility shift around to look at him as you had to double take from his sudden change.

You really don't know if you should tell him or not. Not about the bruise but about the hybrid. You weren't fond of unfavorable and nonsense rumors sprouting up about you being a hybrid abuser. On the other hand you didn't know where he would stand on this matter. You knew that a lot of people were against hybrid rights. Influencers often saw them as mere accessories. Then there were the ones who thought they were demon scum, a lower life form than man, therefore something to control. And being in a small town the chances of people taking this side of things was high.

"Well...OUFF!!"

Just before you could say really anything you got your air knocked out of lungs before quickly being caught by someone besides you.

"Sorry little lass. I wasn't watching where I was going. I forgot the aisles are a bit on the smaller side here heh!"

Looking up you were flabbergasted at the sheer height and width of this man. He was taller than the aisles themselves! He was wearing a yellow jumpsuit with a branded logo. You could clearly feel muscles under a bit of fat with the way he was holding you. But what really stood out was his massive horns that protruded out of his messy blond hair

He kept on apologizing to you as you just stared at him in shear surprise. You weren't expecting to see another bull hybrid in less than 24 hrs.

"Oh you must be the new owner of that old farm by the creek!"

"Yeah" Is all you say still in a daze. You could hear Taneo snicker in the back, clearly amused by the interaction between you too. If you cared to be bothered by it you would have shot him a glare.

"Nice to meet you I'm Taishiro Toyomits but everyone calls me Fat Gum around these parts" He says cheerfully giving a firm hand shake.

"Nice to meet you..." you politely say back without really thinking, not when you're feeling like you're staring at the sun with how jolly he's being to a complete stranger. Taneo snicker now becomes a quiet laugh. That causes you to get out of your daze and give him the stink eye. But that doesn't deter his amusement, he just smiles and waves back.

Yep, you're definitely shopping at the next town from now on.

"You know, that place is pretty run down to hell. I'll be happy to come by if you need a fix and tune up" He says as he releases his hand to strike a proud position that was chest heavy and bold. It really made you feel smaller in height compared to this bull of a man.

"Oh! Well..." You didn't know what to say really...your mind was still processing how huge he was. Luckily the shop owner did something useful for once to clear your thoughts.

"Fat Gum is quite the handy man. He's got a very reputable business too." He says warmly.

"Oh! I think I got a business card somewhere...mmmm?" He pats down his clothes, turning around comedically trying to find it. You literally had to duck just to stop from getting hit by his tail.

He huffed through his nose causing him to pout with his chubby cheeks.

"Might have one in my truck, come out in front once you're done shopping!" He salutes before going up to the register to pay for his things and chat with Taneo. Well, now you know where he stands with hybrids. They seem to know each other too. Maybe asking Taneo for help won't backfire ....badly.

Once the bull hybrid left you went up to the store keeper so you could buy what you needed. A sly grin forming on his face like he was up to no good.

"Taishiro is a good man" he says as he scans the items, eyes focused on the cash register screen. This made you raise a brow. "He seems nice" you say automatically, not really bothering where this is going to go and more focusing on trying to figure out how to ask a question.

"Uhh...Mr Tane-" "He's single too~"

....

Eh?

EHHHH?

"WHoah now??" Your voice cracks, confused as to where the hell this was all coming from.

Your sudden reaction gave him a chuckle.

"Oh? My bad. I thought you were checking him out there for a moment ago. I'm usually a good judge of character too. Oh well~" He shrugs it off nonchalant and continues scanning your item.

You sigh in annoyance. You just feel awkward with this old geezer. Really he feels like some nosing family member. Like a mother pestering you to TRY to be interested in some neighbors boy cause she's just "concerned" with your lack of love life.

You just get it over with it and pop the question.

" Mr Taneo. Do you know if there's a doctor that specializes in hybrids around here."

"Oh? Did you get one already to help out with the farm. Didn't see one with you before though." He hums, clearly interested as he scratches his chin.

"No. You see I found one last night in my barn. He's in a pretty bad condition too and I don't really know what to do".

Taneo stops what he's doing and just stares at you.Long gone was the funny, laid back nature he's been displaying.

. No, this was cold, clinical. Like you were being interrogated right now.

He looks away briefly at something outside your view.

"It wasn't a bull hybrid now was it ?"

"Actually it was."

"Fuck" he curses under his breath.

He quickly pulls out a paper and pen and starts writing.

"Well now you're lucky that little old knows a few people who could help you out with your bovine problem. Best to contact her right away, she's good at dealing with these cases." Taneo says not meeting you with the same happy tone, almost forced with the way he smiles barely reaching his eyes , like he's on edge.

He points at the name Chiyo Shuzenji before underlined it.

"These cases?" You say confused about the way he's acting.

He never answers your question. He shakes his head and tells you not to worry about it.

"You should head along now Fat Gum is probably waiting for ya."

"...right...well thanks for the help". You say as you wave goodbye, note in hand.

Yeah that wasn't ominous as fuck but whatever. You hope you aren't getting pulled into some creepy ass, horror mystery story cause of this. You left your home to finally have a less stressful life. Not doing some Scooby Doo shit.

Outside of the store you see Fat Gum loading up his truck. But he wasn't alone.

There were two more hybrids sitting in the back of the truck engaged in conversation. They were wearing the same yellow jumpsuit but the top half was off with the clothes arms tied to their waist, exposing their white singlets.

They almost looked identical despite their colour pellets being red and silver. Both were covered in spiky scales that shone under the sun. The silver haired, scaled man's tail was just slightly long, hanging out of the back of the truck as he leaned against the edge.

You must have stared too long cause his focus was on you, ignoring the other man's conversation. His eyes meet yours. A sharp smile plastered his face as his tail happily banged on the outer truck's metal casing. This caused the red guy to stop his talking and turn around to see what the other is distracted at.

The silver one winked at you before laughing.

"Dude not cool. It's not manly to flirt with older ladies." The red reptile hybrid said loudly.

"Hey I take it as a compliment If older chicks are into me" The silver one equally loud, puffed his chest out and he banged his fist on the hard scales on it.

"I think she was just staring cause of what we are bro, keep dreaming Tetsutetsu" Reddie mumbled.

"Oh a guy can dream~", Tetsutetsu sighs with wonder. He waved at you but you didn't wave back causing his smile to fade.

"Dude stop" Reddie rolled his eyes, visibly uncomfortable.

You stop paying attention from then on as the start to bicker. Something about hanging out with some calamari? What does food have to do with this? You certainly couldn't be bothered listening to these teenagers anymore.

Luckily the big man eventually finished packing up, taking notice of you he gave his business card. It had scribbles on it and inspecting further wrote some discounted prices on it. Well that's nice of him you thought. Better than him giving you his personal phone number.

As you drove home you made an appointment with the local hybrid veterinary service. Luckily they declared your case as urgent and so a visit will be this afternoon. You just pray your bull doesn't 'KO' the vet with his kicks.

[mad-hunts]

i have got a little something something for @saengjonja here and its USFW, so without further ado... let's goooo (;

how barton got to this point in time with him lying sprawled out on his stomach, his chest, face, and lower body tinged a bright red color, as well as him feeling like he was going out of his mind because of jae-hyo was quite the story — though to begin, let's just say that they started their relationship through word-of-mouth. barton had heard that jae controlled certain networks through his gang that would be immensely helpful for him to move certain types of ''merchandise'' through (which was organs and modified bodies, as it were) and reached out to jae because of that, which resulted in the other saying they could try scratching each other's backs that day as he had been wanting to discuss a 'real estate' opportunity with someone else (that was really a front for something darker, of course). but in any case, their relationship started off with them testing each other's boundaries a bit as the undercurrent while they just got a taste of what it would be like to do business with each other.

and as it turned out, this first meeting would be the foundation through which they soon developed a sort of 'tit-for-tat' relationship, with barton perhaps providing jae with a modified organ for his black market business once and him clearing up a gambling debt for one of his 'associates' in return (for example). either way, it seemed as if with every favor, things were slowly becoming more personal and intense. and barton now looked forward to meeting up with jae, as it were, as there was something morbidly fascinating about the way he discussed ruining people's lives so casually. this fascination transformed into something else all at once, though, whenever he tags along with jae on a run for him to collect a debt... and instead of just intimidating his target, jae-hyo pretty much breaks them down completely, humiliating them in public before making an example out of them.

displays of power, unbeknowst to jae himself, were something that barton found incredibly attractive and because of that — the doctor found himself suddenly riddled with goosebumps on his arms and back at how easily it seemed jae had commanded the situation around him, along with how he 'took care of business' in such a brutal but perfectly calculated way. it was no wonder why, whenever the next time they met, the sense of attraction barton felt to jae-hyo got even stronger the next time they met. though it appeared as if the other had noticed this that time, according to the glint in jae's eye, as the tops of barton's cheeks became blotchy with a pink pigment in a blush whenever he was forcing a business rival to sign over his assets while mocking the man in question.

but its the noticing that led to the events of what was happening now, as jae points out how dependent barton had become on his network, essentially humiliating him now to push him to his limit. this made a spontaneous but not entirely unexpected reaction fire up within the doctor as a visible tent had formed in his trousers, and jae noticed this. what happened from there was a bit of a blur as it all seemed to happen so fast; him being asked to come with jae to someplace, then being commanded to strip like it was the most natural thing in the world, to getting on his stomach with his hands above his head for the other. it was from there that his hands were tied to the headboard, as barton guessed that maybe the other wanted him to simply take whatever he was going to give him and that's all.

well, barton thought as of now, he knew what jae had in mind for him thus far as he'd been thrusting within him using his strap so deliciously... but it wasn't enough for the doctor to cum as the other seemed to be doling out the most pleasurable kind of torture and that was avoiding his prostate intentionally. jae had been doing it for long enough for barton to have tears in his eyes, too, as he wanted so badly to cum but every single time he tried to angle his hips the right way to get stimulation to that spot that'd make him release? jae would stop him with the grip on his hips, and barton was just about ready to start drooling because of his treatment to him. he'd just buried himself in barton once more as he pulled at the restraints around his wrists for the millionth time even though it was a hopeless cause to try to do anything with his hands, a long whine leaving the blonde as a strand of saliva did trail out from his mouth involuntarily.

barton was shaking faintly, his body feeling like it was completely overstimulated but in a good way as his cock twitched in place, his head bending back as he knew better now than to try to angle his body differently. he didn't know whether all those times he had had prolonged his 'torture' but he didn't want to risk possibly testing jae-hyo again and being spanked on the ass as he might've done a few times before. honestly, barton was drifting, so he wasn't entirely sure. ❝ jae... god, every part of me is on fire. please... please stop teasing me. ❞

[horizon-verizon]

Did book!Viserys force Rhaenyra to marry Laenor or did Viserys allow Rhaenyra to choose a husband of her liking like he did it on the show?

*EDITED POST* (4/13/24)

In the book/canon lore, Viserys *forces* her to marry Laenor even though she is reported to have said she loved her uncle/his brother Daemon.

In the following, I will show how he does and why some might think he doesn't.

1.

He does not allow her to pick a husband at all, never once, in the entire account ("A Question of Succession"):

*[there was an edit here with an idea I do not agree with anymore]*

These lines seal it:

Long before any man had reason to doubt her innocence, the question of selecting a suitable consort for Rhaenyra had been of concern to King Viserys and his council. Viserys even talked of wedding Rhaenyra to the Prince of Dorne, as a way of bringing the Dornish into the realm. The best choice, king and small council finally agreed, would be Rhaenyra’s cousin Laenor Velaryon. King and council had neglected to consult the princess

Both Rhaenyra's tour & Viserys choosing Laenor happened after whatever happened b/t Rhaenyra & Daemon happened AND before the final interaction b/t her & Criston Cole. All those lines emphasize that Viserys is the final authority on who Rhaenyra will marry, not her AND he was actively considering people without her input. Even if she went around looking for a candidate, again, he was considering options himself while/before she was AND he threatened her ascension when she argued against Laenor, which directly contradicts her choice. Even if she picked a man, he'd also be the one to say "yes" or "no."

And in the book, do we ever hear of anything like the show marriage tour, where the lords--old and young--all line up, present their entire portfolio of assets-lineage-family history, & Rhaenyra rejects them? No. People were throwing themselves at her, but they weren't presenting straight-up suits for marriage.

2. Court Politics, Chilvaric Romances & Courtly Love

You may ask about this section in particular:

Great lords and dashing knights fluttered around her like moths around a flame, vying for her favor. When Rhaenyra visited the Trident in 112, the sons of Lord Bracken and Lord Blackwood fought a duel over her, and a younger son of House Frey made so bold as to ask openly for her hand (Fool Frey, he was called thereafter). In the west, Ser Jason Lannister and his twin, Ser Tyland, vied for her during a feast at Casterly Rock. The sons of Lord Tully of Riverrun, Lord Tyrell of Highgarden, Lord Oakheart of Old Oak, and Lord Tarly of Horn Hill paid court to the princess, as did the Hand’s eldest son, Ser Harwin Strong. Breakbones, as he was called, was heir to Harrenhal, and said to be the strongest man in the Seven Kingdoms.

and think that this is book!Rhaenyra going through candidates for marriage the same as show!Rhaenyra because so many men run towards her and some make their sexual interest in her obvious. All these men are trying to get the attention of the highest ranked and acclaimed prettiest girl/woman of the realm (ego) and/or impress themselves onto her memory to gain later political benefits. But, they are not formally presenting themselves as actual suitors. this isn't like the Maiden's Ball that Unwin Peake arranged for Aegon III.

The king's, princess's, and a lady's "favor" are not just proposals or suits of marriage, they are requests for attention, approval, allowance, or recognition of acts/rank/resources/etc., i.e, non-marriage ties. A way to show others they were recognized by their supreme authority as being worthy of their knightliness or warrior-dom or military skill, or those related to/associated with them. OR EVEN publicly show that you either want to or already have a political alliance with the woman's family. The former coming with its own enhancement of reputation.

Knights and lords ask ladies for their "favor" before they go into the lists to joust as a sort of "blessing" from a high-ranked lady. Doesn't mean they are married or even in love. Though it is also a way that a lord/knight might express their chivalric-courtly devotion to their lady love in the "courtly" manner/exercise (people didn't actually do these things as a practice, this was a literary collective invention).

In medieval Europe, the courts became a place where women held power and men treated them with respect, in terms of regarding as someone with power, even if it was something like that of the pure Virgin Mary. The woman in this relationship held the power as the man doted on her. For the most part, these relationships were not sexual, as people of nobility were also extremely religious and would not commit the sin of adultery (the Church's tenets had far more influence over European people's public habits than later during the Renaissance and Tudors). The Westerosi Red Keep court, like in medieval Europe around the 1100s-1300s, was a social hub of gossip and entertainment. We know that Viserys's reign was the most prosperous one aside from Jaehaerys, and Viserys had many feasts and balls and stuff. Lords traveled to KL and the Keep to be a part of the court and accrue influence, attending the royal family.

In chivalric tales with courtly love storylines, the knight and his lady love are always NOT married--in fact, in chivalric romances and romance tales, the idea is that the two lovers shouldn't be married to each other: usually, the knight is not married, and his lady love/beloved is the one married since marriage was not for love but politics and the idea was to have a knight devoted to country, king, and the high lady who at first rebuffs him and then acquiesces. The performance itself is supposed to express the participants' noble/aristocratic capability of love and intelligence. and since Andals passed down the chivalry and court culture to imbed itself into Westerosi (not North) culture, Frey's response to Rhaenyra has that layer that would enhance & inspire his feelings of admiration, but which GRRM is subverting since Frey absolutely had no chance and showing the real politics behind why he had no chance, thus the reaction to the Frey's actions and subsequent "the Fool" moniker.

That Viserys was not allowing Rhaenyra to look for or choose AND that Rhaenyra was not visiting several places for the singular purpose of finding a husband in formal arrangements is even more obvious with that Frey kid who asked for her hand so "openly" was called "Fool Frey". That is not what she went to the Riverlands to do NOR how that would go if she/Viserys were looking for a King/Prince Consort candidate.

Viserys likely sent her on this tour because he wanted to gather more good PR for her and strengthen the "Realm's Delight" reputation. Show off her beauty and expected grace, remind people to whom they pledged their loyalties. Get them familiar with her noble subjects. And it was pretty effective...since many esp in the riverlands (almost all the houses) where she visited rose up to fight for her.

3.

I mean, a woman/princess get to choose her husband? SHE sits as men FORMALLY PRESENT themselves to her like that Maiden's Ball in the last chapter of F&B?

That event, the various and most entertaining moments would have been recorded and recorded well (or better). Only Rhaena Targaryen--the Queen Dowager & Black Bride--had a similar opportunity. (A royal progress with an impromptu proposal is NOT the same thing as an organized suitor-presentation event). Similar and not the same, bc Rhaena nor Rhaenyra never had a formal lineup of men physically presenting themselves like in the show while having had no authority actually using something against her to make her choose a specific somebody(ies).

And even at the Maiden's Ball, Aegon was being pushed towards Myrielle Peake through the long, hot, insufferable hours enclosed in the hall PLUS the "mysterious" attacks or other stuff whittling down his options. At the time, Unwin Peake had a lot of power over the preteen king and had for a long time. It's only through Baela, Rhaena and Alyn Velaryon's intervention and plot with Daenaera that Aegon's saved form more of Unwin. Can we say that even though Aegon was given options of who to marry, that he had free will to choose who to marry? Once again, Viserys wanted Laenor and had him in mind for ever and refused Rhaenrya Daemon.

4.

This is what marriage and consent looks like in Westeros:

It's very clear that the reality is that the betrothed persons' consent wasn't all that important to their parents/hosts/guardians when said authority figures had a pressing desire for the marriage to exist.

5.

Just to clarify for the show:

In HotD, he still forces Rhaenyra to marry Laenor. She never wanted it, Laenor never wanted it. We understand that from episode 4, that she doesn't want Laenor, which makes Viserys tell her to marry him forcing her.

Just because he allowed her to pick at first, doesn't mean his actions later are not forcing her. If it was against her will, then he was forcing her.

Viserys at first allows Rhaenyra to choose her own husband/decide on who the King Consort would be because of that argument they had back in episode 3 about Viserys "wanting her to be happy", that she was "very angry and alone", and the already-present desire to solidify her ascension/claim. Thus him pressing for marriage after she said she didn't want to be married. In that argument, she also pointed out how he didn't go with the candidate that his council or Corlys wanted (Laena Velaryon), that he got to choose and had much more room to choose. And because he didn't choose Laena, his relations with Corlys and the Targ House's relation with house Velaryon also took a dip: personal and political problems he created.

So Viserys' intentions and motives for getting Rhaenyra married AT ALL (like most political marriages the authorities over the marrying persons have) aren't pure or totally considerate of what their kids/wards want. There is the inescapable element of Rhaenyra being a fix-it piece for the Targ-Velaryon relations Viserys caused himself OTHER THAN:

shoring up her claims through the shared Valyrian heritages the 2 houses have

Laenor being her 1st cousin once removed (close ties)

Laenor being a dragon rider

the Velaryons having their fleet

their reputation and ranks

"make up" after Rhaenys being passed over for him in the GC by "combining" families and ensuring Velaryon blood would become royal through Rhaenyra and Laenor's kids

So in both the canon and in the show, he always preferred her to marry Laenor, especially with how quickly he chose him for her after the Flea bottom incident. His need to retie w/Corlys, placate, and make up for his choosing Alicent is the same for F&B, as he also presented Laena as an option and refused her for Alicent there. In the book, he had no intention at all of letting her choose in any capacity. But even in the show, he's obviously using the fear of Rhaenyra's reputation against her choosing, as once again he doesn't even contemplate Daemon as a choice.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day Something: The

Hey friends. I've been struggling with writers block a little bit lately, the muse is flighty and I'm out of the routine of writing because I've been so busy. So I'm just filling a prompt that kindled a little fire. Sorry that it's out of order! I don't think this one is even on the list yet (sorry for that too, nonnie!)

"You've got the Banquet for the War Orphans coming up on Sunday, the meeting with the board of trustees for the Lycanthropy Research Foundation tomorrow, the Minister booked an appointment with you today at 4:00, we-"

"Matilda," Harry interrupted, "Could you put them into the Google calendar?"

"They're already on it, Sir," she said.

He rubbed his forehead, "Harry," he corrected.

"Yes, sir."

Harry blew out a sigh, “just tell me what’s coming up in the next two hours.”

She rattled off a few things; a meeting with shareholders, meet and greet for funding a new wing of the hospital, lunch with the board.

"Right," he said, "Cancel my next two hours of things."

"But, sir-"

"Harry," he all but growled. "Reschedule the lunch meeting with the board; send Amanda with a report for the shareholders, they like her anyway; and send Anthony with a personal check for 10,000 galleons to the hospital opening."

"But Sir-"

"Harry," he corrected again before shaking his head. "I'm going. I'll be back in two hours." Without waiting for a reply, he apparated straight out of his office and into a very different office within the Ministry.

(Keep reading below the cut)

"You're not supposed to do that, you know," Draco drawled, not even bothering to look up from what he was working on.

"I know," he murmured, sidling up behind him and wrapping his arms around Draco's waist.

Draco continued the work he was performing, "What if I'd had someone else in here?"

"How many other secret lovers do you have?" Harry tried to tease but it didn't come out as much like a joke as he'd intended.

The other man huffed, "I do have people who consult with me at work, for our work, on occasion."

He didn't respond, couldn't respond, because he hadn't thought about it, had only thought about needing to see him, needing to not be the savior, the boss, the Harry Potter.

"Harry," Draco sighed, casting a stasis spell on whatever he'd been working on before warding the door. He turned and Harry pressed his face into Draco's neck, inhaling him. "I know," he murmured.

"How much longer?" he whispered into Draco's skin.

He huffed a laugh, "How much more do you want to accomplish with your money?"

Harry groaned, that was just it, wasn't it? He kept investing in the things he felt were important, people joined in investing because he was the Harry Potter, and his assets only continued to grow. Which, in theory wasn't a problem, but in practice meant that he had too many board meetings to attend with people who acted like he shit gold bricks.

"Oh, love," the other man murmured.

"I just," he huffed, "I needed to be me for a little while."

"What if you were you at work?" he offered, pressing a kiss to Harry's forehead.

He laughed humorlessly, "How can I be? I can't even get my own bloody personal assistant to call me Harry."

"Fire her," he said simply.

"Right," he said, drawing back and rubbing his hands over his face, "Because that's the image that I want to be associated with my foundation, someone who fires people for trying to be respectful."

Draco shrugged unrepentantly, "Being you at work isn't easy."

He frowned, "Draco, this foundation got where it is because I learned to play my cards right; I learned to bite my tongue and bide my time and now I can help people all over the world."

The other man nodded, "You're right."

"Stop that," he grumbled.

"What? Agreeing with you?"

"Yes."

The corner of Draco's mouth turned up, "I'm just saying, being nice is all well and good, and it will get you where you want to go. Working the room, playing the game, it's very effective but there's a reason I didn't go into politics and a reason that I am an unspeakable who works alone most of the time."

"I'm not in politics," he said.

"No?" he asked.

Harry groaned, "This isn't helping."

"I'm sorry," he replied, but he didn't sound particularly sorry. "Living a double life is difficult."

"I'm not living a double life," Harry protested.

"You've got a job where you never say what you really think and feel, you go to all sorts of functions and play the role they want you to fill. Then when you want to visit your boyfriend at work you have to tear through the bloody wards around the Ministry because people can't know that I exist."

"Wait-"

"You have a house that people know about that you floo to every morning so people can see you leaving from it, even though you spend every night in my flat and my bed."

"But that's for you-"

He shook his head, "Don't pretend that this is for me."

"The press-"

"Would look really bad for you," he said.

"No!" he snapped, "The press would fucking hound you. They'd tear you to shreds."

"Gee, I wonder what that must be like," he said, "because they don't already do that," he added sarcastically.

"I-"

"And don't pretend that everything you're doing now isn't about you either," he continued.

"I don't want kids to go through what I did, is that so wrong?"

"I'm just saying Harry," he said, shaking his head, "If you don't want people to see you as a martyr, stop playing one."

He took a step back like he'd been slapped. "Wow," he said.

Draco folded his arms over his chest.

"How long have you been holding onto that one?" he asked.

The other man shook his head, "This isn't about me."

"Right," Harry said, "because you're the one that's got this all figured out. I'm the broken one."

"Your words, not mine," he replied tightly.

He nodded, "Right, then. I'll just see myself out, shall I?"

"Harry-"

"Don't," he spit. "I get it."

"Harry-"

But he didn't wait to hear how that sentence ended, didn't want to stick around to hear the apology because he wasn't ready to forgive him anyway. He popped back up in his office and checked the calendar. He'd missed most of the shareholder meeting but ought to be able to make it to the hospital wing meet and greet.

------------------

Harry normally would have apparated straight into Draco's flat. After a day like today, he was liable to apparate straight into Draco's bed.

But their argument had stayed bright and hot at the forefront of his mind, and like a bruise that you just couldn't help poking, Harry hadn't been able to stop replaying the conversation.

And no matter how he turned it around in his head, Draco was right. Or justified in feeling that way at the very least.

Instead of doing what he'd normally do, Harry stopped off at the little flower shop a few blocks from Draco's flat and told the girl working that he needed a bouquet that said 'sorry for being an arse.'

She laughed but set to work, making a bouquet with white tulips and daffodils with a few blue hyacinths to finish.

He walked the remaining blocks to Draco's flat and practiced the apology he'd been working on all day as he approached. Harry took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

It swung open a moment later and Draco startled when he saw him, "Harry," he said, glancing around at the street behind him.

"I'm sorry for being such a fucking arse," he said.

"Come inside," Draco said, tugging at his arm.

He shook his head, "I don't care who sees-"

"Come inside, you absolute menace."

Harry huffed and allowed Draco to drag him in and close the door behind him.

"I don't need you to apologize," he said, "I overstepped. We're not-"

"Marry me," Harry said, pressing the flowers into his hands before dropping to his knees and pulling out a ring box that contained his mother's engagement ring, redesigned so that the diamond twisted around the band.

"Harry, what?" he asked incredulously, setting the flowers behind him on the table and closing the ring box that he was holding out. "You're being insane."

"I'm not," he replied. "You can choose, we can tell everyone or I can tell them to piss off, but-" he broke off and shook his head. "I’m me when I’m with you. It's the only time that I'm not calculating and trying to decide what the best move is."

"That's fine," Draco said, kneeling in front of Harry and cupping his face. "This is fine."

"I," he swallowed and looked down at the box in his hand, "I want to marry you," he said. "I want the ring on my finger, the tangible reminder of who I am when I start forgetting. Draco," he said, cupping his cheek, "I love you. I'm sorry I've hurt you by keeping you a secret. I've been selfish-"

"Harry," he said, kissing him softly, stopping his flow of words. "It's okay. You-"

"I'm not done yet," he said softly. "I'm not done investing in things, trying to do good, and trying to repair the things that are broken."

"That's fine," Draco said. "I'm fine, I'm an unspeakable for Merlin's sake! My entire life is one big secret, I was being a hypocrite-"

"Marry me," he said again. "And we can tell everyone or we can tell no one. Just," he looked down at the ring box, opening it once more, "be my husband. Let me tether myself to you. Let it be a promise that no matter what, I am always thinking of you. I am always wishing that you were by my side."

"Harry," he whispered, eyes filled with tears.

"Say yes," he pleaded. "We can elope or we can have a huge ceremony that we invite the entire wizarding world to," he nudged his nose against Draco's and leaned their foreheads together. "This is the best thing in my life," he said. "And I've treated it like I was ashamed of it, like I'm ashamed of you. And I'm not, Draco."

"I know," he murmured, his hands sliding up and down Harry's neck. "I know, love."

"Marry me?" he asked again, his hands trembling as he held out the ring.

Draco sobbed and pressed a kiss to Harry's cheek, "I didn't mean to guilt you-"

"Draco," he said, pleading, "Sweetheart, please say yes."

"Yes, of course yes," he said, hiccuping around his tears, "Of course I'm yours but only if this isn't out of guilt."

"It's not," Harry promised, pulling back far enough that he could slip the ring onto Draco's finger. "I love you," he said, wrapping his arms around Draco's back and holding him.

Draco's arms wrapped around his neck and he held him back just as tightly. "I love you, too," he whispered. "You're not broken," he added.

"I am," Harry said honestly. "And that's okay," he added.

"We're all broken," Draco replied.

Harry leaned back and kissed him, "I want to be better. Please," he said, brushing his nose over Draco's, "tell me when the things I'm doing hurt you."

"This floor is certainly hurting my knees," Draco teased wetly.

He huffed a laugh and stood, pulling Draco with him. "I mean it."

"Okay," he said, combing his fingers through Harry's hair. "Move in with me?"

Harry nodded, heart flipping in his chest. "Yes."

"We could find a bigger place," he offered, looking around the tiny flat.

He shrugged and replied, "I'm happy to be anywhere, as long as I’m there with you."

--------------------

Day 170: Geotaxis | Day 171: Tacent

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

Can we get a drabble from the Vincturi hunter AU? <3

Okey-dokey!

This takes place after they get together, and alludes to previous one-shots I've written about this au.

On with the fic!

--

"I think it would be wise if the rest of the leaders met you."

Peter luckily turned his head away to do his spit take, because he knew if he dared to get any of his coffee on Aro's expensive clothing, he'd be in serious trouble.

"Aro, and I'm saying this as nicely as someone who just woke up five minutes ago will say, what the ever lovin' fuck." Peter said after he coughed, not even voicing it at a question.

Aro arched an eyebrow as he set his phone aside, reaching to grab a napkin for Peter to use to clean up the coffee that was on his face. "I think it is the best option. Your encounter with my... well, bodyguards,"

"Those creepy kids you've got hired as professional assassins?"

"Yes, Jane and Alec." Aro sighed, crossing his arms on the table, feeling tired thinking about that night, he had been so angry, he nearly slaughtered two of his best agents just because they harmed Peter.

It had been an... eye-opening experience, when Aro realized that he wasn't just interested in turning Peter, it was much more than that, and now it's evolved into a possible? romantic relationship of sorts.

He continued. "They spoke with my other associates about you, giving more proof that you exist. They want you converted as soon as possible."

"No."

"I am well aware that is your choice on this." Aro sniffed. "But they still want to meet you, as they did that girl who, well, caused us a bit of trouble recently. She's in a similar state as you, though it seems that another vampire she knows of, one with visions of the future, is not affected by her power."

Peter sipped his coffee. "So, she's weaker than me."

"Seems so, no one can use any of their gifts of you. Natural powers, yes, we've seen that, but our gifts have no effect on you in anyway, even when in full use. Even I've tried, I could read everything about you, every single thing, with the full force of my power, but it's nothing, it's like I'm human again."

There was a laugh from Peter. "Bet that really boils your venom, doesn't it?"

Aro chose to ignore that. "If you don't meet with them in Italy, dearest, they'll come here. And because this is not their territory, where we must maintain a certain image to not have the humans too suspicious of us, they are allowed to do whatever they wish and then they'll be gone, with not a trace left of them to be found."

He watched Peter pale a little at this. He set down his coffee mug and sighed, running his hands through his hair. "Aro, this is a terrible idea. The moment you're out of the room, they'll probably take matters into their own hands."

"They will." Aro hated that Peter was correct on this. "They're not pleased with me for taking so long, with the girl, Bella, there's an excuse, the vampire she loves is planning to change her after she is eighteen, but you have no excuse."

"I have a million excuses! One of 'em is that I work for you!"

"And you're my lover."

Peter's cheeks darkened. "W-well, that goes without sayin'. Do they even know?"

"They have no idea, actually. I've kept that detail out of any conversations I've had with them about you, to them, you are just an asset for our cause, and a possible vampire should things go in their favor."

"I like bein' human, thank you very much."

Aro chuckled. "There are benefits to this, darling."

"I don't wanna sparkle in the sun, not unless if I walk outta a club, covered in glitter from a long night and into the mornin' sun." Which Aro had a feeling has happened a few times.

He sighed, leaning back in his seat, looking at the hunter. "Think about it, please? I would rather they not come here."

"Because they'll make a scene? Cause trouble?" Peter asked.

"Yes, but also they could sniff things out, figure out what we do behind closed doors."

Peter frowned deeply and sighed, leaning forward. He reached out a hand, wiggling his fingers, and Aro gave him his hand. Peter brought it close and gave the back of it a kiss. "I'll think about it, vamps. Just... give me a bit, it's not exactly an easy thing to do, meeting the fucking vampire mafia."

"Understandable."

"Yeah." He kissed his hand again. "And stop worryin', it's not a good look for ya. You're supposed to be stupidly powerful and dangerous, what do you have to worry about?"

"Other powerful and dangerous vampires, darling."

"True. Look, give me time to think, and while I do that, calm your tits, okay?"

"I can do that, but please don't use crude language like that if you finally meet them."

"No promises."