#nor their SSN

[blizardstar]

All I’m saying is if we take the reason for the Discord username change as it’s given to us, it’s reasonable to assume nobody who works at Discord can remember their own phone number

[junkheaded]

y’all seen that embarrassing article by the financial advisor who got scammed out of $50k in the most common scam around

[macheriee]

𝒜pocalypse ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

⌗ everyone knew the boy’s father was lord commander of the city watch, that much was apparent. to your mother he was another insult to the throne, to you he was just the bastard, until he wasn’t.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 tags enemies to lovers, hate-fucking kinda, aunt-nephew incest, targaryen-hightower!reader, TW: dub-con (oc struggles w/ accepting she got the hots for jace) call it horny guilt lmao but the first encounter is very much dubious but she gives in, lust at first sight, domesticity, fingering, pussy-eating, jace is low-key a simp/sub, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, impact play(?), breeding kinks cause it’s HOTD, rough sex, oc is mean asf at first, happy but angsty ending, light to medium angst, pregnancy mention, kinda canon it lowkey follows ssn 2 n some of 1 but not by a lottt (ex. mentioned scenes/flashbacks), oc n jace have been aged up (20), tweaked a few things to make sense so not completely canon, slow-burn ish but then it’s just fast burn lmao, curly-headed!jace 4ever, TW: oc has a panic attack

ᯓᡣ𐭩 word count 10.7k

your lips my lips, apocalypse..

“Bastards,”

You’ve heard the strange term tumble from your mother and grandsire’s lips the day king Viserys brought forth princess Rhaenyra’s children. They each stood mockingly with their dark unruly curls and equally colored eyes, an uncanny resemblance to the city watch commander.

The truth of it was they were no true Velaryon, nor Targaryen—but a Strong. You wondered if Rhaenyra felt shame the way they came out with their plain features, mayhaps not as your mother said the princess was as stubborn as her dragon mount.

From the start Jacaerys was an aggravating little thing to look at as children when you both clung to your mother’s skirts. His eyes were filled with curiosity as were yours before Alicent found herself shielding you from his sight like she was afraid he’d sully you.

It was clear she had zero desire for her children to associate with Rhaenyra’s much to the king’s dismay (but when has father ever cared?) Your mother hardly kept you out of her sight and if it wasn’t her you were accompanied by your siblings, a handmaid, or Cole.

You never lacked in needing “friends” and grew fine without their company as you had Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena. Occasionally you saw Jacaerys and his brother running about like little savages in the halls but you’re pulled away by a Septa just short of crossing paths.

Jacaerys was the one who intrigued you the most. It might have been age but you didn’t understand why it was so bad? What had Jacaerys done for your mother to forbid you from speaking with him? He was a bastard, yes, but what did it exactly have to do with you?

Jace—Jacaerys, wasn’t a threat. You had no throne nor a title of some sorts to claim; there was nothing to your name, so why?

As children during joint lessons there were timid but not so secret glances exchanged. Mostly curiosity but it was something both Cole and your brothers disapproved of, especially Aemond who had come to Helaena’s chambers angry after a lesson in the dragon pits with Aegon and Rhaenyra’s sons.

Eventually they left for Dragonstone, never to be seen again until a day before your tenth name day when you’re called to Driftmark for Lady Laena’s funeral. Why you were called upon such a thing you don’t know, nor care really as you hadn’t known the lady much.

The entire event was a waste—your brother was maimed, the king being the king chose his eldest’s side and the family further divided. Alicent wept and mourned Aemond as Rhaenyra’s bastards would have your brother’s eye. You looked at Jacaerys in anger, resentment, and frustration.

Who was responsible, you don’t care, what angered you was the fact that they paraded their entitlement so freely and shamelessly. Rhaenyra could have outright said she wanted Aemond’s head and your father would still find a way to make excuses for her. (Maybe even give her what she wanted.)

That was the last you ever saw of him before leaving for Kings Landing to resume life without them. You found it much more enjoyable without your half-sister and her family around, in fact you’d rather it stay that way forever.

On occasion you found yourself thinking of your nephew. The memories clung to the walls leaving a bitter taste in your mouth, one in particular haunting:

You and the king stood together atop the balcony watching as Ser Cole trained with the princes—including Rhaenyra’s sons. It was clear Cole favored your brothers evident in the way he praised one side but barked orders (or completely ignored) at the other.

“They’ll make fearsome knights, don’t you think?” Your father turns to you with a gentle smile, his tone warm but distant.

“Possibly, if Aegon ever decides to leave his cups.” You fall into silence shortly after.

You never knew what to say to your father having been so distant and neglected it felt like you didn’t know him at all. You tolerated him at best and affection was out of the question leaving you with nothing, just mere acquaintances.

The king chuckles quietly and his mouth parts to speak with his Hand but Jacaerys interrupts with his angry cry as he charges forward at Aegon. Your lips part in surprise and out of the corner of your eye you see Ser Harwin circling, watching.

Aegon uses the straw dummy to avoid Jacaerys. He’s quick to corner the smaller, kicking Jacaerys down in the process.

“Don’t let him get up.” Cole barks which spurs the commander into action.

You watch in amusement as Cole is beaten to a bloody pulp by the bastard’s father. The king turns with concern, given this was no sight for a lady, “Why don’t you go and see if your mother needs something, perhaps your sister?”

You bow in courtesy, escorted away by your sworn shield but your mother’s apartments aren’t the place you’ll be going, no, you want to watch this mess play out a little longer.

“I wish to see my brothers.” You command softly, already walking towards the training grounds even if your knight was willing or not.

They’re pulling Harwin off when you step foot outside, Jacaerys and his brother huddle close while your older brother in particular looks both amused and bored of the entire ordeal already. No doubt still pissy about being grabbed and promptly scolded by the king (‘Aegon!’) .

“Sister,” Aemond greets once you’ve joined him and Aegon.

“How were your lessons?” You quietly fuss over his messy tunic whilst checking for any bruising or cuts on his face, thankfully none.

Aemond responds in kind with Aegon loudly interrupting but you ignore him and his poor manners. You can’t help the way your eyes flit over him and his brother from across the yard, your gaze scrutinizing and judgemental like your queen mother often wore when she expressed her displeasure.

The little bastard actually rises to the challenge. “Jace!” You turn in time to see him advancing quickly, expression full of anger and accusation.

“Is there something you have to say?” Jacaerys glares.

You look over your shoulder with a cool expression, “I don’t have anything to say, what makes you think that?” It’s agitating having to explain yourself to him of all people.

“Because you look like you have something to say, so say it!” It’s comical the way his cheeks and entire face glow red from anger.

You slowly turned to Jacaerys with folded hands placed politely over your front (as the Septa and your mother taught you), “I was merely talking about how Strong the two of you were out here.”

This immediately draws the attention of Ser Harwin. His face easily betrays his emotions but you simply smile at the commander, “It’s a good thing they have the city watch commander to guide them, isn’t it?”

Challenging little cunt you were, Harwin forces a tight smile, “Indeed, princess.”

He doesn’t get to stay much longer as the guards begin pushing him in the direction of the castle, away from his two Strong boys. You were going to wipe the smug face off that bastard–

Aegon shoves Jacaerys first into the dirt, sending the poor boy flying back as Lucerys panics calling out for him. Lucerys charges with a wooden stick in hand, his face twisted in anger and fear as he swings for Aegon, “Let my brother go!”

You scoff and stick your foot out, tripping the boy as you swiftly place a foot over his back pressing down, “Dohaerās!”

You put more pressure with each passing second he squirmed and cried. “Get off of him!” Jacaerys shoves Aegon off and runs at you, pushing past Aemond knocking him down too in the process.

You turn in time to see a head full of dark curls charging, your father yelling for everyone to put an end to this nonsense. “Or what? You’re going to run to mommy and tell her what I said?”

He stops dead in his tracks when you stalk towards him with a predatory look in your eye, “What’s wrong? Not strong now are you?” You shove him harder, causing him to stumble over the wooden sword, “Better yet, why don’t you call for your father to come save you?”

Harwin stills by the doors and the entire yard grows silent. Jacaerys clenches his fists tightly, “Ser Laenor isn’t here.” He grits.

You lean closer, eyes meeting Ser Harwin’s over Jacaerys’ shoulder, “Is he?”

The ‘Velaryon’ stiffens and you can’t hide your grin, “I was merely joking, relax.” You finish softly pulling away.

Aemond is there holding his elbow out for you to take, the two of you (Aegon included) disappear into the castle passing by the commander. Aemond himself shoots Harwin a look before uttering loud and clear:

“Bastards.” No one corrects him.

You remember the outrage you and your brothers caused with Rhaenyra. She demanded justice—especially towards you after learning you pushed her Luke to the ground and commanded him like an animal. She pushed for a harsh punishment, hell-bent on it.

Alicent, who usually was spoken over by her husband and every other man in her life, for once refused. Your mother made sure of it that no one, not even the king, was to touch or harm you, fiercely defending you against your half-sister.

‘Over words? You wish to have my daughter flogged over an insult?’

Needless to say your mother had the last say after some unsavory words and threats were exchanged in the council room. As Rhaenyra passed you met her eyes briefly before Alicent covered you with her own body.

They left like dogs with their tails tucked between their legs. You, Aegon, and Aemond stood over a balcony watching the ships sail and dragons pass overhead. It was as if they were never there to begin with.

It wasn’t always unpleasant you suppose but with age you slowly begin caring and thinking less and less about those Strong boys.

༺ ──────────── ༻

“There’s to be a petition in court.” Your mother solemnly mumbles from her place by the open windows, she’s in one of her moods again and you wish no part of it. Was it Aegon who went and managed to piss her off for the umpteenth time?

You barely look up from the embroidery you’re working on (it’s a beetle for Helaena who has been feeling blue these days), “A petition for what?”

Alicent turns to you with a melancholic look on her face, she’s smiling but it falls short and her somber mood once again returns. “Nothing of importance my sweetling.” She lifts her skirts to take a seat beside you on the floor, “What are you working on?”

“A beetle, for Helaena.” As you’re showing her the doors to your rooms open and a handmaiden stands by with a soft ‘Prince Aemond, your grace,’

“Mother, y/n.” Aemond greets as he takes a seat in the chair next to you, leg crossed over his other. “For Helaena?” He murmurs, leaning down to get a better look.

You speak amongst quiet whispers while Alicent watches, content to see her two children together. “Mother, the petition does it have anything to do with Rhaenyra and her sons?”

Aemond, who had taken the embroidery to try for himself, stops in his tracks. Alicent feared she wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret, especially not with you two being so perceptive all the time. Her prolonged silence was enough answer anyway.

“Yes,” she finally relents, “Lord Corlys’ younger brother wishes to challenge Lucerys’ claim for Driftwood.”

Her tone is hesitant and careful, she looks at Aemond when she says his name. She’s treading carefully with her third born knowing he was particularly sensitive when he got angry.

“By extension the rest of her I presume?” You reach for a lemon cake mumbling to Aemond (‘Share one with me… I said to split it, not have it all.’—‘I did.’)

With the king bed-ridden nearing death and his first born off at Dragonstone, there was no need to hold your tongue. “Her claim will be questioned, as will her first born and second,” Aemond adds.

“I worry sometimes,” Alicent finally says, silence following, “for you, Helaena, Aegon—the children.” You know exactly what she means to tell.

“I do believe Helaena has been in need of some company. You may leave me, I have Aemond.” You reach for her hands and gently squeeze, “I will catch up with you two, yes?”

Alicent studies your face in worry before settling on brushing a few stray hairs out of your face, “Alright, I will see you.” She lays a gentle kiss over your head and rises to her feet.

Once the doors slam shut you finally release the sigh you’ve held in through the entire conversation with half a mind to ask for a bath to soothe your oncoming headache. “Seems our dear nephews will be arriving on the morrow.” He comments.

“Hm, seems so.” You’re not entirely sure how you feel, are you supposed to feel anything?

Things were different now you suppose, your hatred died down over the years without their insulting presence. You didn’t like them either, merely tolerated the idea of them.

Then there was the great Jacaerys Velaryon, future of the realm and heir to the throne, the same boy who plagued your dreams and memories all these years.

And he was to be here tomorrow, the first since Lady Laena’s funeral (which you had believed to be the last time you would ever have to see him).

“You’re free to speak plainly sister, we’re in private, we don't have to keep pretending.” Aemond mutters, head lolling in your direction as he stares at you.

You tilt your head, “And what would you have me say? That I’m looking forward to their little visit?”

“What excuse will it be this time? I don’t think she can easily sway the people with the evidence right there in plain sight,” he hums.

The more you think about her and her children coming here into your home tainting it all over again—you grow furious.

“Help me up will you? I think I’ll take a bath and meet you with mother.” You hope it will be enough to curb your anger for now.

Aemond holds you upright and levels you with a stare, “Something’s bothering you.”

“Well, yes–”

“Not them.” Aemond replies quietly and for a second you still.

You gently stroke the side of his face, watching as Aemond leans into your touch with a closed eye, “I’m fine,” you murmur, “now go.”

Luckily Aemond’s just as sweet on you and Helaena as he is stubborn and observant. He lets it go (thankfully) and you’re left alone to think about tomorrow. You could easily feign sickness or escape to the Sept (you were due for a prayer anyways) but mother would never let you as much as she would like to—your grandsire’s word evidently still strong over her.

You soak in the boiling hot tub, enjoying the steam delicate scents from the oils you regularly use. “That’s a problem for another day,” you find yourself murmuring to no one in particular as you sink further into the tub, eyes slipping shut.

༺ ──────────── ༻

You had done your best to carry on with your duties the following morning.

Nearly an hour had passed since you sat around staring at your reflection instead of allowing the handmaids to dress you. By this hour you’d be with your mother and Helaena in the gardens. Your absence however prompts the queen to come searching.

“What’s wrong?” Alicent whispers sitting beside you on the bed with worry etched on her brow as she gently moves your hair from your shoulder, “y/n?”

You place your hand over hers, “Braid my hair, like when I was child?” You hold the brush out for her to take.

She has you sit on the floor in front of her, gently combing the hair brush through your soft locks handling each strand of hair with care. The two of you fall into comfortable silence (save for her soft humming). All of your frustrations quickly lift off your shoulders the more you sink into her gentle caring touch.

“The dress is beautiful, when did you have this tailored?” Alicent comments softly, it was no secret to anyone that she saw herself in her youngest daughter—dutiful, composed, a good daughter.

The only difference was you had freedom she never did. While she had been made a child bride by her own father, you remained an unwed maiden at the age of twenty by choice. Alicent didn’t push for proposals and Otto knew better than to try and meddle with you like he had with Aegon and Helaena.

(‘Aemond had it made for me, Helaena has one in blue.’—‘The fabric, I don’t believe we have that around here do we?’) Your doors open and your drunken (maybe hungover) brother comes stumbling gracelessly.

“Well don’t you look darling.” He comments under his breath and saunters over to where you sit, falling flat on his back with his head in your lap.

“Aegon.” Alicent warns as she starts on another braid.

You look down and flick his forehead, “You smell of wine, and you're going to dirty my dress.” Despite the annoyance you still comb your fingers through his hair affectionately.

Aegon snorts unceremoniously, “Is it a crime to visit my sister now? My very beautiful sister—do say, when are you going to choose a husband? You’re past the age, and well nearly every lord in the realm’s been asking for your hand.” He smirks slyly knowing very well the topic of marriage angered the shit out of you.

“Aegon that’s enough, stop pestering your sister.” Alicent sighs heavily.

Your eyes flick over to the wine pitcher in your maid’s hands, the threat clear. A harmless grin forms on his face, one you can’t help but mirror teasingly as the two of you settle in silence as to not disturb your mother with children’s banter. You left that for your niece and nephew to do.

“There,” Alicent shows you through the mirror, “do you like it?”

“I love it, thank you.” You leaned back to lay in her lap.

Normally she would frown at receiving such affections but because it was you she held her tongue, never truly bothered by any of it. She allows it for a little longer before gently patting your shoulder.

“I must go and see to it that preparations for our guests are going well my sweetlings. I will see you in court later.” She departs hastily.

“Have you eaten?” You ask Aegon, who shakes his head as you rise to your feet together, “I haven’t either.”

Rhaenys and her granddaughter are the first to arrive on dragonback, and then your dear half-sister with her entourage of children and Daemon.

‘Ha, so they really did it,’ Lady Laena hadn’t been dead for a week and these two had already frolicked around (the night at Driftmark, you’re sure the two figures on the beach were them).

No one had been there to receive them—you certainly didn’t bother, you doubt any of your siblings would. You’re outside in the yard watching Criston Cole train with Aemond again, your brother much more swifter than the knight in comparison to when he was a child.

There’s a proud smile on your lips when Aemond emerges victorious, looking your way with a grin. “Come to watch me?” He tilts his head.

“What does it seem like?” You muse softly after seeing that Aemond has garnered attention from other knights and maids, making a spectacle of his sparring in a outstandish way.

“It seems you want to spar with me,” he smirks.

“Daor.”

Aemond snorts, “Fine,” he picks his sword back up and points it to Cole, “again, I wish to win this next round in my sister’s honor.”

A handmaid is quick to bring you a chair, the sound of swords colliding once again filling the yard. Aemond’s eager to prove he’s surpassed Ser Criston and judging by the small crowd forming he’s eating the attention right up. You hear distant murmurs and whispers but pay no mind, it must’ve been the women from court again who didn’t know how to keep their mouths shut.

“Just look at their hair..” One of them says.

Everyone knows, father, just look at them..

“Princess? Are you alright, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” you hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath in shock and anticipation the entire time.

The swords have stopped and everything goes still, Aemond stands with the tip of his blade pointed in your direction—not at you, but behind you. He had that crazed look in his eye again. You share a look and rise from your seat slowly.

“Nephews, have you come to train?” Your brother’s tone is cold with bitter hate.

Jacaerys stands dumbfounded and unable to form a response, you watch his (soft, plump) lips part but not a single sound comes.

“Nephews.” You quietly say with the tiniest of nods, “It’s been long hasn’t it? I take it the trip over was comfortable, was it not?”

Neither Lucerys nor Jacaerys answer at first with the younger curly-headed boy awkwardly muttering his response, very unbefitting of the next Lord of the Tides.

You barely spare him a look as you turn to Jacaerys, “Would you like me to show you your rooms? I’m sure they’ve been prepared already.”

“..We would appreciate it,” he finally replies, his voice no longer squeaky and high—rather low and suave, “seeing as there was no one to properly welcome us earlier.” His snarky response makes your skin crawl and your temper flare, but for appearances you reel yourself in.

“Apologies, nephews—it’s been a rather exhausting day preparing for the guests.” You force a polite smile.

He fixes you with a dark stare, his gaze dropping from your lips and then back up, “Mm.”

“Follow me,” you hum disappearing into the castle with the two Velaryon boys following close.

Neither one of you made an attempt to speak. What was there to talk about, they were practically strangers and you doubted Lucerys would’ve enjoyed recounting the last time the three of you had the pleasure of sharing the same roof. Jacaerys on the other hand must’ve believed you to be a fool if he thought you hadn't noticed him looking.

Annoyance runs hot through your veins as you finally reach the wing where their rooms sat, “I hope everything is to your liking, don’t hesitate to ask if you need something.”

‘Thank you.’ You hear Lucerys mumble but Jacaerys offers nothing but his heavy stare. “I’ll see you later,” your voice is soft and silky but the lingering (wanton) look you give speaks in volumes.

“Later.” You hear him faintly reply once you’re out of earshot, you can’t help the tiny smirk on your lips.

༺ ──────────── ༻

Court was as you expected—boring and another waste.

You stood by sweet Helaena, who was equally bored, listening as the second son of Driftmark cried over being replaced by a child. A bastard no less, you could only imagine the embarrassment he must have went through—or rather going through because it didn’t seem like he’d be getting a rest from it anytime soon.

During his speech you made eye contact a few times with Jacaerys. You don’t know why it felt natural, like gravity pulled your gaze to him over and over. When you would look he was already watching with the same hunger from before.

The whole fiasco ended in total failure because Vaemond’s killed leaving no challenger. You’re not surprised things worked out in Rhaenyra’s favor after your father wobbled his way to the throne and then had to be carried out because he overexerted himself.

Aemond shields both you and Helaena from the dead body lying on the floor, “That’s enough for today, you’re all dismissed. Someone dispose of the body.” Otto barks through the mess caused by Daemon.

You manage to sneak a last look before being ushered out by your mother and brothers. The walk back quiet and awkward, what was there to say?

“That was..something.” Aegon finally breaks the tense silence.

Your mother doesn’t reply and Aemond snorts, “It was another mess that’s what it was.” You murmur loud enough for them to hear, “Like always, they make a spectacle of themselves and father comes to save the day.”

“Should’ve known father would do that.” Aemond adds in, and it’s true.

You already knew the petition against Rhaenyra’s children of all people would be useless. It was as if the king had a sixth sense when it came to Rhaenyra. Funnily, he was sick enough to be bedridden these past years but well enough to come defend his first born one final time.

“Helaena, why don’t we take the children to the gardens? I’m sure we could both use some fresh air.” You find yourself asking, desperate to forget.

You end up spending the afternoon with Helaena in the gardens talking about everything and nothing. It was always a relaxing affair when it came to your sister and her children. You liked lounging around and watching the twins with a lazy eye. It felt nice having this small escape, kept you from ripping your own hair out over the family drama.

You’re in the middle of playing with Jaehaerys when your mother’s sworn shield interrupts, “Forgive me princesses but your mother has sent me to escort you to tonight's dinner with the king, he has requested all his children be present.”

Helaena’s smile fades and your mood is spoiled for the day, of course the king would pull a stunt like this.

“Hel.” You put a tentative hand on her shoulder, relieved she merely relaxes under your touch. The two of you hesitantly part from the children after promising sweets and more playtime.

Everyone’s barely arriving with your seat being between Aemond’s and grandsire. Aemond looks disinterested (as does everyone else) but you try to put up a farce for the dying old man being carried in. It was possibly his last dinner, might as well make it a memorable one you suppose.

No one wants to speak, Aegon’s got his hands cupped in front of him in exasperation like he’s itching to reach for his wine goblet. Helaena is mumbling to herself mostly and Rhaenyra’s other children stare at their plates.

“Father,” all eyes are on you, “forgive me as I know it was your wish for us to dine together but I’m feeling unwell and would like to rest if I may..” You trail off softly placing your hands on the table, ready to flee.

Jacaerys is still looking down at his plate with a deathly tight grip on his fork. The old croak waves his hand dismissively, smiling painfully, “Yes, go on that’s fine.” He offers a gentle nod at most, you don’t think he even remembers your name.

“Thank you, if you’ll excuse me.” You bow politely,

quickly moving for the exit without a spare glance.

You hear another voice but you can’t make out what they said other than the sound of a chair being pushed out. Something was telling you it was your Strong boy and the thought brings a mischievous smirk to your face as you look over at your sworn shield.

“Leave me, I’ll retire to my rooms alone; you’re dismissed.” You calmly begin walking away.

“But Princess—”

“Go Ser, I will be fine.” You leave no room for argument and hear him reluctantly let out a sigh before heading in the opposite direction.

With the guard handled you find your way through the halls humming in high valyrian until you reach your destination: the king’s council room. It’s dimly lit inside by candles, the windows are open with sounds of small folk singing and dancing heard below.

The slightest creak has you looking to the side without turning your head, “Unwell you said, you must like lying a lot..” He trails off in amusement as he plays with an ornament nearby.

“And what have I lied about nephew? Enlighten me.” You reply softly.

There’s no denying the thrill you’re getting out of this, Jacaerys was bold for following you like this, in a room all alone with no guards around. The secrecy excited you because if anyone were to find you two together—oh they’d think the worst.

An unwed maiden and the prince bastard of Dragonstone.

“You’re acting dense on purpose, putting up a farce—tell me does it make you feel better? Your words, actions—they’re insulting. I don’t think for a moment you’ve had a change of heart.” He scowls, stopping short of the king’s chair.

You spin around to face him with your hands behind your back, “Whatever do you mean?” You can’t help but bat your doe eyes.

Jacaerys hesitates for a second, “You know what I mean, do you take me for a fool.” He says low and threatening, ever so guarded with you.

“Hmm, I’m afraid I don’t know and if you’re just going to keep repeating yourself the door is right there.” You enjoy the look of anger on his face and part your lips to speak once more when he stops you with a hand on your forearm.

The touch is hot, scorching even as you feel the rush of arousal and excitement hit you all at once. No one has ever grabbed you this roughly, or been in the same proximity long enough to keep their head (you had your own way of dealing with unwanted advances).

Yet, Jacaerys still has his hand.

The audacity. “Let go you—” You move to slap him but he grabs your wrist just short of connecting to his face.

“You what? Go on, say it,” he eerily whispers as his hot breath fans over your lips.

Your calm demeanor slips and eyes narrow in anger, “You fucking bastard—unhand me right now!” Your yells are muffled when he seals his lips over yours.

You violently flinch backwards, the kiss bruising as you try pushing him off. In response he merely tightens his hold reminding you he was much stronger than the brat he used to be. Where you move he moves and if you take a step back he takes one forward. Jacaerys slips his hand through your hair and tightly grips, yanking you forward to keep you in place whenever you squirm too much for his liking.

You somehow manage to sneak a hand below your skirts for a dagger you kept and without hesitating bring it up intending to puncture his side. He sees and quickly seizes your wrist, squeezing tight as the blade slips and lands with a clank on the ground.

“I can see the way you look at me,” he whispers all breathless and breathy, “and it kills you to know you want a bastard like me doesn’t it—I wonder if you picture the same things I do,” he briefly pauses as his eyes trail over your swollen lips.

He crowds you into the table with a hand dropping to your hip, “It’s only you and I,” his lips connect with your ear trailing downwards, “you don’t have to pretend; all you have to do is let go.”

Your spine involuntarily arches from his electrifying touch with goosebumps erupting all over. You can’t help the soft gasp when he tugs you towards him by the hip. The very large bulge in his slacks presses stubbornly into your pelvis, hot and throbbing.

“Jacaerys we can’t,” you begin quietly.

“We can’t or you won’t?” He questions dismissively like he doesn’t believe you.

Your lips part and a shaky sigh escapes when he begins leaving open mouthed kisses over your collarbone and shoulders. You pray he doesn’t leave any marks to the naked eye as you’d hate to have to explain the marks on top of your request for moon tea.

“I can’t.” You hope he’d reconsider but to your utter horror Jacaerys sucks harshly over the soft skin of your chest where your tits sit perfectly cupped and pushed together in your dress.

You cry out from the surprise and sensitivity as your hands came up to grip his shoulders tightly. He gives your other tit the same treatment before dropping to his knees with the same lustful look in his eye from earlier.

“Tell me you want this as much as I do,” he pleads as if he desperately needed to hear it from your lips.

“I..” Do you really want him as much as he believes you do? The very thought of him defiling and tainting your purity caused a dark swirl of emotions within you—you want all of him.

Jacaerys licks his lips hungrily and pushes up your skirts until he’s settled in front of your soft thighs. His hot breath fans over them as he inches closer until he’s eye level with your moistened, throbbing cunt.

“..Yes,” you find yourself whispering after a few moments.

A pleased rumble leaves him and he closes the distance between him and your aching cunt. The first stroke of his hot tongue over your sticky folds has you keening in pleasure and your eyes rolling shut, head thrown back. You can’t help your lewd moan—all high and breathy.

Jacaerys works his tongue over your throbbing clit in firm strokes, hands greedily feeling every inch of your smooth skin. You choke when he throws one of your thighs over his shoulder, the angle shattering as he gains more access to your soft virginal pussy; ripe for the taking.

His lips part over it and he takes your aching bud into his mouth, vigorously sucking and lapping. “Jacaerys–” You choke out as his fingers tread over your folds dipping in to press against your soppy hole, the digits gliding rather easily aided by your dripping wetness.

His middle finger slips through—poking and prodding—until he breaches and pushes past the resisting barrier. There’s a sharp whine as your cunt flutters, greedily swallowing up his fingers, “Mmn..”

You notice how he gets when he hears you make those filthy little noises, the flick of his tongue sharp and his grip growing just a bit tighter. You can’t help eagerly rolling your hips on his face, shuddering as your bare cunt slides over his hot mouth and the tip of his nose dips between your folds brushing over your clit.

“Oh gods,” you gasp breathlessly, hips baring down faster and your grip on the table getting tighter.

There’s a filthy moan below your skirts, the vibrations against your pussy have you mewling needily. With little strength you manage to smother your cunt over his face again until he decides to stop teasing and seals his mouth over your throbbing clit once again.

You whimper out a garbled version of his name as the pleasure simmers hot in your lower belly. Your release hurdles towards you fast, almost knocking the breath out of you from how intense.

“Fuck Jacaerys..!” You gasp as the coil finally snaps; leaving you with legs spread wide and hips angled down with your clit in his mouth and his fingers curled up inside you.

You’re blinded by the hot white pleasure and the slick dribbling down your thighs (to which he greedily licks it up with loud unabashed slurps and moans). You shakily push his head away from your sore spent pussy, whining when he lands one last lick over your throbbing clit before letting up.

Jacaerys stands before you in a disheveled state with his swollen, glossed over lips. His tunic’s slightly rumpled and hair clearly out of place from being buried under your skirts for so long.

“Jacaerys,” you quietly start but he quickly silences you with another kiss, this one sweeter than the last.

You can’t help your sigh leaning into his touch, he treats you much more delicately than his harsh bruising kisses from before. He handles you like you’re meant to be—gentle, pampering, soft. The sentiment leaves you eager but disappointingly he pulls away and just..leaves? If you hadn’t been so out of breath you’d call out to him.

You lay your hand over your chest shuddering at the cool sensation of drying slick between your thighs. A rational side of you argues it’s for the best things ended before escalating but another wants to seek him out.

“Princess?” You hear one of your ladies in waiting from the other side of the door.

You shove your skirts down and fix your hair in an attempt to look modest. “Princess,” her face relaxes and she approaches you with open arms, “your mother sent me, are you still feeling unwell?”

“I’m fine, I’d like to have a bath now,” you take her arm biting your inner cheek to fight the fierce heat blossoming over them from embarrassment, “you shall speak nothing of this to my mother, yes?”

“Yes, my lady.”

No one comments on your troubled look while they bathed and dressed you. They knew better than to poke at the dragon; especially one that was upset.

You’re dressed in a white dainty dress you’d gotten as a gift from Aegon (though you suspected he had other intentions when he gifted it to you). You’re left sitting prettily over soft comforters and cushions, skin still smelling like rich oils and softer than a fox's fur.

“That will be all, thank you.” You bid your ladies good night and see them out just as your sworn shield takes his place in front of your chambers.

༺ ──────────── ༻

Sleep does not come as quickly as you had hoped. You’ve lost count of the hour, too entranced by the crackling firewood and waves hitting the cliffs. The candles have long died out and the moonlight took its place as your source of lighting.

You were tempted to escape to Helaena’s room using the secret tunnels but your sister could either be with Aegon or asleep. Your mother was out of question as she would chastise you about how unbecoming it is of a lady to be sneaking around during the hour of the owl.

(You’d never hear the end of it you’re afraid.)

As you roll over onto your stomach your breath hitches when the soft material glides against your swollen cunt. You quietly hiss and rub your thighs to ease the tension but it only worsens. Your clit pulses wildly, simmering heat boiling in your belly.

“Fuck.” You mutter rolling onto your back with your knees knocked apart, Jacaerys had really done a number on you.

You swallowed harshly thinking about his thick fingers and how your pussy was stretched to the brim. Your cunt flutters as you gasp softly, gods how you wanted to finish what he started earlier in the council room.

Would he lay you down tenderly and fuck you sweet or would he have you like one of those women from the streets of silk? Like a whore bent over and mounted like a bitch where he’d fuck years of hate and anger into you. Anger for what you had done and said about him and his brothers.

The thought does not bother you in the slightest, rather you’re aroused. You don’t have to pretend; all you have to do is let go..

You set your pride aside and slip into slippers sneaking into the secret tunnels. You walk with haste recalling where every room was after Aegon first showed you and Aemond the tunnels. You stand before his door waiting anxiously after giving three hard knocks.

The tunnel floods with light and Jacaerys stands over you, his own body casting a shadow. You stare up at him with parted lips and a dreamy glaze in your eyes. He doesn’t hesitate to bring you closer until your cheek is pressed against his chest.

“Jace,” your voice is nothing more than a whisper yet the grip you have on his robes says otherwise.

He hauls you into his arms leaving you no time to gasp before he’s pinning you onto the silken sheets. He stares down at you intensely, his grip around your wrists tight and secure. Both arms encase you on either side of your head leaving you to marvel up at the Strong Velaryon boy.

Jacaerys says nothing when he tugs his own tunic and robes off with one hand. Each article of clothing falls one by one onto the ground, the bed creaking in protest under his weight as he comes to kneel over you once again.

Throughout this whole ordeal you’ve held intense eye-contact with him, a challenge you most certainly welcomed as he still possessed those flames of desire and anger from before. With a clenched jaw he brings both your wrists to one hand and reaches below with his free to grasp his hard cock.

You can’t help but look, having to bite down on your tongue to hold in the whine that threatened to escape. The weeping head dripped pearly white seed over your soft mound from where he stroked himself. The pulsing heat between your thighs quickly becoming unbearable.

He lowers his hips until his pelvis is smushed into yours, his hard dripping cock trapped between the two of you pressed into your inner thigh. The contact is scalding with the way it throbs, how you yearn for him to take it and fuck you silly with it.

“Jacaerys,” you quietly choke, voice raspy and thick with want & need.

“This will hurt.” He carefully gauges your reaction for any discomfort or hesitance.

“Show me then, my lord Strong. Claim me as you would if I were yours, your ‘plain’ appearance is not of importance to me sweet nephew,” you purr sweetly, “we share blood of the dragon, you and I..”

You decide he needs one last push.

“Imagine a babe just like us…he wouldn’t look like a bastard, no,” his nose flares and grip tightens, “but everyone will know when they see his strong curls—”

A cry spills from your lips as Jacaerys slams his cock into you, buried to the hilt where his soft balls meet your pert cheeks. The pain burns but it’s laced with pleasure in a bittersweet way, still you can’t help the soft hisses that slip through clenched teeth each time he shifts around.

You struggle to house all of him inside, what he lacks in length he makes up for in girth; fat and thick with swollen pussy lips stretched around him wrapped tight and snug. To your utter surprise however, he’s not upset at your small jab—he looks as if he were actually picturing a child with you.

“And yet you still lie beneath me, speared on a bastard’s cock,” he grunts.

Jacaerys rolls his hips, not giving you any time to adjust, “You’ll bear my children fearing they won’t come out like their father—brown hair,” thrust, “brown eyes,” thrust, “every bit of me.” He whispers low and menacing in your ear, his speed relentless and punishing.

The stinging pleasure worsens and your eyes water, it’s a sort of bone deep pleasure balanced out by the pain that was beginning to dull. You were powerless under the Velaryon Prince as you could only helplessly toss your head back from the sweet pain.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you? To have my bastards?” He licks his lips and switches his pace to a more smoother one, still jabbing nonetheless but albeit more calmer.

You grit your teeth in refusal to answer, but he didn’t need your answer as he descended upon your lips hungrily and fucked into you faster. Your moans get swallowed up by both him and the slick accompanying his wet thrusts causing you to burn with embarrassment over your filthy coupling.

Your traitorous gaze drops downwards again, the sight leaving you in breathless awe. He has specks of blood smeared against his skin, his cock faring no better as it’s covered in creamy pink. You experimentally squeeze around him just to watch his mouth drop open in a small ‘o’ shuddering through the pleasure.

“Again,” he groans softly, “fuck, more.” He gasps while desperately grinding into you.

You wrap your shaking thighs around his waist and tug him closer until he’s trapped against you unable to pull out. He huffs and kisses your sweaty skin, his hips tilting to bump and grind into that sensitive spot from before.

“Oh Jacaerys,” your back arches and toes curl.

Throaty little moans spill from his lips over each rhythmic squeeze around his swollen cock. He fucks into that soft sticky heat just listening to the filthy wet sounds your cunt makes. He enjoys the soft thwacks of his balls slapping against your taint, splattering creamy slick over the sheets.

“Oh,” you shudder, peak hitting harder than ever

You feel the warmth and utter bliss/satisfaction when you come down from your high. Dollops of wet slick spill from the sides of your stuffed pussy, a phantom pulsing sensation most likely from the aftermath of your orgasm.

“Fuck, I’m gonna–” He bites back his needy moan, pressing deeply to ensure every drop gets buried in your cunt. It seemed like you were going to pay a visit to the maestar soon for moon tea.

However you were far more concerned about your ability to walk, you could barely even feel the space between your legs much less your cunt and knees.

༺ ──────────── ༻

Peace never really lasts long in the Red Keep, not with the never ending feud between both your families.

From what you heard, shortly after Jacaerys left you the first time he joined dinner again only to find himself punching Aemond while Aegon slammed Lucerys into his plate. Aemond had done it again with his taunts over your nephew’s legitimacy.

Rhaenyra was leaving again after those years gone, which meant Jacaerys would be gone too. You hadn’t voiced your displeasure nor let it show when the boys were seen off to their dragons at the pit. You hid by a column, peeking out watching them saddle up for their journey home.

Jacaerys doesn’t notice you at first but when he does he stops and his gaze softens with pity. “Aunt.” He greets striding over with his arms behind his back.

“Jacaerys.” You greet quietly, refusing to meet his eyes in a stubborn act of defiance.

He tilts your chin up gently and forces you to look, “This doesn’t have to be the end you know,” he brushes a stray hair from your face, “unless you want to stop?”

“I don’t,” you find yourself snapping quicker than he can finish which makes him smile, “you know I don’t. I just don’t see how it’s possible to continue..this, if you’re so far away on Dragonstone.” You mumble and cup his cheek.

Jacaerys leans into your touch with a hum, “I’m a dragon ride away my love,” your cheeks burn at the endearment, “I’ll send ravens if I have to—you don’t need to worry about a single thing.”

You gently peck his lips and sigh, “..If you don't write to me, I will..” You trail in high valyrian whilst squeezing his hand until it pops threateningly. He laughs low and brings your hand up to kiss, instantly quelling your temper.

“I swear it,” he replies, kissing your knuckles once more despite Luke calling out to him in the background, his dragon calling out for him.

You allow a soft smile as you whisper ‘go’, no doubt your mother would be looking for you as well. You watch him leave your side once again only this time you knew he’d be returning sometime soon as the king neared the hour of death.

No one knew of your little letters you exchanged with Jacaerys over the course of weeks. He would send you flowers and other things he’d find around Dragonstone while you sent perfumed handkerchiefs or oil scented letters.

You knew he particularly loved when the paper smelled like you. (You’d be rewarded with vulgar responses.)

‘My beloved, everything reminds me of you and how you might enjoy this if you were here. I’d give anything to have you here by my side dressed in Targaryen colors. I personally think red suits you best my love, don’t you think? I’ll have a dress tailored to fit in all the right places, perhaps we can arrange a slit for easy access? You’d enjoy that wouldn’t you?’

If your mother noticed your odd behavior, she didn’t comment. Alicent knew very well what a lovestruck girl looked like as she had been one herself not too long ago. No one comments on the frequent visits to the dragon pit where you’d disappear for hours on end returning once the moon had risen.

The illusion shatters however when Viserys dies.

Right away your mother and grandsire crown Aegon as king. You should feel indifferent about the throne but you can’t help the ugly feeling you get upon seeing Aegon the conqueror's crown over your brother’s head. He was no king. He was not made to be king.

War was coming. With Aegon usurping Rhaenyra, as if that wasn’t enough, Aemond goes and fucking kills your nephew in some petty child’s game.

You heard the boy sunk into the waters after Vhagar mauled his tinier dragon. When you were flying over you heard Vermax’s loud cries of anguish, no doubt feeling his riders emotions as Jacaerys mourned Lucerys.

Your own dragon cried out in return as you swiftly landed and hopped off, stumbling through the sand as Jacaerys quickened his pace. You meet each other halfway with him falling into your arms, brokenly sobbing.

His loud cries are drowned out by the harsh waves hitting shore and seagulls flying around. At that very moment it’s only you and him standing on that beach wrapped up in each other’s arms. You press a series of kisses against his temple, tightening your hold when you feel him tremble.

“Shh.. sh, my love. I’m here.” You murmur soothingly.

Jacaerys swallows harshly, “He…he killed him,” he croaks out, “he’s gone.” It physically hurts seeing him unable to speak, just choking up over his words like a little boy crying for his mother.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

You hold him until he grows tired of sobbing, resorting to softer sniffles as he cowers in your hold. Jacaerys has a death grip around your waist where his fingers dig into you unknowingly. “I can’t lose you.” He mutters.

You will never forget the haunting look in his eye. Jacaerys had already lost his brother, he would not be losing you either..

༺ ──────────── ༻

..A son for a son they said after the ratcatchers beheaded Jaehaerys in his sleep.

You were up for days unable to process the grief and horror, moreso you felt for Helaena (beautiful Helaena who hadn’t deserved any of this). The way your mother had allowed the death of a child—her own blood—to be handled was despicable.

You saw Otto Hightower for what he was: a power hungry cunt. Your own brothers were strangers to you, Aemond having killed his own nephew in cold blood and Aegon a bloodthirsty idiot who didn’t know what he was doing.

You understand why Viserys favored Rhaenyra now.

“He’s a fool, mother was right to tell him he would be more useful doing nothing,” you sharply reply.

You’re in Jacaerys’ room after a sneaky endeavor in his bed all afternoon, complaining about your stupid brothers. Your lover lays on his side with a hand supporting his head listening attentively with a loving gaze.

“What was it you said that he told Aemond—I can have to make a war?” Jacaerys snorts in amusement brushing his fingers through your hair.

“He’s an idiot. It’s a wonder anyone can actually stand being in the same room as him, if he’s not crying about Aemond making plans behind his back then he’s crying that no one respects him.” You shake your head.

“Hm, my mother still thinks we can avoid war,” he sighs deeply, “if only it were easy, right?” He slides your hand in his, holding it tightly while stroking over your knuckles with his thumb.

You can’t help but squeeze back, “Patience my love, everyone already sees how incompetent Aegon is. He’s already the usurper in their eyes and nobody really listens to him so to speak.”

“Suppose you're right about a few things.” Jacaerys’ gaze drops to your plush lips, still swollen and bitten-raw from his punishing little nips and aggressive kissing.

Your stomach swoops with excitement as a playful grin forms over your lips, “Only a few things?” You lean down to whisper, lips inches away from his.

He smiles lazily and cups your cheeks, “Of course not you know I trust your judgment, my love.” He mumbles soothingly while brushing over your loose curls.

He looks beautiful like this—the sheets hung low around his bare hips and the love bites littered across his shoulders and neck. You’d like to stay forever like this with him, all tangled up and the only sounds being your soft voices and the waves hitting the cliffs by his open window.

“Do you? Or is my prince only saying that because he desires a kiss?”

It’s comical the way Jacaerys lights up like a child faced with a fresh batch of lemon cakes. He eagerly slots his lips over yours and draws your naked body closer to him until his stirring cock is pressed flush against your hip—still coated in wet slick and oils from earlier.

You reach with one hand to tangle it through his soft curls, yanking his head back, “That isn’t an answer my love; does my prince want a kiss or not?” You ask firmer this time.

His eyes hollow darkly as he licks his lips, “May I? Your prince desires it.” He whispers low and breathy. When he says it like that you simply can’t deny as you eagerly press into him.

Jacaerys wraps his arms around your back and hauls you under him pinning you down against the soft sheets. You moan into his mouth reaching below to grasp his heavy cock in your soft palm and squeezing the head.

“Seems he desires more than a kiss,” you husk, tugging at his cock and enjoying the way he chases your touch.

“I want to claim every inch of you until you’re filled with my cum, maybe this time you will catch,” He finishes with a growl in high valyrian.

His cock slides between your sticky folds bumping and slipping against your clit. You angle the tip downward until it catches against your rim with a hitch, “Jace,” you sigh.

You feel every inch until he’s fed your cunt his cock. The stretch is mouthwateringly good, you don’t think you’ll ever find anyone else who could come this close to pleasuring as Jacaerys did. He wastes no time in rocking into you with long forceful thrusts.

“Oh fuck,” you thread your fingers through his hair turning your head away.

Jacaerys messily mouths along your neck and shoulder with muffled groans while desperately covering every inch of your skin with his mouth. You catch him off guard when you wrap your limbs around him and roll the two of you over.

“Lie back my love,” you seductively whisper.

He watches, entranced as you set your hands over his bare chest and push. The delicious weight combined with the heavenly warmth around his cock has his head rearing back and a long moan escaping.

You bite down on your lip taking in his every reaction. From this angle he strikes deep leaving you with a pleasant ache you’d be feeling the coming days. “Oh fuck.” You gasp, hips stuttering in their movements.

Jacaerys gets his hands over your hips and tugs you back down over his lap causing a groan to bubble out of your throat. He uses his newfound grip to bounce you in his lap until a low fopping sound from his thighs smacking into your cheeks fills the room.

Your gasps come out in short stuttered breaths with the occasional ‘mm’ thrown in there. Mid-roll you manage to firmly plant yourself in his lap trapping his fat cock in your wet cunt. You feel it twitching inside, desperate for another release.

Soft ‘ah, ah, ah’s fill the room alongside the sounds of sheets shuffling and seagulls in the distance. You’re lost in the moment basking in sunny rays and hot bubbling pleasure. His grip not once loosening nor slipping.

“Seven hells, you’re going to be the death of me.” He breathlessly groans.

His cock pulses faintly and then you’re being filled with thick spurts of white. He lazily squeezes your soft cheeks, watching with a blissed out expression. While you had yet to reach your own peak, you also didn’t mind just this.

Your hips came to a stop and you found yourself laying over his chest staring out at the orange-pink sky as you mumble, “I love you.”

༺ ──────────── ༻

Helaena hasn’t spoken much about your nephew since the funeral. She says she’s fine but you doubt that’s any true, you supposed she grieved differently. Helaena has always been a special case (in a positive light).

“Aegon left to battle,” you find yourself saying after an hour of silence, “Aemond too.”

Helaena can offer no insight as she kneels before her caged insects, speaking in soft whispers like she usually did, only this time her tone accompanied by her soft hums.

“How is Jaehaera?”

“..Fine.” More humming.

“And what have you embroidered as of lately–”

“You can go,” she softly interrupts, “everything is fine.” You’re stunned, maybe you overstepped and she wasn’t in need of visitors. That was fine, Helaena’s doing fine—

Your sister reaches over to grasp your hands tightly, staring into your eyes, “Everything will be fine. You must leave or else it will be too late,” a pained smile forms over her lips, “you will be one soon, and then two.”

“..what about you?” Your eyes watered, you dread the thought of leaving her here to suffer alone at the hands of Aegon.

Helaena lays a sweet kiss over your head, “There’s a storm coming, it makes flying harder.”

You wipe your tears and shakily nod, embracing her one last time before rushing through the hidden tunnels to your room. In a satchel you threw a few items of importance along with jewelry you doubt you’d need but something in your gut told you otherwise.

It’s easy to slip unnoticed through the tunnels and keep, the city proves much harder. You manage to pass through the small folk using alleys and hidden paths until you’re outside of the dragon pit. None of the dragon keepers question you and simply bring out Melaxes.

She senses your anxiety and begins to whine, “Shh, lykirī.” You’re quick to soothe her by leaning your forehead against her side.

When she calms down you guide her out of the pit, “Soves,” you murmur and Melaxes roars into the sky disappearing into the thick clouds.

You will be one soon, and then two.

Realization dawns: you haven’t bled for two moons now. Your hand immediately comes up to cover the swell of your stomach. Of course, what were you expecting?

You didn’t drink fucking moon tea and Jacaerys never cared to pull off. Your throat tightens up and tears spring to your eyes, “No,” you claw at your collar heaving.

Rook’s Rest. Rook’s Rest. Rook’s Rest. Your eyes widened—Larys Strong had heard talks of Princess Rhaenys and Prince Jacaerys going to battle together..

“Naejot!” You plunge forward until Melaxes zips above the sea, you pray to whatever god listening that Jacaerys is there safe and sound waiting for you.

You leave her not too far from the castle as you run up the hill towards the one place you knew he’d have to be. It’s a miracle no one notices Alicent Hightower’s youngest daughter storming through the halls until you reach Rhaenyra’s council room.

No one’s there.

“Oh fuck..” You whisper with a hand over your stomach, “No, no, no, no.” (There’s a loud ringing in your ear and it won’t stop.)

The tears come before you can even stop them as your vision quickly blurs. There’s something in your throat but it won’t come out no matter how much you heave and gag on your saliva.

“Mmn,” you whimper in discomfort and pain while curling away, refusing to believe Jacaerys was gone. You want your mother.

Your arm shakily shoots out to grab onto the stone for balance, “..please,” it comes out as a wheeze.

“y/n?” Was this a cruel dream? Jacaerys frowns and immediately starts walking to your side, “What’s wrong?”

He’s met with your lips and a tight crushing grip when you bury your fingers through his hair. You fiercely smother him in a desperate kiss which draws out a hiss from him when you bite his bottom lip.

“..We have to leave,” you mumble.

“Leave?” He frowns, “What do you mean?”

“Jacaerys, please trust me—we need to go,” you desperately plead.

Jacaerys shakes his head, “y/n you’re not making sense right now, leave where? And what of my mother? What of Baela, Rhaena, Joffrey? What of my duty as heir to the throne? You say it as if it’s so simple.”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“Why won’t you just tell me?!” He slams his hand over the table.

“I’m expecting a child,” you choke up, “and I don’t want my baby to die, Jacaerys. I want our baby to live.” You cry softly.

Jacaerys goes eerily still, silently watching you weep all you’ve held in until now. His eyes cast downward over the Targaryen pin on his tunic, glistening under the light shining proudly as a reminder of where he came from.

He says nothing and reaches up to unpin the dragon sigil resting over his shoulder. He reaches over to silently do the same with your own before neatly placing both over the table, releasing his sharp breath.

There’s no other way around this regardless if you stayed or not your child was in danger simply by living and breathing. The Greens would come after you, maybe Aemond would be the one to kill you or perhaps even Daemon. Your child would be dead either way as the king made it obvious how he felt about bastard children.

Jacaerys turns to you with a gentle but pained smile, and in that moment you knew what he chose. Your lip curls sadly and with an outstretched hand you accept him. He squeezes tightly like he’s afraid you’ll vanish into thin air.

“I love you.” He whispers, pressing his forehead to yours, his hand manages to sneak between the two of you to press into your stomach where your child would soon grow.

Neither one of you says anything while Jacaerys packs what he plans to take. He writes to Rhaenyra and leaves the letter in plain sight over his desk. It’s quiet but comforting as he leads you to Melaxes and Vermax.

When she finds the letter Rhaenyra weeps. She can’t find it in her to be upset with him and while yes you had been another insolent brat as a child; you were still her half-sister who was now carrying her grandchild.

“If we fly out now we might catch up to them.” Daemon seethes as he paces back and forth before the queen, “This is just absurd, has the boy officially gone mad? A Hightower cunt no less.” He scoffs.

“Leave them, they’ve made their choice and we will make ours.” Rhaenyra shoots a pointed look at anyone who dares protest. She knows she’s vulnerable now that she’s lost two heirs.

..and if she hears the small folk speaking of two dragon riders traveling across the narrow sea, months later after reclaiming Kings Landing; she turns a blind eye and prays.

+ translations:

dohaerās (serve)

daor (no)

lykirī (be calm)

soves (fly)

naejot (forward)

[ikusayu-no-hana]

actually [redacted] was right. susanoo loves the world bc it continues and orochi loves the world bc it ends

[aphroditestempleimagines]

I burn for you

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Reader - 18+

Words: 3574

Warnings: jealous, yelling, cursing, passionate sex, rough sex, possessive behaviour (borderline yandere themes but consent guys nothing too wild), rubbing, vaginal fingering, oral sex (fem!receiving), spanking, gropping, restraints (hands), orgasm denial, overstimulation (tiny bit), nipple play

Summary: Your engagement to the heir to the Gojo clan has been arranged since you were young. Yet you can't help but realize that Satoru himself does not seem to care, neither about duty nor about you. In your sorrow you slept with his old, now criminal, friend Suguru Getou. You did not know just how much this would hurt Gojo.

Colour: Hot, rough and very angsty as always

His love series - part 2

Author's note: i'm at the ssn office for the 100th time and this time I'm writing smut. Joke's on them, i'm having fun this time, not gonna cry over them.

You lay on the couch as the slight footprints of Getou's cursed energy were washed away by the tide of time. If you could focus you could still feel the warmth of his embrace as it enveloped you. You could recall the safety of his arms as he planted a small kiss on the crown of your hair. Your hand glided over the cushions. Your heart ached. You would never have imagined that the memory of only one night could linger so much in your mind. Flashbacks of his love popped randomly in your head, from the way he caressed your skin to the words he whispered in your ear.

Gojo would never do that.

A knock on the door. You were not expecting anyone. You readied your fist with cursed energy behind your back as you looked through the eyelet. It was Gojo. You put out the spell and opened the door.

"Do you have any idea how worried I was?", he said coldly, "You left in the middle of the faculty dinner"

"And you honestly can't think of a reason why I left?", you responded harshly.

"What are you talking about?", he crossed his arms.

"You turned me into a joke, Satoru!", you yelled at his face. He looked left and right, checking the corridor.

"You don't have to yell, let's talk about this inside", he placed his hands on your arms.

"I don't want to talk about it anymore. I can't keep doing this. I can't keep looking the other way when you keep parading around as if you're this prized bachelor", tears of frustration spilled from your eyes in front of his shocked face, "And what the hell was that about wishing you were never engaged to me? I'm sorry Satoru. I'm sorry I'm such a BURDEN to you. I didn't choose this either but at least I'm TRYING to be DECENT!"

You heaved as you spat the last words. Everything you wanted to tell him spilled out like a cataract. He lowered his head. "I didn't mean it like that", he said. His eyes reached up and removed his blindfold, letting his hair fall in front of his frozen blue eyes. "I only meant....I....", he tried to find his words, "I'm sorry, I can see how it must have sounded but....", he raised his head to meet your gaze, but as he finished the sentence he saw something else as well. Like hypnotized he moved past you and towards the living room.

Your heart clenched. You knew already what he must have noticed. Gojo's eyes were not like anyone else's. He could detect cursed energy better than anyone else; no matter if the individual to whom it belonged was around or not.

He turned slowly, his eyes lingering on the floor again for a while before he raised them to meet yours. Instead of simply hurt, they now seemed betrayed.

"Who was here?", he asked but you knew he had already guessed.

You did not respond. He looked around, probably checking with his six eyes whether Getou was still in the apartment. You saw the sadness being painted on his face as he realized his friend was once again long gone. His gaze fell on the empty bottle of sake Getou had left behind.

"Were you drinking?", he asked puzzled.

"Does it matter?"

"Why was he here?", he approached you.

"Nothing, just visiting"

"How much did you have to drink?", he waited for a while but even without you speaking he got his answer. "Did you sleep with him?"

You walked back to close the door. The neighbors did not have to hear this as well. "You're being ridiculous", you told him.

"So you did", he rubbed his beautiful blue eyes, urging the tremble in his voice to calm down, "I can't believe he'd take advantage of you like this, he's changed for sure". He turned his back on you.

"He didn't take advantage of me!", you objected this time, "I wanted to-"

"That's even worse!", Satoru cried.

"Why do you care?", you screamed back at him, "You have Utahime and all the others you like to chase to pretend you're a fucking playboy"

"Fuck Utahime"

"I bet you have"

He turned back to face you, his eyes wide open.

You took a deep breath. "I understand that this engagement has been hard for you and you might think things were taken away from you", you avoided his gaze, "But do you think it isn't for me? I'm stuck with someone who not only does not love me but is also showing it off."

You peaked at his response. His face had straightened out, all the clownery he usually put on suddenly washed out. He moved closer.

"I don't love you?", he said mockingly.

You scoffed. He did not. You continued smiling until you realized how close he had gotten. You showed your anger in your face again.

"Are you expecting me to believe that you do?", you shot.

"I'm not the one who's been sleeping around"

"Do you think I'm stupid Satoru?"

His left hand pulled you by the waist, his right by the nape. He crashed his lips with yours into a deep kiss that took your breath away. You were still recovering from the shock when he tore himself apart to take a breath, the hot air collapsing on your cheeks as he heaved.

"I don't love you? Is that it? I've hurt you?", he said and you only then noticed the complicated feelings buried beneath the frozen lake of his eyes. You could have sworn you could just make out some tears forming at the brim. "I have loved only two people in my life. And they fell in love with each other"

You gave him a confused look. "What are you sayi-'"

He kissed you again, this time using his body to crash your forms onto the front door. He lodged his knee between your legs, all the while caressing your body.

"Satoru-"

"I love you", he kissed your neck, your shoulder, your collarbone. He slowly unraveled the tie of your robe and pushed it over your shoulders. "I love you so much I have to stay away from you", he said burying his fingers in your hair.

"Satoru...", you placed your hand on his head, threding your fingers between his silver locks. You carefully peeled him away from your torso. "Don't do this", tears brimmed from your eyes, "Don't let this be a lie".

He climbed back up. He was so tall, he towered over you. He took your hands in his and pressed them against the door, fingers entwining together. "I would never lie about this", he said against your lips. He kissed you again. "I lost him, I'm not losing you", he said determined, "I don't care if you don't love me. Just promise me you'll stay. Promise me you'll never leave me. I can't let you go. I won't let you go."

He alternated between words and kisses as his hands dove underneath your clothes to taste the warmth of your skin. You were losing your breath. He did not let go of your lips long enough for you to think.

"Gojo..."

"Did you call him by his last name too?", he growled against your neck. He turned your body around. His arms embraced your form, his hand sneaking down the collar of your shirt as he kissed your shoulder. He buried his face in your hair, but you could still hear the tremble of his breath. "He can't have you", he said, "He's taken away so much from me and I still wasn't able to hate him. But this is too much"

Some stray tears streamed down your face. "Bastard", you told him, "Couldn't you have said that once in all these years?"

He tightened his grip as if he feared you were ready to leave him behind. "I could", he touched his forehead to your shoulder, "I'm sorry".

"Gojo"

"No"

"Satoru"

He nipped at your neck in approval. His large hand cupped your face, thumb caressing your cheek.

"Do you love Suguru?", you asked. He sighed but did not respond. "Do you hate him?", you asked again.

"I will if he takes you away"

"If I leave", you said, "it'd be because you pushed me to"

He tightened his grip again. "I won't let that happen", he said.

"It's already been happening"

He caught his breath. "Do you want to leave?", he asked. It was clear he had to force his arms to loosen their embrace. He did not speak; he barely breathed as he waited for your answer.

"Don't let me go", you finally said, voice trembling.

He wasted no time to pull you back into his arms. One hand turned your head towards him so he could catch your lips in a passionate kiss, the other dove underneath your trousers until its fingers reached far enough to play with your bud. You moaned as his tongue entwined with yours. You could feel the hardness growing in his trousers as he pressed your bodies together. He scraped your lower lips with the back of his digits until he finally thrust one of them inside. His hand lifted your chin and he nipped on your neck and shoulder. You threw your arm back until you hooked it over his nape, keeping his lips close to your skin. He thrust another finger inside you. He curled the two of them together, scraping your walls with their pads. He took notice of your change in breath and gropped your breast underneath your cotton shirt. His one thumb circled your nipple as his other played with your clit. His hands slowly peeled away your clothes, discarding them along with his own. His knee urged your legs apart.

"Bend your knees", he whispered.

You did not understand the reason but you were too drunk in him not to do so. He crashed his fish with his palm in front of you and suddenly you were falling onto your bed. He pulled your body so that you sat on his thighs, back on his chest. He drew your panties to the side, his nail scraping on your bud back and forth.

"Don't tease me", you trembled.

"Where's the fun in that?", he touched his cheek to yours, "You're so hot right now".

"Then get on with it", your voice caught as you clenched around his scissored fingers, "I need you inside me"

"How many times did he make you come?"

He entered another finger. He had set up a proper pace but his question dispersed your clouded thoughts.

"What?"

"How many times did Suguru make you come?", Satoru asked again, "I'm not stopping until I make your body at least remember who will treat it best"

"Satoru"

"Two? Three?", he pinched your breast, his fingers plunging faster between your walls.

"Ngh, two"

Gojo scoffed. "That's weak"

You could not catch your breath. His hands were touching you in all the right places. His teeth grazed your skin every other moment, sending an ecstatic shiver all over your limbs. Your hips chased his fingers as they left your walls, only for your legs to trap his hand between them once he thrust them back in. You were so close. You circled your bud until your body began to tremble in the break of your orgasm. You came over his fingers and he traced their wetness over your torso, from your legs to your lips. In the last moment, he pulled them away and shoved them inside his mouth in an emphatic display. He took hold of your arms and restrained them with one hand behind your back. He reached for a pillow and let your head rest upon it as he had you on your knees.

"Don't cheat", he planted his face on your core, tracing your lower lips with a line of kisses. His silver hair tickled your skin. His tongue delved deeper inside your walls. You buried your moans into the pillow. He opened your entrance further with his other hand and placed another kiss.

He took a moment to breathe as he cupped your core. Then he returned his lips to your entrance, his hand reaching to free his erection. He pumped it at the sound of your moans, his thumb tracing the precum leaking from the top.

"Do you want me?", his warm breath collapsed against your core.

"Yes", you breathed, "I want you Satoru"

He seemed to take courage to continue at the sound of that. "I want you too", he said, "I need you so much it's killing me. But I need you to come one more time first". He flicked your bud with his tongue. "Think you can do that?"

You buried your face in the pillow once more. Your cheeks were too red to show your face to him. "Mhm", you squealed as his tongue traced your folds again.

"That's my girl", he whispered in a low tone before he concentrated fully on extracting another orgasm out of you.

Your body instinctively tried to wiggle out of his grip but it was no use. Your legs squeezed together. He let go of his length. He grabbed your thigh and pulled your core towards his lips. You could not soften your moans even with the pillow. Not anymore. You turned your head to the side and cried out loud as you lost your mind in the depths of pleasure. That only seemed to edge him on. His fingers rubbed on your clit vigorously and that was enough to send you over the hill. You heaved as your body climbed down from euphoria, your juices trailing down your thighs.

Satoru pressed your sensitive clit with his thumb. Your body twitched. He let go of your hands and took you into his arms again. You gave him a smile to let him know you were alright, a response that liberated his held breath. He reached forward and planted a kiss on your forehead.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?", his words dripped with lust in your ear.

You had a pretty good idea what you were doing to him. In fact, you could feel it pressing on the small of your back as he held you close. Your hand reached behind you for his nape. The sense of his hair entwining between your fingers reassured you that this was real.

"Satoru", you looked up to him, "Do you really love me?"

Your question seemed to catch him by surprise. He touched his forehead to yours. "I adore you", he said, "Why won't you believe me?"

"Cause", you averted your eyes, "You're Satoru Gojo"

He caught his breath. His brows furrowed. He let you slide out of his arms and pulled himself up to lay on the bed. He placed his hands at your waist and lifted you up; to your surprise he placed you on top of him, letting his body fall underneath yours.

"What are you doing?", he led your hands on his.

He smiled. "I'm setting myself at the mercy of the woman stronger than Satoru Gojo"

"The hell are you talking about?"

He placed your hands over his heart, then pulled at them so you'd bent closer. "You've defeated me", he said, giving you a kiss, "I'm yours as much as you're mine".

You squeezed his hands. You guided them onto the mattress and realised he was letting you. Those brilliant blue eyes were looking up at you with adoration. The heart you once believed to be hollow, beated loudly underneath his bare chest. Your eyes grew wide. This monster of a man who kept jujutsu society in order under the mere fear of his power's immense strength, was now sitting below you, voluntarily helpless, and you knew he would not cower to fulfil any demand you made. It was a strange sort of power he had placed upon your lap and it was exhilarating.

"Do you understand now?", he asked sternly. He smiled at your nod. "I'm in pain when I'm around you", he smirked, "Will you help me?"

You chuckled. "You jackass"

He smiled as he opened the package of a condom with his teeth. You lifted your hips as he carefully rolled it down his length. Your hair fell round his face. He traced your lower lips with his tip; up and down, up and down, until your body trembled and your hips chased him.

"Satoru", you whined, "put it in"

He gave you a kiss. "What my love wants, my love gets", he said as he plunged his length between your walls. He guided your hips downwards until he bottomed out and held you still. You tried to wiggle your hips but he would not let you. His lips kept chasing yours, each kiss deeper than the previous one. "This is why I was trying to stay away from you", he said, "You're worse than alcohol"

"What are you talkikg about?", you tried to move your hips again.

He lifted you up enough to slam you back down. You tried to catch your breath at the sudden roughness. "I wanted you to experience life before we were bound together. But I can't do that anymore", he said, "I can't share you with some rando now that I've tasted your sweetness. I'm already drunk."

Once again he lifted you up, but this time he slammed his hips towards you as he brought you down. Your hand pressed at the mattress next to his head.

"Satoru..."

"I'm gonna fuck you so good you're never gonna want another dick in that tight pussy of yours", he breathed against your lips, "Would you like that?"

"Yes...", you felt your body catch ablaze.

He ran his hands on your sweated form, a mischievous smile on his face. He started moving your hips, twisting them slightly to drag his full length along your velvet walls. You fought the overwhelming haze that clouded your thoughts as he bounced you harder and harder against his cock. You brought your hand to wrap around his throat. He groaned. You felt him twitch inside you. You planted your knees more firmly and moved your hips on your own. Satoru smirked. Now he could thrust his own his up to meet yours. His eyes drank your reddened face, his ears your cries of pleasure; They joined his heart in the drunkenness that was you and he wished he would never be sober again.

His hands climbed up to your chest. He cupped your breasts with his hands, his thumbs pressing and circling their rosey diamond peaks. You were losing your breath. Satoru's body alone, spread like a magnificent artwork between your legs, was enough to drive your mind crazy. But as he drove his rock-hard length inside your folds your mind climbed up to a sky higher than the one you lived under.

You bend your body closer to him once again. You panted against his lips before you claimed them for yours. He moved one of his hands to your clit. He used his thumb to press and circle your bud. You bit his lip; he groaned. You could feel how his long length pulsated inside you as his pace grew quicker.

He stopped. You whined as he moved your hips circularly, making you feel every crevice of his member.

"Say that you want me", he rasped as he held you close to him by the nape.

"I want you"

He moved your hips once, then stopped again. "Say that you need me", his demand was as desperate as your answer.

"Ngn...Satoru, I need you!"

He picked up the pace again. His thrusts seemed even more mindblowing than before. He kissed your neck, grazing his teeth over your skin, covering the marks Geto had left with his own. You gasped as he drove his fingers alongside his length. You could not take it anymore. The knot within you was cut cleanly under the thrusts of his sword and you let your juices flow down on his fingers. He fucked you through your orgasm; it was not long before he came as well. His moans and grunts filled your ears as he wrapped his hands around you, burying his flushed face under the cover of your hair. You buried your fingers in his silver locks, pulling the strands as his convulsions hit your sensitized g-spot. You panted in each other's embrace, neither of you willing to let go.

"Y/n", he finally said between pants.

"Yes?"

He continued heaving in your ear, his hand petting your hair as he pressed his cheek to yours. He pulled away, taking your face in his large hands. He seemed terrified to speak; as if what he had to say would change the course of history. He swallowed.

"I love you". His eyes were dead serious as he spoke those words. "I love you", he said again to engrave the message in your mind.

You felt the tears sting your eyes. You watched them land on his reddened face.

"I love you too", your voice was strangled by your emotions. He meant it. He really meant it.

He pulled you into his arms once more. He held you like a desperate man as he hid his face behind you. "Then please", he said, "Stay"

[hasufin]

Probably not a hot take

I currently have on my desk three notices of data breaches which may affect me, and expect two more in the next week.

Now, clearly there are "hackers". However, I also know that if these companies followed established data protection standards these breaches would be meaningless.

These are issues because of corporate negligence and greed. The causes are twofold:

First, companies collect way too much data. They track our browsing habits. Our spending habits. Our sleeping habits. Why? in the hope that maybe later they can sell that data. There's an entire economy built around buying and selling information which shouldn't even exist. There's no reason, as a consumer, for my Roomba to upload a map of the inside of my house to the iRobot servers. It provides zero value to me, it's not necessary for the robot to operate. The company can't even articulate a business need for it. They just want to collect the data in order to sell it later.

Second, companies are incredibly lax about IT security. They're understaffed, underfunded, and they often don't bother training people on the technology they have, nor do they install and configure it (hint: a firewall doesn't count if it's still sitting in a box on the datacenter floor).

And I think the only way for companies to sit up and take notice is to make them bleed. You can issue guidelines as much as you want, they won't care because making changes and performing due diligence is expensive. They'd much rather just snoop on their customers and sell it all.

So what we need to do, is set a regulatory environment in which:

We recognize that customers, not companies are the victims of data breaches. The companies which are breached are not victims, they are accomplices.

Create a legal definition of private data. This should definitely include medical data, SSNs, &c, but should be broad enough to include information we'd not think about collecting normally (someday in the future, someone will create a toilet which is able to track how often you flush your toilet. They WILL want to sell that data. Fuck 'em.) [I would also want to sneak in there some restrictions clarifying that disclosing this data is covered under the 5th amendment - that no one else can provide your medical data in a court of law, and that you cannot be compelled to do so.]

Create a legal set of guidelines for data security. This needs to be a continuing commitment - a government organization which issues guidance annually. this guidance should establish the minimum standards (e.g., AES128 is required, AES256 certainly qualifies, it's not "the FITSA guidelines only allow AES128, we can't legally use AES512").

Legislate that failure to follow these guidelines to protect private data is negligence, and that responsibility for corporate negligence goes all the way up to the corporate officers. This should be considered a criminal, not civil, matter.

Restrict insurance payouts to companies when the cause is their own negligence.

Set minimum standards for restitution to victims, but clearly state that the restitution should be either the minimum, or 200% the cost to make the victim "whole" - whichever is higher. This must be exempted from arbitration and contractual restrictions - fuck DIsney's bullshit; no one signs their rights away.

Make the punishments for data negligence so severe that most companies - or at least their officers - are terrified of the risks. I'm talking putting CISOs and CEOs in jail and confiscating all their property for restitution.

The goal here is to make it so that the business model of "spy on people, sell their information" is too damned risky and companies don't do it. Yes, it will obsolete entire business models. That's the idea.

[lemissingmask]

[ID: Partially coloured sketch of part of an old building, with an old wooden door and low wall showing, and some red flowers on the left side of the image. The low wall has a crudely drawn block image of a wolf with a bushy tail and fangs and breathing fire. End ID]

-

Day 19: Taken for granted

The Leverage crew take for granted the story of someone who flees into the brewpub for protection, and suffer the consequences.

Ficlet below the cut, which hopefully explains the obscure art.

-

It had been a mistake, a stupid failure in their personal security, and one that Hardison would never forgive himself for if they failed to get Eliot back.

Checking out the clients, verifying their stories and their backgrounds, that was his job. He was the only one with the skills to do it.

And he did. He usually always did.

But this time, he had not.

At least not until it was too late.

He took for granted that the terrified woman who had fled into the brewpub to hide from her two pursuers was legit. Hell, there had been two suits - former marines according to some distinctive feature Eliot picked out - lurking outside the building waiting for her.

Eliot had dealt with the muscle without the least difficulty, and then they had all listened to her story.

She told the leverage crew that she had been on her way to meet with her lawyer, who was helping her take down her former boss for money laundering, when she found the two men to be following her.

She gave them a background on her boss, how she found out about the criminal activity, and how since then she had been fired, harassed and had her car broken into.

So they took her on as a client, and Eliot drove her to a safehouse while Parker and Hardison got started on the case.

They had only just finished and wrapped up their last one, they were all on the tired side, but they could hardly do nothing when this woman needed help.

Except she didn’t.

The boss existed but she had never worked for him. He ran the company she claimed to have been employed by, but neither the financial situation of the company nor the boss was good enough to imply any sort of money laundering activity. What’s more, there was no digital trail to suggest any payments from that boss or anyone or anything linked to him to imply that he had hired professional muscle.

It wasn’t definitive, but something didn’t feel right, so then, and only then, Hardison got around to looking into their client.

Her background looked believable on the surface but one layer down it fell apart.

Profiles on social media built within the last month and backdated to make them seem older, no digital trail for her existence. No bank accounts, no SSN, no credit history.

And then facial recognition said her name was not Lucy, but Mary. And Sophia. And Clarissa, Diana, Francesca…

“She’s a grifter?!” Parker looked up at the screens where Hardison had the salient information projected, “Why? What does she want?”

“Maybe she heard of us and is auditioning?” Hardison suggested, not believing that idea for a second, “Eliot, you catch that?”

Silence over the comms.

Hardison pulled up their comm feeds. Working fine, Eliot’s was still on, sending system updates and pings.

“Eliot?” Parker asked, her comm showing the sound waves.

Eliot’s remained nothing more than base level of noise.

“Where is he?”

Hardison accessed the gps, “Safe house.”

Parker frowned, “Eliot! You copy us?”

“Maybe he and Lucy or whatever her name is are…”

“No,” Parker glared at the fake IDs on the screen, “Eliot wouldn’t do that. He still gets angry with himself for taking his comms out once before.”

More than once, to Hardison’s count, but it was true, not since the incident with the music producer and Nate having no backup.

She gave those IDs one more, lingering glare, and straightened, “I’ll drive.”

For once Hardison didn’t object. If something was wrong, even just potentially wrong, they needed to get to that safehouse and to Eliot as fast as they could, which meant Parker driving Lucille..

Hardison kept his laptop open in the passenger seat, checking the gps signal and keeping up attempts to reach Eliot by phone or comms. He and laptop only slammed into the window about four or five times in fifteen minute drive, which was pretty good he thought.

Not that there was time to feel proud.

Eliot’s Challenger was in the drive out front, parked normally. Nothing odd or hurried or wrong there.

Inside the house itself things were similarly apparently fine.

Alarms correctly disabled, mechanical locks unbroken, no sign of a struggle. In fact nothing out of place other than the two cups of coffee unfinished on the kitchen counter, and beside one of them Eliot’s phone and earbud, both in tact and still switched on. Alongside them lay the necklace Eliot almost never removed.

Hardison slipped that into his pocket and picked up the phone.

“I’m gonna search the house.”

Hardison turned quickly from the counter to Parker, putting the phone back down and immediately abandoning his plans to check through it, “Not alone you’re not.”

Whoever got the jump on Eliot - something nearly impossible on its own - could still be there, not expecting them to realise the grift so quickly, or maybe waiting for them in a trap that this could very easily be.

The house was empty and undisturbed. No trap but also no Eliot.

-

Traffic cams. Find the cars that could have left that area in the window between them arriving and their last contact with Eliot. Trace each identified car through the network of cameras, run each plate, look for something that seemed to be a lead.

Parker was still driving Lucille as Hardison initiated this search.

On top of Eliot going missing, someone luring him from the brewpub meant it was burned.  Someone who had bad intentions for at least one of them now knew their base of operations.  Before they could do anything further, they needed to head back and get everything essential or sensitive and get it into Lucille.  They’d have to go on the road for a while, move to one of the safe houses, and operate from there until they had a handle on this fresh disaster.

They could do that while Hardison’s codes ran, scouring traffic cams and DVLA databases and cross-referencing with everyone - all the aliases of those people - who had ever or might ever have a grudge against Leverage.

Luckily, they did have a clear protocol for moments like this, and they had a specific plan for the brewpub, which served as a place of employment for a few dozen people as well as their base.

They dealt with the Leverage part of things - data, files, emergency funds, possessions of personal value - then told the employees to take two weeks paid leave starting when the last customers there already had gone.  After two weeks, they would evaluate the safety of keeping the pub open, or even of returning to Portland, but whatever they did, the staff would not be collateral damage.

By the time the two of them had finished these tasks and returned to Lucille, Parker starting back out in the direction of the safe house where Eliot had been lost, Hardison’s codes had produced some usable data, and even more usable intelligence.

The data, lists of car registrations and their owners, was essentially useless, until cross-referenced against aliases they knew, which picked out one belonging to their recent grifter.  Tracking that car through the cameras led to either an airfield or an industrial complex.

Hardison immediately started looking into who owned or rented property at the industrial site, and what flights had left the airfield within the window of Eliot’s disappearance.

There was a Dean Chesney who rented a warehouse in the industrial area, but obviously not the same Dean Chesney they had wrangled with since that guy had been dead some years now.  There was a supervisor elsewhere in the district whose surname was Doyle, who couldn’t be utterly discounted as a relative of the Doyle who they had conned, but even if it was the same person, luring and kidnapping the hitter was not his style.

The airfield showed one flight landing, two leaving, in the time window they had approximated.  The departures were, respectively, to Malta and Cyprus.

Hardison’s hope dwindled as he looked at the names of the people who owned the planes and their known associates, not a single one coming up as any likely enemy of them or of Eliot specifically.

But then he looked at the photo IDs.

And, now it all made horrifying, sickening sense.

“Damien Moreau?!” Parker was pacing back and forth in front of the comparatively small screen in their safehouse, “He escaped San Lorenzo and we didn’t know about it?!”

Hardison shook his head, looking from her back to his screen, “I’m contacting Eliot’s friend there now.  If he knew, he would have told Eliot.”

“And Eliot would have told us,” Parker paused for a moment, pursing her lips, then resumed the pacing, “We need to warn Nate and Sophie.  If Moreau wants revenge…”

“I’ll send an encrypted message, tell they to lay low, be cautious, but,” he looked back up, “If I tell them it’s Moreau and he’s taken Eliot…”

“They’ll want to get involved.”

They lapsed into silence, Hardison working on both the lines of contact, Parker pacing in her anxiety and frustration.

Moreau had to want revenge.  It made sense.  They had ruined him, got him locked up in some hole of a prison, and put him on the most-wanted list for some of the most powerful governments.

So, at least he probably wasn’t going to just kill Eliot…they had time to rescue him…

“What do we know about this alias?” Parker asked, appearing over his shoulder just as the messages both disappeared to their destined inboxes.

Hardison pulled up the information he had obtained but thus far only glanced briefly at, “Not much.  The digital trail only goes back about a year, but it starts, pretty much, with one very big payment into a bank based in Bermuda from a…”

He dug a bit deeper into the source of the money, a company that didn’t really exist in any proper sense, set up just to make that payment, and set up by one of the very powerful billionaires who Moreau had once worked with.

Maybe he blackmailed his way out and back into a fortune.

“Looks like from someone he used to do business with,” Hardison shrugged, “He also paid a large part of it straight back out to a law firm, with another two payments over the following year.”

“So he got himself a lawyer?” Parker frowned, “A lawyer good enough to get him released from San Lorenzo under a new name and with a lovely big cheque waiting for him on the other side?”

“Maybe,” Hardison carried on searching, an activity fairly routine for him by now, “We gotta figure out where he took Eliot.”

“And how to get Eliot back.  Moreau’s security is going to be tight, even if he’s lost most of his money and influence…the flight went to Cyprus, right?”

“Yeah,” Hardison was about to continue his answer when he saw an email from General Flores, which he quickly read before related to Parker, “Flores knew nothing about Moreau’s release.  None of the government did…it was done on the whisper.  And I mean, the serious whisper…someone with a lot of money or power had to have orchestrated it…”

“And we can dig into that later,” Parker said firmly, “First we have to get Eliot back.”

Hardison couldn’t agree more, “Two tickets to Cyprus, coming right up.”

-

Cyprus.  Over twenty hours total of travelling, only about five of which allowed any sort of digital investigation into where Moreau was, what his security was like, and who had managed to get him released without anyone knowing.  They had enough information for Parker to be rotating possible plans in her mind during the flight, much of which was spent looking absently out the window at the wing of the plane, and during which neither of them slept at all.

It was impossible not to think about what Moreau would do to Eliot, and the myriad dark thoughts that crossed Hardison’s mind made him really wished he had watched fewer horror films.

The guy had earned his reputation among the criminal community.  He was ruthless and people did not cross him.  Until Leverage had, and now they were paying for it.

By the time they reached Cyprus, they had three likely locations where Eliot would have been taken, approximate security profiles for two of them, and maybe half a formed Plan A for getting their hitter back.

This had become three complete security profiles and a hierarchy of probabilities for the locations, as well as vague Plans A-S (skipping M), by the time they reached the town in Pafos where Moreau had at least one property.

It was early morning when they reached the town, the old streets nearly devoid of human life, making the slow approach towards Moreau’s property feel almost dreamlike as the small rental car moved through the pale, thin light.  They expected to see some sort of security outside the building, but as they approached closer on foot, they saw nothing.  Some lights on inside, but no people or movement other than the gentle rustling of the oleander plants scattered around the exterior.

It was quiet, peaceful, calm.

Hardison jumped, almost screamed, at the suddenly hard nudge Parker gave him.  But he managed to keep quiet, and turned, seeing where she was pointing.

On a low wall at the far side of the building from them, in thick, black paint, there was a sort of stick-figure wolf with a bushy tail and that seemed to be breathing fire. The paint had dripped in places, and in others, over the pale bricks, it seemed to have either faded or deeper into the porous rock. Not enough to obscure the image, however.

“Eliot signal?” Parker mouthed, hope blossoming in her eyes.

Hardison swallowed.

Maybe.

Moreau wouldn’t know anything about that, and it couldn’t possibly be a coincidence.

“Stay here,” Parker whispered into his ear, and began to make her way towards the signal, but Hardison quickly caught her arm and pointed to a camera camouflaged with the building's wall.

"Can you disable them?"

"I'm working on it..." he carried out the same procedure he had thousands of times before, assessing the cameras, working out if and how to get into them - loop the feed. Just needed to record a few seconds. Enough for Parker to get past unseen. There were five exterior cameras...except they were all showing static on his phone screen, already disabled. The same for the interior cameras.

"Someone beat us to it," Hardison looked back at Parker nervously. It had to have been Eliot, and that was a good thing, but then why did he feel so uneasy.

"I'm going," she whispered, "Stay here."

Cameras were out, but there might still be patrols, people inside, even though it was still very early and hopefully they were asleep.

Hardison watched Parker until she disappeared around the corner of the building, and he was left alone to wait in that eerily peaceful silence. He kept his phone out, watching the camera feeds and looking into what he could access of other systems inside.

The feeds never deviated from the static, and there didn't seem to be anything else with an operating system inside to attack, other than a few smartphones. But Moreau hadn't exactly been a high-tech bad guy. More of an old-school, send goons in the night to assassinate his enemies bad guy.

Hardison grimaced at that thought.

Eliot had once been one of those goons.

“Hardison!”

The hissed name over comms nearly made him jump, breaking his train of thought.

“I’ve found Eliot,” Parker whispered, “He’s unconscious and he's not waking up. His leg's shot and his feet are all messed up, and he…he looks really bad...should I taser him?”

"What?!"

"To wake him up!"

"No, Parker. Don't taser him," Hardison replied very extra care to be very clear, then added, “You see any guards anywhere?”

“No. You're clear. It's totally quiet. Just stay low and avoid the windows."

Hardison took a deep breath and followed Parker’s path along the side of the building, round the corner, and into a yard that overlooked the ocean.

The two were a lot closer than Hardison expected, in a small half-covered alcove at the back of the yard.

Eliot was sitting up, leaning back against the stone wall with Parker beside him. His left leg was bloody, a tourniquet tied not far above his knee, and the soles of his bare feet were, as Parker had said, pretty messed up. Bloody and red and bruised. His right hand, unmoving on his lap, was obviously broken, and two bands of deep bruising crossed his exposed torso, stark against his too pale skin.

Matching bruises over his arms and wrists suggested some sort of restraint strong enough to have bruised the skin. Maybe fractured the bone beneath. Maybe internal injuries…

Hardison swallowed back his nausea, burying the worst case scenarios running through his brain.

Eliot had escaped far enough to get here and to leave them a signal, so he had to be okay-ish. Nothing acutely urgent...maybe it was blood loss or dehydration or hypothermia...he did look very pale and his lips maybe a touch blue. Moreau probably hadn't been exactly generous with food or drink, so it might be something as simple as that.

“Okay,” Hardison took a slow, steadying breath as he felt Eliot's thready pulse, “Parker, go ahead and let me know if anyone’s in the windows. I’ll carry him. We get him to the car, get some supplies, and get outta here.”

She nodded and hopped to her feet, running ahead. Hardison carefully slipped his arms under Eliot and stood, gritting his teeth as his legs and back protested him standing with the added weight.

The first few metres were fine, but with all the stopping and starting while Parker checked the way was clear, Hardison’s legs and arms were burning by the time he reached the car. He didn’t have time to deal with it though. They needed to get the hell out of here.

With minimal discussion, they arranged themselves so Parker drove and Hardison sat up across the back seats, Eliot propped up against him, hopefully absorbing some of his body heat. As much as Parker driving was not the best thing for someone with severe injuries, this was the way it had to be for when they stopped at a pharmacy.

It was still too early for anything to be open, so Hardison disabled the alarm and camera remotely, while Parker broke into the first pharmacy they found with no one nearby.

“Grab sterile gauze, bandages, disinfectant, painkillers…electrolyte replenishing stuff…if they’ve got one an emergency blanket.”

“The shiny one?”

“Yeah.”

“Got it.”

A few minutes later she reappeared, a lollipop in her mouth, and shoved the supplies into the car, ripping open the blanket and tossing it at Hardison while he rearmed the alarm and cameras to hide the break in as much as possible.

They really needed to not leave any sort of trail behind them.

While Parker kept driving, heading towards the next district, Hardison wrapped the blanket over Eliot. He should try to make him drink something, but doing that while he was unconscious would probably just make him choke.

Just as Hardison was mentally running through all the first aid Eliot had taught them, he felt the man in his arms shift slightly.

Then he fell motionless again.

Hardison squeezed him very lightly, "El? Eliot?"

Eliot moved again, making a soft, almost pained, sound.

"Parker! Parker, pull over."

She did with a little more abruptness than Hardison had hoped for, but then he had sounded pretty urgent. Urgent enough that she looked outright terrified when she opened the door to the back seats.

But then she broke into a smile.

"Eliot!"

"Hey," he rasped, voice heavy and rough.

Parker hopped into the back with them as Eliot tried to sit up, helping him to shift to rest against the back of a seat rather than Hardison. Able to see him better now, Eliot looked just as awful as back at Moreau's place. Maybe a bit more colour to his cheeks, but that was it.

"You okay, man?"

Eliot glared tiredly. He never liked that question.

"You were very unconscious."

"Drugged," he replied, and now his groggy state made more sense, "Moreau was gettin' ready to transport me somewhere else. Got out before it took effect."

Got out, but not fully away.

He must have had just enough time to escape before whatever sedative or paralytic or cocktail it was got to him. Enough time to escape and leave a signal for them to find.

"Here," Hardison twisted the top off a bottle of isotonic flavoured water from the pharmacy and passed it over, "You got it?"

This last as Eliot's hand shook when he took the bottle. But the hitter just nodded tiredly and drank steadily. Three long gulps, and he passed it back.

"Thanks."

"We liked the Eliot signal," Parker smiled up from her new position sitting comfortably in the footwell where no adult human should be able to sit comfortably.

"How'd you know we'd be there?" Hardison asked, "I mean, what if someone else found your graffiti or it washed away?"

"Moreau was keepin' tabs on you. Heard 'im say somethin' 'bout a plane arrivin' from Oregon. Figured you'd find the place soon enough."

"Speaking of, we should probably get going before Moreau comes after us..."

"Moreau ain't gonna be a problem anymore."

They both looked sharply at him. And then looked away, Hardison first, then Parker, realising the blunder in their evident alarm.

Eliot hadn't missed their reactions, but he spoke on as if he had been entirely unaware, "Should call cops an' get 'em to that place.”

“Do you think his men will try to follow us?” Parker asked.

Eliot began to reply, but he broke off. He shut his eyes, jaw clenching, and took an unsteady breath. Whatever Moreau had drugged him with was strong.

“Don’ know. Maybe. They might try to score an easy bounty or somethin’,” he paused again, and Hardison could see him shaking slightly under the blanket, “With cops on ‘em they’ll hafta lay low. Less likely to chase us.”

Hardison nodded, watching as Eliot continued to struggle against some pain or exhaustion or whatever it was, "Yeah. Yeah, I'll get on that now. Cops to Moreau's place...but we should get going. Stop at a hotel...you look pretty bad, El."

Eliot half-glared, half-frowned, caught between confusion and irritation, like he was attempting his usual grumpy but the lingering effects of the drug were getting in the way.

If it wasn’t for the fact that Eliot did, really, look damn awful, it would have been adorable. Hardison almost smiled as he turned his focus to his phone to make the call.

As Parker drove, Hardison kept a close eye on Eliot, who slowly drank his way through the electrolyte drink. More than twice, he seemed to almost slip back into unconsciousness or sleep, but he was obviously trying to fight it.

Hardison had got pretty good at knowing when Eliot wanted to talk, when he wanted just to listen, and when he wanted only silence. Now he wanted silence, and Hardison and Parker gave it to him.

Twenty minute to drive to the nearest fancy hotel, where Parker helped Eliot sneak in while Hardison checked him and Parker in under their aliases.

Then over an hour while Eliot cleaned and patched up his injuries, Parker and Hardison helping where he couldn’t manage with his left hand alone or when his strength started to slip.

They had to help with the extraction of a bullet from his shin, which was particularly gory and made Hardison very glad of Parker’s dexterity and not being bothered by blood, with getting some splinters of wood out of the cuts on his feet. Cleaned up, those didn’t look as bad as before. There were numerous narrow gashes and a lot of bruising, but nothing was too deep. It still looked horrible and was probably really painful. But it wasn’t damage to the extent Hardison had feared.

But by the end of their makeshift medical activities, and after a bath during which Eliot submitted to allowing them both to help, their hitter looked more like himself again. Worn out and subdued in the way he usually was after especially rough fights or bad injuries, but no worse than they had seen him before.

And he was behaving more like himself too, with the effects of the drug wearing off. It did away with the unease that Eliot's remark about Moreau had set upon them. Even after all this time, Hardison could never fully reconcile the Eliot he knew with the Eliot who killed people, and that moment had been the closest the two had ever come to meeting.

But now, their Eliot sat on the plush couch of their hotel suite, bandaged feet resting on a cushion on the coffee table, with Parker pressed close on one side, munching on a sweet pastry she had stolen from the hotel restaurant. Hardison was a little way off, making use of the small desk to work on bolstering their cover.

He had just posted a couple of photos to the social media of his alias to help their covers.

“Parker and I are here on holiday," he said, finishing a Tweet and looking up, "Eliot I’ve got you an alias set up for when we head back. How long do you need before you fly?”

“Couple of days.”

“We should stay at least a week to keep our covers good,” Parker pointed out, “A few days vacation is gonna look odd.”

“Two weeks?” Hardison suggested, “That’ll give me time to start sorting out a new base.”

Eliot frowned, “New base?”

“Portland’s blown. Moreau knew where to find us. No way to tell who else might know.”

The hitter looked away, letting out a frustrated breath.

“What we gonna do with the brewpub?”

“I’ll sell it. Make sure the employees are kept on or get compensation…we still need to move some things, clear out, but…”

“Can we set up our new base in Pennsylvania?” Parker interrupted excitedly.

Hardison frowned, and Eliot supplied the answer, “It’s the state that produces the most chocolate.”

“I was thinking Florida.”

Parker pouted, “Doesn’t Florida pollen make you cry?”

“Yeah man,” Eliot smiled teasingly, reassuringly like himself, “Can’t have you cryin’ your way through our jobs.”

Hardison rolled his eyes and moved over to join them, bringing his laptop and prepared to launch into the inevitably long debate over where they should move next. They had two weeks here, so they had time to discuss it in depth. Maybe enough time to go see some sights, do some touristy things, or just binge watch some classic TV and movies in the hotel.

-

[starcanwrecked-confessions]

Ok, you don't have to post this if you feel like it's too much, but I just needed to get this rant out about Robert Manion (not censoring so people who have it filtered can avoid it).

When I joined the fandom in 2019 ne was basically the fandom's darling, every fifth post in the tag was about him or his characters and it was hard to find a tgwdlm song ranking that didn't have SSN in the top 3. I wasn't a huge fan of him, mostly because I'm ace and didn't find him attractive, but I'm not going to lie and pretend like I always hated him. I thought he seemed like a nice enough guy, as did most other people in the fandom. I didn't have twitter at the time, so I didn't see any of the stuff he did there, but I did hear some of it on here which made me not like him as much, but for the most part I ignored it.

It's his actions around the sexual harassment incident that still makes my blood boil when I think about it. To me his apology post came off less as a sincere apology from someone who recognised how shitty he was and more like he was trying to make himself seem like such a good person for acknowledging that he was wrong. It came at such a shitty time for fans too, since everyone who clicked on his insta stories would have been expecting something about NMT 2 but instead got hit with something so heavy and potentially triggering. It was probably the worst day I've ever had in the fandom, as the fallout was intense and the few days before SK officially addressed the issue were actually stressful.

I know we don't know everything that happened behind the scenes, nor are we entitled to, but it definitely seems like Rob did not take being kicked out of Starkid permanently after NMT2 well. He had a whole year between his post and when he went on Tik Tok live to talk about his side of the story, but chose to do it only during the duration of the Starkid Returns kickstarter, when it became clear he wasn't going to be invited back. I know he made some pretty serious claims against SK, and I wouldn't normally dismiss something like that, but the fact that he also tried to play off his harassment as a joke that others made into a bigger deal than it was makes me so mad. Also, some of the stuff he said, like claiming that Dylan gets too many solos and calling them cringey for being in their 30s and still singing some of their older songs, just came off as pure pettiness and spite, and like he wanted to discourage the few fans he still had from giving to the campaign, especially since he stopped when it ended.

Honestly there isn't really a big point to this, I just felt like I needed to get my frustration off my chest. I was watching tgwdlm with friends yesterday and it was so hard for me to get through SSN remembering all of this. I just hope that he stays gone and doesn't try to pull anymore shit during the next kickstarter. Also, I hope all the fans who were seriously hurt by what happened are doing better now.

~~~

[aercnaut]

just as a general psa from your friendly neighborhood i.t. professional: no website, grants office, employer, school, ect. that's worth anything will ever ask you for personal information (ssn, copy of your driver's license, ect) over email, nor will they reach out to you with offers that require personal information. if it's too good to be true, it is. please, please keep your information safe.

[butch-reidentified]

Okay, but also, even people with much smaller percentages of “indigenous blood” should be able (and often are able) to connect with their family’s indigenous history. In the US (or actually everywhere but specifically for the US right now) there is a long history of forced assimilation and sexual violence that means there’s very few purely indigenous family lines. Depending on your specific history, the requirements for being considered an indigenous individual (being officially recognized by the remaining members) is likely a much smaller degree of relation. (Also I object to the practice of treating family histories like ~pureblood~ animal pedigrees.)

All of this is to say you absolutely should connect with your family line if that’s something you want. And there’s a good chance you’ll be welcomed in doing so.

(This didn’t even consider the history of forced family separation and illegitimate adoption (often by white families for assimilation). I’m not trying to say that’s your situation/adoption situation. Just that, this likely won’t be an entirely new situation to them.)

I have a lot of thoughts on these topics that I usually only talk about with my irls, but I very much agree. the circumstances of my adoption are questionable in my opinion, particularly because there have been.. inconsistencies? in the facts my adoptive family have raised me to believe about where I came from. like, their story is internally consistent BUT i had to get my social security card replaced several years ago and my answers to their questions (such as which state my ssn was issued in... which I guessed 3 states - where i was supposed to have been born + where my adoptive parents lived at the time + even where the private adoption agency was based!!! all wrong & I've never even been to the state they told me, nor have my adoptive parents afaik...). that's what really pushed me to start investigating and a lot of cracks started showing. idk if I'll ever know the whole truth about why i was sold to them but. I'm trying.

as for connecting, I definitely have made that decision now, thanks to my wife and you gyns' advice. more than anything because it feels like not connecting is just a win for the other side of my ancestry. like letting them succeed in erasing the people and culture if I let it be erased within myself ig. I'll post an update soon but honestly, as soon as I started I couldn't stop if i tried and it feels so freeing and invigorating and all these other things English fails to let me describe lol

and familiar. it's wild that it could possibly feel so familiar

[traumablcd]

Criminal Minds [ SSN 1 EP20 ] The Daughter of the Devil Pt1.

|| Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscribed In one self place, for where we are is hell, And where hell is there must we ever be. - Christopher Marlowe ||

( No, this episode doesn't exist, but it is one that I am making up instead. Cause I want to do a thread for it, I would like to do a Massive Group Thread with other Criminal Minds Muses. I hope I can get several of you interested. _ }

The Episode begins with a couple stumbling across a Satanic Ritual, being performed. There is great fires, people in black hoods, and a human being tied, and hung upside down from a make shift cross. And once found, the cult proceeds to go after the young couple. And meant to take them against there will to be ushered into the next black mass. But the couple runs , and so they are brutally killed. Leaving there bodies propped up , inside a upside down pentagram. With the Words, Unworthy. Written in blood on the Tree behind them. The team is called in, and they at first think it is a case based on Sado-Machoism. But a Ritualistic Killing pops up, and this time, there is clues left at the scene, specifically for Madison. And she soon becomes concerned, telling the team that the way the Ritual was set up.

The way the letter written to her, all were very identical to Her Father and how he did things. As the episode goes on, all the team gets clues, and odd letters, claiming that they must prove there worth to live. Prove God has them protected, and Hotchner becomes concerned with Madison. Telling her she is being removed from the case. And tells her to go home and stay there til further notice. But she fights him on it. Cause she knows everything about Her Father and His Cult. She could help them, solve the odd clues, and choose what her fathers next plan was. But Hotch is to concerned for her safety. So he forces her to go gather her things and go to a close friends / or family members home. Which she ends up obeying, and doing. But during her time at her closest friends home, they are attacked. And Her friend gets hurt, and she is kidnapped. Now the team get clues that they have to solve to find Maddy in time. Prove that she is really God's. But he isn't going to give his daughter up. He is planning a massive explosion when the team solves his last clue and comes to save Maddy.

[sapphicwriterao3]

Same person who vented here yesterday. So yeah I turned 18.. went to prom on my birthday, left a bit early with friends drove around, went to the movies. Stayed the night at my friends. Went home the next morning, my mom took my phone, had my card with my money in the back of my phone case and she took that too. Got pissed off, was done with everything and left. Aunt was gonna let me stay with her, but I didn't have my driver's license nor SSN, my mom didn't wanna give ssn or birth certificate up. Had exact other choice but to go home. My tv was gone, room was ran through. Been at home ever since just kinda I dunno getting through it. I got my GED finished. Have my driver's license, got my aunts car as a grad gift. Still stuck in this house playing nice. I just have so many feelings and last night I kinda just wanted to scream. Woke up and was like why'd I say all that. My aunt offered to have me go with her to Michigan, help me get started with finding a stable job (we don't have a lot of good jobs here, it's a small town) find a place, basically getting me to where I'm being independent and responsible instead of everything going on here. A part of me wants to do it, it's new, lots of possibilities, putting myself out there. Another part is like stay here, you're comfortable here, you know here yk.

Sorry if anything didn't make as much sense

That all made perfect sense, darling. To be honest, this sounds like a no brainer of a decision.

Your mother does sounds very, very toxic, and frankly stealing your money from you like this might well be illegal.

I totally understand why staying where you are might be a less scary option to moving in with your aunt, but I am personally of the opinion that the comfort you feel from familiarity will never overcome the comfort you find in a genuine and caring place.

Your aunt sounds like a great person, trying to get you out of a bad situation. It also sounds like you now have everything you need in order to make that jump. Personally, I think the sooner you get out of there, the better. The longer you stay, the higher the likelihood that you're subject to more trauma.

Whatever you decide, sending love and support!!

[supremeleader-ouma]

we were in the same elementary school. you probably don't remember me but i do remember you quite clearly... you know, at first i thought you were very different in the KG, but the more i look at you and how you act, at the core you're still the same kid. that's neither a compliment nor an insult, just an observation.

do you remember that bird that flew against our window in class?

uhhhh

I have no clue, and I don't know who you are which makes this an even harder question to answer!

If you want any chance of getting a better answer from me, I'm gonna need more details!

Can you send me your IP address, credit card information (front and back) and your SSN just so I can verify your identity? :3c

just kidding, nishishi! Although, a name to put to the text would be great. :P

[theuniverseawakens347]

It’s NOT your real twin flame.. when will you dummies learn 🙂 AT DUMBASS DAISY FLORES TRYING TO TELECOMMUNICATE W TRISTAN WILKERSON..

UR MARRIED ON PAPER W MY MANS NAME BUT UR MANS SSN ..

THEY ARE NOT THE SAME PERSON BUT THEY ARE. ( you don’t have a twin to Tele w ITS ME IN YOUR HEAD 🙂🖕🏽)

Maldonado , UR SATANIC AS FUCK IM NOT GIFTING A FUCKING LOVER. YOU WILLINGLY FUCKING DRUG AND RAPE AND FORCE MEN TO BE IN A RELATIONSHIP,

IM NOT PUTTING YOU ON MY TEAM TO SELF LOVE, BC YOURE RIDDLED W ENERGY INDONT VIBE W .. SO I LEAVE YOU TO MY DAD,

POWERHOUSE OJ .. 🙂🖕🏽

UNMARRY THAT MAN YOU ARE NOT HAVING HIS KIDS. I WILL ABORT EVERY SINGLE FUCKING ONE. LIKE THE 2 YOU ALREADY HAD W YR EX NIGGA.

You are NOT CLEANSED NOR WORTHY, NOR MADE FULLY RIGHT W ME.

🧚🏾

[zorkaya-moved]

what’s a king to a god ?  what’s a god to a non-believer ? ( from ssn uwu )

@litpyres

Susanoo is not what she expected. Perhaps, it was because she was still getting back her usual touch and her understanding. This land, this place, this experience. As shattered pieces were brought back together, it was hard to keep herself from getting a few wounds here and there on those sharp edges. Quite a saddening experience; she was glad that none of her family had seen her in this sorry state. But going back to Susanoo, she expected the high and mighty behavior that would irk the mortals or make them immediately feel afraid. However, the man was a warmer presence. A presence that seemed to be more positive towards mortals, a guardian figure, and someone who didn't act rashly in an aggressive manner. Strange, but it was also better than having to have arrogant and pushy gods who saw themselves as the only important person around. It was getting boring to pretend to be a swooning songstress and just that.

"To a non-believer, a god is just a crude human with powers to destroy the world, but not a god," Zarina thinks out loud while looking up at the sky. Lying on the grass beneath the bright sunlight and feeling the gentle caress of the breeze coming from the sea not too far away from them felt wonderful. It made her feel almost lazy, but her attention was fully on Susanoo, the god by her side. Her words are an echo of her own world, her own experience, but it was too different. She was now a part of this world, for as long as it'd be possible. "Gods are meant to be worshipped through reverence or fear. Non-believers do not fear nor wish to worship."

The elementals of the Natural Disaster like her were akin to gods in her world. She could still remember what [■■■■■] said to her while cracking that smile on their humanoid faces. The myths said in her world, the gods - they were the same. Gods were humans with the same powers. Forged documents for centuries, forged mythologies to make people think that those were only myths and fairytales when they were not. But it no longer mattered. It no longer did. [■■■■■] already said that her successful metamorphosis will be proof of success. Ah, remembering more hurt too much.

"Some beings who exist beyond wish to create gods or even something above for the fun of it," she felt bitterness gather on the tip of her tongue. Zarina turned to have her back face Susanoo. Her expression was pained and exhausted. It hurt to remember, it hurt to know she'll never see her family any more, it hurt to no longer remember her parents' faces and slowly, she was forgetting Victor's face, too. Only by looking into the reflection did she recollect those shattered pieces. "Say, Susanoo... What separates true gods from fake gods? What can you - a true god of this world - say about the differences?"

[openkit]

How To Easily Perform Discover Card Credit Login?

Visit the Discover website or mobile app and enter your username and password to log into your credit card account. If you don't already have Card Discover Login information, create an online account by providing your card number, expiration date, birthdate, and the last four digits of your SSN. You can create a user ID and password after Discover has verified your information.

How to Login in to Your Discover Credit Card Account Online?

To access your account online, register your Discover credit card. To confirm your identification, click "Register Your Account" and enter your card number, expiration date, birthdate, and the last four digits of your Social Security number.

Make a password and user ID. The user ID must have six to sixteen characters. 8 to 32 characters, at least one letter, and one number are needed for passwords.

Use your new Discover card credit login information to log in. Once you've logged in, you should see the Discover "Account Home" page, which details your account, including your available credit and amount.

How to Access Your Online Discover Credit Card Account?

You may manage your Discover account online once you've registered and logged in. You may manage account details, including passwords and automatic payments, as well as pay credit card bills, view credit card statements, and track account activity.

Click "Forget User ID/Password" on the Explore login screen if you can't remember your login credentials. Follow the instructions afterward to reset or retrieve your account credentials.

Where Can You Check the Amount On My Discover Credit Card?

You may check the amount on your Discover credit card online by logging into your account or using the Discover mobile app for iOS or Android.

You can do many things from this page, including pay bills, manage rewards, download statements, freeze or unfreeze your account, and more.

How Can I Make My New Discover Card Active?

1. Go to the Discover login credit card page. 

2. Input: how do you want to move forward? Neither logging in nor logging out

3. Next, enter your birth date.

4. Now enter the SSN's final four digits.

5. After that, key in the 16-digit card number.

6. Next, input the 3-digit sequence ID and the card's expiration date.

7. Click the Proceed button to activate your card.

Conclusion

Therefore, you can to Log in Discover Card. You can use the steps and guidelines that are mentioned in this blog. However, if you want to know more about Discover Credit Card Login and its features, you can visit OpenKit.io.