#<- note this is in response to a nightmare

[yoiisa]

bllk characters reacting to you having a nightmare .𖥔 ݁ ˖

w/ NAGI SEISHIRO, BACHIRA MEGURU, AND RIN ITOSHI

Tags: slight angst, hurt/comfort, TW for sleep paralysis in Rin’s and mentions of choking, fluff!

NAGI SEISHIRO ⋆˙⟡

Nagi absolutely hates the cold. Naturally his body tends to run cold though, so he clings to your warmth like his life depends on it, especially in bed. It's not uncommon for you to fall asleep with all 6 feet and 3 inches of him wrapped around you or sometimes completely on top of you. At the beginning of your relationship, it took a lot of sneaking around to be able to free yourself from underneath his weight.

This time though, you couldn't manage to sneak around.

As soon as your eyes crack open, you're immediately suffocated by Nagi's weight. It doesn't ground you though, no. Instead, you can't help but feel the most suffocated you ever have in your entire life. You feel his body pressing down on yours, crushing your heart, your lungs, and your ribs.

Without thinking straight, you practically fling Nagi off of you, desperation giving you insane strength. Nagi startles awake, his heart racing as he quickly looks around, trying to see if there's some danger. He doesn't find anything though, only you sitting upright and clutching your chest. You're gasping and sweaty, and your eyes are leaking tears. They fall onto the blankets, soaking them and darkening the fabric.

"[name]?" he asks, his voice hoarse. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

It's not common for Nagi to get worked up over things, but one thing he absolutely will never mess around with is your health and safety. From the way you're sitting, he genuinely considers having to call an ambulance. You look like you're having a heart attack.

"[name], hey," his hand hovers above your shoulder, terrified to touch you in case that sets you off even more.

Eventually you manage to calm yourself down, your desperate gasps for air slowing to normal, deep breaths. Nagi finally manages to gather enough courage to touch you. He pulls you into his side, his arms wrapping around your shoulders.

“Sei…” you whisper.

“What happened?” he asks quietly, rubbing your arms. He’s never been very good at comforting people, but he’s your boyfriend he needs to at least try here.

“I… I just had a nightmare,” you explain, slumping entirely against him. Nagi holds your weight easily, pulling you tighter against him. “And then, when I woke up, you were on top of me, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

He’s silent before whispering, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you sigh, your body stopping it’s shaking entirely. You look up at him, and smile. “I was just scared.”

Nagi looks down at you, his gaze softening. He rests his chin on top of your head and whispers softly, “I… I’ll keep you safe. Try to get some more sleep.”

You kiss his cheek and cuddle up against him, your head on his chest. He kisses your head, and makes a mental note to find different cuddling positions for the future.

BACHIRA MEGURU ⋆˙⟡

It was the middle of the night when Bachira thought he heard a whimper. It roused him a little bit, and he groaned back in response, not bothering to open his eyes. After all, it could’ve just been your guys’ dog, Sato. The border collie loved sleeping at the edge of your bed after all, so it easily could’ve just been him.

However, the sound came again a few minutes later. Bachira fully woke up, looking over at where Sato normally sits, but no dog was there. He looks around a little bit, trying to find him, only to find Sato standing next to you, watching you:

He yelps and Bachira shushes him. “Hey! Let mommy sleep, come back here.”

But Sato firmly shakes his head. He barks again and Bachira beckons him with his hand. Then the whimper sounds again. Bachira looks down at you, to find you shaky and curled in on yourself. He reaches his hand out and gently shakes your shoulder. When you don’t respond, he flips you onto yourself back and his heart races.

You’re crying in your sleep.

“Hey, hey, baby,” he says, shaking your shoulder a little more roughly. Wake up, c’mon…”

Your chest rises and falls with some difficulty, and the tears still fall down your face. Bachira swears and shakes you. His voice raises in volume and he calls out, “[name]! Baby, wake up, it’s just a bad dream!”

Your eyes fling open a moment later and a tiny gasp escapes your mouth. You pant a little bit, fear still echoing in your body still in overdrive.

“Meguru,” you whisper when your vision comes into focus. You touch your face and blink a little, coming fully into consciousness. “Huh? Was I crying…?”

“I think you were having a nightmare,” he says, sitting back on his legs. He takes your hands and pulls you up into a sitting position, brushing his thumbs over the backs of your hands. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

You shake your head, “I don’t even remember it now,” you admit. “I don’t know why I was so upset.”

“Hmm yeah, I get that,” he smiles and kisses a spot on your cheek where a tear had just been. “Don’t worry, I’m here to keep you safe!”

You smile back at your boyfriend, just as Sato leaps onto the bed. He nuzzles against you and you laugh breathily, petting your dog’s coat.

“I’ll get you some water and then we can go back to sleep, yeah?” Bachira asks.

You nod and Bachira stands to go to the kitchen. By the time he comes back though, you’ve already fallen back asleep, Sato draped over your waist. Bachira chuckles and sets the water on the nightstand, before crawling back under the sheets with you, spooning you and kissing the backs of your shoulders until he falls asleep as well.

ITOSHI RIN ⋆˙⟡

When you wake up, everything’s completely normal, if not dark. The room lights are all off and the ceiling fan whirs above you. Your eyes are open, and you try to move but nothing happens. You try again, having to manually think it. Arms, move.

Nothing happens. Then it appears.

The door to your bedroom is cracked open, something you swore was impossible because you vividly remember shutting it tight before you and Rin went to sleep.

Rin. Where is he? You try to move your head again, but nothing happens. You can’t even blink, and your eyeballs are the only working part of your head. You try to call out to Rin, to do something, to help, but your lips remain glued shut.

Suddenly, something grips your ankle. Then it moves up your shin, the warmth of what feels like a hand creeping up your body. Your knee, your thigh, and then your waist. You’re crying now, and sobs want to burst through your mouth but there’s nothing.

Rin. Please. Help.

The hand presses down on your chest and moves up to your neck. It feels like your choking, and you feel like you can feel the creature’s breath on your neck. Finally, your paralysis breaks. You shoot up in bed with a blood curdling scream.

You clutch at you neck and sob, the sounds finally flying free out of you in a waterfall of horror.

“[name]! [name]!” Rin is up at your side, shouting, grabbing your shoulders. He’s squeezing you and gently shaking you, trying to coax you back to reality. “[name]! Look at me! What happened?! What’s wrong?! Hey!”

He grips your wrist and pries them from your neck. You dry heave a little before gulping down air. Eventually, you fall against Rin, who’s paralyzed in shock. He hesitates, before wrapping his arms around your shoulders, squeezing you.

“Rin,” you brokenly whisper. “I couldn’t move. Something was in here, it got me.”

“Nothing was in here,” he whispers.

“Yes there was it was crawling on the bed!”

“I would’ve felt it, [name]-”

“It was on top of me!”

“[name]!” Rin pulls back, staring you deep in your eyes. “I wouldn’t let something get . . . get on top of you. It was just a sleep paralysis thing, nothing was in here, I promise.”

He cups your cheek and takes deep breaths with you. He rests his forehead against yours and kisses your nose. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

“I’m scared,” you whimper and his heart shatters.

“D-don’t be,” he says, “I’m here. I . . . I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The two of you are silent, before you whisper, “Can you hold onto me, while we sleep?”

Rin nods and lays back down with you safely curled in his arms. He doesn’t know if he believes in demons or spirits or whatnot, but he if there was something in here, he has to keep you safe no matter what. He’ll never let you get hurt or scared like that again.

a/n: rinnie brainrot has been bad lately i love him smmmmm ahhhh

[outofangband]

Elven states of consciousness

Essentially, it is my headcanon that elves have a spectrum of states of consciousness that they can fall into naturally or that can be induced. These states can last anywhere from minutes to hours or even days and have distinct names and beliefs about their purpose which is largely what sets them apart from human consciousness. In humans states like these might appear fleetingly but there is more rarely a distinction made between them apart from wakefulness and sleep

I also had fun extrapolating from elven languages

Note: words are my own invention unless stated otherwise and for real words, extrapolation about deeper meanings are my own unless said otherwise!

Kaima is an early Quenya word meaning to lie quiet. This is a meditative state, contemplative and serene. Certain kinds of prayer fall into this category as does rest without sleeping

yúyal (twilight)

The confused period between sleep and wake both at night and in the morning. Typically the shortest lived of various states. This can also apply to various drug or herb induced states. 

The word for the state of consciousness actually predates the rising of the moon and sun. 

lórë (dream sleep)

What it sounds like. During normal sleep when dreams occur. Sleepwalking or talking is rare but not unheard of. 

cuilórë (daydream)

Differs from typical daytime wistfulness in that is a trance like state with lessened perception, response time, and awareness

Daydreaming in the usual sense is not named in the same way unless it involves a significantly altered state

cuicalama bright awake

Related to daydream, this involves a heightened wakefulness and hyperawareness of sensory information that is, importantly, not overwhelming. Actual processing of such information might be slowed or altered. 

The Summer Solstice Festival in Doriath which I talked about here often involves prolonged states of this

cuiva (awake)

The most common state.

I could go into elven perception and awareness and how that might differ from humans but this is still the state most familiar to us.

morlor (black sleep)

Sleep without dreams where waking is difficult. A heavy, deep sleep. Unconsciousness also falls under this as does coma like states. Generally considered a dangerous state associated with nightmares and captivity

Comparatively, fúme, a real word in early Quenya, meaning deep sleep does not have these negative connotations

Other thoughts (Note: I have more elaboration on this here!)

Different elven peoples have somewhat differing views on these and their purpose and some cultures have other states not considered by the majority. 

The states listed above are related specifically to wakefulness, awareness, dream or sleep but there are more states that involve other kinds of trances, hallucinations, and other alterations in cognition or consciousness. 

Applying pressure to certain points can induce altered states of consciousness when done correctly 

I’ve also talked about this before but these states are heavily abused in Angband, often artificially induced and experimented with 

[mellohirust]

I don't think it's fair to analyze the new ALNST comic without taking into account Mizi's survivor's guilt, the fact she was being objectified and in danger in the presence of that boy, and the fact that ultimately, this is Mizi's view of herself in a world in which she has already lost everything.

The text in blue begins by echoing back to her the words of the boy who has hurt her. It is a manifestation of her guilt, as we will see it spoken by both her vision of Sua and her past self. She has internalized what he has said to her, despite not understanding what she has done wrong (and it should be noted that she hasn't done anything wrong, at least, not in rejecting the boy or lacking romantic interest in the men around her. She is not responsible for their feelings, and given how direct and entitled this boy has behaved towards her, how can you ever expect her to feel anything but uncomfortable? She doesn't even swing back at him, and it would be fair if she had). "Feel like a waste? How cunning, you are," has been used both by the boy and her own guilt regarding Till and the fact she does not return his feelings, something she thinks about as she holds Till, now deceased, in her arms. "What a waste", now that she has failed to save him, and now that he has died still with feelings towards her.

She isn't naive to concepts such as sex or romance, and she is not entirely naive to pain, either. Sua can at least admit to Mizi that she isn't happy spending time with her mother, I doubt she hasn't seen Till banged up and bruised a few times, and she has faced her own experiences with violence and emotional hurt (and she wasn't spared of the "tests" at Anakt more than anyone else was).

I do however still think she was misled about the competition of Alien Stage itself and would not be surprised if she still was never properly taught about death, as Anakt Garden seems to solely teach it through sugarcoated phrases and "brainwashing", according to the art book, as part of the curriculum. It would explain her genuine shock at Sua's demise, the way she goes about her grief, her nightmare sequence in MIZISUA in which Sua idly drifts away without a fight as Mizi bangs on the glass... I do think that was all very real. Mizi is not some cold-hearted monster. She cared about her friends and her lover. Given that she fears her own death as well, particularly in Round 5, I can't see reasons she'd enter Alien Stage had she known what would have awaited her.

That doesn't make Mizi a saint. She is capable of harming others just as anyone else is and capable of mistakes/error. She particularly does so in this very comic, when Sua echoes the boy's words back to her, triggering her and causing her to lash out in a panic. This is something she instantly regrets and seems to blame herself for to this day. It also is not the first time she has hurt others romantically without understanding why. I am particularly reminded of the comic where Sua is upset at her for hanging out with Till, where she once again asks what she's done wrong (though I can't find an ENG translation ATM).

All in all, "playing dumb" seems to refer moreso to how she goes about the feelings of those around her. This comic involves this mystery boy who felt entitled to her, Till, and Sua (though, largely, what she worries Sua would think of her. It is her mind punishing her.) All three of them have now been hurt whether emotionally or physically, and it is what she believes to be her fault somehow. Official art on the YouTube channel also adds Hyuna into the mix, a death she likely feels personally responsible for given that she ran off despite her warnings.

She was not oblivious to their care for her. She knows that Sua loved her, and she loved her so much that she died for her. She knows that Till loved her too, even if for reasons she was bothered by, and she knows that he spent his final moments reaching for her hand. She knows that Hyuna saved her without having to, possibly setting back the mission in the process, and eventually taking the fall soon after Mizi diverged from the plan. She knows it all, and she harbors guilt for having ever meant anything to them. Because it's not like they can help it.

When so many have died around her, devoted themselves to her, all while she still gets to stand unharmed and untouched, how can she feel anything but guilty? How can she not feel that that boy was right? How can she feel as if she has done anything but "play dumb" at the cost of others, even when she never meant to hurt them or for them to be hurt as a consequence of it? How can she feel as if she did not owe them something more?

She cannot help anyone's attraction or draw to her. She has always wanted their friendship and to be on nice terms with others, and she is not in control of their interest in her. But I don't think she knows this, or at least, she cannot accept it as fact. If those around her "can't help" but love her, then who is there left to fault besides herself?

[itzneveroverr]

Following the island- Ralph

Post-island Ralph enters a sort of dissociative state.

Days blend into each other. Every night is spent staring at a ceiling that yields no response to what he's discovered, and when he first comes home to his bedroom- to all his books in his bookshelf- he turns Coral Island face-down, where it's currently moulting in its dust jacket. He hasn't been to school in so long that the picturesque yellow-painted classrooms he grew up in have faded back into the grey expanse of his mind. His hands shake. He still can't look his father in the eye.

He writes feverishly in the hours when the fog fades; a man possessed. Books of scrambled, scrawled thoughts that drip off the page from his head to his desk, and in the morning the guilt washes over his body and he rips it all up, to begin the cycle anew.

His first meal at home is pig. He takes all of two bites before excusing himself from the dinner table.

At night, he stands by the sink and washes his mouth out until his front teeth bleed, and the water isn't clear but rust-brown, and his father's bedroom light remains on through the night as he sobs and heaves over white porcelain. They don't talk about it. What would there be to talk about; him, a naval officer, a man; with a son who is a coward? A little boy playing games?

When Ralph first goes back to school, he goes to a small school; a day-school, one his father never would have sent him to, before. It doesn't matter. He's out of there in less than a week. All it takes is one snide remark from a boy he's never met, pointing at a poor chubby kid who's sitting by himself at lunch, calling him Fatty, and Ralph blinks, and-

He never even knew Piggy's real name.

Never bothered to ask.

His hands shake. He can't breathe. His fists clench by his side as his mouth refuses to respond in speech, and he's dying and he's going to die here-

A nervous attack, is what the doctor calls it. Prescribes a long break by the countryside, maybe some physical exercise for him to work back up to his 'usual self'. Didn't want to go to school, did you? the man smiles at him, eye wrinkles crinkling, when Ralph's father has left the room for a moment. Here, I'll write you a note for the week. But-after this, no more games, you hear? Your father's got a lot on his plate, young man.

Games, a small part of Ralph's head repeats back to him, high and giddy. Fun and games. It's all fun and- silly games. The doctor's truth cuts like a knife. Ralph fought and he ran and he yelled and- I'm not going to play any longer- and he lost the game.

Ralph's hands sometimes shake so hard he drops the pencil he's holding. His hair is shorn short, and yet he still reaches up to swipe it off his eyebrows. The wound across his chest has healed, and it prickles every time he thinks of what happened. Long silences makes him uneasy, have him glancing over his shoulder. Predictably, a week by the countryside does nothing to change this. He doesn't know what he was expecting.

Something has changed, after all; and though he doesn't tell his father, all he can see from the corner of his eyes is Piggy; visualise the way his blood ran into the earth. When he closes his eyes the red leaches into his vision, and when he grits his teeth he can hear the snap of his friend's bones. Back on that island, when everything went wrong, all he used to remember was the way Simon had smiled on their first day; and how they had torn into him when he had smiled in the moonlight, that night.

The fog doesn't fade, but the nightmares begin. Boys he thought were his friends smile so that their teeth are bared, and a snake-thing winds in the trees above him, hissing and snarling at his wide-eyed stare. The wind is cold, and the ocean is colder. It's hell, he thinks, of a sort. Trying to survive on that island was hell.

Now, in his return to society, he's traded one hell for another.

[barbed-snile]

ohhhh…. Bonnie and Odile AND Siffrin angst all-in-one oneshot idea…..oughhhhhhhhh

[somegrumpynerd]

A bunch of doodles inspired by @wickjump saying Cross has an eternal kicked puppy look (and steadily devolving into dadmare because y'know. My Brand)

[darqx]

Upgrading the 'polaroid magnet' idea of 2019 for 2023's Xmas card trades, these ones are made from wood and use actual magnets! Luxurious! |D All the poses are also referenced from actual party photos i've taken of other people, to add to the candid vibe lol.

The dreamcatcher is kind of a gag gift (yes the craft project i reffed here) for some friends. Since they don't have the ability to fight their nightmares i have offered to [try and] do it for them XD

Made from: Wooden craft polaroid (plus some backing MDF pieces), magnet, misc decorating items (glitter, wooden shapes, gel pens, paint etc). The dreamcatcher is just a storebought one with laminated paper mes wired to it

[fuckingwhateverdude]

5.12.25

[lotusflw3r]

A lot of people tend to agree that Mephisto keeps around Amaimon specifically because it pertains to whatever plans he has meticulously crafted. But I think it's worth emphasizing that they do play games together, as demonstrated by small omakes.

And I'm by no means implying that they are buddy, buddy with each other, canon has supported that much, but I do think Mephisto keeps him around at least partially because he's so goddamn lonely.

I truly think Shiro was probably one of the only true friends Mephisto's ever had, at least in the past few decades, which makes me wonder just exactly what his social life looks like to begin with.

Mephisto's a huge attention whore, as demonstrated by his eagerness to be on TV around the time when civilization was beginning to become aware of the existence of demons, so, to a certain extent, he definitely craves social validation.

I can't imagine him being much of a fan of cocktail parties, just because I feel like he'd find himself "above" that sort of thing, in the sense that I feel like he'd find them to be a stupid and superficial human ritual, (mind you he thinks humans are cute, most definitely in a condescending "why do you even care about that sort of thing" way but maybe also as genuine admiration on his part, because he can't have that for himself) but he might indulge them every once in awhile as a means of fulfilling personal social quotas (and social networking as a means of maintaining his status as a socialite) because who else is there to intellectually stimulate him (as if priveleged, psuedo-intellectuals could ever do that pffftt, not like he has much of a choice though.)

He definitely engages people in a superficial way as a means of getting some, and in a way, it works for him, simply because I don't believe Mephisto has it in him to be vulnerable with anybody like that.

This sort of behavior may also give reason to why he's always observing others and their interactions, perhaps as a means of living through others, because he doesn't allow himself to do the same. This could also serve as an explanation for his degenerate ways, because you can't be out here binge playing otome games without some social ineptitude on your part (I'm mostly joking but it's far too fitting tbh.)

So, who else is there to keep him company, except for his little brother, who he can't even really share much of an intellectual connection with because... I mean, it's Amaimon? Amaimon definitely does not care to discuss the endless possibilities of the universe, but he will most definitely indulge Mephisto's litte video games, so long as it doesn't require much effort on his part.

THE POSSIBILITY IS KIND OF SAD TO THINK ABOUT TBH.

[brokenrecord7227]

There’s him too. I spent maybe 10 minutes on this so it looks like ass but I think it fits him so I wanted to at least do something

[zeb-z]

Bad has so many reasons to be cautious, even paranoid, as anyone else on the island. From Federation nonsense to Dapper being kidnapped to the whole purgatory nonsense to whatever fuckass suit of armor “old friend” was setting up cameras in his house. But it compounds on his regular overly aware paranoid self to this state of hyper-paranoia. And as a demon who can and usually will lie, cheat, steal, and use sneaky underhanded tactics, he expects the craziest extent because he thinks of it, realizes it’s possible, and would use it himself. We saw this very obviously in purgatory - when he thought greens desperate last ditch effort to balance the scale was a super planned out tactic to tip the scale, so he did it first, all the hardcore base hunting, the spawn killing, there’s a reason every other tactic he used usually followed a main channel qsmp post with updated rules - all usually things he was surprised no one else thought of. But then this also piles onto the fact that he has to have things go his way, all the time, and that he’s argumentative as all get out, which led to the debate between him and Bagi yknow. Especially because he’s not just doing it for the sake of being right, he doesn’t think he’s paranoid, but that he’s exercising the right amount of caution.

So like. Listen dude. Yeah he’s got reasons to be paranoid. But his thought process around building vaults for separate cookie caches like they locked up the risus pills, only to scrap it because it’s not perfectly impenetrable, is extreme. His character has hardly been a leading example in someone who has reasonable reactions to things. And even when there isn’t his own children’s livelihoods potentially on the line, he has a need for control, and the most control he has is if he keeps the cookies in his inventory at all times. If he makes himself the sole point in which the others can get ones in a case of emergency, then he can control the variables. The problem is he’s unreliable about himself when he’s at his most rational and healthiest, and he’s far worse with the current memory and health issues he’s been mostly unaware of.

I dunno it’s like. There is never going to be a purely impenetrable base. And it’s not just a case of “Bagi just hasn’t lived through __ yet!”. Bad’s own logic about keeping the cookies on him at all times is flawed under his own logic, because Bagi is right - if someone has enough drive to break into separate secured cookie caches purely for the downfall of eggs, they more than certainly have enough drive to find a way to kill Bad and just take them from his inventory, or to just kill the eggs themselves. All it truly does is give Bad a sense of control, and soothe his paranoia.

[19catsncounting]

Wild idea: Alex Jones was one of Azazel's Special Children that he made just for funsies.

Research I didn't actually have to do but did: The Special Children Activation happened between 2006-2007 and Alex was kidnapped by Celia from her family smack-dab in the middle of that. 😃

[bace-jeleren]

Deciding instead to let Chaos Reign

Accidentally wound up on "hear me out cake" tiktok, and I swear, if another one of these bitches puts down an at-most-unconventionally-attractive human man, Lady Dimitrescu or Nick Wilde/Robin Hood I am going to lose my fucking mind.

Saw one where the first person they named was Disney's Aladdin and I tapped out so hard I entered a fugue state and didn't regain full consciousness for like a solid hour.

[marvelstoriesepic]

Your Ghost Knows Me

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Summary: On a mission to dismantle a Hydra base, Bucky’s activation codes are triggered. And what does he do without a kill order?

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: mind control; non-consensual behavior (not sexual but bodily autonomy themes); possessive behavior; gun violence (implied, not graphic); threats of violence; emotional manipulation (unintentional); PTSD; trauma responses; forced proximity; mentions of Bucky’s past; Hydra

Author’s Note: I'll never get tired of a possessive Winter Soldier!! Honestly, I should write about him more often. Anyway, this absolutely iconic request is from my sweet dear!! Thank you so much, and I hope you'll enjoy ♡

2k Drabble Challenge Masterlist | Masterlist

There is always something quiet about Bucky when he looks at you before the mission begins. Quiet in the way thunder is quiet just before the crack. As if he is holding something inside himself too loud for the world.

You always say his name and he would look at you like he’s afraid to blink.

You don’t think you’re supposed to notice the way he hovers at your side. You’re not supposed to feel his shadow, stitched to your steps. But you do. You always do. Because Bucky Barnes does not know how to stay subtle. Not with you. Not when he thinks you might not make it out of this alive.

Your mission is to break into an old Hydra base with heat still humming through the walls and ghosts still hanging from the rafters.

The team drops in like rain. Controlled chaos. Clint on the left flank. Sam from above. Steve on the right flank. Nat somewhere in the dark.

You are light-footed and fast and smart and alive. Bucky stays behind you. Always behind you. Watching your six. He never lets you fall.

And you get the proof of this for the thousandth time when he throws his arm out and grabs your vest to yank you back hard enough to make you gasp. Your heart stutters in your throat. You stumble, twist, spin - and crash into him.

There was a tripwire. You almost walked into it. And Bucky saw. He sees everything.

“You okay?” He breathes, voice low, not quite touching worry but brushing the edges of it.

“Yeah,” you whisper back. “Thanks.”

He nods. Says nothing. Keeps moving.

You press forward into the maze of concrete and metal that is the Hydra base, gun raised, heart playing the drum in your ribs.

Bucky slows.

You glance over at him. “What is it?”

He stares at a rusted door, barely ajar. A soft static pulses from within, like an old radio dying in slow motion. The sound crawls down your spine. Your skin prickles.

“Bucky,” you start, reaching for him. “Let’s move.”

But he’s already walking toward that door with narrowed eyes.

The room is dark. Cold. Frost is on the walls like a memory that won’t let go. A machine in the corner makes low noises. Wires twitch on the floor like veins ripped from a corpse. The air stinks of metal and mildew and something old. Something wrong.

And then it speaks. A voice, thick with static, seeps out of the machine. A voice you don’t understand. Not really. You can’t make out the words, but you know them. You know what they mean.

“Желание. Ржавый.”

You spin around, heart rushing up to your ears, calling his name, but it’s too late.

“Семнадцать. Рассвет.”

Bucky stands frozen.

Stone. Steel. Silence.

His face is slack. That haunted stillness takes over.

He isn’t gone. But he isn’t Bucky anymore.

“Печь.”

His eyes go distant. Flat. His face cracks into something you’ve only seen in nightmares. No fury. No fear. Just absence.

“Доброкачественный.”

“No,” you breathe. Your heart forgets how to beat. “Bucky,” you basically yell at him. Nobody even knew there were still functioning systems here. But they’d been waiting. Planning.

“Девять.”

“Bucky please snap out of this.” You know it’s useless. You don’t know why you say it.

“Возвращение на родину.“

Your hand trembles around the grip of your weapon as you force yourself to jump out of the shock your limbs are locked in. You raise your arm and aim. You pull the trigger. One.

“Один.”

Two.

“Грузовой вагон.”

Three.

Four times.

The machine sparks. Cracks. Screams. A dozen red lights blink and die like stars going out. The voice cuts out, perhaps wanting to give a command, a final breath of Russian strangled by silence. And it slams into the room like a body.

For a heartbeat, for a breath, you think it’s over.

You hope it’s over.

But his name dies on your tongue when you turn back to him.

Bucky doesn’t speak. He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t breathe like a man. He doesn’t look at you - he tracks you, the way a sniper does. As if you’re a piece of intel.

Sam’s voice crackles over the comms. “Hey. We heard something. Everything good over there?”

You can’t answer right away.

Your voice is lost.

Because Bucky Barnes is gone.

And the Winter Soldier is standing in his place.

It takes you a minute to explain your situation and you hear the tremor in Steve’s voice when he tells you they’re on their way.

You try to breathe around the panic growing like thorns in your chest.

You whisper his name, again and again, as if it’s a spell that might pull him back. But the Winter Soldier does not know your voice.

Does not know you.

And when Steve finally rounds the corner, face pale, shield up, Bucky growls.

Low. Subhuman. A warning without words.

“Woah, woah- easy,” Steve says, holding up a hand. He looks at you. “He’s- He’s not gone. We’ll fix this. We can bring him back.”

You don’t know how promising he tries to make this sound.

But Bucky shifts his body, in front of you.

He plants himself between you and everyone else, like a wall, like a weapon.

Like a threat.

No orders. No hesitation. Just instinct.

He scans Steve’s hands. Sam’s gun. Natasha’s eyes.

Every time someone even twitches in your direction, he angles his body tighter around you, metal hand flexing. His breathing is shallow. Sharp.

He has no words. No explanations. He doesn’t seem to need them.

You try to take a step forward, away from his back. He moves with you. You stop. So does he.

“Please,” you whisper. “Bucky. Come back.”

But he doesn’t flinch.

Not for the begging in your voice. Not for the heartbreak in your eyes.

But you know he doesn’t hear you. He only hears the ghosts in his blood. The machine in his brain. The purpose Hydra seared into his bones.

“Alright, this can’t-“ The moment Sam takes a step forward, Bucky moves.

He grabs you. Not roughly, not violently, but fully. As if the air between your bodies has never existed. As if he’s made of magnets and you’re the only thing that ever pulled him north.

His metal arm anchors around your waist, his other hand at your shoulder, your spine, your hip - everywhere, all at once. He places himself between you and the others again and makes sure to keep you there as if you are a holy thing. His breath is ragged. Feral.

“Bucky,” Steve tries. There is something pained in his tone. Also something warning. “Let her go.”

But he doesn’t listen.

Because there is nothing left to listen to.

No more commands. No more codes. No more voice in his ear.

So he seems to have written a new directive into his mind and that is you.

You are the mission now. You are the purpose, the protection, the last thing left when everything else burns.

His hand is wrapped around your wrist so tightly, it makes your breath hitch. But you don’t pull away. You can’t. There is something in his eyes. Something not Bucky but not nothing either.

Not the soldier.

Not the man.

Just this animal of loyalty. Of violence. Of need.

You try.

God, you try.

You speak to him in pieces. In whispers. In words coming from trembling lips and bruised hope.

“Bucky,” you plead.

Soft. Like maybe softness will do it. Like maybe he’ll come back to the sound of your voice wrapped in love instead of command.

But he doesn’t.

And he doesn’t let anyone near you.

Not Steve, who takes one careful step and ends up with a knife lodged in the floor in front of his foot.

Not Sam, who reaches out and gets a warning growl that raises the hairs on your arms.

Not Natasha, who tries to circle behind, quiet as a whisper - and is met with the barrel of Bucky’s gun aimed clean between her eyes.

You frantically call Bucky’s name.

“Hey- easy,” she says, voice low. “Nobody wants to harm your girl, Barnes.”

He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t care.

He tightens his grip on you, fingers locking around your arm like a shackle. You try to find a piece of Bucky still breathing in there.

But all you see is possession.

He steps back into the shadows, pulling you with him, shielding you with his body as if the world is trying to take you and he’s the last wall still standing.

No one sees you now.

Because he won’t let them.

He moves you behind crates. Walls. Corners. Shadows. Always putting something between you and them. Always hiding you. Not out of shame. Not out of fear.

Out of possession.

Out of protection.

Out of a command he gave himself.

You are a mission. A precious object. A singular order sculpted into the ruins of his memory.

You hear Steve’s heavy sigh. His quiet and deep voice. The pain in it. “We need to sedate him.”

The next thing you pick up is the click of a safety releasing.

Bucky’s gun is pointed and ready.

He would kill for you right now.

He would kill them.

All of them.

Within the blink of an eye.

For you.

“No,” you croak out, voice breaking. It feels wrong to call him Bucky. It feels wrong to call him Soldat. “Please don’t! Don’t do this!”

You don’t know if it’s something in your voice or something in your tense stance against his back, but he slowly lowers his gun, slowly turns his head to stare at you.

Empty.

Unreachable.

But somehow not cold.

And then his hand rises. Flesh fingers trace your jaw. So gently it nearly breaks you.

It’s not affection. It’s assessment.

He’s checking. For wounds. For weakness. For threats, you might be hiding beneath your skin.

You breathe as if forgetting how to.

You try to shift. Just a little. Just to look behind him. Just to meet Steve’s eyes, Sam’s, Natasha’s, Clint’s - who finally got his ass here as well.

But Bucky moves. Fast.

A hand around your chin. Tilting your face back toward him.

Eyes narrow. Jaw locks.

You know what it means.

He doesn’t want you to look at them.

He doesn’t want you to speak with them.

He doesn’t want you to think of them.

You are his now.

Because something in his mind burned the world down and left you standing in the wreckage, and he needs something to hold onto. Not just anything. Not just anyone. You.

You try again.

Whispers, again.

“I have to talk to them-”

He shakes his head. Once. Sharp. Final.

“No,” he growls. Not language. Not word. Just a sound scraped from somewhere too deep and too far gone.

You flinch and he feels it.

His grip grows stiff.

Your body goes still.

He doesn’t want to hurt you. But he doesn’t let you go.

You catch the glint of Steve’s shield out of the corner of your eye.

They haven’t moved in minutes.

They’re waiting.

They’re watching.

They don’t want to hurt him either. But they will if they have to.

“Don’t,” you murmur. “Don’t come closer. Don’t- don’t try to talk to me, he- he doesn’t want that.”

You hear Sam lower his weapon, just a hair. “We can’t leave you like this.”

You want to cry. You want to scream. You want to pull Bucky into your arms and shake him until something clicks and he remembers you. Remembers himself.

But the Winter Soldier only seems to be remembering his duty. Violence shaped into protection.

And right now, that protection looks like isolation.

You. Alone. Tucked behind crates and corners and silence and his broad shoulders.

You speak anyway. Because you have to. Because he’s in there somewhere. Because he might not hear the others, but maybe he can still hear you.

“Bucky,” you speak. Swallow. “They’re not the enemy.”

His hand twitches on your arm.

“They’re your friends.”

He tightens his grip.

“They’re my friends.”

He releases another deep and gravelly sound.

His body is tense, electric, fury held in the cage of his bones.

“Please,” you say. You hate the sound of your own voice now. You sound like you are shattering in slow motion. “You don’t have to protect me from them. You don’t- I’m not-”

You breathe out shakily.

Your lip trembles. Your eyes sting.

Because he’s looking at you as if he would kill the whole world to keep you safe. And he doesn’t even remember who you are.

You press your forehead to his chest. His body doesn’t move.

He’s breathing faster now. His pulse thrums under your cheek.

But he lets you stay there.

That has to be something.

Behind Bucky, someone whispers your name. Carefully. Cautiously. As though if they say it wrong you’ll be ripped out of this moment and Bucky will hunt them all down.

You lift your head.

Bucky sees it.

Sees the way your eyes pull toward Sam’s voice.

Sees the way you’re still trying to hold onto them. Still reaching.

He doesn’t like that.

He hates that.

His hand finds the back of your neck. He pulls you into him, hides your face in his chest. Your shoulders lock. His body shields you like a fortress of flesh and metal and confusion. As if your gaze is a window, and he is closing the shutters.

You are not theirs anymore.

And he will not let you be.

[mallory524]

the thunderbolts when you’ve been kidnapped

pictures from pinterest

tags- guilt, fear, angst, kidnapping, guilt, canon level action/violence, injuries, mentions of arguing, implied drugging/beating, mention of Void

notes- This all ended up being way longer than I intended. Oops. I need to keep writing or else I’ll explode. The fixation is strong

Yelena

When you’re with Yelena, she can be so tender and sweet that it’s easy for you to forget the life she’s lived and the things she’s capable of. The day you don’t come home from what should’ve been a 10 minute grocery run, that tender side is gone - and boy is it sorely missed around the tower. When Yelena's upset, she lashes out at anybody who gets too close to her, and it gets ugly pretty quickly. Her words are cruel and vindictive, as if each member of the team is personally responsible for what’s happened to you. She knows the people who took you are doing it to lure in the "new avengers", but it doesn't matter. It's working. She's going to find you, and she's going to march right in there, guns blazing.

You're in bad shape when the team finds you, but you are able to walk out on your own two feet with just a little assistance from Yelena. Pay no mind to what happened to your captors. It's not important.

Yelena can't go "back to normal". You're trying to, but it's clear you're still shaken, and so is she. You keep trying to laugh it off and say that you've survived worse, and she knows you're just trying to change the subject, but she doesn't push it. She's not going to force you to open up if you're not ready. All she can do is make sure you know that she's always there to support you and listen if you ever do decide you want to talk about it. You do know that. As everyone in Yelena's life knows, she might be a bit rough around the edges, but she will always be there for you when it matters most.

Bucky

Bucky tracks you down very fast. He knows these people are doing this to get to him, so he tells the Thunderbolts to stay behind and let him do this himself. Good thing they never do as they're told.

The people who took you thought they had laid the perfect trap for Bucky Barnes, but all they did was set themselves up to be pulverized by the Winter Soldier. When he does find you, you're unconscious and clearly injured. Nothing serious, but it doesn't matter; he feels more guilty than he has in a long, long time. The team covers Bucky as he runs back out to the car with you in his arms, and you're immediately rushed to the hospital. The press is already there, waiting to ask Congressman Barnes all kinds of questions about what happened tonight, but after a few choice words from Yelena and Walker, most of them leave immediately.

Even when things slowly start to go back to normal, Bucky is constantly reminded of what happened. You're sitting around and laughing with the group one night, weeks after, and he notices a bruise on your shoulder that he'd forgot you had. He wakes up in the middle of the night a lot of nights to you tossing and turning and shaking in your sleep. He holds you and repeatedly reminds you that you’re home and that you are safe. He’s reminding himself, too. This is all hell for him. Every nightmare, every scratch, and every bruise is a reminder to him that he couldn't keep you safe. He rescued you and brought you back home, but it's not enough for him. This never should've happened.

Ava

Ava woke up to the sound of alarms and glass breaking. She phased through the walls to your room right away to make sure you were okay, but you were already gone. Nowhere to be found. She’s immediately panic stricken. Who did this? Why would they take you hostage? Where did they take you?

Ava’s desperate. When Ava gets desperate, her sense of right and wrong gets very skewed. You’ve been kidnapped, and that’s wrong. Everything she’s doing in an effort to get you back is right. Or that’s how she sees it, at least. The rest of the team sees this as Ava spiraling out of control. This is a mess. These people who took you do not realize what their "leverage" means to the team, especially to Ava. They do not know what's coming.

Your rescue was not easy, and it definitely wasn't pretty, but everyone's just happy that you're home. Adjusting to business as usual after your rescue is tough, but she's there for you every step of the way. If you don't want to sleep in your room for a little while because it doesn't feel safe anymore, Ava offers you her room. She'll sleep on the ground, she'll sleep next to you, she'll sleep in the other room, whatever you want. She'll demand more security features in your room and around the tower to make you (and herself) feel safe again. If the people in maintenance and security were to question the necessity of doing this, Ava would install these features herself. Nothing like this is going to happen again, and she doesn't even want you to feel like it's a possibility. You're safe now.

John

It all happened so fast. An explosive had gone off during a fight, he’d lost sight of you for a minute, and when the smoke cleared, you were gone. He frantically searched the perimeter, but it didn’t take him long to realize what had happened. Bucky practically had to beg John to get in the car, saying they could figure out their next move back at the Watchtower. John didn't want to stop looking for you, but he knew it was the only choice he really had. Everyone's really worried about you, but John is losing his mind. His brain is plagued with images of you, scared and alone and hurt. He's snapping at the team even more than usual, but they give him a pass just this once. Ava walked by his room one night and she could hear the sound of him softly crying through the door. She never mentioned it, but she went easy on him for a few days.

Down in a dark, cold underground base, you're going in and out of consciousness. Your body aches and your head's spinning, but the moment you register that it's Walker gently taking you into his arms, you smile up at him weakly. He caresses your face, and you can feel that his hands are shaking as they trace every little wound, no matter how small. All of Walker's anger has been replaced with a weary, guilty sadness. All that aggression, replaced with a certain gentleness. He carries you out, and although you don't see much of your surroundings, it's hard to miss what remains of the poor souls who thought they could stop John Walker from breaking in to save you. It's not too shocking, though. You know he would've torn the entire world apart if he had to.

Alexei

Missions and fighting and hero activities in general are usually really fun for Alexei. This is not fun. It's so rare for the team to see him like this. He's downright miserable. Since the moment he lost you, he hasn't slept. He works alongside the team all day long to find you, and when everyone's asleep, he just paces back and forth around his room, which gets more cluttered with garbage and papers and files with each passing day.

When they find you, nothing and no one can stand in his way. He's a real sweetheart, but let's not forget how strong he is or how much damage he can do. Believe me, there's a lot of damage done in the name of your rescue. All of that is worth it for Alexei when he finds you. He gently wipes at the sweat and dirt on your face, a lot of which is dry and caked on after you've been sitting down there for nearly a week.

Alexei is so relieved to have you home, but he thought he'd feel better. There's still something... off. The illusion of total safety has been shattered. He's not able to keep you from ever getting hurt like he thought he was. If you were to try to joke about what had happened to keep spirits up, or spin it to sound like a cool story instead of the worst week of both of your lives, he'd try to go along with it. But everyone notices how his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. He's proud of you and he usually loves hearing you're cool tough stories, but this one is hitting a little too close to home for him to fully enjoy it. Maybe because he was there. Maybe because he almost lost you for real.

Bob

Bob's terrified. The team came back from a mission, but instead of you pulling him into a big hug while the team fills him in on what happened like usual, everyone is frantic and you're gone. He's never felt so helpless in his life. He breaks down the second he's alone in his room. Whenever Yelena tries to talk to him, he insists he needs to be alone, or he doesn't even respond and continues just rocking back and forth on the floor and talking to himself.

When the team tracks you down, they tell Bob to stay behind. He keeps telling himself that they're right and staying behind is the responsible thing to do, but he just can't do that. He has enough control on the Void now to use his powers, right? The team is slightly horrified when Bob shows up out of nowhere, doing everything they told him not to do, but this isn't the time to worry about that. They're definitely not going to try arguing with him right now. He's a bulletproof human shield, more powerful than any of them could ever hope to be, so it's good to have him there to help. He crashes through walls, busts down doors, and disarms everyone in his path without breaking a sweat. Then they find you. Bob rushes to your side and tears apart your restraints with his bare hands, and in a second they turn back into the gentle hands you think of when you think of your Bob. He helps you to your feet and slowly leads you back outside. As tears start to roll down his face, Bob smiles a soft smile at the others, thrilled that you're safe again. They smile back at him, but it's like they're all holding their breath until you're all fully out of there. Void may not have made a formal appearance this time, but they know now what lengths Bob will go to and what risks he'll take to ensure your safety. The man is not helpless, and he sure as hell isn't weak.

[dreammfyre]

the heir's favorite ⋆ jacaerys velaryon

SUMMARY. You are the first daughter of the marriage between your mother Rhaenyra Targaryen and your father Daemon Targaryen. Always the most rebellious and difficult of all, temperamental, impulsive. However, weak before the temptation to possess your older brother, the crown prince Jacaerys Velaryon, a knight par excellence, the opposite of you. But no one in Dragonstone imagined that you shared much more than dragon's blood.

WARNINGS. +18 Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!oc. Targaryen incest (brother and sister). Jacaerys aggressive and dominant. Smut. Based on the second season of House Of the Dragon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE. This was a suggestion left anonymously in the messages, so I invite you to leave yours. Thanks for reading.

The empty room is so quiet that you could feel your thoughts could be heard over the place. The full moon illuminated the dark sky, standing out against the stars that night where everyone are resting in their chambers, but you were unable to lie in your bed, much less fall asleep without having nightmares. The Stone Table is where everyone met daily to discuss strategies for the war that was being unleashed in Westeros, but now that empty place feels strange, so much silence and loneliness. The extinguished embers did not illuminate the tabletop, you touched the stone expecting to burn, however, it was totally cold.

"Who's there?" A familiar voice entered the place. You turned immediately finding prince Jacaerys, your older brother and heir to your mother's throne. "Sister? It's very late."

"I know and you should be resting." You replied walking towards him.

"Yeah. But it's a bit complex lately." He took the liberty of joking, in response you smiled without much encouragement. "May I know what are doing here?"

"Not much. Seems you're not the only one who doesn't get any rest." Lifted your shoulders in a casually mood. "Any news on your rounds?"

Jace shook his head in disappointment, pacing around the table resting his hands on the handle of the sword without taking eyes off you, analyzing your presence carefully, as if silently judging you. You rested your hands on the stone of the table relaxing your body on your arms, but your head couldn't stop scheming hundreds of thoughts and bloody imaginary scenarios regarding the war.

"Cole's army is getting bigger and we don't have a damn clue about anything." Said with a tense jaw. "And about my father..." you sighed deeply without looking your brother in the face "no words from him for days."

"That's not your fault." The prince tried to make you feel better with repeated kind words, but your guilt was growing and the anguish of the approaching war wouldn't leave you alone. "Daemon is not the priority for the moment."

"That idiot should be here, on the island, with his queen and childrens." Visenya whispered angrily. Then you looked up resolute in your decision. "I'll go see him tomorrow."

That didn't sit well for your older brother.

"Don't talk nonsense, Visenya." Jacaerys scoffed. "Can't go to Harrenhal alone, it's too dangerous and we don't know if the way is clear for us.”

"You think I'll arrive by land alongside Daemon's imaginary army?" You sneered in the same condescending voice, a brazen gesture that made Jacaerys' blood boil. "I will ride Vermithor's back at dawn and arrive before the sun peaks. I will return the same day with news before the queen."

"That's a lousy idea!" Your brother exclaimed angrily. Grabbing your arm with brute force, forcing to look him. "How can you even just think of traveling alone to lands we don't know if they are enemies or allies?"

"We need to move fast before they come for us, brother." You squirmed under his grip feeling his fingers bury into your pale skin. "Do you intend to wait for my father to return?" You managed to break free from his grip with difficulty, Jacaerys ran a hand through his wavy hair desperate not to talk sense into his sister. "Because you may take a seat, I will not be accompanying you."

"Damn it, Visenya. Please understand the magnitude of your stupidity." He begged, chasing from side to side. Your brother knew how impulsive you are, and how hard it’s to get an idea out of your head, no matter if it was good or bad and in this case it was a rather dangerous one. "What happens if you cross paths with Vhagar in the skies?" The prince raised his voice to you demanding and imperative trying to intimidate, anyone passing nearby could overhear the discussion. Turned your back to him, you didn't want to look in the face out of embarrassment because deep down you knew his words were true. "You have any business there!"

"I have no business here either!" Exclaimed with same intensity. You were temperamental by nature and now are blowing off steam. "I'm tired of staying cooped up on the island, waiting for others to figure things out! I'm a dragon rider constrained by these walls."

Your brother understood that feeling better than anyone, he grabbed you by both cheeks, covering your face with his firm hands.

"I know how you feel, Visenya. Believe me, but walking out at the first impulse is not the solution, okay?" You put your hands over his, looking at him intently. Really want to nod for answer him, but were mesmerized in his nearness and his breath hitting your face. "Stay here, with us." He watched carefully without letting go, losing himself in the sense of his pleas to look very closely, you were so beautiful in any light no matter how dim, a Targaryen through and through with bright, intense violet eyes of long white hair like your parents. Jacaerys couldn't help but stare at you, the half-open lips tempting to taste you, trying not to lose what little composure he had left. "With me."

Visenya possessed the ethereal beauty of her mother and the complex character of her father, Daemon Targaryen. Under your little ethics and impulsiveness did not think if it was a coherent idea and you threw yourself to kiss the thick lips of your brother who reciprocated instantly, none of them reasoned, they only moved to the rhythm of the kiss where their moist lips brushed anxiously. Your brother's hand on your waist took you by surprise, more so when he pressed you against his body bumping you against his chest and cornering you against the table.

"Go to sleep, sister." Jace scolded making an attempt to stop kissing you, but you kept reaching for him. "This isn't a good place."

With a little smile you ignored knowing the only way to stop the situation was for you to go to your quarters and you didn't feel like leaving. You grabbed Jace’s hair tangling your fingers in the chestnut curls, Jacaerys strength intimidated, but it wasn't enough for hold you.

"Don't go to Harrenhal." He pleaded leaving wet kisses on your neck, tracing a wet path over your skin taking the opportunity to inhaling your sweet scent. "Do it and I promise warm your bed every night."

Felt a shiver run down your back at his offering, Jacaerys kept leaving kisses until he reached your collarbones uncovered by the neckline of your dress. His lips made your heart beat faster, grabbed him by the face stopping him.

"Would you do that for me?" Asked with dangerous innocence, watching his glossy swollen lips.

"Really doubt it?" he answered against your ear, then brushed his nose against yours slowly, you left a short kiss on his lips almost by instinct, so tender and unexpected that you heard a laugh come out of the prince.

"Maybe." You whispered touching his chest, playing with the textures of the fabrics, his agitated breathing gave him away, having you so fucking close is a personal challenge. It was a lie, you weren't going to think about it, you just wanted to give him what he needed to hear to stay with you.

Jacaerys' big hands began to take hold of your body squeezing you tightly making you gasp, then you lifted your chin giving him access to the neck, kisses there unsettled you in a special way and only your brother knew it, listening closely to his breathing and feeling the warmth of his breath was much better. Everything about him you liked, and you were missing him all nights. The pressure and uncertainty of the war had taken your head elsewhere, you had abandoned each other for valid reasons, but at that second just wanted to give yourself to Jacaerys one more time.

You stood on your tiptoes to gain a little more height reaching for his ear, your brother tensed at the delicate touch of your hot tongue against his lobe, licked delicately knowing that it turned him on, he confessed it to you one night and you never forgot it. A deep moan of satisfaction came from his throat, then carefully, you lowered one of your hands straight down to his pants, positioning yourself over his hard member that was pressing against the fabric.

"This is not the best moment." Begged the prince resting his forehead on your shoulder. "We are in a sacred place, you know?"

You cared little for his insistence or decency when only wanted to shout his name, though you knew Jacaerys was asking you to stop for the sake of not failing in duty, not because the desire wasn't there. No one understood the reason why Rhaenyra did not cancel the stupid engagement between lady Baela and the right Jacaerys, no one could deny that they could become blameless kings for the history of Westeros, but there would never be the tension and burning desire throbbing as when the fire was unleashed between you. That first time with a taste of sin, you begging him not to stop, that it was going to become a one-time secret that his parents would never find out, a secret they couldn't help but repeat between your sheets and his, in the hallways and the library.

Desperate for more your brother lifted the skirt of your dress with your help by grabbing your leg and pulling it up to his waist. The mere contact made you moan from the pleasure, clamped your mouth shut to keep from making noise, you were too sensitive and needy and Jacaerys liked to have you under his control. You were always sarcastic, upset and nasty, just like your dragon, but Jacaerys Velaryon knew how to control you.

"What are you going to do if someone finds us?" You asked with bated breath. Deep down it was important to keep the secret guarded to keep it. Jacaerys' fingers stroking between your legs making moan, clinging to the heir's neck and leaning against the table. "What are they going to say when they find out the crown prince fucking his sister."

His fingers slowly moved up and down, playing with your slimy wetness in his fingers. The mischievous grin on the chestnut's face only reflected the satisfaction of having managed to have you like this, so submissive.

"Does it scare you?" he whispered against your moaning lips. With his other hand he gripped the back of your neck tightly, so you wouldn't move. "They're going to find out you're my spoiled sister." Two of his long fingers began to search for the perfect place to insert themselves into you. You stirred under his grip settling in for him, your desperate breathing needing him to finish his work, but he seemed very calm provoking you with his words. "Do you know what they'll call you?" he bit your lip, pulling it towards him. "The heir's whore." His fingers slipped inside you so easily, sliding into your wet insides gushing moans from your chest as you felt him move in and out of you. Jacaerys took your leg his free hand clutching his fingers to your thigh preventing you from closing before him.

At the first loud moan you covered your mouth immediately knowing you were attracting attention, the sensation between your legs was stronger. You squeezed your brother's shoulder getting used to the movement of his fingers inside you.

"Don't yell." He ordered uncompromisingly. He had to kiss you to shut you up, which served you a few short minutes. You were losing your mind, your legs wanted to close but Jace put his foot down to stop that from happening.

"Jacaerys." His name on your lips excited him more than anything else, for it was the tone of desperation that mirrored your desire. To know that he controlled you and you were under his dominion with how arrogant you were, that no knight owned you, that everyone desired you for being Rhaenyra's spoiled daughter, but you were his, no matter an arranged marriage or duty was enough. "Mmh." You ran your hand over your face, desperate to keep silent fighting against your body that was beginning to tremble as his fingers went faster.

But for an ego like Prince Jacaerys Velaryon's it wasn't enough. Listening to you enjoy yourself on the Stone Table where every day they met to discuss war strategies was the most satisfying image to his eyes and he was not going to be able to forget it. The way you moved, dragon-like, the sweetest and most desperate noises came from you, none of the whores he had been with compared to the delicacy of a pureblood Targaryen. A unique and unrepeatable privilege.

When your breathing became erratic and the murmurs incomprehensible swearing you were going to reach that peak, Jacaerys came to a screeching halt chastising you. You opened your eyes in disappointment and fury, your heart leaping out of your chest and your legs damp and trembling.

"Be a good sister," he stroked your cheek with the gentleness you deserve to be treated with. You were trying to listen to him but you were so upset you just wanted to insult him for doing that to you. "Turn around."

Your hair stood up at his tone of voice demanding and conciliatory at the same time. As obedient as ever, just for him, you turned your back to him as the prince busied himself with pulling down his pants that were pressing against the erection he was trying to contain. Your heart wouldn't stop pounding, you could still feel his long fingers inside you and the wait, however minimal, was becoming eternal and torturous. You looked sideways at the entrances of the place without finding anyone, but the truth is that you didn't care if at that moment the queen arrived and found them like that, the euphoria and adrenaline was taking over your body and your reason, the overflowing desire had taken your actions. You felt Jace's hands sneaking up your skirt, careful where to touch, looking for just the right position to enter. He stood behind you, your dress pulled up over your back, the mere touch made you moan. You were so wet it was slipping from your entrance.

"Don't say anything." He told you and you nodded, you were capable of begging if necessary, though deep down you knew he enjoyed it making you obey. "Tell me if you want me to stop."

You closed your eyes as you felt Jacaerys slowly push behind you. You took a breath and tried to relax, you both moaned slowly, the prince tensed his jaw and clenched his teeth to keep from making noise, he stayed still for a few seconds searching for your hips digging his fingers into your skin trapping you in that position, moving you back and forth to better thrust. The rubbing of his member on your walls felt warm and wet, an invasion of your body, you were so used to his size that the sensation became familiar, literally. Some of the pieces of stone you unintentionally threw away, that was going to be a problem for later, because now the noise of their bodies colliding was beginning to consume you. The control he had over you didn't bother you, he gripped you tightly taking over everything. Her hips moved with yours instinctively in a delicious back and forth.

"Like this." You gasped with closed eyes and a satisfied expression. You reached for his hand under your dress and clung to him as tightly as Jace clung to you.

His length pumped in and out of you at a rapid pace, but this time, Jacaerys made sure each thrust was deep by ramming his pelvis into your buttocks.

"What a pleasure to meet again, don't you think?" his question was punctuated by your same panting without stopping moving. You weren't able to answer, your high-pitched moans were getting louder and louder, putting both of you at risk. On the other hand, he was breathing heavily. You had to cover your mouth with your hand, biting your palm to stifle your own moans of pleasure at having him inside you.

You started to stir but you were trapped in his hands, he knew you well enough to know what to do, you turned to look at him finding the heir ramming you with force and speed, his hair fell in curls that moved to the rhythm of his rhythm, when their gazes met for a second he stared at you, your face sweating, your eyes bright with a frown of supplication and red cheeks were enough to have no mercy. Your entrance was tightening at the same time you couldn't breathe, that feeling of a wave invading your insides begging for more desperate to reach orgasm. Jacaerys took your with one hand your waist and with the other your hip, encasing his fingers preventing you from escaping, you were in this together and you had to finish it.

You moved your arm and disarranged the pieces on the board. Now you could hear your brother moaning, cursing you for being his undoing and the greatest of his sins, making you his own feeling the power to mark you and deflower you breaking any tradition that governs the Targaryen nobility. It felt so good that you could confess your love to him just so he wouldn't stop. Luckily for both of you, he didn't stop, the rapid movements and the pressure forming in your lower stomach was getting out of control, the noise intensifying from the collision of your bodies and your knees seemed to lose any kind of strength to hold you up, luckily the table was there to support your body, plus your brother who wasn't going to let you fall. Until you couldn't manage to resist anymore, your orgasm came first like a shiver throughout your body, you closed your eyes tightly and watching you exclaim his name in screams of pleasure ended the infinite torture of the heir that took a few seconds to wait.

"Shit." Your voice hopefully came out of your dry mouth. You had your chest against the weight crushing your breasts, one of your hands intertwined with your brother's who was rebounding behind you.

You both took a second to take a breath and assimilate what you had just done, you had promised not to fall into carnal sin again and that's why the last time was several months ago. You leaned on the table with both hands coming back into yourself with your chest heaving, your brother's hands were still in the same place but he was no longer squeezing you with the same possessive intensity. Your hair was falling on both sides, tousled from the movement and your legs were begging you for a rest.

Jacaerys caught his breath, but his heart had not calmed down at all. His body was still experiencing those chills and that unique tension, he took a step backwards out of your body to get dressed. You immediately felt the fluid trickle down the inside of your thighs, dripping slowly down your hot skin.

"Are you okay?" Jace asked pulling up his pants, his movements a little uncontrolled as the adrenaline was still pumping. You nodded fixing your wrinkled dress. It wasn't the first time it had happened, you both knew what it was, that meant you would have to have tea the next morning.

"Looks like I'll be staying."

Your older brother smiled, fixed his hair pulling it back and moving closer to kiss you again, this time slower and softer, trapping your lips with his so slowly that you relaxed. You took his face kissing him again, his scent, his warmth, his bearing that forced you to lift your chin to reach your mouth, the softness of his lips, it was the most comforting sensation you knew.

"Go rest." He whispered without opening his eyes. Tidying your hair behind your ear.

"Okay." You replied in the same tone, so obedient and submissive before him, kissing for the last time his mouth following your movement. "Good night"

Leaving him was complicated, but you were satisfied with the encounter. As you walked you felt the burning between your legs, a reminder that was to last a couple of days that he had made you his once more, that was the greatest secret they kept hidden, they had forgotten for a moment the war between families, the political problems, duty and order.

Jacaerys Velaryon watched you go, silently picking up the sword he had dropped to the ground. That simple symbol that he was capable of abandoning his duty as prince for you, he staked his honor and his word for taking you. He stayed a while longer tidying up the mess they had created, arranging the pieces of stone in the place that corresponded according to the figure, picking up from the floor some that fell without realizing it. It was he who always assumed the role of responsibility for cleaning up the mess and pretending nothing had happened. How was he going to show up tomorrow at this very spot knowing he had relations with Visenya, the spoiled and arrogant princess, right there?

He only hoped Daemon Targaryen would never discover that his daughter was the heir's favorite if he wished to one day ascend the throne.

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