#sean bean x reader

[streets-in-paradise]

A Man of Honor -Odysseus x Trojan Princess!Reader Part 2

Troy (2004) Oneshot

Requested by @alysinwonderland-at-tea

Warnings: war captive x enemy king, age gap ( incluiding a young girl attempting to seduce a man significantly older than her).

Summary: The greek enemies of Agamemnon gather arround the task of protecting you. While your original captors show you their most friendly side, Odysseus has to admit he had grown too close with you.

Struggling with the contradictions between his needs of king and man, the time comes for him to take a definitve choice.

Note: I couldn't finish the story completely in this one, so it's most likely I will release a third part that will serve as end for it.

Tags: @yerevasunclair @daintyhippie

After being submitted to the worst of the greeks, you found a chance to discover there were still good people among them to be discovered in the most unexpected of places. Your presence, although welcomed, brought Odysseus a problem of practical order.

During most of the day, he had to be away to lead his army. With him would go his most trusted men, possibly leaving you to an uncertain fate. He didn't want to keep you tied to a headpost of his tent like a slave, but allowing you to roam free through the camp was a risk for your safety if no one of his trust could be watching over you. By any means necesary, he had to prevent another brutal attack to happen while he would be too far to help you.

As precaution, he started sending you to the tents of the myrmidons. Not like their prize, but as a favor that their leader was doing to his friend on his time of inaction on the war. Odysseus trusted Achilles and, despite knowing you hated him, he begged you to behave for your own good.

So you did, only because he said it and you trusted his word. It could have been a recipe for disaster, but you ended greatly surprised. The man who received you didn't act at all like the arrogant brute you once meet. Alongside him, there was always a young lad you didn't got to meet before. His presence seemed to soften the warrior, who treated him like his little brother.

Patroclus, younger cousin of the myrmidon leader, couldn't trust any of his senses when you told him you were a Princess of Troy. He had never meet a princess before, so his harmless curiosity became a bonding point for you. Spending time with him was quite fun. As he gained your trust, you became less wary of his countrymen thanks to his interventions.

When your defensive attitude stopped being a problem, Achilles finally asked you about the significant spectacle you gave to his soldiers fighting for your freedoom back in the temple. He made you explain yourself as if he knew that his cousin was going to love your answer, yet incapable of predicting the chaos he had unleashed through that interrogation. As you admitted to have been learning from your eldest brother, Patroclus' excitement knew no limits. He practically begged you to duel against him with his teacher as witness.

You, being the only known student of Hector, were his perfect match for a combat training session. His sweet insistence managed to flatter you, since he seemed very convinced to have found in you the best rival available. Finding yourself dragged by his entusiasm, you accepted as if was an autentical challenge. Instants later, Achilles watched you get into it like if you were two children playing with wooden swords.

Most likely, that was the image he had of you.

Back in the moment he saw you entering the tent of Agamemnon, he was grossed by the situation and intended to protect you. The reaction was strange and you didn't got to understand it on time. Getting to know him a bit better showed you that being of a similar age to Patroclus meant he saw you as a little girl and felt inclined to treat you as such.

It could sometimes be a bit frustrating, specially arround Odysseus.

In that oportunity he had came back earlier than expected, when the sun wasn't yet going down. The happy noises of your playfull battle let him know you were having a good time and that was a comfort for his heavy heart carrying the burden of yet another defeat.

" Enough swordplay! " Achilles was instructing, childishly invested. " Come on, Patroclus! The family honor is at risk! "

You raised your arm with the wooden sword in hand, heroic gesture of your charge into battle.

" FOR TROY!! "

By the instant Odysseus got a clear sight of the scene, the clash had turned out in your favor. The lad was on the ground and you had threw yourself over him to proceed the fight weaponless. Mutual laughter on the start of your friendly wrestling, but the fight ended when he stopped moving because you were straddling his lap.

" Turns out you do quite good when the fight is fair, little one. " Odysseus commented, making you aware of his presence. " Now, where are your manners? "

You smiled and quickly raised up to rush on his encounter.

" Don't ruin their fun, Odysseus. " Achilles mocked him, noticing you had tossed your victory aside for the newcomer. " Let them discover their bodies the way I did. "

Patroclus avoided to raise fast just to hide the shame as you did hidding on the embrace of the ithacan king.

" How was the fighting? " You asked him, trying to ignore what had just happened. " Did you saw my brother? How is he? "

He could still see excitement in your eyes and tried to respond accordingly.

" Bleeding out the open wound he inflicted in the heart of Greece ... We ended sooner today because he decided he had enough. Honorable man, he could have just destroyed us all. "

For drastically different reasons, you were one with Achilles in the celebration.

" YES!! " You exclaimed, releasing Odysseus to make a gesture of victory with your arms up, only to later remember he was on the loosing side. " I mean, I'm sorry. "

Achilles raised from the comfortable sitting spot from where he had been watching your fights.

" Don't be, princess. That old drunk is getting what he deserves for attacking our honor. Agamemnon insulted my pride and didn't stop there. If of me depended, I would have marked every single one of the pigs he sent to do his dirty work for him just so it would be easier for Hector to find them. "

Angry allways escalated, slowly and insidiously, everytime he spoke of the mycenaean king.

" Thank you for your insight, my friend. " Odysseus tried to calm him, then gave him a pat on the shoulder. " ... but I could use your arm over your advice. "

Achilles chuckled, then mercielessly teased him.

" I'm having fun looking after the children ... In fact, I haven't finish my lesson. "

He paced arround Patroclus and dragged him up in a playfull way.

" Can you tell me what went wrong? "

The young man incorporated and attempted to perform a serious reply.

" I tried to play her untill she would get too tired, but underestimated her resistance. "

Achilles correctly placed the shoulder coverage of his messy tunic.

" Winning the first one got you too cocky, so you started bragging. She fought to defeat you, but you fought to impress her. We know the princess is pretty, but you have to keep the head cold because my child can't be beated by Hector's. "

The outspoken assumption brought some awakwardness between you that Patroclus attempted to bury inmediately.

" Forgive him, your highness. He is clearly out of his mind. "

You smiled for him and, despite the shyness, that worked as enough encouragement for him to approach you.

" You are a fierce opponent and fighting you has been my honor. "

He extended his hand and you took it for a handshake.

" As is mine, Patroclus. Awareness of your respectfull admiration won't make me misunderstand you like your cousin believes. "

Reassurance made him feel more comfident, so he finished the gesture shyly kissing the dorse of your hand.

Things were calm again, but his cousin won't stop messing with you.

" The grown ups want to have a conversation ... Why don't you go somewhere else and finish what you started? "

" ACHILLES! STOP BEING DISGUSTING!! " Patroclus complained, then returned his attention at you. " Your majesty, I believe you told me once that trojans are famous horse breeders ... Would you like to see the best horses of the greeks? "

The offer was great, but you reconsidered for an instant.

" ... Only if that would be fine for Odysseus. "

The king didn't expected you would care to ask, happy as you were going everywhere with the young man.

" Go ahead, princess. Have fun, I trust the strong arm of Patroclus to defend you in case of need. "

He made you smile and before leaving, you saluted him with one sweet peck on the cheek.

" Don't miss me, I'll be right back! "

Once you dissapeared from their sight, Achilles poured wine for two and invited his friend to sit with him.

" Even since you brought back that girl my cousin has postponed his resentment towards me. I get to keep my good spot to watch Agamemnon's downfall without having to deal with his concience … I don't understand why you choose to keep her, but i appreciate. "

Odysseus smirked and joined him on a silent toast. If he had to be honest, the answer he had to give wasn't as clear as usual.

" I think I didn't mean to, but it happened. " Was all he could admit. " Even my men adore her. Can you believe she made Eurylochus giggle ? I can't imagine the amount of suitors she must have in Troy. "

The myrmidon raised an eyebrow.

" Better you not be thinking on making her your little princess bride, I think Patroclus has a crush on her. "

Odysseus felt annoyed of being exposed to the obvious.

" You call that a crush? He practically worships the ground she stands … And I don't blame him. Sometimes she makes me wish I could be a lad again with her sweet ways towards me. "

Achilles took one more sip of his drink before frankly presenting him his opinion.

" A troop was making line to get their turns with her, it's normal she will feel a bit impressed after you saved her from that. She may insist that she is woman, but to me she is still a kid. And I can tell she respects me only because I am your friend, she is so thankfull of you that is almost like a devotion. "

He made a brief pause, unsure of his words, ríght before his conclussion.

" … If she was just a couple of years older, I wouldn't mind her retributions. "

Odysseus laughed with him, not wishing to unveil the undertones of that claim.

" Are you coming to the council tonight? " He abruptly changed the topic. " The fate of the war is uncertain, Hector's push could end up reaching the camp and some claim he threatens with burning down the ships. "

Achilles looked at the sea as if he searched for divine inspiration.

" I'll calm my wrath the day you release her. Do you think my absence from the battlefield is the only encouragement of Hector? The man I once meet in the ruins of that temple was a warrior of duty protecting his country, but we turned him into an angry brother in search for his taken sister. "

The unflatering comparison turned the king a bit defensive.

" So you won't do nothing because you simpatize with his reasons. "

Achilles carelessly threw the rest of his wine on the sand, gesture of self restrain against a criticism he judged hipocrite.

" You are as selfish as me, just can't admit it because you are a king. "

In very sporadical ocassions, the myrmidon warlord was capable of showing true wisdown through his brutal honesty.

On his role of King, Odysseus pretended to be a ruler granting you a kind of protection that wasn't supposed to be different from what Priam did for Helen. As a man, he allowed himself to enjoy the comfort of his blooming flower in a sort of way that was drastically different from them. Never considering to do any advances, he still liked the care perhaps too íntimate of your attentions. Your intempestive hugs, the moments you would spend in confident talks away from everybody, your sweet glances in public and those lovely welcomes from the battle.

The fire in your eyes became for him like the warm flame of home. Calid, but not threatening to consume the surroundings anymore. Ironically, the threat of fire was coming from a fairly concerned Hector seeking for justice.

Keeping you for himself was selfish, no different from what Paris did or perhaps even worse. Helen had a chance of choosing to leave willingly, but you never asked to be taken away from your family.

It was going to be a matter of time untill Agamemnon would use that argument against him on the war council. The deliberation space have become the center of increasing tensions because his act of saving the captive was taken as an insolence that started to affect his credibility.

" Hector wants the girl back and his demmand is currently stronger than ours. " Nestor was pointing out for both. " After the death of her ríghtfull husband, Helen belongs to Paris already, but the daughter of Priam still belongs to her father's home. "

He looked suspiciously at Agamemnon, aware of his ways.

" I haven't touch her! " The mycenaean king defended himself, comedically showing off his hands to emphasize his innocence. " I can't assure the same about Odysseus, he has probably charmed his way into her little hole already. "

His despicable accusations were away from any tolerance measuring. Used as he was to put up with him, Odysseus simply couldn't stand it.

" You gave her away to the soldiers like a common whore, YOU COULD HAVE DOOMED US ALL!!! "

He cleared his throat, self calming his wrath, before proceeding.

" In my tent she has remained untouched, I keep her under strict surveilance and have warned all my men. She ocassionally fools arround with the cousin of Achilles, but that lad won't lay a finger on her. He keeps distance and treats her like the unattainable royal she should be for him. If I would be asked to do it, I would swear that she remains virgin. "

Agamemnon chuckled loudly and disgustingly, but Nestor stopped him with a reprehensive look.

" That solves it all: under our own laws, she still belongs to her home in Troy if no man has claimed her his. "

" Odysseus will not return her: he wanted her from the moment that he saw her. " Agamemnon interrupted, provoking him in an accusatory tone. " He waited for his proper moment to steal her, he won't mind to get us all killed to keep her. "

The Ithacan king raised from his seat.

" You don't know what you are talking about. "

The mycenaean smirked with satisfaction.

" Prove it, prove that you are still loyal to me. Take that girl back to Troy by yourself, and once you are there, offer a sacrifice to Apollo for the crimes of the temple. That should be enough to calm the animosity of Hector. "

For as much as he hated it, Odysseus understood he spoke on point. It was clear that he intended to punish him, but in practical terms that worked as wise advice.

He had to prove all the commanders he was still thinking as a king and not as a man.

" If that's the will of the council, I'm gladly accepting the mission … Protecting Greece remains my priority, and I do can leave my pride aside. "

The walk back to his tents was the longest ever wondering how would you react to the news. He knew that going back to your family would make you happy, but he couldn't help dreaming you would show even a tiny bit of sadness about leaving him. At his arrival he found out you have fallen asleep waiting for him and doubted about waking you up to talk. He needed some time to think, so he just laid beside you. Distant enough to not touch you, facing up so he won't be looking at you.

He had to get used, he needed to be ready.

Ríght after he managed to fall asleep, something other than his thoughts woke him up.

Like some sort of divine vision, he opened his eyes to find your sweet face. Your eyes focused on him with a singular curiosity and the sound of your giggling as you noticed he was waking up made him wary. Clarity of mind made him realize that the reason for your mischievous demeanour was the weigth of your body being pushed against his.

You were straddling his lap, in the exact same position you have discovered while fighting Patroclus that afternoon.

" What do you think you are doing? Is this funny to you? "

You smiled innocently, creating contrast with the act itself.

" I'm not trying to be funny … I'm just trying something else. "

It was an authentical torture for him, precisely because of how good it felt.

" You have no excuse for this, young lady. " He called you out in a hesitant tone. " You are already aware of the effect you have in men and I have proven I'm not a threat for you … Why submitting me to such cruel test? "

The slightest movement you made was only making things worse.

" Patroclus stopped fighting because I made him. I didn't mean to, but I think I made him … feel things. He got shy, surprise made him stay still under me. "

Odysseus closed his fist strongly to avoid the temptation of grabbing your hips.

" That's a matter of you and him. If you want to tell him that you like him, I can think of plenty of safer scenarios I can help you practice … Why are you doing this to me?"

More of your sweet giggling confused him, but the explanation you had for him actually shocked him.

" I don't like Patroclus, I like you. And i wanted to see if it would be easier to show you like this."

Before you could reach down to kiss him, he flipped you arround so you would be back to your original position.

Your hurted expression was breaking his heart.

" This isn't fair for you, I need you to understand. " He attempted to explain himself. " Any other man would be taking advantage on a girl going through her first infatuation, specially one as beautifull as you. I'll not be that man, I can't be that man. "

" So is it normal for other men to want me, but not for you? " You inquirred, fighting tears. " Odysseus, you are nothing like those bastards. Accepting my affections won't turn you into one of them."

" It won't be a noble act either, not when you deserve so much better than an old king ruler of a small greek Island where you can't even raise horses. In my Ithaca you would feel small, daughter of greater kings, and you could regret your youthfull impulse for the rest of your life. "

He stared deeply into your eyes to deliver his conclussion.

" When you are a king, very few choices are simple. For your own good, and the good of my people, we can't have this. "

Unable to speak, you close your then tearfull eyes and he gave one peck to each as he held you in his arms.

" It's alright, little one. You will feel better tomorrow. It's your great day, the council has opted for your liberation. You will see how once you will start living again you won't get chances to remember me. "

You nodded negatively.

" You don't know what you are saying … "

" Think of the good things, of everything you will be getting back. " He cutted you off. " Of your father, your brothers and your beloved cousin. Soon you will be back with them and I will go with you. "

The remembrance of your family made you smile, but his clarification made it even better.

" Will you? "

" Agamemnon wants me to be the one returning you as a loyalty gesture to him. "

The answer was an inminent dissapointment.

" Why are you still obbeying that horrible man ? "

Odysseus kissed your forehead, as he had done the first time you stayed with him.

" Because I am the King of Ithaca and I am aware the King of Mycenae is a pridefull man who doesn't forget offenses easily. My Island can't afford an enemy like him, we aren't powerfull like your Troy. "

You managed to understand at least the political aspect of his choice. Still, the mixed feelings weren't doing the situation any favors. In some extent, his rejectment was his way of making things easier for you.

Despite you were aware of it, you were resistant to giving up.

The morning after you insisted on taking your time saluting the bunch of men you recalled were nice to you. When it got to the turn of Patroclus, you gave him a strong hug and admitted you considered him like a friend. The statement made him feel good anyways and he was happy about you, only regretted you wouldn't be able to see each other again while the war would still be on going.

Once you got in the charriot of Odysseus and the journey back home started, you realized you weren't feeling like a captive returning from a life scarring experience to your grieveing family. The situation made you feel more like a soon to be betrothed maiden presenting them to her favorite suitor.

A herald was sent to arrange a previous truce with the city to fascilitate the exchange. Your relatives were aware you were coming, but the conditions of your arrival surprised them.

No visible scars, wearing a beautifull new dress and smiling for them as if you would have been absent in a diplomatical trip.

From all of them, Paris rushed towards you first despite his leg was still dealing with side consequences of his first fíght.

" Beloved sister, I'm so sorry for the pain I caused you. " He welcomed you, full of sorrow for thinking he had failed you, as he held you thight. " I can't imagine what you must have endured. "

You giggled lightly and caressed his cheek.

" Don't worry, Achilles is not as bad as he wants the rest of the world to see him … Agamemnon, in the other hand? Most evil man I have ever meet. And his brother was a pig, I'm proud of Helen for escaping him. "

She got to hear that you still supported her and it made her smile. She was observing the scene at a prudential distance, ríght next to Andromache, and you smiled back for both of them.

" What does that exactly mean? " Hector interrupted, concern raising in his voice. " Is there anything he did to you that should make me regret the fast, mercifull death I gave him? "

Odysseus found his reaction very relatable and attempted to calm him down.

" Her virtue remains unspoiled. The sons of Atreus were against the idea, but I took some liberties from the for the sake of the wisest proceeding. That's why Agamemnon has finally made me the man in charge of returning your sister and answering your doubts. "

Freshly released by Paris, you faced your eldest brother with a pridefull smile.

" It's all thanks to you! They realized they have gone too far without walls that could protect them from you. "

Your usual admiration was the only intervention trully managing to soften him. Hector smiled back and you inmediately clinged to him in comforting embarace.

It didn't last long, since a sweet calling of your name interrupted you and you saw Briseis arriving with your father.

" Cousin!!!! " You cheered back. " I'm back, dear cousin!!! I'm back!!! "

Odysseus avoided any commentary as he observed your reunion with her, but he couldn't help thinking of just one thing.

Achilles claiming he would have found interest on a slightly older version of yourself, which was precisely what could be found in the woman that was saluting you.

The fleeting thought abandoned him quickly, when witnessing the warm welcome of your father made it all worthy.

" My dear child! " Priam cheered, open arms already inviting you to hug him, as you inmediately did. " No proper words can describe my pride over your brave sacrifice, or the sorrow it brought to me. "

He kissed your forehead and you smiled before replying.

" Father! I don't need your praise, all I wanted was for Briseis to be safe. "

Your modesty still moved him.

" The city is aware of what happened, i'm not the onlyone honoring your courage … Although I am the most insistent. "

You laughed together for a brief instant, untill you seemed to have remembered of something important you needed to expose.

" I want you to meet someone. "

Giving a few steps back, you directed towards your solitary greek escolt and took his hand.

" This is my savior, King Odysseus of Ithaca. Without him, I would have found a fate worst than death in that camp. "

Priam took a moment to observe him, then mischievously glanced at you.

" Savior, you say? From what Helen has commented me, the son of Laertes would never save someone without a previously calculated benefict in sight. "

Odysseus released from your grip and proceeded to explain himself, aware of how rational those doubts were.

" I risked an argument with my commander in chief because looking after her was what my honor demmanded me. My infamous trickery worked only on the service of returning your daughter without compromising my loyalties. "

The speech seemed to have pleased the trojan king.

" I'm glad to see there are still leaders of the greeks willing to do the ríght thing. "

Helen and Hector were sharing furtive glances of disdain, giving each other the push to present an objection. Following one imperceptible nod from her, he took the iniciative separating you from the greek.

" Father, you can't trust his word. This man is famous among his kind for being a wolf in sheep's clothing. "

The happiness of having you back mattered more to your father than any wise seeming warning.

" If your sister trusts him, he deserves my doubt."

Hector had a precise reason to be skeptical and he didn't hide it.

" Men like him know how to trick innocent girls into trusting them."

" He couldn't have tricked Agamemnon into doing something nice for us. " Helen corrected, supporting him. " My old brother in law would never allow such thing, … unless he would believe to be punishing him. "

That idea never crossed your mind, but it gave you hope.

If Odysseus felt having to leave you as a personal punishment, maybe you could still convince him. You could make him feel fond of your country so he wouldn't want it to be destroyed, tempting him into staying with you.

[s8tnn]

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[sotwk]

Help I just watched the last episode of season 1 of The Gilded Age and now I'm stuck staring off into space daydreaming about waltzing around a ballroom with Boromir again.

[hottpinkpenguin]

Knees - Boromir X Fem!Reader

Oneshot, word count: 3,167 Summary: You've tried to keep your feelings for Gondor's favored captain a secret, and done a damn good job. Until now. Warnings: angst, fluff, heavy steam, implied oral sex A/n: the poem in this oneshot borrows heavily from the lyrics of 'Old Gods' by Emily Scott Robinson (highly recommend her music if you enjoy Nanci Griffith, James Taylor, or Joni Mitchell)

Boromir could feel the beginnings of a headache pulsing at his temples. The din of the crowd milling around the Tower Hall was grating on his last nerve. His father had insisted on an extravagant banquet to celebrate his recent successes as the High Warden of the White Tower, but Boromir would have preferred to rest and spend the evening strolling through the streets of Gondor unbothered. Eager to get away from the crowd, Boromir strode out of the busy throne room onto the south facing balcony.

The night air was warm and smelled of jasmine. Boromir took a deep inhale, leaning his hands on the rail of the balcony and gazing out over the Pelennor Fields, the expanse of grassland that stretched out from Minas Tirith’s feet towards the banks of the Anduin. Boromir strained his eyes against the dim twilight; he thought he could make out the parapets of Osgiliath, Gondor’s first capital, now little more than a ruined river crossing. Faramir was there, as commander of the city’s garrison. Boromir had ordered his brother to oversee repairs to the old city to prepare for the coming battle. Beyond the dark smudge of Osgiliath’s long-vacant towers, an ominous blackness loomed over the land of Mordor. His thoughts turned bleak as he wondered what was stirring behind the mountains in that black land. Scouts reports had confirmed that orcs were-

Boromir jumped at the tinny clang of something metal hitting the stone floor in a darkened corner of the balcony. Instinctually, Boromir’s right hand grasped at the hilt of his sword and unsheathed it in barely more than a breath. He crouched into a warrior’s pose, his sword held out in front of him and his features steely as he looked for the source of the noise.

The quickness of his movements startled you almost as much as your clumsiness had startled him. You were glad for the darkness as you felt your face flush with embarrassment at your discovery. You hadn’t expected the High Captain of Gondor to skip out on his own banquet; in fact, you’d been counting on having the balcony all to yourself, so you’d be able to write in peace. There certainly wouldn’t be anymore of that, now that the small candelabra you’d been using for light was in two pieces on the stone floor. 

You leapt to your feet, muttering apologies and trying to keep your heart from beating out of your chest. You’d never been so close to Boromir before, and certainly not alone in the dark. Your mouth went dry at the realization. 

As one of the Steward’s personal scribes, you’d spent most of your life in the Tower Hall of Minas Tirith. On occasion, your work brought you into close contact with both of Denethor’s sons. Faramir was something of a friend to you, despite the difference in your stations. You both shared a love of the written word and his quiet temperament mirrored yours, making you fast friends. But it was Faramir’s older brother, the handsome and lordly High Warden, that made you go weak in the knees. It had been that way since you’d been old enough to notice such things.

You’d always admired him from a distance and kept your desires to yourself, confiding your feelings only in the pages of your journals. Nothing would come of your infatuation, you knew; Boromir was next in line for the Steward’s role, which was the closest thing Gondor had to a king. His title required him to wed someone of noble birth, and you knew his father would have nothing but the best for his favorite son. While your family was not poor and your duties as a scribe were a great source of pride to them, you did not have the aristocratic heritage needed to be a worthy match for the High Warden. And even if you did, he’s never looked twice at you, a harsh inner voice reminded you, causing your fragile heart to crumple at the reminder.

“Forgive me, my lord, I didn’t wish to disturb you.” Your voice sounded small and pathetic, and you felt your cheeks blaze with renewed embarrassment. 

Boromir relaxed at the sound of your voice, dropping his sword and chuckling softly. 

“You shouldn’t make a habit of startling armed men, you know,” Boromir chided you gently as he bent to pick up the fragments of the broken candelabra at your feet. He was so close that you could see the seams on his blue brocade tunic. When he stood, the candelabra in his hands, he stood almost a half foot taller than you. If you’d been bold enough to hold his gaze, you would have been forced to incline your chin up at him. But you kept your eyes fixed intently on the gray stone floor, hoping he couldn’t hear the erratic thudding of your heart in your chest. He was so close you swore you could feel the faint tickle of his breath on your temple. Your skin erupted in flames where his breath danced over it.

“I’ll make a note of that, my Lord,” you stammered in reply, barely able to keep your voice from breaking. 

“Please, Y/N, how long have you known me? Dispense with the ‘my Lord’ nonsense, I beg you. I’ve heard enough of that tonight.” The sound of your name in his voice sent a thrill running up your spine. You hadn’t realized that Boromir knew you apart from the dozens of other faces he saw on a daily basis around the halls of the Steward’s quarters. That fact, coupled with the High Warden’s closeness, scattered your thoughts like marbles on a smooth floor until you didn’t trust yourself not to press yourself against him, twine your fingers in his hair, press your lips to his, run your hands along the planes of his stomach, pant his name until you were breathless, grab his-

You audibly let out a small, breathless gasp as you tore yourself away and bid your feet to run. You knew that if you stayed that close to him for one more second you would do something irreparable and shameful. All you heard as you left, practically sprinting away into the relative safety of the well-lit throne room, was the blood pounding in your head. It drowned out the sound of the night breeze, the sounds of the party, and the sound of Boromir calling after you…

**********

Boromir watched as y/n scurried away like a frightened animal into the banquet room once again. He must have misread the signals, must have misinterpreted the tension in the air between them. Boromir wasn’t used to being rebuffed in his advances; most people were swayed by his easy charm, his skill with a sword, and his title at the very least. But y/n seemed immune to him, always preferring the quiet company of Faramir. Feeling frustrated and embarrassed, he called out after y/n, but his voice was swallowed up by the sounds of merriment in the throne room. 

“You damn fool,” Boromir cursed to himself as he ran a regretful hand through his hair. He tossed away the broken pieces of y/n’s candelabra, anger at his misstep boiling in his chest as he made to stride off. It was then that he saw it, resting precariously on the balcony’s railing. A small, leather-bound journal. 

Boromir hadn’t noticed it earlier, although he recognized it instantly. Y/n always carried such a journal. Aside from Faramir, it was y/n’s most steadfast companion. 

Boromir froze, eyeing the diary, a conflict raging within him. He knew that whatever contents the journal held were private and to open it constituted a violation of honor. The thought twisted like a knife in his gut. But, on the other hand, Boromir had always longed for a peak into y/n’s mind. For reasons he couldn’t quite articulate, Boromir knew that there was beauty there, if only he could access it. 

He hesitated for only a moment, casting a wary glance back towards the banquet hall. If y/n saw him, Boromir’s far-flung hopes would be dashed forever. No one was looking, and y/n had disappeared into the crowd. It was now or never.

Like a man dying of thirst, Boromir grabbed the journal greedily and cracked it open, his eyes roving the pages and drinking in the words. It was a journal, but so much more. There were smatterings of poetry: some of it original, Boromir deduced, but some of it copied down from y/n’s work in Minas Tirith’s library. Every so often, Boromir found a sketch. Most of it was of Minas Tirith, drawn from the vantage point of the mountains that rose up behind the city. A few horses, children, nondescript landscapes. They were beautiful renderings, detailed and delicate in the linework, incredibly lifelike. 

He continued to flip through the journal. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but in his eagerness to scour the entirety of the book he found he couldn’t focus on any one page for longer than a moment. 

Not until he found his own likeness staring out of the page up at him. 

Boromir recognized himself in y/n’s drawing immediately, although the pen-and-ink Boromir seemed finer somehow. Boromir’s heart pirouetted in his chest as he drank in the drawing, trying to decipher where it was that y/n’s drawing deviated from reality. Y/n had captured the line of his jaw perfectly, even the small scar above his right eyebrow. His hair was rough and unkempt looking, as if he’d just returned from a horseback ride, and he wore his simple fighting leathers. The eyes and lips were a perfect mirror to his own, but still there was something about the drawing… 

His eyes slid down the page to where, at the very bottom of the drawing, he saw a single line of small, impeccably neat handwriting:

A King in a long line of Stewards

Boromir felt the breath hitch in his throat. The sentiment was simple but beautiful, and it touched something very deep inside him. 

The feverish hunger to devour the journal’s contents in a single gulp from moments before slowed and dwindled to something much more tender. Boromir flipped the page slowly, the same neat handwriting covering the backside of the sheaf of paper where his portrait was drawn.

You must be a trick of the memory that the old gods are playing on me,

You travel with my love over plains, mountains and seas.

Your blue eyes are there when I close mine, 

Your voice chases me while I dream,

My heart cries out in the darkness for you,

The roots of the world shake with its scream. 

I’ll drown in this desire and choke on this need,

Say you’re mine once and I’ll fall to my knees.

Boromir read the lines more times than he could count, luxuriating in the words until he could hardly breathe. He knew y/n’s words when he heard them, although he’d never heard anything close to this. Never dared to hope that anything approximating this was in y/n’s heart. His mind danced with a misty light, his heart suffused with warmth. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, using the fading light of the banquet inside to read the lines over and over again until he had them memorized. 

At some point he surfaced from his reverie, his heart beating erratically against his ribs. He stood up from where he’d sat against the railing, smoothing the front of his tunic and the sides of his hair. With a final inhale, he strode off purposefully, weaving through the thinning crowd of Gondor’s nobility, ignoring their greetings. He didn’t hesitate until he found himself standing in front of y/n’s door. Shakily, unsure of what he was about to say, he knocked twice. 

**********

You heard two soft knocks at your door. You glanced at the moon outside, surprised that anyone would pay you a visit this late. It was nearing midnight, you guessed. There was a fluttery feeling in your chest coupled with a pit in your stomach that you hadn’t been able to soothe with either tea or a warm bath. You felt as if you were losing your mind by inches. You’d spent your entire life, more or less, in Boromir’s home and you’d crossed his path hundreds of times before. Why now were you suddenly undone like a smitten child? Your feelings for him weren’t new, so why were you abruptly unable to control them?

You tried to push those thoughts from your mind as you crossed your chamber and unlatched your door. You suspected it would be Teithand, the master scribe. On rare occasions he gave you a special assignment and made a habit of visiting your private chambers to discuss the details of these duties at all hours of the day or night. 

But the figure darkening your doorway wasn’t dressed in the long, cream robes of a scribe, but instead in the formalwear of Gondorian nobility. 

Boromir smiled at you, and the sight of him, leaning casually against your door frame and close to you set your heart ablaze again. The thoughts you’d tenuously strung together shattered and your breath hitched in your throat. 

When you saw the small journal clutched in the High Warden’s hands, however, your stomach fell into your feet. Horror and something deeper than shame consumed you in an instant. 

You hardly had time to process what was happening before Boromir stepped into your chamber confidently. He tossed your journal onto the bed behind you, his now empty hands coming to the small of your back and the side of your face as he caught your lips with his.

You froze. You’d lost all semblance of coherent thought. The whiplash of emotions had left you feeling terrified. Thankfully, your body reacted faster than either your head or your heart. 

As if you’d done it a thousand times before, your lips moved in sync with Boromir’s and your hands tangled in the thick strands of his auburn hair. You gave yourself over to instinct as your mind dissolved under the pressure of his lips. His breath washed over you - warm and ragged - as the two of you pressed your bodies against each other, eager to melt together in the quiet dark of your chamber. His hands roamed over you, tentatively at first, but faster and firmer as you responded to his touch with neediness. You heard a small, desperate groan escape from the back of his throat; the sound of it almost sent you catapulting over the edge of the logic. 

You caught yourself in the instant before you lost all control of yourself, breaking the kiss and pulling back just enough to catch his eyes. 

“Boromir, what is thi-”

“I’m yours,” he whispered back, cutting you off with his words followed by another kiss. This time his lips refused to stay contained to yours. He tipped your head back, exposing your neck to him as his mouth moved along its length. The places where his lips connected with your skin burned like a brand. You felt a heat building deep inside your core. 

“I’m yours, Y/N” he said again. This time it was him who had the sense to pull away. You were panting, and you would have been self-conscious if it weren’t for the fact that he too was on the verge of gasping. His hands came to either side of your face, framing them as his eyes bored into yours. 

“Aren’t you…” Boromir’s question died on his lips, replaced by an impish grin. He raised an eyebrow at you, his eyes moving between your face and the ground beneath your feet. Between the confusion starting to coalesce in your head (what the hell is going on? the rational part of you screamed) and your body alight with desire, you didn’t have enough wherewithal to decipher his meaning. 

“Aren’t I what?” you asked dumbly. A sliver of anxiety spliced its way into your chest… maybe what you were seeing in Boromir’s eyes was just the neediness of a lord looking at someone he knew was game for a tumble in bed, and not the mirror image of your satisfaction at the fulfillment of a long-denied devotion. 

“Going to fall to your knees,” Boromir replied, placing a soft, gentle kiss on your lips. It was almost a question, as if he were asking you. The brazenness of his request startled you, but the heat in your core blazed in response. There was also something familiar about his words…

“In your journal… you wrote, ‘say you’re mine once and I’ll fall to my knees’… I’ve said it twice now, and yet here you stand.” He chuckled softly, his lips dancing along your jaw and over your cheeks as you tried to catch up to his meaning. 

Then, like a clap of thunder, it clicked. The poem. You’d written it over a year ago, the night after Boromir had left Minas Tirith with a garrison of Gondor’s guards to ride to an outpost at the southern border. You’d almost forgotten your words - you’d written so many of them, all of them for him. 

You let you a small laugh in surprise and a hint of embarrassment.

“Didn’t anyone tell you it was rude to read another’s writings, my Lord?” You emphasized the last two words, shooting him a wicked smile as you made good on your written promise and sank to your knees in front of him. Your fingers went to work on the lacing of his trousers, the urgency of the moment rekindling between you. Boromir caught your chin with his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to catch his gaze. He looked breathtaking, standing over you. A King in a long line of Stewards, you thought as you drank in the sight of him. 

“Call me Boromir,” he said simply. “I won’t have you calling me ‘my Lord’ for the rest of our days together.” His tone was casual, but you could hear the intention of his words. You hesitated only momentarily before returning to the task at hand. You broke into a smile, wide and triumphant, and although your attention was focused elsewhere, Boromir’s expression matched yours exactly…

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

Pilot!Boromir headcanons

Boromir x reader. NSFW!!

Friends with benefits to lovers; obviously modern AU.

This was inspired by this post, and me remembering about Sean Bean's role in Flightplan. Eru, this man looks so good in a pilot uniform...

*****

✈️ His father is an important politician and/or entrepreneur, and Boromir was supposed to follow in his footsteps, but he has always wanted to be a pilot, fly and spend his life in the sky; as a consequence, as soon as he was of age he enlisted in Gondor's Air Force to pursue a military carreer as a pilot. This caused an unexpected, unprecedented rift between father and son, but since Boromir swore that if his father tried to stop him, he would leave and never return home, Denethor had to grudgingly accept his son's decision, hoping in his heart Boromir would one day change his mind and take the place his father had prepared for him.

✈️ He serves in the army for many years, becoming one of the most capable pilots in the Air Force, both in peace and in war. After a few years he is injuried during the Amon Hen Battle, where he risks his life protecting a pair of civilians in reaching his plane and then flies them to safety while a bombing is taking place around them.

✈️ After that, he decides he has had enough of the army, and his father's hopes are definitely dashed when he decides to accept his friend Aragorn's offer to work for his company, Elessar Airlines.

✈️ And this is when he meets you, a capable stewardess working for the same airline and mainly flying on long-haul routes - just like him. The first time you meet in the company's offices, for you it is not love, but lust at first sight, and how could it not? Tall and athletic, a face that is a textbook example of masculine grace (strong jaw, expressive brown eyes, the sort of nose you would normally look for on a marble statue) Boromir must be one of the most handsome men you have ever met, and when you shake hands, and you hear his deep, musical voice repeating in a murmur the name you have just given him (as if he wants to make sure he understood it correctly, or likes it so much he wants to taste it on his tongue) you immediately know your interest is fully reciprocated. "Welcome to Elessar Airlines, mr. Hurin; I'm sure you'll enjoy working with us." "Thank you. I look forward to working with you, miss (last name)."

✈️ You work together on three flights in the following six weeks, which gives you the opportunity to break the ice and get to know each other. You are impressed with his past as a military pilot, which he shares with the sort of quiet, down-to-earth pride of a man happy to have done his duty and who because of this doesn't look for praises or compliments, and with the clear affection in his voice when he speaks of his younger brother, Faramir (who is pursuing a carreer as a diplomat) since your relationship with your own siblings is much less close and affectionate. On his part, Boromir listens with interest when you tell him about your job or your interests, discovering he can't take his eyes off you while you talk.

✈️ You are sharing a drink at the airport bar one evening, waiting for boarding time, when his leg brushes against yours under the counter; you smile, immediately sure he did it on purpose, and Boromir smiles back, aware you are both thinking about the same thing. "We have about thirty minutes before we need to get on board." he murmurs, his face suddenly so close to yours you can feel his breath on your face, and you feel yourself shivering "How about we... find somewhere a little more private?"

✈️ You immediately, and happily, accept, and a minute later Boromir is closing the door of the (fortunately empty) pilot lounge behind you, your bodies already flushed against each other, your mouth pressed against his in a breath-taking, hungry kiss. "Eru." Boromir murmurs; his hands are moving frantically on your body, caressing, stimulating, and making you wish your neatly pressed uniform were not in the way "You are driving me crazy, I have wanted you since the very moment I saw you..." "You can have me." you answer in a moan, already drunk with desire; your back pressed against the wall, you lift your leg around Boromir's hips, pressing your pelvis against him and feeling him already hard from you "Please... please, I need you inside me..."

✈️ Unfortunately, Boromir's phone and yours ring almost at the same time, calling you both on board sooner than expected for a consultation with the rest of the crew you'll be flying with; by then, you are sitting in Boromir's lap, your panties on the floor and your mouth on his naked chest, and stopping and composing yourselves requires a tremendous effort. "Listen, I'm sorry as well." you murmur as you kiss him once more while Boromir puts his jacket on, feeling as unsatisfied as he looks "But we'll have time. I'll have a room by myself at the hotel when we land; you could come visit me."

✈️ That brings a smile on Boromir's lips. You leave the room and meet with the rest of the crew, the co-pilot and the two male stewards who have no idea you are still wet and he has a semi as you take care of pre-boarding, and you share a secret smile before Boromir leaves to reach the cock-pit and you wait for the passengers. You are both too professional, and aware of the risks, to slip away during the flight, even though all the planes have a tiny room reserved for the crew where pilots and stewards can retire to rest; you force yourself to focus on your duties, making sure all the passengers are comfortable, checking their tickets, serving lunch and making sure they fasten their seatbelts when requested, but you can't stop thinking about him, the tall and handsome man responsible for the safety of everyone on board, and who soon, you know, will fuck you until you can't even remember your name.

✈️ After a tranquil flight, you reach the hotel where the crew will spend the night before your next shift. You have barely time to leave your luggage on the floor, take off your shoes and visit the toilet, before you hear knocking on the door. You are already trembling with desire as you open it; Boromir is there, still in his uniform except for his jacket and tie, and the desire burning in his eyes is enough to make your heart skip a beat or three. He enters and "Come to me, woman." he says opening his arms to you, and normally you are not used to passively obeying men's orders, at least when you are not working, but you feel you can make an exception for him: you jump in Boromir's arms, and you are already kissing him passionately while he carries you to the bed.

✈️ From there, things develop naturally. After that first, magical night, you ask him to meet at your place; Boromir eagerly accepts, and you spend the whole night having sex; there is an adoring light in his eyes as he holds you by the waist, his free hand playing with your nipples, his long legs entwined to yours. "My place next time?" he proposes, and you start kissing his torso, confident it will be clear enough for an answer. It seems almost too good to be true: you have found a passionate, inventive, generous lover, as hungry for you as you are for him, and no matter how many times you sleep together, you are never tired, never bored, and every time you part with a kiss, neither can wait for your next date.

✈️ You are not exactly hiding your relationship, since nothing forbids the two of you from being together, but at the same time you tacitly decide to keep it to yourselves, and you both find excitement, and fulfilment, in having sex where you could be caught, disregarding the fact that you both live alone and could therefore meet at your place or his. One day, shortly before take-off on a return flight you are working on with another pilot, Boromir sends you a text with a long, detailed description of the things he wants to do to you. You read it three times, and then you have to excuse yourself to the toilet, where you touch yourself towards a quick, powerful orgasm that nonetheless leaves you unsatisfied before going back to work on shaky legs. Five agonizing hours later Boromir is waiting for you at the gate, and you let his hand guide you to the airport's parking lot, where his car is waiting for you, and your lover makes good on all his promises, holding you by the hips while you bounce above him on the driver's seat.

✈️ Then there are the lounges. The airport toilettes. The hotels in foreign cities you never get to visit, and where one of your separate bedrooms is invariably left unused. One day, after a long separation (six excruciating days in which your shifts never matched, and you had to make do exchanging pictures, texts, and making each other climax with phone sex) you have him come at your place directly from the airport where he landed; Boromir is exhausted, but immediately forgets it when he finds you lying on the bed, wearing only a pair of high heels and a thong, a flute in your hand. Would you like some champagne, sir?, you ask in your professional voice, and that is the night you discover it is physically possible for a man to come four times in nine hours.

✈️ In the end, you join the Mile High club together. When you confess him that having sex on a plane has always been a secret desire of yours, Boromir surprises you making your dream come true... just, not when you're flying, since it would be unprofessional for a pilot to leave the cockpit after take-off, no matter how urgent the impulse he has to take care of is, and both of you'd get undoubtedly fired if discovered. A couple of guys working for the company's security service owe him a favour, and one night you and your lover slip on board of a plane grounded for security reasons. You kiss desperately as you walk along the carpet-covered corridor towards the first class area, and make love on the pilot's chair, him sitting and you riding him like you both like, and then against the instrument panel, your thighs around his waist and your mouth finding his in a sloppy but passionate kiss. You whisper his name, you moan it, you cry it; no one hears, fortunately, since you're the only two people on the whole runway, but he does, and that is what really matters.

✈️ He is not into toys, and being tied up is too frustrating for a man used to always retain control on things around him. On the other hand, he is happy to indulge your preferences, be it exchanging hot photos when you're in public, or sucking on your breasts until they hurt.

✈️ If you want to make him hard, you call him mr. Hurin, in a sultry tone you quickly learn to use when you are together. If you want to make him come within two minutes, you call him sir. If you want to make him forget his own name, you call him captain, and prepare yourself to walk funny on the next day.

✈️ You like both giving and receiving oral sex, Boromir enjoys being sucked, but obliged when you ask him to return the favour, and discovers he is naturally talented. He likes anal sex, but at the same time wants to look at you in the eyes while he takes you, and thus you prefer to do it standing, leaning against a chest of drawers in your bedroom, in front of a large oval mirror; his lips leave a trail of fire on your skin, and no matter how exhausted he is, he always takes you in his arms to carry you to the bed. "Are you all right?" he gently asks, chastely kissing your forehead before lying next to you; he always asks, no matter how enthusiastically you took part in your lovemaking, and you always nod, and then happily snuggle against his side.

✈️ He asks you once, out of curiosity, if you'd like to open your relationship to a third partner, provided you find someone you both like and can trust. "Absolutely not." you decisively ask as you caress his chest; you don't even have to ask whether the third partner would be a male or a female, because it would change nothing "I only want you, and I want you to have eyes only for me when we are together. Please, let's not talk about it anymore." Boromir obeys; he doesn't express his own opinion on the matter, but he seems satisfied of your answer.

✈️ He likes seeing you in your stewardess uniform, so much that sometimes you surprise him wearing it when he visits you, after you have taken off your bra and panties underneath. Lingerie excites him, and since you refuse to accept money from him, even if as a simple gift, he buys you things he'd like to see on you; when you meet at work, he imagines you wearing his gifts under your uniform, and can't wait to take it off you. Once, you leave a pair of lacy panties under his pillow, as a surprise for when he'll wake up; he carries it with him in his pocket for the whole day, before cornering you in the company's parking lot. I think you left this at my place last night, he says after a long, trembling kiss, your body pressed between his and the door of your car, do you want it back? Or shall I teach you to take good care of the things you are gifted?

✈️ One day after a particularly memorable night, you realize you have scratched his back with your nails; Boromir doesn't mind, so lost in the world of pleasure you had created together he hadn't even felt the pain, and after a moment of guilt you feel quite proud of it, and happy at the thought he is carrying a sign of your passion on his skin, evident enough anyone who sees him would realize. Emboldened, you start biting his neck as you kiss, not so hard that it hurts but enough to leave a bruise, and two days later, when you join your colleagues at the airport for a new flight, you hear an older steward ask Boromir if he is sick, since he's wearing an heavy scarf over his shirt. Just a cold, your lover answers, impassible, and when your gazes meet he tries to scowl at you, but he ends up smiling as he sees you laughing behind your hand.

✈️ Everything is going great between the two of you. You sleep together at least three times a week, either at his or at your house, and while most of your dates begin in the bedroom, you soon discover you sincerely enjoy each other's company; you like falling asleep in your lovers' arms, his body keeping you warm better than the heaviest blanket, while Boromir enjoys resting his cheek on your chest and feeling you play with his hair. You enjoy long talkes, freely discussing personal matters as well as work issues; Boromir appreciates you are not wont to gossip, while you like he actually cares about your point of view as a stewardess, unlike other pilots who consider the other company employees beneath them. Yes, everything is going great, and six months after that first, magical night in the hotel room, you are still completely crazy about each other, fully satisfied of that (initially) purely sexual, no strings attached, relationship... and at the same time, finding yourselves wanting more.

✈️ Boromir is jealous. Naturally protective, and often possessive, of the people he cares for, Boromir finds himself hating every man who approaches you or that he suspects is interested in you, even if he has no reason to fear for your safety. He knows he has no right to feel that way, since you are not dating or anything and never even talked about making your sexual relationship exclusive, but he can't help it, and the simple thought of someone else touching you like he does, or worse, making you feel pleasure like he is so proud he has done for months, makes him see red. He has to bit his tongue to stop himself from asking about it any time he hears a masculine voice coming from your phone, he tries to discover who among the male colleagues you are friends with is single and could as a consequence pose a threat, and that time a wealthy passenger buys a costly perfume from the onboard shopping catalog and then gifts it to you together with his number on a piece of paper, he feels the irresistible urge to throw that cretin off the plane, even as he sees you politely refusing both offers, since the company guidelines forbid you from accepting gifts from passengers. Is this the only reason you declined?, he can't stop wondering, and would you have accepted otherwise? Is there already someone else in your life, someone you see when you're not with him, someone you like more than him and who could one day take you away from him...?

✈️ Your fears are different, albeit equally deep and distressing, and mainly concern the possibility your lover grows tired of you. After all you have slept together for months already, and no matter how intense the connection between you is, how passionate your lovemaking and how often he whispers in your ear you are so beautiful, so good for me, so tight and hot, and how amazing you feel when he's inside you and that no one has ever made him come so hard, sooner or later inevitably enthusiasm dwindles and boredom sets in; Boromir is an attractive man, you have seen passengers (of all ages, and all genders) giggling and looking at him with admirations on every single flight you have worked on together, and many of your fellow stewardesses likewise make no secret of their attraction. What if eventually someone catches his attention? Someone more beautiful, and younger than you, or pursuing whom provides a more exciting past-time than your by now established relationship? You are not tired of him (you have come to suspect you never will be) and there is nothing you wouldn't do to keep him by your side, but you can't stop fearing one day you will lose him...

✈️ Soon, you both realize you have developed feelings for each other, a discovery that does not surprise you (good, and even exceptional, sex does not necessarily translate in love, but what has been born between the two of you was too intense, too special and intimate and deep not to affect your heart) but that puts you both in a predicament. Could each of you confess your feelings to the other person, potentially finding out they did not reciprocate? You had never spoken much about your relationship, to give it a name or establish rules for something that made you both happy and satisfied, and while you had not explicitly decided to keep what there is behind you strictly physical, neither of you had ever said or done anything that could led the other to suspect a desire, or even just a willingness, to transform your acquaintance in a romantic relationship - a committed, serious romantic relationship, because this is what both of you had come to desire. If it came out you wanted different things from your rapport, could you ignore it and go back to being simply friends with benefits? It would be good (it would be great) even though you couldn't help wishing for more, and in the secret of your hearts you both think anything would be preferable to lose each other. But what if you simply couldn't go on like you had, and disappointment and bitterness ended up separating you? What if the one who did not reciprocate their lover's feelings ended up falling for someone else?

✈️ Neither of you could be described as a timorous person. As a pilot, and a former military pilot at that, Boromir had been prepared to make potentially vital decisions in the span of a minute, and you had likewise never allowed fear and uncertainty to guide you. Still, as you keep meeting for the best sex of your lives, sharing intimacy and secrets and laughs and pleasure, you both decide what you share is too important, too precious and special, to risk it... even if it could mean the beginning of something even more marvellous.

✈️ In the end, the solution of your quandary is found not by you, nor by your handsome lover. You had not spoken about your relationship with Boromir to anyone else, more because it was simply a matter that only concerned the two of you than because you had to keep it secret, and your dearest friends simply know there is someone in your life who makes you very happy. He, on the other hand, is an even more private person, disinclined to discuss his personal matters… except with the person he trusts the most in the world, and with whom he has no secrets. "I have been seeing a woman." he confesses one night he and his brother have met for drinks in their favourite pub and remained there for hours just talking as usual, indifferent to everything and everyone around them. The pub is a nice place, he reflects, mainly frequented by men, but one day, it would be nice to bring you there, and have you taste his favourite drink… "I have met her on the job, she's a stewardess, and… she's amazing, Faramir. I have desired her since the moment we shook hands, and for… nine months now we have been having sex, the best of my life, I never even thought I could feel like this… she's everything I have ever wanted in a woman, in a partner, and then some." "Then why the long face?" Faramir, who has started dating his future wife Éowyn three weeks ago, asks, and he listens intently as his brother confesses his fears (something Boromir has never been good at doing) that the woman he has grown to care for so much does not reciprocate his feelings, would break up with him if she knew they want different things from their relationship, and could one day, worst of all, fall for someone else.

✈️ "Do you love her?" "I don't know; I have never been in love before, but I have never felt anything like what I feel for her, so yes, it might be love." Boromir says, shrugging; he doesn't care about names and labels, but he knows he wants more, he wants all of her and wants her to have all of him. He wants to share more than her bed and the warmth of her body; he wants to stop fearing he could lose her any day, if only someone else catches her gaze "I think… in time, I will grow to love her very much. But I don't know if she feels the same, she's very affectionate and I know I can... I mean, that she's satisfied with what we have now; and that's the problem. Maybe she's happy like this, and she could never see me as anything but a sexual partner..."

✈️ Faramir knows his brother doesn't want to be consoled or advised on how to tackle his problem (which he would be unable to do in any case, since he doesn't know the woman his brother has developed feelings for and has no idea whether she reciprocates either); what he needs is to be listened to, and Faramir is happy to lend him his ear, intimately saddened to see his older brother so uncertain, and at risk of having his heart broken. "I'm sure you'll know what to do when the time is right." he says, and while Boromir seems actually comforted by his words, he feels he can, and as a consequence has to, do more for him...

✈️ ... which is why on the next day he visits Aragorn at the company's office, under the pretext of inviting him for dinner but in reality with a very different intent. "I know there is a stewardess here named (name); will you tell me how to find her? She is not in trouble or anything, but I can't tell you why." he asks; Aragorn decides to trust him, and luckily you are at the office right then, having had to come for a meeting with your supervisor and other stewardesses. The moment the two of you are face to face it takes you a moment to recognize him, because Boromir has a framed photo of the two of them on his bedside table, and because the man in front of you is a slightly younger, vaguely gentler version of the one you have slept with for nine months. You know he doesn't work for the company and you have no idea why he has come to see you; for a terrible moment, you fear something has happened to Boromir, but Faramir hurries to reassure you. "My brother has told me about you; believe me, I would never intrude in his personal affairs, but he cares greatly about you, much more than he has ever told you, and obviously you don't have to lie to him about your feelings to spare him the disappointment, but... but sometimes the only thing stopping two people from finding happiness is themselves, and fear. Boromir has never been afraid, never since I know him, and this is why I beg of you, take care of him, and of his feelings. I'm sure you'll know what to do when the time is right."

✈️You remain where you are, dumbstruck, while Faramir thanks you for your time and leaves; after a while, you finally move, reach your car in the parking lot and drive home, where you spend an hour walking in circle and staring at the wall, your mind possessed by a single, simple and at the same time terrifying question. Now what?

✈️ "(name)?" Boromir says, appearing in the living room in front of you, and for an absurd moment you could almost believe you were thinking about him with such intensity, you had him appear by magic. "Are you all right? The front door was open." he says as he reaches you; you had completely forgotten you had decided to meet at your place tonight, and you were so engrossed in your thoughts you hadn't realized you hadn't locked the door as usual. "Yes, I'm fine; sorry, I was... thinking." you explain as you greet him with a kiss as usual, that he gladly reciprocates. You look at him, feeling the gentle but possessive way he's already cradling your hips in his hands, the pleasant scent of his aftershave making you shiver; oh, to Mandos with it, you think, I don't want to be afraid either. "I saw your brother this afternoon." you confess as your lover has already started kissing your neck, gently biting a point on your throat he knows makes you see stars "He... hmmm... he came at the office to talk to me... about you. About what you told him last night."

✈️ Boromir reacts as if he had seen the gates of Mordor open in front of him. "I can't believe Faramir would do something like this." he murmurs, and suddenly he can't even meet your gaze "(name), I... I am sorry, it doesn't have to matter..."

"But it does; it does matter, and please, don't be angry with your brother, he was only trying to help." you explain, taking his hands in yours "And I am happy he did it; very very happy, in fact." You hesitate for a minute, searching the right words and at the same time simply enjoying the closeness of his solid, warm body; as long as you are together, you think, you'll never be afraid. "There is a party I have been invited on Sunday. It's nothing special, just a friend celebrating her birthday, but it should be nice... and I'd like you to meet my friends; and one day, if you want, I could meet yours. What... what do you think?"

More than seeing it (you can't, since you're staring at your feet) you feel him smile softly. "I'd like that." he murmurs before kissing your hair; his mouth has touched every single inch of your body, and still, no kiss has ever been sweeter than that "I'd like that very much."

[fandomnerd9602]

The One I Want

Laura Kinney x Spiderpool!Reader

For @deafeningsharkslimeempath

Do you know that one moment where you just feel like you screwed everything up spectacularly? well that happened to me rather recently. Oh sorry where are my manners? my name is (Y/N) (L/N) and on my world I’m known as the spectacularly annoying Spider-Pool. The spectacularly annoying part is debatable.

You see it all started when the TVA zapped me into the void, something about being an anomaly, a profane and unholy combination of both Spider-Man and Deadpool. Honestly, it’s just the best of both worlds in my book or it would be a book if I wasn’t more than just one panel in comic book of the spider verse. True story look it up.

Or it could’ve been the fact that I killed Jared Leto, oh not Morbius. I’m saying I literally killed Jared Leto. It was an accident. I thought I was going after Morbius but oh well.

To make a long story short, I was forced to team up with X-23 or Laura as she likes to be called. One of my all time favorite X-Men characters by the way!

Anyway we found ourselves at an agreement, if I got her back to her timeline and out of the Void she would help me do the same. A good deal all things considered. The only downside is the TVA is so flip floppy. I mean one show it’s the villain the next show it’s good? Fiege, please make up your mind about what the TVA is?!

“You’re sure this plan of ours will work?” Laura told me as we drove thru the woods towards the reported base of the resistance found in the Void.

“If it works, I’ll be happily back in my world by this time tomorrow, Fun Size” Laura’s eyes went wide and she slammed on the brakes, nearly sending me flying into the windshield.

“If?! What do you mean if?!” She was screaming at me. My mind could only formulate the truth. I thought truth telling was Captain America's problem?!

"The TVA are hunting me and I need to get back home to save my world." Oh yeah it all came out like a big old truth salad. A truth salad that you order from Pizza Hut and immediately regret.

Laura began screaming and banging her fists against the steering wheel, "Are you fucking kidding me?! Out of all the spider totems to get stuck in the Void with and I end up with you!"

Oh I knew exactly where this was heading. A teenage superhero such as myself could only baton down the hatches and listen as this beautiful teenage fighting machine chewed me out. How is this both the most embarrassing and fulfilling moment of my life?

"I end up with the biggest fuck up in the multiverse! A spider-deadpool equivalent that couldn't save his Aunt May or Uncle Ben. Twice!"

It's true. I even somehow got my universe's Sean Bean killed. Yes. That Sean Bean. He wasn't even playing my Uncle Ben or anything!

Laura continued her little tirade, "No wonder the Spider Society turned you down! And the Avengers too! You can't save anyone or anything. Your world hates you! The girls you were supposed to love hate you! Mary Jane couldn't stand you. Gwen probably enjoyed death more than you!"

I could feel the anger rising up in the pit of my heart.

"The greatest joke is that no matter how much you wish for death to be with Gwen, you can't die! And it's one of God's greatest jokes on us instead of you!!!"

I was left in stone cold utter silence. I could feel my vision beginning to turn as red as my outfit.

"What?! No witty comeback?!"

"I'm going to fight you now" was all that left my mouth. And you know what? I meant it. Every. Last. Fucking. Word.

"Oh are you-?" THWIP! I shot one of my web guns, a web flew right over her mouth. The anger immediately flared in her eyes. Next thing I knew she lunged at me, claws out.

She grabbed my head and slammed it several times against the car radio. I grabbed her and gently pushed her against the driver seat. Hey I may be in a fight for my life but I’d still never hurt a woman.

Laura took one of her claws and ran it over the web, cutting it. I really should have taken Fictional Chemistry to understand that admantium is stronger than webs.

“This is ridiculous! I can’t hurt a girl!”

“A girl can hurt you!” She retorted before driving her claws in my lungs.

I kicked her straight thru the windshield of the Odyssey and into the forest in front of us. She simply smirked and dove right back thru. I had to admire her tenacity and endurance.

That admiration was interrupted with the familiar feeling of Adamantium being driven straight thru me, over and over.

She began muttering something in Spanish. Sadly I didn’t have the subtitles on so I couldn’t exactly know what she was saying. My Spanish only goes as far as my name: la piscina de aranas.

I pinned her to the second row seats, which were flattened like my heart was after the dog’s death in John Wick.

Laura simply laughed and kicked me straight thru the roof of the Honda. I landed on the roof with a sickening thud and rolled off, hitting the forest floor.

Laura, ever the tease, looked at me thru the window and gave me a come at me signal. “I am a teenage superhero,” I found myself wondering, “how am I terrified and yet so turned on?”

I pulled out my punch daggers and dived right thru the side window.

We traded blows and slashes. She let out a few huffs and groans. She straddled me and begins driving her claws repeatedly, coating the interior with a lovely shade of my blood.

She paused and looked at me in concern, “is that a Glock in your pocket?!”

“I never keep a Glock in there” I laughed before pulling out another gun, “I keep a Desert Eagle!”

Blam! Blam! I fired off several shots at her, one of which hit her rib and the other hit one of her claws.

“That all you got?” She asked me thru gritted teeth.

I grabbed my web gun and shot off several shots, encasing one of her arms in a giant web. She cut right thru it and lunges at me again. She forced us into the remaining back third row. Yeah the Odyssey has three rows. Three rows of get your freak on.

Next thing I knew Laura was looking at me with those brown eyes of hers. It had a mixture of anger and... Wait what was that? Is that lust?!

Well I guess it was. Because the next thing I knew she was driving her claws into the sides of the seats to my left and my right and then she kissed me full on lip lock with teeth hitting mine lip lock. Holy Stan Lee!

Each little growl that escaped her mouth was like a bit of heaven, a symphony to my ears, and quite possibly a fear of hell.

“I…uhh…” my brain tried to comprehend the exact situation that I was going through. It was something so great and yet so terrifying and couldn’t help it intrigue me even more.

“You talk too much” was her only response before she continued her onslaught of kisses. And boy was she right.

She shoved me down onto the remaining back seat, her lips never leaving mine. I began rubbing little circles into her back as the Honda continued rocking back and forth.

It was night by the time we had worked thru all of our differences…and no we did not go any farther than a PG-13 would allow.

Laura nuzzled me, laying against my chest. We shared a bottle of Coke that we found earlier. I gotta admit, besides the whole trying to kill me thing, I could really see a long partnership with her. Both crime fighting and in private.

“I’m sorry” she whispered. “It’s not your fault. The TVA is just the worst.”

“Yeah” I agreed, “sorry I shot you with a Desert Eagle”

Laura simply smirked and held up the bullet before dropping it on the Honda’s floor. “I’ll help you get back home”

“I’ll make sure you have a home to get back to.” I smiled at her and gave her forehead a little kiss.

“Aww” a new voice broke the silence. Laura and I turned to see Deadpool and Wolverine staring at us from outside the Honda.

“Young love” Deadpool chimed in.

OK, so not exactly how I was expecting this whole date to go, but I gotta say turn out better than I thought it would. And what can I say the Honda Odyssey really fucks.

[scoonsalicious]

Unsatisfied, Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: After game night, Bucky promised to ruin you come morning. Unfortunately, it wasn't meant to be.

Warnings: Language, adult themes, Explicit Sexual Content: Minors: GTFO; I don’t serve your kind here (FaceTime sex, hand stuff), Pocket still not being over her trauma, mentions of past injury.

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: Hi, besties!

It's me, ya gurl, with Part 2 of the post-Unwanted one-shot that's become a three-shot, lol! I fucking missed the absolute hell out of these two, and I'm so happy to be back with them for a little bit. Writing for Pocket and her Bucky is just like... I don't know. It's like I'm not even making stuff up, just channeling it, because it comes so easily, unlike literally everything else I try to write. I can't say when I'm going to resume WFLT. To be perfectly candid, I might put it on extended hiatus while I work on other things that seem to come easier right now. I don't know yet. I just want to be up front with everyone.

Here's where my attentions are currently focused: Finishing Unsatisfied, an untitled collab with @mrsbuckybarnes1917, writing Hunted, and plotting Unbroken. For some reason, there is just a giant Gandalf standing between me and WFLT, waving his staff and shouting "YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" I'll let you know when I whip him into the abyss. And yes, that does make me the Balrog in this scenario, and I, too, fall to my death in the depths of Moria. It's an imperfect analogy, okay? At least I'm not Sean Bean, dying all over the place.

Anyway, enjoy more Pocket and Bucky! I know I do! xoxo

“I miss you,” you moaned into the screen of your phone. Your voice sounded pitiful, even to your own ears, but you were lonely and you didn’t have the shame to hide it. Especially not from the man you were talking to.

“I miss you, too, sweets,” Bucky said with a dejected sigh that let you know your feelings of misery were mutual. “It shouldn’t be longer than a few more days, then I’ll come back home to ya, and we can pick up where we left off, yeah?”

You smiled and nodded eagerly, his promise setting your skin awash in goosebumps. ‘Where you’d left off’ had been finally, finally, coming back together after nearly twelve months of self-imposed celibacy, spending the first night together, in your new apartment, wrapped in each other’s arms, with his co—

“At least we got our bubble bath before things went fully to shit,” Bucky added, a smile playing on his lips from across the distance, as though he knew exactly where your thoughts had taken you.

“Yeah,” you sighed, remembering the feel of him, so warm and solid, against your back in the tub. After he’d kicked out your friends from the impromptu game night they’d decided to throw at your new place, and you’d gotten over your freakout when Sam had inadvertently joked about Bucky ‘cheating’ at a card game, the two of you had spent a much needed evening just in each other’s company. Intimacy, but not sex, the way your therapist had recommended, with Bucky promising to ruin you come daybreak. 

Instead, though, a call had come from Fury in the middle of the night. A group of terrorists, counting some several enhanced among them, had stolen a biological weapon and were threatening to decimate the population of Shanghai unless the Chinese government gave into their demands, and so, The Avengers, Bucky included, had been called away.

You’d offered to go, just so you could stay close to him. You’d never even leave the Quinjet, you’d promised, out of the action, but neither Bucky nor Tony was eager to see you back on the field, not after what had happened the last time. Even though you’d had your last reconstructive surgery months ago, and your doctors had given you the all clear, between your boyfriend and your pseudo-brother, you weren’t leaving New York anytime soon.

That had been over a week ago. Negotiations with the terrorists had not gone according to plan, and they were probably going to have to fight it out. And as for you? You were ready to climb the fucking walls.

“How’s wedding stuff going?” Bucky asked, referring to your role as Maid of Honor in Pepper and Tony’s upcoming nuptials. “Keeping you busy?”

“Don’t you dare try to change the subject, Barnes,” you practically growled at him. “I am so fucking desperate for your cock, I swear to god–”

From somewhere off camera, you could hear a cacophony of sound– a combination of Sam and Clint’s uproarious laughter and Tony shouting “JESUS CHRIST BARNES, USE YOUR FUCKING HEADPHONES!”

Bucky’s face had turned crimson in the video call, and you couldn’t suppress the laugh that came bubbling from you as he abruptly stood up and removed himself into a darker, quieter area.

“Shit,” he exhaled as he got himself re-situated in the new, hopefully more private, space. He ran a hand down his face in embarrassment. “Didn’t mean for them to hear all that, doll.”

You laughed as you twisted a strand of hair around your finger in the way you knew he liked. “What happened to your earbuds, baby?” you teased. 

Bucky reached up and pulled an airpod from his ear, looking at the small device as though it had personally offended him. “I thought they were on!” he exclaimed. “If I’d known I’d been broadcasting you for the whole fucking team to hear, I woulda gone somewhere a lot more private to begin with.”

“The whole team?” you asked, cautiously. You didn’t want to say any names, but you needed to know if he was there, too. If he’d heard you.

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed, catching your meaning and lowering his voice. “Rogers is here.”

You swallowed and nodded solemnly. You hadn’t spoken to Steve Rogers since he’d made his horrible confession to you in the hospital, of the ways he’d manipulated your life to keep you and Bucky apart. All culminating in Bucky’s betrayal, your temporary death, the loss of your unborn baby. 

“Are you alright?” you asked, thinking only of Bucky in the moment. It was easy for you to stay away from Steve, to ignore him– your anger toward him had far surpassed any level of fondness you’d once had for Captain America, but you knew how much harder it was for Bucky to break a bond of nearly a century. Not that you would have ever forbidden him from reconnecting with Steve, if that was what he had wanted. No, Bucky had decided on his own that some things couldn’t be forgiven. No matter how many decades of friendship might lie behind them.

“Yeah,” he sighed, though you could tell from the look in his eyes that it was harder for him than he was letting on. “It’s awkward, but if we keep it strictly to business, it’s manageable. It’s just…” He rubbed the back of his neck, and you wished so badly that you could be there to smooth the lines from his distraught face. “It’s just… sometimes he makes it hard to remember what he did.”

You nodded, feeling guilty that you were the reason the two were no longer friends. That Steve had betrayed Bucky because of his desire for you. 

“Don’t go blaming yourself, sweets,” Bucky chastised you knowingly. It was like he could read your mind. You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off with a look. “I know how that pretty head works, doll, and I know you’re blaming yourself. Stop it. He made his own bed, now he gets to lie in it.”

“I know,” you lamented. “I just hate that you have to pay the emotional cost of his bad decisions, that’s all.”

Bucky frowned at you. “Just like I hate how you had to pay the costs for mine, doll,” he said softly. “Our actions have consequences. We have to live with them, so we don’t make the same fuck ups again.��

You subconsciously let your hand drift to your abdomen, your fingers delicately tracing over the scar that was the only external reminder that you’d been shot. Had technically been killed. Had lost a lot more than your life. You were grateful Bucky could only see you from the chest up.

“Well, this conversation took a turn,” you said, trying to get off of subjects you’d rather not dwell on. “Can we go back to talking about how fucking horny I am for you?”

Bucky barked out a laugh and god, how it warmed your heart that you could still get that reaction out of him after everything you’d both gone through. His blue eyes seemed to darken as he adjusted himself in whatever seat he was in. “If it helps, I’m horny as hell for you, too, sweetheart.”

“Oh yeah?” you asked, tugging on your bottom lip with your teeth as he nodded his head. “Yeah, hearing that does help. Show me.”

Bucky’s eyes widened through the screen. “Show you?” he breathed, clearly not having anticipated where you were about to take the conversation. “What do you mean, ‘show you’, doll?”

“I mean,” you said, leaning back against the headboard to make yourself more comfortable, “show me that pretty cock of yours, Sergeant. Take it out. Stroke it for me. I wanna see what I’ve been missing.”

You watched as Bucky’s eyes went back and forth between the phone screen and the door that separated him from the rest of the team. You could tell from the way he was gnawing at his bottom lip that he was seriously debating it, but that he had some real reservations. “Doll,” he whispered, sounding scandalized, but excited, “they’re right outside. They’ll hear me.”

You smirked at the way he’d suddenly become shy. “I wanna hear you, Sarge,” you pleaded in a breathy whisper, and from the way he closed his eyes and moaned at your words, you knew he was so close to giving you what you wanted. “Come on, baby,” you cooed. “Can’t you show Pocket that pretty pink cock she’s been wanting so badly? Can’t I watch you choke it with your big hands while I imagine my mouth wrapped around it? Pozhaluysta, Soldat?”

“Fuck,” he muttered, and you knew you’d won when he hopped up from where he’d been sitting. Though you couldn’t see it from the way he was letting the phone dangle, you could hear him lock the door. “You know I can’t resist it when you speak Russian, doll,” he said as he sat back down, propping the phone and its camera up against something so that you could see his entire body stretched out before you. 

“YA rasschityval na eto, detka,” you said with a grin. I was counting on it, baby. You could see now that he was in a bedroom of what looked like a standard SHIELD safehouse. It was small– only one twin-sized bed, so you weren’t worried about anyone else barging in to need the space. 

“So, how do we do this?” he asked, and you could hear the nervousness mixed with excitement in his voice. It struck you that, throughout your relationship, and all the time you’d spent apart while one or the other was away on missions, the two of you had actually never done this before. Phone sex, yeah, but never on video, together. It was going to be new territory, and it thrilled you. 

“We?” you asked playfully, pretending you had no idea what he was talking about. 

Bucky looked at you sternly though the screen of your phone and you involuntarily shivered under his gaze. “Don’t think for a second I’m not going to see that sweet, dripping cunt of yours tonight, doll. I’ve been fantasizing about it for ages. Got just a taste of it the other day, and it wasn’t nearly enough.”

Fuck, you could feel yourself dampen and your nipples harden just from his words alone, not to mention the memory of the brief moment on your terrace, before the movers had arrived, when he’d had his deliciously thick fingers pressed inside of you.

“Baby,” you moaned, not even realizing you were trailing your fingertips over the pebbled flesh of your breasts under your shirt, imagining his rough, calloused hands on you. 

“Take off your clothes, Pocket,” Bucky growled. He didn’t ask; it wasn’t a request. It was a command, and you were ready to obey. 

“Sir, yes sir, Sergeant,” you said, and you were sure you looked anything but graceful as you sped to pull your top over your head and shimmy out of the pair of cheeky panties you wore. The cool breeze of the air conditioning danced along your flushed skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Fuck,” Bucky groaned, his eyes following the path your fingers traced along the contours of your body. You watched hungrily as he absentmindedly palmed himself through the Tac pants he still frustratingly donned. “God, you look even better‘n I remember, sweets,” he grunted. “Better than I’ve been imaginin’ all week. How the fuck’s that even possible?”

“Buck,” you warned, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment at his obviously false praise as you turned to hide your face from his gaze. “Stop. I know you don’t mean that.”

Frowning, Bucky leaned forward, picking up the phone so he could bring his face close to the camera, scrutinizing you. “Pocket,” he said, but you refused to look at him. “Pocket!” he tried again, his voice a little firmer, but still gentle. “Why the fuck would I not mean that, sweetheart? You’re gorgeous.”

Scoffing, you rolled your eyes. It was kind of him to lie to spare your feelings, really, but you didn’t think you could take it. Not from him. Not after everything. Without thought, your hand moved to cover your bullet wound from his gaze. “Come on, Buck,” you said, your tone implying that you weren’t buying his bullshit, no matter how sweetly he was selling it, “we both know you weren’t imagining me with all these new scars.”

“Baby.” Bucky made a noise somewhere between a choked laugh and an incredulous groan. “You can’t seriously think I, of all fucking people, give a shit about a couple of tiny scars?” He put the phone down, and your view of him was obstructed for a moment while you heard the rustle of cloth. When he lifted it up again, you saw he had taken off his vest and Tac shirt. He pointed to the ruined skin of his left shoulder.

“Look at these and tell me you think I’m gonna be turned off by a coupla’ scars, Pocket,” he said, and you could detect the hard edge to his voice. 

“It’s different, Buck,” you told him, your voice cracking. “You already had those scars when we met; they were a part of the man I fell in love with. You…” you hastily wiped at the tear that was suddenly threatening to fall from your eye. “Mine… mine weren’t. You didn’t get a choice in them.”

You watched as the look on Bucky’s face morphed into one of pure confusion. Of course he didn’t fully understand– you weren’t just talking about scars, after all. He… just didn’t realize that yet.

“You didn’t have a choice in them, either, sweetheart,” he said softly, eying the way your hand protectively rested over your abdomen. “And if you’re talking about the scar from when you got shot… well, fuck, if that scar’s not my favorite thing.”

You looked at him in wide-eyed disbelief. “How could this… disgusting reminder…” you choked out, “of everything that happened last year… how could that be your favorite thing, Bucky?”

“That scar means you’re alive, doll,” he told her. “That you’re still breathing, still with me, in spite of all of it. So forgive me if I think that makes it the fucking sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You closed your eyes and exhaled, his words momentarily taking away the sting of the inadequacy you’d felt ever since the doctors had told you about the extent of your condition. It wasn’t something you were purposefully keeping from Bucky… You had just been too terrified to say it out loud. You were going to tell him. Just not yet.

"Look at me Doll,” he said, getting your attention back onto his face, “I don't like that I have to tell you this at all, but I'm gonna do it, as many times as you need, as many times as it takes for you to believe me. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."

You felt your face soften, the tension of insecurity drop from your shoulders as he looked at you through the phone screen, eyes blue pools of adoration. You wanted so badly to just get lost in him, to let him consume you until you were capable of thinking of nothing but him. 

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“It’s something more than just the scar, isn’t it, sweets? You’ve never been ashamed of showing me your body before.” You weren’t vain as a rule, and Bucky knew this about you. You had other scars, worse ones. Uglier ones, but none had ever bothered you the way this one had. None had ever carried the same degree of psychological and emotional baggage. 

You just nodded, afraid that if you spoke, you’d reveal what you’d been keeping from him, blurt it out before you could stop yourself, and it was not the kind of thing you wanted to do over video with thousands of miles of distance between you.

“You don’t have to tell me, doll,” he said, the understanding in his voice so pure that it made you ache. “I know so many of my actions have hurt you; I get that there’s still some trust–”

“Baby, no,” you interrupted. “I trust you, I do. I want to tell you. I’m just… not ready yet.”

“Tell me what I can do for you right now, then, sweetheart,” he offered. He’d brought the phone close to his face, his gaze on you intense and burning through the screen. “What do you need?”

You exhaled, the sight of him so focused and sincere making your knees feel weak. “Just you, Buck,” you whispered, the words coming out in a breathy sigh. “I just want you.”

“I’m right here, doll.” His voice turned low, darker. A soft purr that vibrated your insides. “And I’ll be home with you real soon, but you gotta tell me what I can do for you right. now.”

You sucked in a shuddering gasp of air, indulging in the way his words swept over your body like a languid kiss. Without even thinking, you felt your hand drift down your abdomen, your fingertips dancing along the top of your thigh.

“Buck,” you found yourself whining as you squirmed your ass across the mattress, searching for any inch of friction you could find. 

“Yeah, baby,” he grunted, readjusting the camera so it was once again propped up and you could see the length of him pressing against the material of his tac-pants. “Tell Sergeant Barnes what you want so he can give it to you.”

A beat of silence passed between you before you both started laughing, your hand coming to cover your face as you suppressed a snort. “Oh my god, Barnes!” you wheezed.

“Yeah, that was awful,” he laughed, palming his face in embarrassment. “Did I kill it?”

You wiped away a stray tear that had leaked from your eye in your laughter. “You’re lucky I find your bad jokes to be such a fucking turn on,” you told him with a grin. 

Bucky frowned. “Wasn’t supposed to be a joke, doll,” he grumbled, a pout forming on his beautiful pink lips. “‘S supposed to be sexy.”

“Oh, I found it very sexy,” you assured him. “You make me laugh, Barnes. That’s the hottest fucking thing I can imagine. Now take off your pants.”

The look in Bucky’s eyes turned from playfully annoyed to seductively heated in the space of a nanosecond. He reached for the zipper of his tac-pants and you licked your lips at the sound of it coming undone. “Get the camera all set up, doll,” he said as he shimmied the pants down his legs. “I want to see every inch of you.”

With a grin, you propped your camera up between your legs, giving Bucky a front row seat to your dripping core. “This work for you, Sarge?” you asked.

“Fuck, sweets,” he began, palming at himself through his boxer-briefs. “Yeah, that works for me.”

“Show me,” you commanded him, bringing your fingers down to lightly trace the outer edges of your lower lips. “Show me how well this view works for you, baby.”

Bucky scrambled to pull his boxer briefs down to his thick thighs, and you watched with bated breath as his cock sprung free, its beautiful, pink tip already glistening with precum. Your entire body erupted in tingles at the sight of him. He was so fucking gorgeous, and he was yours.

“Jesus,” you hissed, bringing a hand to your breast and gently squeezing the flesh. You could feel your mouth thicken with saliva at just the idea of having him down your throat.

“Just Bucky’s fine, baby,” he teased as he grabbed a hold of himself, and you rolled your eyes. “No need to bring God into it.” Slowly, he began stroking his length. You watched in awe as he seemed to grow harder with every downward pull, the veins in his thighs bulging as he thrust his hips up against his hand. If anyone was going to be compared to God during sex, it would and should be Bucky Barnes.

“Touch that pretty clit for me, doll,” he grunted. “Pretend it’s my fingers on you, getting you all warmed up to take my cock.”

“Fuck, Buck,” you whimpered, your fingers moving frantically over your bundle of nerves. You were already soaked; just the sight of him had sent another wave of arousal gushing through you. “Want your dick in my pussy so bad, baby. So fucking bad, it hurts.”

“Soon, sweetheart,” he grunted, watching your fingers strum your clit with wild eyes. “I’ll be home soon, and I’ll fill you up so good, you won’t be able to walk normal for weeks.”

You arched your back and moaned, the memory of the way he stretched you as he entered you, opening you wider than any other man you’d ever had, flooded your mind. “Nothing fills me like you do, baby,” you panted. “Nothing hits me so deep.”

“Yeah?” he grunted, and you could hear the delicious slick, slick sound of his hand moving through the precum that soaked his shaft. “Not even those fancy toys you bought?”

Bucky chuckled when he noticed your eyes pop open and stare at him in surprise. “Oh, I know all about those, doll.” Slick, slick, slick. “Found ‘em when I was helping you pack for the move. All of them.”

You felt a blush rising to your cheeks, and if you didn’t already have your hand on your pussy right in front of him, you might have been embarrassed. “All those toys, and none of them gets me off as good as you do, Buck,” you breathed. “None of them reach that spot the way you do.” It was true– it was the one thing you had desperately searched for during your time of Bad Decisions– someone to hit that place deep inside of you that set your every nerve ending on fire, that made you shiver and convulse with pleasure with each thrust. No one had ever brought on that full body climax that left you shaking and weak like Bucky had. 

“Fuck, doll,” he grunted. “No one touches your A-spot but me.”

“No,” you gasped. You loved how he knew your body so well, knew what he did to you, how you longed for his touch. “No one touches me like you, baby.” 

“Put your fingers in, sweets,” he commanded. “I wanna watch you fuck yourself on that pretty little hand while I pretend it’s my cock.”

You did as he asked, bringing two fingers to your weeping entrance and plunging them inside you. They would never feel as thick or go as deep as any part of Bucky, but for now, they were all you had, so you made the most of them, driving them in and out of your cunt with abandon. 

“Fuck…” you grunted as you felt the coil in your belly begin to tighten, sweat glistening off your brow. “Baby!”

“I know, pretty girl,” Bucky said between grunts of his own. “Tell me how good you feel.”

“So good, Buck,” you moaned. “So fucking good. Want you so bad, Bucky! So fucking bad!”

“I’m right there with you, doll,” he panted. “I’m so close. Gonna blow all over and imagine it’s inside that pretty pussy of yours. Gonna come home and bury myself in your cunt, sweets! Not gonna come out for days!”

“Oh shit, Bucky,” you cried, your release a hare's breath away. “Wanna cum with you, baby.” You curled your fingers inside of you, stroking your G-spot again, and again, trying to imagine it was his thick, calloused fingers inside of you. 

“Just a little longer, sweetheart.” Bucky was yanking at his member now, his pace quick and frantic. 

You felt yourself rising, clawing to the very edge of the precipice, but before you could hurl yourself over the edge, you accidentally hit your phone with your foot, sending it falling to the floor.

You scrambled for the phone. It had landed face-down in the dark, making it harder for you to find, but you followed the sounds of Bucky’s grunts and moans until you made contact. Turning the phone back over, you watched as Bucky, eyes screwed closed, reached his peak, ropes of cum erupting from the tip of his cock and landing across his stomach and hand. 

And, as surely as if someone had doused you with a bucket of water, the spell was broken. You were painfully reminded that he wasn’t there with you. He was half a world away, still out of your reach. 

You sniffled, and Bucky opened his eyes at the sound. “Sweetheart,” he began, his voice laced with concern, “what’s wrong? Did you cum?”

You hitched a breath, holding back a sob, and shook your head. “You’re not here, Buck,” you cried. “It’s not… I thought… I just want to be with you. I miss you so fucking much!” You knew you sounded petulant, like a child, but you were at your limit, truly. You wanted nothing more than to be back to normal with him. A better normal, even, now without the shadow of Carthage looming over you both.

“Oh, doll.” Bucky picked up his phone and brought it close to his face, his now flaccid cock out of frame. “Baby, I’m so sorry. Do you wanna try again? We can focus just on you. Make sure you get off nice and good.”

You shook your head, feeling the tears of frustration and longing slide down your cheeks. “No,” you 

whimpered. “I think… I think I just wanna go to sleep.”

Bucky frowned at you, the look in his eyes sorrowful. “I fucking hate that I’m too far away to help you, Pocket,” he said. “I can’t stand seeing you like this, knowing you’re hurting.”

“It’s just been so long, Buck,” you whispered to him as you buried yourself under the blankets of your bed. “I feel like every time we even try, something keeps getting in our way. What if it’s the universe, trying to tell us we shouldn’t be getting back together?”

Bucky sighed, thick and heavy. “I know you don’t believe that, sweetheart,” he said. “It’s just been some bad timing; we got out of our groove, is all. I promise, things will go back to the way they were. The way they’re supposed to be.”

Not long ago, you told him that his promises didn’t mean shit to you, but now… now, you wanted to believe him more than anything.

“It’s just a little longer,” he clarified.  You nodded, swallowing down any remaining tears that threatened to fall. You wanted to believe him. You needed to believe him, but the part of you that had been irrevocably broken when he’d hurt you couldn’t help but whisper that, maybe, in some way, he’d always leave you unsatisfied.

<- Part 1 / Part 3 ->

[herbatalover]

Hello, hope your having a good day/night?

I dont know if your still taking requests but if you are could I request HH Arthur Morgan x LH Male S/O

A/N: I'm sick, so I might write more fanfics now. Hopefully you'll enjoy <3 I'm sorry if it's not what you had in mind!

HH Arthur Morgan x LH Male Reader

"Crazy bastard"

You were sitting by the fire late at night, drowning your sorrows in some whiskey. It was the usual time where dark thoughts came over you. You were a bad man. A horrible one. You lived a bad life. Not by choice... You had to adapt to the life you were thrown into.

Taken in by a strange couple and their unruly son when you were just a kid. Saved from getting shop by an angry shop lifter. What an interesting day.

"Hand them over boy..." The man growled at you. You hugged the two cans of beans closer to you, glaring at him. You were desperate, starving. You didn't know how to use a gun, how to hunt, so you had to steal. This time however, you got unlucky.

"Piss off" you hissed at him. The man looked furious, pulling a gun out, pointing at you. You froze, feeling like a caged animal. Nowhere to go, getting killed over some food... Not exactly how you wanted to die. Your pa would be disappointed.

No, he'd be disappointed if you gave up. You won't. You held the cans tighter, only raising one hand slowly. The man watched you, hoping you'll pass the cans over to him, and instead was greeted with a middle finger. You gave him a grin.

"I am not dying yet partner" you pushed down the fear, getting ready for a bullet. If you're going to die, then at least with some honor.

There was a gunshot.

But the bullet never came. Instead, the man fell on his knees, wide eye, blood slowly leaving his mouth. He fell on the ground, face first. You looked at him confused before noticing a hole in the back of his head. There was a quiet chuckle behind him.

"Nice work Arthur" said a black haired man, you soon-to-be leader, walking over the man, approaching you. "Now who do we have here?"

From that day on you joined Dutch's boys, becoming their second son. You grew close with Arthur, akward conversation turning into late night talks. But, it wasn't a family you hoped for.

You killed many people. Men, women, children sometimes too. Robbed people, both wealthy and poor. Became an errand boy, especially when Herr Strauss joined, having to go around collecting debts. Beating the crying people who begged for mercy.

You were there when the Backwater mess happened. When John got brought back from being torn apart by wolves. When they brought the woman, Mrs. Adler and the "not O'Driscoll" in. When they brought Sean back home.

And now you were stuck near Rhodes, staring at the fire, thinking how your life would look if you'd try to be a good man. If you tried to behave. If you didn't stole those damn beans.

You got up, sighing heavily, feeling the alcohol go into your blood. You headed over to your tent, passing Dutch. You could've stayed quiet, but something pushed you to open your mouth.

"There he is... When are we going to Tahiti, boss?" You scoffed at him, only to get a confused look. You narrowed your eyes "we both know you plan is bullshit, so how about you tell everyone the truth that we're fucked?" You growled. Dutch, now turning irritated turned to you.

"Cut it out, son. I get you're stressed, but we don't need that right now."

"oh I ain't stressed... I'm just seeing clearly" you grinned, but got yanked away to the side. You blinked confused and turned to yell at whoever grabbed you, until you realized it was your beloved Arthur Morgan.

"What are you doing Y/N?" He frowned and looked at Dutch with a sigh "he's been drinking again.... Don't mind him. You'll work it out, you always do" he nodded to him, pulling you away. You rolled your eyes, pushing him away, yet going in the same direction he was pulling you to - his tent.

"Why do you have to lick everyone's ass?" You muttered, walking in. Arthur frowned, following you.

"We're in a tough situation, no need to steer up more commotion" he walked closer to you. You turned to him, glaring at him.

"Of course, because you're the high and mighty Arthur 'Perfect Son' Morgan, aren't you?!"

He looked at you surprised. To be honest, you yourself wasn't quite sure where that came from.

You loved him. He was the love of your life, you'd never hurt him. But you were jealous. Jealous about how he was better than you. How he was nice to everyone, how they all adored him. How he got smiles and pats on the back while you got scowls and scoffs. You were a bad man, you knew that. But you wanted to be adored. To be known.

Yet being nice seemed to be pathetic.

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows, placing his hand on your cheek. You let out a quier sigh, turning your head away. He was looking at you a bit, then cupped your face, turning to him.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing" you pushed his hands away "go be adored. Go find someone who won't ruin your reputation. Go suck everyone's dick so they love you"

"The hell are you talking about?" He laughed, but stopped, noticing you were serious. He frowned, taking your jaw, turning your head to face him.

"I am not leaving you."

"I'm not good for you, Arthur!" You glare at him. "I'm a monster! A good for nothing killer, I don't deserve you, I'm not good for you!"

"Horseshit" the man rolled his eyes. "You're perfect for me"

"I'm not! Maybe you're perfect, but I-" you couldn't even finish because Arthur captured your lips in a soft kiss. You wanted to push him off, but sighed, melting into it. He snickered quietly to which he earned a hit (more of a tap) on the chest. He slowly broke the kiss, looking you in the eyes.

"That's not true" he smiled. "You're everything I could ask for"

You were staring at him quietly, before burying your face in his chest.

"... You smell like cigarettes" you changed the subject. You always did when you got embarrassed or didn't want to face the truth. He sighed softly, petting your head.

You stayed like this for a bit, before you could hear his voice again, jumping a bit as you didn't expect it.

"Hey Y/N?"

"Yes?"

"Have you had the dark thoughts again?" He placed his head on top of yours, petting you softly. You blinked.

".... Maybe a bit"

"You know what it means~" he hummed, one of his hands sliding down, grabbing your ass. You tensed up surprised before chuckling quietly.

"Crazy bastard...."

[hunterscoffee]

I'm going to bed.

I'm going to bed.

I'm going to bed.

I'm going to bed.

I'm going to bed.

I'm reading fanfiction...

[streets-in-paradise]

A Man of Honor - Odysseus x Trojan Princess!Reader

Troy 2004 Oneshot

Requested by @alysinwonderland-at-tea

"Ok ok ok, so..... here's the idea.

Odysseus, with the younger sister of Paris and Hector, like she gets captured because she bought Briesis time to run. She fought off some of the men but couldn't get all of them. Anyway, quite like the movie scene, Agammenon "gives" her to the men to "play with" (throws her to the wolves). But instead of Achilles rescuing her, it's Odysseus. He suggests that hurting her would not be in their best interest because she is the princess of Troy, and if they harm her its gonna be really bad for them. Anyway, the reader falls for him because he's so honorable. Idk man, he seems honorable, and men with honor got me"

Sure, dear!! My twist on the concept is a bit fluffier, but hope you will enjoy it anyways.

Warnings: Kidnap, Agamemnon and Menelaus being creeps, threats and an attempt of sexual assault ( stopped by Odysseus), age gap.

Note: For this i'm pretending he is single, simply because i don't picture Odysseus as a cheater.

Tags: @yerevasunclair

The gathering of the kings celebrating the first greek victory of the war finished abruptly because Agamemnon of Mycenae, supreme commander of the forces, wanted to scold his rebel soldier. Used to act as intermediate between them, Odysseus of Ithaca intended to follow the matter closely. He was the last one leaving the tent, trying to prepare Achilles for the meeting hoping he wouldn't loose his temper again. Sensically suspicious of the situation, he waited outside pretending he cared to talk with the guards of the mycenaean king.

A good amount of them were watching over a girl, likely a spoil from the looting of the temple. Two aspects of that scene got the sharp observational skills of the ithacan king on alert. The first one, knowing that the myrmidon leader would never handle a prisoner of war to a man he often adressed as an old pig. Second, that the escort was too great to watch over her. There were way to many men gathered arround her.

" Don't you all have orders to follow?" He mocked them in a friendly tone. " Just two of you would be enough, she is clearly going nowhere. "

The cleverly delivered callout brought a half smile from her, and in a closer look Odysseus noticed that her eyes were more vivacious than normal for a captive.

There was still fire in her glance, a sign of life.

" The myrmidons warned us to watch out, they say she fought bravely for her freedoom. " One of the mycenaeans informed him. " We brought her for the King, she is the treasure he has choosen."

No flicker of fear in her face as she was hearing her fate, what made Odysseus wonder if she was too brave or completely unaware of the dangers coming at her.

" Two were actually left in charge, the rest are just watching." She commented him. " They won't stop talking about how pretty they find me."

He felt as if he was being invited to share an opinion on the matter, probably being tested by her because she wanted to know if he would hurt her.

" A young slave as beautifull as you must worth more than everything I keep in my tent." He joked in return. " Even if Troy would be sacked tomorrow, like Agamemnon hopes, none of this men would afford to have one like you. They know it, so consider their vulgar admiration a reflection of their powerlessness. "

It wasn't enough to work as comfort, but she didn't mind.

" I don't mind, as long as they won't touch me."

Her pridefullness was out of place, as if she tried to prove she was still weilding some sort of authority she may have had in the past.

" Sadly, I think that's the first thing Agamemnon would want to do." Odysseus informed her, trying to do what he considered was waking her up to the new reality. " ... You were lucky of not being exhibited in front of all the other leaders in the celebration, he likes to brag about his prizes."

The latter comment seemed to have offended her, she even dared to give a few temptative steps in his direction to verbally fight back.

" I'm not a prize, I'm a hostage. " She quickly corrected. " And I'm ready to bargain the terms of my liberation."

The mycenaeans laughed, but Odysseus could tell she was being serious because the fire of her eyes could have burned him alive. Unfortunately, he couldn't keep interrogating her because the men in charge were called to bring her inside.

He watched her following them calmly and couldn't help smiling. Partially, because he wished he could ease such horrible moment for her, but also given how impressed he remained of her attitude. As if she already knew that Agamemnon wanted to see her humilliated, she quickly put together what was left of her honor and dignity walking inside with the grace of a royal.

It was in that moment when the clever king of Ithaca discovered that you, new treasure of the mycenaean king, could be hidding something of importance. After Achilles stormed out of the place he was too angry to acceed any questioning, so his curiosity had to wait a little longer.

During that first encounter you couldn't tell exactly who he was, but you knew he had some sort of authority over men due to how they listened to him. However, his way with words was astonishingly pragmatical. To them, he sounded like a friend making healthy advices before a greater power figure could reprimand them and, to you, like a fair ruler. Never taunting your anger like Achilles did, or threatening you like you later discovered was custom of Agamemnon.

Nightfall was the dealbreaker of your fate, signaled time for the accomplishment of the dark promises he made to you. After having dinner, he would make you give him a bath to later have his way with you. Playing wise with your only advantage to save yourself, you waited untill then to start the negociations.

The king's table had guests, more commanders that you didn't know. When his brother heard that you were the only daughter of King Priam, everything seemed lost. A third leader arrived to hear the very stubborn brothers discuss what would be the most efficient way to make you suffer instead of accepting your more wise proposal of a bargain with your family.

Awareness of his coming silenced their wicked planning, like if they suspected he would have a say against that.

" Odysseus! " Agamemnon saluted him. " Welcome, old friend! "

You recognized the kind man and his friendly smile, paying high that short distraction. The King of Sparta tried to grab you from behind and forcefully sit you on his lap. Reflexes reacted fast and you fought him, but in the scape you accidentally stumbled with the newcomer.

He catched you gently, holding your shoulders so you won't fall.

" Forgive me, ... Odysseus." You inmediately responded, your voice turning slightly sweeter with the pronunciation of his name, then moved away after finding balance. " ... Please, take a seat. I'll get you some roasted meat from King Agamemnon's feast."

He smiled in polite agreement, but the calm enviroment didn't last long.

" GET BACK HERE, TROJAN WHORE!" Menelaus complained, angry because you didn't behaved with the docility he expected. " YOU WILL PAY FOR WHAT YOUR BROTHER DID TO ME! "

You refused to move and swallowed hard, then replied.

" Your wife's choices aren't of my concern, but become more understandable to me with the display of your brutal manners."

Your refined insults amused Agamemnon, who thought that your flamboyant manners were hilarious.

" ... A trojan princess. Can you believe our luck? " He commented to the freshly arrived king. " My brother wants to go first, reparations for his honor. "

Odysseus was frankly horrified by the scene, there was no honor in the sort of justice that Menelaus seeked.

" It's a terrible idea. If you hurt her, this girl could become a symbol even more powerfull than Helen. "

" I told them, but they won't listen. " You interrupted him. " King Menelaus doesn't understand the concept of bargain, perhaps you can explain it to him."

You shouldn't have say that, but the presence of the ithacan made you feel safer as the anger of Menelaus keep growing.

" YOU INSOLENT LITTLE .... "

Odysseus gave him a path on the shoulder right before claiming his sit.

" My friend, calm down! She is just a girl, maybe even young enough to be your daughter. " He minimized your insults for you. " And, unfortunately, she is right. Having her is too riskfull and we can't allow more reckless mistakes. "

You realized he was subtly referencing the fight of Agamemnon and Achilles, what made you stiffle a chuckle in reminder.

" Postpone your vengeance for the right targets. " He concluded, deviating the topic. " You are here to kill Paris, not to take advantage of his little sister. "

The excellently delivered speech was enough to calm him, but not to make him desist.

" Odysseus, you are a good friend, but the use I will give to my brother's slave is not your problem. "

" ... Not yet wed, certainly untouched. " Agamemnon provoked him. " Pretty virgin princess will make for a fine revenge. "

You spat on the ground, a wordless curse, but that only increased the hate of the spartan king.

" I can't wait to taste you ... And tomorrow, I will tell your brother exactly how i had broken you. "

Terrified in the inside, you still won't let him knew it.

" Before you would get to finish bragging the sword of Hector would have already pierced you. " You recalled, as serious as if you would be sentencing him to death. " He wont care about your hurted honor if your sense of justice damages his siblings. He tossed our familiar honor to the sea to save Paris' life once, we are fighting this war because of that. "

Your elocuency was the surprise of the night, the King of Ithaca was very attentive to your words.

" It's true, Paris had no honor proceeding the way he did, but if you force me you give up your right to claim you are the victim here because that's not the justice of an honorable man. " You bravely kept exhorting the spartan king to save yourself. " Your mistreated wife, who not all trojans simpatize with, will win credibility. "

Odysseus began to chuckle, a subtle expression of pride.

" Right again, your highness! " He pointed out. " The ruin of your virtue would unify trojans at the precise moment we are on the edge of loosing Achilles. The Kings should respect you, not even because that would be the action of an honorable man. From the most selfish standpoint, it's still the wisest solution. "

Agamemnon evaluated the advice with disdain. The goal of unifying greeks against a common enemy was an essential part of his plan. Previous attempts of presenting Helen as a victim of kidnap had failed, everyone knew she ran away on her own and the moral approach changed. She was a whore who left her husband, but you were an innocent virgin dragged away from a temple.

A perfect victim, everything in that story highlighted your purity and a direct threat to it could cause a response even more violent than than Paris taking Helen did.

" May you care to suggest us what to do with her then, Odysseus? " He sarcastically critiziced. " Giving her to you, perhaps? I won't fall for your trickery if what you want is fooling me into gifting you a prize that was too fine for Achilles. "

You hide your face using your hair so he won't see your excited reaction to hearing he could want to take you out from that tent.

" Offer her hospitality, show her that we are not savages. " Odysseus simply proposed. " Menelaus should also work on his impersonation of an honorable man wanting his wife back. We are all here claiming to be victims because of him and the control of this narrative gives our army a moral advantage. If he turns Paris into the savior of a frightened Helen escaping the brutality of her husband, this motivation falls apart. An insulted king who demmands justice can't brag revenge forcing himself on the virgin princess captured while she was innocently praying for the salvation of her homeland."

You directed a triumphal smirk to the youngest of the despicable kings, but Odysseus warned you against that with an impercepible glance.

" Do you play any table games, little one? " He asked you right away, resolving for everyone else. " My favorite way of getting to know someone is learning how they think."

You couldn't believe your ears because the kind offer seemed so out of place.

" Table games? After this two were deliverating on who should hurt me first and what would be more painfull, you offer me to play games with you? " You repeated, in disbelief. " You are a strange man, King of Ithaca, ... but quite lovely. "

To your even greater surprise, he even helped the greek servants on settling you a spot where you could be comfortable. The disgusting brothers gave him freedoom of action because they believed he was up to something, a scheme of the kind he often used to save them many times before. They respected his opinions allowing him to treat you kindly so they wouldn't have to do it themselves. Agamemnon suspected he wanted to make you talk for them, but nothing you were saying was of any importance for him.

The trickster king was deceiving them, making them suspect a deeper reason for his comfort of the unlucky, but beautifull princess. To some extent, he was even deceiving himself pretending he would only do it because winning your trust could be usefull, yet you had awakened enough curiosity for it to be a bit personal.

After a while, it became obvious that you enjoyed the company of the smartest leader arround. He was a smoother, more interesting talker than the pigs surrounding you. If you would have been in front of your father's table instead, he would have easily enraptured all the attention of your relatives as he had gained yours. Odysseus ruled a kingdom of poor sailors, but he had travelled everywhere, and he gave you a good moment sharing some of his stories. During the hours he spent there that night, you were able to escape from your sadness even at the moments he wasn't paying direct attention to you.

If that dinner would have taken place in Troy, Paris would have teased you for staring at him for too long while Hector would have scolded you both and warned that significally older man to stay away from you. That was fun to imagine, but you had to remind yourself that he was still your enemy. Perhaps the most dangerous, for how well spoken and handsome he appeared to you. Harder to hate, specially because you couldn't take your eyes off him.

Before leaving to get rest in his own tent, his farewell to you was a kiss on your knuckes that showed he still respected you as a princess. It made you blush furiously, mostly because you thought that kind of consideration was lost to you arround greeks.

Menelaus noticed your reaction and, as his brother accompanied the king outside, let you know of that.

" Turns out you do like older men." He commented, in a falsely cassual tone. " Is that how your brother got my wife to spread her legs for him, or only his looks did the work?"

Everything he said was always so repulsive, you seriously couldn't imagine how Helen managed to stay by his side for so long.

" You are not bad looking, for a man of your age. Neither is your brother ... You are just horrible people. " Was your honest reply. " Paris has seduced married women everywhere, but all the others stayed with their husbands because they gave them reasons. Fear of death was all Helen had with you, and when she lost it, she left. "

The answer surprised him, perhaps because your explanation of what happened resembled nothing he had ever heard.

" You have a strange wisdown, hard to explain in such young girl. I'm hearing you speak so lightly of things I never cared to see. " He oddly praised you, then sipped more of his wine. " When I was a child, our mother cheated on our father with our uncle. Agamemnon, being the eldest, had more awareness of what was happening. Ask him about what Atreus did to the cheaters and you will find out we are not so horrible. "

" Being less horrible than your father is not the great, comforting excuse you think it is. " You warned him in return. " A good man would have came here peacefully, presented his complaint in the city's council, and maybe ask for a private talk with his wife offering her actual reasons that could make her want to go back home. You are an evil man posing as a victim, and your thirst for vengeance will bring your doom. "

Dark chucking interrumpted you, Agamemnon was back inside.

" Nobody told us the princess of Troy was a seer! " He mocked you. " I have another prophecy for you: tomorrow, I will take over your city and my brother will kill yours. "

" You don't know Hector, or how far he can go to protect his family." You insisted one last time. " Your brother is a fool, he will get himself killed trying to kill Paris. "

" Hector is a man of honor. " Menelaus pointed out. " He will understand that Paris had to die."

You directed him a cold look, as if life would have started to abandon him.

" His honor won't protect you from his rage of brother. "

It was the last time you spoke to him, and the last moment you saw him alive. Exactly as you warned, the king perished by the hand of Hector, who saved Paris while he was begging for his life. You never imagined it would happen so fast, because you weren't prophetizing. Knowing your family so well made you suspect it would be a matter of time untill the rage of Menelaus would be forever stopped by your protective eldest brother.

Still, they weren't there to save you from the rage of brother displayed by the mycenaean king. You were all he had to damage Hector, since even the result of the battle turned against him. The only pain he could inflict on him that night was hurting you, but he decided he wasn't going to be the man doing it.

Odysseus noticed your absense on the tent during the gathering of the war council, at first thinking it was due to the needed secrecy that the discussion of strategy required.

" Where is she? "

The answer Agamemnon had for him overpassed any expected cruelty coming from him.

" I gave her to the men ... They need some amusement after today. "

Careless for the thoughts of anyone else on that meeting, he stormed out searching for you. It was clear that the King of Kings wanted to unleash over you a vengeance even worse than the one Menelaus considered before.

More humilliating than warming the bed of a king was becoming the whore of his troops.

Odysseus was guided by the sound of the complict mocks of the very same men who one day before observed you as some unattainable luxury item. Temporally forgetting their looses, they were cheerfully bragging on how they were about to feast on you.

Despite you presented a good fight, they were too many. Their hands roaming you with desperation and trying to tear your clothes off in the process.

" STOP, YOU FOOLS! " The strong voice of the King of Ithaca interrupted the horrible scene. " YOUR KING HAS SENT YOU TO DO HIS VENGEANCE FOR HIM BECAUSE HE KNOWS THAT WHOEVER TOUCHES HER WILL BE A DEAD MAN! "

A few of them reacted, but two were still holding you and Odysseus spoke directly to them.

" Do you even know who this woman is? " He warned them. " She is the Princess of Troy! Do you want to be the next ones Hector will slaughter ? LOOK AT WHAT HE DID TO US TODAY JUST TO SAVE HIS COWARD BROTHER! He killed Menelaus, he broke the pact ... Imagine what he would do to you for raping his sister. "

They tossed you to the ground, sudden fear making them act as if they would have just heard a deathly curse had spread among them.

When Odysseus picked you up, you had no more tears left to cry. Or at least you believed so, untill you clinged to him as if your life depended on it.

He took you to his small tent in the little corner of the greek camp he ruled. His own men seemed weirded by the sudden arrival, but followed his orders of not disturbing you.

Your spirits were even more broken than your body, and the safety you temporally found in him made it hard for you to separate. He understood it, and craddled you by the fire while silently hearing your sobbing.

" He is a monster. " You were saying between your crying. " He did this to me in honor of his brother. "

He guessed it, and he cursed himself for not thinking ahead of him.

" Honor? There is no honor in any of this." He commented in a comforting tone, caressing the top of your head. " Don't worry, beautifull. You are safe now."

He inmediately regretted to have adressed you in a way that could be very uncomfortable after what you have gone through, despite he didn't mean it in the same way of your attackers.

" I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have ... "

You raised your face so your eyes would find his for the first time since the arrival.

" It's allright, I know. " You calmed him, tears still flowing. " Crazy, isn't it? When you say it I don't feel the danger. "

Softer by the blow, burning slowly, but the fire in your eyes was still there.

" How does it make you feel? "

Despite the pain, you still had a shy smile for him.

" Good, but strange ... I never felt like that before. "

As if you attempted to thank him with the only thing you judged a man would want from you in that hole of doom, you gave him a rushed peck on the lips.

" Thank you for saving me, you are a man of honor. "

Even hurt as you were, he found you beautiful to the point of cruelty. The brush of your soft lips made him tremble, but he replied with a chaste kiss on the top of your forehead.

" No need for rewards, princess. I did what i had to do. "

Noticing that you were finaly calm, he stood up and peeked out of the tent to command orders from its entrance.

" Eurylochus! Get this woman the means for a proper bath, she will wash herself. Send some men to roam the camp and find her decent clothes. She is our temporary guest now. If Agamemnon has something to say about that, tell him I would rather expose us to an argument with him than face the rage of Hector ... Understood? "

By the time his attention was back at you, he discovered you already self tending your wounds with water from a basin and the nearest cloth you found.

" Resourceful girl ... Mind if I help you out? "

[fangirlinginspace]

I'm thinking about writing a Ned Stark/reader oneshot. There are hardly any out there and this amazing man deserves some love.

If you have any requests/prompts/wishes then send them my way

[sotwk]

treat! :3

SotWK AU Flash Headcanon (and fic spoiler):

Boromir would spend time in Minas Tirith's great library--not reading--just so he could secretly watch the girl he was falling in love with.

That girl is Aerdis, the "Reader" in my one-shot fic, "Breathe", and soon to star in my upcoming Boromir x OC series.

Without spoiling my WIP fic too much, unbeknownst to Aerdis, Boromir had noticed and admired her for a few years before he finally drummed up the resolve to court her and make his feelings known.

One of the things Boromir would occasionally do was to hang out at the top floor of the library, sit by the window with a random book, so he could have a private, unobstructed view of the city square below. In that square, as part of her daily routine, Aerdis would sit by the fountain and read her book (except she was actually reading, not fake reading), oblivious to the handsome stalker admirer pining from the library window.

Why couldn't he just approach her? Should not the Captain of Gondor be braver and more confident than that?!

Well, as Sean Bean said in the role of Odysseus from Troy: "Women have a way of complicating things." In other words, when a woman is involved, a man can easily start behaving unlike himself, as though he'd lost his senses. That's just part of being truly in love. It took Boromir a while to even grasp that "love" is what he was experiencing.

But he knew this: he wanted to see her. He HAD to see her. Even if it meant having to hang out in the most boring place in the city. Fortunately for him, Faramir immediately caught on and started to help him with the ruse, like a good wing-man.

I hope Readers can be patient and bear with me while I continue to work on getting my Boromir x Aerdis fic, "Other Paths We Might Take", off the ground! (Bonus: Boromir and Aerdis's happy ending is already mentioned in my Éomer fic, "Taken", where they are supporting characters.)

HAPPY HALLOWEEN, @sweetshire! THANKS FOR STOPPING BY!

[middleearthpixie]

Master List

So... I write things. Sometimes a little, sometimes a lot. If you'd like to be tagged in any of them, let me know!

Also, if you enjoy something, please reblog to your heart's content! Comments are always welcome as well!! <3

You can find my stories here and at AO3.

Fandoms I Write For:

Lord of The Rings - Boromir, Éomer, and Haldir (I've not tackled him yet, but want to. hee hee)

The Hobbit - Thorin, Dwalin, Frerin

And in the near future - The Boys - Billy Butcher

Please read my note on requests before submitting. 😉😀

Multi-Chapter Works

Damaged Goods - Ray Levine x ofc Theo Bailey (Stay Close AU) Complete

The Hobbit

~ Thorin ~

The Ties That Bind ~ Thorin x ofc Eirlys of Mirkwood (Post-BOTFA AU Where Everybody Lives) - 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 |

~ Completed Works ~

Something in the Night ~ Thorin x ofc Nina Carren (Post-BOTFA AU Where Everybody Lives)

Brilliant Disguise ~ Thorin x ofc Josephine (Sophie) Asharm (Post-BOTFA AU Where Everybody Lives)

After the Fire ~ Thorin x ofc Jasna Stoneham (Post- BOTFA AU Where Everybody Lives)

Miss Fortune ~ Modern!Thorin x ofc Alex Prescott -

Playing With Fire ~ Modern!Thorin x ofc Leda Andrews - (Pub AU)

Where I Belong ~ Thorin x ofc Noelle James (modern NYC/DoS/BOTFA AU)

More Than Meets the Eye ~ Thorin x ofc Arielle Farran (Post- BOTFA AU Where Everybody Lives)

Someone to Watch Over Me ~ Thorin x ofc Seren Gilwynn (The Hobbit, Slight AU)

In Time ~ Thorin x ofc Amara (Post-BOTFA AU Where Everybody Lives)

~ Frerin ~

Seven Days ~ Modern!Frerin x ofc Syd Prescott - Complete

Better Days ~ Modern!Frerin x ofc Elena Madison - 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 |

Lord of the Rings

~ Boromir ~

Promise Me ~ Boromir x ofc Gabriella (LOTR AU Where Everybody Lives) -Complete

Living Proof ~ Boromir x ofc Kaia (LOTR AU Where Everybody Lives) ~ Complete

Letter to You ~ Boromir x ofc Nora (LOTR AU Post-War of the Ring Where Boromir Lives)

One Shots/Drabbles/Shorts

~Miscellaneous Shorts~

How Will I Know ~ Thorin, Dwalin, Balin, Kili, Fili, (Modern AU) ~ This ties loosely with In Time, and The Cellar & Other Stories.

~ Dwalin ~

(Oldest to Most Recent )

Durin's Garage AU - Good Trouble - Updated 10/25/2022 - This WILL be updated in the near future!

The One Where Zana & Dwalin Spend Their First Yule Together

The One Where Zana Faceplants

The One Where Dwalin is Totally NOT Jealous

Meet the Fundinsons

The Morning After

The Cellar

~ Thorin x Reader Inserts Master List ~

The Getaway -Modern!Thorin x reader

Monday - Modern!Thorin x reader

Durin's Garage AU ~ The Chance You Take - Modern!Thorin x reader

Yule - AU!Thorin x reader

~ Asks Master List ~

A Walk in the Woods - Thorin x reader (Post-BOTFA Where Everybody Lives)

Absolute Beginners ~ Thorin x reader (Post-BOTFA Where Everybody Lives)

In This Moment ~ Thorin x reader (Desolation of Smaug Slight AU)

Blind Date ~ Guy of Gisborne/John Porter Crossover AU

Stroll ~ Guy of Gisborne/John Porter Crossover AU Part 2

Dessert ~ Guy of Gisborne/John Porter Crossover AU Part 3

Lockdown ~ Guy of Gisborne/ John Porter Crossover AU Part 4

Cake ~ Guy of Gisborne/John Porter Crossover AU Part 5

Hot Apple Cider ~ Thorin Oakenshield x Reader (Post-BOTFA AU Where Everybody Lives)

Fireworks ~ John Porter x Reader

The Fountain ~ Lindir x fem!reader

The Escape ~ Thorin x ofc Carys Greenleaf

The Escape, Part Two ~ Thorin x ofc Carys Greenleaf

The Harp ~ Thorin x fem!reader

Fair Enough ~ Éomer x fem!reader

~ Challenges Master List ~

The Courtyard - Dancing/Dipping Partner

A Kiss in the Rain - Kissing in the Rain

Bed of Roses - Rose Petals in the Bedroom

Showstopper ~ Modern!Bard x ofc Aislinn Dale (Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang 2022)

The River ~ Thorin x Fem!dwarf reader (Gates of Summer Exchange 2022)

A Bit of Home ~ Thorin x Fem!Reader (FotFic Pinup Calendar 2023)

Midsummer Night ~ Frerin x Belladonna Took (Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang 2023)

Long Walk Home ~ Boromir x ofc Eleri (Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang 2023)

The Woods ~ Boromir x ofc Kaia (Tolkien Pinup Calendar 2024)

Second Time Around ~ Boromir x ofc Brynne (Tolkien Pinup Calendar 2024)

The River ~ Fíli x ofc Vanessa Adams (Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang 2024)

Two Hearts ~ Boromir x ofc Sarina (Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang 2024)

~ Armitage Summer Splash Master List ~

WEEK 1

Make Me ~ Prompt #1 ~ Thorin Oakenshield

Bygones ~ Prompt #2 ~ Lucas North

The Note ~ Prompt #3 ~ Ray Levine

The Other Woman ~ Prompt #4 ~ John Porter

In Vino Veritas ~ Prompt #5 ~ Guy of Gisborne

Now or Never ~ Prompt #6 ~ Ray Levine

Misunderstanding ~ Prompt #7 ~ John Thornton

WEEK 2

The Tavern ~ Prompt #8 ~ Guy of Gisborne

Brewster's Place ~ Prompt #9 ~ John Proctor

Runaway ~ Prompt #10 ~ Raymond de Merville

Middle Earth’s Next Top Model ~ Prompt #11 ~ Moodboard

Stolen Moments ~ Prompt #12 ~ Thorin Oakenshield

Waiting ~ Prompt #13 ~ John Porter

Hurt ~ Prompt #14 ~ Lucas North

WEEK 3

The Lake ~ Prompt #15 ~ Raymond de Merville

The Visitor ~ Prompt #16 ~ John Proctor

Quiet ~ Prompt #17 ~ Thorin Oakenshield

Angel ~ Prompt #18 ~ Guy of Gisborne

Inked ~ Prompt #19 ~ Lucas North

Vampire ~ Prompt #20 ~ Claude Becker Moodboard

Body Swap ~ Prompt #21 ~ Ray Levine Moodboard

WEEK 4

Family ~ Prompt #22 ~ Thorin Oakenshield

Pizza - Prompt #23 ~ Raymond de Merville

Hit & Run ~ Prompt #24 ~ John Proctor

Fifty ~ Prompt #25 ~ Ray Levine

Leap of Faith ~ Prompt #26 ~ Guy of Gisborne

Homecoming ~ Prompt #27 ~ John Porter

Sweet Dreams ~ Prompt #28 ~ Lucas North

WEEK 5

Vacation ~ Prompt #29 ~ John Proctor Moodboard

Magic Kingdom - Prompt #30 ~ Raymond de Merville

[rose-edith]

You asking Boromir to teach you sword fighting because you want to help fight but other people won't help you

Hope you like it!

Asking Boromir to teach you how to sword fight would include:

•you had asked everyone else- Gandalf, Legolas, Aragorn, even Gimli, but you were always met with the same answer: NO.

•you didn’t know whether it was your size, your age, your gender or what, but they absolutely refused to teach you how to sword fight!

•and then you watched as Boromir taught the Halfl-lings/Hobbits how to fight and you thought that maybe, just maybe, Boromir would consent to be your Allie and tutor.

•so you approached him one evening as you all gathered around the dying embers of a miserably small fire. He was incredibly surprised but also receptive of your idea, and said yes! He didn’t feel like the others, he saw no reason why you shouldn’t learn how to attack and defend yourself, it was vitally important in his opinion!

•but you both knew that others in the Fellowship wouldn’t be as agreeable to the notion as Boromir had been, so you both agreed to keep your training secret.

•this meant that you and he kept having to find reasons to sneak off together for extended editors of time- you used the excuses of foraging for food, gathering firewood, needing to bathe with an escort.

•the problem is that everytime you appeared back at camp together you were both always tired and out of breath…leaving the Fellowship believing that you were conducting a poorly concealed affair!

•but the reality was that Boromir was training you hard. He had started off as a fair and just, reasonable, teacher. But as you had got the basic nailed down he became far stricter and stopped playing quite so fairly! He was right to do that though, in the heat of battle you’d need to expect the unexpected, so that’s how he trained you.

•he never hurt you, he was always careful to avoid catching you with the blade, and if you ever tripped or fell he always checked you over for bruises. You see, he was your friend before your tutor in those moments where you might’ve lost your balance or he’d tripped you up.

•all in all it didn’t take long for you to become an accomplished sword fighter, able to keep up with and even on occasion take down Boromir!

•and it wasn’t long before your skills were put to the test in the defence of your Fellowship friends!

•they were in awe as they watched you fight off some clumsy orcs while they were tied up. And yet you did it! Once the last beast had fallen you turned and smiled at your friends. They were all shocked apart from Boromir, who was beaming brightly at you!

•from then on your training wasn’t a secret and the others sparred with you too. As for you and Boromir, your close friendship soon started to bloom into something beautiful.

[did-you-know-you-have-rights]

The fact that there’s not a single Alec Trevelyan x Reader fic either here or on Ao3 is fucking astounding.

[daveedsfeet]

he