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nereidprinc3ss · 16 hours

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strange perfections

in which spencer reid and fem!reader meet by accident at a coffee shop. and then they keep meeting there. they've really got to stop meeting like this. (no, seriously. hotch is pissed.) / do you believe me now? bonus chapter!

fluff! warnings/tags: meet cute:) some dark humor, romantically inexperienced reader, spencer reid graduated from caltech, mit, and the derek morgan school of rizz a/n: this can absolutely be read as a standalone BUT it was written as a prologue for my series do you believe me now? to explain how spencer and r met! completely optional, if you're only here for the smut no worries! reading this bonus chapter might make the next chapter better though as it contains discussions of how they met:) anyway, I LOVE YOU!! let me know if you like this silly little random thing! kisses

The café door opens again. A blustery wind raises goosebumps on your arms and makes your bones ache again. You look up at the latest intruder—a hobbling elderly man in a newsboy cap and a knit red scarf.

Stupid scarf, you think.

Stupid door.

Stupid wind.

Your mug is empty, and the table you’re sitting at is sort of sticky and rickety, and there are so many papers in front of you that you wonder why the hell you thought it’d be a good idea to print the PDF out and annotate it that way instead of just doing it on your laptop like a normal person in the 21st century. Nothing is going right today. It’s the third café you’ve tried in the past few weeks as you attempt to find some place that feels homey, lucky, but this one just feels… inconvenient.

You look at the stack of papers and sigh.

Stupid Lord Byron.

Stupid cafe.

Usually, cafés are relatively quiet and peaceful—a refuge for the overworked to bask in the luxury of quiet jazz and the smell of dark roast as they continue to overwork themselves. This particular establishment, however, today hosts a group of teenagers—presumably playing hooky—who have commandeered a big booth in the back and keep walking right past your table because apparently they couldn’t have just ordered their drinks at once and they all have to do it separately and loudly.

One of them has an incredibly irritating, gratingly pubescent laugh, and they think everything is hilarious. This whole situation is unbearable.

Just as you’re gearing up to go, of course the fucking door opens again. This time, it’s accompanied by a particularly strong gust.

Strong enough that Lord Byron doesn’t stand a chance.

Your printed copy of his works blows off the table, at first page by painstakingly annotated page and then before you can even process it, all at once.

Yeah. This is definitely not your lucky café.

As you curse and go to stand up, you run into one of those dumb kids. His huge ceramic mug goes flying, careening against the edge of your table and completely splattering you and all your stuff in 16 liquid ounces of scalding espresso and milk.

It’s silent for a second, save for a few drips from the puddle on your table to the floor, before the kid is apologizing profusely and turning red as a tomato. You can’t even respond—you look down at your ruined favorite sweater, and then around at the pages of Byron littered with color-coded sticky notes, overflowing with angry and purposeful red ink that you spent so much time on, scattered all over the floor.

Eventually the boy catches on that you’re not going to forgive him and he skitters away, back to his friends, who whisper and giggle profusely. Only a few of them get up to start gathering the fallen pages with you. Several other patrons end up helping as well, so the sheets of paper are gathered and returned into your sticky hands fairly quickly. You thank each person without looking up as they hand you their respective stack. All you want is to get out of here.

“Here—I’m really sorry about this,” someone says—a tenor-ish male voice, distinctly sympathetic as he holds out a rather larger stack of papers than anyone else had bothered to pick up.

“I’ll live,” you sigh, straightening up. “But thank… you.”

The man standing in front of you is the kind of man who makes you want to untuck your hair from its usual spot behind your ears, and to stand up straighter, and to try and not stare even though you want his attention. He’s gloriously beautiful in a way that repels and attracts you. He’s the type of man who wouldn’t have given you the time of day in high school and probably wouldn’t now. Instantly you feel both insecure and reduced to a former version of you who would simper and fawn over boys who wanted nothing to do with her. You feel like going to the other side of the café and sitting in the best light and staring out the window poetically and hoping he’s looking at you.

“On the one hand, I feel bad for being the person who opened the door and let the wind in. On the other… I feel compelled to say at least they’re not covered in coffee like the rest of your table is?”

You laugh vacantly, a second too late, positively coveting the awkward smile on his angular face. Then you make eye contact, and his eyes are so the opposite of angular—they’re huge and inviting and the warmest golden-brown you’ve ever seen, and they’re looking right back at you—and you have to look down. Fuck. You hate when you do that.

Think of something normal to say!

“Yeah, true. Now I just have to reorder 264 pages. That… that don’t have page numbers.”

You shuffle through the papers. They are hopelessly scrambled. Your heart sinks just a bit.

“Um… I might actually be able to help with that, if you want?”

You frown, glancing up. What kind of sex trafficking ploy is this?

“That’s okay. Might be easier with just one person.”

He laughs—it’s similarly awkward, similarly endearing.

“Do you mind letting me just… try? It’ll only take a minute.”

Only take a minute? Is this beautiful man deranged? Why are the hot ones always crazy?

But, perhaps because you’re a pushover who can’t stand up to people, much less beautiful people, much less beautiful men who are paying you undue attention, you find yourself giving in. You hold the stack out.

“Sure. Give it your best shot. I’ll be impressed if you can even figure out what page one is.”

He’s already flipping through the papers with a drawn brow, walking away with them, and barely looking over his shoulder as he mutters, “I have Byron memorized. It shouldn’t be too difficult.”

You follow him, because hello, he has all your annotations. He’s definitely insane, you think, as he sits down at a table and starts rapidly sorting the sheets into separate piles.

All you can do is stand awkwardly behind him as he stacks papers seemingly at random, barely glancing at them before deciding where they go.

Maybe a minute, maybe a few go by, each of which have you progressively more flabbergasted, before he’s tapping the edges of a stack of paper on the table and standing, handing them to you with his lips pressed into a thin pleasant line. There’s almost a glow about him—like he couldn’t be more in his comfort zone.

“There you go. Should be in order now.” You sport a frown bordering on a grimace as you take the stack and flip through it a bit. Sure enough, it seems that everything is in order. You keep looking between the man in front of you and the papers, incredulous as you wait for something to be in the wrong spot.

“How did you do that?”

His cheeks turn slightly pink.

“I know Byron really well. I know how each passage ends and begins so I put them together like puzzle pieces.”

“How did you read that fast?”

“Uh. I’m a speed-reader?”

You scoff, taking another look through the stack.

“I think that may be underselling it.” A thought occurs to you as you’re grazing over one of your longer annotations—full of expletives and strong opinions. “Oh, god. You didn’t… you didn’t read my notes?”

The man’s eyebrows raise as if he was waiting for you to mention that and he smiles like he doesn’t quite know how to break it to you gently.

“Maybe a few,” he eventually decides, laughing under his breath. “I appreciated the commentary on his relationship with Augusta. It was… colorful.”

Heat rises in your cheeks as you mumble.

“Yeah, I had a hard time appreciating the romantic poems. They’re less cute when there’s like a fifty percent chance he’s writing about his sister.”

“Half sister,” he corrects. You give him a look.

“Does that make it better?”

“… no,” he realizes. “Not even a little bit.”

You laugh, relieved that his face looks as warm as yours feels.

“Well… thank you, for the help,” you say after a silent second.

“Of course. Sorry, again. I, um—I hope your day gets better?”

“Yeah, well. I feel like statistically it has to, right? It’s kind of a low bar.”

He smiles, a perfect, perfect smile, and gives you a little wave as he leaves. Without coffee. Checking the clock on the wall, you realize it’s approaching one in the afternoon. If he’d been here on his lunch break, he sacrificed it to organize your stupid Byron texts. You smile to yourself.

He was totally in love with me.

And he can’t prove me wrong because I’ll probably never see him again.

All things considered—this coffee shop does seem pretty lucky. Maybe you’ll stick with it for a while.

The next time you see the mysterious sexy speed reader is four days later—though you’ve been here every day since. He catches your eye right as he walks in, and his brows jump in pleasant recognition. You smile. He smiles back, before going up to the counter and ordering a coffee with a ludicrous amount of sugar in it.

I should take note for when I make him his coffee in the mornings, you think to yourself, and then you snort at your own delusions, shaking your head at your book. Obviously you’re not that divorced from reality, but you’ll entertain the fantasy forever until one of you stops showing up to this café.

What you’re absolutely not expecting is for him to walk up to your table with his to-go cup.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi!”

Jesus. Tone it down, girl scout.

He gestures to your stack of papers: now secured in a three ring binder. The cup says Spencer.

Spencer. Spencer.

It feels important.

“I see you’ve upgraded.”

“Yes! Yes, I did,” you laugh self-consciously, still struggling to meet his eyes. “Thank you for the help the other day. I would still be sorting through all of this if it weren’t for that, so… yeah. Thanks.”

“Of course! I’m glad I could be of use.”

“Spence!” Someone calls from the cafe door. You both look up to see a stunning blonde beckoning him away.

Ah. Naturally. The girlfriend who is one trillion times prettier than you.

Spence.

Reality sets in.

“Coming!” He replies, with all the eager compliance of a child, before turning back to you. “Um… well… I’ll see you?”

It’s an awkward way to say goodbye to a stranger, but you suddenly don’t care enough to dwell. Instead you nod once, less enthusiastic now that you know he has a 10 waiting for him on the sidewalk.

“I am a creature of habit.”

Another wave as he walks away.

The two disappear from the doorway, but the perpetual breeze seems to carry a snatched bit of conversation your way.

“Who was that?”

“Uh… I don’t actually know.”

Yeah. Reality definitely sets in.

Over the next few days, you break your café streak. Life is busy. There’s not always time to artfully ponder Romantic poetry and drink a six dollar coffee while waiting around for certain people to show up.

Okay, so… maybe it has more to do with him than you’re letting on. But you’re not going to do that thing you do again, where you become limerently obsessed with a man you don’t know and who is way out of your league just because you can’t form an actual attachment to anyone to save your life. Besides, you remind yourself; we probably wouldn’t be compatible anyway. He’s probably a huge loser. Or secretly a douche. Or chews with his mouth open. Obviously nobody that attractive can also have a good personality.

Not to mention he has a girlfriend. That should put you off, too.

But you hadn’t been lying when you’d proclaimed to be a creature of habit—you return to the café once you feel sufficiently detached from this Spencer character.

He’s there. Of course he’s there. Why had you been expecting for him to not be there? It’s not like he was a figment of your imagination.

This time he’s accompanied by a different blonde woman—a bespectacled blonde with a big floral headband and a patterned dress and a red cardigan and tights and heels that look self-injurious. She’s quite eye-catching; you want to keep looking at her, but you seem to draw her attention, too. Her big eyes widen minutely and briefly you wonder if you’re supposed to know her, but certainly you’d remember meeting a person like that. She doesn’t seem easily forgettable. Both of you look to Spencer at the same time, who’s looking between you with an almost panicked expression.

“Oh! Th—” the woman whispers, cutting herself off when she realizes how loud she’s being in the otherwise silent establishment. “Ah! Okay, right. Never mind.”

Spencer sighs. You want to laugh, but you’re baffled by the whole thing. So you go back to reading.

Ten minutes later, they draw your attention once more.

“Go, go ahead! It’s more problematic for you to be late than me. I’ll be like, thirty seconds tops.”

You don’t look up as Spencer leaves the café—but are you supposed to gather that these two eccentric individuals are coworkers? And what of the first blonde woman, who you’d presumed to be his girlfriend? Where is she?

While you’re wondering all of this, the new blonde teeters her way over to your table.

“Hi!” She says pleasantly, waving a purple-tipped hand and wearing the biggest grin.

“Uh… hi?”

“I’m Penelope. You’ve met my friend Spencer. He just left.”

“Oh—sort of,” you smile weakly, closing your book. “Not formally. I didn’t know his name.”

That’s a lie, but maybe feigning non-chalance will make it real.

“Well, I just wanted to come over and say I love your bag. And your jewelry and your coat. I love your whole look. I bet you’re a really cool person.”

“Um—thank you!” You perk up, smiling genuinely now. The compliment warms you—you didn’t think your look was all that interesting today. “You too. I love your outfit.”

“Great! You’re—you’re great. This is good information. Um… just out of, like, sheer curiosity, could I get your name, age, and occupation? Oh—and your zodiac sign?”

What kind of convoluted sex trafficking ploy—

“Garcia!”

Spencer is at the doorway again, looking adorably miffed.

Adorable? Get a grip.

“Wh—I’m just making a new friend! Is friendship illegal, now?”

“This is the kind of friend-making that gets you a restraining order,” he urges.

You look up at Penelope Garcia, enamored by their whole dynamic. They clearly care for each other, despite the squabbling. What kind of job do they have where they talk to each other like this?

“It’s fine,” you smile, introducing yourself to her.

“That is such a good name!” She says, and you’re getting the sense she’s kind of always this enthusiastic. “So now we know each other’s names—we should probably definitely be friends, right?”

“Yeah! Um, definitely!”

“Yes? Oh my god! I love this! Okay, um—we work at Quantico, so, we’re like, 10 minutes away—but this is better than the coffee shop that’s closest to the building, so we come here all the time. Usually it’s just us and five grouchy old men, which makes this is really exciting.”

“Quantico… that’s the FBI academy, right?”

“Other stuff, too,” she nods, still smiley.

Oh! Cool. So they’re FBI agents.

So that’s cool.

You’re cool with that.

Her phone starts ringing—she locks eyes with Spencer.

“Hotch?”

“Ooh, we are in trouble,” Penelope sing-songs, leaning down to write her number on your notebook without asking. Not that you mind, of course. She adds a little heart and a smiley face next to her name before capping your pen and toddling away. “Bye, new friend!” She calls over her shoulder, waving goodbye with just her fingers.

“Bye,” you manage, though it’s probably too quiet.

Spencer flattens his mouth into an approximation of a smile and waves again.

You accidentally find yourself mirroring his goodbye, facial expression and all. Fuck. You hope he doesn’t notice. You hope he doesn’t read into it.

Nah. Boys are dumb.

You text Penelope later that afternoon—a simple greeting so that she can save your number—and then you forget about it.

It’s not until five days go by without sign of any of them—the two blondes, Spencer, this mysterious and foreboding Hotch figure—that you start to seriously question your sanity. Did they drop off the face of the planet, or what?

But of course, just as you’re sitting at your usual table, Spencer walks in. Alone.

He sees you immediately, but instead of the wave you’d come to expect, he immediately flushes, looks down at his shoes and hurries into the small lunch-rush line.

Weird.

You corner him at the coffee bar, where he’s adding more sugar to his coffee. How are his teeth so nice if he does this to himself every single day?

“Hey,” you say, affecting casual confidence as you bus your empty mug. “… Spencer, right?”

It’s comical how you’re pretending you haven’t turned that name over and looked at it from every angle hundreds of times since the first time you heard it.

He nods, only glancing up at you as he stirs. To your surprise, he knows your name, too. When you give him an odd look, he smiles almost apologetically, finally looking at your face for longer than half a second.

“I heard you introducing yourself to Penelope. Sorry if that’s…”

“No, no! Is she around, today? I texted her last week, but she never responded...”

“Today is operating system update day, so I don’t even really have a way of knowing if she’s alive in her office.” It’s funny to him, but you just smile, baffled. He notices your silence and catches on, scrambling to explain himself. “She’s our tech analyst. There are 243 computers in our building and she has to update them all remotely, which requires getting every agent to agree to not touch their computer at the same time for an hour or so.”

“Oh… does the FBI not have, like… an IT guy, or something?”

He laughs again—the way his eyes crinkle when he does it makes you a little breathless.

“You should say that to her. I think you would become her favorite person.”

It’s hard not to smile when he’s smiling because of you—however indirectly that may be. Quickly you realize you’ve both been standing in front of the coffee bar for too long.

“Alright, well… tell her good luck, for me?”

“I would, but I’ve been kicked out for an hour while she does the updates.”

Your brow furrows and you laugh.

“From the whole building? You just can’t keep your hands off your computer for an hour?”

“Not if I want to do my job, no. And I am kind of obsessive about my job. I’ve been the reason she had to start the whole process over again before and I’d rather not be that person again.”

You say it before you can think too hard.

“Well, if you have an hour to kill… there’s an open seat at my table? No pressure, obviously.”

And that was the first of thousands of hours you would come to spend with Spencer Reid.

After that, it sort of becomes a regular thing. He comes almost every day—except for occasional week or so long stretches, which you have discovered are a part of his absolutely fucking insane job—and sits with you, sometimes with Penelope, once with the other blonde, JJ, who you’ve since deduced is not his girlfriend, most often alone. Usually he can’t spare more than ten minutes, but he begins pushing it, little by little, until thirty minutes go by and you think surely his boss (the great and all-powerful Hotchner) must be beginning to notice.

One day, during your usual lunchtime rendezvous, his phone rings. He talks right on through it, like it’s not happening.

It ceases. And then it starts again.

Your head drops to your shoulder, something like pity or regret softening your features. He catches your eye and melts slightly, mid-sentence—like he knows you’re about to tell him to be responsible.

“Do you think you should…”

His hands drop from where they’d been enthusiastically positioned mid-air.

“They’ll be fine if I’m late from lunch one time. I’m usually more punctual than any of them.”

You roll your lip between your teeth—it’s not that you want to tell him to go; in fact, those delusions you’ve been harboring about your future life together are only getting worse with each inexplicable minute he entertains your company.

But his job is important.

“What if you have a case?”

“Then I would have gotten more calls from more people by now.”

Your head tips back as you laugh lightly at his unwavering insistence.

“I’m flattered that you so enjoy my company that much. But I can’t with good conscience keep taking up your work hours like this.”

As the laughter fades, he just… watches you, lips slightly parted, eyes intense but not entirely present.

“You’re probably right,” he finally breathes. “Maybe… you should start taking up my other hours, instead?”

Spencer Reid, you unexpected charmer.

You balk.

“Like… we would hang out? At a different time of day? Not here?”

“Those are the basic premises, yes,” he chuckles, nodding affably. “I’ve never actually seen you anywhere else. For all I know you could be a ghost eternally tethered to this building.”

“Where would this hanging out take place?”

Fuck, you’re totally being weird. His brow knits.

“I don’t know. Where else do people hang out?”

He’s not genuinely asking you, he’s gently turning you in the right direction. You charge forward blindly.

“Restaurants.”

There’s that pretty smile of his again, the one that makes all the thoughts drain from your head like cold bathwater. Though, there’s a sort of mischievous edge to it now that you haven't seen before.

“That’s certainly an option. If I asked you to hang out with me at a restaurant... would you say yes?”

You look down. God, your face feels warm.

“Would you be asking me out on a date? In this hypothetical scenario that we’ve constructed, I mean.”

Spencer seems to think about it for a moment, which fills you with unexpected panic. When you look back up anxiously, he has the same smile on his face, but his eyes are a little softer now.

“I would.”

More panic sets in—just a bit. But you don’t let what is undoubtedly a tidal wave of anxiety break through the emotional guard-dam. Keep it together. This is a good thing. This is what you wanted.

Unfortunately, you are perhaps more transparent than you’d realized. Spencer begins to look slightly worried, leaning forward in his chair.

“You don’t have to say yes. I know we don’t know each other very well, I just—”

“No!” You find yourself assuring him, though you curse yourself because you kind of want to know what he was going to say. “I would say yes. I’ve just, um—god,” you laugh gustily, self-consciously. “Sorry I’m being so weird. I’m out of my depth. Nobody’s asked me on a date before. I don’t really know the etiquette.”

Spencer chuckles.

“You’re doing great. Don’t worry about it.”

Not, what?

Not, you’ve never been on a date before?

Not, that’s crazy, or that’s weird, or how have you gone your whole life without being asked out?

With the implication being, you’re odd. Different. Maybe not in a good way.

He says none of that.

“But I should probably actually ask you, huh?” His cheeks turn pink as his laughter is redirected inwards.

“Sounds like a good first step.”

Spencer is still smiling as he says your name and it sounds so good from his mouth. It makes you sound so real.

“Will you go on a date with me?”

Butterflies in your stomach doesn't begin to brush what you're experiencing—your entire abdominal cavity is like a Monarch sanctuary.

“I’d love to.”

He seems genuinely relieved as he beams, slumping back in his chair.

“Oh, thank god. I was so nervous you’d say no. I never do that. Thank you for not saying no. Not that you couldn’t have said no—it would have been completely fine and obviously within your rights to—”

His phone rings again. Both of you are relieved that he was interrupted—but admittedly you thought his rambling was super cute.

“I should—”

“You definitely need to go.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a still-breathless smile. “Um—what’s your number?”

You look around fruitlessly for pen and paper.

“I don’t—”

“Just tell me. I’ll remember.”

He’s so weird.

A breeze hits your skin as he opens the door. You’re already writing your wedding vows in the back of your mind as you watch him go.

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic

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morgana-larkin · 3 days

Note

Love your writing and if you have time I have a prompt: I would love to read a Mel x reader soulmates story and can be any type of soulmate: tattoo on the body with words, marks when they touch each other, one feels there pain or any other type. Thank you ❤️

I loved this prompt! I always have a soft spot for soulmate prompts and fics. I went with 2 different ideas that I like. A soulmate counter, that keeps going up with every interaction and feeling a pull when you touch for the first time. And I’m sorry in advanced, it has smut and most of them this week more than likely will as I’m starting my period in a week so my hormones are everywhere right now. Anyway not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

On another note: if anyone is ever curious about what fics are on my list, let me know and I’ll post it. I noticed how many people liked when I posted the Google docs one and I was surprised. Anyway, I wish you all luck with my period driven fics this week.

It Starts With Zero

Warnings: smut, fluff

Words: 3.6k

Melissa is in bed staring at the inside of her wrist. They say when your soulmate is born, then a 0 will appear on your right wrist. If you don’t have a soulmate then one will never appear. If you’re born right away with a 0, that means your soulmate is already born. When you meet your soulmate, that 0 changes to a 1, and keeps going up every time you interact with them. The first time you and your soulmate touch each other, you feel a pull. When you and your soulmate fall in love, the number on your wrist changes to a heart.

Melissa is 22 and is set to marry Joe tomorrow. Her wrist is empty, which means that her soulmate isn’t born or she doesn’t have one. Joe doesn’t have one either, so naturally she and Joe decided to marry each other.

So here she is, in bed, staring at her blank wrist. She’s about to tear her eyes away and go to sleep when all of a sudden, a 0 appears on her wrist. Melissa freezes and her eyes widen. She has a soulmate and they were just born. That means her soulmate is out there and they’re 22 years apart. She decides to keep quiet and just cover up her wrist as she has to get married tomorrow.

*25 years later*

You walk in the doors to Abbott. You were so excited, you’ve been a sub for a couple years and then you saw a full time teaching position at Abbott. You immediately applied and you got it.

You get your teaching badge and classroom key and Ava brings you to the break room to introduce you to the other teachers there. You step in with her as Ava introduces you and 2 teachers immediately come barrelling at you and they introduce themselves.

“Hi I’m Janine, nice to meet you!”

“Pleasure to meet you y/n, I’m Jacob.” You shake hands with both of them and they ask you a couple questions before they go and sit down again. You look over to your right a bit and that’s when you see her, all red hair and green eyes.

You go up to the table and you introduce yourself and hold up a hand for her to shake but she just stares at you unimpressed.

“I don’t interact with newbies.” She says. The teacher beside her immediately introduces herself and you shake hands with her.

“Hi I’m Barb.” She says.

“Pleasure to meet you Barb.” You tell her. Ava then escorts you to your classroom. You’re so overwhelmed for most of the day from meeting a bunch of the teachers there that you didn’t notice that your wrist has a 1 on it now. Well you don’t notice until the end of the school day.

Melissa’s wrist also changed to a 1 and Barb notices as soon as you left the break room.

“Melissa, your wrist.” She says and Melissa looks at her wrist and sure enough there was now a 1 there and she gasps. Barb’s wrist has a heart as she and Gerald were soulmates and are in love.

The trio heard the conversation and walk over to the table to look at Melissa’s wrist.

“Omg Melissa, you met your soulmate!” Janine says excitedly.

“When did it appear?” Jacob asks.

“I don’t know. It wasn’t there last night.” Melissa says shocked.

“That means that you met them today!” Janine says. “Who have you interacted with today that you haven’t before?”

Melissa thinks, she didn’t go anywhere today, just straight to the school. She looks up to where you were standing and doesn’t respond. She got her soulmate mark 25 years ago and you look to be around that age. You were also the only new person she interacted with today. Barb looks to what she’s looking at but doesn’t see anything, then it clicks. “Is it the new teacher?” Barb asks and Melissa looks at her, still stunned.

“I- I don’t know.” Melissa says.

“When did you get your soulmate mark?” Gregory asks.

“25 years ago.” Melissa says. “The night before my wedding to Joe.” Melissa mutters and they all gasp as they heard it.

“Oh I could find out how old she is for you.” Janine offers.

Melissa looks at Janine and nods. “Ok ya, thank you.” Melissa tells her and Janine smiles softly at her.

So before the assembly starts, Janine sits down next to you while everyone else sits across the room to keep their distance.

“So is this your first full time teaching job?” She asks you.

“Ya, I got my teaching licence a couple years ago and was subbing until now.” You reply and Janine smiles.

“So you’re what? 25? 26?” She asks and you look at her confused.

“I just turned 25 a couple months ago.” And Janine grins but you look at her even more confused.

“Sorry, just I love birthdays. Happy belated birthday!” She says and you smile and thank her.

Janine sits there and keeps asking you questions. The whole time knowing that Melissa got married 25 years and a couple months ago.

After lunch, Janine goes to Melissa’s classroom to tell her what she found out. Turns out, Barb, Jacob and Gregory were there as well, all wanting to know. Janine closes the door and walks over to where they are in the middle of the classroom, all sitting on desks.

“What did you find out dear?” Barb asks Janine and Melissa looks over at her scared.

“She just turned 25 a few months ago.” Janine starts and Melissa looks shocked.

“Do you know her birthday day?” Melissa asks and Janine nods.

“June 15.” Janine says and Melissa covers her mouth.

“I got married to Joe on June 16.” She says as it hits her. You were her soulmate. Melissa’s eyes got watery and Barb hugs her while the others try to comfort her the best they can.

At the end of the day, you look at your classroom and sigh. You did a lot of work today and you still have the rest of the week to get ready for the students before they arrive next Monday.

You leave and lock your classroom. As you lock it, you see your wrist and realise that there’s a 1 there instead of a 0 like there was this morning. Does that mean that your soulmate is a teacher? But then realised you met like 20 teachers today and you shook hands with 15 of them and didn’t feel a pull. All of them are older than you so it could be any of the 5 that you didn’t shake hands with. You’re so busy looking at your wrist that you don’t realise that Melissa is looking at you from down the hall. She knows you’re her soulmate but then she sees that you don’t know who your soulmate is yet. She walks away to her car and you hear her heels click and you look up at the sound and see Melissa down the hall, walking away to the parking lot. You briefly wonder if it’s her. You didn’t shake her hand today and you interacted with her.

The next day you wander in and you ask Ava for your help to find your soulmate. She immediately agrees and shows you last year’s yearbook. You point to the 5 teachers that you met yesterday but didn’t shake hands with them. The last one you get too is Melissa and you point to her. Ava gives you a look but doesn’t say anything, she just writes Melissa’s name down.

Ava starts to bring you to the teachers to figure out who your soulmate could be. You start talking to them and for the first 3, the 1 on your wrist doesn’t change. She took you to the 4th and take a deep breath, you realise if this one doesn’t change then you think you know exactly who it is. You interact with the fourth one and while you get along with her, the 1 on your wrist remains.

“Ok, the last one is Melissa.” Ava says and begins to walk you to Melissa’s classroom.

Melissa saw you and Ava walking around, she wonders if Ava is bringing you around to meet teachers or to find your soulmate. Then when she puts the chalk back down after writing ‘welcome back’ on the chalkboard, she dusts her hands off, then looks up and sees the two of you at her doorway.

“Can I help you Coleman?” She asks Ava then looks at you.

“Nope, just showing Newbie here the teachers.” Ava says and pats your head. You look offended at her patting your head and glare at her. Melissa sees and has a small smile on her face before frowning again.

“Well I told her yesterday that I don’t really interact with newbies.” Melissa tells Ava. She doesn’t want to interact with you, fearing that 1 will change to a 2. She’s about 99% sure it’s you but it changing to a 2 will make it 100%.

You realise that Melissa isn’t going to talk to you and realise if you want to know then you’ll have to take the chance.

“The newbie is standing right here and can hear you.” You tell her and cross your arms. She looks at you surprised because you just interacted with her, she didn’t expect you too. She glances at her wrist briefly and sees a 2. Crap!

Melissa quickly wonders if she should get to know you or just stick to not getting to know the newbies until a year later like all the others. But then quickly thinks that you’re not everyone else, you’re her soulmate. And that makes her freeze, you’re her soulmate and you’re standing right there looking at her.

You look at her surprised reaction and you don’t see the 2 on your wrist as you crossed your arms.

“Sorry.” Is all she says. You nod then uncross your arms and you quickly glance at your wrist and see a 2. You do a double take and freeze, looking at your wrist. Ava sees the 2 and smirks then looks up and sees Melissa looking at you then down at the ground.

‘Oh’ Ava thinks. Melissa already knows. “Well this was fun but I got people to influence.” Ava says then quickly leaves, leaving you and Melissa in the classroom.

You and Melissa stare at each other in the eyes for a second.

“Well I guess I should go.” You say nervously and turn to walk out.

“Wait!” Melissa says and you turn around. Melissa walks over to you and holds out a hand for you to shake. “Welcome to Abbott.” She tells you with a smile.

You glance at her and think of how pretty she is when she smiles. You then smile back at her and shake her hand.

The moment you put your hand in hers, you both felt it. The pull in your heart. Melissa feels it too and she quickly lets go of your hand. She realises you could probably feel it too and she shouldn’t have offered a handshake.

You look up at her after she yanks her hand away. “Alright well, nice meeting you kid but I got a classroom and a school year to get ready.” She says and turns around and starts to walk away to her desk.

“You’re my soulmate.” You say and she freezes and doesn’t turn around. “You know that though, don’t you?” You say and at that she turns around.

“Look kid, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She says and you walk towards her. You stand in front of her and take her right arm and move it to see her wrist. Sure enough there was a 2 there just like on yours and you show her your wrist with the 2 as well.

“I felt it when we shook hands, the pull that everyone talks about. It felt like my heart did a flip.” You say and a tear falls down her cheek. “Hey, why are you crying?” You ask her confused.

“You’re right, I know it already. From the moment we met yesterday.” She says to you and you drop her wrist gently. “The 0 didn’t appear until the night before my wedding. I still got married and then I hid my wrist for 10 years until Joe finally saw it and then we got divorced.” She tells you and you finally realise why she’s crying. She’s scared, actually no, she’s terrified. “I know you’re 22 years younger than me. I knew that when the 0 appeared 25 years ago. But what if you don’t want someone 22 years older than you?” She says and you look in her eyes and tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.

“You’re my soulmate for a reason, Melissa.” You tell her and she looks into your eyes. You saying her name felt different than when other people say it. With you, it felt right. Like her name was meant for you to say it. “I don’t care how much older you are. When I first saw you yesterday, before I knew that you might be my soulmate, I thought you looked beautiful.” You tell her and she smiles a bit at that and has watery eyes. “Would you like to go on a date with me?” You asked her and she looked stunned then smiled and nodded.

“Yes, I would love to.” She says and you beam.

“Great! How does this Saturday sound?”

“It sounds perfect.” She says and gives you a soft smile.

On Saturday, Melissa picks you up and brings you to her house and cooks for you. The two of you have been talking to each other throughout the week and getting to know each other. You glanced at your wrist when you were getting ready for the date and it said 26. 26 times you two interacted this week and you smiled.

After you two ate what she cooked (which tasted like heaven), you sat on her couch and you saw faint lines of a heart around the number on your wrist. You two were falling in love. Melissa puts a finger on your chin and gets you to look at her and you blush. Melissa saw the heart on her wrist earlier and she smiled when she saw it. When you look up at her, you lock eyes and then you both lean forward and kiss.

To Melissa, the kiss felt different than it did with Joe. When she kissed Joe it was nice but something was always off. But kissing you, nothing felt off, it felt good, it felt right. You both pull away and just stare at each other and smiled.

The rest of the week went by quickly. You got to greet your students and their parents and met more teachers, you were loving your job. You and Melissa kept talking throughout the week and you were both loving it. She gave you her phone number last week so you wouldn’t have to be apart if one of you wanted to talk to the other.

The next Saturday, you two had another date and you went to her house again. You two were talking while she was cooking. At one point you just stare and watch her in her element and she smiled when she caught you staring.

“Whatcha looking at?” She asked you.

“You.” You simply said and she blushed. “You look stunning.” You said and you had a big smile and a blush on your face.

“Thank you hon, you look stunning too.” She replied back to you with. You notice how the faint heart was more noticeable this time.

You both sat on the couch again and you both leaned forward and kissed. Only this time, neither of you pulled away. You scooted closer to her and she held on your hips while you cupped her cheek. It got more heated and you had both hands in her hair, and hers moved up to your upper back just under your shoulder blades.

You moaned into the kiss and Melissa smirked. She then moved a knee up to be on the couch and turned more to you. She then gently kept leaning forward, pushing you back, but giving you the option to stop if you wanted.

You didn’t stop her, you knew what she wanted and you wanted her as well. Melissa was on top of you on the couch and you were still making out with her. You then moved your hands down her body and slipped them under her shirt. You were roaming your hands all around her stomach, hips and back and you moaned again. This made Melissa feel good, you haven’t even touched her chest and you were already enjoying her body.

Melissa had one hand on the arm of the couch to keep herself up a bit to not put all her weight on you. You then started pulling her shirt up and she shifted her body so her knees are beside you and you’re able to pull her shirt off without her crushing you.

You break apart to lift her shirt off and you stare at her. Melissa was self conscious for a second. She knows you’re aware that she's 47, and she thinks that her body looks like it’s seen better days, and she’s definitely not a thin skinny woman.

All her doubts fade away however when you stare and run your hands all over her again and smile. “You’re so beautiful, inside and out. Your skin is so soft and so much to touch.” You tell her and she smiles.

“So you’re alright with the fact that I’m not skinny?” She says and you look taken aback.

“What? You got amazing hips, thighs for days, and your stomach is incredible. You're curvy and I prefer that more than those stick girls. You have the body of a woman and I love it.” You tell her and she blushes. She goes back to making out with you and she unclips her bra when you don’t and she gets impatient. You giggle at her actions and take the bra off after she unclips it and you don’t stop kissing her to look at her chest. Melissa gets confused about that. 3 thoughts run through her head. One: either you don’t care much about breasts so you’re not bothering. 2: you don’t like what you saw of her chest already and would rather prefer kissing her instead of seeing her breasts. And 3 (probably most unlikely, Melissa thinks): you’re so into the kiss that you forgot to look or you don’t want to pull away cause you love kissing her.

Her thoughts get interrupted when you cup her breasts and moan into the kiss. You pull away and look at her chest. “They’re perfect and so beautiful.” You tell her and you’re showering her with compliments and she’s not used to that. She wants to kiss you again but then you pull her up a bit then back down and wrap a nipple around your lips and you suck. Melissa puts both her hands on the arm of the couch to stabilise herself from the pleasure and she starts grinding her hips. You pull back and Melissa wants to pull your shirt up but forgets to pay attention to where she puts her knee and her legs slips and she falls off the couch.

“Woah!” She says and lands on her back. You turn to her and glance down.

“You alright?” You ask her and she nods with a pout. After you know she’s ok, you try really hard to suppress a giggle. But after she glances at you with an arched eyebrow after she sees you suppressing a laugh, you can’t help it and begin laughing. Melissa sits up and leans her forearms on the couch and sits on her knees.

“So me falling off the couch is funny to you? Hmm” she asks and you nod and giggle. Melissa’s response to that was to take off all your clothes and dive her mouth to your core and you gasp. She ends up putting her hands on your boobs and plays with them while sucking your clit. You end up bucking your hips too much that she has to pin you down instead and continues sucking your clit until you come. She stands up and sees your blissed out face and she takes her pants and underwear off. She then sits on your thigh and starts grinding on it. You end up grabbing her hips and help her but then when you’re fully recovered from your orgasm, you shift her off your thigh so her pussy is between your legs.

You stick a finger in her entrance and a thumb on her clit and you finger her and rub her clit at the same time and it doesn’t take long for her to come.

The two of you just stare at each other and smile and neither of you notice that the number on your wrist has vanished and there’s a full heart in its place.

“I love you Melissa.” You say while moving a piece of hair out of her face and you cup her cheek. She leans into your touch and hums.

“I love you too y/n.” She says softly and a soft smile on her face. Melissa is so happy at that moment, she had to wait 47 years but she thinks it was worth it if she gets to wake up next to you and love you for the rest of her life.

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#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x oc #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti #x reader #fanfic

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latenightdaydreams · 3 days

Note

Hi hi! Hope you don't mind that I have another request eheh... 🥲 I'd like to request smut with some build up before it, if you don't mind of course ^^; I've just been recently obsessed over those tropes of s/o(s) being apart for too long. And then thought of a reader who happens to be an intelligence officer working for KorTac. She and König aren't together yet per sé, more like have fallen for each other but never got to voice it out. Now, reader is chosen to carry out espionage against their enemy. However, it lasts for a year or two. Which is risky af. Anyway, those feelings they had for each other never left and they only grew within time. Plus they really miss each other hjshjs- And then when she finally comes back, cue the reunion. Cue the confession. Andddd cue whatever happens after that. Sorry if my request is more lengthier than before 😭 feel free to decline

So uh yes. That's basically it. Stay safe and take care of yourself 🫶 just gonna drop this gigantic special delivery package to this wonderful writer over here (you ofc) of... Oo what's this— BOOM. LOVE ✨💓💞💕💖✨

OMG this is such a sweet idea🥹 Never feel bad sending in a request! I love reading them and I love the challenge of bringing your idea to life! Thank you for all of the love you send my way, it is very appreciated and it makes my day to see your messages and comments! I hope you have a fantastic day and enjoy the story!

Reunion (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, p in v, oral

2.3k word count

You stand in your room packing your suitcase as König sat at your desk chair. His eyes slowly going up and down your body, taking in how beautiful you look doing something so mundane. His mind flushed with thoughts of you, your mission, and his feelings. He has so much to say, but now isn’t the right time.

“Are you nervous Maus?” König bounces his foot nervously.

“I- no.” You lie. “It will be easy.”

“You’re definitely the best person for the job.”

You turn and smile at him. You want to say how much you’re going to miss him while you’re away. You’re aware that this mission will be long, maybe a year. It hurts your heart to think he might meet someone new while you’re away. What if you come back and he has a whole new life? A lot can change in that amount of time. Your heart sinks, but you continue to fake a smile for him.

You turn and face him. König looks up to meet your gaze, his pale blue eyes look sad behind his mask. The mask hiding the frown on his lips. He stands and walks to you, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug.

“I’m going to miss you Maus,” he whispers as he rests his head on top of yours.

“I’ll miss you too.” You wrap your arms around him and hug him back. “Don’t forget about me.” You say with a giggle in your voice to hide the pain in that statement.

Your giggle doesn’t work because König notices. His arms tightening around you, “I could never forget you, y/n.”

König has the overwhelming want to lean down and kiss your soft lips, but he can’t. You two are just friends. Military code forcing him to shove his feelings for you aside to not cause any issues. Yet, underneath his uniform, he is just a man in love; desperate for a chance to touch you in a more intimate way and express his love for you. He settles for friendly hugs and breathing in your scent instead.

He pulls away from the hug and looks down at you. Your beautiful eyes looking back at him. His heart pounds in his chest, he is already starting to miss you and it hurts.

“I’ll carry your bag to the garage for you.” He says closing your suitcase and picking it up.

“Thank you, Kö.”

The last time you two see each other you spend 20 minutes hugging, breathing each other in. Words hanging on the tips of both your tongues, yet no one brave enough to cross that line. Both of your hearts break as you know this could be your last time together. All you can do is hope that life brings you both back together.

The mission went on longer than expected. Two years and seven months, König has been counting the days; marking off the calendar waiting for the day you finally return. The only sign that you’re alive is the intel that KorTac occasionally gets from you, but it’s been three months since the last message. He is use to a life of solitude, but without you he feels a new level of loneliness.

He walks past your room every day before returning to his own. Your room remains vacant, everything left exactly how you left it. Every night he looks at a photo of you he has tucked under his pillow, gently kissing it hoping you’ll return to him soon.

It was another day of mundane tasks and paper work for König. He sat at his desk with your file pulled up on his screen, your photo attached. He marks off another day from the calendar, another day without you. Not even intel from you.

Around 12pm, König sits with his mask off, eating his lunch he packed for himself. He wonders where you are and if you’re safe. What if you’ve been captured and murdered or worse, fallen in love and decided to run off with the enemy. Being alone with his own thoughts is torture.

Just then there is a knock at his door. He rolls his eyes and lets out a sigh. He was in the middle of eating. Putting his sandwich down, he picks up a napkin and cleans his mouth before pulling his mask down over his face. Again, a knock.

“Alright, come in.” König says as he straightens himself out. He minimizes your file that he has still pulled up on the computer screen.

The door opens and closes, he looks up to see…you.

König’s jaw drops and he just sits there staring at you for a while, as if he can’t believe that you’re real and standing in front of him. You look just as beautiful as you did the day you left. Nothing has changed other than your hair being longer now, and it suits you.

You stand there quietly waiting for him to say something, do something. He just sits there looking at you in complete shock.

“Hey Kö,” you break the silence as you take a few steps closer.

Hearing the nickname, Kö, makes his heart flutter; only you and his mother have ever called him that. You’re really here. He isn’t hallucinating. It’s you. Quickly he stands to his feet and walks towards you, pulling you into a tight embrace. He takes a deep breath, breathing you in. He’s missed your scent so much these last few years, he had forgotten what you even smelled like. Forgotten just how perfect your warmth feels against his body.

Your arms quickly wrap around him, you’ve been dreaming of this moment for so long. Being away from König was harder than you thought it would be. Especially for almost three years, you weren’t sure if you’d be returning to the same man. Yet here he was. Your König. He waited for you.

König pulls away from the hug and moves his hands to grasp you face and turn your face so you can look into his eyes. His eyes glossy, tears threatening to fall. He doesn’t speak as he just looks at your face, taking in your beauty. He hasn’t seen you in the flesh for so long, it’s like he is seeing you again for the first time. His beautiful love.

Without thinking, König pulls his mask off; revealing his face to you for the first time ever. He leans down and gently presses his lips against yours; slowly out of fear of rejection, yet once your lips touch, you don’t pull back or turn away. You kiss back with even more passion, making König melt inside. He grips your face a little tighter as he begins to kiss you harder, matching your passion.

Breaking away, he rests his head on yours, tears now falling down both of your faces.

“I was scared I would never see you again.” His voice breaks as he speaks to you.

“I know,” your breathing shutters.

He pulls away slightly as you look up at his face. You take in all of his features that have been hidden all these years of friendship. He’s…beautiful. You’ve thought of what he might be hiding all this time, it’s just scars. They only add to how attractive you see him.

“Kö, I’m in love with you.” The words flow out of your mouth as if it’s word vomit.

Your heart begins to pick up and you swallow hard, waiting for his response. Your hand reaching out to wipe tears away from his eyes as they fall.

“I’m in love with you too, y/n. I always have been.” His voice cracks.

He leans down and his lips meet yours again, his tongue licking your lips as they part to accept him. He lets out a soft moan as he tastes you for the first time. He’s wanted this for a long time, since the day you stayed behind with him after a failed mission. That was the day he fell in love with you.

His hands drop down to your waist as he begins to push up the hem of your shirt, his warm hands caressing your soft skin. You don’t stop him; your body has always craved him. You’re his now, in this moment, and forever. Slowly pulling away from your lips, his eyes drop down your body.

“Is this okay?” He seeks you consent before continuing. His hands continue to caress your waist, moving up slowly.

You nod your head, closing your eyes as his lips come back to meet yours. You continue to make out as his hands move up your body. He begins to pull you shirt up, breaking the kiss to take your shirt fully off. He looks down at your breasts cupped in your bra. He brings you closer to him as he can wrap his arms around you and unhook your bra. You let the bra drop from your body.

König quickly drops to his knees, his lips finding your breasts and kissing all over, his lips grazing over your nipples giving you chills. His hands fumble with the button of your pants as he undoes it. Pulling down your zipper, he looks up at you. His hands wrap around the top of your pants and pull them down with your underwear.

His eyes look at the soft bush between your legs before he kisses your stomach and hips. You lean back against the wall and he lifts one of your legs over his shoulder. Slowly he kisses down your thigh that’s resting on him. He finally begins to kiss the soft hair covering your sacred area. He takes a deep breath, taking in your scent completely. He has always wanted to be graced with the privilege of giving you pleasure, and here he is finally.

He sticks his tongue out and licks from the bottom to the top, his tongue making small circles over your clit. He can’t believe just how sweet you taste. The small moans leaving your lips mixed with the smell of your arousal making his cock rock hard in his cargos. He begins to suck lightly on your clit, flicking his tongue over it as he does. Your legs begin to tremble and jerk.

You look down at him as he eats you out, your fingers gently combing through his blonde hair. You could have never imagined that he would be this good as he begins to focus in on your clit. Legs shaking you moan out, calling his name. You feel a rush, a build up of pleasure.

Knowing that you’re about to cum, König keeps his rhythm. You push his face into your cunt, forcing him to only breathe in your sweet natural musk. His face covered in your arousal; he can’t take it anymore.

He moves your leg off of him gently as he stands up. He begins to quickly undo his belt and take his pants off. He pulls his shirt off, revealing his Greek god like body to you. You just look at him, in awe. The same way he looks at you.

You both stand there looking at each other’s bare bodies. König just can’t get enough of you. He walks closer to you and scoops you up in his arms. He walks to his desk chair with you. He sits slouched in the chair as you sit on his lap, your wet pussy rubbing against his erection. You lean in and kiss his lips as he moans softly feeling a tease of what your warmth will be like.

With no regard for safe sex, you lean forward, reaching down and grabbing his cock to guide it into your pussy. Once the tip squeezes in you both let out a harmonious moan. Your eyes studying his face as he is focused on watching you stretch around his cock.

Your hands on his shoulders for balance, you continue to sit down until König bottoms out inside of you. His hands squeezing the supple flesh of your thighs as he submits to you and lets you take control of your shared pleasure. Your tight cunt squeezing around him, breasts bouncing in his face as you move over him. His muscles flex as he assists you in your movements.

“Oh Scheiße, Maus. You feel so fucking good.” He moans out as his head falls back against the back of the chair; eyes closed. He has never felt this level of pleasure before with another partner. The sound of your wet cunt filling the space between your shared moans and panting.

“Kö,” you whimper out as your hands move to his chest, fingers digging deeply into his skin.

König opens his eyes and looks down at your cunt eagerly trying to milk him. A creamy white ring circling the base of his cock, and he can smell the sex in the air. He can’t hold on anymore. He wraps his arms around your abdomen and holds you close to him while he begins to quickly thrust up into you, his balls slapping against your ass. You begin to moan out loudly, definitely loud enough to be heard from the hallway, but he couldn’t care less.

“I-I’m going to- ah,” König couldn’t even speak as he begins to sweat from his rapid movements. His hands grasping your ass as he begins to roughly push you down on his cock. You can feel him throbbing deep inside of you as he cums. His cheeks turning slightly red from embracement of not lasting longer.

Your lips meet his with desperation as you both kiss. His hands still gripping you tightly as you rest on him, as if you might leave again if he lets go. Breaking the kiss you both look into each other’s eyes. One of his hands leaving your body and moving up to caress your face gently.

“Are you mine?” König sounding so submissive and gentle, a side no one ever sees of him.

“Of course.”

#konig #konig x y/n #konig cod #konig x reader #könig #könig x reader #konig smut #könig smut #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig x reader smut #cod konig #könig call of duty #könig x reader smut #könig x y/n #könig x you #smut

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scoonsalicious · 14 hours

Text

Unwanted: Chapter 27, Unhinged - Pt. 7

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, voyeurism, manipulation, lies, spying.

Word Count: 926

Previously On...: Jade's got you kidnapped is in planning on auctioning you. She's got something for you to see, though, first.

A/N: Second favorite line of dialog in this part. Guess!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

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The video opened to show Jade, clad in only her bra and underwear, positioning the camera on top of a dresser in what you assumed was their Russian safehouse. Bucky was sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing only his boxer briefs, with his head in his hands, not looking at what she was doing.

“Sorry,” he muttered without looking up. “That’s… that’s never something that happened to me before. I’ve, uh, never had a problem… getting it up.”

“That’s okay, baby,” Jade said, crawling across the bed to stand behind Bucky as she began pressing kisses to his neck. “It’s new and you’re nervous. But I’m not going to judge you.”

Bucky flinched away from her touch. “It’s not… it’s not nerves. I just… Pocket. I don’t think I actually want to do this to her.”

Jade in the video dropped her head to the top of Bucky’s shoulder. “Why are you thinking about that slut?” she demanded. “She fucked your best friend. You saw the articles. She’s just not hiding it from you anymore.”

“God, I wish you’d never shown me those fucking articles! I just can’t believe she would do that to me,” he moaned. “She knows how I feel, how insecure I am about the two of them together.”

“Yeah, she knew, but she did it, anyway,” Jade said as she started peppering his skin with kisses again. She reached down and began palming at Bucky’s limp dick through his underwear. “She doesn’t love you. I wish you would finally open your eyes and see that. You deserve so much better.”

“But I love her,” he whispered, so low you had to strain to hear it. “I’m just so… fucking mad at her! At both of them! How could she do this to me? She said she was going to give me a chance, to let me work on rebuilding trust! And the second I’m gone, she turns around and does this?”

“Listen, Jamie.” Jade dipped her head and took on air of contrition. “I didn’t want to tell you this, but she started things up with Steve long before this gala.”

Bucky jerked his head up at her. “You’re lying. She wouldn’t.”

Jade frowned, and brushed a strand of hair back off his face. “My poor, sweet, trusting Jaime. I’m so sorry. The other agents talk, you know. Especially the ones that kind of blend into the background. You can hear an awful lot when people don’t notice you’re there.”

Bucky shook his head in disbelief at her. “No. There’s no way.”

“I guess it started when they went to Latvia? Anything change between them after that mission?” Jade said. “One of the agents told me she caught a glimpse of them fuckin in the back of the Quinjet before landing.”

“They could have seen anybody,” Bucky said, his breath coming heavier now, and you knew he was starting to doubt, knew he was letting his insecurities take over. “That was… before, before we were even together.”

“Maybe,” Jade hummed with a shrug. “The agent said she was wearing a purple pushup bra under her tac suit, but Steve had pulled it down so he could… well, you know. I’m sure Pocket doesn’t have a bra like that, right?”

Your mind flashed back to that day, that mission– it stuck with you because it was the day you and Steve had finally buried the hatchet about Berlin. It was the day… fuck. It was the day Bucky asked you if you and Steve had slept together because you were acting so much nicer toward him. You remembered coming out of your bathroom to chastise him for even asking, but he was barely paying attention. He’d kept staring at your breasts… why? Because you’d been in the middle of changing out of your tac suit when he asked his ridiculous question, and you came out with it down to your waist, the only thing covering your top half… a purple push up bra. Bucky always said how much he loved that bra, because it reminded him the first time he got to see your tits, even if you hadn’t taken it off.

“You flaky, crusty cunt!” You said. “You hacked the feeds of my room! You SPIED on us!”

“Oh, calm down,” said Jade, pausing the video and going back fifteen seconds to make sure you didn’t miss a moment. “Don’t think of it as spying, think of it as doing research. I needed to know what my Jamie was up to before I arrived. What he did in his spare time, who he did it with.” She cast you a dirty look.

You felt gross. This new piece of information meant that Jade had had access to footage from every single time you and Bucky had had sex, every one of your private moments. You almost didn’t want to know how she had gotten past the encryption locks you’d installed into the system. If you ever made it out of this room alive, you’d make sure you updated the security.

“Don’t worry, Precious Pocket,” Jade said, slapping your cheeks a little too roughly with the flat of the phone. “I didn’t watch all the pity fucks Bucky gave you.” She laughed. “Watching you wiggle and bark like a beached sea lion once was enough for me. Poor Jamie. Wonder how he could even stand it.”

She put the phone back in front of your face. “You don’t want to miss the best part!” she exclaimed, before hitting play once more.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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sirianasims · 3 days

Text

Chapter 43.5

Idiot.

The voice in my head is persistent. It’s been over two months but it’s not letting up.

I try to focus on the lines, struggling to keep the faint remnants of my Tartosan accent from creeping into Llama Man’s commanding voice. It’s always more difficult just after I’ve been home.

Idiot.

Images from the last year keep flashing by, little details seared into my brain. Her green eyes. Her smile. The delicate birthmarks artfully strewn across her face. I used to insist on kissing each of them goodbye before I left and it always made her laugh.

It was the best sound in the world.

Idiot.

The more recent images are a different story. Her tears. The look of shock and confusion in her eyes. She didn’t understand, of course, and some days I’m not sure I do either. Am I an idiot for leaving her? Or for letting myself fall in love with her in the first place?

Both?

“Alright, Paul, that was good, but let’s do an extra take just to be sure.”

I nod at the sound technician and start over.

“I’ve sent the files off to Mike. Personally, I don’t think he’ll demand another round, the last two takes were flawless.”

“Thanks. I’m sorry for dragging you in for pick-ups again, I’ve been feeling a bit off lately.”

“Hey, it’s a pay check. And I’m going to need it for the move. We want to get settled into the new house before my son’s wedding so we’re already packing.”

“Did you find a job in Henford yet?”

“Not yet, but my wife got an offer. We’ll make it work. My kid is the only family I have left, so if he moves abroad, we follow. And I never liked staying in one place for too long anyway, I get restless.”

“Well, best of luck over there, Charles. The new sound tech will have some big shoes to fill.”

“Thanks, Paul. It’s been a pleasure working with you.”

Charles leaves, and I turn on the coffee machine.

I’ve just finished pouring two mugs when Lee arrives.

“Oh, you must have read my mind, love, I am positively dying for a coffee right now.”

“When are you not?”

Lee settles onto the sofa with a sigh.

“It’s been one of those weeks, deadlines put such a damper on my creativity. But how was Tartosa? Did you have a nice birthday?”

“It was fine. I didn’t feel like making it a huge thing, but my mother had arranged a family dinner at the vineyard.”

“Ah, just an intimate and completely non-threatening gathering with fifteen to twenty people, then.”

I lean back against the counter and take a long sip of the coffee to avoid responding. It’s still too hot, and I grimace as the liquid burns my mouth. Idiot.

Lee isn’t so easily deterred, though.

“So, that’s it? You’re just never going to see her again?”

“Lee, first of all, she blocked me. On my birthday, no less. So I’m going to take that as a big fat hint and respect her wishes. Second, I broke up with her because it was a dead end. She’s not going to settle down for another decade, and when she does, she’s not going to pick some fifty year old relic.”

Lee raises an eyebrow.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Yeah, I said it. Sorry to break it to you, Lee, but you’re old. Ancient. Practically dust.”

“I’m choosing to ignore your hurtful remarks because you’re clearly heartbroken and out of your mind with grief.”

I snort. “Sorry. I’m fine, really, I’m just annoyed at myself.”

“For irrationally breaking up with the love of your life or for stubbornly refusing to reconsider?”

“For being an idiot in general, I guess. I knew it was a bad idea. I even told her as much the first time I met her. But then I just had to go back and talk to her again like a complete dumbass and she practically invited herself back to my hotel. How could I say no to that?”

Lee chuckles. “Oh, but you couldn’t, of course you couldn’t. I mean, she’s not exactly my type, but I can still appreciate the aesthetics, as it were.”

“Right? And that might even have been fine if it never went any further, but I got carried away and kept seeing her even though everyone could tell it was going to end badly. We’re both better off like this, I’ll get over it.”

Lee just looks at me over the rim of his glasses.

“Are you sure? I may be a dusty old relic but as far as I’m aware, the only way you could possibly know that she blocked you is if you spent your birthday trying to look her up.”

“Thanks, detective. It was a moment of weakness, you don’t need to rub it in my face.”

“I’m not trying to rub anything in your face, love, I know it’s not your thing. But you were clearly serious about her if you were planning to bring her to Tartosa. And just because the poor girl understandably got slightly intimidated, you drop her like a newborn giraffe. Why not give her some more time?”

“I didn’t… Lee, it was the sensible thing to do! I just turned forty, I can’t just spend years waiting for her to make up her mind and hope for the best.”

“I don’t share your fetish for monogamy, but I believe all relationships are like that, you can never be certain. But you’ve always been stubborn so I’ll just give you the usual break-up advice. Get a haircut, hit the gym, put yourself back out there. Will you at least see my stylist?”

“Never. I am not brave enough to let Jessica Clemons near my wardrobe.”

beginning / previous / next

#duchellilegacy #duchellichapters #duchelligen5 #paul romeo #charlie ward #lee thompson #oh hi charlie #bye charlie?#two protagonists? in this economy?#it's more likely than you think

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rakiah · 2 days

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Hey hey! (^-^)/ How are you doing? Love your work btw, it's always for pretty and fluffy! (* >ω<) I just had a couple of questions, and the first one was: What are your tips for an aspiring comic artist? f(^ー^; I wanna draw some of my favorite scenes from my fanfics, and I thought it might look kinda cool if it was kinda comic/webtoon style? (-。-;) Like what's your I guess take on that and how one might do that? And what about panel style, placement, and size? Is that all up to the artist, or do they have a rhyme and reason? Sorry if this was too long. You don't have to answer btw. I thought I'd give it a shot since y'know. (*´～｀*) Anyways have a great day and keep of the good work! d=(^o^)=b See ya! (^_^)v

Hi!~

Pretty busy but fine and thank you! (//∇//)

That’s a big question and I’ll try to do my best! Explaining something that technic not in your native language can be uncertain so, I’m sorry in advance 🙏

First of all: Observe. Comics, doujins, mangas,… Just observe to learn how others do.

Comic is a narrative art so, the most important things in comic is the reading way aka the panels (the angles you choose), the speech bubbles and how you put them in your comic page. It’s really the first thing you have to put in your storyboard!

Texts in the speech bubbles are also veeeery important. Texts that are badly formatted is painful to read… Avoid doing cesura as often as possible and do nice text forms.

And please, if you choose a manga layout, do not put japanese speech bubbles, they’re really not suitable for western texts.

If you want to to a webtoon instead of a regular comic/manga, you have to thing your layout quite differently. Webtoons are more like storyboard for animation. Like a series of forceful scenes. Plus, you have to deal with the required format. I’m not pretty used to do some, I’m just working with a lot of them (I do the texts for them). I can recommend you Sweet Home (cw: horror, hikikomori) to see how the author use the long layout of the webtoon to skillfully instill the jump scares in their episodes!

A quick “how I do” to finish my blah-blah! ٩( ᐛ )و

First, I write my plot like a play (quick context for each act, full dialogues with stage directions) then storyboard. Tiny storyboard, I sketch 15 pages on an A4 page. Better global view. I can’t give specific advices on how to do panels (cause it’s something that just pops in my mind during my storyboard stage 💦) just keep in mind to diversify your angles especially during a talk between 2 characters. Don’t do a shot reverse shot, it’s just boring.

Then pages. I usually rework my storyboard at the sketch stage ‘cause I have a new eye on it lol

Also, don’t forget to think about the facing pages for the narration. You can do some fun page layout!

Tadaa! ✨

Hope it’ll help you and have fun with your comic! (о´∀`о)

#answer #long post #I also hope I made it clear enough 💦#quick comic advices!

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 day

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I know you are tired of being reminded of the whole mess that’s been going on. I had no idea what was going on until foxyanon told me cause I asked. The shock that went through me when I was reading ems post. I was decent friends with bel and interacted a lot with her. Had no idea how vile those bloggers are, just damn right disgusting and rude. But I told em as well that I have nothing to do with what’s her face. I’m always here for you! This fandom needs some serious work done and rethinking. I’m screaming the biggest f you to her! I love your content even though I don’t say anything much. You’re wonderful and deserve better! 💗💗

Thank you for reaching out, and treating me like a human being. It is more than I currently deserve. I will place the rest of my response beneath a cut, as it will be quite long and I'd like to give people the option to scroll past, as they are doubtless tired of all of this, and rightly so.

Yes, the behaviour of that group is despicable, but I cannot downplay the gravity of my own in that.

I had a longstanding block with two users (I am not going to use their online nicknames, I do not deserve to), arcielee and sylasthegrim, I said disgusting things about both of them - the screenshots of my messages regarding them both on the post you have doubtless all seen are real (so is the final screenshot where I mention an anon I had received telling me to die in my sleep, the rest of the screenshots in that post have been falsified, doctored or snipped heavily out of context to make them appear hateful - the doctoring has been confirmed by two individuals well versed in Photoshop)

I hold my hands up and apologise to both those people, and the people that have seen those messages and been harmed by them. They are inexcusable, indefensible and were guided by a false belief that those two people were being hateful in turn about me, and actively going out of their way to harm and spite me. I am unsure what Bel thought she had to gain by exacerbating the animosity between me and Em and those two women, regardless, we should have done the mature thing and reached out directly to them. I will say, that I have never once sent anonymous hatred to either person. The extent of my vitriol was confined to that group chat.

Bel also used slurs in the group chat (I would like to point out that myself, Em and Fae did not). I won't repeat what these were. I do not want those ugly words on my page. They made me uncomfortable and I called her out any time she used one in particular, but she always laughed off my discomfort and carried on anyway. She is mixed race, I am white, in my mind it is not my place as a white person to tell an ethnic minority what is racism and what isn't. There are enough white voices shouting down others in online spaces. I know better now. I should not let my own discomfort silence me. I will call out hatred, bigotry and discrimination in every instance that I see it. My past inaction is embarrassing, it's offensive and I am devastated by the hurt I have caused to others. I am so deeply sorry.

I didn't speak up for a long time, because I have seen what these people are like when they have a grudge against someone. It's frightening, I was a coward. Yet despite staying silent on all of it, I have been doxxed just the same. I suppose perhaps that's karmic retribution?

I appreciate that people have felt my response has been lacking, however, I was out of the country, away from home, from the 14th until the 22nd, with only my phone at my disposal and with the expectation from my husband that I would enjoy the vacation we were on, and not be online dealing with all of this.

I would like the opportunity to atone for my behaviour, to make amends. Currently, I feel I am not going to be given the opportunity to do that, and understandably so. Emotions are high, people are raw from what they have learned and they do not feel comfortable being around me.

Seeing the screenshots of the people in their group passing around my personal photos and saying incredibly vile things about my appearance triggered a lapse with the eating disorder that I am in active recovery for. I then had another a few days later. I need to take some time away to get myself well, as the fear and anxiety of all of this is taking its toll. I also need the space to deal with the legal action I will be exploring with regards to Chris having doxxed me. I am not running away. I simply need to get myself into a space where I am stable enough to handle all of this, be accountable, and take responsibility without my own emotions diminishing other people's.

I know people hate me right now, but it pales in comparison to how much I hate myself. I am so very sorry for allowing this to happen.

#asked and answered

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rosewaterandivy · 1 day

Text

rack 'em up!

Summary: in hustling, ya gotta keep the score real simple. count your money at the end of the game, and walk away.

Pairing: s.h. x fem! reader

WC: 1.6k

Warnings: NSFW 18+, drinking, cursing, & pool shark steve

A/N: A continuation of our Modern Love series featuring Steve 🥰 Reblogs, likes & feedback are appreciated - reposting is not. Enjoy! 💜

The first time you’d met Steve Harrington, you hadn’t been yourself. It was Halloween night and one of your best friends had somehow convinced you to go out with her to a local bar. You were in your Audrey Horne finest — pink sweater, plaid skirt, Mary Janes and all — while your bestie had settled for the Log Lady, classic Twin Peaks.

Thighs sticking to the cracked vinyl seat, you nursed a beer only half-listening to your friend’s bitching about her grad school class. Sitting at the bar, you felt exposed. And sure, she was there and had been supportive throughout this ordeal. But still — it was the first time you’d been out since the break-up.

Shaking your head, you tried to rid yourself of the incessant thoughts which were proving less than helpful. She quickly noticed your discomfort, she worried her lips and tried to get the bartender’s attention. “We can go if it’s too much babe,” she murmurs softly, “Or at least head up to Paschal’s where it won’t be as crowded.”

“No, this is fine,” you insist, taking a sip from your beer, condensation gathering on the glass. “I’m just getting used to it is all.”

She gives you a small smile, “Okay, but let me know when you want to bounce.”

The bar fills up rather quickly from there. The breaking of racks sounds out from the pool tables in loud cracks, quickly followed by loud whoops and hollers. The pair of you were occasionally jostled by patrons opening their tabs and ordering food or drinks. Coming to the end of your beer, you nod to her and she signals for the check.

Someone slides in behind you, sending your pint glass tumbling to the bar top the remnants of lukewarm beer readily making its way toward your lap. You quickly stand to avoid the spill and back up.

Large, warm hands lightly grasp your arms, causing you to jump, “Oh shit,” he says, voice apologetic, “That was my bad, I’m so sorry!”

Turning in the stranger’s grasp, you catch Liz’s wide-eyed gaze, “No harm, no foul,” you insist, “Quick reflexes and all.”

The sight of him makes you want to drop dead. A furrow in his brow and lip worried between his teeth — too handsome for his own good.

“Let me make it up to you.” His thumbs graze over the fabric of your sweater as you nod. He turns to the bartender and leans over the bar top to say, “Hey man, can I get two IPAs, a stout, and whatever else the lady would like?”

He glances back to you, waiting.

“She had a saison!” Your friend helpfully pipes up from behind you.

“Thanks,” he smiles at her, “Can I get you anything?”

She flushes under his attention and places her order before pulling you to the side out of earshot. Her eyes gleam in mischief when she says, “Ooh girl, he is fine.”

You can’t argue, he is objectively attractive. All coiffed hair and tan limbs, definitely out of your league. Involuntarily, you curl in on yourself.

“Hey,” she scolds, “Don’t do that.”

As if she could read your thoughts.

“Yeah, under Harrington man. Thanks!”

Schooling your expression into a semblance of cool, you smile when he leans back hands you the drink, your fingers brushing briefly.

“I am really sorry about that, by the way.” He says, eyes clouding over with worry. “Hope it didn’t ruin your night.”

“Not at all,” you say after taking a sip, “We were about to head out anyway.”

She elbows you something fierce and narrows her eyes.

“What she means to say, is that we were about to head upstairs.”

The stranger nods, “That’s cool.”

It’s only then that you notice the three other beers in his hands in a triangle formation, condensation growing steadily on each glass. You meet his gaze, “D’you need help with those?”

When he smiles, it’s slow and saccharine. “Don’t worry about it, honey.” He nods toward the pool tables, “But you can come along, if you’d like?”

Your best friend all but yanks your arm out as he walks toward a group of people surrounding the pool table. He hands the respective drinks to the man and woman arguing over stripes and solids.

“I broke, so I get to call Rob!” The man with long hair pulled up into a bun insists. “It’s like, common courtesy.”

The woman, Rob, takes a brief sip of her beer, top lip coming away covered in foam. “But polite society dictates that you should offer the choice to me, Eddie.”

Eddie rolls his eyes before noticing the new additions to the group. “Harrington,” he says with a smile, “Care to introduce us?”

The man’s eyebrows raise, “Oh, um,” he begins before faltering. “This is—“

Your bestie swiftly butts in to introduce you both. “Nearly ruined her night,” she jokes, “Beer stained skirt is a sure-fire ticket home.”

Eddie laughs along with her and turns back to the game of pool. “Whaddya think then?” His eyes meet yours, “Solids or stripes?”

Robin scoffs indignantly and chalks her pool cue.

His attention catches you off-guard, “Oh, um,” you echo Harrington, “Stipes, I guess?”

Eddie smiles and leans down to take his shot, “Excellent choice.” He sinks two stripes in the corner pocket and rises lazily to sip his beer.

Your friend, meanwhile, made herself scarce, socializing with Rob across the pool table. Harrington, first name unknown, eyed the game briefly.

“Take over for me?”

He glances across the table and takes the outstretched cue. “Sure thing Rob.” He brushes past you with a cautionary hand to the small of your back, “Sorry.”

Your friend and Robin continue their conversation at a nearby high-top table, while Harrington lines up his shot. Left alone with your beer, Eddie makes his way to your side. “This game is about to become distinctly unfair,” he grouses.

“How so?”

“Steve’s a pool shark,” he shrugs, “Good thing Rob and I didn’t bet on this game, he’d take me to the cleaners.”

You laugh at that, “Well, considering that she abandoned the game, I think that makes any bets null and void.”

“Maybe so.”

You sip your beer, conversation with Eddie coming easily. “I could give him a run for his money,” You say off-handedly, “If you wanted to make it interesting.”

The cue ball cracks against the remnants form the rack, two solids falling into the side pocket. Eddie gives you a wicked smile, “That so, sweetheart?” He chuckles and takes a drink, “Bit of a hustler yourself?”

You shrug casually, “Had a shit dad,” you supply, “Learned a thing or two in the bars he frequented.”

“Fair enough,” he says before turning to Steve, “Harrington!”

Steve stops his perusal of the pool table. Eddie chalks up the cue and passes it to you. “Care to make this game a little more interesting?”

Bets are taken — 3 to 1 with odds in your favor; you had graciously elected to abstain from betting. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for your best friend.

(“Oh my God, this is the greatest,” she crows, “The last time she played, she made a dude cry.”)

Steve, it had to be said, was indeed a shark; the game was evenly matched. Before long, a group had gathered around you to watch. Eddie kept the drinks coming while Robin insisted you both eat something.

Steve lined up to take his turn; it was a long shot, “Eight ball, left corner pocket.”

As he leans over, his shirt rode up slightly along his back revealing tan skin and toned muscles. You feel yourself begin to get hot under the collar. Eddie thrusts a cold can of beer into your palm, “Steve, make yourself decent, for fuck’s sake.”

He blushes at that, shot falling just shy of his call. The eight ball rolling to a stop on the precipice of the pocket. You let out a low whistle, holding the can against your forehead for relief.

“Wouldn’t be taking it easy on the lady, would you Harrington?”

Hazel eyes meet yours for a brief moment. He winks at you as you open the can to take a sip. “Not at all, Ed.”

You sip slowly, the cool beer alleviating your parched throat. Swallowing, you wipe a hand across your mouth and set the can aside. “That’s a shame,” you say approaching the table with a sway in your hips. “Get ready to pay up, pretty boy.”

Eddie cackles at that, Robin and your bestie howling in laughter. The patrons watching the game unfold let out whoops and whistles. It would be easy enough to simply tap the eight ball in the corner pocket, ending the game handedly.

You instead opt to ricochet the cue ball along the sideboards with enough force to propel it into the corner pocket with an audible crack. A wave of cheers erupts around you as Steve’s head dramatically drops in defeat. Eddie, Robin, and your friend bumrush and crowd you against the pool table.

“To the victor, go the spoils!” Robin hollers, turning you toward Steve.

You extend your hand, palm outstretched awaiting the payout. “Cough it up, pretty boy.”

With a huff, he digs his wallet from his back pocket and counts out the twenties. His fingers are warm against yours, you give him a small smile. “No hard feelings?”

He smiles in return, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Clasping the bills in your hand, you eye him up and down. Insecurity and shyness from earlier in the night alleviated from the progression of beers over the evening. “Tell you what,” you say, scrambling for a pen and paper, “If you ever feel like getting your ass handed to you again,” you jot down your number, “I’m available.”

He takes the scrap of paper from you with a slow smile, “Good to know.”

And if someone airdrops you a new contact before you leave, then so much the better.

Pretty Boy Steve: soooo, rematch?

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #Spotify

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falconfate · 27 days

Text

Hello ranger’s apprentice fandom can we talk real quick about the stupidest thing Flanagan ever wrote

It’s about the bows. Yanno, the rangers’ Iconique™️ main weapon. That one. You know the one.

Flanagan. Flanagan why are your rangers using longbows.

“uh well recurve arrows drop faster” BUT DO THEY. FLANAGAN. DO THEY.

the answer is no they don’t. Compared to a MODERN, COMPOUND (aka cheating) bow, yes, but compared to a longbow? Y’know, what the rangers use in canon? Yeah no a recurve actually has a FLATTER trajectory. It drops LATER.

This from an article comparing the two:

“Both a longbow and a recurve bow, when equipped with the right arrow and broadhead combination, are capable of taking down big game animals. Afterall, hunters have been doing it for centuries with both types of bows.

However, generally speaking and all things equal, a recurve bow will offer more arrow speed, creating a flatter flight trajectory and retain more kinetic energy at impact.

The archers draw length, along with the weight of the arrow also affect speed and kinetic energy. However, the curved design of the limbs on a recurve adds to its output of force.”

It doesn’t actually mention ANY distance in range! And this is from a resource for bow hunting, which, presumably, WOULD CARE ABOUT THAT SORT OF THING!

Okay so that’s just. That’s just the first thing.

The MAIN thing is that even accounting for “hur dur recurves drop faster” LONGBOWS ARE STILL THE STUPID OPTION.

Longbows, particularly and especially ENGLISH longbows, are—as their name suggests—very long. English longbows in particular are often as tall or taller than their wielder even while strung, but especially when unstrung. An unstrung longbow is a very long and expensive stick, one that will GLADLY entangle itself in nearby trees, other people’s clothes, and any doorway you’re passing through.

And yes, there are shorter longbows, but at that point if you’re shortening your longbow, just get a goddamn recurve. And Flanagan makes a point to compare his rangers’ bows to the Very Long English Longbow.

Oh, do you know how the Very Long English Longbow was mostly historically militarily used? BY ON-FOOT ARCHER UNITS. Do you know what they’re TERRIBLE for? MOUNTED ARCHERY.

Trust me. Go look up right now “mounted archery longbow.” You’ll find MAYBE one or two pictures of some guy on a horse struggling with a big stick; mostly you will actually see either mounted archers with RECURVES, or comparisons of Roman longbow archers to Mongolian horse archers (which are neat, can’t lie, I love comparing archery styles like that).

Anyway. Why are longbows terrible for mounted archery? Because they’re so damn long. Think about it: imagine you’re on a horse. You’re straddling a beast that can think for itself and moves at your command, but ultimately independently of you; if you’re both well-trained enough, you’re barely paying attention to your horse except to give it commands. And you have a bow in your hands. If your target is close enough to you that you know, from years of shooting experience, you will need to actually angle your bow down to hit it because of your equine height advantage, guess what? If you have a longbow, YOU CAN’T! YOUR HORSE IS IN THE WAY BECAUSE YOUR BOW IS TOO LONG! Worse, it’s probably going to get in the general area of your horse’s shoulder or legs, aka moving parts, which WILL injure your horse AND your bow and leave you fresh out of both a getaway vehicle and a ranged weapon. It’s stupid. Don’t do it.

A recurve, on the other hand, is short. It was literally made for horse archers. You have SO much range of motion with a recurve on horseback; and if you’re REALLY good, you know how to give yourself even more, with techniques like Jamarkee, a Turkish technique where you LITERALLY CAN AIM BACKWARDS.

For your viewing enjoyment, Serena Lynn of Texas demonstrating Jamarkee:

Yes, that’s real! This type of draw style is INCREDIBLY versatile: you can shoot backwards on horseback, straight down from a parapet or sally port without exposing yourself as a target, or from low to the ground to keep stealthy without banging your bow against the ground. And, while I’m sure you could attempt it with a longbow, I wouldn’t recommend it: a recurve’s smaller size makes it far more maneuverable up and over your head to actually get it into position for a Jamarkee shot.

A recurve just makes so much more SENSE. It’s not a baby bow! It’s not the longbow’s lesser cousin! It’s a COMPLETELY different instrument made to be used in a completely different context! For the rangers of Araluen, who put soooo much stock in being stealthy and their strong bonds with their horses, a recurve is the perfect fit! It’s small and easily transportable, it’s more maneuverable in combat and especially on horseback, it offers more power than a longbow of the same draw weight—really, truly, the only advantage in this case that a longbow has over the recurve is that longbows are quicker and easier to make. But we KNOW the rangers don’t care about that, their KNIVES use a forging technique (folding) that takes several times as long as standard Araluen forging practices at the time!

Okay.

Okay I think I’m done. For now.

#to be VERY clear. I Am Not An Actual Expert.#i AM however drawing from my own experience and research #and literally i can find Zero literature about recurve arrow flights dropping faster than longbows #all i could find was that recurve range is worse compared to compound bows #which. OBVIOUSLY. compound bows CHEAT.#(said lovingly. ish. if you use a compound more power to you but also It’s Doing All The Work For You.)#this article was literally all i could find from a couple hours’ search comparing recurves and longbows #anyway recurves are cool. flanagan why did you do recurves so dirty.#for that matter why are all your women blonde.#(i’m not including brotherband here sorry)#(but also why did it take a spinoff series for him to create a named female character that wasn’t a blonde)#(flanagan explain)#god these books have so many problems. truly this is my ‘i could fix him’#thank you flanagan for getting me into this special interest. now Tell Me Why You Did It Wrong.#rangers apprentice #anyway if you REALLY want to read about some bangin historical horse archers #look up the parthians :)#specifically how they fucking Decimated an entire roman contingent :)#crassus getting absolutely demolished by mounted archer parthians is definitely my favorite bit of roman trivia

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