#Archer x Reader

[cup1d-ends-here]

Nights Like This | Archer x Reader

Author Note: It has come to my attention that there is a lack of Archer love from Fate Stay/Night: Unlimited Blade Works. Imma fix that, please enjoy😙

Summary: Your childhood friend Rin Tohsaka had decided to stay the night at Shirou's again, leaving you and her servant, Archer, alone.

Genre: Smut, fluff, slight angst (playful)

Word Count: 6.1k

The Tohsaka mansion stood silent under the star-drenched summer sky, its silhouette etched in sharp contrast against the pale glow of the crescent moon. The cicadas' rhythmic hum filled the air, blending with the occasional rustle of leaves in the warm, restless breeze.

You sat cross-legged on a plush velvet sofa in the study, the mansion's only occupant tonight. The antique clock on the mantle ticked in deliberate defiance of time's passage, the sound growing louder as the night deepened. You weren’t expecting any disturbances tonight—until the faintest knock echoed through the air, reverberating down the empty hallways like a whispered dare. Your eyes flicked up from your book to meet a tall figure leaning against the door frame—arms crossed.

'Hello, Archer,' you say closing the book and placing it on the mahogany desk. 'I thought you and Rin were on another midnight escapade.' The archer servant scoffed.

'No. I'm on babysitting duty tonight while Rin frolics around with her boy toy.' The corner of your mouth twitched in amusement as you leaned back into the sofa, crossing your arms to mirror his stance.

'Babysitting? I didn’t realise I needed a chaperone.' Archer rolled his eyes, his grey gaze scanning the room with practised indifference. 'Hardly. I'm here to ensure this oversized house doesn't burn down while you're... distracted.' His tone dripped with sarcasm, though there was a flicker of genuine concern buried beneath the layers of his usual aloofness.

'How thoughtful of you,' you replied, your voice laced with mock sincerity. 'But I can manage a quiet night of solitude without burning anything down.' He pushed off the doorframe and strode further into the study, his footsteps silent against the plush red carpet.

'Solitude, maybe. Quiet? That depends. You’re alone in this place, and it’s summer at a time when all manner of creatures crawl out of the shadows. Let’s just say I’ve seen enough to know better than to leave you to your own devices.' You tilted your head, studying his expression. Despite his words, Archer’s eyes carried that familiar glint of challenge, as though daring you to refute him.

'Is that your roundabout way of saying you're bored and decided to crash here?" you teased, gesturing for him to take the seat opposite you. Archer hesitated, as though debating whether to dignify your remark with a response. Finally, he sighed and settled into the high-backed chair with the air of someone who owned the place.

'If I were bored, I’d at least have the decency to admit it. This,' he gestured vaguely to the room, 'is an obligation. And perhaps a touch of pity for you, sitting here with nothing but dusty books for company.' You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at your lips. "How considerate. Tell me, Archer, do you always treat your babysitting assignments with this much charm?"

'Only when they’re particularly helpless,' he shot back, his smirk deepening. The banter filled the room like a spark lighting a dim flame, warming the solitude you’d expected to endure tonight. Archer, for all his exasperating wit, had a way of making even the quietest summer nights feel alive with unspoken possibilities.

'I may not be a mage but I most certainly can handle myself.' I puffed out my chest and the grey-haired man scoffed. Archer leaned back in the chair, arms draped over the armrests with the kind of arrogance only he could pull off.

'Oh, really?' he drawled, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. 'Because sitting here surrounded by dusty tomes screams 'capable.' Should I fetch you a sword, or will you fend off intruders with your wit?' You shot him a glare, determined not to rise to his bait.

'I don’t need a sword or magic to defend myself,' you retorted, puffing your chest out just a little more for effect. 'I’m perfectly capable of handling whatever comes my way, thank you very much.' His scoff was almost theatrical.

'I’m sure. Let me guess—you’ll bore your enemies into submission with that speech of yours?' You picked up the nearest object, the leather-bound book from the mahogany desk, and aimed it at him without a second thought. It sailed across the room, but in a blur of motion, Archer caught it mid-air with a single hand.

'Nice try,' he said, smirking as he turned the book over, inspecting its cover. 'At least you’re resourceful. I’ll give you that much.' You crossed your arms, annoyed but secretly impressed by his reflexes.

'See? That’s proof enough I’m not entirely defenceless.' Archer leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and regarding you with a raised brow.

'Let me paint a picture for you. A servant breaks through the barrier outside; storms the mansion, and launches a weapon at you. What’s your move?'

'I…' You faltered for a split second but quickly recovered. 'I’d dodge, obviously.'

'And then what? Throw another book at them?'

Your lips pressed into a thin line as you stared at him. His smirk widened as he leaned back, clearly enjoying himself.

'You’re insufferable, you know that?'

'Perhaps,' he said, tossing the book back to you with surprising accuracy. 'But if I’m insufferable, you’re predictable. That’s why I’m here—to make sure no one takes advantage of your charming overconfidence while Rin’s away.'

You clutched the book, your grip tightening as you fought back a retort. Archer wasn’t wrong—not entirely, anyway—but there was no way you were going to admit it.

'Fine,' you said after a long pause, 'but only because I can tolerate the company.'

He smirked again, his crimson eyes softening ever so slightly. 'Glad to be of service.' Suddenly, Archer's face dropped and he groaned.

'What's wrong?' You tilt your head, your earrings tapping underneath your ears at the motion.

'Rin has requested I pack her an overnight bag and bring it to Shiro's residence...she forgot to bring anything to change in.' He sighed and rubbed his temple. He gets up off the sofa and heads into Rin's room, you trail after him. You lean in the door frame watching him hold a bag and search in her draws. An amused smile graces your lips as he opens her undergarment draw. Archer froze for a fraction of a second, his fingers hovering over the edge of Rin's neatly arranged undergarments. His eyes darted toward you, narrowing slightly as he caught sight of your amused expression.

'Don’t even start,' he said flatly, his voice carrying a warning edge that only made your grin widen.

'I wasn’t going to say anything,' you replied, feigning innocence as you leaned casually against the doorframe. 'Though, I didn’t peg you as the type to rifle through a lady’s… unmentionables.' Archer sighed, muttering something under his breath about how this wasn’t part of his job description. He pinched the bridge of his nose before grabbing what looked like a plain, practical set and tossing it into the bag with the precision of someone trying to pretend this was all very routine.

'Careful,' you teased, folding your arms. 'Wouldn’t want to pick the wrong ones. Rin might get upset.'

He shot you a look, his smirk returning. 'And here I thought you’d appreciate the effort I’m putting into this ‘babysitting’ duty.'

'Oh, I do,' you quipped, watching as he moved on to the wardrobe to pull out pyjamas and her usual clothing. 'In fact, I think Rin owes you big time for this. Maybe you should negotiate a better contract next time.'

'Noted,' Archer replied dryly, stuffing the rest of the items into the bag. He slung it over his shoulder with a practised ease and turned toward you. 'Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to play errand boy for the evening.'

You couldn’t resist one last jab. 'Well, don’t let Shirou catch you snooping in Rin’s drawers, or he might challenge you to a duel or something.'

Archer rolled his eyes but couldn’t entirely suppress the twitch of a smirk. 'I’ll keep that in mind. Try not to burn the place down while I’m gone, will you?'

With that, he disappeared down the hall, leaving you alone once more in the grand, silent mansion. The cicadas’ hum resumed as the door clicked shut.

-

The hours passed in a quiet haze, the ticking of the antique clock growing more pronounced in the stillness of the house. You were half lost in your own thoughts when the familiar sound of Archer materialising into the study. You glanced up from your book, meeting his tired gaze.

'Back already?' you asked, a teasing edge to your voice. Archer grunted in response, rubbing his temple as if the night had aged him by a few decades.

'Yes, unfortunately.' His tone was drained of the usual snark, but there was still a faint edge of humour lurking beneath the exhaustion. You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued.

'What happened? Did Shirou decide to make it a challenge?'

'Hardly.' Archer dropped into the chair across from you, slumping with a sigh. You sat in silence for a moment, watching Archer’s weary expression soften as he let the weight of the night settle over him. It was rare to see him this worn out, and though you enjoyed the banter, it was clear he wasn’t quite himself. You had changed into your pyjamas; soft silk pink shorts and a baby pink cotton tank top with a little bow adorning the centre of the neckline lined with white lace.

'Hey, Archer, can I ask you something?' You closed your book and shifted your body to face him. Archer opens one eye to look at you.

'What?' He gruffs and you look down at the coushins of the sofa, avoiding eye contact.

'Do...Do servants have the same desires as humans?' You asked, a vague question indeed. He opened both his eyes and looked at you.

'You'll have to be more specific,' he hums.

'Do you...do you feel, you know, attraction?' The air between you grew still, the hum of the night outside suddenly distant. Archer’s gaze was sharp, probing, as though he hadn’t quite expected that question. For a moment, his usual confidence faltered, replaced with something unreadable in his eyes. You shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, your fingers nervously tracing the lace trim of your top. The question had slipped out before you could stop it, and now, you regretted the awkwardness that settled between you. Archer sat up a little straighter, his usual teasing smirk absent for once. His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary, as if weighing his words.

'You’re asking if I can feel... desire, like a human,' he said, slowly and deliberately, as if testing the very idea. 'I suppose that depends on what you mean by 'feel.' As a servant, I don't experience the same emotions that humans do. At least, not in the way you might expect.' You frowned, confused by his answer.

'So, it’s... a no, then?'

'Not exactly.' Archer’s voice softened, a flicker of something deeper in his tone. 'It's not that I can't experience attraction, but it’s more complicated. There’s a certain... detachment to my existence. Emotions, desires, they’re not something I chase, nor are they something I dwell on. I’m bound by a different purpose, one that doesn’t really leave room for things like 'falling in love.'' His words hung in the air, heavier than you anticipated. Despite his composed exterior, there was a subtle weariness to his voice, a touch of something unspoken beneath the surface.

'But you can still feel it, right?' you pressed, still unsure of where this conversation was going. 'It’s not completely gone, is it?'

Archer’s gaze softened, and for a brief moment, he almost looked... human. Not the servant or the hero or the idealised warrior, but just a man who had once known what it was like to live with those emotions. 'I suppose that’s a matter of perspective,' he said quietly, almost thoughtfully. 'Feelings can be buried, but they’re never completely gone. They just... change.' You swallowed, suddenly aware of how personal this conversation had become. The silence stretched between you both, the weight of his words sinking in.

'Do you regret it?' You asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it. Archer's expression hardened slightly, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes.

'Regret is a human luxury,' he replied softly. 'I live with the consequences of my actions, but I don’t have the luxury of dwelling on what could have been.' You nodded slowly, understanding the hint of pain behind his words. For all his detached nature, there was still a part of him that had known love, desire, perhaps even loss. The silence between you both stretched on, neither of you quite knowing how to break it.

'Do you feel sexual desire?' You asked, inching closer to him. Archer’s eyes narrowed slightly as the directness of your question hit him. His posture stiffened, and for a moment, it was clear he wasn’t sure how to respond to such an inquiry. The atmosphere in the room shifted, the playful tension gone, replaced by something more serious.

'That's... a very blunt way to put it,' he muttered, his voice low, as if considering his answer carefully. 'But yes, I am capable of it. It's a part of being human... or at least, having been human at one point. But whether or not I feel it in the way you mean is another matter entirely.' You could tell by his tone that he was measuring his words, choosing carefully how to explain something so personal, yet so difficult to articulate. There was a certain distance to his words, as if trying to prevent the conversation from becoming too intimate.

'Why do you ask?' Archer's gaze flicked to you, his crimson eyes catching the soft light from the nearby lamp, assessing. 'Curiosity... or something more?' He leaned back in his chair slightly, waiting for your answer, as though he could sense the shift in the dynamic between you two.

'As a human, you are very pleasing to look at, your personality is insufferable- but I am a believer of speaking when something is on my mind,' your tone taking a sharp edge. Archer’s lips curled into a small, knowing smirk, though his eyes remained steady, unreadable.

'I can tell,' he replied, his voice laced with a hint of amusement despite the tension building between you. 'You’ve always been... direct.' You felt a flush of heat rise to your cheeks, a mix of irritation and something else—something you couldn’t quite pinpoint. His calm response only fueled the sharp edge in your tone as you leaned in just a little closer.

'I’m just being honest,' you continued, voice quieter now, more deliberate. 'You’re insufferable, but that doesn’t mean I can’t admit when someone has... certain qualities.' Archer studied you for a moment, his expression almost imperceptibly softening, though he didn’t break his usual guarded demeanor.

'And what qualities might those be?' he asked, his voice now more cautious as if sensing the deeper layers of the conversation beneath your words.

'Physical,' you said, eyes briefly flicking to him and then away. 'The way you carry yourself. The confidence, even when you’re being unbearable.' There was no denying the bluntness of your words, but at least now, you had his full attention. Archer’s gaze held steady, his lips twitching as if he were about to respond, but the words seemed to elude him. He glanced away for a moment, though you could see the subtle shift in his expression, as if trying to process what you had said.

'You’re strange,' he finally said, his voice quiet but with an edge of something else—something more complex than the usual teasing banter. 'But I suppose that’s part of what makes you... interesting.' You weren’t sure if he was mocking you or not, but you didn’t care. The conversation had gone further than you’d expected, and yet, there was a strange comfort in the rawness of it. Even if it left both of you standing on uncertain ground. For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the tension lingering in the air, but unspoken understanding passing between you. Archer shifted slightly in his seat, his gaze locking with yours.

'So, you’re saying you like what you see?' he asked, the usual sarcasm in his voice now replaced with something less defensive. You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you simply met his gaze, your expression firm but unreadable. Finally, you gave a small shrug.

'Maybe,' you said softly. 'But that doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on you.' Archer let out a short laugh, and for the first time in the conversation, there was a warmth to it.

'I wouldn’t expect anything less.' The air between you two shifted again, the conversation moving past its initial awkwardness, and you couldn’t help but wonder how far this unexpected honesty would take you. You inched closer to his spot on the sofa, sitting on your knees, his arm that was draped over the top of the sofa.

'It's just us here,' you whisper with a smirk on your glossed lips. Archer's gaze shifted slightly, his expression unreadable as you moved closer. The air around you both seemed to thicken, the quiet weight of the moment pressing in. His posture didn't shift, but there was a flicker of something—surprise, wariness, or maybe just the subtle awareness that this was a different side of you, one that had surfaced unexpectedly. You could feel the tension building as you leaned in a fraction more, the proximity making his usual nonchalance seem less certain. His eyes remained on you, though they seemed to be measuring the space between you, waiting for your next move.

'It's just us,' you repeated, your voice soft, almost taunting, as your lips curled into a playful, challenging smirk. The subtle hint of gloss on them caught the light, adding to the sharpness of your look. Archer let out a quiet breath, his gaze flicking to your lips before returning to your eyes.

'Careful,' he said, his tone still steady, but with the slightest edge of caution. 'You’re treading into dangerous territory.' You tilted your head, never breaking eye contact.

'Am I?' The question hung in the air, your confidence radiating. You could feel the shift in his demeanour, the tension between you both hanging on the cusp of something—unknown and maybe a little dangerous. Archer’s gaze softened slightly, though there was still a guardedness to it.

'You’re bold,' he said, his voice low. 'But you should know that doesn’t unnerve me.'

'You sure?' you whispered, inching even closer, your breath brushing against the skin of his neck. His jaw tightened, his hand subtly shifting from the back of the sofa to the seat, as if bracing himself for something—perhaps uncertain of whether to push back or lean into the moment.

'You’re playing with fire,' he murmured, though the words didn’t seem to carry their usual warning. You smiled, a faint challenge in your eyes.

'Maybe I like the heat.' For a long moment, neither of you moved, the unspoken tension building, as though both of you were testing the limits of this quiet standoff.

'But can you handle it?' Archer responds, his voice lowering an octive. The change in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, the deeper, more controlled tone carrying an intensity that felt all too close. Archer’s eyes locked onto yours, unwavering, and in that moment, the playful edge you’d been holding onto felt as fragile as glass. You could feel the air shift, the space between you narrowing with every breath. The challenge in his words wasn’t lost on you, but it only fueled the fire you’d already sparked.

'Maybe you should find out,' you replied, your voice equally low now, matching his tone. Your smirk remained, but there was a flicker of something more—something dangerous, something daring. You weren't sure what you were doing, but you were caught up in the pull of it. Archer’s gaze darkened, his jaw clenching as if he were trying to decide how far to let this go. The playful teasing, the edge of sarcasm—all of it slipped away, replaced by something more serious, more... intense. He leaned in slightly, close enough for you to feel the heat from his body. The electricity between you both buzzed, crackling with tension, leaving you caught between daring to test the limits and knowing exactly what it might cost. His presence, his confidence, wrapped around you like a challenge, and you knew in that moment that this was no longer just about words. It was something much more carnal. Archer’s hand moved faster than you anticipated, his fingers brushing against your arm with a surprising gentleness, despite the tension that thickened the air. The contact sent a ripple through you, the warmth of his skin against yours igniting something that was both familiar and unsettling. He didn’t break eye contact, his gaze steady and calculating, as if reading your every response. You hadn’t expected him to be the first to initiate, but the moment his fingers brushed your skin, something inside you shifted. His hand moved, slowly, deliberately, to rest on your waist, his thumb grazing the edge of your hip. The subtle touch was enough to make your breath hitch, a quiet pulse of heat spreading from where he touched you. His voice was low, almost a whisper as he spoke, his lips close to your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

'Careful,' he murmured, but there was no longer a hint of warning in his voice, just a challenge, a promise of what might come next. For a heartbeat, neither of you moved, the weight of the moment hanging between you. Archer’s hand was firm on your waist, but it was the look in his eyes that unsettled you—the intensity of it, like he was waiting for something, testing you, all while keeping himself in check. You could feel the tension in every breath you took, the space between words more powerful than anything spoken. And yet, his touch, though restrained, felt like a silent dare. You placed your hand on his toned chest, testing the waters. Archer’s breath caught slightly as your hand rested against his chest, the subtle pressure of your palm against his toned muscles sending a jolt through him. His body was still, but the pulse under your fingers was steady, like a quiet drumbeat—an unspoken challenge. You could feel the heat radiating from him, his chest rising and falling with each breath, the faintest shift in his posture signalling that he was fully aware of the moment. The distance between you two had all but vanished now, and there was an undeniable electricity crackling in the air. His eyes flicked to your hand for just a moment before locking back onto yours, his gaze intense, studying, searching for any hint of hesitation in you. His other hand lifted your chin to make eye contact with him.

'(Y/N). I'll show you fire.' With that, Archer's lips encapsulate yours in a hungry, carnal kiss. You moan gently as he grips you harder. He pulls you into his lap and you place both hands on his chest.

'Archer, please,' you sigh, gripping his black undershirt. His nose trails up and down your neck, peppering kisses along it, gently biting at the soft skin. Your hands slide down his toned body as they stop at his crotch, a hard mass forming underneath it. The grey-haired bowman chuckles at your desperation. He undoes his pants and you slide them down as you rid yourself of your shorts.

'My, in such a hurry.' He teases and you scoff.

'Shut up.' He chuckles and your face floods with red. His hands traces your body as they make their way to your needy pussy. He slids your laced panties to the side and dips his finger tips in the wetness. He chuckles again, 'needy already?' He teased. You blush again and bit your lip.

'Just get on with it, bowman,' you huffed. He places kisses along your neck as he guides your hips over his thick, long length.

'Are you ready, girl?' He hums in your ear and you nod desperately. He pushes your hips down gently, as the inches stretch your walls you groan with pleasure.

'Ar-Archer,' you whine as you bury your face in his clothes chest. He grits his teeth as he sheths into you fully.

'Fuck,' he groans in delight. You slowly move your hips before gathering more and more enthusiasm. His skilled hand moves its way to your pearl, gently massaging it- creating unspoken amounts of pleasure. After a few minutes of passionate kisses and moans, Archer's stomach tightens. 'Ngh-' he clenches his teeth and you suck at his neck.

'Are you close? Mmh-' you moan and he nods. 'Me..me too. Archer, I' gonna cum!' You whine as you both reach your high together. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and see stars as Archer releases his seed into your pussy. You both come down from your high and the bowman gently lifts you off his lap onto the sofa. Flustered, he catches his breath. The room felt different now, the quiet after the storm settling over the two of you like a blanket, thick with unspoken words. Archer’s hand was still on your waist as he reluctantly helped you off his lap, guiding you back to the sofa. His touch lingered for a moment longer than necessary, fingers brushing against your skin in a way that sent a quiet pulse of heat through you. You both sat there for a few moments in the stillness, neither of you quite knowing what to say. His chest rose and fell with deep breaths, his usually steady demeanour faltering, the tension of the moment still hanging in the air between you.

'That was...' Archer started, his voice trailing off as he caught his breath, running a hand through his hair, clearly trying to regain some semblance of composure. His usual confidence was shaken, a rare sight for anyone who knew him.

'Yeah,' you murmured, glancing away for a moment, feeling the flush on your cheeks, still processing the rush of emotions. 'I didn't expect you to... well, to do that.' He looked at you, his gaze softening slightly, but there was still that edge of uncertainty in his eyes, as if even now he wasn't entirely sure of what had just happened between you two.

'Neither did I,' he admitted, his voice quiet, the usual teasing gone.

'Shall we get cleaned up?' You ask, tilting your head. Archer looked at you for a moment, his gaze lingering a little longer than usual, before he finally nodded. His usual self-assuredness seemed to be returning, though there was a softness in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

'Getting cleaned up sounds like a good idea,' he replied, his voice still carrying that low, steady tone. He stood up from the chair, pushing it back with a slight motion. The moment of vulnerability from before was quickly fading, replaced by the familiar sense of control, but there was still a subtle tension in the air, as if neither of you were quite sure where to go from here. You smiled faintly, already feeling a bit lighter as you moved toward the door, ready to take the next step and put some distance between the intensity of the moment.

'I’ll head to the bathroom,' you said, pausing to look over your shoulder at him. 'Meet you there?' Archer gave a small nod, his expression unreadable but his eyes flicking to you with a hint of something unspoken. 'Yeah. I’ll be there in a minute.' As you turned to head down the hall, you could hear the soft creak of the floorboards as he followed you, his presence still lingering behind you, the quiet hum of the night around you both. The air between you had changed, but the next step, whatever it was, still felt uncertain. And maybe, just maybe, that was what made it all the more intriguing. You made your way to the bathroom, the soft tap of your footsteps on the floor echoing in the hallway. The house felt unusually quiet after everything that had just passed, as though the silence was holding its breath, waiting for the next move. You could feel Archer behind you, his presence a constant, but the space between you both seemed more charged now—more aware. As you entered the bathroom and flicked on the light, you caught your reflection in the mirror. You paused for a moment, studying yourself. Your cheeks were still flushed, the lingering warmth of the moment evident in your expression. You exhaled slowly, trying to steady your thoughts, but there was no denying how your heart was still racing. The room seemed too small for the thoughts running through your mind. You heard the door creak open behind you, and Archer’s reflection appeared in the mirror. His eyes met yours, and for a brief second, neither of you spoke. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his gaze unreadable but intense. He was watching you, and in that silence, it was almost like the world outside didn’t exist.

'So,' he said, his voice breaking the quiet, soft but still carrying an edge of that cool composure he always wore. 'You really don’t hold back, do you?'

You met his gaze in the mirror, the challenge from earlier still simmering between you.

'What can I say?' You gave him a small smile, trying to keep things light, but there was an undeniable charge in the air between you two. 'I like to keep things interesting.'

Archer pushed off from the doorframe and stepped toward you, closing the distance between you both. His movements were measured, deliberate, and yet there was a hint of something more uncertain in the way he lingered, just out of reach. His eyes searched yours, a silent question hanging in the air.

'You’re a dangerous one,' he murmured, his voice low, almost a whisper.

'Maybe,; you said, tilting your head slightly. 'But then again, you’re not exactly innocent yourself.' Archer let out a breath, the barest chuckle escaping his lips as he took another step closer. The air between you seemed to crackle with unspoken words, the boundaries between teasing and something deeper becoming harder to distinguish. For a moment, neither of you moved, standing there in that shared space of tension and quiet understanding. The silence spoke volumes, but the next words, or actions, would decide just how far the night was going to go.

After a steamy shower filled with sweet nothings, soapy massages and wet kisses, the tension in the air seemed to stretch between you as you both made your way to the bedroom, the house still holding its quiet, expectant breath. The bed loomed ahead, soft and inviting, but with it came a weight—an unspoken question of where this moment would lead, of whether the night would end with you both in the same space, or if you'd part with everything left hanging in the air. Archer was the first to climb into the bed, his movements smooth and controlled, though his eyes flicked toward you, watching for any sign of hesitation. You followed him, the soft rustle of sheets filling the silence as you settled in beside him. The space between you felt both vast and intimate, and the familiar tension still hung between you, though now it was softened by the quiet of the room. Archer wore a simple, yet effortlessly stylish outfit, even in the quiet of the night. His dark, fitted t-shirt clung slightly to his toned frame, the fabric stretching just enough to highlight his broad shoulders and defined arms. His pants were loose, and comfortable, but still fitted enough to suggest the lean strength of his build. Despite the casualness of his attire, there was an unmistakable air of confidence around him, his posture relaxed, yet purposeful, as if even in sleep, his composure was never truly shaken. You both lay on your sides, facing each other. The light from the nightlight outside the window filtered through, casting soft shadows across the room. Archer’s gaze never left yours, a steady, almost searching look, as if he was trying to understand what had shifted between you two.

'Do you always do this?' Archer's voice was quieter now, almost thoughtful, the usual edge gone. 'Test the waters and then back off?'

The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you weren't sure how to answer. You weren't used to being questioned like that, especially not when things had felt so... raw.

'I don't know,' you replied slowly, shifting a little closer. 'Maybe I'm just trying to figure out where the line is.' Your voice was softer now, as if you, too, were testing the waters, even in this moment. Archer’s gaze softened, just a fraction, as if he was seeing a different side of you now. He didn’t answer right away, letting the quiet between you both settle again. His hand found its way to your shoulder, resting there with a surprising gentleness.

'You’re complicated,' he murmured after a beat, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. You smiled, a small, knowing smile, as you met his eyes.

'I think we both are.' With that, the tension seemed to ease, if only slightly, as you both settled in, the warmth of the bed enveloping you. It was still quiet, still heavy with what had passed between you, but for the first time that night, there was a sense of calm as you both allowed the pull of sleep to settle in. The sheets between you were a thin barrier, but for now, it was enough. And as the room grew darker, you closed your eyes, the sound of his steady breathing beside you the only thing you could focus on. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, the stillness in the room felt almost suffocating. The space between you, though physically small, seemed to carry the weight of everything unspoken. The bed felt a little too large, a little too empty, and you couldn't help but shift closer to him. Slowly, you moved, your body drawn toward his warmth, the instinct to be nearer to him taking over. Archer didn’t say anything at first, but his body tensed slightly, as if uncertain of what you were doing. Then, just as slowly, he relaxed, his arm shifting to accommodate you as you nestled against his chest. The closeness felt natural, even if the moments leading up to it had been anything but. His arm wrapped around you, pulling you closer, the heat of his body spreading over you like a shield against the quiet of the night. You could feel the rhythm of his breath beneath your ear, steady and calm, and for the first time since everything had shifted between you, there was a sense of peace. Archer’s hand rested gently on your back, his fingers lightly tracing over your skin, almost absentmindedly. The gesture was tender, yet held an underlying sense of care that hadn’t been present before.

'Comfortable?' he murmured softly, his voice still a little rough, but no longer carrying the edge it had earlier. You nodded, pressing a little closer, the warmth between you both enough to drown out the rest of the world.

'Yeah,' you whispered back, letting the quiet moments stretch on, both of you caught in the gentle pull of the night. And in that space, in his arms, everything else seemed to fade into the background, leaving just the two of you. As the night settled around you both, the weight of everything that had passed seemed to dissipate, replaced by a peaceful stillness that was comforting and safe. The soft rustle of sheets and the rhythm of your breathing blended together, creating a quiet harmony between you. Archer’s arm around you felt steady, grounding, and for once, there were no unspoken words, no tension between you—just the warmth of being close. Outside, the night carried on, but within the quiet confines of the room, everything felt just right. You could feel the exhaustion of the day beginning to settle in, your eyelids heavy, your body finally allowing itself to relax. Archer’s breathing slowed, the soft rise and fall of his chest beneath you a calming lullaby. Without a word, you both drifted into the comfort of sleep, the night unfolding around you like a soft blanket, offering a promise of peace in the unspoken connection between you. The world outside continued on, but for now, in this moment, it was just the two of you, entwined in the quiet comfort of shared stillness.

And as sleep took hold, you let it, knowing that whatever came next could wait for tomorrow.

[leggerefiore]

HCs for Giovanni, Archer, and Colress with a shiny charm S/O - they just have unreal luck with shiny pokemon they catch them bc they know they're rare and tend to just gift shiny mons to them (which I feel like for Giovanni and Archer that's such a bad idea those pokemon are getting sold or something) Bonus thought just rolling in my brain - Giovanni and S/O with matching shiny Nidos - or S/O having a shiny variant of the character's ace mon - I just think it's cute

cw: fluff, mentions of pokemon selling in Giovanni and Archer's parts

characters: Giovanni, Archer, Colress, Grimsley

🚀Giovanni🐈

🟥 He finds this trait quite valuable, naturally. Pokemon of any rare colouration will fetch a higher price even if they are common pokemon that most will barely register as important. Whether he believes you are a living shiny charm… He just assumes you are talented in seeking out these pokemon. There are many legends and rumours about things that make these genetic anomalies more likely to occur, of course. He had messed around with a few himself to see if it were at all possible. Unfortunately, he decided that was not the case. Or, perhaps the difference was not worth whatever it took to procure the supposed lucky items. Unfortunately, most of your gifts to him are passed along to his sellers, but he does keep quite a few nonetheless.

🟥 When you gifted him a blue, male Nidoran, you had somehow pierced his cold heart. A rare genuine smile crossed his lips as he regarded the pokemon carefully. It seemed you were aware of his tastes. He appreciated the gift thoroughly… The pokemon would join his team quite quickly, earning its place among his other pokemon. The blue Nidoking almost becoming something like an ace to him. Of course, your purple female Nidoran sparked a certain kind of joy in him. Something between a quiet claim on you and your obvious interest in matching with him. The green Nidoqueen almost represents a certain status you have within his organisation, even if you were not officially a member.

🐕Archer🚀

♦️ Your talent intrigues him, no doubt. Whether this is before or after Giovanni disbanded Rocket, he is always looking for a way to increase profits, and your generous gifts certainly give him a hand there. He is aware that he should feel worse about giving away the pokemon that you so lovingly gift to him, but he has dedicated his whole self to Rocket... Assuredly, you would come to understand. You give him so many since you seem to attract them. Part of him wants to study how you do it and imitate you, but even you seem unaware of just how you did it. It was frustrating, but he supposed it mattered little since you kept a nice supply to him. He is quite like his boss in many regards to this… There is a fake apology from him if you do seem hurt by his actions. The last thing he wants is for you to run off or lose your gifts.

♦️ He does keep some of them, though. Archer is not stupid enough to let things that clearly mean a lot to you slip away from him. And besides… Part of him does appreciate that you clearly adore him so much that you would give these gifts away. A green Zubat stays with him alongside a blue Houndour. The fact you gifted him such pokemon... He understood. They would even possibly join his team to reflect his position as an executive. (Though, only if Giovanni himself had a few shinies, too.) When you show him your bright blue Houndoom, he lets himself have a genuine smile. How cute. You wanted to match with him. Your love was clearly secured. He lets himself breathe and sends out his Houndoom. The two pokemon seem to reflect the relationship you two had in no time at all.

🥼Colress🛸

🧪 He is not necessarily sure he believes in your luck as a superstitious thing, but there is clearly something about you that does seem to attract shiny pokemon to you. Colress was fully aware of rumours about shiny charms and breeding pokemon from two different regions to increase the chances of hatching a shiny variation. There was scientific documentation even, but the increased chances were never something potentially high enough to warrant it if you were a normal person and not a breeder. He pondered what about you could attract these pokemon. Luck was something that was calculable and could be broken down, but he doubted it was just that. He is fascinated in your existence as a scientist, and he is documenting everything related to your outings. His current theory is a pheromone. Do not even ask how he got there.

🧪 Your gifts of shiny pokemon are thoroughly cherished. His research should naturally include multiple kinds of variations and variables related to pokemon and bonds, so having the chance to work with such rare pokemon gives him a chance to explore as many opportunities as possible. They are well taken care of, too, naturally. It is not in Colress's nature to be unnecessarily cruel. When you start gifting him shiny variants of his own team, his eyes light up. Even better to compare… He is utterly fascinated. When you show up with a beige-toned Klinklang, he is further elated. You chose one of his choices of pokemon species to keep as a partner. His bond with you must be quite strong, as well. There will be lots of data to observe… Prepare to be followed around by Colress and his tablet. You have entirely caught his heart and scientific interest.

♠️Grimsley❤️

♤ His intrigue is certainly up there. There was a certain theory he had about you being a good luck charm, but this was clearly some further expression of it. He fully believes that you must be some strangely lucky person due to the sheer number of shinies that you encounter.  Part of him wonders if he should strap you up with a shiny charm, have you do a certain pokemon breeding method, and see what profits are to be had. He starts internally betting your odds, wanting to figure out just what percentage you had to gather. Anything can become gambling for him, and your odds of finding a shiny Audino seem just as good as playing roulette. Really, he is simply astounded that his read on you had been even more correct that he initially intended.

♡ Your gifts of shiny pokemon are appreciated, and he takes the time to care for everything you give to him. Unlike some people, he actually enjoys gifts from his partner, and the fact that you trust him with these pokemon does mean a lot to him. Grimsley is aware of how shady he seems but feels glad that you saw through it. The shiny Purrloin you gave him was truly something cherished. He lets the blue kitten curl up in his lap any time, not caring about the fur that takes over his suits. Part of him wonders if your luck transfers over to the pokemon you gift… He supposes he could find out by training them. When you appear with a red Liepard rubbing into your side, his smirk becomes uncontrolled. Oh, is that it? He easily makes the cruel pokemon purr while meeting your eyes. It seemed you wanted to match. He was more than happy to do so. But… Well, his Liepard was a bit too jealous to do anything in the end. How unfortunate.

[akurrami]

Omg... Active fate blog...

Alright alright, can I request archer Gilgamesh and Lancer cu chulainn falling in love with the same master, and how they would compete for her attention?

Oh, The best doggo of Ireland and Gil you say?

Why of course!

Contents: Cu Chulainn (Lancer) x f!reader + Gilgamesh (Archer) x f!reader (Not seperate)

Reader is female. (as per request)

CWs: Slight mention of Alcohol for Gil.

So, Shall we get cooking?

Gilgamesh and Cu Chulainn competing for your love

Their rivalry for you wasn't anything they tried to hide. Let's say that much. Let's start with Gilgamesh. He would shower you with gifts. "The only woman worthy of My time, let alone love, among the world of mongrels deserves full access to my Treasury." That said, He expects full obeidence. If You take him to a Singularity with you, no matter how small, He insists on taking charge. Other servants see it as his ego. You know he just cares. Gods forbid you get hurt before his eyes. Enuma Elish imminent - Survival chances: Slim. Yeah that's right, he'd be so petty about you getting hurt he'd nuke anyone into outer space just to prove you need his protection. If he happens to crash at your room to sleep, if he ever does, be sure to be surrounded only by the most exquisite and highest quality silks and sheets. If you're of drinking age, he'll probably offer some REALLY well aged wine or other beverage that contains alcohol. Whenever you for example hug him in public, he won't hesitate to return it. You are his most prized treasure, he lets the world see the King of Heroes cares, when he wants to. "This much affection, attention and care would surely be enough to convince You I am the only reasonable candidate for someone of your beauty, surely?" He'd think to himself. Little did he know. Little did he know... Cu Chulainn started to fall for you pretty early on, You're beautiful, have your heart in the right place and got your head screwed on straight. What more could a man ask for? He particularly is adamant about the beauty part, He saw many beautiful women in his time, and yet he insists you're the most beautiful one he's seen to date. (Medb was NOT happy.) He'd be a God Tier flirt. Not one time did he fail to make you blush only to laugh it off. But in a fight, he gets dead serious, His Lancer form is described as the fastest Heroic Spirit when it comes to pure combat speed. AND IT SHOWS. He Blitzes the enemy who dares even look at you wrong. Much like Gil with Ea, Cu Chulainn wouldn't be afraid to bust out Gae Bolg in all it's forms and techniques for your safety. You of course cover his biggest weakness - That being watching his back. He trusts you fully, knowing he doesn't have much in terms of luck as a Lancer, he still hopes you won't be a backstabber like a certain Priest he vaguely recalls. I see Cu as a type to gift you all 18 of his rune stones. "Use them when you're in trouble, and I am not around to save the day, Master." Reminder - They can block B+ rank Noble Phantasms. Teaches you basics to use them, of course. On top of all that, I think Cu Chulainn would also train you up a bit. Not because he sees something wrong, he just wants to feel safe about you being left alone, if no other servant is up to guard you. If he sleeps on the same bed as you, he cuddles up to you instinctively, and he's always perfect - Warm in winter, and a bit cooler in summer, though he does get flustered if you point out to him how adorable he looks when he sleeps. Cu adores PDA. He loves to initiate it and being surprised by it. And when you did start getting friendly with the blue Lancer, a certain King, did not take it lightly. They'd fight often. Not argue, fight, physically. Since there's no Kotomine Kireis to hold him back, He can fight Gil for much longer than expected. (Remember, in Fate/Stay Night he fought Gil for half a day straight, before losing) With you as his Master, he feels like he could go on forever. They do it outside of Chaldea, but their battle is not only heard but also visible from far, far away. One day they decide to instead simply ask You. "Who do choose as your lover, Master?" - Gil Inquired. The choice, however, is left to you, Young Master of Chaldea. --------- Hope you liked it, @diavolosbaby and I hope I did justice what you had in mind! Stay safe out there guys, it's crazy times we live in. - Rami (Obligatory, sorry had to) Who do you choose: zASsHU or RANSA GA SHINDA (Kono Hito de nashi!)

[chevyslate158]

Threads Of Freedom 15th Hunger Games AU Archer Brown x Fem!Reader: Chapter 5 - The Devil’s Bargain

A/N: I hope you enjoy the 5th chapter of Threads of Freedom—a 15th Hunger Games AU featuring Archer Brown x Fem!Reader! 🙌 In this chapter, Coriolanus Snow finally makes his grand appearance, and trust me, his presence is not going to make things any easier for our protagonist. 😈 Prepare for more tension, manipulation, and control as he takes centre stage in this chapter. I spent way too much time stressing over trying to come up with a cover for this chapter, but in the end, I decided to create my own quotes for it instead for Coriolanus 🤷‍♀️.

I can't wait for you to see how the story continues on—more twists are on the way. 💥 There will be another post in just a few hours or less, so stay tuned with a brand new AU being introduced for Billy the Kid... A Gladiator AU 🏛️💔. So stay tuned for more!👀

As always, thank you so much for reading and supporting me! 💖

Word Count: 5.5K

Warnings: Dark themes, control, abuse of power, intimidation, threats, manipulation, mentions of hanging, obsession, Coriolanus being Coriolanus, objectification, isolation, intimidation, possessiveness, coercion, dehumanisation, peacekeeper brutality, threats of violence, and grief.

As they led me through the darkened streets, the path to the Peacekeeper base felt endless. The streets were quieter than usual, the usual hum of District 12 silenced by the heavy air of tension. The flickering lights along the way cast distorted shadows, but it wasn’t the shadows that unsettled me, it was the Peacekeepers’ firm grip on my arms, their booted feet echoing with an unforgiving cadence on the cobblestones. My mind raced with frantic thoughts, trying desperately to keep my panic from surfacing. I had to remain calm. If they saw any hint of fear, it would only make things worse. I couldn’t afford to show them that I was scared, that I was about to crack under the weight of everything threatening to overwhelm me.

The sky above was cloaked in a thick blanket of clouds, the morning air unusually still, suffocating even. The darkness pressed in on me like a physical force, making it harder to breathe, and harder to think. 

We walked past the hanging tree. Its gnarled branches twisted like skeletal fingers, reaching toward the sky as if trying to escape the earth below or the district itself. The shadows it cast stretched long and unnaturally, dark tendrils creeping toward me. My throat tightened, and I swallowed hard, the weight of fear pressing down on me. The tree loomed like a silent witness to all the pain that had passed beneath it, its very presence a reminder of the Capitol’s unyielding control over us nooses hung along the main thickest branches.

The whispers of those who had met their end there seemed to echo in my mind. I could almost feel their souls lingering, the weight of their deaths heavy in the air. The tree mocked me, its presence a stark reminder of how little power we truly had. I tried to focus on my steps, but the fear bubbling inside me made it difficult to move. What if I didn’t make it out of this? What if the Peacekeepers didn’t believe my lies? The thought of being lost, forgotten, swallowed by that tree, made my stomach churn.

I forced myself to keep walking, my feet carrying me further from the tree, but its shadow remained, a silent reminder of the dangers that surrounded me. It felt as though my dreams of escaping, of freedom, were slipping further away with every step.

I swallowed harshly, trying to hold myself together. The sight of that damn tree of everything it represented was almost too much to bear. It was as though the air around me was thick with loss, and it weighed heavily on my chest. My thoughts turned to my father, and the way his health had worsened over the last few weeks, how he was now suffering from the same illness that had claimed my mother. The realization made my heart ache in a way I couldn’t put into words.

Regret gnawed at me like a slow poison. Why hadn’t I done more for him? Why hadn’t I spent more time easing his burdens, helping him carry the weight he’d been carrying for so long? I could have tried harder, I should have tried harder. Instead, I let myself get caught up in my own selfish dreams, the longing to escape, to leave District 12 and find something more. But I should have been here, by his side, making every moment count before it was too late. How could I have let myself get lost in my own desires, knowing how fragile he was? Now, the reality of his illness felt like a cruel reminder of the fleeting nature of time, and the more I thought about it, the harder it became to breathe.

The weight of my regrets settled heavily in my chest, a dull ache that only grew deeper with every step toward the base. The silence between the Peacekeepers felt suffocating as if the very air was pressing in on me, making it hard to breathe. I couldn’t help but think of Annie, her bright smile, and the laughter we shared that seemed so far away now. I longed for more moments with her, moments I had taken for granted. I wished I could turn back time, walk with her to the Hob like I used to, just to be near her, to enjoy the simplicity of our friendship. Instead, I had been so consumed with my desire to escape, to flee this painful place, that I had pushed her away without even realizing it. The time I could have spent with her now felt like a lifetime lost.

I regretted fighting with Archer—more than I cared to admit. Regretted the harsh words I’d thrown at him, the way I’d shut him out when all he wanted was to understand. I could still feel the weight of our last conversation, the anger and hurt hanging between us like a wall I couldn't tear down. I hadn’t given him a chance to explain, too wrapped up in my own frustrations to see what he was really trying to say. I had wanted to leave—wanted to escape this place and the suffocating weight of my life in District 12—but now, as I walked through the cold streets, it felt like those dreams were slipping away, dissolving into the night like smoke. The more the distance between me and the hanging tree grew, the more it seemed like I was running away from everything I wanted, everything I needed.

A part of me just wanted to turn around, run back, and throw myself into his arms. I wanted to feel safe again, to feel like I wasn’t carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. I wanted to stay there, in the warmth of his embrace, and let everything else fade away. Because, if I was honest with myself, I cared about him more than I had ever let on. More than I had allowed myself to admit. He had become such a quiet constant in my life, someone who understood me in ways no one else could. And now, with the possibility of losing him hanging over me, I realized just how much he meant to me. How much I needed him.

In my heart, I knew that if I could just find the courage to go back to him, to apologize, maybe things could be different. Maybe we could have a chance at something more than just the unspoken tension that had started to build between us. But as I walked further away, my steps growing heavier, the idea of turning back seemed impossible stupid even. I had always wanted to leave District 12 behind, to run away and start fresh. But now, as I thought about him, I realized the truth—I didn’t just want to escape my life here. I wanted to escape with him; it was something I had to do. I wanted to build a life where the weight of the Capitol and the fear of the Games didn’t hang over us. And if I didn’t have him with me, then all those dreams of freedom felt hollow.

I had been so focused on the idea of escaping, but now, I couldn’t help but wonder if the only thing worth running toward was him.

I glanced up at the sky, the clouds thick and oppressive, and for a moment, I thought I saw the faintest hint of light breaking through, only for it to vanish as quickly as it appeared. The sunlight that was supposed to come with the morning was lost, swallowed by the swarm of clouds. It felt like a cruel joke, the dark clouds mocking my desire for freedom. It felt like everything I had dreamed of—everything I had hoped for—was fading away with the light. I had been foolish to think I could ever escape this place in the beginning.

"Get moving," one of the Peacekeepers barked, his harsh voice cutting through the whirlwind of my spiraling thoughts. His tone left no room for argument, and I nodded silently, biting down hard on my lip to keep the tears from spilling over. I couldn’t let them see me break not now, not when they were looking for any sign of weakness. Every step forward felt like it dragged me closer to my doom, and no matter how hard I tried, the knot of fear in my stomach only tightened.

The base loomed ahead, a towering, angular structure carved out of stone and iron. It seemed to absorb the faint light from the sky above, leaving it cold and lifeless. It wasn’t just a building; it was a warning, a reminder of the Capitol’s grip on us all. As the Peacekeepers marched me forward, their boots echoing against the cobblestones, I tried to steady my breathing. But with each step, the weight of my situation pressed harder on my chest.

Inside, the air shifted cool and sterile, with a faint metallic tang that reminded me of blood. The doors slammed shut behind me, the sound reverberating like a final verdict. The halls were dimly lit by flickering fluorescent lights that buzzed faintly overhead, casting uneven shadows that seemed to move as if alive. The stone walls were damp in places, their surfaces scarred and worn as if they had witnessed countless horrors over the years. The further we went, the quieter the world seemed to become, the hum of machinery and muffled voices creating an eerie backdrop that only added to my unease.

As I was dragged further inside the building, I noticed the Peacekeepers stationed throughout the halls. Some glanced at me with open disdain, their expressions twisted in disgust as if I were something foul that had wandered in from the seams. Their cold, judgmental eyes felt like a weight pressing against my chest. Others, however, looked at me differently, their gazes predatory and hungry. Their eyes raked over me as though I were something to be devoured, their smirks unsettling and dripping with malice. I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. The air grew heavier with each step, my stomach twisting with the realization that I was utterly alone here, a lamb among wolves.

I passed rows of heavy iron doors, each one marked with a number but no other indication of what lay behind it. From some, I heard faint sounds shuffling, the scrape of chains, or worse, muffled cries that sent a chill straight to my bones. The oppressive silence of the other doors felt even more sinister, as if they were holding their breath, waiting for something unspeakable to unfold.

"Move it," one of the Peacekeepers snapped, giving me a rough shove. I stumbled, barely catching myself before I hit the ground, and the cold sting of humiliation burned at the edges of my fear accompanied by the sting in my palms and cheek. I wanted to lash out but the icy knot in my throat made speaking impossible.

When we finally reached the end of the corridor, they pushed open a heavy door, its groan echoing like a death knell. The room inside was stark and barren, the walls a harsh, sterile white that seemed to amplify every sound. A metal table stood in the center, flanked by two cold, unwelcoming chairs. The surface of the table was scratched and worn, a silent testament to the countless people who had sat here before me, all of them helpless in the face of whatever judgment awaited.

They shoved me into the room, and I stumbled again, my legs trembling beneath me as though they were about to give out. My wrists were cuffed tightly to one another, the metal biting into my skin as I sank down into the creaky wooden chair, unable to stop my body from shaking. The air was thick, heavy with tension, and every breath felt like it dragged through my lungs. The silence in the room was absolute, broken only by the faint echo of my own unsteady breathing.

The walls seemed to press closer, enclosing me in a space that felt too small, too suffocating. My mind raced with the endless possibilities of what they might ask, of what they might do if my answers didn’t satisfy them. This wasn’t just a questioning; it was a reckoning. And as I sat there, staring at the scratched surface of the table, I knew there was no running from it. No escape. This was the moment when everything would change, and I couldn’t tell if I’d be able to survive it.

I tried to steady my breathing, forcing myself to think clearly. I had to prepare. Whatever was coming, whatever questions they hurled at me, I couldn’t falter. The truth wasn’t an option. I'd been at the mines late at night, trying to find a way out of this godforsaken district, and if they found out, my fate would be sealed. The hanging tree loomed in the back of my mind, its gnarled branches like fingers curling around my thoughts, threatening to drag me to my end.

I had to lie. I had to convince them I wasn’t the one sneaking around. Every story I told as a child to escape punishment, every excuse I made to avoid suspicion, it had all led to this moment. Now, my survival depended on how well I could spin my tale. My heart hammered as I rehearsed what I’d say, the excuses I’d give, the innocent look I’d force onto my face. I needed to seem frightened but not guilty, confused but not suspicious.

Lying was my only chance to walk out of here alive. I couldn’t let my nerves betray me, couldn’t let my voice shake or my eyes darted around like I had something to hide. The Peacekeepers weren’t stupid they’d see through anything less than perfection. If I wanted to avoid swinging at the end of a rope, I needed to act like I had nothing to hide. I clenched my fists at my sides, my nails biting into my palms as I forced myself to focus.

This was it. My life depended on the story I’d weave in the next few moments. If I failed, the hanging tree would be waiting.

The metallic clang of the door opening made me jolt, my back snapping straight against the cold chair. I’d expected another Peacekeeper to barge in, maybe someone gruffer, someone who would demand answers with brute force. But the figure who stepped into the room was entirely different.

He carried himself with an air of authority that seemed to suck the oxygen out of the room. Every movement was deliberate, commanding attention without a word. He stood tall, well over six feet, his broad shoulders and lean frame exuding power. His iconic blood-red suit clung to him like it was made for no one else, the fabric pristine and untouched by the dirt of District 12. The color, so vivid and striking, seemed to symbolize both danger and dominance, as if he wore it to remind everyone of his control over their lives.

His blonde hair was slicked back meticulously, not a strand out of place, and his pale blue eyes—cold and calculating—locked onto mine with an intensity that made my skin crawl. I couldn’t tear my eyes away, caught in the quiet storm that was his gaze. It was unnerving, like a predator locking onto its prey. The sharp, almost clinical precision with which he studied me made me feel as though he were dissecting me, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally.

I knew who he was. Everyone knew who he was. His reputation had preceded him, as it did with everyone in the Capitol who wielded that kind of power. The mere mention of his name sent shivers down the spine of even the most hardened rebels. President Coriolanus Snow. The embodiment of fear, control, and manipulation. But seeing him here, in the flesh, was something else entirely.

And now, here he was, in front of me, like a storm closing in.

For a moment, I couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe. My body felt frozen, as if the air itself had turned to ice around me. 

Why was he here? 

The president of Panem, in this forgotten, crumbling district? It didn’t make sense. My mind scrambled for answers, each thought colliding with the next in a tangle of fear and confusion. This wasn’t some routine interrogation. It wasn’t about the mines, the Peacekeepers, or even the Capitol’s grip tightening around District 12.

Could it be about me?

The realization struck me like a blow, stealing what little composure I had left. But why? What could I have done to warrant his presence? The weight of his cold, assessing gaze made my skin crawl, and my heart pounded so hard I was sure he could hear it. I felt exposed, like every secret I had ever held was laid bare before him. My attempt to flee, my fight with Archer, even the forbidden dreams I kept hidden in the darkest corners of my mind—it was as if he already knew.

Panic twisted inside me, but so did an unsettling sense of curiosity. Of all the people in District 12, why had Coriolanus Snow chosen to face me personally? What did he see when he looked at me? And why did it feel as though he wasn’t here to deliver justice but something far more sinister, far more personal?

“Leave us,” Snow ordered sharply, his voice smooth and cutting all at once, like the edge of a finely honed blade. It wasn’t loud, but it didn’t need to be; the authority in his tone was absolute. The two Peacekeepers flanking the door exchanged uncertain glances, their hesitation lasting only a fraction of a second before they stepped out, boots echoing faintly as they retreated.

The door closed behind them with a final, resounding thud that reverberated through the small room, sealing us in together. The silence that followed was deafening, pressing down on me like a physical weight. The absence of sound seemed to amplify everything else: the faint ticking of a clock somewhere in the distance, the soft rustle of his blood red coat as he adjusted his stance, the steady rhythm of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.

Snow’s gaze lingered on me, his eyes dark and intent, studying me with a look that made my skin prickle uncomfortably. His lips curved into a faint, predatory smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes, but somehow made the air feel heavier. Every movement he made was deliberate, calculated, as if he were savoring the moment.

He stepped further into the room, the soft click of his boots on the floor echoing with each measured step, his presence filling the space. It was as if time slowed down in his wake. He was in control of the room, of the situation, of me. He pulled out the chair across from me with deliberate care, the scraping sound of it against the floor loud in the stillness. As he sat, he folded his hands neatly on the table, his fingers interlocking with practiced precision. The way he settled into the chair was almost unnerving, as if he had done this a thousand times before, as if he had all the time in the world to break me down.

“Well,” he began, his voice smooth, like velvet wrapped around steel, every word dripping with an unsettling calm. “It seems we find ourselves in quite the predicament, don’t we?” His eyes never left mine, and there was something about the way he spoke—too measured, too controlled—that made my stomach churn.

I swallowed hard, the sound echoing in the silence between us, and tried to maintain some semblance of composure. But the weight of his gaze pressed down on me like a physical force, making it impossible to feel anything but exposed. Every inch of my skin felt like it was on fire under his scrutiny.

“Do you know why you’re here?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, his expression almost too calm, too patient. It was as if he were savoring the moment, playing some game with me I didn’t understand. He looked at me with genuine curiosity, as though he truly wanted to know what was going on in my mind.

I opened my mouth to speak, but my voice caught in my throat. My breath hitched, and I could feel the panic starting to rise, but I fought to keep it in check. He raised a single brow, as though waiting for me to speak.

“I—I’m not sure,” I finally managed, my voice barely above a whisper, the words feeling foreign and weak on my tongue. The vulnerability of it hit me all at once, and I immediately regretted saying anything at all.

“Not sure?” Snow leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed, but there was nothing casual about the sharp intensity in his eyes. His gaze never left me, as if he could see right through me. “You were seen near the mines last night. A curious place for a girl like you to be wandering about, wouldn’t you say?”

I could feel the pressure building in my chest, but I forced myself to speak with as much confidence as I could muster. “I wasn’t near the mines,” I lied quickly, the words slipping out before I could even think. My heart pounded so loud I was sure he could hear it, but I couldn’t let him see how much he rattled me. “I was at home. Asleep.”

A soft chuckle escaped him, low and smooth, though it lacked even the smallest hint of warmth. His lips twisted into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and the sound of it sent a shiver down my spine. “Asleep, you say?” He leaned forward then, his movements deliberate and slow, as if he were savoring the moment. His elbows came to rest on the table, and his fingers laced together, the tension in his posture making it clear he wasn’t buying my lie. “You don’t strike me as a very good liar, Y/n. But perhaps I’m wrong.”

The way he said my name sent an icy tremor through me. It was too familiar, too personal. My mind raced, trying to process how he knew it, why he knew it. It felt like an intrusion, like he had already dissected every detail of my life and was now toying with me, pulling at the threads to see how much I could unravel before I broke.

Snow studied me for a moment, his gaze sharp and calculating, as if he were weighing something far beyond the surface of our conversation. He didn’t speak immediately, allowing the silence to stretch, thick and suffocating, like a game he was letting me lose without ever needing to make a move.

Finally, he spoke, but the words came out slowly, almost as if he were choosing them with great care. "You intrigue me," he murmured, his voice softer, but it was no comfort. There was a subtle undercurrent to his words, like a predator circling its prey, and I felt every inch of that tension. “You remind me of someone... someone I once knew.”

His words hung in the air, and my pulse quickened as I tried to make sense of them. I stayed silent, unwilling to give him anything more than what he already had. The tension between us stretched, taut as a wire, and for a brief, terrifying moment, I thought he might break it with something that would shatter me completely.

"She was special, but no more than a means to an end," he continued, but this time, there was a flicker in his expression—something fleeting, almost disgusted, as though the thought of this 'someone' that repulsed him. The change was subtle but unmistakable like a shadow crossing his face. “But she lacked something. Something... I believe you so happen to possess.”

I felt a chill wash over me, and my stomach twisted in knots. I didn’t want to know what he meant, didn’t want to hear the unspoken things behind his words. But even as I refused to respond, I could feel his eyes on me—measuring, calculating, dissecting me in ways I couldn’t begin to understand. Whatever it was he saw in me, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

“You have potential,” Snow said, his voice smooth and coaxing, though his eyes narrowed slightly, studying me like a puzzle he was just about to solve. “But potential means nothing without control. Without loyalty.” He paused, letting the words linger in the air as if they were meant to sink into my bones.

I swallowed, trying to push down the knot of fear tightening in my chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, my voice steady, though I could feel the lie slipping from my tongue.

“Oh, but you do,” he replied, his smile widening, the corners of his mouth curling into something dark and knowing. He leaned in slightly, and the air between us seemed to thicken with each word. “You see, I don’t believe in coincidences. A girl like you, sneaking around the mines, dreaming of freedom…” His voice hardened, and the words became sharp, cutting into me. “Do you think you’re special? That you’re above the rules, above your place?”

His gaze bore into mine, demanding an answer, and I shook my head quickly, trying to swallow the panic that surged in my chest. “No, I don’t—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he interrupted his voice a blade, slicing through the quiet between us. “I can see it in your eyes. You think you’re different, don’t you? You want to escape, to run from this district, from your responsibilities. And for what? Some fleeting fantasy?” He leaned even closer, his gaze never wavering, never blinking. “What makes you think you’re entitled to more than this place? To more than the life you were given?”

The weight of his words crushed me, the reality of my situation bearing down like a vice. I could feel the tears threatening to burn behind my eyes, but I fought them back with all the strength I had left. “I’m not trying to escape,” I said, though the tremor in my voice betrayed me, revealing a crack in my carefully constructed facade.

He smiled again, but it was colder now, something calculated in the way his lips curled. “You’re lying to yourself, Y/n. And not only that you’re lying to me.” His voice dropped to a whisper, almost sweet, but it carried a chilling undertone. “I know exactly what you want. You want to be free, but more than that… you want to be wanted. To matter. You want someone to take notice, to see you for more than the girl who has her head up in the clouds and whos nothing but a dreamer.”

The words hit harder than I expected, and I tried to push them away, but they stuck, digging into my mind like sharp needles. My heart pounded, each beat echoing in my ears, and I could feel the walls of the room closing in around me. “That’s not true,” I whispered, barely able to find the words to defend myself.

“Oh, but it is,” Snow countered, his voice low and smooth, as if he were speaking a truth only he could understand. “You’re searching for something bigger than yourself. You dream of escaping, but not just the district. You want someone to take you out of this life, to pull you away from all this... mediocrity. But here’s the problem, Y/n…” He leaned in even closer, his face inches from mine, the intensity of his cerulean gaze trapping me. “You’ll never be truly free, because you can’t even control yourself. You can’t control your desires and your impulses. And that—” He tapped the side of my head lightly, a mocking gesture that made my stomach twist. “—is where you fail.”

I felt like I was drowning in the weight of his words, each one heavier than the last. He was breaking me down, piece by piece, and yet I couldn't find the strength to fight back.

Snow leaned even closer, his face now mere inches from mine. “Do you know what happens to those who try to defy the Capitol?” he asked, his voice low and chilling. “They end up swinging from that tree you passed on your way here. Do you want that to be your fate, Y/n?”

I shook my head again, swallowing the lump in my throat.

I tried to stay calm, to keep my composure, but his presence was suffocating. He leaned in even closer, his gaze intense, as if he were reading me, dissecting my every reaction. His eyes flicked to my hands, still trembling slightly on the table, before meeting my gaze again. Snow’s lips curled into a twisted smile, his eyes glinting with amusement and malice. He leaned forward again, his voice lowering to a taunting, almost mocking tone.

“Now, tell me, Y/n," he said, his words dripping with disdain, "Were you out last night, snooping around the mines, sneaking along the district fence like a pathetic little bunny, desperate to escape your cage?”

He paused, letting the insult hang in the air, his gaze never leaving mine. The words stung like a slap to the face, and I couldn’t help but flinch, but I held my ground, refusing to give him the full satisfaction of seeing me break.

“And don’t you dare lie to me,” he said, his voice low and quiet, almost too calm. “You were near the mines last night, and I know you weren’t there just for a stroll.” He let the silence hang between us, each second feeling like it dragged on forever. “But I’m not here to accuse you—no. I’m here to offer you a choice.”

My heart skipped a beat. A choice?

He stood, circling me like a predator with no rush, savouring the moment. “You see, Y/n, you could walk out of here today, and pretend like none of this ever happened. But if you dare try to escape again, if you dare think you can run from this district...” He leaned in closer, his breath cold on my ear. “I will personally make sure your father’s neck is snapped, your friends are dragged into the dirt, and as for that lover boy of yours,” he spat the words with disgust, as though the mere mention of his name left a bitter taste in his mouth, “Archer? Do you think he’s your protector? I’ll have him begging for mercy, just like the fool he is.”

He paused, his eyes narrowing as if searching for any sign of weakness. “I won’t be made a fool again by some silly district girl. You’ll stay in your place. Don’t think for a second that you have any real power here. I control everything. Everything.”

I shook my head, trying to hold back the tears, trying to swallow the lump in my throat that threatened to choke me. The weight of his threats hung in the air like a thick fog. I wasn’t sure if he truly meant every word or if this was just part of his game. But it didn’t matter. His eyes, his tone—everything about him screamed that he was in control, and he would make good on his promises if I dared to defy him.

“Good,” he said finally, his smile returning, though it was darker, more sinister than before. It made my stomach churn. “Because I think you could be...useful to me. If you prove yourself.”

I didn’t trust him. I couldn’t. But I had no choice. He was holding all the cards. I had to play along, had to pretend I was on his side, just long enough to stay alive.

“What do you want from me?” I asked, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to keep it steady.

He didn’t hesitate, his response sharp and cold. “Loyalty,” he said simply, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And obedience. You’ll find that I reward those who know their place. But cross me, and you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

I nodded, the weight of his words sinking into my chest like lead. My body screamed at me to run, but my mind screamed louder—if I did, everything I loved would be destroyed. Archer... my father... Annie... all of them. I had no choice but to obey, for now.

“Good,” Snow said again, his voice almost pleased as he straightened his uniform. “Then we’ll see what you’re truly made of.”

He turned to leave, and the door opened as the Peacekeepers stepped back in, their expressions as cold and indifferent as always. Snow paused in the doorway, his hand on the handle. He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes locking with mine one last time.

“Oh, and Y/n?” he called out casually, his tone deceptively light. “Remember, I’ll be watching.” The door slammed shut behind him, and I was left alone in the cold, suffocating silence of the room. His presence lingered in the air like a thick, poisonous fog, and the sound of his voice echoed in my head. He had made his intentions clear. This wasn’t just about interrogation. He wanted me. He needed me under his control, and if I was going to survive, I would have to play his game if I wanted a sliver of a chance of leaving this hellhole.

[fandom-go-round]

Maybe this is a weird request but I thought it’d be interesting to see some headcannons of a few of the fate servants reaction to a master that owns an extremely large amount of pets, like way more cats, dogs, birds, snakes and even fish compared to average and somehow manages to care for all of them. Particularly seeing Gilgamesh or Cu react sounds funny

Gilgamesh:

He’s surprised that you have a lot of pets but not upset. Gil lets you talk about your pets as much as you’d like, enjoying the way that your eyes light up. He doesn’t have a strong opinion on animals one way or the other, mostly because he was always too busy to take care of one. He likes to watch you interact, however, because you know all their personalities and habits.

He tries to get you random pets, usually stuff that can kill you. He’s presented you with a lion, a snake and even a baby elephant. You always insist that he put them back and he laughs as you panic. Low eye he does want to get you something that you’ll keep, not because he likes you or anything. Be on the lookout when he starts asking you questions, it means he’s trying to dig deep.

Gil encourages you to get more space when you complain about running out. Part of him is tempted to tell you to store some inside of the Gates but resists the urge. Eventually he might but for now he just helps you plan out new toys and things that you’ll need. Overall, Gil is supportive but lets you handle the dirty work, playing with the animals when you’re not looking.

Cu Chulainn:

Cu has no idea what to say when he shows up and your house is crawling with pets. He likes animals as a go to, but the sheer number surprise him. He’s happy to let you tour him around, scratching and petting the animals that will let him. Generally, he likes dogs over cats but that’s not going to stop him from trying to get the purrs.

He is impressed that you’re able to take care of all your animals but is a little concerned about you. You take the health of your animals seriously and it makes him wonder if you take care of yourself as much. Cu keeps an eye on you and will remind you if you seem to be forgetting to eat or run errands. He won’t do them for you, but he will point them out.

Cu likes to clean out the enclosures more than he would have thought. Mostly it’s because he gets to touch and handle the animals he normally can’t but there’s something soothing about the repetitive motions. He always gets the job done faster but he never complains that it’s below him. You tease him it’s because sometimes he acts more like a dog than your dogs do. He claims that it’s because you give him such nice rewards.

[archerarchives]

New Girl Blues - 2

Sterling Archer x Fem Reader

((Part 1))

The new hire seems to have earned her place, proving her endurance and loyalty to the agency. She lives another day to get to know her team a little better, one blue-eyed man in particular.

TWs: Sedation, medical talk, medical violence, gun violence, Malory is problematic.

When you finally come out of your drug-induced coma, you're alone in a hospital room. You look over at your side table and there sits a small flower arrangement. The tiny card reads "Danger zone. -A" You narrow your eyes at it, confused. You don't know what it means, but you know they're from Archer. You smile, but it's quickly wiped off your face when you realize how beaten you are. Grinning hurts.

~~~Meanwhile at ISIS

"Where the hell is Sterling?" Malory yells to the entire upper floor.

"I haven't heard from him for a few days," Lana casually inserts, still keeping her distance from the situation.

"He's probably off getting black-out drunk on an island because he got Y/N killed." Ray shrugs, much to Cyril's discomfort.

"He only knew her for a day, could he really be that bent out of shape?" Malory raises a brow. "This is just another excuse to-"

"You were saying?" Archer seems to appear on cue, standing leisurely in the doorway of the elevator as he steps out.

"Where on Earth have you been? Just days of that god damned voicemail of yours!" Archer's mother stares daggers through him.

"I went to get Y/N," he states it like it's obvious. "I said that."

"You said you weren't going!" She rolls her eyes as far back as they can go. "Lana!"

"Nope," the tall, beautiful agent exits the room, extending the 'o' vowel of her one-word sentence.

"Mother," Archer speaks with a chuckle. "You couldn't possibly have believed me." He breaks into a laugh. "That's like, textbook me." He's still laughing as his mother's glare carves holes into his head.

"So," Malory straightens her stance. "Where is Agent Y/L/N?"

"The hospital, duh?" He sets his drink down.

"How is she?" Cyril asks, butting into the conversation.

"Not... Great." Archer shifts uncomfortably.

"Not great as in she's not gonna make it, or...?" Malory takes an "innocent" sip from her glass.

"Malory!" Lana exclaims.

"What? If she's going to live, we need her brought here before she's doped up on morphine, telling every nurse in the east wing where she's been for three days!"

"How are we supposed to get her out?" Archer wants to laugh at the ridiculous notion.

"That's the beauty of defying my orders, Sterling. You figure it out!" Malory slams her door, powerfully punctuating her sentence.

"So, any ideas?" Archer turns to the gang.

"Are we sure Krieger is the best... 'Doctor' for her if she's so beat up?" Cyril shrugs at the peculiar doctor's offended expression.

"Well, mother's right. It's better than letting her compromise the agency... More than I already have and do."

"And something about that weapon trafficking ring tells me they might go looking for an infiltrating witness staying in an unguarded, public hospital." Ray raises a valid point that no one seems to have considered yet. "What would you do without me?"

"Lana," Archer turns to his co-worker turned ex.

"No! Stop dragging me into-"

"Please, you owe me!"

"No, Archer, I don't owe you. Stop saying that." She facepalms. "Look, let's go get her out of there, but it's up to you to get her back here. I'm not risking my life for someone I've only known for less than a day!" She storms off to ready herself for the "mission."

"What about you two?" Sterling faces Ray and Cyril who sit at two unoccupied desks. They glance at each other and then back to him.

"I'm only coming because I like Y/N." Ray stands. "She's the most tolerable out of all of you so far."

"I... I don't know." Cyril rubs the back of his neck.

"Figures. Cyril's half a man, what else is new?" Archer taunts.

"Fine! I'll go. I'm not half a man," he huffs, standing to join the group. Each Agent pitches an idea of how to get you out of the hospital, each plan is shot down immediately by Archer.

"Oh, my God. Let's just get in there, get some scrubs, and wheel her out."

"Seriously? Like a fucking Weekend at Bernie's? They're not gonna let her leave unconscious." Lana rubs her temples, assuming you're in some sort of coma-like state.

"What if she's on life support or something?" Cyril asks.

"Well..." Lana doesn't want to have to say it, but the answer is that they'll have to pull your plug. Archer shakes the idea from his head.

"Good enough. Let's go." He leads the team out of the break room, storming ahead of them with a confident purpose.

"I don't like it when he's serious," Cyril whispers to Ray.

"Me neither. He hasn't been this useful since... Well, ever."

"Shut it, Elton Yawn," Archer snaps.

"Oh, because I'm gay and what? Boring?" Ray crosses his arms.

"Yeah, exactly that, actually." He chuckles at his own joke. Endlessly entertained by his own wit.

At the hospital, Ray acquires two doctors' coats and a few sets of nurse's scrubs. Archer returns to the group with various name tags and stethoscopes. You're dressed as a nurse, taking the set that just happens to be your size. Archer is a doctor, hanging the stethoscope around his neck. Ray slips into a nurse's outfit, self-proclaiming it'd be more appropriate should anyone ask him anything too medically specific, as he's watching the door.

"Oh, no you don't." Lana extends a finger to Cyril who's halfway into the doctor's coat. "Hand it over."

"What? Why?" The accountant turned agent asks, finishing slipping the jacket on.

"Because we're not doing the two lady nurses and a gay routine. It's not even your size." She points to the deflated shoulders.

"A gay?" Ray asks aloud, clutching invisible pearls.

"Honestly, Cyril. Lana's a lot broader than you are." Archer shrugs, earning a hateful glare from Lana. She snatches the jacket from him and slips it on, filling it out nicely.

"Ya' know..." She narrows her eyes. Lana struts inside with a confident demeanor, blending right in. Cyril lingers near the nurse's station, with his shoulders raised in an exaggerated, insecure posture.

It doesn't take long for Lana to acquire a wheelchair. She arrives at your room and Archer lifts you and all the necessary bags of fluids and medications into a jumbled heap on the chair. You look at them with a disappointed expression, too tired and sore to give input. "Archer," Lana gives a sympathetic look. "They're not gonna let us walk through here like that."

"I don't know where all these tubes go and, honestly? I'm scared to find out." The two agents begin untangling your equipment. You do what you can to help, but your body feels heavy in this early stage of the healing process. That is, until a burst of adrenaline courses through you.

"Hey, wait. What's happening?" You repeat yourself over and over until one of them answers. They glance at each other and then back to you.

"We're taking you back to ISIS. You're not safe here." Lana gives a half-comforting effort.

"Yeah, like ISIS is such a safe haven- ouch!" Lana punches Archer's arm with brute force.

~~~Back at ISIS

"Ouch! What the hell?" The resident doctor, Algernop Krieger, rubs the newly sore spot on his head where Malory has just swatted a rolled-up fashion magazine.

"This isn't another cadaver for your iniquitous experiments! You touch her with one of those godforsaken machines, and I'll have you peeled!" The silver-haired woman stands firm.

"Peeled?" Krieger squeaks in terrified confusion.

"What's the big freaking deal? You were just about to let her get tortured to death on Gun Island anyways," Cheryl interrupts, propping her feet up on a desk. Malory swats her feet away with the magazine.

"There are some things we can't fiscally risk at this agency. We can't afford to lose every agent we have. We can, however, lose one new recruit who got taken prisoner on her first mission."

"But it was Archer's fault wasn't it?" Pam appears, eating a bear claw. "Didn't he say that?" Malory stares fire through her. "... Inappropriate."

"Does nobody do their job? Or am I paying you all for binge-eating, glue-sniffing, Sieg Heiling social hour?" Malory slaps the magazine against the door frame as she exits. Cheryl gasps, staring with wide eyes at Krieger.

"So you are a Nazi?" She asks. He rolls his eyes and sighs.

~~~Back at The Hospital

"What? No!" You protest climbing into the back of the poorly cleaned cargo van meant to carry a gurney, but they realized when they arrived that they didn't have a gurney.

"Look, time isn't really a thing we have a lot of right now. Get in the van and as soon as we get back-" Lana's bargain gets cut short.

"We'll double your morphine." Archer chuckles. That's a deal. Almost instantly you climb into the back of the van.

The gang finally gets you agonizingly situated with your bags and IVs, speeding through traffic to get you somewhere stable. The reckless driving causes your stomach to turn, and you squeeze your eyes shut in hopes that it'll still the swirling in your eyes.

Suddenly, your eyes jolt open to the unmistakable boom of gunfire. The van is being shot at. You look at Cyril who has already hit the floor, covering his head. "Oh, you guys weren't kidding." You groan as you pry yourself up off the van floor. Scrambling, you reach under the seat and feel around for any stashed weapon in a van owned by a spy agency. You sigh with relief when your fingers graze the carrying box of a small Ruger .380.

Lana's shooting through the back window from the front seat, causing a few stray shards of glass to scrape you up, but you're indifferent to it. Ray's driving as fast as he can without flipping the entire vehicle and Archer is hanging out the side door, shooting and making a mental note of the faces inside the cars in pursuit. Cyril is... Well, he's still on the floor. You finally steady yourself to rise and you sling open the back doors. A bit of your medical equipment falls out, ripping a tube or two from your arms. You grit your teeth and start shooting as small streams of blood flow down your arms from the IV ports.

With razor-sharp focus, you successfully shoot the driver in the head and kill him instantly. His car quickly veers to the left, crashing devastatingly into a power post. One chasing vehicle remains. It's a man on a motorcycle. His bike zips around the van and tauntingly loops back into your field of vision. You aim at him and shoot a few times, only to miss as your adrenaline begins to slow, and you really notice the lack of painkillers in your veins.

The man on the motorcycle fires in your direction and a bullet grazes your already weakened arm. A gash is left in the wake of the bullet. You throw the gun down and slap a hand over the fresh wound, releasing a cry of frustration more than pain at this point. As if they took your scream as a cue, Lana and Archer speak at the same time.

"Cyril!" They bark and he snaps back into reality. For the most part. Without much more direction, he grabs the gun you've tossed and starts shooting.

"Suppressing fire!" He wails, aiming at nothing. To everyone's genuine surprise, he gets the perpetrator right in the chest. The biker's grip on the steering begins to waver, and he wrecks like a crumpled piece of paper due to how fast he is going. The man is long gone, but Cyril empties the magazine before opening his eyes again. "Did I... Did I get him?"

"Yes!" You yell, slinging yourself out of the opening to grab the door. The still-shaking hero of the moment does the same, helping you get the rear doors secured so you can tend to the ever-growing collection of wounds you're amassing. "God, I didn't fill out my insurance paperwork yet."

Inside the ISIS medical bay, Krieger, under intense supervision, has you right as rain in just a few hours. Once you're stitched up and filled to the brim with morphine, you sleep off the afternoon. Hours upon hours go by and you're sound asleep the entire time.

"It makes no sense that she's still alive. Even if she was meant to bait the team back to the island, she should've been long gone by the time you actually got there." Krieger says, fidgeting with some mechanical nonsense lying around the room.

"Yeah... Three days is," Archer hesitates.

"A really long time to be tortured and drugged on an island?" The doctor finishes his sentence and Archer narrows his eyes at him.

"Yeah, a really long time." The blue-eyed spy turns to leave, ignoring his own minor injuries. "Just keep an eye on her until I get back."

"Aren't you guys sort of at risk of being attacked after that car chase?"

"Yes," Archer huffs. "What about it?"

"Aren't you worried?" Krieger raises a brow, wondering if he should be taking precautions for an invasion.

"If I worried about a fraction of the stuff I should be worried about, I would never get anything done." He leaves to rest his aching body.

~~~Later, ISIS Medical Quarters

"And she didn't talk?" Malory looks down at your sleeping body with raised eyebrows.

"No, mother. She didn't. So we left her there for three days for no reason." Archer scowls.

"Oh, whatever. It's impossible to keep up with your fixations." She tosses her hands up. "Any other time you'd have suggested leaving someone behind before I ever had to say it!" She leaves the room, most likely looking for a drink. Archer knows that's true. He never sees it coming until it's there. It starts with a pretty face and he can't control where it goes from there. Or who this feeling comes out for.

When you finally awaken, the room is dark and empty. It's late at night, peeking into the dark morning. The peace and quiet remind you of how badly you missed it. You'd been beaten, borderline tortured, starved, and sleep-deprived. Yet your lips were sealed. A sense of pride washes over you as you blink in your surroundings. Where am I? You think to yourself.

"Oh, hey. You're awake." Archer enters your medical room and turns on one set of lights.

"I am awake. And, a little blind now." You squint under the sudden brightness. You raise a hand to block the light, but also so you can get a better look at him. You hardly realize you're smiling until it stings the split on your lip.

"I uh, went back for these." He holds up an absolutely wrecked version of the very flowers he left in your hospital room. Tiny card and all.

"Oh, thank God. I was worried about those."

"Really?" He furrows his brows.

"No." You flatten your expression. "What day is it?" Finally, the awkward silence is broken.

"It's the 6th." Archer takes a slouching seat in the nearest chair.

"Oh, wow." A silence falls over the two of you. "Took a while to get back, huh?" You ask, mostly indifferent. Several things could've held the team up.

"That wasn't- I didn't-" he fumbles with his words, reaching dependently for his flask.

"Shut up," you laugh, wincing as you do. "Name of the game." You swallow the lump in your throat that's begging to ask if you were supposed to be rescued at all.

"How many times did you get shot? Like in total?" He attempts to change the subject.

"Only twice. You and that guy on the bike." You rub your arm. "Same fucking arm too." You feel a devious smile spread across your face. "Thank God Cyril was there."

"What? Seriously?" His eyes widen in disbelief. "I chartered a plane back to a compound we had just ransacked-"

"Jesus Christ, I was kidding!" Your declaration silences his whining. "Thank you for coming back for me at all, Archer."

In the following weeks, he's by your side daily, helping you around your apartment or sending his valet to pick up your prescriptions. The whole office is all but disgusted at this strange behavior. After a while, your strength is back up and you're ready to be back in the field.

~~~Your First Day Back

"Thank you for letting me keep all my limbs, doctor." You shake Krieger's hand.

"Wait, was that an option?"

"Whatever you're talking about, shut up." Archer bursts into the conversation. "Y/N," he extends his arm out to you, eyes shining like a smitten puppy. You laugh, and link your arm with his. He guides you to his office, pouring you both a glass of whiskey regardless of the early hour of the day.

"What? No thank you, It's 9 AM." You laugh. "And I'm a vodka woman."

"Vodka at 9 AM?"

"No, nothing alcoholic at 9 AM." You laugh with a sigh.

"Y/N, I feel like I need to apologize, you know, for," he seems to search hard for the words. You roll your eyes, dumbfounded by his arrogance.

"For almost getting me killed? For being the reason my face still looks like I do roller derby?" You huff, crossing your arms. Sterling takes a comforting sip of his drink.

"Well, to be fair, I'm also the only reason you made it back," he shrugs smugly.

"Only? Was no one else coming back for me out there? Is that why it took you so long?" You feel a bolt of unchecked anger strike through your body, quickening the pulse in your chest. "I mean I guess I always knew deep down, but I didn't want to believe it."

"Wait, Y/N," his eyes widen. It becomes apparent he's said the wrong thing.

"Was it just you?" You ask, pinching the bridge of your nose with a macabre chuckle. How mad can you be in an industry like this? His shoulders relax at the sound of your laughter.

"No, well, yes- sort of. Ray was pretty enthusiastic about it."

"Love him," you whisper as you place a hand on your heart.

"Well I mean, come on. Don't be angry at me for saving you." He shrugs.

"Unbelievable," you toss your hands up.

"You didn't even know what the plan was if you were on life support-"

"Oh my God, please stop digging." You're only half serious by now.

"The rescue itself was me, so... You're welcome." He smirks, finishing his glass. You roll your eyes, internally processing how little you must matter to the agency at this stage of your career here.

"Well, thank you Agent Archer," you take the glass he poured you. "For cleaning up your own mess." You down the shallow drink in one graceful gulp.

"World's greatest agent," he proclaims, pouring himself another glass. "Now, the matter of repayment..." He swirls his newly poured drink.

"Repayment? No, I think your coming back for me just about covers it. Albeit three days later." You raise an eyebrow, flipping the script and reminding him not to push his luck.

"Sure, we'll call it your repayment." He leans back in his seat. "My house. Dinner."

"I thought you'd never ask."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Notes:

I hope the "finishing sentences with different scenes" trope is translating well on here. If not I'm gonna kill myself. ❤️ Thanks for reading!

Also!!! Next chapter will mostly likely contain smut, so if that's not your wave, keep an eye out for my next stories outside of this series!

((Part 3 coming soon!!!))

[eepy-cookies]

hello! can we have slight lemon of wind archer? but as a free choice for you to do whatever you can think of!!

May I be known as 🐈‍⬛- anon? :)

Hmmm, I wonder what did you do to Wind Archer Cookie?

[xximperioxx]

Help Me Hold Onto You

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.1k (not proofread)

Warnings: parent death (mother) , mourning, panic attack/breakdown(reader throws up), patient death, robby walks in on reader having a panic attack, fluff, age gap, medical inaccuracies, very brief mention reader having tattoos

Notes: For some reason did not include a dad but oh well. Probably why the reader has a thing for Robby. this took me a while to write idk. Also I based the panic attack symptoms on mine so pls don’t come at me. Totally listened to The Archer by Taylor Swift while writing this. Thank you for all the love recently and hope you enjoy <3

——————————————————

You don’t hear Robby’s voice telling you to call the time of death until he puts his hand on your shoulder. You flinch.

You silently watch Donnie and Mateo cover the woman’s body.

“She was your family?” Mel asks

Your eyes pull away from the now sheet covered body to look at her confused, “No, she-she came in yesterday.”

She sees your confusion and nervously rocks on the heels of her feet. “Oh. You called her mom, I just assumed.”

Your head whips up and your eyes burn with anger. “No, I didn’t.”

Mel shrinks and is about to open her mouth before Robby pops his head back into the room instructing everyone to take a break.

An irritated scoff leaves your mouth as you slip away from the group. Donnie and Mateo share a silent look.

Your heart hurts. It’s not that you didn’t believe Mel- you absolutely did. You just didn't think you would slip like that. Someone else’s mom you couldn’t save. You let her slip away like your own mother. Same cause of death. A heart attack.

You come to a stop and your hand rests at your chest. Your heart thumping loudly. Your eyes begin to burn as you try to focus your breathing.

Your feet move you to the closest bathroom which happens to be the unisex bathroom.

You bust open the bathroom door, fully hyperventilating now.

You couldn’t save her. You didn’t even get to say goodbye to your own mother.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mel finds herself approaching Dr. Robby at the hub. “Dr. Robby,” She interrupts, “I’m um… concerned about Dr. (Y/N).”

Robby continues his work on the tablet, “Well, she did just lose a patient, Dr. King, and that doesn’t get easier no matter how many times.”

“She kept calling the patient ‘mom’. At some point during compressions I heard her say, ‘Please don’t do this mom’.” Robby’s eyes glance up with concern. She continues, “I tried to ask her about it and she got angry.”

He sets the tablet on the counter. “I’ll check in on her.” He gestures to the screen, “And you keep up the good work with your patients.”

As Dr. King walks away, Robby slides his glasses to the top of his head before running his hands down his face. He knew something was up. Normally the two of you worked in sync. Two peas in a pod. You were his top senior resident, not that he would admit it out loud.

You were always in his eyesight and even on your days off, Robby’s eyes would search for you. You had taken a few days off during the week and you had left suddenly. Not even letting him know, he had found out from Gloria you would be taking a few days off due to personal reasons. He knew something was wrong when he texted you and never got a response or when you had come back to work with dark circles under your eyes. You looked fragile and not your usual radiant, lighthearted self. There were no jokes, no smiles, no laughs, no glances directed at Robby or anyone in the Pitt.

Robby had watched Gloria approach you at the beginning on your shift. How she took your hands and gently told you something he couldn’t read on lips. How you gave her a weak smile as you said thank you. When you just silently stood with your arms around yourself for a few moments after Gloria walked away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You slide to the floor gripping at your chest and neck as if it would help you breathe.

You don’t hear the door open with the ringing in your ears nor do you see who swiftly comes into the small bathroom. Your eyes are closed with the intent of trying to focus on your heartbeat. Hopefully to also stop the tears from flowing.

Robby rushes into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He let out a sigh of relief, finally catching a moment to pee.

The sound of a zipper causes your eyes to peek open. A noise attempts to come out of your throat. You recognize the navy blue sweatshirt and cargo pants. Your head finds itself back in between your knees.

Robby jolts at the sudden noise, “Jesus – fuck.” He whips his head around. His eyes widen at the sight of you. “Fuck, (Y/N).”

He quickly zips his pants back up ignoring his belt as he kneels in front of you. His hands pull your face up, his eyes scanning your face. Your name continues to slip from his mouth.

Your eyes open and your vision is still fuzzy. His fingers graze over some stratch marks on your neck before checking your pulse. 160 bpm. Your shortness of breath suddenly turns into dry heaving. Without thinking, you shove Robby to the side and retch into the toilet. All that comes up is the iced coffee you had this morning.

Robby places a gentle hand on your back. You let out a deep sigh of relief. Finally feeling like you can breathe again as if you threw up the heavy feeling in your chest. You finally pull your face away from the toilet and let your body relax. Grabbing some toilet paper, you wipe the lingering tears on your face before looking at Robby.

“I’m sorry for interrupting your bathroom break,” your voice raspy. A tired smile attempts to form.

He leans against the bathroom wall with you. He doesn’t say anything. His eyes studying you. “You doing okay?”

You blink.

He takes in your bloodshot eyes and the dark circles before letting out a nervous chuckle at your reaction.

“Besides the fact that you walked in on me having a panic attack?” You press your lips into a fine line, “Just peachy.”

He nods and nudges your shoulder with his. “What’s going on? You’ve been distant.”

You scoff while standing up. Robby lets out a groan as he stands up, his joints yelling at him. You turn the faucet on and begin washing your hands. Your eyes meet his in the mirror.

“Talk to me,” he pleaded.

You wipe your hands,“That’s rich coming from you.”

Robby wants to flinch. There had been moments in the past where you had begged him to tell you how he was feeling whenever he would shut himself down. You had begged him to let you help him. You always saw right through him. He always pushed you away and you would always pull him back in.

He sighs. “I just want to help you. I’m worried about you.”

You huff, “Just stop. I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

Robby tries to reach for you. You jerk away as your voice wavers, “Please just leave me alone. I-I want to be alone.”

His heart breaks. You sound like him. His lips press together as he watches you unlock the door. He runs his hand through his hair. The roles are reversed now.

You pause before leaving, “Don’t forget to piss.”

All you hear is a snigger as you slip out of the bathroom.

You make your way to the hub. Your eyes up to see Langdon already staring at you. A small smirk resting on his face.

You sigh, “What?”

He leans against the counter, “Don’t think I didn’t notice you just walked out of the single bathroom Robby happens to be in.”

The two senior residents watch Dr. Robby walk out of the bathroom. You quickly clear your throat and reach over Langdon, grabbing a tablet, “You just love being an asshole, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Robby would never want to admit it to himself but you’re the one he would risk it all for. Yet he’s too scared to act on his feelings with you. When he looks at you, he’s reminded of his failed relationships and deep down he knows he’s better off alone. He wouldn’t make you happy in the long run. You’re young. You have your whole career left ahead of you and he doesn’t want to put that in jeopardy.

Dana snaps her fingers in front of Robby’s face. He gently shoves her hand out of his way. Her hands now on her waist.

“I’ve been calling your name for like two minutes.” She searches his face. “You okay?”

He aimlessly nods, his mind still on you. Dana gives him an update regarding some patients. Half listening, he glances past Dana and focuses on you. You meet his gaze.

Robby interrupts her, “Do you know what’s going on with (Y/N)? She’s not herself.”

Dana tries to joke, “Worried about her, lover boy?” He gives her a look. “Right. Well, the poor kid just lost her mother. She just lost a part of herself. So of course she’s going to be out of it.”

Robby's face falls. His heart drops. The pit in his stomach is now bigger. Why didn’t you tell him?

Dana notices the look and frowns, “Did she not tell you?”

He goes to look for you but you’re nowhere to be seen. He shakes his head out of frustration. “It’s like she’s shutting me out.”

The charge nurse puts her hand on his shoulder, “Sounds like someone I know.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robby finds you making a coffee an hour later. Just as you’re about to take a sip, Robby takes the cup out of your hand and tosses it in the trash.

“Robby, are you fucking serious?” If looks could kill.

“You’re going home.”

“What?”

“Grab your bag. You’re going home.”

This time you laugh. You brush past him.

He backs up, blocking the doorway. “I’m serious.”

You look at him unimpressed, “Well, jokes on you I don’t have any more PTO or sick time so I can't leave.” You try to sneak under his arm through the doorway.

His arm curls around you, stopping you once again. He sighs, “As your attending, I am making the decision to send you home.”

You furiously blink away some tears, “You’re going to pull the attending card now, Robby?”

He silently nods.

“Y-You don’t understand I need,” you let out a shaky breath, “–I need to work. Please Michael.”

His lips press into a thin line as the sinking feeling in his chest returns. He was trying to do what’s best for you.

Robby’s arm drops. He looks down and gently takes a hold of your hand, “You need to mourn.”

You rip your hand away. Almost angry he knew about your mother. Your lips trembling while shaking your head, “No-No, I don’t.”

Robby lets out a deep breath. “Please.” Finally, you look up at the man in front of you. “You need to go home.”

You stand there, bitterly wiping away tears as you watch Robby walk away to grab your backpack from the hub. You sniffle.

How could he just send you home like this? How could you let yourself break down this much? He can’t just do this to you when you have tried to help him mourn Adamson for years. You angrily take your bag from his hand and brush past him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Jess, if I get any more sympathy flowers I’m going to start giving them back as a warning. Like an omen.”

Your roommate, Jessica, takes the vase of flowers from you. “I like them. They brighten up the apartment.”

You begin to walk to your room, “Yeah...nothing like being reminded your mom just died with flowers.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” She yells from the other room.

You lay on your bed, picking at your fingers. Your eyes close. You haven’t slept in days. You have a migraine from crying. Any time you were alone your thoughts were plagued with her. Childhood memories. Her passing. The future without her. She would never see you get married, meet her grandkids, see you succeed.

Your mind wanders to Robby. She would never meet him. You talked about him enough that she probably had him imaged out. You see him with you. Your future. Together.

Your eyes pop open. Did you just think about marrying him? Suddenly your heart aches, feeling guilty with how you treated him. You were shutting him out. You don’t want to push him away. God if anyone knew what you were going through it would be him.

You stare at the ceiling fan. Maybe you should text him.

“(Y/N)! You have a special delivery.” Your roommate sings out.

You sigh and curl into your bed. You hear her call your name again.

Slowly but surely you stand up from your bed. Your feet pad against the wood floor as you make your way to the living room. You can hear Jess making small talk with someone. “Jess I told you - give the flowers back. Let them be an omen.”

You pause when you see Robby in your apartment. Tired eyes, a warm smile on his face, a hand in his sweatshirt pocket, the other holding a coffee, and his backpack on the floor by his feet. He’s still in his scrub top and cargo pants meaning he had come right after work. To see you.

“What are you doing here?”

His eyes move away from Jess, taking you in. Your hair still damp from a shower, an oversized college shirt, and a pair of pajama shorts. Robby’s eyes can’t help but trail up your legs, noticing tattoos he didn’t know you had.

He snaps out of it, clearing his throat. “I brought you a coffee.”

“To make up for the one you threw out?”

He nods. You purse your lips to stop you from grinning. You take the coffee from his hand.

“I’m uh–going to go grocery shopping. Please make yourself at home.” Jess picks up her bag from the kitchen table. She hesitates, stopping by you. She whispers with excitement, “Is this doctor daddy?”

With a roll of your eyes, you give her a shove. You notice the tip of Robby’s ears turned bright red at the not so quiet comment. Your roommate waves goodbye before heading out.

You take a seat on your couch. “How’d you find my address anyways?”

Robby rubs the back of his neck, “Langdon.”

“That little fucker,” you mutter. He cracks a smile.

Robby follows you to the couch. He walks over to a shelf, admiring your life outside of work in pictures. You sip your coffee. It’s quiet.

He gently picks up a face-down picture frame. It’s you and your mom smiling at each other. You watch him as his eyes study the picture.

“I’m sorry,” you finally speak up. “I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want people knowing.” You sigh, “I guess it’s been a way for me to feel like the whole thing never happened.”

He takes a seat next to you. Your knees touching, “You don’t need to apologize. Especially to me.” He takes a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to send you home like that– I just don’t want you to end up like me.”

“I know you didn’t get to mourn Adamson like you should have. I know it still haunts you.”

He shakes his head almost wincing at his mentor’s name, “I could see myself in you today and that terrified me.”

He reaches for your hand and intertwines your fingers. Your eyes become watery, “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Robby mutters, “I hated that you shut me out.”

Looking down, you blink away your tears, “I just feel so broken. Alone.”

He looks at you and whispers quietly, “I’ll put you back together,” he lets go of your hand. His calloused fingers trace your jawline, gently turning your head to look at him. “Just like you’re doing with me.”

Your eyes search his, “You would stay?”

A grin spreads onto his face, “Can’t get rid of me. Even if you tried.” His face softens, “Help me hold onto you.”

Your face mirrors his, “I mean I’ve held onto you this long.”

Robby jokes, “I know how you feel now when you try to take care of me.”

You lean into him, “I can be pretty annoying.”

He smirks and leans in closer, “I’d say so.”

“Maybe that’s why we work so well together.”

He brushes your hair out of your face, “And why’s that?”

“We see right through each other.”

There was never a time where you didn’t see through Robby’s bullshit lies. Whenever Gloria would get on his nerves, when he was struggling with his depression or anxiety, or when he had a tough patient. Robby always seemed to know when you didn’t get enough sleep, having a rough mental health day, when you were hangry, or when you just needed a hug.

Robby’s dilated eyes dart down to your lips.

“Are you going to kiss me, Dr. Robinavitch?” You murmured. Your soft lips brush against his.

“If you’d let me.”

He takes your nod as a yes. Robby closes the gap between you and connects your lips together. You immediately reciprocate, gently kissing him back. His rough calloused hands cup your face, deepening the kiss.

After a few seconds you slowly pull away. His forehead rests against yours.

You let out a soft laugh. “I’ve thought about that for an embarrassingly long time.”

A groan rumbles at the back of Robby's throat. “You don’t want to know what I’ve thought about.”

You snicker before placing a soft kiss beneath his beard. “We can discuss that later.”

He pulls your legs over his lap and wraps his arm around you. Your head rests on his chest as his hand rests on your bare thigh.

You listen to his accelerated heart beat slowly calm. He lays his head on top of yours. The two of you sit in comfortable silence. You stifle a yawn.

“I wish you could have met her,” you whisper.

“I would tell her she has the most intelligent and beautiful daughter…” his thumb gently caressing your skin, “And that she won’t have to worry about you because I’m not going anywhere.”

Your heart swells, “Thank you.”

“Adamson is proud of you. I know it.” You mumble into his chest. Robby releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding. A sense of reassurance floods him. Something he hasn’t felt in a while.

After a few moments, Robby hears your breathing become slow and rhythmic.

Robby sighs, “I would also tell your mom–I have loved her daughter for a long time and have just been too afraid to admit it.”

“I love you too, Michael.” You tiredly mumble as the curve of your mouth curled up slightly.

He presses his lips to the top of your head with an embarrassed smile.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jessica comes back to the apartment to find the two of you on the couch. Robby quietly snoring and you in his arms, sleeping for the first time in days.

[dreamyblanket]

If it’s not too much to do, can u draw wind archer cookie with y/n cookie please?

I'm brain rotting over deceit legendarys atm

[salynaa]

Wind archer x Reader, Hum admiring Y/N without realizing it. Just lost in thoughts lol

~Wind Archer Cookie

Oh, look like someone has some competition...

I would like to know for any new request if you guys want the drawing in digital or on paper!<3

[auty2-0]

doodles of wind archer from a month or so

[gingerbread-in-july]

Something that really sucks about Elle barely being on the show is the fact that we don't really see any fic scenes showing the friendship dynamic she would have with the reader like we do with all the other team members.

Like, she doesn't scream girl's girl at first glance, but once she lets her guard down, she'd be a total ride or die.

I'm imagining reader being upset about Spencer kissing Lila and Elle's ride or die bitch mode just a c t i v a t i n g.

Elle would absolutely let him h a v e i t.

She would definitely be the kind of friend who would take you out on the town and encourage you to get over Spencer by getting under somebody else (or on top if that's what you prefer).

She's also a hype woman. Even if all you did was mope all night, she'll be telling the whole BAU how hot you looked and that people could not stop checking you out.

And you know what?

It would work like a charm. Spencer would be such a jealous little bitch once he found out. Now suddenly all he can think about is you. Mission accomplished, all thanks to your girl Elle's brilliance.

(Or, because I don't know how to not be gay, you and Elle would end up falling for each other.)

[leggerefiore]

Archer, Volo, and Grimsley reacting to the reader having a crush but not knowing it’s on them? In the mood for some silly miscommunication rn and I’d love to see them all be like “idc who you like haha” (actually cares very much)

I saw ur other ask so I got you lol

cw: confessions, jealousy, misunderstandings

characters: Avery, Archer, Volo, Grimsley

🎩Avery🥄

🔮 When you began seeming more out of it during your times out together, Avery first worried that you were no longer interested in being friends with him. He was fully aware of, while trying to ignore, the way he felt about you. But, it was soon obvious by the way your eyes lingered on your phone that it might be something else. He was quite a bit oblivious, in truth. The idea of you having a romantic interest in anyone did not cross his mind until you plainly said that you did to apologise for your absent nature while being together. For a moment, the psychic screamed in his mind for the abilities that the rest of his family had. Who? Who could you have interest in? He desperately needed to know – his heart raced in response to this, and his laser focus on telekinesis slipped.

🔮 “Well, there is someone I like… They've been on my mind a lot lately,” you told him simply while having tea with him. Avery's glasses could have fogged up from the temperature shift of his, quickly his face warmed. He nodded for a moment, taking in your words. Silently, he pleaded for you to continue on and tell him. For once in his life, he bit his tongue. Part of him desperately wanted to know, while the other half screamed for ignorance. You were too flustered, it seemed. He felt himself slipping. His feelings for you… Were they not obvious? His focus was almost entirely on you – despite his ego, he let you remain at his side so openly (granted, you did often feed said ego with compliments). He tried to think of anyone you could have mentioned that you would have feelings for. He even tried to turn back to telepathy, but he was still quite unable to read minds despite his desperation in that moment.

🔮 Eventually, you spoke again, seeing his intense reaction. His face shifted into an almost pitiful expression. Smiling at him, you shook your head. “I like you, Avery,” sublity was not an art best used on the blond. His slight inferiority complex did not allow for himself to put himself as your first option, despite wanting that most of all. His face became even more mortified for a moment… Pupils shrinking from the shock. Then, he felt his smug expression return. He blinked. Of course, it was him. Who else would it be? All his previous worries flew out the window in the face of this. Instead, he accepted your confession with ease. It was like he was never panicked in the first place. Avery knew everything would end up like this… A Future Sight told him, of course… He will never admit to his immense worry that you had feelings for someone else.

💫Volo📜

⭐️ The merchant is observant of everything. His eyes took note of every little thing – It was part of what made him good at being a salesman and his hobby of history. That eye for detail let him catch on quite quickly to who was a threat to his plans or who was not. You ended up being on the threat side – naturally, since you fell from the sky and seem to just have everything fall into place for you to dismantle everything he worked so hard to create. But, whatever bitter feelings were held mixed horribly with this strange affection in his chest. You were an outsider – like him. You both shared such horrible experiences of being othered. He felt this sick attachment grow deeper and deeper as he spent more time at your side. Your trust… He adored it more than anything. How you looked to him for aid… Which is why he felt himself pause when you suddenly exclaimed that you had feelings for someone.

⭐️ “I… I have this person I love so dearly,” you had told him, while staring into his eyes, “I don't think I can tell them. I doubt they return my feelings…” The first thought in Volo's mind is he certainly hoped they did not return anything you felt. Cruelty meant nothing to him – He did not want anyone else to be with you aside from himself. His new world… His initial intentions to remove you entirely had shifted into keeping you at his side. That was your place. It was with his usual amicable facade that he smiled at you and inquired simply into who that might be. He could give you advice, he claimed. He was familiar with a lot of different people, after all. You refused, saying it was too embarrassing. Volo sighed. Forcing you to admit it might ruin the precious trust he worked so hard to build with you.

⭐️ He then found himself stewing on it for days. Who? Who could it be? The Diamond Clan leader? He always seemed popular. That professor? It was unlikely, but he supposed not impossible. He found himself following you more often, trying to figure it out. Nothing came to him. Who could it be? It was rare that something was so well hidden from him. How could your supposed romantic interest be more elusive than Arceus itself? It was maddening. That was, until you caught yourself alone with him again. You shifted uncomfortably before declaring your feelings… for him. “I… I like you, Volo!” Those words… He felt taken aback for a moment before he could not help but chuckle. Of course… Right… He happily reciprocated your feelings. This was how it should be, after all.

♠️Grimsley❤️

♤ The gambler would consider himself a master of reading people. You, in particular, were an easy read for him due to your closeness. He understood you well. Which is why he noticed quite quickly when your behaviour shifted. It was not like he was intentionally paying too close attention, but whenever he invited you out, he quickly spotted how distant you seemed to be. The first few times, he shrugged it off as off-days, yet it was unchanging. He felt himself growing concerned before it hit him. Teasing you, he asked first, naturally. Though some part of it was definitely sick curiosity. He was well aware that he was straightforward in his attraction to you, but there was an obvious rejection of his advances on your behalf. He wondered who had caught your attention.

♡ “Who's on your mind, hm?” the gambler asked with a teasing lilt while he leaned against the table across from you. Your reaction was to shoot him a glare and refuse to answer. The subtle shift of embarrassment in your expression was noted by him. He wanted to chuckle. Really, who? He wanted to know. It would be a gambler to prove himself a better option, especially with his reputation and vices, but he would try. Giving you up would be a mistake that he would never forgive himself for making. His eyes narrowed as you simply denied that anyone was on your mind, despite it being obvious to him. He gave a smirk in reply.

◇ It did weigh on him despite everything. Really… He was trying far harder than he did for anyone else to charm you. He did not understand what would appeal to you. Truthfully, he was at a loss. Part of him needed to meet whoever interested you so he could grasp what they had that he lacked. (Integrity, he assumed.) But, it barely had time to fester before you caught him off guard for the first time in your time together. “It's you, Grimsley,” you said simply after he pushed you to tell him again. He stood stunned for a moment, mouth falling open and brows going up. Him? Really? Why had you…? He barely had time to consider it too much before chuckling. Well, whatever. He would figure out that later. It seemed that you were not immune to his charms, at least.

🐕Archer🚀

♦️ It was rare that he felt any kind of attachment towards anything unrelated to Rocket or Giovanni. But, you certainly had managed to keep his attention. An annoying rival – a nuisance to everything he worked so hard for. He only agreed to be around you to keep an eye on you. It was obnoxious, observing what you did and listening to what you said. He despised the idea of you pulling a fast one on you. Despite this, the Rocket Executive supposed it was not the worst experience. There were definitely worse tasks to be assigned, he knew. He knew you somehow had come to view him as a friend – how, he did not know. And, well, unfortunately for him, his own feelings began to make him react strangely to you.

♦️ “There's this person I'm interested in,” you told him during one of your various outings that you bad invited him to join you on. Those simple words had unleashed a strange sense of madness in his mind. Interested in? Who? Part of figured it would be good to use against you if you kept being a nuisance for Rocket, but the other half genuinely seethed at the thought of you liking someone. Why? Were they as good a trainer as you? He only wanted someone worthy to be with you. … And he only found one person worthy. Though, he dared not admit that to himself. He bit his lip and kept his cool facade to ask who it was. He simply needed to know.

♦️Your gaze shifted onto him as you smiled far too sweetly. It was not something that he often saw in his line of you. “… Well, it's you, Archer,” you admitted. He blinked. For a moment, he has heard your words but failed to process them. Yes… Him, right. That makes sense. Then it hit him. He blinked. Him? You were interested in him? It was like… a golden opportunity. He could hardly believe it, but he supposed you found him to be a friend despite everything, getting a crush was not so far off. He swallowed. The idea of being with you did not bother him as much as he expected, either. It was with a trained ease that he accepted your confession. This might prove fruitful in actually stopping you… And he supposed he was allowed to indulge himself now and again.

[totallynotashieldagent]

Can we please get some honey Damian Wayne thoughts… literally crumbs. Also I am majorly obsessed with your Damian x reader fic, it’s so good

hiiiii thank you so much!!! i didn't know damian was so well loved tbh, he was gonna my silly goober lol but SURE of course!! here's more dami!!

Damian Wayne who felt that words were a waste and it was better to show than to say.

It starts small. Mentioning a that you liked a certain pastry from a shop too out of the way from work and home, so, you made turned it into a special occasions treat. Because it would always take too long in Gotham traffic to go and get it. And the petrol wasted would make you rethink if the sweet was even worth it.

It took one mention only and the next thing you knew was a delivery being set up. Every Sunday morning, without fail. There it would be. And you knew it took extra effort because the tiny mom&pop shop didn't even do deliveries. So, you could only wonder how much Damian was spending on this 6$ treat.

When you confronted him, saying that it wasn't worth the effort, he simply tutted at you and rolled his green eyes, mumbling a, "Don't be ridiculous."

But you saw it so clearly. The sparkle in his eye and the smallest upturn of his mouth. Closest thing to a smile you were ever going to get this early on.

Then came the umbrella.

There had been a storm and he'd called you during your lunch to ask about your day. You'd sighed and moaned and told him how you could to work completely soaked. Your shoes full of water because the wind had been too harsh and your umbrella had broken and flown away and now you needed shoe shopping as well.

When you got home that night, drying and cleaning up, during dinner, the phone buzzed and the bell rang simultaneously. Wedging the phone between your ear and shoulder, you opened the door to a man you didn't know.

"That's Johnathan. He's brought a selection of shoes you usually wear." Damian's voice came through the device. "And I've sent a better umbrella. It should arrive by tomorrow morning."

You stared at the hung up phone and at the man at your door that had too many boxes of shoes in his arms and at the doorstep.

The smaller things grew into bigger.

How his schedule moved around when you told him which days you had off and when you'd be busy.

Lunch deliveries on most days with the most extravagant of ingredients and a small note signed by him, telling you of where something specific was from. Local strawberries taste like cardboard, so the ones you got were from France. Gotham's honey is like drinking sewage slurry, so you got Rose Honey from Russia.

How his hand always found yours, no matter who looked. How he'd always push his shoulder against you to support your weight if you ever blinked too long.

It grew and grew and you couldn't help one night to joke at him.

"You're quite the romantic, you know." You laughed softly and he'd simply rolled his eyes.

"I'm not going to apologize for being observant." He said sharply, but there was that look again in his eyes. The one that made you sure he was thriving on providing you with anything- everything- you never asked for.

.

.

.

Drabble Masterlist

[sumthinganarchy]

finally got done with this, so here another gif. still new to making gifs, so its clunky, but we already feel myself getting better at it!

hopefully more wind archer x reader content soon lol

[the-thing-withfeathers]

the archer’s arrow part 2 (w.a.)

are you hiding something?

part one | next part

a/n: teehee i am so sorry for the wait but i hope y’all enjoy this one <3

pairing: wednesday addams x female reader

warnings: mentions of blood & death

➶ ➶ ➶

thwip!

it was your arrow, definitely your arrow.

“go! wednesday! go!”

and your voice, definitely your voice.

wednesday gasped awake, sitting up instantaneously. she gripped her chest, bunching the fabric of her shirt up into a fist. her head turned to look at her alarm clock.

she was awake ahead of schedule but she was grateful she woke up when she did. she immediately got dressed, the stomping of her boots lining the walls of ophelia hall.

she reached your room, knocking thrice before stepping back.

you were already dressed, today was an early practice day.

“wednesday, you’re early.” you tilted your head, stepping aside to let her in anyways.

“i value punctuality.” she lied. she was getting better at coming up with them in her efforts to try and hide her true intentions from you.

a bit of her looked disheveled, like she had rushed to get there. you noticed her braid a little out of place and her socks mismatched— both black but definitely not from the same pair.

“right. well, let me finish this and i’ll be ready to go.” you took to your chair at your desk, settling back down.

wednesday noticed that there were a couple of envelopes littered across your desk. you were in the process of writing letters.

“you’re writing.” she pointed out.

“yes, wednesday. thats something i can do too.” you joked back, she remained stoic.

“what are the letters for?” she inquired.

“mainly family but also for some of my friends at the academy.”

“i understand your family lives remote but surely your friends have phones?” she furrowed her brows.

“they do, but we think letters hold more sentiment.” you clarified, scribbling more words onto the piece of parchment paper you had aquired. “and it’s always nice to receive things in the mail.” you shrugged.

“i suppose you might be right.” she agreed. you were surprised to hear her validation.

her eyes followed the ink that your pen left behind. it caught her attention particularly when you drew a heart next to someone’s name on the envelope.

you sealed the letter and then proceeded to stand, grabbing your gear from your closet. you opened the door for wednesday, allowing her to exit first.

you two walked side-by-side down to the practice range.

“did you have many friends at the academy?” she asked as you exited ophelia hall.

“many? not many. but a good handful. they were all very kind. i would love to know them forever.” you smiled, reminiscing at the memories you shared with them.

“any more than friends?” she asked, not looking at you. you looked at her with your lip curled. at the back of your mind, you questioned her curiosity about your romantic life.

“who’s asking?” you retaliated, a smirk plastered on your face. you glanced at her only to be met with a glare. you knew you would certainly meet your end if you left the question unanswered.

“yes, wednesday. i had a girlfriend.” you sighed, rubbing your eyes. it was a bit of a sore spot, this topic.

but wednesday cared not for sore spots.

“what happened?” she pryed further. why was she pushing those buttons so much?

the memories of her rejection flooded through your brain. she had no right to ask these things. you remember how the look on your face was probably the single most heartbreaking thing most of your fellow students have ever seen.

“why are you asking about this, wednesday?” you practically hissed at her.

“i’m not going to take advantage of your practice times and not get to know you.” she spat back.

“you… hm.” you paused. “i never thought i’d be answering questions from wednesday addams. you’ve changed too.”

“so answer them if my question intrigue you so much.” she continued walking at your pace.

“fine. we split up because i wanted to come back and we couldn’t do the long distance.” you answered openly. “but we’re still friends. she and i were very close, she helped me through a lot.”

you continued to stride towards the forest as wednesday simply watched you. you had someone, but were fine giving it all up to come back. the feeling opened a pit in her stomach, if only you had known what she was hiding.

—

she had taken a liking to your routines in the wilderness.

“i purposefully try to miss.”

you had told her that was the closest thing you could get to immersing yourself into your environment. murder of fauna in the nevermore woods was frowned upon, so you had to learn control.

“isn’t that counter productive?”

she asked back, but you proved her wrong. your control was incredible. nicking a squirrel by the hair of its tail, she watched the focus on your face as you tried to ensure it’s life.

“it’s harder to hunt down animals and make sure they live rather than die.”

today, she sat with a notebook. she said she just wanted to focus on writing up ideas for her novel while you practiced.

it was like she was your body double, just a shadow that lingered around while you did your thing. somehow, it worked. you felt more productive and so did she…

if she was working on her novel.

her pen glazed across the yellowed paper on her notebook. the ink morphed into the image of your bow. on paper, your body was facing the trees, arm reaching for an arrow from your quiver. wednesday captured your physique, how your body flexed with every move you made.

thwip!

wednesday did not flinch.

but she nearly did.

an arrow lodged into the tree trunk, directly above her head.

“i can literally feel your stare, wednesday. you’re making me nervous.” you teased. her eyes grew dark at you.

“try that again and you won’t have fingers to shoot an arrow with.”

you couldn’t help but smile at her empty threat. you knew wednesday more than either of you thought. you knew that she wouldn’t take your fingers, they would stay with you.

you drew your bow again, pointing an arrow straight at her jokingly.

“try me, addams!”

the statement made wednesday’s head shoot backwards, her eyes clouding over.

“try me addams!” you yelled at her. you were younger. your cheeks were fuller, you hadn’t quite grown into your face yet.

but there you were, back then, the object of wednesday addams’ affection. but she could never admit that then.

you were on your back, pinned against the ground with wednesday on top of you. she remembers this fondly, she was trying to steal back her hairties that you had stolen as a joke.

you were laughing. it was the most joyous she’d ever seen you. she didn’t know how she was getting that reaction from you.

she was reaching as you held the ties above your head, swinging your arm around to make sure she didn’t get it. she was growing frustrated.

she groaned and drove two of her fists down into your chest, robbing your body of air. you coughed as a response and caved in, handing her the hairties.

“okay addams!” you choked out, sitting up to be closer to the girl. you laughed softly, coming face to face with her. “i just wanted to play a prank on you.”

“pranks are a waste of your time. you have better things to do.” she said, standing up. “you’re going to be late for practice.” she looked down at you. you remained seated.

“they’re not a waste of my time if it means i get to spend time with you.” you said, honestly. sure, you were mildly flirting but you were geniune. wednesday didn’t know how to process the admitted desire for companionship. she returned the sentiment, but it wouldn’t come out of her.

“i’ll come to your practice then.” wednesday said, putting the hairties in her bag. “i’ll sit there and wait for you.” she held her hand out for you to take so she could help you up.

you grinned up at her from where you were.

that grin, she would have killed for it.

“deal!” you jumped up excitedly, a proud smile on your face. you took her hand to stabilise yourself.

and it was then she got her first vision of you.

you were older now. definitely older.

you were still in the forest, holding wednesday’s hand just like how you were in the real world.

your bow was in your left hand, like you had just come from battle. blood was dripping down from your ears.

you had blood staining your shirt. and it looked bad. something most people wouldn’t be able to recover from.

and it flickered between the image of your eyes crickling from how huge your smile was and the sight of you donning crimson in front of wednesday.

“wednesday!” you cried out to her, catching her in your arms.

and then she was back to reality.

“wednesday!”

a vision of a future in a vision of the past? that was new for her. her powers might have been trying to tell her something— something more urgent.

she remembers leaving you alone at practice that day, taking back her deal to you. she had to sit alone and process.

three days later, she broke your heart.

“you still get those often?” you asked, sitting her down against the tree trunk.

“of course i do.” she snapped, her conscience pounding from the double vision she just had.

“sorry, stupid question.” you said, regretfully. you sat in front of her, still holding her back to steady her. “do you want to talk about it?”

she hated how you cared.

“no.” she shook her head. “it was just… nothing. nothing important.”

“you and i both know your visions have saved countless lives, wednesday.” the way you said her name had her head reeling. “is there something we should be worrying about?”

“no… no.” she waved you off, pushing you away. you sat there nonetheless.

“okay well… are you feeling okay?” you worriedly questioned her.

“i would feel better if you stopped asking questions.”

you recoiled, knowing it was best not to provoke her like this. her heart twisted at your concern, they made her feel almost guilty for pushing you so far away.

she had broken you down slowly, she knew that now. you poured your heart into your affectionate manner, it was something that scared her.

you sat in silence, taking in your surroundings and letting her recover from the vision. you were around when she first started getting them, you knew how badly they affected her.

she almost wanted to apologise, tell you that she was sorry for snapping. but she couldn’t let you get close again.

“we should go soon, lunch is in 30 minutes.” you spoke up first, breaking the peace. she simply nodded at you, helping herself up. you followed suit, yanking the arrow you had previously stabbed into the tree out and putting it back into your quiver.

➶ ➶ ➶

you sat across from wednesday. she recalled a time you would fight for the seat beside her, but instead, you filled the space next to yoko.

“you’re already thinking about the rave’n?” you asked enid, munching away at your food in between sentences.

“of course i am!” enid jumped up. “it’s our last year here! we need to think about these things!” she turned to you and grabbed your hands.

“and it’ll be your first & last rave’n back! we have to make it good!” she squeezed your hands. you rolled your eyes but couldn’t hold back a smile.

“okay well, you’ll help me shop then.” you held your pinky up, which the blonde gladly took in her own.

“good! and you, wednesday?” enid turned to the shorter girl, tilting her head.

“my rave’n experiences haven’t exactly been pleasant, enid.” wednesday brushed her off. “maybe this is the year i skip out.”

“you shouldn’t. i would like you there if it’s my first one back and last one i’ll ever have.” you said, forgetting that such desires were usually turned down by wednesday.

but that was somehow enough to convince her.

“fine.” she grumbled, a contrast to the smile that was now stuck to your face.

“never thought that would be so easy. you must be the sentimental type, addams.” yoko commented. the mental image in wednesday’s head was her brutally bashing the vampire for saying that.

“do you know the theme?” you asked enid. the werewolf was finally asked to head the planning of the rave’n, she was perfect for the job.

“yup! since it’s halloween— we’re doing guts & gore!”

you swear you saw wednesday nearly crack a smile, this was right up her alley.

“and glitter!” enid added in, you were unsure if she was joking.

the joy on wednesday’s face faded slowly, you softly laughed at the change of expression.

“don’t worry, addams. i’m sure you’ll look fine bedazzled.” you joked, snickering. yoko laughed beside you.

she glowered at you, your smile persisted. did she no longer have an affect on you in these situations?

you really had grown.

“i would rather choke and die before covering myself in sparkles.” she took an angry bite of her food.

“don’t worry, wends, i’ll forgive you this once.” enid giggled. “gore is still your element, i’m sure it will be reminiscent of your first rave’n.“

“i heard about that.” you chimed in. “pig’s blood, right? maybe you can work with real blood this time, nobody seems to know the difference. and you’d probably enjoy that better.” you had said that almost too casually, it bothered her.

she was like an old book you hadn’t picked up yet still knew the insides and outs of.

“yes. maybe i will.” she answered briefly. you returned to your meal, finishing up and picking your bookbag up.

“gotta go, i have some botany homework to catch up on.” you said, turning to wednesday quickly. “did you want to join me for archery club later?” you asked.

she paused for a second, debating her answer.

“no, i can’t. i have homework i need to do in my room.” christ! why did she say that? she meant to say yes!

perhaps it was her defense mechanism, she wanted to keep you at arm’s length after what happened in the forest today. she needed some time to process.

“no worries. i’ll see you guys later!” you jogged off and waved as you left.

“is it weird hanging around her again?” yoko asked, she realised she hadn’t talked to wednesday about your return much.

“i suppose.” wednesday nodded. she had grown closer to yoko overtime, finding herself being honest towards her. “she’s changed a lot.”

“i mean, yeah. her entire environment changed in a whim. that makes you grow up.” yoko agreed. “you two seem to be getting along just fine.”

“indeed. but we can never go back to how we used to be.” wednesday tried to put up a front. “i’m sure she wouldn’t want that either.”

“given how you tore her heart in half last time you saw her? i wouldn’t put it past her.” yoko sighed, “but you can’t hold it against her forever.”

“i can and i will.” wednesday scoffed. yoko squinted at her.

“are you hiding something?” the vampire asked. yoko had an excellent talent for reading people, it infuriated the addams girl.

“no.” wednesday responded firmly, standing up abruptly and gathering her things. “i have to go. i’ll talk to you both later.”

enid and yoko shot each other worried looks.

wednesday stomped off to her room, a scowl evident on her face.

she hated this. all of it.

she hated that her visions were getting stronger, they were so loud that they were making her entire body hurt.

she hated that she would once again become responsible for saving someone, she was always thrust into the world of the weird. was it such a crime that she wanted some normalcy?

she hated you. she hated that she was forced to reject you in order to prevent your impending doom.

she hated you. she hated you for returning and making her feel things again.

she hated you. she hated that she was terrified of your death.

she hated you. she hated you. she hated you.

but she had to save you.

➶ ➶ ➶

author’s journal

okay i’m soooo sorry this took ages! and that this is relatively short! but i was in the middle of quitting my job and planning my christmas trip to see my family!

i’ll let y’all in on the reader’s powers more in the upcoming chapters but she is definitely a psychic!

i also am sooo excited for halloween!!! i’m going as wednesday this year and i also bought from the doc martens x wednesday collaboration so i’m so so keen on getting it in.

i hope you guys enjoyed this chapter & hopefully chapter 3 will be out before you all know it!

kisses xx