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platimoonie · 7 months ago

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a surprise.

In which, you decide to surprise Fubuki to help him relieve his tension (and yours too)

Pairings; Fubuki Shirou x Reader (inazuma eleven)

Content warning; NSFW, established relationship, use of pet names, no use of y/n, AFAB reader, lingerie, smut smut smut, lmk if I missed something.

Before you read; hi guys!!! ♡ this is my first ever smut and writing something like this so pls be gentle on me </3 feedback is appreciated. ALSO FUBUKI BRAINROT RAHHHH. (El I'm looking at you)

Lately, you've noticed Fubuki has been far too busy. Far too busy for your liking. It's football season, and he has been out of the house for longer periods of time. And when he would come home, you would have dinner, and after kissing you sweetly, he'd pass out beside you on the bed within minutes. Then he'd wake up at 5am the next day, quietly so he wouldn't disturb you, and leave the house after kissing your forehead. This has been going on for the past 4 weeks, and you're getting a little bit too needy.. in more ways than one.

You've tried, and you've really tried a lot to not bother him. It's an important month, with back to back matches for the team he coaches, and you're not blind to the rigorous training required for football. But your patience is running thin. It's not your fault though. Your fingers can hardly satisfy you anymore, not after you know what it means to have sex with Shirou who leaves you a crying, writhing mess and makes you see stars.

♡

And so you make a plan— to surprise him. You know it has been rough for him too.He's often frustrated, wanting his team to be the best one in the prefecture, and it's getting to his head— keeping him tensed most of the time. So you, being the good girlfriend you are, know exactly what to do.

Shirou has a one day-break from any kind of matches or training coming up around the corner. And as the day slowly started approaching, you received the lingerie you had ordered just in time. You opened the package with a slight giggle, your mind already beginning to imagine your beloved's reaction when you surprise him.

♡

"Good morning, handsome." You smile as you wake up Shirou, showering him with at least a hundred kisses all over his face, jaw, and neck. You're happy he's in bed with you till later today, and you're finally getting to wake up with him beside you. A raspy chuckle leaves him, which makes butterflies swarm in your stomach. He closes his eyes and happily accepts the love he is currently being endowed with. "Mmm good morning love." He says as he brushes a strand of stray hair away from your eyes, looking at you with the most adoring eyes that make your cheeks feel warm.

The morning rolls smoothly, and you shower Shirou with all the love that you possibly can, trying to make up for the past few weeks, and your love for him is bursting through the roof. Shirou, on the other hand, is beaming. His droopy eyes seem to be twinkling, his face glowing softly and his heart brimming with warmth and gratitude for you. He's basking in your affection.

During the evening, Shirou leaves for a 20-minute jog and this is the perfect opportunity for you to execute your plan.

"Sweetheart, I'm home." Shirou calls out as he closes the door behind him. He removes his shoes and furrowed his eyebrows a bit when he doesn't receive a response. He felt refreshed, and now, all he wanted to do now was cuddle with you and maybe go out for dinner if you were up for it..

"In here!" You squeaked from your bedroom nervously a few moments later, suddenly feeling all shy with the extremely teasing set you were wearing when you heard Shirou's footsteps in the hall.

Shirou steps in the room, which is illuminated only by soft candlelight. He stops in his steps when his gaze lands on you, and he stands still, dead still. His hands are frozen by his sides, his heartbeat begining to race dangerously, and his eyes widen.

You're slightly nervous because of the lack of reaction, and you put your hands behind your back, your chest heaving softly, "Wanted to surprise you, Shirou, you've been too stressed lately.." You say with a teasing smile as you bite your lip, hoping he's impressed.

He gulps heavily as his eyes trail over your figure. You were clad in the prettiest thing he had ever seen. It was a two piece, lavender in colour, adorned with small net flowers on the sides. Also, it was sheer, leaving nothing to the imagination, and gosh did you look like an angel sent directly from the heavens to bless his eyes. Your tits were perky and standing stiff against the thin material of the clothe, your ass barely covered by the frilly skirt like piece attached to the lacy thong, and Shirou couldn't stop his eyes from hungrily ravaging the sight in front of him.

"Is this.. for me..?" Shirou breathes out, in a dangerously low tone, finally finding his voice as he slowly walks towards you. His head dips into the curve of your neck as he takes in a shuddering breath, filling his senses with your presence, his hands coming to grip your sides in an extremely possessive manner.

"Mmhm. Do you like it?" You whisper in his ear, and his grip tightens on your hips. "Like it? I'm holding myself back from devouring you this instant and taking you right against the wall. So yes, I do like it. God, i love it angel." He says lowly, which makes your stomach clench as you gulp. You catch his lips in a fierce and intense kiss, hooking your arms around his neck, and Shirou's hands travel all over your body, feeling your soft skin and caressing everywhere he can as he kisses you passionately. He slightly buckled his hips forward towards your crotch, and you could feel him even through the layers of his clothing. He's already hard, painfully so, and the action seemed to cause both of you to let out a sigh.

"Please, you can do whatever you wanna. I need you so bad Shirou." You say in a pleading tone, as your hands weave through his soft locks, a string of saliva connecting your lips as you break the kiss for a moment to look into his eyes, which are half-lidded, and heavy with desire. "Aww is my baby needy for me?" He says in a breathy tone, resting his forehead against yours. You nod eagerly, abandoing all shame. It has been far too long since youve had him inside you. "Yes god yes please" You whine out, unable to contain yourself anymore. "I want you on the bed sweetheart. Right now." Shirou whispers in your ear and watches you as you quickly go and lie down on the bed obediently, looking at him with glossy eyes. "Such a good girl for me." He mutters under his breath.

Shirou takes off his shirt, and you shamelessly indulge in his form. His abs are rock hard as a result of his athletic career, his shoulders broad, and his chest is well defined. Despite countless times seeing him like this, the sight never failed to make your heart and your pussy throb. Within seconds his pants and boxers are discarded by the bed.

You squeel lightly when he's suddenly on top of you, almost pouncing on you. His lips attack your collar bones as he kisses, and sucks on your sensitive skin hungrily. He's propped up on top you with one of his forearms resting on the bed beside your head and his other hand comes up to your chest. He plays with the lacey fabric that cover your tits and then pulls it down, his lips are immediately on one of your nipples, licking and sucking greedily, while his free hand plays with the other one, slighly rolling your pebbled end between his nimble fingers. Soft gasps leave your parted lips as your hands tug on his hair. "Aha Shirou fuuuck yes... oh my godddd missed you, missed this soo much" You babble, already beginning to feel like putty in his hands. His hard cock is brushing against your lower body and you feel a pool forming between your legs. "Shirou please can't wait any longer" you whimper, voice slightly high.

"So needy today." He chuckles at your whiny form. You pout, lips shiny with saliva " 's not my fault you've been so busy lately" "I'm so sorry, didn't know my baby was missing my cock so much, yeah?"

You gasp when his dick rubs against your clit as he says that. "No—no I missed you too, your presence, everything I swearrr" you say breathlessly, wanting to desperately prove him you're not just cock-hungry, when in fact,— you where.

Quickly, Shirou pulls off your frilly panties, and slips inside your folds, your wetness making it easy for him. You both groan at the feeling together. You pant and struggle for a moment as Shirou enters deeper into you. You don't think you'll ever get used to his girth and long length as your walls clamp down onto him.

"Fuckk baby..." Shirou throws his head back, beginning to move shallowly as he brings his hand under your thighs and presses them towards your chest. "'M gonna make sure I stuff you all nice— and full— today *thrust* yeah" He groans as he starts snapping his hips wildly. He drags his cock all the way out and pushes it back in aggressively, making you mewl and cry out loud, nails digging into his shoulder. "Don't want my angel feeling empty *thrust*" He continues, as he picks up a faster pace.

The sound of skin smacking against skin fills the room, along with your moans and cries as you repeatedly call out his name. "Shirou— fuck— oh god, don't stop Shirou" A bit of spit drools out from the side of your mouth, as your eyes roll back in pleasure. "Gonna come inside you angel, you'd like that yeah?" Shirou says as he pants, his pace never once slowing down, as he pistons his hips into you.

"Mhm yes! Please! please come inside me." You cry out. "I'm close Shirou, gonna—gonna cum!" "Fuck, cum angel. Come for me, cmon." Shirou groans. "Shirou, Shirou, Shirouuu!" It's so lewd, the way you cry out his name like a mantra, voice finally dying in your throat as you orgasm, and everything goes white for a moment.

Your body feels like it's on fire, a tear pooling at the end of your eye from the pleasure and you wail loudly, as your pussy spasms. Shirou fucks you through your orgasm chasing his own, making you mewl from the movement and he finally feels himself release inside you as he groans loudly. Thick white ropes of cum shoot out into you, making you feel extremely hot, and you both are panting.

You look at Shirou, his lavender hair is sticking to his forehead due to sweating, and his eyes are half lidded. He slowly pulls out with a plop, and you moan lightly, already missing his length. Shirou falls down beside you, his hand draping across your chest, and you turn slightly on your side to face him. He smiles at you, an adoring and love sick smile and you can't help but giggle, still feeling high from the pleasure. "Well that was definitely stress releiving" He says with a chuckle and you grin. You kiss him, and he kisses you back and its so so soft.

What's not soft though, is his cock, which is once again beginning to harden at the sight of your flushed state. You feel him pressed against you, as you glance down. "Again?" You whisper cheekily ."Again." He nods with a suggestive smile.

#inazuma eleven #fubuki shirou #Shawn frost #smut #fubuki x reader #fubuki shirou x reader #fubuki smut #fubuki shirou smut #inazuma 11 #inazuma eleven x reader #inazuma eleven smut #ina11 #inazuma eleven go #inazuma eleven go x reader

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kyojuroloveme · 7 months ago

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Hello, could you write a Shirou headcanon in which, due to Michiru's fault, Shirou kisses the reader by accident? (please try to make this less embarrassing for others as possible 😅)

Lol sure 😂

°~Shirou Ogami~°

•It started when you, Shirou, and Michiru were hanging out, you and Shirou were already dating

•Michiru asked one of y'all if she could have a napkin since y'all got food, you both tried to give her a napkin but accidentally gave each other a small kiss

•Y'all looked at each other for a second while Michiru fangirled

•You all brushed it off and continued eating

•Of course Michiru teased both of you

#x reader #x tall!reader #shirou ogami x reader #ogami shirou #shirou ogami #bna brand new animal #bna x reader

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iho6hi2 · 4 months ago

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Shattered Ones.

Type: Oneshot

Pairing: Fubuki Shirou/GN! Reader

Summary: You fear that you can never be Fubuki's anchor and day by day, you see him sink further into misery. You follow his example.

Warnings: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Canonical Character Death, Childhood Trauma, Survivor Guilt, Grief/Mourning, Established Relationship, Unresolved Tension, Codependency, Unrequited Love, One-Sided Relationship

Word Count: 3,342

A/N: FUBUKI SHIROU THE MAN THAT YOU ARE YYYOU WILL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS. Will forever think about how much trauma Fubuki has gone through and how most of it has gone unaddressed...

Fubuki's eyes are fixed on the picture, unblinking and half-lidded. They have been so for a little over an hour.

His hand grips the photograph. It's not hard enough to cause any creases or damages, but his hold still borders on possessive.

Much like him, you're transfixed. You keep on staring, as if hypnotized by the sight laid out in front of you. However, your attention is not on the photo at all — you don't even give it a single glance. What catches your attention are the dark, heavy bags under Fubuki's eyes; a clear symptom of his restlessness. They're not recent and they have gradually been getting worse.

You're able to relate. Your eyes are also bloodshot and dazed, though they're able to remain focused by pure power of will, distantly observing the direct cause of your own lack of sleep.

He doesn't bother saying anything out loud, nor does he even register your presence lingering behind in the slightest. Fubuki merely gazes at the image, lips continuing to maintain the shape of a frown, which looks natural on his features. He'd spent a good portion of his life looking sullen, after all. Although you can't really tell if his eyes are sad or if he's simply drowning in nostalgia by his lonesome.

You consider approaching him and embracing him, but Fubuki is someone who always looks out of touch with reality whenever physical contact is initiated. He's not sure what to do whenever you hug him out of the blue, though he always manages to play it off as only being caught unprepared.

He would freeze up and blink down at you in shock, lips parted in mute astonishment, before his beautiful, gentle smile takes its typical place on his face. Then he would wrap his arms around you and, even though his muscles tend to tense up whenever you're in close proximity with one another, he would force them to relax midway throughout the hug.

You can see beyond his façade. You always have. Fubuki is not so much an open book as much as he is a torn page from one.

A fleeting scrap of paper with words scribbled on both the front and back. So transparent and yet so opaque at the same time. You struggle to assimilate him despite reading him with such ease.

Either that or you've simply disillusioned yourself into believing you're capable of deciphering him despite it probably not being the case. You don't want to find out the truth in favor of preserving your feelings, which have grown increasingly fragile over the course of your relationship with Fubuki.

You stop leaning against the doorway to your shared bedroom and slowly begin to make your way towards his seat on the bed, doing your best not to step on a loose floorboard and alert him. You loom over his shoulder, studying his furrowed brows and the subtle clench of his jaw first, then redirecting your attention to the picture itself.

Your eyes narrow in suspense before softening in belated realization.

The photograph managed to capture a moment in time where Fubuki appeared to be truly happy for once. His features are young, juvenile. His eyes, which are nothing like today, are round and innocent. They display none of the anguish he holds nowadays and if you didn't know any better, you'd think that he's still capable of smiling so freely and happily.

He never will be. Fate has made it so that he can never find it in his heart to be as carefree as the kid he once used to be.

Your eyes scan the other side of the picture. Fubuki's arms are draped over his little brother's shoulders.

It's Atsuya. You know Atsuya, but you don't really know Fubuki Atsuya. Fubuki Shirou will never know who Fubuki Atsuya could have grown up to be, either.

He only remembers Atsuya as the cocky, overexcited and easily irritable brat. He remembers him as his little brother, who loved to brag and would constantly puff his chest out whenever he scored a goal. His little brother, who tended to surpass him in most aspects. The little brother he lost to an avalanche.

The little brother he grows to miss more and more with every sunrise and every sunset.

Startling you, Fubuki snorts bitterly. "You know what's the worst part about all of this, [Name]?" He doesn't bother looking over his shoulder in order to hold eye contact and you're also in no way surprised he sensed you breathing down his neck, though you were hoping he would be distracted enough not to even notice.

You make no effort to reply; it's not like you could formulate a sensible response regardless. Besides, something tells you Fubuki wasn't expecting an answer and he probably wouldn't appreciate receiving one, either.

At this point, you realize Fubuki isn't necessarily talking to you and more so to himself. You're just an outlet for his frustrations, here to bear witness to his torment and be the shoulder he leans on when everything comes crashing down in flames.

No matter how many times Fubuki opens up his heart to you, it doesn't take away from his pain. Somehow, if that was even possible, it becomes stronger and more prominent with each and every passing day. You know it just as well as he does, but disregarding the fact and choosing to pretend that you're none the wiser doesn't hurt any less.

He continues speaking, clutching the photo in his hand tighter. "I'll be turning twenty-six this year, but he'll always stay only five."

Fubuki Shirou has had acne, he's had to shave. He had went on dates and he had also won countless of matches, not to mention the FFI Cup as well. He's had to constantly conquer his spine-chilling, gruesome fears and treat his own injuries no matter how badly they hurt.

Fubuki Shirou has needed to mature way earlier than any of his peers and he had already developed into an adult, but Atsuya will never know what having a beard was like. He'll never understand how to solve for x. He'll never have his first kiss and he'll never have the pleasure of seeing the ocean or of travelling abroad.

You had never met Fubuki Atsuya. The only one you know is the Atsuya, which can never come close to capturing the real one's essence; he's just a capsule of blurry, distorted, distant memories, which stray from reality.

He doesn't appear in front of you often, but the few times he does, it's always a strange and a memorable experience.

Atsuya only materializes when Fubuki goes through immense amounts of stress, which is a rarity in and of itself with all things considered. Such instances were the time he got replaced as a coach by a member of the Fifth Sector and another was the night before he had to travel to a remote island to rescue kids being tortured by the said organization.

In all of these occurrences, Atsuya shows up abruptly. You never receive a warning and the only telltale signs are his eyes and the intense scowl on his face. Unlike your boyfriend, Shirou, Atsuya's eyes regard you with upfront indifference. You're used to Shirou's sugarcoated acts of reassurance, which do wonders to help distract you from the ugly truth. The truth you consciously attempt to suppress.

Atsuya is nothing like Shirou. He's sardonic, honest, always speaks his mind and never tolerates anything whenever he feels like he's being sligted by someone. Shirou is completely different in that regard; he just keeps on enduring and enduring until he physically can't handle it anymore. Old habits die hard and in some cases, they never die at all.

"Shirou, it's okay if you're—," you begin hesitantly, with your eyes darting anywhere around the room but his face in fear of seeing a flicker of upset directed at you, however he cuts you off before you can finish what you've started.

"It's not okay and you know it, [Name]. It's never going to be okay. Not now and not ever. Please, drop it." Fubuki states and his words carry a tragic tone of finality. He puts an end to whatever uncomfortable conversation you were about to have and leaves in his wake a silence that's just as unbearable and suffocating.

Fubuki didn't raise his voice, but he might as well have just yelled at you right now. Like always, you pipe down with guilt eating away at your insides like a pack of vicious hyenas and simply slump on the bed, keeping noticeable distance between the two of you. The very notion is virgin and celibate, but you don't pay it any mind.

The awkward, tense silence persists for several more mintues before you decide to break it. "Sorry. I always do more bad than good," you sigh and shift to lay on your side, because that way your view of Fubuki is entirely obscured. Whatever emotion contorts his features next, you won't be able to know and this fact brings you immense amounts of relief.

In order for your sanity to remain fully intact, you need to keep yourself blind and ignorant. That's the only way for you to keep holding on.

"No, you have nothing to be sorry for. It's not your fault and I shouldn't take it out on you. Atsuya's dead, he has been for a long time and I've accepted that, but every year I'm reminded that he'll never get to grow up like I did. It's like he's stuck in time." Fubuki sniffles without shedding any tears. He's long since lost the ability to cry and all he can do now is scrunch up his nose, staring absently at the ceiling.

You perk up at his words and slowly sit up, cautiously crawling towards him like he's a ticking time bomb you might accidentally set off. You reach him, inch by inch, before hugging his waist and placing your chin on his lap. You're yet to stare into his eyes and, instead, settle for gazing at the messed up pillows to your left.

He makes no move to reciprocate the gesture and you take no offense to it. Even if he were to squeeze your hand or pull you closer, it would be insincere.

You love when Fubuki lays himself bare for you, so you don't need to speculate each and every minute detail in hopes of uncovering hidden meanings. He's fully clothed, but naked to the human eye at the same time.

All you can currently see is the real Fubuki Shirou. The good, the bad and the ugly; you're unable to discern a difference between them. He's always the same to you — ethereal and delicate like porcelain. He's the same man that ensnared you in his trap, whether he's aware of it or not.

You're a mouse captured, moments before your inevitable doom.

"I wish I could've died instead of him, sometimes." Fubuki muses with a half-smile and you tighten your hold on him, miffed.

"Well, I don't think that's what he would've wanted. Have you ever thought about the fact that he would want you to live on for the both of you?" You argue and, for the first time in a while, you force yourself to look at him. There's veins bulging out of your neck as you strain yourself to shout at him.

Fubuki blinks and his amusement is soon replaced with a pensive, thoughtful frown. He stares at the picture again, then redirects his attention to you. He dabs at his eyes, wiping away any tears threatening to spill. Afterwards, he opens the drawer next to his side of the bed and places the old photograph there, face down, before shutting it closed.

He lies back down, but this time he shows you his back rather than his face and then proceeds to pull the covers over his shoulders. "[Name], I don't say it a lot, but I really am sorry."

Your mind jumps to the worst-case scenario and your throat instantly closes up, an uncomfortable lump resting on your epiglottis. There's a pit in your stomach — an allegory for dread.

You struggle to find the words to properly express yourself, though you settle for a simple, "Sorry? What for?" You don't want to hear him say it out loud. A part of you hopes he backtracks like he always does, though something is different this time and not in a good way.

Don't say it. You plead to no avail. You know exactly what kind of storm is heading your way. You've known since the moment you first met him, but you chose to face it head-on. This is what resilience gets you: perpetual despair.

Fubuki, as if reading your mind and choosing to spite you once and for all, places the final nail in the coffin gently, with feather-like meticulousness. His last venture to destroy you, to utterly devastate and crush you, is delivered with a voice akin to that of a lullaby. "I'm sorry for everything."

The lights are off and then it's just static silence between the two of you, under the guise of sleeping or at least trying to.

There's a blizzard outside. The snow and rain pelts hard against the window in your shared bedroom and you can practically hear Fubuki's breath hitching in his throat. You sense him trembling slightly. He seeks no comfort and you don't attempt to give him any; two strangers stuck hostage on a cold bed, claiming they're in love.

Before you realize it, you're crying. The tears drip down and stain your cheeks, but you don't bother wiping them away. You let them flow freely because you fear that you'll be far too numb to bawl like this ever again in the near future. And if Fubuki hears you crying like a baby, he ignores it in favor of suppressing his guilt.

You seek no comfort, especially not his, and he doesn't attempt to give you any. Everything comes full circle when it regards the two of you.

Fubuki's sorry he can't love you the way you love him: devotedly, ardently, unconditionally. Try as he might, he can't bring himself to love anyone. Not anymore.

However, he's selfish and wants to have you remain by his side. He hates being alone — to the point it becomes unbearable. He doesn't think you'll forgive him and he simply can't forgive himself and his actions, either. Perhaps, if you were to despise him from the bottom of your heart, that'd be for the best.

It's better for things to remain this way. The Atsuya in his head agrees, too.

★

"Good morning, [Name]," Fubuki greets you cheerfully the moment you step foot into the kitchen. You're blinded by his smile, the one he uses to sweep truths and details under the rug when he divulges too much against his will.

You play along and return the gesture. It's your forte. You and Fubuki are constantly entangled in an intricate dance, treading on thin ice between lies and sincerity, between hiding and revealing.

How easy it is for the both of you to act like nothing ever happened yesterday is nothing short of disturbing, yet befitting.

You hug him and wrap your arms around his torso, his own reaching out to cradle your face in his cold fingers. His eyes are kind, but there's no sentimental depth when he gazes at you from up-close. You're his polar opposite.

You kiss him and though he's quick to react, you can still see the way his eyes visibly widen in shock before you forcibly close your own so as not to perceive any negative reactions he subtly expresses.

Fubuki's sad because he's consciously leading you on, purposefully, and this kiss is a manifesto of his greed and opportunism. The remorse brewing within him is repressed and kept at bay, determined to do everything in his power to keep you around for as long as possible.

You deepen the kiss and push him against the countertop. His back slams against the cups behind him and one of them falls down, breaking into pieces.

You separate from him, by reflex and definitely not by choice, and cringe. "Sorry. Didn't mean to act like a horndog." The embarrassment creeps in before you can stop it and you merely watch as Fubuki crouches down and begins to pick up each of the shards.

"You always worry too much about everything. I wonder if it's a chronical condition," Fubuki makes an astute observation and you're tempted to roll your eyes because you can hear the snark behind it, though you hold back.

You watch as he carefully holds the pieces and carries them over to the trashcan, blinking with a small smile.

You look down at the floor and notice he missed one. Whether it was done on purpose or not, you can't really tell. With Fubuki, it's always hard to distinguish. You pick it up, holding it between your fingers, and stare right back at your reflection. The likeness of you is distorted, off putting and jarring.

"It's kind of familiar." You begin with a clipped tone. Fubuki stares at you before squatting down in an attempt to figure out what you mean.

It's not like you to be vague, Fubuki thinks. He doesn't like it when you beat around the bush, nor does he appreciate having to guess where your trail of thought leads to. He likes you best when you speak your mind, brash and reckless as it may be. It's familiar, nostalgic, and it makes him homesick.

He follows your gaze and fixes his attention onto the stray piece. He can already see the small cut opening up on your skin after the glass accidentally grazed it. He just smiles; it's not his mess to clean. "What is?"

It reminds me of us, you want to say out loud, but your lips are sealed shut.

The blood from your wound smears against the piece. It doesn't even hurt.

When something is broken, you can always glue it back together. When it's people that are shattered, no amount of glue can be of use.

You didn't know it at the time, yet you tried to play hero with the naïve ambition of binding Fubuki back to reality and away from the tumultuous waters threatening to swallow him whole. Now, you're afflicted with the same cracks you first saw in Fubuki. You never knew self-destruction could be a contagious disease.

"Never mind. I was about to say something lame." You shake your head and proceed to wince from the sting, pretending it hurts. You turn to look at him, raising your hand up to him with pleading eyes. "Kiss my boo-boo to make it feel better?"

"I'll pass," Fubuki declines within a heartbeat, rocking to and fro on his heels. You huff at his flower boy persona.

★

That night, Fubuki wraps his arms around you and brings you close to him, his chin perching itself on top of your head. You, in turn to his sporadic display of affection, snuggle even further into his chest, desperately listening to the sound of his heart, which is surprisingly peaceful in comparison to other nights that fly by just like this.

He holds you tight and despite the soothing heat of his body and the slow, content breaths he lets out, you've never felt colder or more alone.

There's a storm brewing, but it's not outside. It's always been an invisible force between the two of you and only you can see how it will end. You pray that the end is not near, but each and every day you can sense it being your last.

★

The following morning, you see Fubuki holding that same picture of him and his brother.

It feels like heartbreak. You're left to helplessly watch him perish with the knowledge that there's nothing you can do for him.

You're just collateral damage.

#SORRY...#I know its pretty uncommon for ie x reader fanfics to be posted on the tumblr community #so im sorry for the jumpscare everyone #You can ignore this #this is more like a character study tho #fubuki shirou x reader #fubuki shirou #inazuma eleven #inazuma eleven x reader

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siriuslysatorusimping · 3 months ago

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Shichigosan (a Physical Paradox extra)

I wanted to write something for shichigosan (aka seven-five-three, celebrated on or around November 15) since Eiji would be 5 this year and the twins would be 3!! I hope you guys like it and would love to know what you think!!

Just something a lil short and sweet for our Physical Paradox Goinko and fam!!

Kiko's Masterlist | Buy me a coffee ☕️ | AO3

2024

Rinko’s heart melted at the sight of Eiji when he stepped into the room, fully dressed and ready for the festival.

“Don’t you look handsome?” she cooed, unable to keep the grin from her face when he puffed his chest out proudly.

As if she needed more reasons to adore her son. The hakama paired with the patterned haori fit him perfectly. It made him look like a little man instead of her little boy. She couldn’t believe they were already celebrating his shichigosan. Her sweet boy was growing up way too fast.

All of their kids were.

She half-expected Maki or Mai to inform her that they were engaged any day now. She just hoped that they didn’t tell her at the same time.

“You look really pretty, momma,” Eiji stated matter-of-factly, stepping closer and tugging on her kimono. “So do you, Yumi.”

Yumika giggled, reaching for him once Rinko had secured the hifu around her.

“Nii-chan look hantom,” she replied, her hands clutching his haori.

“He does,” Rinko agreed, chuckling as she straightened, adjusting her obi as she did so. “Where’re your daddy and Shirou?”

“Shirou didn’t like his hakama,” Eiji muttered, fiddling with the green cords fastening his haori. “He said it felt funny, so Daddy’s talking to him about it.”

It didn’t surprise her. Shirou didn’t like being uncomfortable, and traditional clothes were practically the definition of uncomfortable.

Nodding, she released a quiet sigh before motioning for them to move.

“Go downstairs with Yumi, then,” she said, smoothing her kimono. “I’ll go check on the others.”

Eiji nodded dutifully, grasping Yumika’s hand tightly and guiding her out of the room.

“Can we watch cartoons while we wait?” he asked, and Rinko smiled.

“Yes, sweetheart.”

She heard him asking Yumika what she wanted to watch as they descended the stairs, and she pursed her lips as she approached the twins’ room, hearing Satoru’s quiet voice, the frustration just beginning to bleed into his tone.

“–don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to–”

“I wanna match!”

“Then you gotta put ‘em on, buddy,” Satoru replied, sighing. “I know they’re uncomfortable, but–”

“Itchy!” Shirou exclaimed, and Satoru released a heavier sigh than before. “Don’ wanna!”

“Then how about you and I match, yeah?” Satoru reasoned. “What if you and me wear–”

“Wanna match Nii-chan!”

Satoru stayed silent, and Rinko furrowed her brow as she assumed he tried not to let the exclamation hurt his feelings. But it probably did, anyway.

“Darling,” she called gently, stepping inside and trying to suppress her chuckles at the sight she was met with.

The situation felt so much sillier when she saw Shirou sitting half-naked on the floor, his arms crossed and features scrunched on his little face. Satoru, still clad in his sweats and t-shirt, knelt in front of him, pinching the bridge of his nose. Seeing his frustration sobered her instantly, and she moved to his side.

“Wanna match Nii-chan,” Shirou pouted, jutting his bottom lip out. “But don’t wan’ tose.” He pointed a tiny finger to the hakama neatly folded on his bed, a scowl causing his brow to furrow. “Itchy!”

A dilemma, to say the least.

They’d let Eiji choose his own attire, and he’d picked the traditional clothes without hesitation when he realized that he’d get to wear the same haori that Satoru had worn to his shichigosan. But Shirou’s clothes were new, so he had little motivation to wear them beyond wanting to be like Eiji. Which was clearly the issue at hand since he didn’t want to wear them while wanting to wear them.

Satoru ran his hand through his hair, his brow twitching as he clearly tried to remain calm.

“He’s been saying this since Eiji finished getting dressed,” he explained, his jaw ticking slightly. “We’d decided he wouldn’t wear the hakama and haori because they weren’t comfortable until he saw Eiji, so now we’ve been going back and forth because he wants to match.”

His eyes stared straight forward, jaw clenching and unclenching. Shirou remained thankfully oblivious to how upset his father really was, too busy glaring daggers at the itchy clothing on his bed.

“Darling,” Rinko began quietly, placing a hand on Satoru’s bicep to get his attention. He turned his head to stare at her, the hard lines of his face relaxing slightly when she just smiled. “Why don’t you go get dressed while I help Shirou? And then you can go see how pretty your baby girl looks in her very first kimono.”

Relief flooded his face as she spoke, and she lifted her hand to run it through his hair, watching his eyes slide closed when her nails scraped his scalp.

“Okay,” he agreed, nodding reluctantly before pushing himself to his feet. His gaze shifted quickly, taking in her appearance and pausing when he saw her obi. “New sash?”

She’d seen it when she took Yumika shopping for her kimono and couldn’t resist when she realized it would match her own, and Satoru’s, perfectly.

“Maybe,” she replied slyly, smirking at his narrowed eyes. “Thought it’d be a nice touch. You like it?”

He stared for a moment longer before releasing a heavy sigh and leaning over to kiss the top of her head.

“‘ll give you a nice touch,” he muttered, his tone drawing a smug grin to her face. “You look beautiful. I’ll see you downstairs.”

Rinko watched him ruffle Shirou’s hair quickly before retreating from the room, his footsteps echoing quietly as he trudged back to their bedroom to get dressed.

“Sweet boy,” she murmured, pulling Shirou into her arms and snuggling him close. “I’m sorry your hakama is itchy. If you don’t want to–”

“Wan’ match–”

“I know you do,” she soothed, carefully repositioning so her kimono didn’t crease while she rocked them back and forth. “But I want you to have fun today, and you can’t do that if you’re all itchy.”

“But– but Nii-chan,” he whined, clenching his little fists and pounding his lap. “And Yumi.”

Humming quietly, she rested her chin on the top of his head as she debated their options. She knew he wanted to match the others, and it wasn’t exactly ideal for him to be the only one not dressed like the rest of them, but there had to be a compromise of some kind. Eiji and Yumika were already dressed. Not to mention that they’d both chosen their clothes. Technically, this shichigosan was for Eiji and Yumika, so she wouldn’t ask them to change now, anyway.

“What if you only wore them for the pictures, then?” she offered. “You can match for the pictures, and then–”

“No!” he cried, tears forming in his eyes now. “Wan’ match–” he cut off as he hiccupped, and Rinko rubbed his back slowly.

“I know, sweetheart,” she murmured.

That complicated things further, but she wasn’t surprised. He didn’t care about pictures. He cared about being like Eiji and Yumika for the festival. It didn’t help that he clearly wanted to wear the hakama, and he just seemed upset that it was itchy.

She scratched his back, humming absently as her eyes drifted to the hakama. He didn’t want to be itchy–

“What if you could wear something comfy and match Eiji and Yumi?” she asked, picking the hakama up and then looking down to see Shirou wiping his eyes. “What if we make it so the itchy can’t get you?”

“No itchy?”

They’d gotten his clothes just a bit too big just in case he hit a last-minute growth spurt before the festival, but he hadn’t. So maybe he could wear something underneath them.

“Mhmm,” she agreed. “Do you wanna wear your favorite pants under them?”

His favorite joggers were starting to thin, anyway, and he was also beginning to outgrow them, but getting him to quit wearing them was a meltdown to deal with another day. He still loved them and didn’t want to quit wearing them, but that also meant he might be more willing to deal with the extra fabric. Plus, it was supposed to be a bit windy, so this could also be a way to ensure he stayed warm.

“Pans?”

She hummed in agreement again, grinning as he blinked rapidly, his excitement growing at the thought of wearing his favorite joggers.

“It’ll be like a little secret,” she whispered, leaning closer. “You can wear them under the hakama so you still match Eiji and Yumi, but the itchy can’t get to you. How’s that sound?”

He scrambled out of her lap, digging through his laundry hamper until he found his prize. There was a small stain on them, but the hakama would cover it anyway.

Chuckling, Rinko caught him when he tripped as he tried to yank them on as fast as possible. Tugging the hakama up over the joggers, she pressed her lips together to keep from giggling when the stiff fabric bunched up in some places. It didn’t matter to her if he looked a bit silly as long as he didn’t mind.

“Better?” she asked, grinning along with him when he just offered her a toothy grin. She held the haori up next, helping him slip his arms through and then fastening the green haori himo. “You look so handsome, too.”

“Like Nii-chan?” he asked, his brows pulled together. “Hanshom like Nii-chan?”

“Just like Eiji,” she agreed, kissing both of his cheeks and then lifting him into her arms as she stood. “Let’s go show the others, hm?”

“Leave it to you,” Satoru whispered in Rinko’s ear as they watched Eiji grasp each of the twins’ hands while they stood in line to get their chitose ame, “to think of something like that for Shirou.”

“It works, doesn’t it?” she replied defensively, quickly snapping a picture of their kids holding hands. “He’s comfortable, and he matches. I know you’ve been dying to say something about the little bulge from his joggers.”

They’d done their best to make sure it was hidden in the family picture, but she’d noticed Satoru barely containing himself every time he caught sight of it again. At least she knew that side of him hadn’t changed a bit.

His grin now said everything she needed to know. But she would take it over the dejected look he’d tried so hard to hide when Shirou had aggressively rejected the idea of only matching him.

“I wasn’t gonna point it out, but he is my son, so I shouldn’t be surprised that he’s–”

She cut him off with an elbow to his gut, rolling her eyes as he snickered wildly. A few other parents shot them disapproving looks, which prompted Satoru to smother his laughter with his hand.

“You’re the worst,” she deadpanned, fighting the smile as he pulled her closer to his side so he could wrap his arm around her waist. “Just awful–”

“You love me,” Satoru replied simply, pushing his shades up his nose. “But what I was saying a minute ago was that you’re so good with him. I dunno what I’d have done if you hadn’t come in when you did.” He paused to grimace. “Probably would’ve ended up just forcing him to wear the clothes because I didn’t know what else to do. I was just getting so frustrated–”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” she countered quietly, nudging his shoulder with her own. “You were doing fine.”

“No,” Satoru grumbled, “I wasn’t. And I should’ve made sure the hakama would work before I bought it, anyway–”

“He picked it out because it matched Eiji’s,” she reminded. “You couldn’t have known it’d be uncomfortable.”

“I just didn’t know what to do–”

“It worked out,” she cut him off. “You were stressed because you wanted to have him dressed before you got ready, and he hurt your feelings, too.”

“He didn’t–”

“Darling,” Rinko chided, nudging him again. “It’s okay to admit it.”

“I know he didn’t mean he didn’t wanna match with me,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes. “S’not a big deal.”

She just hummed, leaning up to peck his cheek.

“I’ll let you tell yourself that for now,” she relented. “I know we’ve joked about Eiji being like you, but I think Shirou might just be your exact copy.” Pausing, her lips pulled up into a smirk. “S’what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object, yeah?”

Her chest fluttered when he snorted, rolling his eyes.

“Which am I?”

“Neither,” she replied instantly, giggling when his grasp on her waist tightened so he could dig his fingers into her sides. Gasping quietly, she tried to stifle her snickers when she noticed other parents once again sending them nasty looks. “We’re in public, darling–”

“Then quit bein’ a brat in public,” he growled under his breath in reply, loosening his grasp. “You’re still such a tease. And your new sash is beautiful.”

“If you’re lucky, you’ll get to see what else is new later,” she murmured, grinning when he stiffened and sucked in a quick breath through his nose. “Come on. Looks like the kids got their candy.”

AN: Thanks for reading!!

I was researching Japanese holidays a while ago and came across shichigosan, or seven-five-three, (November 15), and thought it would be perfect to write something for Physical Paradox since Eiji and the twins are 5 and 3 this year. I know I’m a tiny bit late, but it sorta works because the festivals are usually held on weekends, anyway!

Fun notes that I didn’t make explicitly clear:

The kids’ haori himo (braided cords) matched their eye color. So Eiji and Shirou’s were green, and Yumika’s were blue.

I’ve been asked before about their kids being neurodivergent, and I just felt it made so much sense to have a lil piece of how they’d deal with something related to that. Shirou’s preference was inspired by a problem I had when I was little with how clothes fit and felt. If they felt itchy or scratchy or made me feel out of place, I would lose my mind, and it would be worse if I was still forced to wear them. So, Shirou’s thing with not wanting to wear the itchy clothes but not wanting to be left out or the only one not wearing the matching clothes not only felt realistic to me but fit something a toddler might struggle with even if they weren’t neurodivergent. Rinko’s solution is likely very unrealistic given Japanese culture, but I feel it fits her as a character because she is aware of these little brain nuances on top of the fact that sometimes, as a parent, you just have to roll with the punches as best you can even if it’s not what you wanted.

Also, I tried to keep the way Yumika and Shirou speak as accurate as possible without going too far down a rabbit hole researching toddler speech patterns otherwise, I would never have finished this.

I’m probably forgetting something, but I wanted to get this done before the weekend is over.

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thequietkid-moonie · 10 months ago

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Yandere Brand new animal characters (of your choosing) who are in love with a human reader who is at the peak human threshold of what a human can do

Who is also often times hired by Anti-beastmen organizations to hunt and take down beastmen for money.

(I’ll also leave it up for you to decide if you want to make them hate beastmen or not too as well)

Stronge and smart darling works for a anti-beastmen organization to help

[ YANDERE HEADCANONS ] [ Shirou Ogami ]

[ Brand New Animal ]

⚠️ Yandere, I don't support nor try to romanticize this toxic behaivor, is just for entretaiment

Now that i finally decided to write this request (that has being on my ask box for so long, sorry about that) i decided to watch Brand New Animal again, so thank you 🤭

Also, im SO sorry I swear but between the writers block and the depresive state I just managed to write one character

sorrysorrysorry 🙇🏻🙇🏻🙇🏻 sorrysorrysorry

Ogami despises all human kind, he hates them with all his being for what they have done to the beastmen, and just like that he absolutely hate any beastmen that dares to work with the humans to go against the other beastmen, thats why since the first moment even just Ogami persived your human scent on some of the most recent beastmen that came to Anima City to search for shelter he can feel his blood boild on his veins

Despite being angry and don't have mercy when it comes to human kind he lets the beastmen take the time to explain themselfs (only if they weren't doing anything suspicious or being a obvious threaten), and the story is always the same a really stronge human that either offer them their help or end up chaising them when trying to reach Anima City, a human that despite openly being part of an organization anti-beastmen and despite chaising them the human end up guiding them in the safest way towards the the frontier to Anima City

No matter how much times he heard the same story Ogami just can't believe it and he refuse to do so, he is just too anger with the human kind that the idea of a human willing to help beastmen in any way is nothing but a joke, specially someone that works for a anti-beastmen organization

Is probably that he even end up even asking the mayor about it once he gets tired of hearing the same story over and over again and still feeling confused about this whole situation, there are chances that the mayor actually knows about you and what you have being doing to help because she has to know what happened around the beastmen to be able to protect them and Anima City, but even when the mayor confirm that you actually want to help he just feels more frustrated and even mad at you for it

Ogami is completely blinded by his frustration and anger to even understand what it is going on his mind, he have hated human kind for all his life that now that there is the smallest posibility of a human actually helping and looking after the beastmen is so unreal and yet the more he heard the story the more hope builds inside of him, what he hates and that is actually making him feel frustrated and angry, as well the fact that the more he can persive your scent the more used to it he become and even start to crave it just make him hate the whole situation even more

It can take a lot of time before Ogami reaches his limit where he can just handle it anymore and set off on his journey to now be him the one chaising you, now constantly wandering around the frontier with the human city, taking advantage of his sharp habilities to be able to quickly track your steps

It doesn't really take much time before he finally gets to met you and even when he was planing on get answer out of you (even when his mind is so clouded that he can't think right) the moment he finally met you is like if all the thoughts that have being troubling his mind just clear and let his true feelings come out, he probably just end up fighting against you but is in that fight that he end up realicing that what he wanted the most is to meet to, to demostrate himself that you are actually real

When he finally realices that all those stories are true and that you are actually fighting to help the beastmen, using you amazing strength and habilities to help his kind he gets even more confused, but this time because now his mind is more clear now and he can identify that strange feeling growing inside of him, that feeling that makes him want to persive more of your scent, to want to see you again and even have you close, he doesn't understand why it is he feeling that way (specially towards a human) but at this point he can't just ignore those feelings anymore, the problem comes whit that he doesn't understand what to do now

#brand new animal #brand new animal x reader #bna x reader #shirou ogami #shirou ogami x reader #ogami x reader #yandere ogami x reader #x reader #x gn reader #anime x reader

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the-wild-tomato · 9 months ago

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Guys... ignore that I have been gone for like ... a while... BUT guess who decided to rewatch Inazuma Eleven and rediscovered her childhood crushes 🤡

Yeah... so I am PLEADING on my hands and knees, begging for requests or even people just yapping to me about this show bcuz it's dire out here in the trenches. I need content specifically about this cutie here ( I have been gnawing at the walls)

So please 🙏 😫 yap to me and request stuff

Illustration done by me btw

#inazuma eleven #inazuma eleven x reader #kidou yuuto #endou mamoru #inazuma eleven go #kiyama hiroto #inazuma eleven orion #fubuki shirou

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sleepingdeath-light · 2 years ago

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shirou smut hcs ; 18+

requested by ; 🐜 anon (14/06/23) [2/2]

fandom(s) ; brand new animal

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; shirou ogami

outline ; “🐜 anon because i love BNA and 100% wasnt the person to recommend it whaaaat.... .

Shirou Ogami relationship and smut hcs?

also i accidentally typed shitou Ogami for a second there 😭”

warning(s) ; sexually explicit content, dom!shirou, dumbification, rough play

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

shirou strikes me as someone who is a switch but defaults to dominance because he’s reluctant to relinquish control and be vulnerable in front of another person

he alternates between soft and harsh dominance depending on his mood/needs and the boundaries you’ve discussed beforehand

insists on a safe word either way, though, as he doesn’t want to cause you any actual harm — even if your relationship is casual

if you’re not big on rougher play then he’ll be softer — leaning into kinks and play that doesn’t involve pain or degradation

things like size difference, voice kink, mild praise and some teasing — enough to leave you squirming and whimpering and needy but nothing too extreme

stuff like emphasising how much stronger and larger he is — both in general (even shifting to further demonstrate it) and in regards to his dick, which is substantially larger than average

growling more in his speech and lowering his tone as he whispers into your ear from behind, carefully watching your reactions whilst he reaches between your legs to play with you — alternating between praising you for how obedient you are and teasing you for being so aroused already

but if you’re more on the kinky side, then he’ll be open to discussing and involving some of his more ‘extreme’ preferences

things like biting/marking, semi public play, all sorts of pain play, overstimulation and edging

marking usually only happens in areas that can be covered — such as your stomach, chest and thighs (or your throat/collarbone if you have clothes that can cover them)

they’re more like reminders to you about how good you’ve got it rather than a direct claim of ownership (unless you’re actually together)

pain play usually circles back to types of spanking and accidental cutting (he can get carried away sometimes and has some rather sharp claws)

he doesn’t use any toy (be that paddle or whip), preferring his hands and is equally happy to spank your ass, your thighs or (if you have one) your pussy

semi public play translates to him dragging you (or letting you drag him) into the nearest alleyway/closet/cupboard/etc. for a quickie when you’re both particularly needy

it’s also usually paired with some sort of gagging (read: his hand or a piece of cloth over your mouth) to make sure you don’t get caught

overstimulation is a result of his need to push you as far as you can go, to show off how capable of a lover he can be by leaving you dumb and drooling and sobbing — also linked to a slight kink for dumbification and crying

edging is rare and used as a sort of punishment — edging and teasing you until you admit to your wrongdoing and swear you’ll never repeat it

this can be anything from flirting with someone else to masturbating after promising to save your pleasure for him

also uses light breath play if you express an attraction to the power dynamic between the two of you — either momentarily squeezing your throat before moving on or grabbing your throat from behind to pull you against his chest

probably isn’t the biggest fan of pet play but might incorporate some elements if you’ve been good — such as using a leash and collar to choke and lead you, calling you a ‘pet’ during dirty talk and other such things

prefers sex and handjobs over oral, but won’t turn down oral if asked or offered — and he’s amazing when he goes down on you (long tongue, talented fingers and a desire to please all lend themselves to a good time for you)

as far as positions go: big fan of concubine and doggy style, but he can also appreciate the mating press and cowgirl/reverse cowgirl if he’s in the right mood

under the right circumstances he can enjoy different types of desk sex including:

receiving oral from you beneath his desk when he’s in a meeting (he has an amazing poker face)

you riding his thigh or his cock when you’re really needy — usually combined with one his hands groping your ass whilst he sorts through paperwork with the other

him bending you over his desk and fucking you dumb — only ever used as stress relief when he’s been too busy to tend to you

if he’s getting especially rough and exerting a lot of energy then there is a chance that he’ll shift in the middle of sex — which has happened on multiple occasions without him initially realising

this has led to you getting deep scratches along your back, chest and thighs — as well as tooth indentations on your throat and genitals when he’s changed during oral

he’s always apologetic afterwards because he never means to harm or startle, but it’s usually more hilarious than shocking

isn’t loud in bed but he does make a lot of noises during sex: growls, grunts, low moans and cusses — as well as occasional bouts of dirty talk or instructions of course

#sleepingdeath #🐜 anon #gender neutral reader #minors dni #minors fuck off #smut #smut hcs #bna smut #bna x reader #brand new animal smut #brand new animal x reader #shirou ogami x reader #shirou ogami smut

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cup1d-ends-here · 3 months ago

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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.

#fanfic #imagine #fanfiction #smut #x reader #archer #archer emiya #fate #fate stay night #fate stay ubw #shirou emiya #rin tohsaka #archer x reader

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