A bouquet is delivered to Archer’s door with a note attached. “So… funny story… I forgot about Valentine’s Day and forgot to get presents for all of my partners. Sorry these are so late. Would love to see you again soon, Archie. ❤ -Your Song”

@rpsongbird

He looked over the bouquet and smiled. Smelling it as he read the note. She may have felt bad about forgetting the holiday but it had completely slipped his mind! Now he felt guilty.

Send in a word for a drabble of our muses based on it.

Opia: The ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable.

@rpsongbird

These days it was rare they did anything together. She was so busy and he didn’t know how to catch her. There were few times she’d spontaneously appear, catch him off guard and off his feet just like she always managed to do.

He was down on his back, shirt unbuttoned and tie thrown over his shoulder. She was straddling his lap, her blouse bursting at the seams as she ran her hands up and down his chest. 

His throat felt tight as he let his head drop to the floor, staring into her face. Who was this woman now? She was so different than the Song he knew, that he remembered, maybe the Song he thinks he remembered never existed and she was always this... person.

She raised those sparkling eyes and caught his glance, never letting go. Clawed nails scratching up his skin and wrapped that tie around her fingers, Coiling it tight and tugging it close to her chest.

Her gaze was piercing, hypnotizing and Archer felt paralyzed. Unable to move or look away. She could see the doubt in his thoughts, in his memories, he was sure of it. He didn’t want her to know. To see his doubts, but he couldn’t say it. He couldn’t speak it.

“Archer...” She breathed, dropping her lips against his. “It’s just me.” A quick kiss and she pulled back, rolling her other hand through her hair.

It was like gazing at another woman. Her eyes were soft again and he could see her unease. Acting on instincts, thinking that doing this- what she thought he wanted, she got what she wanted. Comfort. She was shaking.

rpsongbird:

archerwhiterp:

rpsongbird:

[txt] give me, say… 10 minutes to get ready? I wanna look nice for you. ;*

She needed to get ready, he should get ready to. But with what? Now he was flustered, bouncing back and forth through the trailer and trying on a multitude of dress shirts and suits in the small 10 minute window he had. His shoes were barely tied when he fell through her portal. “Song?”

“Bedroom!” she called from the room nearby. She was sitting up on her knees in bed, wearing white lingerie under an unbuttoned baby blue dress shirt and waiting eagerly for him.

He pressed a hand against the wall and felt his way into the room. His cheeks were already bright red and his clothes felt sticky hot.

The place looked like it could use a little TLC what with the thin layer of dust coating everything. Then again, much of the decor was straight out of the 20s. There was even a small stage where a very surprised little golden robot was looking up from her magazine. She was suspended a few feet off the floor on an aerial hoop.

@rpsongbird