#every so often he comes back for food and to make some kind of machine for the bade and then he disappeads again

[sumirerin]

Doodle of how me and the bfs dst playthrough has been going :b

[woncon]

hi i read your stories and you're awesome!! can i please request a san and wooyoung scenario where they're making coffee for you in the morning?

Hi dear Anon! 🥰

Thank you for the kind words & the request. I'd a fun time writing it. I hope you'll like it too! 💗💗

➳ a cup of care

➶ poly!woosan x gn!reader ｡˚ °

-ˏ` ✎﹏ San forgot to take the coffee machine to the mechanic. But instead of admitting it, he wants to become a home barista, making coffee for you every morning until he can actually take the machine to the repairman.

When Wooyoung finds out what he's up to, he won't tell you. He decides to help to keep San's secret and make nice coffee so you won't tell the difference.

Keeping it from you may seem easy.

It's not.

➴ genre: fluff, light angst, estabilished relationship, polyamory

: ̗̀➛ warnings: half-naked san, who is also a baby

⌨ :: 2.3K words ♡ ︵ . .

⁀➷ kisses and hugs for @honeytwo!!

➳ ateez masterlist | main masterlist

At 5:30 on a Monday morning, Wooyoung strode out into the kitchen. He was looking for San to drag him back to bed. You both slept easier and deeper when the boy was there. You clung to him eagerly, and he usually couldn't even slip away without you being alarmed that he was gently shaking you off him.

Wooyoung expected San to come for a glass of water. That was not the case. The broad-shouldered boy in his pyjamas leaned against the kitchen counter and watched a video in contemplation. At his fingertips were a colander, a bag of what looked like cat food, mugs and the kitchen scale.

Wooyoung curiously ventured closer. The parquet floor creaked under his socked feet.

San turned around like the hyperventilating protagonist of a horror film.

“Hi!” He paused the video so quickly that his phone fell on its face.

“Hi…” Wooyoung took a closer look at the prepared equipment. He picked up the filter and poked the bag. There was something hard inside. “What are you doing? Is this some kind of workout stuff? Or poison?”

“Poison?” San laughed awkwardly and shook his head as if he'd been caught.

“Are you... okay?”

“Of course. I just, uh, wanted to surprise you. Could you go back to bed and keep it a surprise?” San patted Wooyoung's waist. “I promise I'll be ready quickly.”

Wooyoung took pity on him. It was like San to wake up at sunrise to surprise the two people he loved the most. He didn't want to bother him any longer. He pressed a consenting kiss to San's cheek and would have turned back to try to fall back asleep in your embrance, but noticed the pattern at the bottom of the bag.

It was minimalist and almost blended into the caramel colour of the bag, but it was there nonetheless. Three coffee beans. It wasn't cat food, then.

Wooyoung blinked. He walked around San then held the bag in front of his face, and the heavy scent emanating from it immediately hit him in the nose. He pointed incredulously at San, whose neck was flushed.

“You forgot!” he said in disbelief.

“I have not!”

The other walked over to the coffee machine, plugged it in and tried to turn it on. It did the same thing it had been doing for the last few days: all the buttons flickered red and the machine whined, as if it would die at any moment and couldn't make the slightest coffee.

“Oh, but you forgot.” Wooyoung patted the poor steam and turned off the power. “Y/n specifically asked you to do that, remember? They even made your breakfast so you'd write down in your diary the appointment they'd booked with the plumber. And you forgot.”

San pouted in surrender. “Why are you mocking me now?”

“I'm just having a little fun.” Wooyoung grinned. “I'm usually the bad boyfriend here.”

“You're not a bad boyfriend.”

“But I forget more often than you, pearl of men.” Wooyoung looked through the assorted tools again. “So?”

“So what?”

“How can I help you?”

“You want to help?” San was surprised. “I thought you were going to tell our baby.”

“‘Course not. I don't want them to be sad. I'll help make sure they get their coffee and don't notice the difference until the machine is fixed.”

“See, Woo?” San's all brightened up. He stroked Wooyoung's face. “You're not a bad boyfriend.”

“Still, I'll help you cover up your forgetfulness.”

“Because you're my great boyfriend.” San pulled him close and showered him with kisses.

Wooyoung carefully pushed him away. It wouldn't have ended well if the coffee project hadn't progressed, because they were kissing and slowly forgetting about everything but each other.

“So where do we start?”

San set up his phone, tilted it at the microwave again, and they both dug into the information presented to them on how to make quality, home-brewed coffee.

****

Only five days. That's how long they had to wait before San could actually take the coffee machine to the mechanic. The earliest the man could meet San was Saturday afternoon. In the meantime, the two boys not only had to make homemade coffee by grinding and filtering, but also to make the coffee taste very similar to the one the machine made. Wooyoung took on the role of the pre-taster.

You liked the coffee on Monday. Although you noted that the program seemed to be quieter this time, you didn't find the taste strange. San laughed and wiped a spot of coffee off the edge of your mouth.

"I think you just slept too deeply. In the kitchen it was as loud and lively as ever. The mechanic did a good job."

As you took your next sip, he glanced warily at Woooyung.

The next day, Wooyoung played coffee machine sounds from his phone while San ground coffee beans. You drank again, this time making no comment on the missing mechanical sounds.

On the third day, Wednesday, you resented that neither of them were with you anymore. You got up early and called them.

“Shit! They're coming!” San tried to cover up his intimate parts like a caught-in-act lover: the filter, the cups, and of course the bag of coffee beans he hid in various places around the apartment as if they were a dangerous piece of his tainted past - even though he had no tainted past.

“Go, distract them!” Wooyoung took up the grind that day. He didn't want to stop, especially since his skin had soaked up the smell of coffee beans that his sense of smell was completely dulled. Of course, you would have smelled it. 

Wooyoung didn't want questions about why he smelled thick and heavy like fresh coffee beans.

"Okay," San nodded. “Okay.”

Then he took off his pyjama top. Wooyoung's eyes widened. He didn't mean it that way, he would have added, but San and his refreshing body were gone.

“Do you want to take a shower with me?” his question filtered out from the living room. “I'd be happy to wash your back.”

Of course, you couldn't say no to that.

San had handled the emergency well enough, Wooyoung admitted. He had meanwhile finished his fresh coffee peacefully and even toyed with the idea of opening a coffee shop for a moment. He served it with a wide smile, and bathed contentedly in the showery scent of your neck and the melody of your appreciative humming, as if you knew he made it for you, not the coffee machine.

Everything went smoothly on Thursday, they even finished faster than before. They were really practiced and coordinated. They had time to lie back down next to you and gently caress you into wakefulness.

Wooyoung enjoyed the week, and even if the thought of failing at some point occurred to him, he dismissed the idea. They were a good team, and so far they'd done a great job, making delicious coffees and putting big smiles on your face with their hot brews. If you'd mentioned the coffee smell, he'd have bought a coffee shower gel to explain it. He and San ran through many scenarios to prepare for possible danger. Two more days was not the end of the world.

Although, you seemed to want to bring the world to an end. You also wanted to have a cup of coffee on Friday afternoon.

“Since the coffee machine got fixed, the coffee tastes better. And I'm busy, I need to recharge,” you said.

Your boyfriends couldn't let you touch the machine. The minute you turn it on, they're busted, even though they've been so good at hiding San's screw-up. They had another quick look.

“How about we go to that coffee shop you always daydreams about?” Wooyoung suggested.

“Really?” You froze, a faint frown of thought appearing on your face. “But it's an expensive place.”

"We want to make you happy," San nodded. “It's worth every penny.”

And of course they would have gone to great lengths to make sure you didn't even look at the coffee machine for a few more days.

“Well, okay," you smiled in agreement.

Friday's panic situation had been well averted. Wooyoung now really thought they were on the straight and narrow, only one brewed coffee away from success. 

Well, Wooyoung hadn't factored San's Saturday morning breakdown into his immediate future.

As usual, they divided the duties. San ground the coffee beans, and Wooyoung set the Bluetooth speaker at just the right angle to make sure you could hear the coffee machine sounds playing and soothe you half asleep.

“Woo…”

Wooyoung looked up. It was rare to see San like that. He was a strong mountain, straight and taut. But now he was hunched over the counter, looking powerless. His eyes radiated uncertainty.

“I think I am the bad boyfriend.”

“What?” Wooyoung tried to process the information as quickly as possible. “You? You're literally boyfriend material. If you were single, everyone would be fighting for you. Even though you're ours, Y/n and I have to be careful not to let them take you away from us.” Wooyoung stroked the back of San’s hand. “You're not a bad friend, Sanie. You're absolutely not.”

“I've been lying to Y/n for almost a week.”

“Because you don't want them to drink powdered coffee. You take care of them. You ordered quality coffee from some classy guy.” Wooyoung took over the grinder from him. “And you can tell them the truth in the afternoon, if you want. I don't think they'll be angry, they'll probably just laugh at us.”

San still pouted ruefully, but he no longer hunched forward so tragically.

“Go and cuddle them. I'll finish this.”

“Can you?”

“Of course I can.” Wooyoung pulled the bag of coffee beans in front of him and smiled encouragingly at the other. “You know, thanks to you, I became a coffee master.”

Before Wooyoung could concentrate on making your morning coffee, San pulled him close and planted a long, sloppy kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you.”

“It is the least I can do. Now go. And don't let our baby out of bed!”

****

“Careful, careful," Wooyoung murmured as he handed you the mug. “It's hot. Very hot. Like your skin... hmm… let me lie back a bit.”

Wooyoung stretched out beside you, satisfied, once the coffee was safely in the palm of your hand. He rested his head against your waist and was about to look for a blanket that would hopefully preserve some body heat, but instead he got San himself as a blanket. He didn't complain.

“Gosh, the kitchen stone is so cold,” he whimpered.

“Well,” one of your hands went into his hair and gently massaged his scalp. “Next time, put on another layer of socks. Or don't go out. I can make my own coffee.”

“I wanted to be nice to you so you wouldn't leave me for this sexy guy behind me.”

While you giggled, San hugged Wooyoung even tighter, and the boy was reminded of how strong San is. And how much he loves it when he has time to spend the morning with the two of you.

“Oh, that can't happen. What would we do without you?” You stroked his cheek and San hummed in agreement.

What's for sure, at this point Wooyoung didn't feel like a bad boyfriend. In fact, he was proud that he could be here, that you both loved him.

“And thanks for the whipped cream, too, Woo.”

“You're welcome. I made it with love. I would have also put cinnamon on it, but I couldn't find any.”

"You must not have seen it from the bag of coffee beans," you said.

San's body tensed around Wooyoung. Wooyoung himself twitched.

“What?”

“The coffee bean bag. The one you hid as if it were a drug. A few days ago, it just covered up the cinnamon.”

San let Wooyoung go and sat up. He just blinked and waited for you to say something else. You didn't. You drank your coffee peacefully, your face smeared with whipped cream without a spoon to use.

“Don't look at me like that. I wasn't complaining about not liking it. In fact, you made it delicious.”

“You knew?” San was stunned. “Why didn't you tell us?”

“Because the coffee is delicious,” you drank some more. “And you've been very enthusiastic all week. I think you guys had fun too. Or am I wrong?”

“When did you find out?” Wooyoung asked, pulling his knees to his chest.

You frowned thoughtfully.

“I think it was Wednesday. Sannie got a call from the 'coffee guy'. I thought it was about the mechanic, so I picked it up while Sannie was getting dressed. The guy asked if I was happy with the merchandise and if I wanted to order another package. When I asked if he was talking about capsules, he hung up. I may or may not offended him.”

San crawled closer to you on the mattress. He took your face in the palm of his hand and kissed the whipped cream off. “I’m sorry.”

“I'm not mad. After all, you showed me that my boyfriends could make better coffee than my machine.” You pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose. "However, I don't want you to spend every day sculpting in the kitchen to make me happy. I'd rather have you here with me and the coffee machine do my coffee.”

“That's what we want.” Wooyoung nodded, then leaned his head on your shoulder. He was very happy that you were not angry with them. Though he expected nothing less from your kind, loving heart. “And the coffee machine could be working tomorrow... If San didn't forget again.”

“Hey! This can't happen, I swear! I've been dreaming about this for two days. Even if I had amnesia, I couldn't forget it.”

“I believe you, big boy. I hope you haven't forgotten either that you promised me marathon hugs today.”

“Finish your coffee and you won't get away.” San nodded towards you, then looked at Wooyoung. He winked and smiled mischievously. “None of you will get away.”

For the record, Wooyung didn't intend to. It's well known that sometimes even the lovestruck coffee maker needs a break.

[yyokkki]

Dire Crowley

The mayor of NRV! 

He’s always giving you quests to complete while you’re at NRV claiming he’s too busy to get it done himself but his daily schedule consists of just walking around town doing daily ‘check ups’ on the businesses.

Dubs you a beast master after you gain three hearts with more than two villagers. He says nobody is able to acclimate themselves with the townsfolk so quickly!

He may or may not have been scared off by the scarecrows in your farm once or twice.

Is a total suck up to Governor Ambrose the 63rd but shit talks him behind his back. He plans to overthrow him one day but it’s not looking bright…

Absolutely hates the city and the new Royal Sword Mart that opened in town.

You basically get tasks weekly from him. Don’t worry the rewards are generous as he is a very gracious man~

Loved Gifts: Any Gems, Glass Shards, Gold, Meat, Universal Loves

“How generous of you, farmer! It seems my graciousness has rubbed off on you~”

Hated Gifts: Royal Sword Cola, Any Spicy Foods, Hot Pepper, Universal Hates

“Boohoo! Despite all my generosity and graciousness! How could you give me something so vile!!"

Divus Crewel

The local scientist! I’m not going into his specific field but he does a lot of experiments on the geography and ecosystems of the valley.

He also seems well versed in Chemistry as he regularly supervises Trey and Rook as they do their experiments too. (He’s afraid the pups are gonna injure themselves)

He owns a cool classic car that doesn’t work anymore after years of not travelling out of NRV. He grieves about it a lot.(The junimos fix it and he chaperones you over to the desert!)

His hobby is fashion design and he has a room in his house fully decked out with sewing machines, mannequins and the like.

He keeps a very good dalmatian named Spot at home. He is the most spoiled boy in town.

Occasionally visits the library to play chess with Trein but it usually ends with some kind of argument…

He’s the one who offers to set up a fruit bat/mushroom cave for you! (He may or may not have inspired Jade)

Loved Gifts: Raisin Butter, Wine, Cloth, Dye Materials, Universal Loves

“Good pup! This is a great gift.”

For Cloth and Dye Materials: “Might as well make you something with this… Especially considering your current attire.”

Hated Gifts: Universal Hates

“Bad pup! What is the meaning of this?!”

Mozus Trein

The librarian and teacher!

He holds classes for the kids twice a week but when he’s not a teacher he looks over the library with his cat, Lucius, whom the kids (and Idia) absolutely adore!

He’s quite strict with the manners and knowledge of the young people in town so it’s always a shock to see him so patient and gentle with the kids.

He has grown daughters who are currently working in the city! He regularly pens letters to them and sends over care packages. They come to visit him often too!

He finds it absolutely unacceptable how barren the library in town is and finds lost books more important than artifacts, though he thinks they’re a valuable educational tool as well.

Loved Gifts: Duck Feather, Vichyssoise, Tuna, Leek, Universal Loves

“This is a good gift, farmer. Thank you.”

For Duck Feather and Tuna: “Lucius will enjoy this, I thank you on his behalf.”

Hated Gifts: Universal Hates

“Ugh. How distasteful.”

Ashton Vargas

The town blacksmith!

Honestly? Might’ve become a blacksmith so he could work his arms out… He’s off every Thursday for leg day!

He encourages everyone in town to work out more! Certain townsfolk avoid him because of this.

Approves of you since farming requires a lot of physical labour! Actually offers to help you out with heavy lifting too.

He lives off of the forests too, he hunts and grows his own harvests! 

He has a few chickens too for sustainable egg supply.

Probably one of the nicest villagers if you ignore his gloating!

Loved Gifts: All Eggs, Beer, Universal Loves

“Thanks! Why don’t you drop by later for some weight training? I’ll tell you all of my tips!”

Hated Gifts: Universal Hates

“I hate this stuff!”

Sam

Owner of the general store!

Not much is known about him but he has lots of friends on the other side! (They’re the travelling cart merchants cooperating with him to sell out of season products)

He sells absolutely everything! Except for other shops products since he doesn’t wanna stir up the competition!

The general store has another branch in the city too!

Loved Gifts: Chicken Gumbo, Void Essence, Universal Loves

“Daw, thanks little imp! Now, don’t go thinkin’ this’ll get you a discount~”

Hated Gifts: Solar Essence (His friends hate this stuff), Universal Hates

“Hate to break it to ya, but I have a million of these in the back… You can keep it!”

Grim

The sewer rat? Basically the Krobus of this universe because it was between him and your farm companion! I mean c’mon you can even have him move in with you after you become good friends! He’s the true route fr.

Wants to live on the surface but that bird brained mayor won’t let him! So now he sells random stuff he found in the sewers to you…

He does sneak out pretty often though, it’s how you found him pretty early on.

The poor boy, get him some tuna. It blows his mind the first time he tries it. (He’s been living off of radioactive fish, he’s fine though)

Actually starts living with you even if you’re pursuing a bachelor as soon as he hits ten hearts.

He constantly complains about your other furry companion though…

It’s probably harder to give him a gift he hates since he’ll eat about everything. (Yes he eats all your gifts)

He wants to overthrow Crowley and become the mayor of town! He never succeeds. (He thinks mayor is the highest position in the whole world because it’s all he knows)

Loved Gifts: Tuna, Stone, Any Gem, Universal Loves

“Funa! You’re the best henchuman!!  I was feeling a little hungry!”

Hated Gifts: Universal Hates (Except clay maybe? Feels like he’d eat that too…)

“EW! This is worse than that time you called me a raccoon!”

---

TWST x SDV Masterlist

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[jujutsutrash]

NSFW (minors leave). cw: face fucking, gagging, throatpie/cum swallowing, piv, creampie, unprotected sex

Thinking of loser boyfriend Yuta. Poor guy can barely get by in social interactions, has a hard time speaking to people he doesn't know, shakes whenever he is in the spotlight for anything. He is smart, and kind but is very much the type that needs you to order for him at a fast food. He stutters for anything, forgets his words whenever people make eye contact, stumbles on his own feet often and looks like he is about to cry whenever he is perceived for anything. He really needs you to help him get through the day, terrified eyes looking around like a prey animal, he clings to your arm like a panicked child.

Your friends sometimes wonder why the hell you are with that guy, and you always say he is the sweetest soul. And he is, but what none of them imagine is that your loser boyfriend is also a fuck machine. Sure, he may not be a smooth dom, but he more than makes up for it with a massive sex drive and even more massive cock. Maybe, the reason he stumbles on his own feet so much is because he has a third leg on the way. If Yuta wasn't so awkward he'd probably be the most cocksure fuckboy around. Good thing he is awkward as hell.

Though, maybe it's because of all the awkwardness that he is always so desperate to fuck, always so desperate to get some release from his daily life. Yuta almost skull fucks you on a daily basis, hips thrusting uncontrollably while his large hands hold your head, thumbs brushing your cheeks while he bobs you up and down his shaft. He makes you gag on his thick erection, head touching the back of your throat all the while he continually apologizes, voice trembling profusely. It goes on like this until he cums, spit and precum spilling down your face as he slams himself into your mouth. When his orgasm hits, Yuta pulls you flush to his hips, nose buried in his skin as he pumps his big thick load straight down your throat - still apologizing all the while.

It's rare that Yuta is satisfied cumming just once though. He can go for a couple rounds, leaving you satisfied and, more of the not, utterly exhausted. He likes fucking your pussy a little too much, whispering his praises and gratitudes as he hammers into your cunt mercilessly. It's rough, it's animalistic and it's violent, his thick length stretching your walls thin as he slams into you like a fleshlight. The 'I love you's spilling from his mouth being almost drowned by the sounds of your wet pussy being ravaged by his massive cock, his hands roaming and groping all over your body. Yuta fucks you in every which way he can think of, always looking to go deeper, to hit your sweet spot and feel you even tighter around his cock. When he cums it's deep inside your pussy, and he still rides you until the white, sticky liquid comes pouring out of your abused hole.

So maybe it is fitting that whenever you go outside, Yuta looks like a terrified creature, ready to jump at any minute. Cause, after all, he does fuck like an animal who's desperate to breed and who doesn't know if he will be alive the next day to to that once more.

[17020]

ᥫ᭡ CAMPUS CRUSH GALORE! NO PRNDL?

# CRUSH 003 — YOICHI ISAGI, 20. KINESIOLOGY MAJOR.

Because learning how to drive is a one-of-a-kind experience, right? Yoichi Isagi’s side hustle includes being a driving instructor. 4.4k crack and a hint of fluff, yn is an idiot and doesn't know how to drive, isagi is an idiot,,, idiots in love !!! word vomit ahoyyyyy!!! ending is a bit rushed srry. NOT PROOFREAD I DONT GIVE A FAWK LET ME SLEEP.

Truth be told, university life had drained YOICHI ISAGI's pockets dry. Whether it was lunch, memberships, or football, his constant spending had set his bank account back to single digits.

He had little to no reaction at first, as he came to realize that yes, perhaps he did have the luxury experience of buying lunch too often, as his backpack slowly became a wasteland for all the long receipts from the restaurant across the street.

And yes, perhaps he had been a tad picky when choosing where to work out, preferring to pay a monthly membership for the gym a few blocks away than to use the free gym at his university, because according to him, 'it feels like sardines in a can, and I would very much rather put my major's knowledge to use and walk a few miles. Very useful for joint health, y'know!'

The football club did not help either, as he had to invest in clothing, shoes, and even supplements to maintain himself in good health. His vitamins had cost him a pretty penny, and his constant ruining of his t-shirts ended up in him scouring different shopping malls to replace them.

In his head, he thought everything would be just fine. He could wake up earlier and cook for himself, or even have yesterday's leftovers for lunch, thus saving on food. Begrudgingly, he accepted the fact that he would have to work out at his university, which would make his workouts longer due to the unavailability of every machine he ever desired to use.

'Everything will be alright' was the phrase which spun around in his mind. It brought him stability, a sense of peace. It distracted him so much, in fact, that it kept his mind clouded while training for his upcoming match against a team from Kanagawa. But cloudiness can lead to blindness, and blindness to disaster.

His right leg sprung, the ball on top of his foot as he hungrily aimed for the goal. The loose fit of his shoe went unnoticed as he kicked, with his foot suddenly feeling a lot... lighter than it should have.

"Yo, Isagi! Was that yours?"

Yoichi's jaw was on the floor, no sound coming out of his mouth. His teammates burst into laughter, with the image of his shoe flying across the field and into the roof of an unknown building stuck in their minds.

"If you don't find it, you're gonna have to get a new pair" his redheaded friend, Chigiri, exclaimed. His teammates nodded, with one of them, a white-haired man named Nagi, speaking up.

"You don't have a job, Isagi, what'll you do?"

"It's not lost" Yoichi shook his head, "I just need to get to the roof and get it."

He was not aware that it would take him around two hours to get to the building, because even though it was right behind the field, he couldn't directly cross over to it, and he got lost. He was also, unaware of the fact that he needed permission to enter the building, as well as the roof, which he did not have. His angry insisting towards the security guard had gotten his request denied, with a quick picture of his face being printed in front him, along with the words "NO ENTRY."

He sighed in desperation, as he unlocked his phone, his thumb swiping over the screen and opening an app, it's icon resembling that of a dollar sign. He typed his user and his password, and he let out an embarrassingly loud whine.

$0.59.

Single digits was him being too delusional.

He closed the app, opening his messages and texting his group chat, consisting of some of his friends from the club.

Isagi It's lost.

Nagi see i told you he'd need a new pair @ reo :x

Reo You need to get a job man

Chigiri You wanna join me at the coffee shop? The shifts aren't that bad imo

Bachira SELL SOMETHING I sell paintings and business has been BUZZING :3

For once, Bachira had given him some good advice. He did not necessarily have to sell something tangible, he could sell his services. Football lessons for little kids are what came to mind, yet quickly faded after he realized he would be biting off more than what he could chew as there were no kids in his residency, and if he were to travel that far into other parts of Tokyo, he would have to spend a lot on gas.

Wait. Gas?

It was then when the idea struck. His dad had gifted him his old car, which was manual, and had taught him how to drive. He did not use it much, as he mostly walked or used his bicycle to get to places.

Having obtained his license at 18, with his father always discussing tips and tricks with him every evening, Yoichi Isagi was certain of what he could do as a side hustle to earn some extra cash. Driving around his neighborhood would make for a investment in gas, but there was nothing that a quick loan from his father couldn't fix.

LEARN TO DRIVE QUICK. THREE DAY COURSE !!! I'm very patient, have a manual car (yes we will use my car), and it's only $150 !!!! Three hours daily!!! For more info please text Yoichi Isagi (that's me) at xxx-xxxx-xxxx

Yoichi smiled at the screen in front of him, seemingly proud of his 'advertisement'. He opened the messaging app and selected all of his contacts from campus, pressing 'send' as his desperation left him to reach out to his group chats for different classes, as well as people he did not even have class with.

He set his phone down on his desk, anxiously staring at it in hopes of receiving a notification. His phone buzzed multiple times, and excitedly, he unlocked it, only to find out it was his friends who had replied.

Bachira Sorry dude I cant, I already have my scooter I'll share it tho

Chigiri "I'm very patient" why do you lie??

Reo It looks like this took you 5 seconds to write

Isagi You judge my ad so bad why don't YOU buy my cleats then.

Reo I have better things to do

He rolled his eyes in annoyance, when a sudden notification popped up at the top of his screen, catching his attention. The number had not been saved on his phone—it was an unknown number! He jumped out of his seat from the excitement, quickly opening the message.

xxx-xxxx-xxxx Hi, is this Isagi? I'm interested in the driving lessons! Are you free next week? Also, do I pay at the end of the course or like every day?

Isagi Hi, yes this is Isagi! I'm totally free The lessons are held in my neighborhood, I'll send location. 𖡡 Location Don't worry about the payment, you can pay me at the end of the course!

xxx-xxxx-xxxx How funny, I actually live like 10 minutes away! My classes end at around 2, is it okay to pop up at 3?

Isagi Of course! Mind giving me your name so that I can know who I'll be teaching? :)

xxx-xxxx-xxxx Yn Ln!

His eyes read the name on the screen over and over again, making sure to remember it. Why wouldn't he, though? You were his first of many clients. Well, at least that was what he hoped..

The week went by in the blink of an eye, and Yoichi was nervous. He stood outside his home, his back leaning against his car door. He looked down at his wrist, checking his watch. 2:58. A figure slowly approached him, and as he looked up, the tip of his ears quickly turned pink as he straightened his posture and fixed the collar of his shirt in an attempt to make a good first impression.

"Hi! Isagi, right?" you questioned, your footsteps coming to a halt as you now stood in front of him. He nodded in response, stretching his arm and his hand meeting yours in a handshake.

"You must be Ln. Let's get started, okay?"

Yoichi guided you to the passenger seat, opening the door for you and closing it once you took a seat, with him reminding you to put on your seatbelt, and quickly walking towards the other side and sitting in the driver's seat.

After asking if you had any experience driving (and to Yoichi's relief, you answered a 'yes'), he gave a short recap of what one could find when getting into a car: a steering wheel, break, turn signal indicators, accelerator, and most importantly, the clutch and shift stick.

You stated you were a bit taken aback, as your family had owned an automatic car, meaning you had no experience with a clutch, and worse, switching gears. Yoichi let out a chuckle, reassuring you that it was totally fine. He explained how learning to drive manual was much better for you in the long run, as it turned driving automatic into a breath of fresh air. Plus, 'automatic cars give a kind reminder'.

"PRNDL."

"PRNDL?"

"Please Rest, No Dozing, Lad."

You giggled, watching how his eyebrows furrowed. "I'm serious, Ln! If you fall asleep on the road, something bad could happen."

Yoichi slipped in the key, his foot on the clutch as his hand turned the key, which was followed by the revving of the engine. He showed you the clutch, his foot on top of it, pressing it down as a demonstration on how to use it. Consequently, his right hand got ahold of the shift stick, moving it around to show you how you can let the stick be in neutral, different gears, or even reverse, and how to change them at any moment.

"If you want to drive, you need to be in first gear, then slowly remove your left foot from the clutch, then place your right on the accelerator. Like this..."

As he reenacted his words, you found yourself attentive to his every move. The way his left foot pressed the clutch, how his right hand oh-so-delicately handled the shift stick, moving it left then upwards to first gear, how his left foot slowly took off from the clutch, and how his right foot pressed the accelerator, how his eyelashes fluttered with each movement of his eyes, how his ears were now completely pink, how his lips were slightly parted—

You could not fuck up your first driving lesson because your instructor was cute. No fucking way.

Your thoughts were interrupted by your instructor, who had turned off the car, handing you the keys. "You ready to try it out?" he questioned, a glint of passion evident in his ocean blue eyes. Nervously, you nodded, Yoichi stepping out of the car and opening your door in return.

You fixed the seat and rearview mirrors, adjusting them to your liking. Putting on your seatbelt, you slid the key in the keyhole and placed your foot on the clutch. Yoichi cleared his throat, making you turn your head to look at him.

"Forgetting something?"

The knowing look in his eyes, as well as his raised eyebrow should have given it away, but to his surprise, you shook your head in response. He gave a disappointed smile, his index finger pointing to his chest.

"You didn't tell me to put my seatbelt on."

Your mouth made an 'o' shape as he slid the seatbelt across his torso, the clicking sound that followed assuring you that now you were ready to begin.

It was a slow start, with the engine turning on and your left foot on the clutch. You did as told, with Yoichi making sure that you applied the right amount of pressure on the pedals. Despite his car being a tad old, it was well taken care of. The pedals weren't stiff, and neither was the clutch. Its interior was clean, with the exterior carefully polished. You could tell it was his pride and joy.

After going around the neighborhood and practicing turns, you were surprised as to how quickly you had progressed. Sure, the car shut off while driving numerous times, but Yoichi's warm smile and his verbal reassuring that yes, this is very normal when it's your first time driving kept you from freaking out.

Three hours went by like three minutes, and you soon found yourself being Yoichi's passenger, as he had offered to drive you home. It was, for the most part, a quiet drive, with Yoichi initiating small talk here and there.

"So, how'd you find out about my lessons?"

"Oh! Bachira sent your message to our Ethics class group chat, since there's a bunch of different majors in there."

Yoichi's lips curled into a smile as he remembered his friend's promise to share his 'advertisement'. You asked him why he was offering a three day course, and he explained how he was in desperate need for new cleats for his upcoming match, which ended up in him rambling on about his favorite shoe brand, his problems with sizing, and how he would definitely need the money for a good pair.

You stared at him in complete awe. How could you not? The fiery look in his eye as he described his passion for football was captivating, enough to make you interested in what he was talking about, hanging on every word that left his lips.

Unfortunately for him, his train of thought had been interrupted.

"Uhh, Isagi? You just drove past my house."

Embarrassed, he tried to play it off. "I know, it's because you haven't learned how to drive in reverse yet" he stated, his attempt at being nonchalant being in vain.

You giggled as he turned his head to the back, his right hand moving the clutch to 'reverse' and then finding its way to your seat, holding your headrest to position himself into getting a better view. Slowly, he drove back, waiting for your signal to stop.

"I had fun" you smiled, "I'll see you tomorrow, teach."

"See you tomorrow" he chuckled, "Hey! Don't forget about PRNDL!"

Yoichi was patient. Just as promised. Even though your classmate Bachira had warned you that Isagi may have lied about it on his ad, a part of you had faith that Bachira's friend would find it in his heart to be patient. You convinced yourself that these driving lessons would be nothing short of fun.

And they were!

Until you found yourself wanting to be swallowed whole by the ground, cheeks boiling hot from how embarrassed you were.

The second day was... eventful. The car turned off, you accidentally knocked a trash can (which according to you appeared out of thin air) while driving in reverse, and your instructor found himself using the emergency brake quite a few times. It was too eventful for your liking, leaving you unable to muster up courage to make a move.

It was safe to say you left your driving lesson feeling dispirited. Especially since you had 'practically ruined your chances with Isagi after making a complete fool of yourself.'

Unbeknownst to you, the smile that was plastered on Yoichi's face once he arrived home was unlike any smile he had ever flashed before, as he rambled on and to the phone laying in front of him, the name 'Chigiri' sitting at the top of the screen.

"So Ln doesn't know how to drive."

"Yeah."

"And they almost crashed your car?"

"Yes!"

"Why do you sound so happy about that?"

Yoichi wasted no time in explaining how adorable you were in his eyes. Each movement of your face was carefully studied by him (when he was not looking at the road, of course), finding your expressions nothing short of cute. Your eyebrows raised in confusion as to why you couldn't switch gears, your eyes closing shut as the trash can mysteriously appeared (which earned you a scolding from him, but he felt very bad while doing so), and the way your face lit up in excitement as you finally mastered parallel parking.

Yoichi's heart skipped a beat.

"So, when're you gonna ask Ln out?"

"Dude I'm not even sure if Ln likes me."

"Do it tomorrow."

He rolled his eyes in annoyance, his thumb pressing the red button on his screen. "Yeah, yeah. G'night, princess."

Yoichi Isagi almost didn't sleep that night, his mind racing as your image popped by every few minutes. He just wanted to be helpful, is what he thought at first, thinking of techniques he could teach you, his cute pupil. The more he thought about it, the more entangled he was with his own thoughts, the thought of possible rejection making his heart sink.

At the same time, you laid in your bed, heart thumping as you buried your face in your pillow in an attempt to sleep. At one point, you and him thought the same thing:

I have three days to prove myself, so let's make it count.

Yoichi had planned ahead. Your comfort was his priority, and after seeing how frustrated you were the day before, he knew he had to cheer you up somehow.

So when you sat in his car's driver's seat on the third day of the course, Yoichi asked you for your favorite artist, playing their music at a low volume so that you would still be able to concentrate while driving.

"I want you to feel comfortable, and to not fear the wheel. If you feel nervous, chances are you're not gonna do well, Ln. So trust, okay?"

You nodded in response, turning on the engine. The ride was much smoother, and it seemed like Yoichi's plan had worked! You were much calmer, the car didn't shut off as much, and you had practically mastered driving up to third gear. As you drove around the neighborhood, you tried to downshift, finding yourself unable to do so properly, bringing the car to a halt.

Yoichi suggested double clutching, a technique he had learned from his father. After some back and forth, you agreed to try it, failing after the first try and shutting the engine off yet again, your face turning red in response. Your instructor took notice of your puffy cheeks and irritated expression, which meant that it was time to move on to the second phase of his plan.

He explained how, in order to practice shifting gears, you had to drive another lap around the neighborhood. You did as told, confused as to why Yoichi started giving different directions and telling you to turn towards streets you had not driven through before.

"Turn right at the next stop. Park, then wait for me 5 minutes."

Turning on the parking lights, you carefully parked the car where Yoichi explained. Looking at your surroundings, you noticed that Yoichi had made you stop outside a convenience store. He stepped outside of the car, his hand waving goodbye at you as he sprinted inside. A few minutes later he walked outside of the store, a bag in hand. He opened his door and sat inside, taking a packaged ice pop from outside the bag.

"It's for you" he smiled, handing you the ice pop. "Your face was red, so I figured we could cool off with a snack."

You thanked him, taking the ice pop from his hand and opening the packaging. You would be lying to yourself if you said the ice pop did not help with your frustration, as its delicious, juicy flavor calmed your senses. It was then when Yoichi struck up a conversation.

"So, how are you liking the driving lessons so far?"

"I like them, it's been fun! I mean—it's hard, but I'm hoping to get used to it, y'know?"

Yoichi smiled, exclaiming he was glad that you managed to find enjoyment in driving. He seemed as if he got lost in his own thoughts, the smile quickly fading and falling into a pout.

"Have I..."

He pauses, unsure of whether or not he wanted to ask, or if it was even worth asking. A part of him already knew the answer yet he slowly became doubtful, a small drop of insecurity staining his once confident train of thought.

"Have I been a good teacher?"

You loudly giggled, which concerned Yoichi even more, thinking that perhaps his worst fear actually came true. Fortunately for him, though, the words that left your mouth after were reassuring to him, his nervous expression changing into a joyful one.

"Are you kidding? Isagi—you're a great teacher. I don't think I would've learned to drive if I had anyone else as an instructor" you smiled, moving your hand with the ice pop so that yours could meet his. "You teach so good, I could honestly take you out to dinner."

You froze in your seat, wondering if your senses were playing games with you, or if you actually let that slip. Yoichi's whole face was a warm shade of pink, his lips slightly parting as if he was going to say something.

"...when?"

"What do you mean when?"

"When will we go to dinner?"

"Uhh... when do you want to go to dinner?"

The corner of Yoichi's lips curled to form a smirk as his gaze met yours, "Let's do this instead. If you pass your driver's exam with me, I'll pay for dinner. If you fail, you're paying."

"So yesterday you gave him a high-five with your popsicle, told him he's a great teacher, and asked him out to dinner?"

"...yes?"

"Did something happen today???"

"Not really. I mean, he was a bit awkward at first, and so was I! But we tried double clutching and the car didn't turn off!"

"And you called me because...?"

"Because I need you to meet up with me at the mall, Bachira" you smiled. Oddly enough, his voice was nothing but a comforting sound to you, distracting you from the fact that tomorrow would be your last day seeing Yoichi. Wanting to make it memorable, you hit up your trusted friend to act as your sidekick.

After explaining your idea to Bachira, he seemed more excited than you were. Perhaps it was the nerves, seeing as you would either be a star in Yoichi's eyes or a total embarrassment.

"You sure he's a nine?" you asked.

"Positive! I'm a nine and a half, and his shoes don't fit me. Just keep the receipt in case they don't fit so that he can change the size."

"And you're sure that these are the ones he likes?"

"Yup" he replied popping the 'p'. "Look, Yn, if he spent a good amount of time ranting to you about how he loves these, then I'm sure those are the ones."

"Are you really sure?"

"..."

"Bachira?"

"..."

"BACHIRA!"

"Sorry! Isagi texted me."

"What did he say?"

He laughed, "Nunya—I'm not a snitch. Gotta go, see ya in a few!"

Who knew shopping for cleats would be... such a hard ass procedure?

Heel slippage, playing surface, playing position, type of cleats, materials, size, weight, and more. The chunks of information swarming your brain all at once eventually made you dizzy. If it weren't for Yoichi's ramblings and Bachira's guidance (and what he knew from playing alongside Yoichi), you managed to find the perfect pair.

The odds were in your favor, because the same exact pair of cleats Yoichi lost were on sale.

After a sleepless night from the nervousness, and constant doubting of whether or not you made the right choice of purchasing cleats for a guy you met four days ago, you were ready for the final day. That is, if "ready" could be defined by letting your eyes close shut in an attempt to sleep as Yoichi explained his 'test', with him constantly asking if you're okay.

Yoichi was worried, with him even suggesting that you reschedule the test free of charge, but you shook your head in response, sliding in the key and turning the engine on.

Sure, it would have been nice to reschedule and see Isagi one last time, but your ego itched at the fact that you would be unable to drive at this moment.

Safe to say, the test was... alright. It started off as a few twists and turns, switching gears, double clutching, and parking parallel, perpendicular, and angle. Reverse parking was the biggest pain, though, as you almost knocked over a light post that "magically appeared", with Yoichi quickly pulling the emergency brake. After that teeny incident, though, things were smooth-sailing, with you parking outside your home and switching seats with Yoichi.

"So.. how did I do?"

"I mean..."

His expression was concerning, his eyebrows furrowed and his gaze so concentrated, it brought chills down your spine. Did you fuck up that badly?

"Light post aside," he stated, his expression suddenly changing into a cheerful one "I think you did a pretty good job! Congratulations, Ln!"

You sighed in relief, lips curling into a smile as you remembered the item you bought yesterday. Getting out of the car, you told him to wait there, quickly going inside your home and stepping out with a gift bag. He tilted his head to the side in confusion as you opened the door and sat in the passenger seat, a huge grin on your face.

"What's the bag for?"

"Just a little something for ya."

He carefully peeled the bag open, his eyes widening and his mouth falling agape in disbelief. Taking the box out of the bag, he opened it, only to find a brand new pair of cleats, the exact same pair he had lost a while back.

"Did you really..?"

You nodded.

The amount of "thank you's" that escaped Yoichi's lips were far too many to count, eventually becoming some sort of slurred, unrecognizable chant. You giggled as you watched him trace his fingers around the cleats, utterly enamored by them.

"About the payment, Isagi, I don't have cash so I was wondering if you accepted wire transfer—"

"Oh, don't worry about it."

"Huh?"

"Yeah there's no need! The cleats are enough."

Yoichi grinned as he took off the emergency break and fastened his seatbelt, waiting for you to do the same. His hand was on the shift stick, and his foot was on the clutch.

"Where are we going?"

"Dinner" he smiled, "You passed, so I'm taking you out to dinner."

You smiled as you relaxed in the passenger seat, your eyes naturally closing from exhaustion.

"Sleepy? You can doze off, it's a long way to where we're going."

You sighed pleasantly as you felt your body slowly falling asleep as Yoichi softly mumbled to himself.

"...please rest now, dear lover."

[borderlinebox]

One shot request 💗🙏

Imagining reader sometimes reciprocating chishiya’s way of affection that shows that he cares but not in a petty way

Like in the morning he makes them their favorite drink before he goes to work? they’re waking up earlier than him and (failing to stay awake) trying to make his coffee without accidentally losing focus and mess up 😭 (in the end the taste of the coffee sucks but is he gonna tell them that? Yeah probably)

him occasionally bringing food and soda drinks from the vending machine for reader bc they tend to forget to take breaks every so often? they’re pulling their sleeves back and ready to make homemade lunches for his long shift at the hospital

Post it notes on the fridge? Post it notes on said lunches (what’s written on it? it’s either words of affirmation and encouragement or just messing with him with the nickname doc)

Does he finds it endearing? ig (yeah)

Reciprocate

Summary: You reciprocate Chishiya's way of affection.

Pairing: Chishiya x Reader

Warning: fluff <3, reader being so in love, complete utter cuteness and affection, a bit funny, goofy reader being dumb in a cute way, not proofread! , chishiya says 'thank you' ?!??!11?1, lil ooc!chishiya

A/N: giggling like a real child rn <3 <3

Feedback is highly appreciated!!!

Trial #1 - Morning Coffee

You knew Chishiya wasn't a very showy person. Especially when it came to his feelings. So whenever he showed you some kind of affection, no matter how subtle it was, you always took note of it.

All the small details mattered.

Everyday, Chishiya would wake up early and make you your favorite drink every morning he got a chance to. Which was less than often, due to his job. But he always did when he had the extra time. You would wake up just before he'd finish it and leave for work so you can take your drink while it was still hot.

The problem was that your boyfriend would almost always get up early in order to start and leave early.

And you on the other hand, took your time with your beauty sleep.

So you decided to come up with a plan that would be so effective and greatly efficient. Something so clever that even you were so stunned that you came up with this idea in the first place.

You decided to stay up all night.

Now, it seemed quite hard at first, especially having to sleep next to somebody and try to not wake them up, but you were more than determined to try something like this. You honestly weren't even allowed to work past midnight when Chishiya was home because it would, and you quote, 'dIsRUpT yOUr heAltH'.

Which you also called him a hypocrite for.

It was starting to seem quite difficult to do, but once you pulled through the first phase where Chishiya would start to fall asleep, you felt accomplished. Now you were gonna have to not move for the next 6 to 8 hours.

For the first few minutes and into hours, it was going quite fine.

You shifted from time to time in order to not feel numb, but you were still not really tired. Instead, you decided to use your imagination and have debates on yourself whether reality was or wasn't real at all.

It was a fun debate.

You got immersed in your thoughts that you managed to get through a few hours.

But then you started to feel the tiredness grip you tight and slowly pull you closer so you could succumb to the pleasure of sleep. Then for the next few 10 minutes, you were fighting this need for sleep - In which you called it weak.

You could feel yourself blinking slowly as slumber started to take you hostage. And after more battles, you had actually closed your eyes and took a rest.

However, out of all the days, your body's inner alarm clock woke you up an hour before Chishiya would wake up. As you looked at the alarm clock beside your bed, you internally cursed and immediately shifted out of the bed, trying to get out as quiet and softly as possible.

You didn't want to wake him up yet - that was the point in all of this.

After about 5 minutes of quiet shifting, you managed to get outside your door. Which took you an embarassingly long time due to how tired you still were.

You started making his usual coffee. It wasn't anything too difficult or anything, but you could definitely still do it.

If you weren't too sleepy right now.

Every dozen seconds, you could feel yourself slip away and you didn't even pay attention to how much coffee you were already adding in. Or anything, for that matter.

Ultimately, it became a failure.

However, you didn't exactly know that.

Just about when you finished, you were waken up by the sound of your bedroom door opening. In a reflex, you started to slouch-lean onto the counter and smile awkwardly.

"Morning, Chishi." You waved lazily.

"Why are you awake?" Chishiya said, more in a statement than a question. He could tell from the two coffee cups on the table that you made coffee. He just wanted to know why you bothered to do this.

"I made coffee!" You slurred, pushing one cup towards him and patting the seat next to you. "Ffffor you."

He made his way towards you, taking a peek at his own coffee, which looked quite different from his usual. He looked back at you. "It's.. quite different."

"Cause I made it." You smiled.

Chishiya eyed it for a while before taking it and bringing it up to his lips and taking a sip. He place it back down and clicked his tongue.

"Yeah, it tastes bad." He stated nonchalantly. Sometimes his brutally honest nature kind of made you feel bad.

"That's not true," You took the cup and sipped it before putting it back. "Yep, that's not good."

You placed your head in your arms and sighed. "Sorry, I just wanted to make you something."

Chishiya smiled softly, not that you could see it since you were busy sulking.

"Well, you certainly did try." He shrugged, "And I guess that's enough. Now I'll make the coffee this time."

You watched him as he re-did everything. You were a bit saddened that you weren't able to give him something of a gift. But you were happy that your effort was acknowledged at the very least.

He placed your cup down in front of you while holding his own. In light embarrassment, you peeped out a small and tired 'thank you' to which Chishiya gave a small endearing nod at you.

That morning, not many words were exchanged after. But you knew he was somewhat grateful of your reciprocation.

But you vowed to try harder next time.

‎

Trial #2 - Lunch Box

‎

Your eyes flickered open. Darting them to the side, you looked at your alarm clock.

It was an hour early. What a miracle.

All senses of tiredness left your person and you decided to try and do something for Chishiya again. The coffee you made yesterday was a total bust though..

You wriggled out of bed once again and made your way to the kitchen, deciding to something even extra for your lover.

You decided to cook for him. You don't have the world's worst skills and you can read so that was a plus.

Besides, when Chishiya came home yesterday, he had informed you of the long shift he was going to have today. You weren't just gonna let him starve in the hospital; he'll just shrug it off when someone asks why he hadn't eaten yet. It could be just your overthinking but it could happen.

You opened the fridge to find some other ingredients but came across your favorite drink, which Chishiya had gotten for you when he came home. He already kept tabs on the things you liked and disliked. You found it sweet.

Maybe you woke up earlier today because of your subconscious beating you the fuck up and do something in return.

You continued on to create his lunchbox. True to yourself, you were going to miss him when he goes - You always do.

You took the time with your work and smiled happily as it was finished. Now you were just washing the dishes as the rays of light from the sun hit the window and shined through the small open drapes from your living room. You enjoyed these moments. When everything is peaceful and silent - A great thing for you.

As you cleaned up, you heard some shuffling behind you, causing you to turn around, seeing Chishiya standing there, with his jacket on from last night.

"Awake early again?" Chishiya asked sleepily, still quite tired - he didn't look like he got much shuteye last night.

"Yup!" You turned around. "I made you breakfast and a lunchbox!" A giddy and excited smile was present on your face.

"Is that so?" He asks with a unostentatious smile, looking over to the cute box you prepared. You hadn't placed the lid on yet. "Well, it looks better than yesterday's" He teased blankly which earned him a small, embarrassed playful nudge to his shoulder.

"I'm sure its better!" You said and went back to the kitchen to prepare the food, leaving Chishiya sitting down to watch you.

He sat on the stool, watching you prepare other things. Your movements were a little slow and it was obvious that you haven't been getting much sleep lately. But you looked quite content with what you were doing.

"Hey…" Chishiya said breaking you out of your train of thought.

"Hmm?" You hummed, turning around to face him.

"Thank you." He muttered out sincerely, but it was even barely a whisper.

You fully turned around with a shit-eating grin. "Oh? What's this? THE Chishiya Shuntaro saying 'thank you'?"

Chishiya only rolled his eyes and ignored your comment. Honestly, you would always indulge in every domestic moment you got with him, since it was so rare to even witness him like this So, if it was going to come up again, then it must've really meant a lot to him.

Turning around, you finished up the dishes, "No problem."

You finally answered, absolutely joyful. Not only did you succeed this time, you got a thank you from him, but what you never knew was the multiple silent thanks and appreciative looks he gave you whenever you weren't looking. Maybe it just wasn't the time for you to see them yet.

Trial #3 - Post It Notes

Chishiya had finally gotten a small lunch break from his excruciatingly stressful work today. Dealing with complaints, cranky patients and even crankier visitors certainly wasn't easy as many people said it could be. He also had meetings and meetings where he just couldn't get any free moments in between because of some stupid ass excuse.

But he finally got a moment to appreciate the sheer silence of a room and the lunch you had prepared earlier.

He searched for the bag he brought on his desk and pulled out the box.

..Weird. He opened the cellophane around it and found a small post it note that seemed to hang loosely on the lid. The handwriting was quite messy which probably happened due to how tired you looked when you were done. He wasn't complaining though.

He reached the paper and picked it up.

' take a break, doc! ' accompanied by a drawing of a winky smiley face with its tongue out.

Would he be lying if he said he didn't find it cute or endearing? Maybe. Was he smiling? In his head, sure yeah. Was he going to throw the note away?

Chishiya folded the note and placed it inside the bag where he once found it and began indulging his break time with the lunch you had made for him today. But as it turned out, it wasn't the only thing you made today.

Sooner than later, he had finished his meal and went to place the now empty box back into his bag. Your cooking was good, average at least, but good. Before he placed the food box in, he noticed another note that was left in the underside of the bag.

'mwah <3' was all it said, but he noticed there was a writing on the back of it, 'turn it around!'

Seemed like it was supposed to be set facing a particular side.

Chishiya was silently enjoying himself with these notes until the door snapping open caught his immediate attention. "Doctor, a patient's calling for you." A nurse said witha bead of sweat falling down the side of their face. Chishiya nodded and sighed before quickly placing the contents of the bag back inside.

Just as he was being reminded of taking a sweet break and reading the sweet notes, he had to turn back into a doctor again.

Trial #4 - Forbidden Words and A Truth

11:28 PM

Chishiya stood in front of the apartment door both of you had shared, almost completely wet from the rain while he was coming back home. He was searching for the keys inside his wet jacket's pockets, wriggling his hands into any empty space he could find.

"There it is," He whispers out with a hidden victor behind his voice and takes it out of his pocket, more than ready to change and just head to bed.

By now, he guessed that you had already slipped off to bed by now or decided to be rebellious and watch some tv. But considering there were no noises of loud laughter or sobbing from the inside, you were probably fast asleep.

Chishiya unlocked the door and quickly stepped in to be greeted with the dark blue hued room. The only light coming from a small lit lamp in the corner of the living room and the moonlight that shined through the peak of a curtain.

He quietly closed and locked it, making it past your kitchen counter to put his bag on top of it.

However, before he could retreat into the comfort of the sheets and you in his bedroom, he noticed a note written on the fridge.

'Welcome home :) there's fruit inside'.

And when he opened the fridge door, there was indeed fruit - Cute, tiny pieces inside a bowl.

Chishiya stared at it, only now his mind wandered off to the thoughts that wondered why you had decided to do all these wonderful, small yet meaningful things? He definitely finds it utmost endearing but he was never going to tell or show you that. And it appears that you were more than happy to be up to the task of implementing his affections.

Maybe he just wasn't used to this kind of reciprocation.

Closing the fridge door, he shoved his hands into his pockets and walk to your bedroom with things he wanted to say to you. He changed his fit-wear and made his way to sit on the bed you two shared.

He watched your sleeping figure - the way your chest heaved up and down, the small snores, and anything that reminded the world that you were human.

He loved all of you. Something he would never admit to your face, not yet.

Chishiya leaned back onto the headboard and sighed, placing a hand and caressing your hair. "I just wanted to tell you something, Y/N. And I hope you're asleep as I do so. I was awake when you made me coffee, and the time you made me breakfast. I was awake when you didn't know. But you looked so happy as you did all those things for me, even when it was terrible." He chuckled onto himself, his tired eyes falling on you before he muttered those three iconic words under his breath.

Things he thought he'd never say.

[fallinforerling]

Could you write Erling Haaland x reader

Reader meeting his dad and being great friends before she ever meet Erling and she didn't connect that they are related. So maybe her going to Norway with Erling to meet his family and his dad being happy to see her. Just a lot of fluff

-🌹🌹

HAVE YOU MET BEFORE? | chapter 1 - e.h

A/N: My 🌹🌹 anon, it wasn't my intention to actually create a mini series with this request but... IT'S HAPPENING. Hope y'all enjoy this, because it's so ADORABLEEEEEE. Thank you all for 722 followers, love you all xx

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The fun part about owning any kind of shop was the fact that, after some time, you gained regular customers. Of course, they weren’t a lot, but they were yours. And you loved every single one of them. Well, most of the people. Some customers were just insufferable. Luckily, that wasn’t regularly the case. 

Nonetheless, it was weird when a new one joined the group; most of the customers that you saw during the week never came back more than twice per month, and you didn’t know what to do to keep them coming more often. Maybe a type of promotion? 2x1 on cupcakes? Buy two books and get breakfast out of the selection? You sighed, looking out of the window. You needed to think a bit harder about it. 

Just when you were starting to get deep into the analysis of the market and the endless options you possibly had in front of you, the little bell by the door rang, letting you know someone just came in. 

“Welcome!” You said, smiling at the man who was still by the door, looking around with curiosity in his eyes. “May I help you?” 

He retrieved his eyes from the few shelves full of books to his right, focusing on your face, and then on the counter, fully stocked with fresh pastries and cookies. You smiled again when his eyes focused back on your face, feeling somehow proud of the attention he was giving to your goodies. 

“They are all fresh; I baked them this morning.” 

“Oh, are they homemade? That’s amazing.” He finally spoke, surprising you with a little bit of an accent. “What do you recommend?” 

“If I were you, I’d totally get the butter cookie, a good croissant filled with cream cheese, and a cappuccino.” You made a little gesture with your hands. “It all wraps up pretty nicely; it’s my go-to thing when I want a good breakfast before work.” 

“Very well, I’ll take that.” He got closer to the counter, still eyeing the rest of the options. “And you know what? Let me get two nutella croissants and some of these little ham pastries right there. Oh, and maybe a couple of cookies... Mmmh, two with oats, two with chocolate chips, and two butter ones.” He smiled when he saw your surprised expression. “I have a son that eats a lot.” 

You laughed along with him, still writing down his order. 

“I can’t blame him, food is the best thing in the world.” You paused, doubting a bit. “Would you like all that to go?” 

“Please.” He sat down on one of the stools next to the coffee machine. “But I’ll have the cream cheese croissant and the coffee here. He’s training, so I’m free for another hour.” 

“Oh yeah? Training for what?” You liked to chat with clients whenever you could. They always had the most interesting stories.  

“He’s a footballer, you know? Just like his father.” He seemed very proud of it. 

“That’s so cool! I hope he does well.” You smiled at him after leaving his coffee in front of him. “I’ll give you some sugar if you want.” 

“Oh no, I’m fine... By the way, is this your shop?” 

“Yep, I opened not so long ago, but it’s going well. I really enjoy being an owner.” 

“That’s very good, I’m happy for you. It’s difficult to start a business when you’re young, but if you keep your mind on it, everything will go exactly as you plan.” 

“Thank you, sir.” He really seemed like a nice person. “Here you go, all packed up for the big boy. Make sure he eats some of it warm, it’s better like that.” 

“I will, I will. He’ll be thankful for this treat, I can assure you that.” He laughed along, and you hoped for him to come back more often. You could be happy with just one more nice customer like him. 

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You were annotating some orders you got by phone, a reservation made by Thomas, a regular customer who really wanted one of the tables for him by lunch time, and counting how much milk you had left before you actually ran out when the bell rang. Your eyes immediately went from the notebook between your hands to the door, smiling a bit when you saw the person already walking towards the counter. 

“Hello there, Alfie.” 

The blonde man made a little reverence, making you laugh. Weeks passed by, and he, as you suspected, became a regular. Every time he could, he passed by and bought some breakfast for him and a big amount of things for his son, who you grew more and more curious to know more about. You didnʼt know why, but you already felt like you knew this son of his pretty well, although you hadn’t asked for his name, because it seemed a bit overbearing. Plus, the man was very funny, which made your morning bearable. 

“Hello dear.” He sat on the same stool as always, already eyeing the freshly baked items. “The usual.” 

You nodded, grabbing a cream cheese croissant and the milk, ready to make him his daily cappuccino. 

“Howʼs the big boy doing? Did that pain on his leg went away?” 

“Big boy” was the nickname you gave Alfieʼs son. None of you ever mentioned the fact that you didnʼt know his real name or age, but both of you seemed fine with it. You didnʼt want to appear extremely curious or anything like that, although you were. Alfie seemed to be a bit famous from how much he was recognized in the shop the few times he stayed longer than his usual hour, when it was just him and you. He also said he was a footballer when he was younger, but you didn’t dare to google him. It felt disrespectful. 

“Ah yeah, that thing was just a little discomfort, but the physio already said it was nothing. Heʼs good now, back on the field. Stronger than ever.”

“Iʼm happy to hear that.” You said, assuming that was all the information you were going to get. “Make sure he rests a lot and drinks water, the pain will be back if he doesn’t give himself a break.” 

“Ah, I try to, but the boy is as stubborn as I was back in the day. I guess thatʼs what I get by educating him with my mentality of never giving up, huh?” You giggled when he raised his eyebrows. “Oh, by the way, my dear. Iʼm going back to Norway a little bit earlier than expected. So I wonʼt be around here a lot for the next couple of weeks, take care, mmh? Iʼll miss these pastries you make.” He said after he finished his plate, already grabbing the box full of sweets to take with him. 

In the past few weeks, you learned that Alfie was from Norway, lived in the country-side for most of his free time, had five children, and hated Manchester United. It didnʼt seem like a lot, but since he was a private person, you knew it was a lot of information coming from him. 

“Aw! Well, make sure to take care as well. And say hi to your wife, she seems like a lovely person.” You doubted for a second before speaking again. “Why donʼt come here before you leave? Maybe you can take some of them with you?” 

“Iʼll think about it!” He finally got up, smiling at you one last time. “See you later, darling.” 

“Bye! Have a great trip!” 

Aw, youʼll miss that old man.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ * ERLING’S TAGLIST @questionable-behaviour | @koufaxx | @xjval

[say-hwaet]

High Sierra: A Red Dead Redemption Story

Chapter 14: Stay Previous Chapter Chapter Summary: Now that Arthur is finally awake, there are some things that need to come out in the open. The question is, how? Warnings: Mature themes, Foreplay Word Count: 12,400 words (longer chapter, but I couldn't figure a good place to break it. Sorry!)

Three days have passed since Arthur regained consciousness and Eliza has hardly left the hospital. Almost every time he has woken up, there she is, waiting. Her devotion hasn't gone unnoticed, but every time he tries to gather the courage to tell her how he truly feels about her, they are either interrupted by a nurse checking in or he chickens out.

He can face a murderer and drug dealer amidst a fiery inferno but he can’t even say “I love you” to a woman?

But that’s just it, this isn’t just any woman. This is Eliza.

Arthur has begun to wonder about her. How has she been able to be at the hospital all the time? Does she have a lot of time off work saved? It would make sense, considering the hours she’s put into her job, but where is Isaac? Is he with Hosea and Bessie?

He misses his son. He wants to see him.

It is early afternoon and Nurse Amy has just finished checking Arthur’s vitals. It is good timing too, for his lunch was just brought in and he’s starving.

“I can see the drool on your face,” Nurse Amy teases and after taking her stethoscope out of her ears and letting them rest against her neck, she personally brings the tray of food into Arthur’s lap. “You act as though you haven’t ever had a decent meal.”

Arthur immediately grabs a fork. “Don’t let her hear you say that…” he chuckles.

With his fork he points to Eliza, who is sitting in a chair near the adjacent wall, looking through a newspaper. She looks up from the pages and raises a brow. “Don’t you worry, I’ll cook you plenty once you check out of here.”

Arthur’s heart can’t help but skip a beat. To even lightly mention cooking his meals means so much more than just a kind deed from her heart. It implies something. That they’ll be seeing each other often.

He can only smile once her eyes meet his, but he quickly looks back down to work on his meal. He lifts the metal covering and reveals a chicken fried steak with green beans and a biscuit. Well. It could be worse. Taking his fork, he cuts into the breaded chicken and takes a bite. It definitely isn’t Eliza’s cooking. It needs salt and maybe some herbs. But he isn’t about to say anything and complain, being raised to eat what he’s offered.

“Okay, Mr. Morgan,” says Nurse Amy in a sing-song voice as she approaches the large oxygen machine. “Let’s give those lungs of yours a little break for a while.” And with a gentle push of a button, The nurse switches Arthur's oxygen back on. As a routine, she'll turn it off in five hours. Hopefully, after weaning him from the help of oxygen day by day, he won't need it at all. Regardless, Arthur has been doing better, which gives Eliza hope.

The nurse smiles at Arthur. “I will check back on you in a while okay?” And after offering a smile toward Eliza, she leaves the room.

A peaceful silence falls in the room, aside from the crinkling of the newspaper as Eliza turns a page and the clinking of Arthur’s fork on his plate as he continues to eat away at his chicken. It’s quite comforting, now that he can sit up and not cough every few seconds. He has never liked people worrying or fawning over him, and the sooner he gets out of this hospital, the better.

The image of Hosea' and Bessie’s worried faces still haunt him. He could tell that they were trying to be strong for him, to not let him berate himself for their worry, but there wasn’t much that his parents could hide from him. He’s grateful to have parents who do care, otherwise, he’d be in a much more terrible situation. If being nearly burned alive and ending up in a hospital was what it took to get the folks he does have, he’d go through with it a hundred times over.

But there is much more to be thankful for.

He eyes Eliza as she calmly reads the paper, her brown eyes scanning across the pages. She’s always been a fast reader. She can go through books like a kid with a bag of jellybeans. It’s always made him quite curious as to how you could ever take an interest in such things, but he supposes that’s the best thing about being different. And he’s glad, too, for Isaac also has developed a love for reading, making him an avid learner at school.

But something seems to really grab your attention with that paper. It is the local paper, so maybe she’s reading the most relevant news.

Arthur swallows and clears his throat. "Eliza?" Arthur asks. After a second or two, she slowly looks up from her paper. He licks his chapped lips. "Does it say anything more about the fire? Or Micah in there?"

She flips back to the front page and skims over it. "No, it doesn't. I wasn't even looking for it."

"Then, what are you reading?"

She doesn't look up from the paper, avoiding his gaze. "The help wanted section."

He blinks, there’s only one reason why she could be doing that. "What? Why?"

She hesitates, but after a moment, she slowly lifts her eyes to meet his gaze, exhaling slowly. "I quit Bronte's."

Eliza has been working there for ten years. She worked her way up from washing dishes to managing the place. Years of hard work to quit? This is unlike her. "Woah, really? Why did you quit? What happened?"

She shrugs. Eliza wants to spare Arthur most of the details. She’s kept most of her work life private, knowing what Arthur would do, even if their own relationship has been rocky. Arthur is loyal to a fault, and if he caught wind of the things that Bronte has said and done over the years, he would do more than just share words with the business owner. "A lot of things. I was tired of Mr. Bronte. He made several "propositions" that I refused, and he was mad that I had to take time off to be here with you. Your parents were kind enough to take Isaac so I could be here."

Arthur feels anger building up inside him, his protective nature seething in his tone. "What kind of propositions?"

Eliza remains silent, speaking volumes without saying a word. He clenches his fists, nearly turning his apple into applesauce. "Had I known, I'd–"

She quickly stands up, holding out a hand as she sets the paper down in her chair. "That's why I never told you. I needed my job, but now I realize there are other things that are more important." Eliza walks over to his bed and sits down without encroaching on his space. She studies his angered expression and worried that he will go into a coughing fit, she tries to reassure him by giving him a comforting smile.

And just as Arthur parts his lips to speak, they hear a tap on the door. After a short pause, the doctor comes walking in, face nonchalant but welcoming.

"Good morning." He turns to Eliza and a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "I expected you'd be here this morning."

Eliza quickly rises from Arthur’s bed, clearing her throat. "Good morning, doctor."

He pulls out the clipboard from under his arm and flips to a page, taking out his pen. "Nurse Amy gave me his vital results, but humor me: has he been coughing much since you've been here?"

Eliza glances back at Arthur, who is calming down and has set his apple back on the tray in his lap. "Only once, but he was just put on oxygen."

He nods and notes something down on his clipboard. "Very good. That just confirms things for me."

No longer interested in his meal, Arthur sets his lunch tray on the end table next to his bed. "Is everything alright, doc?"

"Yes. I have good news, Mr. Morgan. Since you woke up, you've been making a steady recovery. You've beaten the odds against you."

Arthur likes where this is going and sits up more in his bed. "So...I get to go home?"

The doctor grins broadly, nodding his head. "In two days, yes. We just want to make sure the oxygen is helping you. You'll be on it for a couple more weeks and we will prescribe the medicine you have been taking.”

Arthur smiles. “That’s great news, I’ve been eager to get back to workin’ with Charles and—”

The doctor holds up a hand, his smile fading. “Just a moment, Mr. Morgan.”

Arthur blinks and looks at Eliza. She doesn’t look perplexed. Her eyes are soft, empathetic, and she turns to look at the doctor. “He’s not going back to work is he?”

And when he sees the doctor nod, Arthur feels his heart sink a little. “Because your body is still in recovery, Mr. Morgan, you are prohibited from returning to work until we have cleared you. You will need someone to help look after you for a few weeks. Now, we can have a home health nurse check on you—"

But Eliza cuts him off. "I'll do it."

Arthur and the doctor turn to Eliza. She shrugs her shoulders. "I have the time and I am used to taking care of our son, who has cancer."

The doctor nods thoughtfully, considering the suggestion before turning back to Arthur. The room falls silent as all eyes turn to the patient lying in the hospital bed. His gaze meets Eliza's and a rush of warmth overcomes him, causing his heart to swell with emotion. He tries to maintain his composure, but a small smile betrays his true feelings. "I’m fine with that," he says calmly, though inside he is filled with gratitude for her presence by his side during this difficult time.

"Great. I took the liberty to bring up the paperwork with me if you both would like to sign."

Eliza nods softly and approaches the doctor. "Sure."

He flips through the pages on the clipboard and using the pen, indicates where she should sign. She quickly signs it and then the doctor hands it to Arthur. He signs his name and taking it back, the doctor sighs, satisfied. "Alright, that should do it. Pending on how the test comes back in two days, you should be good to go, Mr. Morgan."

"Thank you, doctor."

The doctor nods, then turns to leave. Once he is out of hearing range, Eliza goes to sit back down next to Arthur on his bed.

Silence tends to be the thing that happens between them. It is not unbearable, or uncomfortable, but there is always a lingering thought in the back of Eliza’s mind. A question, something that she’s been meaning to ask, but has never had the gumption to bring forward. But, now that things have settled, and there is more hope for Arthur’s recovery, she has the courage to ask.

"Arthur," she begins, "why did you list your relationship with me on your emergency contact list as 'wife?' I thought you listed me as a friend of the family."

Arthur's expression changes and his eyes shift briefly. He had almost forgotten he had done that. After a moment he sighs and runs a hand through his tousled hair. He knew he had to tell her, but it would also share too much. "Eliza, I–I had meant to tell you, but I wanted you to be an emergency contact. They wouldn't let me list you differently." That isn’t the full truth. At the time, their relationship was changing. But when Mary showed up, he didn’t think things would have resulted in how they did. And with all of that investigating, sneaking around, asking questions, he was asking his own heart and mind questions. He was searching his heart for what he wanted, and when things began to get dangerous, he wanted to make provisions in the event things went wrong, even if it meant lying a little in his health disclosures. But he doesn’t want to bring that up now.

Eliza looks at him and feels her heart sink a little, hoping that it is something different, but tries to make light of the situation. "Oh. They didn't have 'it's complicated?'"

Arthur chuckles, shaking his head. "I guess not."

They are silent again. Nothing new. Nothing has changed.

Well, some things have changed, and Arthur has more concerns now.

"You don't have a job anymore," Arthur says softly, concern lacing his voice. "I can't have you takin’ care of me."

Eliza furrows her brow, crossing her arms as she meets Arthur’s gaze with intense eyes. "Why not? I want to. It makes the most sense."

"But what are you going to do for work?"

Eliza shrugs, a small smile playing on her lips. "I have enough money saved to cover rent for a little while. I've started looking for a new job, so I am hopeful."

Arthur isn’t satisfied. "But that could take a while."

And she isn’t going to argue. She sighs, regretfully. "Yes, it could. But I'll make due. I have had worse happen to me, financially."

Arthur's expression softens and he feels his heart pull towards her. Perhaps he could do something. Maybe? No, that would be crazy.

On the other hand, crazier things have happened.

Arthur swallows thickly, giving him a chance to find the words. "Why don't you and Isaac stay at my place for a while? It's big enough, and you both will have a place to stay."

Eliza shakes her head and he can already feel the ache in his chest. "I don't want to push ourselves on you, Arthur. Not after what we talked about."

And taking a risk, he reaches out to place his hand on hers as it rests on the bed. She doesn’t pull away, giving him a jolt of excitement he felt he wasn’t allowed to have. "You're not. Believe me. This could also save you a trip in gas money, and we'd be close to my parents, should we need anythin’."

Eliza's brows furrow in uncertainty, but after a brief moment of hesitation, she gives a reluctant nod. "I suppose we can do this, Arthur. But just for a short time. Until I can get a job." She bites her lip, worry etched on her face as she contemplates the uncertain future ahead of them. The weight of her decision hangs heavily in the air between them, knowing that this may change things, that this might draw her closer to him. And it scares her.

Arthur lifts his hands in a gesture of mock surrender. "That's fine."

But deep down, he hopes it will be forever.

***

With Eliza at the wheel, she and Arthur pull up to his house. It sits on the edge of a forest and, as with all country properties, the only way to it is either by horseback, four-wheeler, or a long, rough, gravel driveway. Eliza’s car can handle it, thankfully, as long as she takes it slow and avoids the big divots. Arthur didn’t complain the whole way up, or correct her driving, so she must have done something right. 

It has been a while since Eliza has been up here, in fact, it was before Isaac got cancer. She remembers there being a rustic cabin look to the house, but it is larger. It has three bedrooms, and why Arthur bought it, she'll never understand. For Arthur, it was all about location, and upon getting his job as a game warden, it was like a present to himself. At the time, he thought that if he bought a house and made a good enough home, it would win Mary back, but she had already married. In retrospect, he is glad Mary has never seen it.

Hosea and Bessie will be coming by later to bring Isaac, so Eliza wants to freshen up his room for him. Eliza will be staying in the guest room, of course. She doesn’t mind. 

She’s sat in the car long enough. Turning to Arthur, she asks, “You ready to get out?”

He doesn’t speak? But answers by nodding his head. 

They both get out of the car, Arthur takes his time, as he navigates getting out with the portable oxygen tank he has to cart around for a few hours each day. Looking at Arthur gives Eliza flashbacks to when Isaac had one. His health couldn’t be hidden now and after trying to keep it under wraps, strangers would stare and children would point. Isaac didn’t seem bothered with it, but oh, did it bother her. And after being on oxygen for so long, Doctor Dorkins had feared the cancer had spread to his lungs, but thankfully it never has and hopefully, it never will.

Eliza comes around to the passenger side to check on Arthur, who is not yet out of the car. "Are you good, Arthur?"

"Shoah," he grunts, finally standing on his own two feet and closing the car door. "It's been a while since I've had to move about.” He pants, laughing weakly. “It's good for me."

If he wants to be mobile, it may be best to have a gentle introduction to activity. Knowing Arthur, he’d try to hike ten miles if he got the inking. Eliza tentatively places a hand on Arthur’s arm, for the sake of touch alone rather than for support. "Maybe if you're up to it, Isaac and I can take walks with you down the driveway."

He nods, his marine eyes meeting hers. "Sounds good."

Eliza smiles softly as she steps away, heading to the back of her car, and opens the trunk. She grabs a suitcase in one hand and swings one of Isaac's treatment kits on her shoulder. She looks at Arthur’s raised brow and smiles with a grunt. "Well, lead the way."

Turning towards the house, Arthur walks at a steady pace up the rest of the driveway and Eliza follows, watching him closely. The stairs slow him down a little bit, but she doesn't want to rush him or push him.

As he takes the next step, he looks back at her over his shoulder. “Ain’t you gonna say anythin’?”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “You really think I’m that impatient?”

He just chuckles, facing ahead again, and carefully takes the next step. Once he reaches the top, he steps aside to let her pass and she hurries to the door with his key. She unlocks it with ease and after opening the door, they finally make it inside.

Eliza starts to reacquaint herself with the house. She remembers the big painting on the living room wall and the wood counters in the kitchen in the far left corner. To the immediate right is the dining room. Passing through the kitchen is a hallway that leads to the den. Beyond the dining room is a set of stairs that leads to the guest bathroom and bedrooms. All clean and tidy, the air smelling of cedar and wintergreen, but still with the air that someone lives here, with dining chairs not pushed in and several coats hanging by the door and muddy boots resting beneath.

"Do you remember your way around?" Arthur asks, interrupting her thoughts.

She nods slowly, her eyes still roaming about the place. "It's coming back to me."

"Okay. I'm going to get myself something to drink then take a long bath.” He starts to make his way into the kitchen, carting the oxygen tank behind him. You want anythin’?"

Eliza takes a step, but it’s small and hesitant. "Some water would be fine."

He was half-expecting her to ask for a whiskey, after all they've gone through the past few weeks, but leave it to Eliza to be a little unpredictable. "Shoah." Teaching the kitchen, he rests against the counter for a minute, and when he lists his head, he sees Eliza staring at him. “I’m fine, Eliza.”

But she isn’t convinced, for her brow pinches. “I can get myself some water if—”

Arthur cuts her off. “If I can’t get water in my own house, then I ain’t much use to anyone. You’ve been talkin’ about gettin’ Isaac’s room all squared away,” he says as he waves her off. “so go on.  Don’t you worry about me none.”

He sees the hesitancy in her eyes, but after a moment or two, she relents. “Alright.” Turning to head into the dining room, she sets the kit down on the table and heads for the stairs.

***

Eliza finishes freshening up Isaac's room and putting her things in the guest room. Coming down the stairs, she hears talking and she tunes into what is going on.

"...Yeah, I'm fine. Abigail probably exaggerated everything. Remember, she's a pediatric nurse, so her perspective is kids all day. I ain't no kid." Arthur then laughs and coughs for a minute. "...Oh, shut up, John. It sounds worse than it is, really...Now I sound like you...It's a joke, Marston!..." He sighs while listening to whatever John is saying. Peeking around the wall that supports the stairs, she sees Arthur sitting on the couch, his legs propped up on his coffee table. And as Eliza gets a good look at his face, Arthur’s jovial expression changes to a sobering one. "Me too, John. Me too...Yeah, she's...she's here, too."

Eliza freezes and steps back up the stairs. He's talking about her.

He pauses to hear John speak and in his reply, his tone has a tinge of embarrassment. "It ain't like that...she's just makin’ shoah that I stay out of trouble...oh that? Well, that's over...Yes, John, for good this time. Yeah. It took me long enough, don't rub it in...I have to cut ties with her. We've gone different ways..."

Eliza's heart plummets to the depths of her chest. Cut ties? Her mind swirls with conflicting emotions and confusion. Will he sever their connection once he's fully recovered? What course of action should she take? All she is certain of is her unwavering love for him, a tether that cannot be easily broken or abandoned. She can’t just cut ties. One can't close a vein to the heart.

And a sinking feeling fills her gut, guilt for eavesdropping on his conversation. Hope it to save him some semblance of privacy, she decides to make herself known by stepping down the stairs loudly. She walks past the dining room table and across the way into the living room. Arthur, now clean and in a nice shirt and jeans, looks up from the couch, sees her, and smiles.

"Hey, Eliza,” he points to the phone at his ear. “It’s John."

She waves. "Hi, John."

"She says 'hi.'...He says hello."

Eliza's lips curve up into a bright smile as she gracefully sinks into the plush armchair, crossing her legs in her signature relaxed posture. She exudes an air of ease and comfort, always finding a way to make herself at home no matter where she is.

Arthur nods as his attention turns back to his phone call with John. "Yeah, I'll let you go. We'll see you when you get off tour, right?...Sounds good. Bye, brother." He hangs up and looks at his watch. His eyes are cast down to the oxygen tube running from his nose down to the oxygen tank that sits beside him. He sighs, letting some of his frustration escape. "When do I get to take this oxygen off?"

"In an hour," Eliza answers matter-of-factly.

Arthur looks at her, impressed. "You didn't have to look at a clock to know that, did you?"

"Working in the food industry and administering cancer treatment does that to you."

Arthur chuckles softly, nodding his head knowingly. "I guess…” Then he clicks his tongue, suddenly remembering what he had set out to do in the kitchen. “That water you wanted is on the counter. It's been there a while, though, and may not be as cold as it would have been comin’ right from the well."

Eliza shrugs her shoulders. The water has always been cold at Arthur’s. Too cold for her teeth and too cold at first when she’s used the shower. "Oh, that's fine. I had forgotten about it." She unfolds her legs and gets out of the chair. Arthur can’t control himself as he eyes her graceful steps toward the kitchen, her hips swaying. He coughs and feels the kink in his neck for turning too harshly.

Eliza’s feet pad softly on the kitchen floor, the tile cool under her. She takes the glass off the counter and drinks it slowly until it is all gone. Crisp, fresh, just like the water in the city. She sets the glass down in the sink and returns to the living room, sitting back down in her favored chair.

"How does it feel to be home?" she asks, attempting to start up a normal conversation, despite her mind lingering on the words Arthur had shared with John. 

He leans deeper into the couch, relaxing more. "It feels good. I've never liked hospitals."

She chuckles to herself, tucking her chin. "I know."

"I got a text from my friend Charles. He's doin’ good."

Eliza knows that is a big comfort to Arthur, as he had been concerned for his friend for the entire duration of his hospital stay. "That's good."

"Yeah. I'm glad he didn't get as bad as me. You know, he didn't hesitate to go after Micah? And he has been a warden for not even a year yet. He's a man you'd want in your corner."

Eliza has thought about that. Many times. If she ever gets the chance to meet him, she wants to thank him in person. God knows that Arthur needs people in his life that he can trust. "He sounds really brave."

"More than brave. It's like he has no bit of fear in his body.” At his words, he bows his head, slapping his hands together in his lap. “ I wish I could be like that."

As though running into a burning forest was cowardice. Eliza has always known that Arthur is his worst enemy, always quick to deprecate himself or refuse a compliment. If she could change one thing about him, it would be his own self-awareness, she has always desired for him to recognize his own value. She leans forward in her chair, her eyes looking at him with a purposeful gaze. “You are, Arthur. Sometimes fear can warn us before we do something reckless."

"...I guess."

Well, that’s better than flat-out denial. 

Eliza exhales slowly and turns to look out the window in the adjacent wall as she mindlessly plays with her hair. The view, even from where she sits, is beautiful. The trees are tall and full, secluding them completely in the wilderness. While others would find it suffocating, she finds it comforting. When she worked as a waitress, she had to be seen, be called out to, full exposure so she could be ready to assist and direct those who worked her shift. But here, there’s none of that; just the silence, the trees, and a large piece of sky. 

And as though reading her thoughts, Arthur asks, "How does it feel to be back here? It's been a while.” He waits for an answer as he takes a sip of his drink.

"It's...different. The last time I was here was when Isaac was four."

Her answer surprises Arthur and his eyes widen in surprise. Has it really been that long? "What?"

Isaac has been over here long since, but with everything at her job and trying to keep up with life, she didn’t find it in her to re-enter that part of her and Arthur’s relationship. This house is a stark reminder of what had been lost between them. And yet, as she sits in the chair, tucking her legs further beneath her, she can’t help but feel a sense of nostalgia wash over her. This new arrangement, this unfamiliar territory, seemed out of place in their once-perfect world. "Yeah."

"Hell, really? Wow."

"Mmmhm. You pretty much came to our house most of the time."

Arthur nods, knowing that was when Isaac’s cancer journey began, the tumor growing inside him and none of them knew. "You're right."

The silence hung heavy in the air between them, both lost in their own thoughts. Suddenly, Eliza's restless energy breaks through as she leaps out of her chair with a sense of urgency. "Isaac and the rest will be here soon," she announced, already making her way towards the kitchen. "I should prepare something for dinner." The sound of her footsteps echo off the hardwood floor and once she enters the kitchen, the clanging of pots and pans begin to create a symphony in the bustling kitchen as she moves about. The anticipation of Isaac, Bessie, and Hosea’s arrival adds an extra spark to her movements as she begins to peruse Arthur’s wares.

He motions to rise, the action taking longer than it normally would. "You don't have to do that. I can order something in."

She starts searching his fridge. "No, I want to." Reaching inside, she grabs a bell pepper and some tomatoes, setting them on the counter. Not taking a moment to pause, she goes to the freezer and looks through it, finding some frozen, chopped organic chicken.

"Well, I guess you're making yourself at home," Arthur says with a hint of sarcasm.

Eliza's tone doesn't change from plain and focused, completely undeterred from her task. "I know my way around a kitchen."

"I won't argue with you on that," he finishes rising from the couch and begins to make his way over. "Can I help?"

She doesn't seem to have heard him as she continues rummaging through his spice cabinet. "Do you happen to have any cumin?"

"On the middle shelf, on the left,” he answers, and she grabs it along with garlic and onion powder. Arthur makes his way past the counter, dragging his oxygen behind him, just as she grabs a cast iron pan that is hanging on a metal rack. "What're you makin’?"

"Chicken tacos."

His stomach nearly growls at the proposition, the promise of spices and flavors being anything better than the bland hospital food. "Sounds tasty. Can I help?"

She quickly glances at him, offering a soft smile. "I've got it, Arthur, thank you." When he doesn’t move, she gently shoos him away. "You go on and relax for a little bit."

A sudden sense of distance between them causes his brow to furrow in confusion. What has caused this change in her? He can feel the space growing wider and wider, like a river widening into an ocean. "Eliza?" His voice is tinged with concern and a hint of fear, as if he might lose her in this vast expanse that now separates them.

She turns away again. "Where are your cutting boards?" She’s deflecting. Or something. He doesn’t know all the terminology, but she is clearly up to something. Or nothing.

"In the bottom cupboard by the sink…” he answers, then he takes a tentative step forward. “Eliza?"

She looks back at him again, nearly snapping at him. "What?"

"What's wrong?"

She remains still for a moment, her eyes searching his face. She wants to be open, but, as usual, fear gets in her way. She looks away and bends down to pick out a cutting board. "Nothing."

"Are you sure?"

She takes a moment to collect her thoughts, her hands resting on the edge of the kitchen counter. With a heavy exhale, she sets down the cutting board and rubs her tired eyes. "I'm just tired, I guess," she admits with a weary tone, her shoulders slumping.

Letting go of the handle to his oxygen cart, he offers a hand. "Then let me help you. Please? I need to do somethin’ other than sit on the couch. We can do it together."

Eliza hesitates for a moment. It is wrong for her to be doing this to him. She promised she wouldn't let her anger cloud her love for him and this is the closest they have been in weeks. Months. After a moment of cognitive dissonance, she finally relents. "Okay." And she turns to put the rinsed chicken in the cast iron pan with some olive oil.

Arthur smiles, sighing softly. "Thank you. I know how you get when you're in the kitchen."

She looks up from the sizzling chicken, still tossing it with a wooden spoon. "How I get?" she asks with a raised brow.

He comes behind her, and her heart races at his proximity. She’s been wrestling with her emotions for days and now that they are together, here, in his house, alone, she’s coming face to face with each and every thought, worry, and musing about where they are and where she wants to go. He acts like he doesn’t notice how his torso gently presses against her back as he reaches into a nearby drawer, pulling out a knife. "Well, yeah. You've always been territorial."

She scoffs, trying to take her mind off the heat of his body. "I'm not that bad."

His warm, gravelly chuckle nearly makes her jump and when he finally moves away from her, she feels a sharp ache from his absence. "Yes, you are." He turns away and, reaching the other counter, he begins to cut the bell pepper into thin slices.

She looks over her shoulder at him for a minute. The slump of his shoulders is evident, despite his upbeat attitude. His movements are slower than normal, and she hears him take a deeper breath. She eyes the oxygen tubes that wrap behind and over his ears and into his nose. His eyes are still a little red from irritated sinuses, but thankfully, the doctor said that should clear up once he’s been exposed to the clear air up here. All in all, he looks pathetic to her, precious even.

She finds herself setting down the wooden spoon and turning the heat down just a tad, her eyes never leaving his weakened form. In a moment of vulnerability, she comes behind him and, without saying a word, wraps her arms around his waist. This startles him, but he soon relaxes when he feels her head rest against his broad, muscular back. He knows he isn’t as strong as he was a few weeks ago, and can’t help but wonder if she can tell. He feels almost embarrassed, nearly speaking out loud a promise that he will get strong again, as though he needs to apologize. But he says nothing, and just sets his knife down, remaining still. 

Eliza closes her eyes and listens to him breathe. There is a little wheeze here and there, but she needs to remind herself that isn’t important. He’s alive. She's glad that he's alive. Tired from his wrestle with death, but still alive.

"Are you alright, Eliza?" Arthur asks once again, his voice laced with genuine concern.

He only feels her hold him tighter, her fingernails gently grazing his abdomen, and he feels goosebumps rise under his shirt. He maneuvers in the space between her and the counter, making sure he doesn't get tangled up in the oxygen tubes. Accommodating his movements, Eliza loosens her grip and he makes the full turn to face her. He looks into her eyes and sees an ache inside their expression. Something is wrong and he wishes that she would just tell him.

But if he’s learned anything, it’s to be patient. 

Initially moving slowly, he wraps his arms around her and pulls her into his chest. She follows his pull, letting her ear rest above his heart. His heartbeat is steady, mighty, and she takes a deep breath. The room is silent but for the occasional sizzle of the cooking chicken and the wisp of the oxygen tank as it runs through a cycle.

Her body still holding tightly to Arthur, she lifts her head and leans back. Their eyes meet again. In their own hearts, they feel something. It’s undeniable, but neither is unsure of what to make of it. It’s different, but familiar all at the same time. Smiling gently, Arthur lifts his left hand to brush some hair gently away from Eliza’s face.

And it is then that she smiles, it is soft and warm, like a summer’s day, when the light cast its glow through a kaleidoscope of green. He feels himself bowing down toward her, his breath shaky from the rush now flooding through his heart. Surprisingly, she doesn't move away, but moves closer to him. Her heart pounds against her ribcage, anticipating something she has wanted for a while, but has been too afraid to act on.

But then, breaking the spell, is a knock on the door.

Eliza quickly, but gently, pushes herself away from him, clearing her throat. "That's probably them."

Arthur exhales, blinking quickly, as he takes a gentle step back. “Yeah.” As quick as he can muster, he turns back around to cut vegetables. Stepping around his oxygen tank, Eliza goes to answer the door.

As she leaves the kitchen and enters the living room, she can hear the voices behind the wooden door, buzzing with anticipated excitement. Little do they know what almost happened just on the other side. Steeling herself with a casual smile, she reaches for the doorknob and opens the door. 

"Mommy!" Isaac runs into her and wraps his arms around her hips. "Did you miss me? I missed you!"

She combs through his short hair with her fingers. She can’t help but smile, the subtle change being a sign of hope. “Of course, I did, baby." Gently prying his arms from her hips, she takes a step back and to the side. "Guess who's also here?"

Isaac looks past her and sees his hero, his daddy, who has left the counter and stepped into the living room. Arthur attempts to squat down, masking his struggle as his legs shake, and he extends his arms. Isaac gasps excitedly and makes the motion to rush towards him, but upon seeing the oxygen tank and the tubes, Isaac hesitates, his shoes squeaking on the wood floor.

Arthur gives him a reassuring smile. "It's okay, partner. I won't be usin’ oxygen forever."

"So, it's not cancer, Dad?"

Arthur's heart aches at his son's question, but he keeps the smile on his face. "No, son. I promise you it ain’t cancer." Isaac’s smile returns and he runs into his father's arms. Arthur holds him tight, managing to keep his balance. “I missed your tight hugs, Partner,” Arthur sighs. 

Eliza steps further aside from the door as Hosea and Bessie come in, carrying with them Isaac’s belongings.

"Well look at that," says Hosea as he lovingly spectates the reunion. "Now that's a beautiful sight if I ever did see one."

Arthur looks up and sees his parents, who set down Isaac's things in the family room. Letting go of his son, he slowly rises to a standing position with a soft grunt. "Hi, Dad. Hi, Mom."

"Hello, son," Bessie beams. "It's so good to see you home again."

Arthur looks at Eliza, who makes her way back to the kitchen to continue cooking dinner. As she brushes past him, their eyes lock for a moment, a sudden jolt going through him, reminding him of what could have happened if they weren't interrupted. Even though he still hasn't fully recovered, his heart and body don't seem to care.

"I'm glad to be home too, Mama."

***

August. A month has passed since Arthur returned home from the hospital. One would never have guessed that he was even there, for he has received the best care that he could possibly get. As he got back on his feet, Eliza remained by his side, making sure he ate well and got his rest. Isaac has relished in walking with him every day and has since learned how to help turn his oxygen off and on. But now, the oxygen tank sits retired in the corner of the living room, untouched for the past week. Eliza will take it back to the hospital when Isaac has his next checkup. 

And so, after sticking to a routine and getting much-needed rest, Arthur has now made a full recovery, thrilling the doctors and nurses who witnessed his ordeal at the hospital. Defying the odds, Arthur Morgan is alive and is doing well. Once he gets clearance from HR, he will be going back to work before too long. Perhaps, within the next week or so.

The warm afternoon sun bathes the backyard, casting a golden glow over the small gathering at the Matthews’ residence. Laughter and chatter float through the air as the group sits down for a meal out on the back deck, their first get-together in a long while. 

Eliza isn’t sure how she feels about it, as she knows that means things will be returning back to the way they were. She still hasn't found a job, yet. It isn't for a lack of trying, but she has also been busy helping Arthur and treating their son. She only has had two interviews. They were both for well-paying positions at restaurants, but she later discovered that the owners also knew Mr. Bronte. Enough said.

Arthur suggested she try a different avenue, and not willing to shut down an idea, she has now been applying at schools, the courthouse, and daycares. Hopefully, she will get a bite.

“Pass me the salad, won’t you, hon?” Bessie asks Eliza, interrupting her thoughts. 

Eliza blinks, picking up the salad bowl in front of her. “Oh. Sure. Sorry.”

John is finally back from tour, and everyone has been enjoying his stories of funny encounters and his experiences.

“A fan tried to climb up on stage before a guard got to ‘em,” John recalls while laughing. “They had Javier’s face on their t-shirt. Thinkin’ they’re his number one fan.” 

“And what, you don’t have fans?” Arthur jests. “Maybe you look too nice with that baby face of yours.” He chuckles to himself as he brings his glass of iced tea to his lips. “Could look pretty pathetic on a t-shirt.”

John points to his whiskers and one wrinkle on his brow. “Baby face?” 

Arthur sets his glass down. “You’re twenty-seven. You ain’t seen things that I’ve seen.”

John scowls, but the twinkle in his eyes belies his irritation. “That still doesn’t make me a baby.”

“What’s your favorite part of being in a band?” Eliza asks, changing the course of the conversation, while simultaneously re-entering it. At her words, Arthur’s gaze turns to her and she feels a coldness flood her body, and her stomach flutters. With her own feelings scaring her, she quickly looks back at John.

John turns to her and grins, happy to answer her question. “The thrill of the fans. Never thought that we’d get this sort of attention.” 

"Oh I'm sure the girls were throwing themselves at you," Abigail teases, but everyone knows she isn't joking.

"I didn't notice at all, darlin,'" John answers, leaning to his right and kissing her on the cheek. “You know you’re the only girl for me. Doesn’t that ring of yours prove that?”

She can’t argue with that. Being married for the past six years, while having their moments, have been more good than bad. John can be a pain in the neck sometimes, but at the end of the day, she’d choose him. Every time. She lifts her hands from her slightly round belly and slaps him playfully on the shoulder. "Oh, you," she stammers.

Hosea leans forward, raising his glass of root beer in hand. "Good answer, John." John meets him halfway and they clink glasses. 

“Oh!” Jack gasps, picking up his cup and turning to Isaac. “Clink my glass, Isaac!”

The room is soon filled with laughter, as everyone else joins in on the cheering of glasses. Amongst the laughter and relative joy that soaks the air, in the pauses and moments where his attention isn’t on the group, there is a pressing feeling in Arthur’s chest. A warmth, a little fire that seems to grow larger and larger.

It started that afternoon, in the kitchen, when Eliza wordlessly wrapped her arms around him. It was as though wind blew against coals and embers threatening to die out. It was as though wind blew against coals and embers threatening to die out, causing them to come to life again.

He watches the spectacle of smiles and sparkling eyes of his family, finally falling on the face of the person who has occupied his thoughts the most.

And she looks. It is soft and subtle, but the amber brown in her eyes looks almost golden, like the flickering flame in his chest burning stronger and stronger.

And unlike the forest fires he’s battled, he dare not put it out. 

***

As the sun begins its descent, casting a golden hue over the gathering, everyone continues to enjoy the socialization inside the house. As everyone relaxes in the family room, Abigail stands by John's side, her hand resting gently on her growing belly, a testament to the new life about to enter their world.

Eliza knows that the time is getting late and folks will be winding down soon and departing, so she decides that this is the moment to approach Abigail, with a medium-sized gift bag in her hand.

“Abigail,” Eliza begins after waiting for a moment to politely cut into her conversation with Bessie. “I meant to wait until your baby shower, but I couldn’t help myself.”

Abigail smiles, taking the gift bag. “Thank you, Eliza. I will never turn down a gift.”

Eliza tucks her chin. “You haven’t seen it, yet.”

“Don’t be crazy,” Abigail chuckles. “I like everything you’ve given me.” She takes a moment to remove the bright pastel-colored tissue paper and reaches a hand inside. In her hand, she brings out a beautifully crocheted baby slipper. “Oh…!” she gasps and those around her pause their conversations. “This is beautiful…!” The intricate stitches bear witness to Eliza's talent and the love that she had poured into each loop.

"I made the booties and blanket for your little one," Eliza murmurs, her voice filled with affection and warmth. "I hope it brings them comfort and happiness."

Tears well in Abigail's eyes as she admires the gift, her voice trembling with emotion. "Thank you, Eliza. It's all absolutely beautiful. You always have a way of making everything more special." She gently tucks the blanket back in the bag and opens her arms. “Thank you.”

They embrace and those in the room are touched by the moment.

Seeing the joy all around him, Arthur can feel the weight on his chest lifting, replaced by a sense of contentment. The new treatment for Isaac has been working wonders, and for the first time in what feels like an eternity, he and Eliza can relax, if only for a fleeting moment.

He’s always preferred to be in the background, always content to just lean back and observe. He’s never liked a lot of eyes on him, and has found that one can learn a lot more from people by observation than conversation. 

But he isn’t the only one who has come to that conclusion. Hosea, while being a quick-tongued extrovert, his keen eyes for observation have granted him access to information that both Eliza and Arthur have kept hidden. 

Throughout the evening, the conversation has ebbed and flowed as the adults sip their drinks and share stories. Isaac happily plays with Jack and Copper, his radiant smile a testament to his resilience. Yet, amidst the laughter and celebration, there is an undeniable tension between Arthur and Eliza.

Their eyes met from across the backyard, locked in a silent dance of longing and uncertainty. Every stolen glance was like a blinking billboard in Hosea’s examination. They have been skirting around their feelings for far too long, afraid to acknowledge the deep connection they share. But now, with Isaac's slow recovery as a bittersweet reminder of life's fragile beauty, the time for hesitation is running out.

Hosea watches his son lean against the wall, watching the gathering move about without him. Arthur can't tear his gaze away from Eliza. Her eyes sparkle with newfound vivacity, and her gentle touch as she has tended to Isaac throughout the evening ignites a fire deep within him. He yearns to speak the words he has suppressed for so long, to share his fears, hopes, and little victories alongside her. Yet, the very thought of baring his soul to her makes his heart race and his palms sweat.

Bessie finds her way over to her husband while he stands in the doorway with a glass in his hand. A gentle touch of her hand on his arm, he turns to look at her. “You see it, too?” she asks softly. 

He only answers with a look and she grins. 

She grabs his arm with both hands, leaning in close. “I can’t take it anymore. They’ve been like tortured souls all evening.”

“I know.” He pats her hands. “Let’s go talk to him.”

They move across the room, passing by their playful grandson, and approach Arthur. Their son’s eyes finally leave his interest to see them walking towards him. He grins. “Hey, Mama. Hey, Dad.”

Hosea clears his throat and gestures towards the kitchen with a tilt of his head. “Got something I need your help with.”

Arthur steps away from the wall. “Shoah, what is it?”

Hosea motions for him to follow. “Come on.” And he leads his wife with him towards the kitchen. Arthur follows behind, catching Eliza’s eye as he leaves. 

Once the three of them enter the kitchen, Hosea and Bessie walk towards the furthest corner, near the hickory cabinets. Arthur notices their nonchalance, not in any hurry to do anything, as they just stand in place. “What’s goin’ on? Don’t you need some help with somethin’?”

“Oh, we do, son,” Hosea grins. “Help relieve us of your misery.”

Arthur pinches his brow, snorting. “My misery?”

“Yes,” Bessie answers. “It’s quite painful to watch you two.”

“Painful?” Arthur repeats. 

“Is there an echo in here, Arthur?” Hosea laughs.

Arthur shakes his head, crossing his arms. “I just ain’t shoah what you’re goin’ on about.”

But Hosea isn’t convinced. He nods his head, eyeing his son carefully. “I think you do.”

And Eliza’s laugh carries from the family room into the kitchen. At Arthur’s macro reaction, Hosea and Bessie give each other a knowing look. 

"Why don't you two take some time for yourselves?" Hosea suggests with a sly smile, stepping forward and resting a firm hand on his son’s shoulder. "Bessie and I would be more than happy to keep young Isaac entertained at our place."

Arthur meets Hosea’s eyes, studying him for a moment. It doesn’t take a genius to know what he means. Arthur blushes and tucks his chin, his rugged facade momentarily softened by vulnerability. "Dad..." he chuckles bashfully. 

Bessie smiles, her eyes sparkling with maternal warmth. "Just say yes, honey. Sometimes, all it takes is a little push to set things right." She leans into her husband lovingly. “Take it from a couple of old lovebirds like us.”

Arthur wants to, oh, he wants to, but this isn’t the same thing as taking a bullet for a comrade, or taking down a poacher. This is personal, something that requires vulnerability. He has been letting his walls come down. Bit by bit, but a clear confession opens all of it, crumbles the walls into rubble and ash. 

Is he ready for it?

As though knowing the questions reeling in his mind, Hosea gives Arthur’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Stop torturing yourself, Arthur, and enjoy your life for once.” And he shoves him toward the family room. 

“I’ll have to talk to Isaac first.”

“If you must,” Hosea sighs humorously. “Though I have a feeling it won’t take much to convince that boy to stay with us.”

Arthur grins sheepishly, turning towards the entryway leading out to the family room. The chatter grows louder and his heartbeat seems to heavily match its volume. 

Talking to Isaac will be easy. But Eliza? What will he say? How can he make it sound nonchalant without it being awkward? Start off with, “Hey, Eliza, wanna be alone at my place?” Wiggle his brow like a cocky college boy?

No. Not like that. But he’s never been great with words, anyway. 

Well, here goes nothing. 

Returning to the living room, he spots his son still playing with Jack on the floor, a new board game laid out before them. Candy Land, by the looks of it. 

“I wish the candy in the board was real,” Jack sighs as he moves his red gingerbread pawn. “Especially the frosting.”

Isaac shrugs his shoulders. “It wouldn’t matter. I can’t really have any candy, anyway.”

Jack’s eyes widen, never being privy to this information. “At all?”

Isaac shakes his head. “Nope. But it’s okay, Mom makes me yummy treats that taste about the same.”

Arthur smiles. Isaac is such a good kid, hardly ever one to complain. Feeling it appropriate now to interrupt, he squats down beside his son. “Hey, partner.”

Isaac smiles as his eyes remain on the board. “Hey, Daddy.”

“I’ve got a proposition for you.”

Isaac grins. “So do I.”

“What?”

Isaac’s eyes brighten and he grins from ear to ear. “You wanna play Candy Land with us? We just started and you can go next!”

Arthur chuckles and messes with Isaac’s hair. “You know board games ain’t my kind of thing, kiddo. I like cards.”

Jack grabs a handful of the cards from the board, holding them up. “It’s got cards, Uncle Arthur!”

Isaac giggles and lifts his head to look up, but his eyes don’t meet Arthur’s. “Oh, hi Mom.”

Arthur feels himself grow tense and he quickly makes the motion to rise to a standing position, clearing his throat. 

He’s now face to face with Eliza, the closest they’ve been in proximity to each other all evening. 

“Arthur,” she says softly, her brown doe-like eyes blinking once. “I think we should go. I’m rather tired, and Isaac isn’t used to being up past nine.”

Isaac frowns as he regards his parents. “Oh, Mom. Do we have to go?”

This is it. This is the perfect opportunity without adding more risk.

Arthur clears his throat. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea.”

Eliza blinks, her brow pinched. “What?”

Arthur turns to her, trying his best to be as casual as possible. “Why don’t he stay here for the night? Dad and Mom won’t mind.”

And cutting in, Bessie calls out as she and Hosea step into the living room. “We sure wouldn’t!” 

Isaac's face lights up at the idea, his earlier disappointment vanishing like mist in morning sunlight. "Really? Can I, Mom?" His voice is a mix of hope and excitement, tugging at Arthur's heartstrings.

Eliza looks between Isaac and Arthur, her lips pursed as she weighs her options. It's clear she's conflicted, her protective instinct battling with her desire to give Isaac this small joy. She sighs, a soft, almost inaudible sound that carries a world of weariness. "Alright," she finally concedes, her voice barely above a whisper. "But call me if he needs anything, or—”

Hosea nods his head. “We will, Eliza. Don’t worry. This isn’t our first rodeo.”

She knows he’s right. Over the past couple of months, they’ve helped immensely with Isaac. It’s just that she gets like this when she senses something is going on. It’s vibrant, chilling, but hot all at the same time.

She isn’t sure what it is, but somehow she knows it isn’t dangerous.

Eliza sighs. “I know. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“The mama bear instinct never really dies, does it, El?” Abigail asks as she eases into a couch, hand over her belly.

Eliza chuckles. “Nope, it sure doesn’t.”

“It’s settled then. You two go on home, get some sleep, and come by for breakfast in the morning.” Hosea makes his way over to the floor where Jack and Isaac still kneel on the floor, and goes to his knees with a soft grunt. “I’m going to play a good game of Candy Cane Lane.”

Isaac chuckles. “It’s Candy Land, Grampie!”

Hosea feigns astonishment, eyes wide and mouth agape. “Oh, that’s right! How could I forget?” He ruffles Isaac’s hair, sharing a grin with the young boy. “You’re the expert, after all.” Isaac offers him a game piece and they ready themselves to resume the game, not before Hosea glances back up at Eliza and Arthur again. “Drive careful!”

Well, that’s that, then. Arthur looks at Eliza, swallowing thickly, before gesturing toward the door. “I guess we’re goin’?”

She shrugs, smiling softly. “It’s an eviction if I ever did see one.”

Her joke makes him smile and he makes his way to the door. As he reaches the doorknob, he turns to look over at John and Abigail. “See ya, John.”

John waves, not ready to leave his wife’s side just yet. “Be seein’ ya, brother.”

Arthur opens the door and gestures for Eliza to go first. “After you.”

She goes to tuck her hair behind her ear in an effort to hide the blush from her cheek as she quickly slips by him and steps out onto the porch. Hearing the door close behind her, it adds a strange finality to the situation.

The night air is brisk, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the house they just left. Eliza wraps her arms around herself, rubbing them for warmth as they descend the wooden steps. Arthur follows close behind, his presence a reassuring solidity in the cool darkness.

As they walk side by side down the gravel driveway, Arthur’s ‘91 GMC Sierra comes into view. He’s had that old truck for years and he still takes pride in that thing. Eliza remembers the rides they took in it when they were first together. Arthur was quite the charmer back then, always finding an excuse to drive her somewhere, anywhere, just so they could spend a bit more time together. It feels like a lifetime ago now, especially with everything that's going on.

He unlocks the door and holds it open for her, who climbs in with a quiet thanks. The world outside is silent for a moment in the shell of the cab and she watches Arthur as he walks around the front of the truck and reaches the driver’s side.

He climbs in, closes the door with a gentle click, and wordlessly starts the engine.

After waiting a minute or two to let the engine warm up, he puts it in reverse, backs up, makes a three-point turn to navigate around John’s car, and drives down the driveway and eventually onto the main road.

Inside the truck, the world seems to slow down, each moment stretching infinitely, capturing the wild heartbeat of anticipation. No words pass between them, but their eyes met briefly in a passionate glance. The weight of their unspoken emotions hangs heavy in the air, crackling with electricity. Arthur's hands tremble slightly on the steering wheel, while Eliza's ears flush an enchanting shade of crimson.

She turns to glance out the window, trying to focus her thoughts on the twinkling sky full of stars and wonders. But no matter how beautiful or awe-inspiring they appear, her thoughts keep wandering back to him. She felt like every time he glanced her way, she couldn’t breathe. What is wrong with her? Things have been going so well. Why ruin it now, when things have never been better?

Arthur breaks the silence first, his voice low and gravelly with emotion. "You cold?" he asks, not taking his eyes off the road.

Eliza shakes her head, though the shiver that runs through her is less about the cold and more about the storm of feelings swirling inside her. "I'm okay," she answers, still resisting the urge to look at him.

“You shoah?” he presses, his voice still hinting at the gravel tones that have altered his vocal cords. “I know that you don’t like the cold.”

She finally turns to look at him and as their eyes meet, even in the darkness of the cab, she feels that jolt that nearly renders her breathless again. “I’m fine,” she manages to say. “Really.”

The soft, blue glow from the truck’s stereo fights against the shadows cast on his face, and she can see him smile. “Alright.”

Unbeknownst to either of them, their hearts beat in synchrony, yearning for the moment when their souls will intertwine and finally surrender to the depth of their affection.

***

As they sit on the front porch of his house, a gentle breeze rustles through the leaves of the surrounding trees, carrying the faint scent of pine. The sounds of crickets and owls meld into a tranquil symphony, setting a peaceful backdrop. They're both silent, each lost in their own thoughts, the earlier tension now replaced by a comfortable quietude. The porch light casts a warm glow on the wooden steps where they sit, side by side yet not quite touching. Eliza sips her tea quietly as she stares into the sky like an astrophile. It’s the only thing that she can manage to do, lest she say or do something dumb.

Neither of them are too nervous to go inside. With Isaac around, it has been easy to keep themselves in check, their conversations light and focusing only on immediate things. But still, they’ve grown comfortable with each other, only now, there won’t be a reason to live this way much longer.

Arthur can’t help but steal glances at Eliza, who radiates beauty and grace in the evening light. Her eyes sparkle with a mixture of tenderness and affection, mirroring the love that has bloomed within his own heart.

Really, they have been through so much together, navigating the treacherous depths of dark secrets and danger. But amidst the chaos, a flickering flame of love has ignited between them, growing into an unbreakable bond.

And now, seeing her, like this, couldn’t be a more perfect time. He swallows thickly and licks his lips, preparing to say something, anything, to get a conversation going in the direction it needs to.

But Eliza speaks first, turning her head to meet his eyes. "It's getting late.” And her words, so casual but still so surprising, break the silence. "I think I ought to turn in, I go back to my place tomorrow."

"Oh, okay,"

Arthur's voice is laced with a hint of hesitation as he replies, his eyes following her every move. She slowly stands from the step, her lithe figure moving gracefully as she enters the house. The screen door creaks open and then gently closes behind her, allowing the sounds of nature to once again fill the air. He turns back ahead, eyeing the tight grip in his clasped hands. "Tell her, you fool," Arthur says under his breath. "Tell her you love her."

He can’t bring himself to move just yet, but the urge is strong.

The evening air caresses his skin with a chill, urging him to make a decision before it's too late. With each passing moment, the weight of his unspoken words grows heavier. He pushes himself off the steps with a determined grunt and heads towards the door that Eliza had disappeared through moments ago.

As he reaches for the door, he notices how dark it is inside. She’s not in the living room or the kitchen. She’s really gone to bed.

He enters the house, letting the door close softly behind him.

As Eliza settles into the guest bedroom, Arthur can't help but feel a longing tug at his heart. He knows what he needs to do, and he can't let it go on like this anymore. He has recovered and he knows that she is going to leave and he may never have this chance again.

He reaches the bottom of the stairs that lead to the bedrooms. His breath is shaky, his heart pounding in his chest. He wants to move, but his legs feel as heavy as lead. After a few more moments that feel like hours, he brings his right foot on the front step and begins climbing, one foot at a time.

Reaching the top of the stairs, he looks down the hall and sees a little light coming from the guest room, the door cracked open just a hair.

The upstairs hallway seems endlessly long tonight, each step reverberating like a silent drum in his ears. He pauses at her door, his hand hovering over the knob. He can hear the soft, even breaths of Eliza sleeping inside, and it calms him just as much as his legs feel as heavy as lead. The upstairs hallway seems endlessly long tonight, each step reverberating like a silent drum in his ears. He pauses at her door, his hand hovering over the knob.

Letting out a slow breath, he silently enters the room, his footsteps barely making a sound on the weathered wooden floor. His eyes go to the bed, but she isn’t there.

He finds her standing by the window, her eyes fixed on the moon-kissed landscape. She looks beautiful, almost iridescent with the moonlight touching her bare skin. Her silk pajamas fall perfectly on her body, her chestnut curls resting softly against her shoulders and down her back, putting Venus de Milo to shame.

"Eliza," he calls softly, so as not to startle her. Slowly, she turns to him, her eyes filled with a mix of vulnerability and hope.

He opens his mouth to speak, but the words become lodged in his throat, choking him. In front of him stands a woman who has left him utterly speechless, her beauty and grace rendering him dumbstruck. He feels like a bumbling fool, incapable of forming coherent thoughts or words in her presence. The weight of his desire and admiration for her hangs heavy in the air, suffocating any attempt at speech.

But she knows just what to say.

"Stay with me," she whispers, her voice barely audible amidst the stillness. It is a plea, an unspoken invitation to bridge the gap between them, louder than any command that could ever be spoken.

And miraculously, his tongue finds the ability to speak one word.

"Absolutely," he sighs and goes to her.

He feels his heart race as he takes her in his arms. His gaze meets hers, and in that moment, the world around seems to fade into insignificance. Eliza places her hands on each side of his face and slowly her fingers travel gently down his neck. As she stops at his chest, she can feel his defined pectoral muscles underneath his shirt, and the pounding of his heart.

Without uttering a single word, they understand each other's unspoken desires, and the weight of their unacknowledged love lay heavy in the air. Tenderly, but hungrily, his lips meet hers, igniting a spark that had been smoldering for far too long. Her lips are so soft, better than he remembers, and he lets out a deep sigh.

Her response is immediate and equally fervent, her arms wrapping around his broad shoulders, pulling him closer. They stumble back against the cool glass of the window, the night air doing nothing to quell the heat that builds between them. It's a kiss born of years of withheld words and stifled feelings, a cascade of everything felt and unspoken crashing down like a wave.

As they part, he finally finds the words that he’s needed to say.

"I love you," Arthur rumbles, his voice filled with a mixture of relief and tenderness. He pulls back enough to meet her eyes as they hold a vulnerability that mirrors Eliza's own.

She comes out of her haze long enough to let a soft smile stretch across her face, her eyes watering. Her heart sighs and pounds at the same time, as his hands gently touch the skin of her back under her blouse.

"I love you. I have always loved you," she murmurs, her voice brimming with uncontainable emotion. And not letting the moment ebb away, he quickly kisses her again. At that moment, it is as if the weight of the world has been lifted from their wary souls, and all that matters is the unbreakable bond between them.

His hands travel up her back, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He wants to study her, to refresh his memory, without the need to be rushed despite the hunger and desire.

“Arthur,” she sighs, and it is all he has within him to resist not ripping her clothes off her body.

Instead, his hands move to scoop her up into his arms, and he carries her to the bed, the bedcovers already pulled back.

He lays her down gently, and she grips his strong forearms, feeling their sturdiness. Her brow pinches as her chest rises and falls, her breasts peaking through her silk top. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

“No,” he answers, his voice a low drawl that seems to make her worries fall away. The softness in his marine-colored eyes holds promises no words could ever capture. He bends down, brushing a kiss on her forehead, one that speaks of protection and permanence. She tilts her head up, meeting him in the middle and they kiss again. Softly and tenderly, her mouth relents to his tongue and teeth, each caress deepening the ache of long years apart. His hand finds hers, fingers intertwining as if binding their souls together with the simplest of gestures.

The glow of the lamp almost feels like an intrusion, and rising slightly, Arthur reaches over to turn it off. Eliza brings her hand up to his abdomen, slipping her hand underneath the gape of his shirt. She’s missed the feel of him, the warmth of his skin against hers, and as he looks back at her, he can see her blown pupils and plump lips.

The room dims to a soft shadow, emphasizing the contours of their bodies as they draw near one other in the quiet darkness. Arthur's breath hitches slightly as he feels Eliza's fingers tracing the lines of his muscles, a map she knows all too well despite the years that have intervened.

His lips part from hers as he leans away from her. He takes the hem of his shirt and pulls it off of his body and she watches him with adoring eyes.

Arthur’s chest, now bare, reflects the faint moonlight filtering through the window. His skin is a canvas of silver and shadows, muscles undulating with each breath. Eliza reaches up again, her hand tracing the landscape of his scars and sinews. He catches her wrist gently, lowering her arm back down. They both have their own scars to bear, but that isn’t why they are here.

Carefully, gently, Arthur brings his hands back to her, taking the bottom of her silk top in his fingers. She sits up and together, they remove her of it, its fabric slipping off her body like water.

He takes a moment to look at her. Her skin. Oh, there are so many words to describe her. Soft, inviting, warm, velvet, satin. The milk-white of her skin, the shape of her breasts. The dip in her collarbone. All things he’s loved. All things that act as merely a shell of what she is deep inside. If a star could ever be embodied, if devotion could ever have a face, it would be hers.

She sees the way he looks at her. Not of sheer lust, but of adoration. Love. That’s what this is. As his eyes meet hers again, she pulls him back, reminding him of the task at hand.

They work together, as though in a dance, to remove the remaining confines of their clothes, letting nothing but the sounds of their breath and heartbeats reverberate in the room.

As they embrace, their bodies press against each other with a need that words could never capture. Every touch ignites a fiery longing within them, drawing them closer as they lose themselves in the moment. Time seems to slow down as they explore the depths of their shared desire, their movements fluid and synchronized like a beautifully choreographed dance. Each touch and caress is like a note in a symphony of surrender, building towards an ultimate crescendo of pleasure and release.

***

The silvery moonbeams cascade down upon them, enveloping them in a soft glow as their bodies lay intertwined, tangled in a passionate embrace. With each breath, the barriers that had once held their hearts captive crumble into a million pieces, freeing them from the burdens of the past.

Their skin glistens with a light sheen of sweat, flushed and alive with desire. In this quiet sanctuary of their own making, they have finally found each other. Eliza, with her head resting peacefully on Arthur's chest, feels safe and content in the arms of the one she has always loved. And for Arthur, holding her close is like holding onto a precious treasure that he never knew he had until now. With the moon as their witness, they are two souls entwined in perfect harmony.

He listens to her as she sleeps, her body finally at rest. It’s the most content he has ever seen her, and a quiet sense of fulfillment settles in his heart.

He knows that good moments don’t last forever, he’s learned that the hard way, but he will relish in it now. He will soak it in, drench himself in the wave of emotions, and relive it in his dreams over and over again.

As the hours travel on, the pale light of a new dawn teases out shadows from the corners of the room. Arthur watches them dance upon the walls, his mind a tumult of thoughts and emotions. Despite the serenity painted across Eliza's face, he knows that outside their sanctuary, reality waits for them.

What could it possibly be?

At least for now, he can leave it all outside, and hold his everything close to his heart.

Thank you so much for reading! Any feedback is always appreciated. :)

Tag Requests:

@photo1030 @cassietrn

[yourmomsgranddad]

— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃

— CHAPTER ONE: No rules in unbreakable heaven

— SUMMARY: You and Kate are best friends and you think nothing can tear you apart. Until something does.

— WARNINGS: kind of short but future chapters will be longer

"Kate?"

"Yes, Y/n?"

"Can you promise me something?"

You and Kate were laying on your roof, just staring at the stars. This was the last day of summer before the two of you entered high school. And you both were scared out of your mind.

You didn't know what was going to happen to you.

"Anything."

"Can you promise me that we'll always be friends? Even when we're old and wrinkly and forgetful?"

Kate left a little bit of silence, just causing your unease to flutter around your brain. "Of course. We're going to be best friends forever. And then we're going to have matching tombstones."

It was a nice thought. It was a beautiful thought, you figured nothing could break you two apart. You were best friends and you would always be best friends.

But let's back up.

A few months prior.

Summer had just started and you both were ecstatic. This was the last summer of the two of you being kids and you were going to make the most of it.

Do all the kiddy things you wouldn't be able to do high school.

Go crazy in a Chuck E Cheese. Stay up till the sun comes up watching cartoons. Play every video game known to man.

It was one of the best summers of your life.

Turns out, it was your last summer with Kate. However, neither of you knew it. You were just enjoying each other. A little too much.

It was late at night and you ran out of things to watch.

Right now, you were staring confusedly at Game of Thrones. You didn't know how it got on the tv but you didn't feel like turning it off. "Is he kissing his sister?" Kate wondered as her face scrunched in disgust.

"I believe so."

"Ulch!" She spoke as you just groaned. You didn't know what to say. This show didn't make any sense to you whatsoever.

But you knew you were having fun with your best friend, just being in her company.

You barely remember what happened that night.

But there was one thing you did remember about the night and it was going to be in your brain no matter what.

That was the night you and your best friend, Kate had your very first kiss.

But everything after that was kind of a blur, to Kate anyways. You knew everything. But you weren't in the place to tell.

You weren't in Kate's place at all.

Years after high school, Kate moved out of her old house and moved right into an apartment in New York, starting a life out there for herself.

And she was enjoying herself.

Living in her rinky-dink apartment, eating the worse food you can come by. It was the best and she wouldn't trade it for anything.

Something did always itch at the back of her brain.

It would be so much better if she was sharing it with you.

How much warmer the couch would feel if you were sitting there. How much more homier her place would feel if your stuff was filling every space.

But alas, the place was empty and rustic. No you in sight. Sometimes she wanted to enjoy to its fullest content but then realized. She wouldn't be truly happy until you were by her side once again.

She wished she wasn't so obsessed.

She hadn't seen you in years yet here she was, still thinking about you everyday. She needed to shake these thoughts.

So she got out of her blanket and decided to do something to get her head completely away from you.

Crying at the gym.

She wasn't a gym rat, she could only go so often. Every other week and then she can't do it for a few months. Then repeat. Especially if she does end of crying in there, can't let them see her fall.

But for some reason, when you got on the stair machine, she didn't feel like crying, she felt empowered.

Sure, she missed you but if it was meant to be, you would come back, she kept telling herself. And thankfully enough, she kept it in and got home, no tears needed.

And in less than 2 seconds, she was back in her old spot, eating her nasty food, watching her worse tv. It was a nice feeling.

At least it was, until her mom basically broke her door down.

"Mom!"

"Sorry Katie, you weren't answering your phone! I was trying to get a hold of you." Kate's brows furrowed, her mom looked majorly worried.

"Mom? What happened? Did someone die?"

She momentarily paused, Kate was even more worried. "Someone died?!" She shouted, rushing to her mom's side. "No! Everyone's fine. But something else occurred that I figured you should know."

She shrugged, she didn't know what her mom could tell her that had her breaking doors.

"Y/n is visiting New York. You're going to see her again."

Kate's eyes went wide and if she didn't cry before, she definitely was going to cry now.

Oh shit.

[thoselethalarts]

Who's the Best (and worst) Roommate?

1. Matt. Simply by virtue that he's... never around? He spends extremely long amounts of time away from his room (spending the nights with Marcus usually instead), which means when he was a 2nd year you'd get the whole room to yourself most days. The times he actually is in his home dorm he mostly keeps to himself and reads or listens to audio books. He does like to talk and make friendly conversation though, so if you initiate he'll perk right up from whatever he's doing to chat. The most bother you'll have from him is when him, Marcus, and Kaz get together for a group study session, but they're able to move if you need privacy.

2. Kaz. He's just a sweet boy! If a bit if a pushover sometimes. He likes to talk and get to know you better, but is understanding if you'd prefer to be alone. Any mess he makes he makes sure to keep to his side of the room, though he also gets antsy when the room is a mess he doesn't like to voice his concerns when it happens. If you're feeling under the weather he'll offer to get you something from Sam's to help you feel better. He spends a lot of time away from his room throughout the day and mostly just comes back to sleep late at night (though he tries to be quiet as possible when he comes back too late). Every week him, Marcus, and Matt will have group study sessions and alternate between each other hosting, but they can usually move to the lobby if you ask.

3. Stahli. Yet another sweet boy! He likes to talk about his day and your day, and might offer to make you some tea and a treat when he's making some for himself. Actually he might offer you food often, since he's always looking for a taste tester for his cooking experiments. He's a little bit of a neat freak though and might pester you to clean things up if you leave the room too unkempt for his taste. Also, he can't stand strong fragrances so he might complain if you want to burn a candle/incense with too strong a fragrance or if you use body spray/perfume.

4. Phobos. He's antisocial and doesn't like being bothered. Being his roommate is only nice if you don't want someone to talk to, cuz chances are he won't want to talk to you even if you try and initate conversation. It's possible to befriend him, but it will just take a bit of time. He stays up really late on his computer, so hopefully you can sleep through the clicking of his keyboard. He gets pissed off if you try to have company over, but can ignore them by playing on his computer with his headphones on.

5. Marcus. He keeps to himself for the most part, so you won't have to worry about him bothering you, however insomnia + night terrors will make sleeping in the same room as him a bit of a challenge. You might hear him wake up or make startled noises periodically through the night. Also his boyfriend Matt is usually hanging around the room with him and will often spend the night. Somehow he's even more nocturnal than Marcus is. Hopefully you'll get used to it. Other than that him, Matt, and Kaz will have group study sessions sometimes and he'll host it in his dorm room. He's understanding though if you want him to move somewhere else.

6. Nyx. Unfortunately staying with him would kind of suck unless you share a lot of characteristics with him. He spends a lot of time alone in his room when classes are out, so I hope you weren't hoping for privacy. Because of his low heat tolerance he requires special accommodations and keeps the room fairly cool, so hopefully you like cooler temperatures too. He often stays up late on his computer and does voice calls with his friends, and while he'll try and lower his voice he still isn't that good at monitoring his volume. There's also a slim chance of Spontaneous Eels knocking on your door at any given moment with no warning. No they won't go away either if you turn them away. He sleeps with a sound machine and a lava lamp cuz he can't stand the dark and quiet. Also he will absolutely get upset if you have too loud of company over, even if he doesn't say something. Hypocrite.

7. Vantablack. As if being around them for long periods of time wasn't unnerving or invasive enough, their side of the room is a godamn quarantine zone. They like to decorate their side of the room with bones and teeth strung up like string lights along their bed and there's a locked chest at the foot of their bed which you can only assume is full of human skulls. Weird sigils are painted on the walls around the window and by the doorway and they will NOT let you scrub them off, no matter how much they bother you. There's a weird smell of moss and lake water that permeates their side of the room at all times. You get the feeling they might have been rummaging through your things when you're not home but you have no proof. They're talkative and really want to get to know you better, but you get this weird feeling that they don't just want to get closer to you because they want to be friends...

[questforgalas]

March on the Temple pt 2.

Summary: While reflecting on memories of the 501st, Echo receives some disturbing news

Word Count: 4.6K

On AO3

Notes: WOOOO BABY DID THIS ONE GET AWAY FROM ME. This made me cry while writing it multiple times, so strap in for a lot of fond brotherly feels as well as post order 66 angst. Echo needs 8000 hugs, and Hunter is a good brother. Italics indicate flashbacks, all from Echo's POV. This chapter is all Echo's POV. I'm wicked proud of this one and feeling more comfortable in my writing, so I hope you all enjoy too!

Warnings: we be angsty babes. angst with a happy ending, post order 66, fond memories of the 501st, Rex is dogpiled by younglings, Ahsoka, Kix, Fives, Jesse, Hardcase, Appo, and Denal all make appearances, Hunter is there for his big brother

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3

Tay's Masterlist

Read on AO3

“Echo, what does the reg manual say about loth wolves?”

Letting loose his sixth exasperated sigh since this conversation started, Echo closed his eyes with the false hope that he could block out Fives’ increasingly worrying questions.

“No animals of any kind are allowed in the barracks, Fives. Not tookas. Not loth wolves. Not eeopie. And definitely not rancor, before you even ask.”

“But hear me out,” Hardcase starts. “What if we get the general to ‘sign off’ on them? You know he barely looks at the reports before he signs them, always racing off once we land on Coruscant. No way he’d notice a petition for permission to bring a tooka on board.”

“Rex would love a tooka. He just doesn’t know it yet,” Jesse added.

The thing about the 501st, especially Hardcase, Fives, and Jesse, is that their boredom-induced plans were usually harmless. Echo could say that with 87% certainty. But that other 13% … well, the idea of bringing on a “mascot of the 501st” was being discussed longer than Echo was comfortable with.

“Fives, we’ve only been in hyperspace for a rotation. It’s too soon for you to give Rex a headache.”

“Oh come on Echo. You can’t tell me you wouldn’t ….”

The other thing about the 501st is that no matter how many times they made Echo groan, they made him smile twice as often. 

Staring into the bright jungle of Saleucami, Echo found his mind wandering to his brothers and thinking of the trouble they would get into here. Hardcase alone would run Kix out of bandages no doubt thanks to the brightly colored fauna. Echo loosed a sigh and leaned his head back against the side of Su and Cut’s house. Since they fled Kamino, he’s caught himself thinking of his old squad more often than usual.Maybe it was the memories of familiarity while now in a galaxy of uncertainty that brought him comfort. Or maybe because any memories of his newest squad involved one missing member, and the betrayal Echo felt ran deeper than he wanted to acknowledge at the moment.

Fighting hard to not let his mind conjure up images of clones shooting at a Jedi padawan or, worse, a black chamber with the sounds of machines beeping out of sight, Echo reached for memories painted blue.

“Do you think they’ll let us eat in their mess hall? I heard the temple food is some of the best on Coruscant,” Kix hadn’t stopped rambling since they got the orders to meet Commander Tano at the Jedi Temple. Echo didn’t blame him. It wasn’t often non-command clones were summoned to the temple, and even though Fives and Echo walked the halls a few times before, this was Kix’s first visit. So, his energy was nothing but amusing to the other two.

“Is it even called a mess hall here? That doesn’t sound very Jedi. It’s probably called something like ‘The Nourishing Hall’ or ‘Meals of Enlightenment’,” Fives joked. “Yeah, that sounds right. ‘The Nourishing Hall – double your midi-chlorians with every meal’,” he emphasized the title with a streak of his hand through the air like he was displaying a holoboard.

“Sorry Fives, no midi-chlorian doubling meals here. And hate to break it to ya, but it’s just the cafeteria.” Commander Tano’s voice sounding next to them made all three troopers jump at the same time. They looked to their left to find the young Togruta chuckling to herself, clearly amused with her stealthy stunt. Echo whipped his head around wondering where in the Maker she came from. “Jedi stealth must be a nice trick to have,” he muttered to himself.

Once they made it to the top of the stairs, the three troopers stopped to face Ahsoka, awaiting an explanation as to why they were here, but first, she waved over a blue skinned Twi’lek waiting by the entrance. The Jedi, or Echo assumed they were a Jedi, had kind eyes and an even kinder smile – not uncommon amongst the force wielders.

“Echo and Fives, you’ll follow me as I bring you to the briefing room. But first, Kix, I’d like you to meet Jedi Master Vokara Che. She’s the head healer here at the temple,” Ahsoka explained.

Echo looked over and used every moment of his ARC training to refrain from bursting out laughing once he saw the look on Kix’s face. The 501st medic stood there with eyes wide and mouth agape, processing the presence coming toward them. Echo wasn’t familiar with the Jedi Master, but based on Kix’s reaction, he certainly was.

“Hello medic Kix. I’ve heard about the remarkable work you do on the field for your battalion, and, if you’ll allow, I’d like for you to spend time in the healing halls here over the next few rotations. I think we can learn a great deal from each other,” Jedi Master Che spoke with a sing-song voice.

Hands clasped together, the Jedi healer stood patiently as she waited to hear Kix’s response, which, to everyone’s amusement, never came as he was stuck with the same wide eyes and open mouth that formed when the healer joined them. Master Che’s smile quirked up at the corners in amusement. Not able to let their brother make a fool of himself any longer, Fives softly punched Kix’s shoulder to jolt him out of his stupor.

“Don’t mind him, ma’am. We’re still adjusting back to Coruscant time from our most recent mission, but I can speak for Kix when I say he’d be honored to learn from you,” Echo supplied for the medic.

With a bashful smile, Kix finally spoke up, “Echo’s right. It would be an honor, ma’am. Please, show me the way.”

As he was walking away, Kix gave one quick glance back at Echo and Fives with a face that only said “Can you kriffing believe this?” Echo and Fives finally let loose their amused chuckles, and with two casual salutes, the ARCs bid their brother farewell and turned to their Jedi.

“So, Commander, what do the generals have for us this time?” Fives asked.

“Rex hand picked you two for this one. It’s as big as it gets boys. You’re breaking into the Citadel,” Ahsoka informed them with a gleam in her eyes.

Echo jolted off the side of the house, breath coming in pants, needing to put his head in his hand. That was one of his favorite memories, but Echo forgot what it led up to. The gleam in Ahsoka’s eyes. Echo’s excited gasp. Fives confident smirk. Maker, if only they knew what 12 hours later was going to bring them. Was going to bring him.

Recalling the breathing exercises Tech taught him, Echo focused on bringing his heartbeat down and making the ringing in his ears stop. As he gradually recovered, he heard the footsteps of someone approaching from around the house. Based on the soft footfall, Echo knew it was Hunter. He was the softest footed of his brothers next to Crosshair, and sure enough, the sergeant rounded the corner to find Echo slumped at the waist with his elbows on his knees.

“Panic attack?” Hunter simply asked.

“Flashback. Nothing direct. I’m almost back.” Echo rattled off like it was a mission report.

“Mind some company?” Echo looked up and gave his permission with a curt nod. Hunter slotted himself in between the ARC and some feed crates which Echo assumed was to try and give him space as he brought himself back to here and now. Yet, even through the haze of his flashback, Echo didn’t could pick up on the nervous energy coming off of his sergeant. Sure, Omega was almost eaten by a nexu not an hour ago, but he didn’t think it would still contribute to Hunter being this on edge.

“Memories of your old squad usually help, don’t they?” Hunter’s gruff voice broke through Echo’s thoughts, and he looked up with a confused look that had the sergeant chuckling, subtly tapping his ear as if to say, “Enhanced senses, remember?”

“I’d hear you sometimes during your recovery sessions with Tech. Especially during the tougher ones. You’d resort to telling stories of the 501st. I think Tech realized this too. He started to prompt you when he noticed you having a tough time,” Hunter explained. Echo wanted to be surprised, but all Hunter’s observation did was wash a calm wave over his frayed nerves. Typical of his brothers to distract him from the horrors of war even when they weren’t on the same planet – or alive.

A soft sigh escaped his lips as his heart beat finally calmed to a steady beat. Soft rays from the late afternoon sun started creeping around the corner of the house and draped the two in a warm haze. Echo was starting to relax from his episode, but he noticed that Hunter was as stiff as if they were standing at attention on Kamino. Unable to handle the anxiety any longer, Echo spoke up, “Something on your mind, Hunter?”

Echo was expecting Hunter to blink out of his stupor. Maybe jolt his head in Echo’s direction as if he had been lost in thought and forgot the trooper was next to him. What he didn’t expect was for Hunter to let out a deep sigh and close his eyes as if he was struggling to find his next words. Quiet settled over them as Echo waited for him to choose when he was ready to speak. With one more drawn out breath, Hunter finally spoke.

“Have you seen any of the reports coming out of Coruscant?”

Echo’s eyebrows furrowed at the random nature of Hunter’s question.

“We haven’t exactly had a lot of time to take a Holonews break, Hunter.”

“Humor me.”

“No, I haven’t sought out any reports. If I’m being honest, I figured Tech would take on that responsibility and report anything of note,” Echo answered. Seeing Hunter continue to be wound tight caused Echo himself to stiffen. He’d never seen Hunter like this, even with everything that just occurred.

“What’s going on Hunter? Why should I care about imperial reports?”

At last, Hunter’s eyes met his. “Tech was scanning through records and reports during the trip here when he stumbled across something.” Hunter reached across his body, and that’s when Echo noticed a datapad dangling from his belt. Unclipping it, Hunter brought it in front of him and activated it. “It’s an imperial article detailing the attack on the Jedi temple. Would uh, would you like to read it?” He grimaced when he asked. If this exchange wasn’t clouded with nervous energy, Echo probably would have laughed at the sergeant’s attempts to be casual about something that was clearly the opposite.

“Hunter.” The sergeant grimaced again. “Just tell me what’s going on before you make yourself implode.” That earned Echo an amused huff.

“Turns out, the clones didn’t just turn on the Jedi in the field. A clone battalion marched on the temple in Coruscant and wiped the place clean. Tech theorizes that the number of Jedi scattered across fronts at the time was deliberate so the temple was vulnerable. According to Tech, the majority of those in the temple at the time were…”

“Younglings,” Echo finished for him. As he was taking in Hunter’s words, he cast his eyes to the ground finding the Saleucami dirt comforting.

“Yeah, younglings,” Hunter confirmed. Echo felt him angle his body against the house facing him now.

“Why are you telling me this? You’ve sought me out, made sure we’re alone and out of earshot. Why isn’t this something the squad is being briefed on? And why are you grimacing more and more with each of my questions? Hunter, what the kriff are you trying to tell me?”

Echo’s voice started low and puzzled, but it rose with each statement. He managed to keep it to a harsh whisper since clearly Hunter wanted to make sure they had privacy, but his chest was rising and falling rapidly as he tried to puzzle together what could possibly warrant this serious of a conversation. Thankfully, Hunter didn’t make him wait long.

“Echo, I’m sorry to have to tell you this. The clone battalion that marched on the temple? It was the 501st.”

Echo went still. He saw Hunter keep talking, but his ears were static as he processed the last sentence. “It was the 501st.”

When Echo watched the clones shoot down General Billaba, he’d accepted right then and there that he was going to have to process a lot of things that didn’t make sense to him in the coming future. He was proven right as he listened to the new emperor’s speech, as he saw Tarkin oversee clone evaluations, and as he saw Crosshair wearing all black armor. All of that he saw, he processed, and he adapted. It’s what ARC troopers did. But this? “It was the 501st”.

That one statement kept ringing in his head, refusing to be processed.

“Echo? Echo! Talk to me here,” Hunter’s worried voice broke through the static. Looking around him, Echo realized he’d gone from leaning against Cut and Su’s house to sitting on the ground with his knees in his chest, head held in his one hand. He didn’t remember sliding down nor Hunter coming down with him, putting an arm around his shoulder and giving it soft pats attempting to ground him.

Still feeling like he didn’t have complete control back in his limbs, Echo turned his head to look at Hunter. “That’s not possible, Hunter. Of all the battalions, no. It’s not possible.”

Hunter’s face softened as he took in Echo’s desperate eyes. He knew the look well – it was the same look he wore when he watched Crosshair walk into the hangar on Kamino. Desperate that what his eyes were seeing was a sick trick his exhausted mind was playing on him. He saw Echo struggling the same way as he let the news sink in.

“I know Echo, I know. I’m sorry.” It was all Hunter could come up with for now.

“They – they were there for the rescue. When the Chancellor was taken by Dooku. I spoke with Rex on the way to Kaller. He explained he, Jesse, and half the 501st were going to Mandalore while the other half stayed with Skywalker to go to Coruscant. I remember being envious he was getting to go fight with real mandalorians.” An amused huff passed Echo’s lips.

“The other battalions – they – there were on the fronts. It would’ve left just the Corrie Guard and the 501st.” His head thumped against the side of the house again. “But Hunter, Rex and Jesse were both on Mandalore. Who led the attack on the temple?” There was no one else left to lead. Everyone who would’ve been in command were sent with Rex. Even Commander Tano’s short return sent her to the warrior planet, and Echo admittedly wasn’t entirely up to date on the latest command structure of the 501st, but he was sure no one was left on Coruscant to…

Echo’s head snapped up, and he fought with everything he had to not hurl his lunch right there between his legs. “Hunter. Who led the attack? Who led the battalion into the temple?” Echo asked the questions so quietly that Hunter had to rely on his enhanced hearing to hear them.

“I think you know, Echo.”

“Say it.”

Echo felt more than heard the deep sigh Hunter let loose. “The article says the troops were led by General Skywalker,” Hunter finally admitted.

In war, you go through a lot of breaking points. They can be random, patterned, frequent, or rare. But every trooper has at least one story of when they finally felt it all cave in – the taxing missions, the losses, the anti-clone idealists, the deaths. The clones’ engineered adaptability could usually keep these episodes short, but that didn’t erase the mental scarring each one left. As an ARC trooper, Echo received additional mental simulations since it was assumed they’d see more gruesome realities. But right now, all of the mental simulations and breathing exercises in the galaxy couldn’t keep Echo upright.

It happened in slow motion. Hunter watched as Echo processed this last piece. First, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion like Hunter just spoke Huttese. Then, his eyes widened in shock when the words took meaning. Next, his pupils flared with anger like this was a tasteless prank Hunter was trying to pull. But when Hunter didn’t flinch and kept his face passive, Echo’s eyes showed a half second of acceptance before pooling with tears. In one last attempt to keep his emotions in check, Echo closed his eyes, trying to focus on his breaths. And then he crumbled.

The mental and physical exhaustion of the last 48 hours settled in, and Echo let this final hit tip him over the mental brink he’d been teetering over. The tears sprang quickly, and it didn’t take long for his body to be wracked with heavy sobs. As the world turned blurry, Echo found himself thinking one thing, “Thank the Maker Rex wasn’t there. Thank the Maker he doesn’t have to live with that nightmare on his conscience.”

The hangar of the Resolute was bustling as troopers loaded the last of the supplies. This was going to be one of their quicker relief missions, and the offload should only take an hour, tops. As the last troopers were loading into the LAAT/is ready to head down to the surface, Echo hopped up next to Rex.

“Fives make it on?” Rex asked him.

“And miss the opportunity to be revered like a hero? You know better than that, Rex,” Echo smirked at the captain as he gave an eye roll before putting his helmet on. Rex tried, but he was terrible at hiding his soft spot for the rambunctious ARC trooper.

“Listen up troopers, this is a simple offload and base rebuild. We’ll set the survivors up with basic medical, food, and communication capabilities. If time allows, we’ll assist with rebuilds of the school and main housing sector. Denal, you’ll take R2 and make sure their mainframe is online. Kix, you’ll head the medical setup. I’ll dole out the rest of duties on the ground. Understood?”

“Sir, yes sir,” answered in unison. Instead of relaxing though, all of the troopers on their ship, including Echo, remained at attention. Rex smirked to himself knowing what they were waiting for.

“Once your duties are complete, you have permission to free time,” he informed them. Soft whoops filled the LAAT/i. These types of relief missions were Echo’s favorites. Most of the time, they would unload the supplies, set up the required facilities, and then have to ship off to the next battle or war-torn zone. Occasionally though, they had a sliver of time where they could forget they were soldiers and just be.

2 hours later, Echo and Jesse had the common kitchen fully functioning, and they were now helping a group of clones and locals build shelter structures. The locals of this settlement on Haruun Kal were enthusiastic to receive the supplies and help from the clones. Pausing his hammering for a breather, Echo heard a commotion rise up behind him. Glancing in the direction of the noise, he found the source with ease.

Fives, Hardcase, and Appo were surrounded by a group of 12 younglings who were shouting questions at the clones. It didn’t take long for Echo to spot the holoball in Hardcase’s hand, and that answered nearly all of Echo’s questions. Gently, he nudges Jesse next to him.

“Looks like the boys are trying to get a holoball game going with the younglings. Wager on how quickly Fives gets knocked on his sheb?”

“Oh Maker no! They don’t think they’re playing without me!” Jesse exclaims before putting his hammer down and running over. Echo looked around and saw that the structure was complete, so he put his hammer back in the toolbox and wandered over to the group.

“What’s a holoball?”

“Do we have to run with it?”

“Does your armor give you super strength?”

“You’re twice as big as us! That’s not fair!”

“Can I hold your blaster?”

“Are you actually brothers?”

“Have you ever held a lightsaber?”

“Why do you have a tattoo on your face?”

“Ok ok! One question at a time. My brother here is going to explain the rules. Then, if you have any other questions about holoball, and holoball only, we’ll answer them before getting the game started!” Fives attempted to focus the younglings.

When more than 5 seconds of silence passed, Appo got started on explaining the game. Leaning against some crates off to the side, Echo felt a smile crossing his lips observing the younglings listening as if Appo was explaining how to obtain unlimited sweets. A moment later, he felt a presence come up beside him and settle on the crate next to him. Turning his head, Echo noticed Rex observing the scene.

“Holoball, huh? Nice touch. Hopefully, they know what they’re getting into,” Rex hummed. Echo noted Rex’s jaig eyes looking at him from his knee, and he appreciated that this is the most relaxed he thinks he’s ever seen his captain.

“Jesse and I think the younglings are going to run circles around Fives.”

Rex chuckled, “I don’t doubt that for a second. Fives is a skilled trooper, but he’s not the most athletic.”

“Hey Echo, we’re down a player! Wanna hop in?” Hardcase interrupted them from the makeshift field.

"I'm good Hardcase, just want to watch.” Then Echo tilted his head to the side. “What about you Captain? Wanna show them how it’s done?”

Echo was sure the look Rex gave him would skewer a rancor.

“Oh please please please Mr. Captain sir! You can be on our team!” A little girl with curly brown hair and big brown eyes looked up at Rex begging him to join. Echo had to keep his laugh in as he witnessed the stoic captain of the 501st melt directly under the youngling’s gaze. It was a similar tactic Echo saw Commander Tano use against the captain, and it appeared Rex was defenseless against it no matter the being.

“Yeah, Captain! Do it for the younglings!” Fives added with a cheeky grin. Rex shot him a quick glare, but he immediately softened again when he looked back down at the little girl.

“Ok cyar’ika, I’ll play.” The younglings erupted as Rex walked over.

To Echo’s glee, and Fives, Hardcase, and Appo’s horror, Rex turned out to be one heck of a holoball player. His team of younglings stood with rapt attention every time Rex kneeled down to draw up their next play. It was clear Rex’s leadership skills weren’t only for the battlefield because every play the younglings executed flawlessly, and soon they were leaving the other team in the dust.

Eventually, Fives gave the order to take down Rex with any means possible. Next thing they knew, Rex has carrying the holoball down the field along with 3 younglings hanging onto his arms and legs trying to take him down. At the last second, Rex was able to pass off to a young girl, but he wasn’t quick enough to stop himself from being tackled to the ground. Instead of stopping the little girl, the rest of the younglings decided this was the perfect time to take the 501st captain out.

Echo couldn’t believe his eyes. 4 younglings were piled on top of Rex tickling him, and Rex was laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes. Seeing the effective strategy, the other younglings turned on Appo, Fives, and Hardcase and managed to take 2 of the 3 down. So there in front of him was the captain of the 501st, an ARC trooper, and Hardcase on the ground being tickled by younglings. Echo looked over at Appo and Jesse, and after a couple shocked seconds, the three of them were doubled over in laughter. They soon found this to be a grave mistake though, because Rex had managed to gain control of the situation again and rallied the younglings to take down the remaining troopers.

Hours later, back in the mess hall of the Resolute, many were gathered around to hear the story of the great holoball tournament of Haruun Kal. Many parts of the story were going to go down in 501st history if Fives had anything to do with it, but the legend of Captain Rex crying from laughter under a pile of younglings was already Echo’s favorite.

A gentle arm circled around Echo’s shoulders, bringing him back to the present. He felt Hunter give him a gentle nudge in his direction. A simple gesture saying, “I’m here. You’re not going through this alone. Use me if you need to.” If Echo had the energy, he’d take Hunter up on his offer, but his body was exhausted and all he could manage was occasionally wiping the tears from his eyes as he huddled over his knees. Always the leader, Hunter remained at his side allowing Echo whatever space he needed to work through the news.

“Do the others know?” Echo managed to ask when his sobs started to quiet down.

“Only Tech. He came directly to me, but it’s your play going forward.”

After what felt like an hour but was more likely a few minutes, Echo was able to even his breathing and lift his head up from his hand. Tilting his head up to the late evening sun, he let the final tendrils of shock and sorrow work their way out of his system. At last, he felt like he could take a full breath again.

“Thanks Hunter. I imagine that wasn’t an easy one.”

“Certainly wasn’t one of our training simulations, that’s for sure,” Hunter chuckled under his breath. Even Echo found it in himself to crack a small smile.

“Well, thanks for telling me. And for staying with me. That w-that was a hard one to process. If it’s alright with you, I’d like to remain here a little longer while I finish collecting myself.”

“Of course, Echo. I know you’ve only been with us a couple months, and everything’s kind of flipped upside down right now, but you’re one of us and whatever you need, we’ll be right here to help you.” Hunter placed a gentle hand on Echo’s shoulder as he spoke, and when he was done, he gave him a soft squeeze before standing up and heading back inside the house.

The sun was making its final descent behind the horizon giving Echo a sense of relief that this day was done. With a slight wobble in his knees, he stood himself up using the side paneling as support. Process and adapt – that’s all he could do. Taking each day one at a time. Feeling his body relax as he accepted this new galaxy, Echo gave a final glance at the sky. A deep, familiar blue blanketed the quiet farm as if it was trying to reach and wrap around him. A thought from earlier popped into his mind – even when gone, the 501st were there to help him see the next day.

Sensing that the peace and quiet had lasted long enough, the galaxy jolted Echo back into reality when he heard the front door slam and Hunter’s voice following. “Tech! Getting our ship impounded is not my idea of a solution!”

Gifting himself one final moment of quiet, Echo readied himself for the next unforgettable memory his newest brothers have no doubt gotten themselves into.  

[thessalian]

Thess vs A Delayed Eulogy

Finished playing Lost Words: Beyond the Page. My bestie was right; it’s sweet and sad ... and for me it was a little too close to home. I mean, I wasn’t there when my grandmother died - I was in no contact mode with my mother at the time and since we moved to the UK, she’s been my primary source of contact with my remaining family in Montreal (the ones that I bother talking to, anyway - still have no intention of talking to my father). But I was there when my grandfather died. I mean, he was apparently my step-grandfather, and not even that since Nanny and Grampa were only married in the ‘common law’ sense of the term, but I still can’t think of him that way. He was the only grandfather I knew, and I only found out that he wasn’t blood-related to me after he died, during the whole mess with his biological daughter and her husband trying to cheat Nanny out of every scrap of inheritance they could. I’m kind of glad of that, to be honest. I don’t think I would have behaved any differently, but he ... well, he was my Grampa.

And I had to watch him diminished and confused and doped out on painkillers. It’s the kind of thing that makes me glad that my mother, and my grandmother, both had their kids young. It was hard enough dealing with that as an adult; I don’t know what I would have been like if it had happened when I was a kid. Then again, I had enough to deal with in terms of my grandparents when I was a kid. They were alcoholics, both of them. It made things difficult when we’d go over to visit when I was a kid. We did that a lot when I was younger, because Nanny and Grampa had a washing machine and dryer, and it was way cheaper to do our laundry there, and let Nanny and Grampa have time with their only grandchild, than to drag ourselves and our laundry to the laundromat. But there was drinking and often there was yelling, and eventually Mum refused to go back except for holidays, somehow scraping together the money for a washing machine of our own. But we still visited; just ... less often.

They lived in a not-great part of the city, in a little narrow apartment with the tiniest patch of ground that I guess was technically a front lawn and a slightly larger patch of gravel in the back that I think even the dandelions refused to colonise. But even with so little ground to work with, even when drunk all the time, my grandparents made a garden. There were cucumber plants and tomato plants and one very lonely rose bush. I contributed a string bean plant one year - I think I’d grown it for a school project or something. Of course, now I look at my own attempts to make a garden when I don’t even have that tiny patch of ground to work with, and I hope they can see it.

They got sober after we left Canada for the US. Went to AA meetings - I know it doesn’t help everyone, but it helped them. I wish they’d been able to do that when we were still living close enough to visit more often than Christmas and Thanksgiving. I wish I’d had more time with them when they weren’t ... you know, volatile. But there was never any question that they loved me, so I guess there’s that. They tried their best. I liked Christmas best, I think, because Grampa would leave the women of the family to snipe at each other over the best way to cook the turkey, and come help me put together whatever “some assembly required” toy I’d got as a gift that year. He was pretty handy in terms of household maintenance, so I’m pretty sure he faked a lot of the grumbling about not being able to do parts of it, just so he could praise me for being able to. “You’d better put this in; my hands are too big and I’ll break it - there you go, see? You’ve got good hands”, that kind of thing. And for my birthdays, Nanny would put together special cakes shaped like animals. She used coconut coloured with food colouring for a lot of the detail work. I never had the heart to tell her I didn’t like coconut. Now I’m more or less okay with coconut, but only in its shredded form. It always makes me think of her.

I guess I don’t really think about them very often. Since we moved farther and farther away, they weren’t so big a part of my life in the day-to-day. Not a part of my life, but a part of my heart all the same. I wasn’t at Nanny’s funeral. I didn’t speak at Grampa’s funeral - I don’t remember if a lot of people did; I spent a lot of the funeral taking care of my Auntie Mickey, who’s intellectually disabled and was very sad and scared and confused, so that Mum and Nanny could grieve in peace. Not that I didn’t grieve. Not that I don’t still. But all they wanted for me was for me to be happy, so I don’t think they’d grudge me not thinking about them all the time. I know they’d be happy that I’m doing better - you know, in myself. I guess it’s hard when you love someone and see them not loving themselves. I guess I wish I could have just ... one more dinner with them. Cook for them; make something for them to eat and enjoy after all the dinners they made for me, with Grampa taking great pains to make sure that I didn’t have to eat turnips (we had a deal - if they didn’t make me eat turnips, I wouldn’t complain about the carrots. I didn’t much like carrots but I hated turnips) or raw onion (he used to put bits of raw onion in the mashed potato and I guess raw onion was too strong for me back then because I didn’t like that either, so he’d take some potatoes out and mash them separately from the servings with onions in; Mum sometimes complained about the effort I was putting them to and tried the “eat what’s put in front of you” thing but Nanny always cut in with, “It’s Christmas;” - or Thanksgiving or my birthday or whatever - “she should have what she likes!”). Show them my balcony garden. Tell them I love them. I know they knew, and probably still know if there is an ‘after’, but sometimes you just want to say it.

I was going to talk a bit more about ... you know, the actual game that kicked all this off? But I’ll do that another time. This is long enough already. But at the end of the day, my grandparents are part of where I came from - the part of me that gardens, and has food as a love language, and knows that you can get better from some things, if you work hard enough and make best use of the available support systems. I guess I don’t miss them often because I didn’t see them often ... well, that and it’s been over two decades since they died. But I guess I still do miss them. Which is good, in a way. Better than letting them be forgotten. So I guess this is kind of the eulogy I never had a chance to give, one way or another.

[doctornota]

@maledinner

SO MAYBE IT'S TIME TO PUT MORE THAN JUST BEER IN THE FRIDGE.

Here's the thing: Leonard is perfectly fine with letting his own nutrition slip a little every now and then ( he's busy, this place is weird; he buys something from the break room vending machine every day and picks up food on the way home, so he's not doing too terribly ), but he draws the line when it comes to Jim. Jim, who went the long way back from class most days during the Academy to make sure Bones had bought himself a sandwich and stashed ration bars in his medical bag but was so damn sneaky all the time that Leonard could never quite figure out how the hell he was surviving. For somebody with what seemed to be such a deep-seated anxiety regarding food - the cause of which Leonard has never identified, but he's a doctor, not a psychologist - he was real damn evasive about his own habits.

They had worried about one another too often back then. It had gotten old fast. On the Enterprise, they ate most of their meals together. The replicators made it easy. Here? Christ alive, he's gonna have to pick up cooking again, if that's the only damn way to ensure they're both not regressing into starving alcoholics. It's been five years and some change since those days - he stands in the meat aisle with Spoogle results for easy cheap meals pulled up on his phone and wonders just how many ground beef-based dishes they can tolerate in the span of one week. He's there for a while, which is the only reason the other man in the aisle catches his attention at all.

He's been standing there even longer than Leonard has, hands folded behind his back, gaze intently focused on the refrigerated raw chicken. He watches him out of the corner of his eye; is he new around here? Just plain broke? He looks a little too well put together for either of those options.

"It all mostly tastes the same," Leonard advises him finally, because it's kind of weirding him out, and points to chicken breast and then chicken thigh to indicate what he's talking about. "Might as well just flip a coin for it. Or buy whatever's cheaper. That's my approach."

[vgckwb]

P5R: Rebel Girl (A FeMC Story/P5R Rework) Chapter 214: The Middle

The next day, Ren decided to stop in Akihabara to see how Shinya was doing. Once she entered the arcade, she glanced at him and could feel an intense aura emitting from him. He wasn’t cursing up a storm as he usually does, but she could tell that a storm was brewing all the same.

She approached him cautiously, and waited for him to finish the round. Once he was done, she said “Um, hi.”

Shinya turned the game’s gun on her. Ren jumped up for a second. Shinya, realizing it was just Ren, lowered the gun, and said “Oh. …Sorry.”

Ren chuckled. “Eh heh. It’s fine. How are you doing?” Shinya grunted. “You wanna talk about it?”

Shinya paused for a moment. “...Fine.” Ren nodded. They went outside and grabbed some drinks from the vending machine. “Every time I think about how Takekuma cheated, I get mad. But it's even worse when I think about how he treated you.”

“I know it’s frustrating,” Ren said, “but it’s not healthy to obsess over, you know?”

“Mmmm,” Shinya grunted. “It’s not just him though. Plenty of people look down on me or my mom. I’m sick of it!”

Ren sighed. “I can’t say that you’re wrong, but… I don’t know if you’re going about this the right way.”

“What should I do then?!” Shinya responded. “Let them get away with it?! Just let them walk all over me.”

“Well, no…” Ren tentatively agreed. “But it’s important not to escalate things. I mean, I tried that, and it only made my situation worse.”

“Hmmmm,” Shinya pondered. “So then what?”

“Well…maybe you should try to level with them,” Ren suggested.

“Level with them?” Shinya replied.

Ren nodded. “Yeah. Just try talking things through with them. I mean, I don’t know if it’ll work entirely, but it's better than just trying to channel your unbridled fury at them.”

Shinya looked down. “Perhaps you’re right. Although I doubt that Takekuma is up for something like that.”

“Well, in some cases, it is better to just let go and not talk to them again,” Ren said.

“I’m not sure that’ll happen,” Shinya said. “He’s the kind of guy that likes to make people feel small, so I think he’ll be back.”

“True…” Ren said.

Shinya smirked. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t be prepared. I think I know how to get around his cheating, but I’ll have to work at it. But thanks to you, I’m not going to get distracted by my rage.”

Ren giggled. “That’s the spirit!”

Tower-Shinya Oda: Rank 5

“So, wanna go practice for a bit?” Ren suggested.

Shinya chuckled. “You know it!” The two recycled their drinks, and then played Gun About until Shinya had to head home.

As Ren was leaving Akihabara, she got a message from Haru.

Haru: Hello.

Haru: Would you mind accompanying me for a bit?

Haru: I want to look into different styles of food and drink.

Ren: Of course.

Ren: Um, where do you want to go?

Haru: I was thinking about going to a hotel called the Wilton.

Haru: They have an exquisite buffet.

Ren: I’m aware.

Ren: We went there after we took down Kamoshida.

Haru: Oh. I see.

Haru: Well then, I’m sure you know how good it is.

Ren: I’ll meet you there.

Haru: Alright.

Haru: See you soon.

Ren: Seeya!

Ren put her phone away, and headed to the Wilton.

Once she and Haru were there, they grabbed some food, and took a seat. Haru had also ordered coffee for the two of them, and it quickly arrived.

Haru chuckled. “The service here really is nice.”

“Indeed,” Ren agreed.

Haru nodded. “I’ve come here often with my father, so I know the food is good.” She glanced at her coffee cup. “But I’ve only recently been getting into coffee. I want to get a sense of how good things are all around if I wish to make something that’s good.”

Ren looked at her coffee. “This…isn’t ordinary coffee, is it?”

Haru giggled. “How could you tell?”

“I’ve spent enough time in Leblanc to grow accustomed to things,” Ren answered.

“Well, you’re right,” Haru said. “This is dark ivory coffee. Apparently one cup costs 6,000 yen.”

Ren was surprised. “Um, I can take care of my bill…”

Haru chuckled. “It's quite alright I invited you here, so I can take care of things. Besides, as your senpai, I don’t mind treating you as my kohai.”

“I see,” Ren said.

“In any case, I think it’s worth a try,” Haru said. “I want only the best for the customers, so if this is the best, I’ll take note of it.” She lifted her cup. “Cheers.”

Ren did the same. “Cheers.” They took a drink. “Hmmmmm… This has a strange mellow flavor, with a hint of bitterness. Very different than what’s at Leblanc.”

“I agree,” Haru said. “But that comes with its own issues. I do think it tastes good, but I can hardly say that this is coffee. Apparently, it was brewed using beans gathered from elephant dung.”

Ren was shocked. “Wait, what?!”

Haru nervously chuckled. “Sorry. I was afraid if you knew beforehand you wouldn’t give it a try.”

“Well…” Ren replied. “I dunno…”

“Thanks for being so kind about this,” Haru said. “But this is actually a little more common than you think. Another kind of rare coffee, kopi luwak, is made from gathering beans from the feces of a small cat called a civet.”

“You know,” Ren remarked. “Truth really is stranger than fiction.”

Haru giggled. “Perhaps if we’re nice enough, maybe Mona-chan would let us make coffee with his beans.”

“I think we’d have to ask him first,” Ren said.

“Of course,” Haru said. “But if it tastes good enough, it could become Leblanc’s specialty. Oh, but we need him for operations and stuff. And I imagine harvesting the beans would be a full time job.”

"I guess that’s true too,” Ren said.

“Hmmm,” Haru thought. “Coffee is a lot more complex the more you think about it.”

“True,” Ren agreed, “but the same could be said about anything.”

Haru chuckled. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Haru?!” A voice said. Haru and Ren turned around. Haru recognized the man as Takekura. “I didn’t expect people your age coming here.”

“Oh, Takekura-san,” Haru replied. “Are you here on business?”

“You could say that,” Takekura replied. "Right now, we’re planning a meeting with investors, and we’re looking into different venues. Neutral territory is beneficial for all parties.”

“I see…” Haru said.

“If you do insist on coming, this place might be a good pick,” Takemura continued. “I mean, you clearly enjoy the food.”

“Right,” Haru said.

“But then again, it would be more beneficial if you just let us handle things,” Takakura added. “I’m sure you have a lot on your plate otherwise.”

“I’m fine,” Haru retorted. “I want what’s best for the company too. And I feel like if I let go, I don’t have as much of a say.”

“I see,” Takekura said. “I’ll keep that in mind. But for tonight, let me take care of the bill.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t,” Haru protested.

“I insist,” Takekura said. “After all, I am your elder.”

“Well, if you insist…” Haru said.

Takekura nodded. “You just focus on enjoying your evening with your friend here.”

Haru nodded back. “Right.” Takekura nodded once more, and left to take care of the bill.

“Is that the guy you were telling me about earlier?” Ren asked.

Haru nodded. “Takakura-san. He’s really adamant about me giving up my control.”

Ren shrugged. “He seems nice enough.”

“Yeah…” Haru said. “But I don’t know if I want to give it up without fully communicating what I want. And I’m working on that right now.” She sighed. “I know I told him I was fine, but my plate is as full as he says it is. Between school, being a Phantom Thief, and the business, I’m a little more exhausted than ever. But I also feel more whole, if that makes sense.”

“I think it does,” Ren said.

Haru smiled. “Thanks. You always know just what to say.”

Empress-Haru Okumura: Rank 4

Haru sighed. “I just wish I could figure out how to make dishes even half as good as this.”

“You wanna know something?” Ren said. Haru nodded. “Sumire’s mom is a chef here.”

Haru was surprised. "Really?!”

Ren nodded. “Maybe we can ask to stop over at her place sometime to get a demonstration or something.”

Haru nodded. “That sounds wonderful.” Haru checked the time. “It’s starting to get a little late. Let’s finish what we have and call it a night. But I will talk to Sumire about your idea.” Ren chuckled. They finished their food, and headed home for the night.

[sepheroth]

Layla is sad now. Seeing her beloved husband being sad makes her feel sad...

"Please don't cry..." She held him tightly from behind

It was quite simple, was it not? The day Sephiroth stopped dwelling on his lack of sameness as it would come to someone else who fitted the role of a human, would be the same day that he stopped caring. Stopped caring about what exactly? Stop caring that his existence meant to be used and abused, constantly monitored. The way that some of his own physical attributes weren't anywhere near as human as he'd have liked. The way that his pupils were slit, and the way his hair was somewhere between white and gray. And still, some of the conversations that he had with Hojo when he'd only reached his knee level didn't fit his comfort level at all. He still remembered from all that time ago. That he should be celebrating his uniqueness, rather than to dash it away and curse himself for them. Curse himself for things that he couldn't help. No matter how much he tried to convince himself that he could. Thinking about being forced into take medicines that he didn't want nor wish to take, and thinking about being injected with things nearly every day still hurt him. Sometimes those pills would be forced down his throat by one of the less kind, the less patient scientists whenever Gast wasn't around or when Hojo decided he couldn't be bothered with the younger Sephiroth's stubbornness in his stead. It was either that, or those medicines found it's way in his food or his drinks without his knowledge. He suddenly started feeling sick. And then he felt angry, then sad. The fact he was often drugged up as a child or tied to some machine made him felt often powerless, or that he ever had his own free will. He choked it up, swallowed his tears back when he froze so they wouldn't come. No matter how much they wanted to. He's become better at fighting it back when someone was around. It was him reliving the nightmares that he had to return to day in, day out. Once he'd snap out of his state of paralysis Sephiroth turned to Layla and he stare at her after he was left suspended in idle activity after who knows how long unresponsive and staring into space for sometime. He was frozen by his traumas. He couldn't say anything as much as he'd have liked to. His eyes were glassy, and red and his throat was hot, dry and thick and it itched. He'd stand there believing for a great remainder of time that he had no voice and so he couldn't speak, that he had forgotten how to speak. While Layla was there with him, he felt himself tremble. It wasn't that he didn't hear her. He did, it's was body's way of responding to shock and trauma of having to relive it out.

[baglove]

(via cat lovers Mask by mohammed elhachimi)

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