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have you eaten yet? (ArvenxReader)
Summary: You’re everywhere, always, helping everyone all the time because you’re as kind as you are strong. You saved the academy and you saved Paldea and helped him out too, what with those Herba Mystica, so Arven wants to show you how much he loves you give back in the way he does best! Everyone loves homecooked meals, right? So why can’t he spit it out so that’s why the words so often falling from his lips are
“Hey, little buddy! Have you eaten yet?”
Word Count: 6173 Warnings: Game spoilers Author’s Note: this was sprouted from shower thoughts!!! Oughgh I love arven!!!! Just thinking about what your little journey could be like from his perspective AND IF HE WAS FALLING IN LOVE WITH YOU .but also has inner conflict bc this guy really needs a hug. please enjoy!! :) - missusk
Read here on Ao3
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“Have you eaten yet, Arven?” came a call from the lighthouse.
“No!” the child said enthusiastically, bounding up the dirt hill to his dear father. A Maschiff was hot on his heels, panting alongside the boy after their rigorous game of fetch-and-chase. The sun was beginning to set, with rays of gold glimmering on their toothy smiles.
“Well come on,” Dad chuckled. “Let’s cook together before I have to get back to work.”
“Okay!” Arven replied, giddy with anticipation in what he’d get to cook with his favorite person in the whole wide world. What would it be today? Pasta? Curry? It’s been so long since they last ate together, and now they can cook together too?!
“You didn’t peek at that new book, did you?” Dad asked from the lighthouse. Arven faltered in his run home. Whoops, he didn’t put the storybook away correctly, did he…?
“Uh-“
There came a chuckle, then a tousle of his hair as Arven finally reached the threshold of their small home. Arven clung with sticky fingers to his father’s dress pants in a quick apology.
“Well, that might’ve spoiled it, but let’s read from it together after dinner, shall we?”
“Okay!” Arven said through a now-guiltless grin, kicking off his boots as they walked together into the lab. “Can we have sandwiches?” He hoped that sounded like an innocent, totally random request, and certainly not inspired by a storybook he didn’t steal a glimpse of earlier that day when Dad was busy.
“Of course, my son.”
Those words were so seemingly inconsequential at the time, but as Arven sits drumming his fingers on the doodle-smudged desk, watching the second hand of the clock tick-tick-tick by, he only wished he remembered more of those seemingly inconsequential times. He heaves out a sigh – whatever, those thoughts haven’t gotten him anywhere before, and it’s not like anything would change by thinking about it more today.
“Phones away, please,” came Mr. Saguaro’s voice, interrupting Arven’s hazy sepia-toned memory like a shock of bright blue. “Before we begin class, I’d like to introduce our new transfer student.”
Oh? A new student in this part of the term? That was interesting enough to draw his attention away from missing his dad the hangnail he kept picking at.
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