#tells him sit while he peels vegetables or something so even if he is cooking at least he’s not on his feet

[winchester101]

“Your crewmates must take extremely good care of you”

I’m def thinking about this in a extremely normal way

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Look okay like I can't stop with the headcanons someone send help.

Between being married to a chef, and prior to that being the primary cook in my household from age sixteen to twenty-four, I absolutely love cooking. It's been one of my passions for years.

So we're doing headcanons about Reader asking the OPLA boys to cook with them.

Obligatory Sanji foodporn gif for purely aesthetic purposes

Not to be dramatic but I could watch that all day.

In the Kitchen

SFW

Definitely on the fluffy side.

LA!Sanji X Reader, LA!Zoro X Reader, LA!Shanks X Reader, LA!Mihawk X Reader, LA!Buggy X Reader

Sanji

"—and this is a boning knife, and this is a santoku, and this is a mezzaluna, and—"

Please.

Please please please cook with him. It will make his entire year.

You could wake him up out of a dead sleep at two in the morning and tell him you want to cook with him, and he'll be wide awake and literally dragging you into the kitchen in excitement.

You sharing in his passion is far more important than anything else.

And you'd best believe he's going to use it as an excuse to be even more flirty than usual.

Standing behind you with one arm around your waist while he shows you the best way to hold a knife to keep your wrist from cramping.

Kissing you on the cheek, brushing his lips to your neck, praising you for absolutely every little thing.

There's a very good chance this entire operation is going to devolve into a kitchen make-out session.

Zoro

"Hey, uh...is this supposed to smell like smoke?"

Just bear with him, he's trying.

Tells you he could probably burn a pot of boiling water if he tried hard enough.

You absolutely believe him.

Gets super frustrated about cutting his finger trying to dice an onion but absolutely refuses to give up. Unfortunately his frustration makes him even more clumsy with the knife and...oops.

Tries to multi-task like you do...and definitely ends up burning something.

Sitting at the table afterwards, tapping his foot and sulking about you having to put band-aids on his fingers. Says he's probably going to stick to swords after this...

...But secretly, he's pretty sure if you ever ask him again, he'll do it. He's too stubborn to give up for one, and for another he honestly enjoyed the experience with you despite the chaos.

Shanks

"Ooh, can we do that thing where you pour booze in the pan and it goes up in flames?"

So excited about this, living his best life like always.

Trying to flip the knife in the air and catch it and nearly dropping it on his toe instead.

Literally like a little kid.

He's got a little bit of know-how around the kitchen, but there's definitely room for improvement.

Gets beyond excited about getting anything right, especially if you praise him for it.

Standing behind you with his arm around your waist to watch how you do things, his cheek or his chin resting on your shoulder, just smiling while he listens to you explain the process.

Honestly he's just having a brilliant time doing anything at all with you.

Mihawk

"Are we absolutely certain this doesn't need more wine?"

He's way better at it than you expected, honestly—but then again, he has been living alone for literal years, so it's not that much of a stretch.

No, you may not use his cross-knife to peel potatoes with, no matter how much it resembles a paring knife, stop asking.

Cooking and wine absolutely go hand in hand with him—whether the recipe involves wine or not (but if he's choosing it probably does), he's still having a glass.

Pretty competitive about who's better at making what, but in a less serious and more playful manner.

Pulling out all the stops to ensure you're impressed—you're going to be making something incredibly fancy and classic, like Coq a Vin or Duck Cassoulet.

Absolutely iron focus—if he's cutting vegetables or seasoning something and you're trying to talk to him, there's a fair chance he won't even hear you at first.

Prefers slower methods of cooking—things that need to simmer for a while, braising, so on and so forth. More time to drink wine.

Buggy

"Penne for your thoughts? Don't give me that look, you know I'm hilarious."

An excuse to play with knives? Sign him the hell up.

Telling you he worked in the kitchen when he was on Roger's crew, but failing to mention all he did was wash dishes.

He has no idea what he's doing but he's having a simply marvelous time of it.

The food puns. Dear gods the food puns are unending. You're probably going to end up cutting yourself from either laughing or groaning incessantly.

He's definitely going to detach his hands and chill at the table or sit on the counter while they do the work for him.

Manages to catch something on fire within minutes (and you're ninety-nine percent sure it was intentional).

Just reveling in the chaos while you're rushing to get the baking soda to pour over said fire and clap a lid on the pan.

Don't leave him unattended if you value the continued functionality of your kitchen.

[inkdrinkerworld]

Remmy not letting his gf do anything ever when he’s there is making my brain go brrr

Him being so happy about it is so cute i love the way you write him plz expand on this remmy he’s so gorgeous to me

Imagine you trying to help cook or something and him literally lifting you up and sitting you down because all his girl needs to do is sit there and look pretty

Hehe I really love this idea of remmy cos hes just such an acts of service bf that he hates you doing anything

You can cook. You’ve coked so many times that you can do it with your eyes closed.

However, you’ve just come home from work and Remus doesn’t want you lifting a single finger.

He’s in the kitchen chopping vegetables for a shepherd’s pie.

“Hey Rem, I’m just gonna go shower really quick before I come down to help you.” You stamp a quick kiss to his jaw and rush to the bathroom.

Remus only hums, wiping his hands on the cloth hanging on his apron before setting the onions and garlic in a hot pan.

You come back in, hands aching to help Remus even as you yawn. You lift the peeler, ready to start on the potatoes when Remus shakes his head.

“Nuh uh,” he tuts, taking the metal peeler and potato from your hands and setting them down.

“What? Rem, c’mon.” Your feet are off the floor in an instant. Remus’ hands are on your hips, lifting you effortlessly before placing you on the counter.

“No ‘c’mon’, you know you’re not allowed after work,” he says, peeling the potatoes as he stands next to you. “Tell me about your day? How was the meeting?”

You’re pouty till Remus gives you a soft smile, nudging your jaw with his nose while he waits for you to speak.

“You’re so bossy,” you murmur and Remus chuckles as he listens to you start up. “Well, it was pretty long! The meeting-“

He smiles, plopping potatoes in the pot on the stove as he listens to you go on about your day. Remus notices how you lean into him, body preening for his touch even in the humid kitchen.

[just-a-bored-writer]

Do You Need Help? — Let's Eat Together (Straw Hat Version)

When the Straw Hats notice that you're having trouble eating, each of them decides to help you, in their own way.

I. Luffy

At first, Luffy tries to eat your food and you let him do it so that no one notices that you're not eating. But in the end, it's Luffy who notices that something is wrong. He pays attention to you, you're his nakama, someone important to him. At the end of the meal, he asks you if you are sick. You tell him no, you just have trouble eating sometimes.

Luffy has an idea. He pulls you back into the kitchen by the hand and searches for leftovers. He finds your favorites and places them on a cool plate, one with dinosaurs on it. Like Makino did with him when he didn't want to eat his vegetables, Luffy takes your fork and imitates an airplane to make you eat. You open your mouth and chew a first bite. Luffy smiles.

II. Zoro

Zoro doesn't understand at first why you're having trouble eating. Eating is a mission, he accomplishes missions. But since he cares about you, he stays with you even after everyone else has left. He divides your plate into portions to give you goals to achieve and rewards you every time you finish a new portion.

He's patient with you, if not a little awkward. If you start crying because you're moved by his gesture, he totally freaks out and thinks he did something wrong. When he realizes they're tears of joy, he blushes and mumbles that it's normal because you're his crewmate and your well-being is important.

III. Nami

When that happens, Nami takes you by the arm and leads you under her tangerine trees. You lie down together under the blue sky, your head on her lap. She gently runs her hand through your hair and plays with your locks for as long as you need it. You don't need to justify yourself, Nami is here for you.

Eventually, she pulls a tangerine from a tree and, after carefully peeling it, offers you half of it. Her tangerines are her treasure, but so are you. If necessary, she feeds you each quarter by hand, without ever forcing you. It's up to you to decide. When you're ready to leave, Nami kisses your forehead, her lips sticky from the sugar.

IV. Usopp

Usopp notices immediately, because silences are sometimes the loudest. He doesn't ask right away, not in front of everyone, because you're a brave warrior of the sea and you deserve to be treated as such. He doesn't accuse you, he asks gently and he understands.

The days after, he sits next to you, because a warrior shouldn't have to fight alone. He tells you beautiful stories, entertains you and amuses you until you finish your plate. Once you're done, he winks at you and you know you're not alone.

V. Sanji

It takes you a while to notice that Sanji has noticed. But your food portions are slightly different from the others, smaller but more filling. Sanji offers you snacks during the day instead of a big meal at lunch and dinner. He takes care of you silently, without expecting anything from you in return.

When you ask him why, (shouldn't he be annoyed by the waste?) Sanji tells you that he knows what it's like to have trouble eating. No matter the reason, whether it's "important" or not, it's just as hard. And you deserve help, no matter if you did anything to "deserve" it. It's his role as a cook, and a friend, that everyone has a comfortable relationship with food.

VI. Chopper

Chopper is worried about you, eating is important. He doesn't want to overwhelm you but he wants to help you. You're his friend. He knows you take care of yourself alone but that doesn't mean you don't deserve a little helping hand (or hoof). Doing things together is easier, and funnier.

He makes shapes on your plate with your food, he puts little paper umbrellas in your glass. Everything to make you smile and appreciate what you're eating. Of course, he offers you food supplements and gives you advice on what kind of food you need, but both are as useful and important as the other.

VII. Robin

Robin makes you a cup of verbena tea with honey, she takes her time to do it properly, without using her devil fruit. She sits next to you on the bench with your thighs touching, and she takes your hand in hers before gently squeezing it. She takes out a book and start reading, not pressuring you but silently supporting you.

Slowly, you start eating and Robin encourages you to drink herbal tea between each bite. She stays with you, from beginning to end, even if it took hours. If you ask her, she reads you a passage from her book out loud to distract you. She never lets go of your hand.

VIII. Franky

Franky comes to you when you've been working too long and forget to come eat. No matter where you are, he finds you. He built the Sunny with the crew that would live on it in mind and he knows all your favorite places. He sets a plate down next to you and takes whatever you were doing out of your hands.

You need to take a break, he tells you amused. It's important for your body, you don't have any spare parts. He reminds you to drink water to avoid any future headaches. And, with surprising gentleness, and your permission, he places his hands on your shoulders and massages the knot of stress between your shoulder blades.

IX. Brook

When you're the last one to finish eating, pushing your food around on your plate and not being able to eat it, Brook stays behind with you. He makes sure that you don't face your difficulties on your own. He doesn't want you to suffer. You're not alone, those who love you are with you.

He pulls out his violin, his bass, or even drags the entire goddamn piano into the kitchen if you ask, and fills the room with music and joy. The melody carries you to new lands, each note telling a different story. And Brook weaves them in a beautiful song just for you. Because you are worth it.

X. Jinbei

Without you having to say anything about your discomfort, Jinbei takes you out onto the deck, the sun warming your skin, the waves hitting the hull, the wind playing with your hair. You inhale deeply, filling your lungs with sea air. Here, the smell of food that made you want to throw up is replaced by the salt of the ocean.

You continue your meal on the deck together, in the calm and serenity so rare to your crew. Being outside does you the greatest good. You laugh every time the Sunny hits a wave stronger than the others and sea water splashes across the deck onto you. You think of suggesting that the crew have a picnic while the weather is still nice.

+ 1 Vivi

Vivi suggests that you learn to cook together. She's a princess, no one has ever let her hold a kitchen utensil. You have no excuse. You accept anyway. Getting permission to use the kitchen is easy, Vivi just has to bat her eyelashes, but actually cooking is another story. But you're allowed to make mistakes and Vivi always seems so surprised at your failures that it doesn't bother you.

With your friend, you slowly learn to cook and love the food you prepare. You even pretend not to notice when Vivi "subtly" makes you taste certain foods to take note of what is easier for you to eat. She even has a notebook. You think it's adorable.

+ 2 Yamato

Yamato makes everything around him fun. He has a vision of life so different from yours but more than anything it is his thirst for discovery that fascinates you. Every moment is an adventure and he never forgets to invite you to share them. He wants to spend them with you, have fun with you. Meals are no different.

He challenges you, trying to eat as fast as possible and competing with the biggest eaters in the crew. He keeps asking questions about everything, about the taste of food, about the method of preparation. Despite you, his curiosity gets the better of you, you want to know too. He makes eating fun, even when it's hard.

Fun fact, tonight I didn't want to eat but I told myself that Tony Tony Chopper would be disappointed with me if I didn't. So I ate. That's why fiction is so important, it has such a big impact on our lives. So I decided to write this little something with all the Straw Hats to help you eat if that's what you need one day. If you want me to continue this concept, with other characters, other fandoms or other situations, do not hesitate. I will be very happy to do so. Disclaimer: I did not write this story while envisioning someone with an eating disorder. So it's not an accurate representation because it's not meant to be one. I just tagged it so as not to trigger anyone. Also, I am not a healthcare professional. Take care of yourselves <3

[bangtansmauyeondan]

THIRTY-FIVE | S04 E03 — A Thousand Times Over

Pairing: In-Studio Director!Jungkook x Stage Director!Fem Reader

Genre: rivals au, social media au, frenemies to lovers, slow burn, fluff, smut, angst, crack.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: explicit language, mentions of abandonment, alcohol consumption, harmless scheming, dare, bet, smut

Summary: It has always been the battle of the best between you and your college rival, Jungkook. What happens when years later, you cross paths again working for the same network broadcasting company, and the competitive flame is rekindled? Well, a whole new drunken bet that determines your futures wasn’t in your line of vision but here you are… and you have until 35.

(A/N — Hello! Did you miss me? lol)

•••

You can’t believe it. Is this really happening? Are you really hosting dinner at home? You, who messed up something as simple as miyeokguk, are hosting dinner at home?

You don’t know where you got the guts from, but it’s definitely the result of another successful production, and Jungkook telling your close friends that dinner will be at yours over the weekend. By the time everyone has stopped cheering and exchanging high-fives, you have already agreed, smiling at them from ear to ear.

Jungkook helped you with the groceries the night before, and showed up at your doorstep bright and early this morning to get all the preparations done.

“Bun, it’s 7 am. Why are we doing this?” You whined while peeling a skinny piece of carrot, being careful not to peel your skin off in the process. You were sitting on a barstool, hunched over the kitchen island, only 80% awake. While your boyfriend moves around the kitchen confidently, mixing random spices and sauces for the marinade, and trimming the meat.

“We need to prepare everything now, so all the cooking will be easier later~” he answered in a singsong manner, turning around and busting out a move while humming to a song you don’t know. You can’t help but chuckle at what’s in front of you— your boyfriend in gray sweats and an oversized shirt, sleeves long enough that he was able to pull it down his hand and use it to handle a hot lid off the pot. He looks so soft and cozy, you almost want to leap off the stool and give him some cuddles.

“What are we making anyway?” You asked with curiosity, eyeing the vegetables and a piece of apple lined up in front of your “chopping line.”

“Suyuk and soondae gukbap. I need to start boiling the broth for the gukbap now, so it will be yummy tonight.” He nibbled on his bottom lip, doe eyes giving all the ingredients on the counter a once-over. “The rest— like the dakgalbi and samgyeopsal will be cooked over dinner, and everyone can participate.”

“Oooh. Is that something that a real chef would do?”

“I don’t know, I’m not one,” he grinned at you, nose all scrunching up as the grin turned into a giggle.

Two hours later, Jungkook has already marinated the chicken, dry-brined the slab of pork belly in the fridge, and got the bone broth simmering on the stove top. You, on the other hand, have organized all the chopped vegetables in ziploc bags, and tidied up the kitchen, making sure that everything is clean and ready to use for all the cooking later.

•••

The dinner party went well. Jungkook’s suyuk was a hit, to the point that he had to make another batch while everyone’s already crowding around the kitchen.

“Yah, Jungkook, you are insane!” Hoseok muttered between chewing. “This is so good, yah…” he gushed, picking his chopsticks back up and hugging another piece of pork with gat kimchi before stuffing his face with it.

“How did you make it?” Namjoon, also in awe of the taste, asked in curiosity. Deep down knowing that he won’t ever be able to even set foot in the kitchen to recreate it.

“I just followed the recipe!”

“Anyone up for some drinks?” Sohyun’s question worked everyone’s appetite even further up, and the food was demolished in no time.

“We should do this more often, it’s nice,” you told no one in particular. Yoongi agreed, topping up your glass. “Oh, thank you.”

“You did well, babe,” Jungkook slinked his arm around your shoulders and planted a kiss on your temple.

“I didn’t even cook!” You replied, flustered.

“Aye, you chopped all the vegetables. You did all the hard work,” Mingyu quipped. “Cooking is just putting it all together.

“You cleaned up too, YN. That’s crucial,” Hoseok added.

“Take the compliment, YN,” Namjoon snickered. “Remember when we went camping way back and I nicked my finger trying to peel a tiny potato? I am useless!”

Yoongi burst out laughing at the memory, “You had one job, dude. ONE JOB.”

The evening continued with more banter, stories, and laughter until Yoongi and Mingyu started a drinking game incorporated with a balance game. Two people will be asked to pick between two choices. If they match, they win. If they don’t, they take a shot. Hoseok and Sohyun have been winning back to back, so Yoongi decided to switch up the questions, zeroing in on you.

“I got a good one for you, YN…” Yoongi smirked.

“Okay…” You answered cautiously.

With a devilish grin and sharp eyes fleeting between you and Jungkook, Yoongi asked, “Would you rather kiss Jungkook for ten thousand won, or kiss a stranger for ten million won?”

Jungkook’s jaw dropped, “Yah, hyuuung…” Noticing your pause, he turned his head from Yoongi to you so fast, he could have had a whiplash, “Yah… is there something to think about?”

“Did the stranger brush his teeth?” You asked.

Jungkook gasped. “Why does it matter?” He asked you incredulously.

“Hmm… Let’s say, yes. He’s clean. Hygienic,” Yoongi nodded.

“Clean CLEAN? Like he goes to a dental hygienist clean?” You continued coaxing Yoongi for answers, completely ignoring Jungkook’s dagger eyes on the side of your face.

“Yeah, he regularly goes to the dentist and flosses three times a day,” Mingyu answered, almost toppling over his seat from laughing so hard at his bestfriend’s reaction.

“Shut the fuck up,” Jungkook picked up a piece of grape and threw it at Mingyu.

“Umm–”

You were cut off by Jungkook suddenly standing up from his seat to fish a crisp green banknote from his wallet and slamming it down on the table in front of you. “Baby, here’s ten thousand won, let’s go. Kiss me.” His facial expression, a mixture of amusement and drudgery.

The room erupted in laughter, with Hoseok literally falling on the floor and smacking Namjoon’s legs over and over trying to contain himself. “Aigoo, Jungkook-ah…”

“Can you give me ten million won?” You raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend.

“Can you give me one thousand kisses?” He challenged back.

“Yah, yah, yah…” Namjoon waved his hands at everyone. “Let’s skip this question, we don’t want to be the cause of your breakup!” He suggested playfully, still half-wheezing from laughing.

The game continued on, putting a different person on the spot, until everyone sobered up and have gotten ready to leave. Jungkook decided to stay the night, given it’s already almost midnight, and tomorrow is Sunday.

You were standing in the doorway of your house, waving Mingyu off when Jungkook nudged you on the side, “Check your phone.”

“Huh?” You leaned onto the doorframe, fishing your phone out of your pocket. Your eyes widen in surprise when you saw the notification, before staring back at a smugly smiling Jungkook. “What the fuck is this, Jeon?! Where did you get this? You’re crazy!”

“Oh, I’m Jeon again?” He snaked his arms around your waist and pulled you closer, pressing his forehead against yours. “Here and there. Work. Stocks.” His voice dangerously low and goosebump-inducing.

You instantly melted at your boyfriend’s touch, “Babe… You’re overre—“ Jungkook shut you up by capturing your bottom lip with his soft ones.

“One,” he whispered.

“Jungkook,” His name came out of your mouth in a breathy voice as your fingers curled on the collar of his jacket.

He pressed two more kisses on your lips, one after the other. “Three.”

“What…?”

Jungkook swiftly shifted your body away from the door, kicking it shut in the process, before lifting you over his shoulder and making you squeal.

“Let’s get you to bed. I’m cashing in the remaining nine hundred ninety-seven.”

•••

BONUS — The notification:

[mjrtaurus]

Garpi (Garp x Urpi) Headcanons!

(Some of these are gonna be me expanding on the ship meme ASDFGHJKL just bear with me.)

- Sleeping arrangements: she lays right on top of him, legs intertwined, head resting on his chest, face buried in his neck. She likes listening to his heartbeat and he likes holding her close 💗.

- Attire wise Garp sticks to his Marine issued sleepwear before Urpi reminds him this isn’t a Marine base. Now he just wears the pants alone. Urpi to her credit wears backless tops and long flowy pants which Garp loves because it means easy access to kiss the spot right between her wings and feel them fluff up against his cheeks

- Garp's nicknames for Urpi: Dove, Sweetheart, Darling, Angel (she always interject that last one. If she was an angel, wasn’t she technically the fallen kind? All said with a cheeky grin.)

- Urpi's nicknames for Garp: My Dear, My Love, Wayllushka (My Beloved), Chatashka (Lover), Vice Admiral (only in the most formal or informal of settings, no in-betweens)

- In some alternative reality where Garp hadn’t proposed in that moment, they would have parted ways with this aching feeling in their chests, like something was missing (Thankfully Bogard would have had the foresight to pack a Den Den Mushi with her belongings. Y'know, just in case).

- Their wedding rings were simple bands. His being silver and her's being gold. Due to how often they use their hands though more often than not these rings can be found looped through necklaces.

- Contrary to popular belief Garp can cook…but only in the most rustic campfire of settings. But him in any semblance of a real kitchen and the counters are covered in vegetable peels and half opened cans, the sink is overflowing and dousing the floor and he’s covered in flour. He’s laughing as Urpi asks him what he was trying to even make. The answer? Tea.

- Garp loves having Urpi with him at work! His favourite is sitting his wife in his lap while he does his paperwork! Urpi doesn’t agree to it often, mostly because she knows he won’t actually get any work done.

- Yknow that running joke in the Addams Family that Gomez can’t hear Morticia speak a word of French without compulsively exclaiming how much he loves when she does and plants kisses up her arm? Yeah that’s Garpi to a T (if you replace French for Quechua.)

- Whenever they can, they eat their meals together. Of course this isn’t always possible so when they’re too far apart to sit at the same table, they take to just calling each other during lunch and dinner.

- Garp made sure teach Urpi all the classics…of tabletop and card games! Shogi, Old Maid, South Blue Hold Em and his personal favourite Go! Put on a tea kettle and you can distract these two for a good couple hours as they lose themselves in playful trash talk

- Everytime Garp has to go on a mission, Urpi makes him promise to come back to her safe and sound. He always laughs it off, saying he’s strong! There’s no need to worry! But, she chimes in, that doesn’t make him invincible and that she wants to worry about. He’d nod, say he'll be back soon and they seal that promise with a kiss.

- Urpi loved Displays of Affection. In public? Still doable she’d suppose. Amongst the public? Her face turns bright red at the thought! Unfortunately Garp considers her ‘too cute to not love on’ at each and every given opportunity.

- Neither of them had been in relationships before, mostly because they were too busy trying to save other people to worry about themselves. Garp atleast had a semblance of an idea: a wife, a kid and a house somewhere peaceful but it was all in vague blobs, there but never truly existing. It had never come into clearer view than it had that day he snuck into the cargo hold.

- While they do match each other's freak [can you tell I’ve never written smut before] they’re still blushing virgins on their wedding night, barely able to look one another in the eye. Thankfully they communicate (!) and agree to just sleep all snuggled and giggly. The next morning they fuck.

- When Urpi had disappeared, Garp had interrogated almost every resident of the Goa Kingdom but no one knew where she. Those who had try to sell her off to the Celestial Dragons even boldly claimed that a woman like that had never lived here. He had wanted to hurt them but was called back to Marineford. For months afterwards he scoured every ship, tapped any calls, practically ripped the talons of the News Coos just a glimpse of her.

- Their song: If Ever You're In My Arms Again by Peabo Bryson (if you listen closely you can faintly hear it playing when they reunite on Elbaf)

Taking these and adding a few of my own, more family interactions/oriented things more than anything, since Urpi is still very much still forming in my mind and writing stuff down helps me play connect-the-dots with her history.

The second the words “Vice Admiral” leave Urpi’s lips, Dragon and Kuzan are out of the house. Some things are better left unheard for them.

Urpi once caught a teenaged Dragon trying to sneak back in after having snuck out to visit a guy he was fucking around with. After he got chewed out for being out so late (and not for being with another guy, thank the seas), Garp took him aside and said “that tree by your bedroom window? It’s sturdy enough to climb up and down it. You and your fella be safe about it, alright?”

Urpi taught Dragon how to read and make quipu, which is a numerical record keeping system that uses a series of knots and strings rather than a writing system. She uses it to keep track of her vegetable garden yields, Dragon later uses it in the FF/RA to keep a secure record of supplies, finances, and troops. Kuzan and mathematics don’t get along, so he didn’t express any interest in learning. He keeps his mouth shut whenever the marines find them on the Revs they kill or imprison. Garp tried. Couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Gave up.

Dragon’s Amaru form can get a little too wooly with time, which constitutes the occasional shearing. Ed and Viggo love the treatment, so there is thankfully no resistance from the chimeric heads. Urpi takes the wool, spins it into yarn, rolls the yarn into skeins, dyes the skeins, and knits some lovely things for her boys (and girl, once Robin is able to reconnect with her estranged family).

Speaking of Robin, she learned that her father was Dragon during her time with the Revolutionaries. Baltigo looks bitter cold, but in the summer it’s beyond scorching. She saw Dragon without his cloak or his jacket for the first time in the summer of her first year there. She saw his wings. She remembered he had said he knew Olvia. She remembers- very, very faintly- that her papa had wings. When she asked, he confirmed. He hadn’t told her yet because he wanted her to have plenty of time to settle before that bombshell was dropped. He doesn’t tell her that he was afraid that it would make her bolt.

Once everything is said and done, the WG is nothing but an ugly memory, Luffy is the Pirate King, and the foundation for a better world has been set, Dragon brings Robin and Luffy to Elbaf to meet their grandparents. One new grandparent for Luffy, at least. Kuzan and Crocodile decide to stay behind. Their history with Robin would cause a lot of tension she didn’t deserve.

[badbatchposts]

Quiet Corners of the Galaxy, Chapter 11

While on a routine mission for Cid, the Bad Batch encounter a woman fleeing from the Empire. Crosshair suspects her seemingly free-spirited, nomadic existence is actually a cover for something else, but struggles to keep his attraction toward her in check as their personalities and ideals clash.

Relevant tags/content warnings: Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Periodic Smut, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use

Chapters posted 1-2x weekly!

Read the full fic so far on AO3

Read previous chapters on Tumblr: Ch. 1 l Ch. 2 l Ch. 3 l Ch. 4 l Ch. 5 l Ch. 6 l Ch. 7 l Ch. 8 l Ch. 9 l Ch. 10

Chapter 11 summary: Dara and Crosshair return to town to get more intel, and Crosshair has a creative way of maintaining their cover when a few people get suspicious.

It was late afternoon by the time Dara returned to camp. Tech and Wrecker were stationed near the villa, finishing out their turn on surveillance, while Hunter and Echo rested outside the Marauder. Crosshair, it seemed, had returned before her—she had lost sight of him in the trees almost immediately—but was now sprawled on top of the ship, looking through the scope of his rifle into the distance. She gestured toward him after greeting the others.

“He tell you we’re going back later?”

Echo nodded. “He’s in a bad mood about it.”

“Big surprise.”

Hunter smiled a little. “Hope he didn’t drive you too crazy. What’s all this, then?” he asked, peaking into her basket.

“Dinner. How about you put those knife skills to use. These all need to be rinsed and then chopped.” Dara began unloading her supplies while Hunter and Echo looked at her with surprise. She raised an eyebrow. “What? We needed a reason to be in town, and I don’t like living exclusively on ration bars and dehydrated meals when I can help it.”

“She dug some of those out of the dirt,” Crosshair offered unhelpfully from his nest.

Dara rolled her eyes. “This may shock you, but that’s actually where food comes from.” Hunter gave the tubers a skeptical sniff. “Those need to be cooked before they’re digestible,” she warned. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

She put them to work quickly in the Marauder’s tiny galley, chopping the vegetables and herbs she had purchased at the market as well as the fungi, then mixing seasonings and liquids into the mixture before cooking it down to create a filling. Hunter peeled and chopped the tubers with characteristic ease, vibroblade moving nearly faster than the eye could track it. At Dara’s instructions, Echo boiled and mashed them before they were mixed with a fluffy yellow powder to create a dough. She demonstrated to Hunter how to wet his hands and form the dough around the filling, creating neat little balls that they passed along to Echo to steam in batches. A pleasant smell, equal parts meaty, vegetal, and bready, began to fill the Marauder as they cooked.

At some point Crosshair’s nosiness won out over his aloofness, and he climbed down off the ship to sit in a corner and watch them, occasionally offering his snide commentary on his brothers’ culinary skills. Between rude remarks, he considered Dara carefully, although she resolutely ignored him, sparing him not a single glance. The foraging seemed to support her story of living off-the-grid, although that was also a field survival skill that the batch was reasonably familiar with. She seemed to be at ease cooking, dropping a bit of her guard and the charm that she used to disguise it, and her interactions with Hunter and Echo were amiable more than anything, although Crosshair’s jaw tensed occasionally at the way she had to brush past Hunter when moving about the tight galley.

When everything was prepared, Dara set out the tray of steaming buns on the table. “Alright, that’s it. Dig in,” she instructed, grabbing one in her fingers and taking a generous bite. Echo and Hunter eagerly helped themselves, extolling the virtues of Dara’s foraging skills and cooking lessons as they savored them. Even Crosshair let out a begrudging grunt of approval, which finally drew Dara’s attention to him.

“You didn’t contribute,” Dara pointed out to him critically.

He gave her a smug look. “I provided entertainment and moral support.”

She fixed him with a glare. “I think I should go back alone later. It’s important for us to try to get more information on Prium and the villa, and people find you unpleasant to be around.”

Crosshair raised one eyebrow. “People?”

“Me. I find you unpleasant to be around.” However Dara had managed to hold in her irritation since getting back, it now seemed to be breaking through.  

“Dinner was good, but you still have to take him,” Hunter interrupted, rising from the table. “We’ll make it up to you.”

“Oh? Will you?” Dara instantly shifted moods, smiling up flirtatiously at the Sergeant. He gave her a wink and a chuckle in response.

Echo gathered up the remaining food to take to Tech and Wrecker as they swapped shifts. “Next time we do this, I get to go to town and hang out in a bar with Dara, and Crosshair can go on the boring stake-out all night,” he grumbled.

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” she replied charmingly.

Hunter and Echo departed, leaving the pair alone again. Crosshair looked at her carefully. “You haven’t forgotten about our little conversation the other night, have you?” His voice was quiet, casually venomous.

Dara got up, removing their pistols from the basket, and fitting hers into the concealed holster between her shoulder blades before handing the other to him to hide on his person. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

***

The bar was more crowded than Crosshair would have liked, and he had the sneaking suspicion that it was because there was little else to do in the town. The guards that he had noticed outside the lab earlier were there, celebrating the end of their shifts with a green, frothing beverage that reminded Crosshair of swamp water. A few of the other patrons also appeared to be lab workers, judging by their uniforms; they clustered together in small groups, looking nearly as glum as he felt. He would have much preferred surveillance duty. At least it would be quiet.

The lab director had been conversing engagingly with Dara from the moment they had arrived, hardly bothering to feign interest in her fake husband. “So, what sort of projects are you working on now? Anything exciting?” Dara inquired.

Raab tapped the side of his pudgy nose—a little too flirtatiously, for Crosshair’s tastes—in response to her query. “Ah ah, I’m afraid that’s sensitive information. Although I can hint that some of our recent work promises to be quite crucial for the galaxy. Galactic safety and security, even.”

“Of course! We would be nothing without scientific progress. And—forgive me, but is it true what they say about Dr. Prium? I’ve heard he’s quite a visionary.” Crosshair thought he saw a stormy expression momentarily cross Raab’s face at that comment. Dara’s eyes were calculating; it hadn’t escaped her notice, either.

“Yes, yes,” Raab said, a little huffily. “We owe a great deal to our founder. He’s a brilliant man.”

Dara leaned in conspiratorially and rested a hand on Raab’s arm, ready to exploit the employee’s apparent resentment toward his boss. “Without a doubt. But I think we all know that so often the people at the top love to take the credit and pass the blame. So I just wondered if he’s as incredible as they say he is. I’m sure many people at the company are integral to its accomplishments. You direct an entire lab, after all.”

Raab preened a little under the woman’s attentions and chortled. “I must admit, Prium can be something of an eccentric. And very protective of his research. A bit paranoid, if you ask me, hardly trusts anyone.”

“Paranoid? Surely not. He must trust you, after all, you’re his right hand!”

Crosshair thought that she was laying it on a little thick, but sure enough, the Sullustan puffed up proudly and not a little arrogantly.

“Indeed! I daresay I’m the only one in the company who’s ever been to his home lab,” Raab boasted. Perhaps he was even dumber than he looked. 

Dara’s feigned confusion, drawing her eyebrows prettily together. “Home lab? But he has a top-tier facility right here in town, with a full staff.”

“Ah, yes, but he prefers to take on some of our special projects alone. Top secret, you know? He won’t even let his maids clean up after him down there, has to do it all himself! Can you imagine?”

Dara had the conversation well in-hand, and Crosshair allowed his attention to wander. She was good at getting people to talk, and he wondered, yet again, what it was that she was hiding behind all that carefulness. Since their confrontation the other night, she seemed controlled by an iron will; although she had protested against his involvement in her part of the mission, she had mostly just ignored him, not rising to his needling remarks, no rage or frustration peeking out beneath her mask. Irritation, yes, but she seemed dead set on not reacting, especially not in front of the rest of the Batch. She was getting along well with them; the dinner stunt had ingratiated her with Echo and Hunter, and no doubt Wrecker and Tech would be similarly impressed.

He needed to find a more efficient way to break her.

With a malicious smirk, Crosshair took advantage of Raab’s momentary distraction from the conversation as he greeted one of his passing employees and pulled Dara into his lap. She didn’t have time to protest discreetly before Raab’s attention returned.

“Hunter. What’s gotten into you?” Dara scolded lightly. She swatted at his chest, giving him a severe look which she transformed into apologetic before directing it at Raab.

“Young lovers! Can’t keep their hands off one another,” the Sullustan said, directing a sordid look at the both of them which raised Crosshair’s hackles. He didn’t like Raab imagining what the pair of pretend newlyweds might be getting up to in their private time.

Squirming a little, Dara continued the conversation with the scientist as Crosshair idly rubbed one possessive hand along her thigh, relishing her warmth under his palm. For a moment he was even grateful to be out of his armor and in civilian clothes; he could feel every shift she made, every slight shiver and reaction to his touch as her body pressed against his. Glancing around the bar, he noticed the guards from the lab were staring at them and glared back until they looked away uncomfortably. When he traced his fingers up to the nape of Dara’s neck, she finally broke off her chat with Raab.

“Well, I think we had better get going, since Hunter can’t seem to behave any longer. Thank you so much, Doctor, it’s been a lovely time.”

The scientist looked at her seriously, then grasped her outstretched hand, unexpectedly raising it to his lips to brush a kiss across her knuckles. “The pleasure was all mine. How wonderful to meet such an enthusiastic mind.”

Lifting Dara off his lap, Crosshair stood and nodded coolly at the Sullustan, and they exited the bar. The second they were in the moist, open air, Dara reached over and pinched his arm.

“What the hell was that,” she hissed.

He shrugged, mentally resolving to get her back for the pinch as soon as possible. Perhaps with a pinch elsewhere, somewhere it would make her jump. “We got what we needed.”

“I could have gotten more.”

“Yes, I’m sure you could have spent the whole night flirting. Would you have preferred me to leave so you could get on your knees for him and see what else he’d tell you?” That had done it; she was furious, clenching a fist like she was barely keeping herself from hitting him.

“You kriffing—” she began explosively, but Crosshair interrupted her, hauling her into the dark entrance of a closed business and pressing her up against the door. Before she could keep talking, he kissed her hard, memorizing the surprised squeak she made with enormous satisfaction.

“Eyes on us,” he breathed into her ear when she broke away. “Lab guards from the bar.” A shared glance told him that she understood before she pressed her mouth back against his, throwing her arms over his shoulders and running her fingers along the back of his neck and scalp.

Hungrily—there was no reason for him not to enjoy this while he could—he pried his tongue between her lips, deepening the kiss, smirking at how she let him in to explore her mouth with barely any resistance. That wasn’t to say she was hesitant; in fact, her tongue met his eagerly, vying to taste him back with an intensity that shot a pulse like electricity straight to his hardening cock.

Crosshair nibbled her bottom lip, sliding his hands down her waist and along the curves of her hips, then pulled away to suckle at the crook of her neck, grazing his teeth along the delicate skin. Oh, how badly he had wanted this, to have the chance to pick her apart.

“Oh, Hunter,” Dara moaned a little more loudly than necessary. Fury swelled up in him to hear her saying his brother’s name yet again, goading him with it. Baring his teeth, he bit down harshly at her throat. He was hoping to hear another of those little squeaks, but having no such luck, he ran one hand along her ass and thigh before hitching her leg up at the knee to wrap around his waist and press her tightly to his erection.

“You’re going to pay for this,” she murmured. Crosshair exulted in the venom in her voice, enjoying it almost as much as the way she couldn’t resist pushing a little closer to grind his hard length against her center.

“So will you, burk’yc.” He trailed his lips down to her collarbone, tugging the top of her shirt down a few inches to expose more of her flesh to his attentions.

“Not here, darling,” Dara giggled, the malice back under control. “Why don’t we take a walk to somewhere more private?” Smiling wickedly at her, Crosshair let her leg drop to the ground and, keeping one hand controllingly grasped around the nape of her neck, led her through the dark streets in the opposite direction of the Marauder.

“Still watching?” she muttered a few moments later as they entered the forest surrounding town.

“They gave up following a few minutes ago, but we should take a roundabout way back to be sure.” Dara swatted at his hand when he made no move to release her.

He watched her slyly and let her go, inserting a toothpick in his mouth. She was seething, barely keeping her anger in check. Lovely, he thought.

“You couldn’t think of any other way to deal with that situation?” she finally spat out.

“Don’t forget, you’re the one who started all this, burk’yc,” he crowed.  

“Oh, but you’re certainly the only one who enjoyed it.”

With his keen eyesight, Crosshair could tell she was grinding her teeth, but he knew it was too dark for her to detect his smug look in turn. “Just like how I’m going to enjoy how you try to explain that pretty new bitemark on your neck to Hunter,” he replied.  

This time, when Dara pulled her knife, she was threatening him. The darkness was his ally as he deftly disarmed her, catching her by the elbow just as she stumbled over a tree root.

“Kriffing kark. I can’t see shit out here,” she huffed. Shaking out of his grasp, she pulled a flashlight out of her pack and marched off, not once checking to see if he followed.

***

That kriffing asshole. She was going to kill him. As soon as they were back to Ord Mantell, she was going to kill him and leave before his brothers could get their revenge on her. She would have to make it quick—without the element of surprise she doubted she would be able to take him down and then of course she wouldn’t have the time to spend flaying every bit of his skin off or engaging in all the other various and sundry forms of torture he deserved, but still, she was going to kill him.

And before she did that, she was definitely going to fuck Hunter and make sure he knew all about it.

Dara tried to slow her breathing, unclench her fists and jaw. She was laying on the nose of the Marauder, staring up at the stars, trying to recognize the shapes they took on this unfamiliar planet, connect them into new, mysterious geometries, create neat little polygons to shove her thoughts into—one of the many rituals she’d created to help tamp down her emotions when they threatened to burst out of her like a dam breaking. If she couldn’t quiet her mind, she’d never get to sleep, and tomorrow they were supposed to make their plan for infiltrating the villa.

Speaking of which, that smarmy Sullustan had given her a bad feeling. Whatever it was that the lab was working on, she had yet to hear of something considered essential for galactic security under the Empire that wasn’t terrible news.

And she could have found out more, if it weren’t for that kriffing asshole.

That asshole, who had taken every opportunity today to touch her (and she must really be touch-starved from living alone so long, his hands on her had felt so good) then accused her—not for the first time—of planning on sleeping with someone to get something out of them, then the kiss (his mouth was so hungry, he was a better kisser than she’d imagined) and his closeness (kark, when she’d felt that pressed up against her she’d nearly forgotten where they were) and he’d left a bruise on her for anyone to see, the controlling little—

She was going to scream if she kept thinking about this. Which was exactly what he wanted. To drive her insane.

She was going to kill him.

Next chapter

Tag List: @stardusthuntress @skellymom @megmegalodondon

A quick note on my posting schedule! Work is pretty busy right now and, although I have a lot more of the fic written, I've skipped ahead a bit in my drafting so this is the last complete chapter I have in order, which means I need to dedicate some time to filling in the gaps. This means that the posting schedule will likely slow down from twice a week--I'll still try to post once a week or once every two weeks to keep things going at a regular pace!

In the meantime, I really appreciate comments for encouragement and hope you're enjoying it!

[jungwnies]

when love lasts ♡ 2 〰・unmentioned・〰

table of contents | next

previously...

"Y/n!" your mom shouts from the kitchen as you quickly rush out of the bathroom, freshened up.

"Yes?" you answer as you fix your hair into a ponytail.

"Can you go to the supermarket? I need stuff for dinner later," your mom asks, handing you money and a list of all the ingredients you need. "Go with your sister because Jaemin and your father are going out fishing."

You grab the list and money and nod, yelling for your sister to come downstairs.

Your sister quickly comes downstairs. "Ready?"

You nod, and you and your sister leave, deciding to walk to the market.

"Where's Jaemin?" she asks as she scrolls on her phone and you pick the vegetables.

"I don't know, somewhere fishing with Appa or something," you tell her as you stuff the vegetables in the basket.

You make your way over to the meat section. Besides you is a tall boy in a black mask. "Excuse me," you politely say.

"Oh, sorry," you hear him say as he moves over.

You look at the boy and smile. "Wait."

"Y/n?" he asks, shocked.

"Soobin?!?" you blurt out a little loudly, gathering the attention of everyone in the aisle with you.

—

Soobin, your first childhood friend to reconnect with, and he was right there in front of you.

Your sister looks at the two of you awkwardly. "I'm going to go look for snacks," she says, walking away, still on her phone.

You and Soobin give each other hugs and talk shortly about life and your careers.

"It's actually been so long, this is insane," you tell him as you walk together, trying to find your sister in the aisles.

"Yeah, I ran into your sister two days ago, and she told me you were coming back," he tells you.

"How come you're here shopping?" you ask.

Soobin laughs. "My mom said we shouldn't show up to your place later empty-handed, so I was buying some groceries."

You laugh. "Your mom is so thoughtful, but there's no need for that. My mom is making me buy things so she can prepare a whole feast for you guys."

You eventually find your sister, who has managed to fill a whole basket with snacks, and you make your way to the cashier.

"Let me pay for the groceries," Soobin says, pulling his mask back up before the cashier can see him.

You shake your head. "No, no, no, it's okay. This is too much," you tell him, reaching for the cash your mom gave you.

Soobin pulls out his card and cuts you off in line. "I insist. It's already so nice that your mom is even cooking for us tonight."

You give in, and Soobin pays for the groceries as your sister helps you stuff them into the grocery bags.

The three of you leave the store and walk back home together. You see your dad's car in the driveway, and you get a little excited. Jaemin and Soobin only knew of each other but were never friends.

You walk into the house, and Soobin greets your dad, who is sitting on the couch watching TV. Your mom is in the kitchen, and you can hear the shower running, assuming Jaemin just got in to remove the fishy stench.

You walk to the kitchen with Soobin holding the groceries, and your mom looks at you both excitedly. She gives Soobin a big hug, and Soobin laughs. "Oh my god! You have grown so much; you're so tall!" Your mom grins as you put the groceries on the table.

"Y/n! If you told me Soobin was going to be stopping by a little earlier, I would've made a small snack for him," your mom scolds, smiling widely at Soobin.

—

Soobin decides to stay for a while to catch up with your mom and help her peel vegetables and cut things up as you also help your mom.

You hear the familiar footsteps coming down the stairs. You see Jaemin walk into the kitchen and look at the tall boy who is sitting beside you.

You look over at Jaemin and motion for him to come over. "Come here, I want you guys to meet each other."

Soobin looks at you, confused, and whispers, "Isn't that Jaemin from NCT?"

You nod and whisper back, "Yeah, that's my boyfriend."

Jaemin bows slightly at Soobin. "Soobin-ssi, it's nice to meet you."

Soobin bows his head slightly and smiles. "It's nice to meet you too."

"I never knew Y/n had a boyfriend," Soobin says to Jaemin, grabbing your attention.

"I'm sure I mentioned it at the grocery store," you say, smiling.

Jaemin looks at you, displeased. "You guys went out together?"

2024 © jungwnies

[draconicfool]

@xianzhou-craftsman asked: Yingxing is sitting in the kitchen of Jing Yuan's their home, cutting vegetables and doing all other sorts of manageable cooking chores Eros assigns him while his small, pink partner is doing the actual... cooking parts. They're working together in amicable silence, and that has Yingxing thoughtful. "E- Shoi-Ming," he starts, gaze fixed on the carrot he is peeling, "I've been wondering. What did make you go from 'I'll lock the bedroom door to keep you out' to 'actually I want to date you' overnight? You really did throw me off quite a bit then."

     For a moment or two, the question seems to hang in the air. The flicking and swiveling of his ears are the only show that he heard him. And for a moment, he stops what he's doing. “ It wasn't overnight. ” As if that's a simple enough answer to leave it on. Like Yingxing needs no more response than that. But perhaps that breeds even more questions, then, doesn't it? Truthfully, Eros didn't understand it himself. How they'd gone from being at each other's throats to – well, this. Suppose in a way – had they not been similar from the beginning? Unsure of the other's place in the life they'd made with Jing Yuan. Unsure of what that meant – of how they could coexist at all.

     He knew that's where he'd been. For the vidyadhara was – perhaps overly prone to bouts of jealousy. And at first there had been some fear that her place could be taken easily by a face from the past. And yet at every turn he had proven again and again that his fixture in Yuan's life was different yet similar. Of equal importance. Someone that made her beloved happy in a way that she realized she simply couldn't. How was someone not to be jealous of that? Of a history had together. And then came that night – when Eros had been scared out of their mind and it had been Yingxing who was there to comfort and understand him. 

     Perhaps it had all started there. At an attempt to truly understand Eros. Her own attempt to understand Yingxing.

     And the more that she understood… the more she found that her feelings changed. That a quiet tolerance sparked and ignited into something more personal. Into… well, into something quite like love. 

     She brings the spoon up to Yingxing's mouth, to make him taste what they've been working on together. Those gears in her head turning as she tries to find the words to describe everything that's going through her mind. All the things she wishes to tell him.

     “ Not many people tend t' give me th' chance t' be… m'self, let's say. But you did. And y'continue t' do so… tell me how ‘m not supposed t’ fall in love with someone who puts an effort forth time and time again t' listen and understand. Who proves that his devotion c'n be as deep as an ocean… even if sometimes he's an insufferably arrogant piece of work. Now – he's my insufferably arrogant piece of work. ”

unprompted <3

[dirtbag-linecook-kyloren]

crested over 4k today and then husband and cats came into the office

I don’t think I can be blamed for getting distracted. Tomorrow we’ll hit 20k, I’ve got the first four scene done and I’m gonna try to chip away more at the first act tomorrow to try and get it acceptable to post but have the soup scene, which in my head is serving as the counterpoint to the orange juice scene.

---

When Hux opens the door to Ben’s house, trying to ignore how warm he feels, being told not to knock, Ben is standing at his island, gloved hands tearing a chicken breast apart as he frowns at it. He sets his backpack down, ignoring the essay he has to work on, and comes to wrap his arms around Ben from behind, leaning around broad shoulders so Hux can watch him work. “I wanted chicken noodle soup,” Ben tells him, as if that explains everything. His silence must make clear his confusion, because Ben continues. “Normally, pressure cooking the chicken with apple cider vinegar is enough to let me shred the chicken with my hand mixer, but this breast was too thick, I don’t think the liquid got all the way through the muscle fibers.” Hux nods, like he understands, and kisses Ben’s shoulder as he pulls away, coming to sit at what Hux thinks of as his seat, right across from Ben’s cutting board. “They sell soup in a can,” Hux points out, hoping for a pained look to cross Ben’s face, and instead, he just shrugs his shoulders. “That’s for when you’re sick,” he says. “The nostalgia heals you faster, I think. Or maybe they put antibiotics in the broth? Either way, I’m not sick, so I’ll have to settle for homemade.” On the counter, Hux sees a ball of dough, and wonders if Ben is putting all this effort into food, so he doesn’t have to do something else, and he asks as much. Ben grimaces, setting the chicken to the side. “Is it that obvious?” he asks, grabbing a bowl of vegetables and setting them next to his board before grabbing an onion from inside and peeling of the first few layers. “Yesterday was inventory. Dad wants the totals by the morning, so we can run reports. I’m avoiding all the math.” With a laugh, Hux rests his chin on his hand, letting himself just lean on the counter and look at Ben. There’s a still healing burn on his cheek from changing the fryer oil. Hux had put the mustard on it himself, making it clear to Ben there was no medical reason for it to work, and agreeing to smear it anyway. He’s wearing a tank top, and Hux sees scars he hasn’t heard the stories of yet, burns and scrapes, evidence of years in the kitchen. Even at home, he’s wearing gloves, but under them, Hux knows his nails are neatly trimmed and cleaned, a habit he kept from his previous restaurant. When he finally makes it back to Ben’s face, brown eyes are staring back at him, an amused tilt on Ben’s lips. “Shut up,” Hux replies to the unsaid comments, feeling the heat pool in his cheeks and his chest. “I have to work on my essay again tonight, you should do it while I slave away at my keyboard and pray my motherboard hangs on another day.” “Maybe,” Ben says as he moves on to chopping the carrots. “But first, soup. Well, pre-soup. Soon to be soup.” “Pre-soup feels like a dirty word,” Hux says, stealing a piece off the board faster than Ben can swat his hand away. “Like some new term the teenagers have made up that we’re all supposed to be too old to know.” “You’re twenty-four,” Ben points out, and Hux leans back in his seat, putting a hand on his forehead. “I have one foot practically in the grave, then,” he insists. “It’s a good thing you made soup, as I’m soon to be on my death bed.” Annoyed, Ben throws a piece of onion at him. Hux dodges it, lets it hit the floor and laughs. “Look at the mess you made.” He stands dramatically, making a show out of picking the debris up and throwing it into the trash can. When he turns around, Ben is standing there, holding a hand out. Following, he steps into Ben’s arms and lets himself be led as they sway around the living room. “There’s no music,” he points out quietly, resting his head on Ben’s chest. “Does there have to be?” No, Hux supposes as he closes his eyes. He can hear the song just fine without it.

[btnclmrttn]

hello! i just need to get this outta my system but CAN YOU IMAGINE COOKING WITH SAITAMA LIKEEEEEE MANNNN unghh, doing the groceries, and cooking and stuff. and doing the dishes and being all domestic like ugnh im meltingggg

Would highlight my life fr fr

Even while you two were just friend's it was basically mandatory you had to come along on shopping trips. It was his best excuse to spend time with you

Always hanging over you about deals or cheaper items. Don't you dare put anything on brand in the basket

He's much more motivated to cook when it's with/for you. That's something he's very good at, and loves showing off his skill. Cooking for you is a way he shows he loves you.

There's hardly anything he could make that actually would taste bad. He does work with meats more than not, so if you're vegan or vegetarian he'll put in more effort to make nice meals for you.

If you're a good cook or even better than him he would be constantly hovering your shoulder, but subtly. Play it off as hugging from behind with some little kisses.

He'd do that even if you sucked but you get the point. Less kisses more "what are you doing? I don't think that's how you do it"

He wouldn't tell you it sucks though. He doesn't want to discourage you too much or you wouldn't be motivated to learn and improve

You, him and Genos make meal plans/days who is cooking

Even if it's you're turn he'll still come and help. He can chop and peel vegetables super fucking fast if need be, or help start some dishes. He's the kind to do dishes as he goes so there's only a few when he's finished eating.

And he'd love if you came and did the same, especially dishes, or pester him by sitting on the counter or holding onto him. Either way is perfect

He CANNOT. C A N N O T. Bake for the life of him. That's a whole other ball game. He'd rather not indulge on his sweet tooth but if you can bake things he will sample every thing and more

Genos would otherwise be the best baker

[mammonsbby]

Love at First... Bite?

This is the sixth part of my “when he knew he loved you” series.

Lucifer | Mammon | Levi | Satan | Asmo | Beel | Belphie Diavolo | Barbatos | Solomon | Simeon | Luke

✨My Masterlist✨

Warnings: Cursing, food mention Pairing: Beelzebub x GN!MC Words: 2069 (nice)

7:13pm, at the House of Lamentation

It’s nearing dinnertime. Not that that truly matters, because Beel is always hungry. However, it is now almost time for an actual sit-down-as-a-family meal. And you’re on cooking duty.

He loves when it’s your day to cook. You let him sit in the kitchen with you while you work. And occasionally give him things to do to help. Even though he’s something of a liability when it comes to preparing food.

You’ve assured him that you don’t mind if he snacks on this or that while you’re cooking. It’s no big deal, everyone snacks while they cook, right?

Tonight, you’re making your favorite soup. It’s quite simple, but hearty and full of flavor. You’ve got the meat cooked and the broth is simmering on the stovetop. What you need to do now is chop the vegetables.

You turn to grab a cutting board and when you turn back around, you see Beelzebub about to take a piece of beef out of the pan.

Caught in the act, he freezes, eyes on you. Then he retracts his hand. “I’m sorry, MC.”

“Sorry for what?” you smile as you take a piece for yourself. Once you pop it into your mouth, you push the skillet toward him. “Help yourself. Just be sure to leave some for the stew, ‘kay?”

His eyebrows knit together at your words. Is this a trap?

“It’s good, I promise,” you say, pushing it even closer to him.

Finally, he takes a sliver of meat and when he drops it into his mouth, he’s amazed. It’s delicious. Easily one of the best things he’s ever tasted. How the fuck is it always so good when you cook?

“Well?” you ask, one brow cocked as you dust your hands off on a kitchen towel.

“It is good,” he confirms before taking another, smaller piece this time.

You haven’t told him this and you never intend to, because maybe it’s weird. Or it might make him feel bad. But, you always buy twice what you need when you have cooking duty.

Just so he can sit with you and snack while you cook.

You smile at him as you go to start peeling the potatoes. Once you’re through, you take to chopping them. You hand him a hunk of raw potato. And when he gives you a look, you eat a piece yourself.

“You like to eat raw potatoes?” he asks, concerned.

“I mean, it’s better with salt, but sure. It’s not like it’s a turnip,” you say, face twisting into disgust.

He chuckles at your logic and eats the vegetable. This process continues for the carrots and onions and celery. And finally, everything is in the pot.

“Well,” you start with a sigh, “now to sit and stare till it’s done.”

Beel nods, then reaches for another piece of carrot, only to come up empty. You notice the disappointment on his face. Luckily, you’re fucking prepared.

“Or… we can make dessert? I have a cake mix and some whipped cream and strawberries?”

“Sure.” he nods in reply. When you’re about to get things together for the cake, Satan enters.

“You let Beel in the kitchen while you’re cooking?” he asks.

You turn to give him a glare that Beelzebub can’t see, “yes of course. He’s a good helper.”

Beel smiles behind you. Come to think of though, he’s done nothing but eat the things you’ve prepared the entire time.

“Er, what are we having?” Satan asks.

“Beef stew. And... cake!” you say, waving the cake mix at him.

“That sounds nice. I’ll get out of your way. I just came down to get something,” he says, suspiciously taking a small saucer and a spoon from the cupboards.

“Uh, what’re you doing with that?” Beel asks.

“Uh…” Satan pokes his head out of the room, looking in both directions, before pulling out a small tin from his coat.

“Another cat?” you ask, instantly recognizing the can.

He puts a finger to his lips and nods. “Don’t tell Lucifer,” he says, before sneaking out of the kitchen back up to his room.

Once his older brother is gone, Beel sighs, “MC. You know, if I get on your nerves, I can go to my room.”

“Huh?”

He sighs, “I mean, I’m not stupid. I know it’s aggravating having to deal with me.”

“That’s not true!” you argue. But from the look on his face, you can tell he’s not convinced. “Beel, I don’t know if you noticed, but I literally ate twice as many potatoes as you.”

“But—”

“I like cooking with you, okay?” you pause for a moment to look into his eyes. “And as far as your sin. I just… I can’t imagine how it must feel. Like… all the time? I’m never gonna get mad at you for needing to eat. That’s ridiculous.”

Beelzebub merely fiddles with his necklace.

“Also,” you continue, “I was thinking that maybe we could get a mini fridge to put in your room. That way you wouldn’t have to come down here in the middle of the night when you feel snacky.” You look up at him and he’s still playing with his pendant.

“I mean, it probably doesn’t bother you, but it’s so fucking dark and creepy around here at night. I swear sometimes I feel like something is following me.” You shudder at the thought of anything that could be lurking around in the shadows.

“Following you?” he asks. Of course he latches on to that part.

“Yeah,” you answer, before starting to cut the tops off the strawberries. “I’m probably just paranoid, but I do not like being in the halls at night.”

“Oh. So that’s why you practically run to your room after dinner,” he says as you hand him a berry.

“You guys have noticed that?” you ask, embarrassed.

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Uh,” you don’t know what to say, so you just continue what you’re doing. And each time you cut the top off a berry, he holds out his hand to take it.

You’ve never heard of someone eating strawberry tops, but… you don’t make a thing of it.

“Hm, a mini fridge. That sounds like a good idea. I’ll have to ask Lucifer.”

“Yeah! Like, it would save you some time not having to come downstairs. And you could keep your custard away from the likes of Mammon and myself.” you say with a small smile.

“I’m still sorry about that,” he says with a grimace.

“We stole from you. You had every right to get angry,” you gesture with your knife. “Besides, I had fun staying with you while my room was getting fixed.”

“Mmph, yeah. And then you almost got killed for the third time.” Whenever he remembers the way you stepped between him and Lucifer that night, it makes him feel sick.

“Eh, worth it.”

He gives you a stern look, “worth it? How can you say that?”

“Compared to being killed by a nerd over a quiz. Or over a container of custard. Yeah… saving a friend is a pretty good reason to die,” you say.

After that, the two of you fall silent. Nothing but the sound of the knife as it hits the board. Then the mixer whirring as you combine several things in a bowl.

“MC, you’re a really good person,” Beel says suddenly. But you can’t hear him.

You shut off the mixer momentarily so he can repeat himself, “huh?”

“Nothing,” he says, taking a couple of pieces of strawberry off the cutting board. You give a smile and a thumbs up and continue your mixing.

As he watches you from his stool, his mind starts to wander. How much kindness can fit into one human? Is there a limit to it? Are all humans like you? And you’d really get along well with Belphie. He’s the only one who never gets aggravated at him for his sin.

Before he knows it, you’re popping the cake pan into the oven. The oven door startles him as you close it with a clang.

“Okay… thirty minutes,” you say, setting a kitchen timer.

“Oi, MC, is dinner ready yet?!” you hear Mammon yell from the staircase.

“Yes dear! I’ll bring it right out,” you say sarcastically, at a regular volume. But you know he’s heard you from the grumbling that follows.

“I was just wonderin’ is all,” he pouts as he steps into the room.

You laugh softly and pat his arm, “I was joking. Yeah, it’s about done.”

Beel can hear his brothers starting to trickle into the dining room, as if on cue. He looks up at the clock and sure enough, it’s 8 o’clock on the dot.

“Mams, would you put this on the table please?” you ask, handing the second-born a basket of rolls. Beel has no idea where you’ve produced them from.

“Uh, sure.” Mammon gives the two of you a look, then takes the bread to the dining room.

“Oh! Please don’t let me forget the cake. It won’t have time to cool completely… but that’s fine, right?” you ask, shoving the strawberries into the fridge.

“‘s fine with me.”

You nod to yourself, taking the lid off the pot. The smell of the stew fills the room.

“Smells nice,” Beel says. You smile as you stir it. Then you stick your head out the door to see all your demon housemates sitting at the table.

“Hey, you guys know I don’t deliver. Come get your food!” you shout, startling them all.

Beel laughs. And then comes the grumbling from outside, followed by chairs scooting back. You hand Beel the ladle and a bowl from the stack you’d just pulled down out of the cupboard. “Here ya go. Helpers go first.”

He beams before standing and coming to the stove. He fills his bowl to the brim, then heads for his seat at the table. You follow suit, squeezing past Levi on your way out the door.

--

Once everyone has finished their dessert, you stand to clear the table. You do so extremely quickly, grabbing the bowls from in front of everyone and dashing to the kitchen.

“Huh, excellent table service even if they don’t deliver,” Asmo jokes as you exit.

Once you’ve rinsed all the dishes and put leftovers away, you start to head for your room. Beel, however, surprises you. He’s waiting for you at the kitchen door.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I just put it all up. Did you want some more?” you ask, already opening the fridge. Beelzebub gently presses it closed.

“No. I came to walk you to your room.” he answers.

Your eyes widen, “oh. Thanks.”

The walk is a short one, of course. But Beel being by your side makes you feel much safer. When you reach your door, you turn to give him a hug, “thank you Beel,” you say against his chest.

“Um, you’re welcome.” he says, taken aback.

“Wait just a sec,” you say once you let him go. Then you dash into your room for a second before returning.

You press something into Beel’s palm, “thanks again. Goodnight.”

Once you close the door, the Avatar of Gluttony looks down to find a candy bar in his hand. He smiles and walks upstairs to his room. And once he lays down, he sets your gift on the night table and looks to the other side of the room.

Belphegor’s side.

He’s still not used to seeing the blankets flat, with no Belphie-sized lump under them.

“Belphie, I can’t wait for you to meet them,” he says aloud. Even though his twin is in another realm. It makes him seem closer. Makes their room feel less empty.

He imagines the three of you hanging out together and it brings a smile to his face. Then, he rolls over and looks at the candy you’d just given him. He can still feel your arms around him, face pressed against his chest. He blushes slightly. Then, hunger temporarily satiated, he falls asleep.

(A few hours later, when he wakes up hungry and heads to the kitchen as usual, he finds a bowl in the fridge labeled “BEEL.” He doesn’t remember putting this here. When he removes the foil, he finds the remainder of the soup you’d made for dinner. Oh… Fuck, Belphie, he really needs to talk to you about something.)

–

Thank you for reading! Please reblog!

If you enjoyed this fic, please consider buying me a coffee!

<3 Aerie

[honeypirate]

Kitchen

Nanami Kento x reader

Summary: after a hard night Nanami makes you dinner, again.

You watch Nanami as he rolls up his sleeves and grabs a knife from the block in your kitchen. He slides the cutting board from beside the microwave without even looking, like he’s cooked in your kitchen so often he knows exactly where everything is. And he has. You’ve lost count over how many times he’s patched you up after a job, how many times he's taken you home and sat you at your counter top while he made a late meal for you both. It was borderline a ritual for you both by now, two people working overtime who needed a space to breathe unknowingly choosing each other over the silence of going home alone and making a meal for one. You revel in the quiet intimacy of how he knows where everything is.

It was just after midnight and the way his knife sliced through the vegetable was a soothing sound, the swift and methodical way he used it and the taps it made when the blade connected to the wooden cutting board made your heart slow into a contented rhythm you only feel in these moments.

He looks over his shoulder at you and you get a glimpse of the bruise forming on his jaw before your eyes meet his gaze through his glasses. You’ve noticed he does this at least three times while he cooks, like he’s checking in on you as you sit and unpack all your thoughts as the adrenaline wears off. He tosses the veggies into a warm pan and they sizzle when they make contact, the aroma of veggies and spices slowly spreading throughout the room.

He sets a plate in front of you and then one down beside you at your second countertop stool, his place. You remember the first time he cooked for you, how calm and confident he seemed but when he set down a plate for you his hand seemed to shake slightly like he was nervous. Something you never expected from him. When you invited him to eat with you you expected him to decline, but you were pleasantly surprised when he grabbed a second plate and sat beside you. Now that place seems like it will always be his.

When you’re both done eating he takes your plates before you can even stand and takes them to the sink, you usually beat him to this part but he can tell you have a lot on your mind. When he checks on you again over his shoulder he frowns slightly “You’re bleeding again” he says and you finally notice the stinging coming from your forehead. Your hand flies up to gently touch at the bandage and sure enough it feels wet.

He disappears for a moment, grabbing your first aid from your bathroom, another thing he knows exactly where is, and sits beside you at the counter again; his comforting warmth seeping into you.

You turn towards him when he’s ready and he gently peels back the previous bandage. “Foreheads are tricky” he says as he holds pressure against the wound again “they bleed like nothing else.” You try to commit his face to memory every time he gets this close, eyes slowly roaming over his forehead and down the slope of his nose, every twitch of his eyebrows and minuscule expression, you take in it all.

There’s this unbearable, heavy, hurt that rises in your chest. At first, it fills you with confusion. Why was it so deep? So unending? It’s the realization that you love him. But it’s not that the love that hurts, the love feels warm, the unbearable hurt is from the idea that something will happen to that love. Because you know that one day he won’t be here anymore. Or you won’t. Because that is just one of the consequences of the job.

“Hey” he says softly after finishing your bandage and cups your cheek, his thumb sliding underneath your eye and wiping away the tears you didn’t realize were there “what’s wrong? Does it hurt?” You shake your head no and then nod it yes, then laugh because of the confused look on his face.

You take his hand from your cheek and hold it between yours, messing with his fingers as you explain “my forehead is fine. It doesn’t hurt. Thank you for being so gentle with me Nanami” you take a breath and then look up into his eyes again “what hurts is this; one day I may be patching myself up again, alone” your voice breaks on the last word and you clear your throat, trying to rid yourself of the constricting feeling to no avail. You can see in his eyes he needs no more explanation, he knows exactly what you mean.

A few more tears escape, silently rolling down your cheeks, but before you can wipe them he’s pulled his hand from yours and is gently holding your face and before you can realize what he’s going to do he’s already doing it, like he couldn’t hold himself back, pressing his lips gently to your cheeks as he kisses away your tears. “I know” he whispers and pushes your hair behind your shoulders “I can’t bear to think of it” he admits, his cheek dropping to your shoulder and your arms wrapping around his middle as you come together in as much of an embrace as you can.

His voice is quiet when he speaks again but you hear every word “The consequences of the job mean that one of us,” he swallows and you can feel it against your shoulder “of both of us, will die” he leans back again and cups your cheek “but know this, y/n, until that day I will be here. Patching your wounds and making sure you eat” you smile as much as you can up at him “you do so much more for me than that, Nanami” he chuckles softly and leans his temple against yours as he whispers into your ear “you are more for me than you could ever imagine” your heart skips and your breath hitches in your throat, your tongue feels like it’s immobile and no words can come to mind. But you don’t have to say anything, he already knows, he always knows when it comes to you. “Can I kiss you?” He asks and when you nod a peaceful smile touches his lips before they press into yours

[glimmerglanger]

If you feel like doing more HotR, could you do a Christmas (or any other family event) scene? I had a thought of Ben having a huge family Christmas for the first time in his life and it made me feel some type of way

Ohhhh, that’s such a cute and sweet idea. I ended up not going for Christmas, because the idea of a Thanksgiving meal occurred to me and wouldn’t let go. This is SO DOMESTIC. Codywan with a lot of family feels.

~~~~~

Ben had tried to cook a meal on Thanksgiving precisely once in his life, while in college and sharing an apartment with Quin. They’d attempted to cook a turkey in their oven, promising to handle the stuffing and potatoes, as well. Luminara and Bant were each supposed to bring other dishes, he could no longer recall exactly what.

None of them had succeeded.

Some of the resulting food had been, at least, edible. Much of it had not.

They’d eaten stale cereal with milk while sitting around and watching a football game, instead.

It was a good memory, in the end. Something they laughed about together. And Ben had never tried to cook anything like that, again. Qui-Gon had never been interested in such things growing up. He said it always ended up being a waste, and that true thankfulness had nothing to do with cooking too much food or overeating.

And so, really, Ben wasn’t expecting anything when he woke up on the last Thursday in November, tucked in close to Cody in the new bed they’d bought a month ago, tired of trying to wedge into Cody’s little twin.

Technically, he mostly noted Thanksgiving because it meant he didn’t have to work and could, allegedly, sleep in. But Cody was always up early. Cattle didn’t take holidays, after all, and Ben was generally up when Cody rose, after sharing a bed with him for a few months, and so he was sitting at the table in the pre-dawn light when Cody put a cup of tea in front of him and said, “Eat a big breakfast this morning, we won’t eat again until late.”

“Hm?” Ben asked, tilting his face up, and got a kiss in answer.

“I’ll be back,” Cody said, brushing a kiss to his forehead, as well, before zipping up his coat and disappearing through the door. “You finish waking up.”

Ben nodded, drank his tea, and pulled out his books to make some headway on his final paper; not due for weeks yet, but it was a huge project. By the time Cody came back, cold clinging to him, he’d gotten most of his work done and grinned, standing to pull Cody into a hug, murmuring, “How about you let me warm you up properly, hm?”

Cody grinned against his mouth, slid his cold hands up under Ben’s shirt, and said, “Later. We’ll warm each other up. Come on, get dressed. We’re about to start the cooking.”

And it was only then that Ben really, truly, recalled that most people around the country did something for the holiday. “Ah,” he said, with a little grimace, thinking about the delicious food that Jango and Val managed to produce on a regular basis, “I really can’t cook.”

Cody snorted, thumbs brushing over his skin, and said, “We know. That’s alright. Anyone can cut up vegetables. Come on.”

Which was how Ben ended up standing in the kitchen in the main house, which had been cleared of all chairs, the counters and table stacked with meat, vegetables, and large metal baskets.

“Here,” Cody said, nudging Ben between Wooley and Echo, “just cut whatever mom tells you to chop. I have to go check the pit.”

“The pit?” Ben asked, but Cody was already heading out the back door. Echo was involved in an animated conversation with Fives, and Wooley was humming along to whatever music playing through his earbuds, and so Ben just shrugged, took the yams he was handed, and started peeling and chopping them.

The parade was playing on repeat in the other room, the television turned so that everyone working around the table could kind of see it, and Ben fell to talking with Boba and Ahsoka - also contributing by chopping vegetables - as Val and Jango did something with what appeared to be a bunch of chicken over by the counters.

It wasn’t until Fox - and Ben had only met the man the night before - brought over a basket lined with aluminum foil and started putting the vegetables in, that Ben thought to ask, “What are we cooking, anyway?”

Fox blinked across at him. Despite having only met in person the previous day, Ben felt like he knew Fox well enough. They’d spoken often throughout his court cases, after all.

“Dinner,” Fox said.

“It’s a hāngi,” Boba said, tossing yams into the basket. “Mom and dad only do them for special occasions. You missed the one in July. Just put the vegetables in, you’ll see, it’s really good.”

And that was that. Ben helped load up the vegetables, and carried one of the baskets out through the back door when instructed, over to what appeared to be a pit, well back from the house.

Cody and Wolf - who had also flown in the night before - were standing over the pit, which was radiating heat, leaning on shovels. A large pile of ash sat to one side, and Cody’s pants were covered with it. Jango and Val reached the pit first, and Ben watched as baskets were lowered in, one after another, meat first followed by the vegetables.

Cody covered the food with blankets before he and Wolf grabbed up their shovels again and started burying the whole thing.

Ben lingered to watch, smiling when Cody finished and stepped over to kiss him sweetly. “Now what?” Ben asked, since he’d just watched them bury dinner.

“Now it cooks for a few hours,” Cody said, nuzzling back against his jaw. Cody no longer felt cold, but he’d been, apparently, standing by a fire pit and doing manual labour. “And then we eat it.”

“No,” Fives said, bounding up and pushing Cody’s shoulders before continuing on, “now we play football.”

Cody rolled his eyes and said, “That, too.” His expression grew more serious as he looked Ben up and down. “You don’t have to play.”

“I think there’ll be an uneven number of players, if I do,” Ben pointed out. It seemed handy, having twelve children if you wanted even teams for sporting events.

“Nah,” Rex said, arriving at a jog, “Ahsoka’s playing, so you have to, otherwise we’re a man down.”

Which was, he supposed, how they all ended up down in the field where Ahsoka still did the dog training classes, though the obstacles had all been cleared away, giving them lots of open space. The brothers agreed, after only a little arguing, that Fox and Wolf should get to be captains, to welcome them home, and the oldest set of twins quickly picked teams.

And Ben only realized that Cody thought he didn’t know how to play when Cody tugged him to one side - they were on the same team, which Boba had thought was hilarious - and said, “Just have fun, alright? We don’t play tackle anymore, and it isn’t a big deal who wins or loses.”

Ben stifled the smile that tried to curl across his lips at Cody - quite possibly one of the most competitive people he’d ever met - claiming that it didn’t matter who won or lost. He just nodded and said, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

And, when he got the ball, two plays into the game, he scrambled back, looked down field, and nailed Crys a few feet away from the line they’d designated the end zone. Crys caught the ball, shouted, laughing, dodged past Ponds, and took the two necessary steps before getting jumped on by half his brothers and buried.

Ben laughed, well back down the field, blood pumping fast with a swell of pleasure, and Cody grabbed him by his shoulders, turning him and pulling him into a kiss. “You!” Cody said, after a beat, pulling away from him. “You can--”

“Throw a football?” Ben suggested, kissing him again, briefly. “Indeed I can. Not as well as I could in highschool, but--”

Cody kissed him again, laughing against his mouth, and only quit when his brothers all gathered around to heckle them, insisting on getting back to the game. They chased one another around the field, grabbing for the rags tucked into belts, tossing the ball around, until Ben felt breathless and delighted, until Jango hollered for them from back towards the house.

Cody took his hand on the way back up the lane and led him around to the back of the house as many of the rest of his brothers flooded inside. Cody, Fox, Wolf, and Rex seemed to be on, well, unburying duty.

Ben watched them work for a moment, turning as Val stepped up to his side, offering him a beer, asking, “Good game?”

“Seemed to be,” Ben said, nodding his thanks and taking a long drink. It was cold, which felt good after all the activity. Despite the chilly temperatures, he was sweating all down his back, even with his coat thrown to one side.

“Good,” she said, and nudged him, “come inside and get cleaned up for dinner. Then you can come back and watch Cody, if you want.”

He snorted a laugh and followed her, scrubbing his hands clean over the kitchen sink, watching Cody through the window over the counter, listening to the family bicker about setting the table behind him and--

Swallowing, thickly, as his throat got tight all at once. He took the opportunity to splash water across his face, drying his skin even as cheers started going up, the brothers outside pulling the first of the baskets from the pit.

Ben shook himself and went to help out, bringing food inside, watching Val and Jango start dividing things up among all the different plates set around. It felt kind of like getting caught in a whirlwind of delicious smells and laughing people, all of it sorting itself out in the end with them clustered around the table, chairs all pressed together, wedged so close that Ben wondered, for a beat, if Cody were about to end up in his lap.

He didn’t, but it was a near thing.

The food smelled delicious, savory aromas filling up the room, chicken and some darker meat on his plate beside sweet potatoes, potatoes, cabbage, and what he thought might be pumpkin. The family talked and yelled and laughed through the meal, and Ben just...absorbed it, sat in the middle of it all and took it in, even as they finished and even as everyone pitched in to clean up.

“You’re quiet,” Cody said, much later, when all the work was done and they were back in their space, Ben toweling off his hair after a shower that he’d desperately needed.

“Mm?” Ben asked, tossing the towel into the hamper and shivering when Cody caught his hips, tugging him over to the bed, pressing a kiss low on his stomach.

“Today too much?” Cody asked, looking up at him, expression concerned, his hair still wet as well, curling up more from the moisture.

“No,” Ben said, leaning into his touch and threading his fingers back through Cody’s hair. He smiled, just a little, feeling his chest aching with an overabundance of contentment. “No,” he repeated, and sighed when Cody kissed his stomach again, “It was just enough.”

[starlightrows]

8 — The Healer

The Queen of Tatooine Masterlist

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Pairing: Boba Fett x reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: NSFW, Blood and injury, medical, unintentional self inflicted harm, mention of disordered eating (Not graphic, but warnings still apply), oral sex (f receiving)

Summary: You get the chance to start working on a long awaited project, and get in over your head.

A few days later your breakfast with Talece and Mira is interrupted by the head of one of the construction and renovation crews to let you know that the sunless garden space is complete.

You’re so excited you can hardly finish your meal. You find yourself wanting to sprint down the halls to see the room. It takes so much self restraint to compose yourself and walk beside the rather stoic and unbothered construction lead down to the room.

Before the renovation it must have been either a ballroom or a massive storage space. Either way it was not well maintained. It was full of piles and piles of junk that climbed all the way to the ceiling, the floors and the walls were damaged, and it was unusable.

It had been your idea to gut the room and turn it into something usable and unique. You loved having a garden on your homeworld, and since nothing grows on Tatooine due to the excessive heat from the suns and the lack of fertile soil, this seemed like the perfect use for the room.

Boba didn’t have much of an opinion on it either way when you initially pitched him the idea. In all honesty, he was just happy to see how happy it made you. He was quite impressed by your ingenuity creating this room. Artificial sun and moon lighting in real time with the seasons, water reclaimer and distributor so that whatever plant you choose can be watered without wasting it, and holo panels covering the walls to make the entire space look like an enclosed greenhouse.

And when you finally get to look at it, it’s perfect. Rows of raised garden beds, the lighting and holo panels look so real you’re almost sure they misunderstood your directions and just built out a patio instead.

“If there’s anything we missed or not up to your standard let us know, my lady” the foreman tells you

“No no, this is absolutely perfect” you can’t contain the smile on your face “Thank you! Thank you so much, it’s wonderful”

The foreman has to hold back a laugh, you’re practically vibrating, you're so elated. In all his years of doing large scale projects like this, he’s never had a client seem so appreciative.

“I’ll leave you to it my lady” The foreman politely exits the room, leaving you to wander around and admire their handiwork.

As you walk you begin taking notes on your data pad, for what plants and flowers you want to put in which planter boxes. It’ll be a tall order to get all the seeds and plant bulbs delivered here, but once they’re planted and growing, this will be a sight to behold!

You land up spending the entire day in the garden, labeling planter boxes with bits of flimsy tacked on the sides. Talece brought down a tray of food and insisted you eat something, but she also took the time to let you gush about the vegetables you planned to grow and how beautiful the room will be when things begin to bloom.

When you’re too exhausted to stand up straight any longer you make the long trek through the palace back to your room. Only to lay down on the bed with your data pad to begin placing the orders for soil, seeds, bulbs, labels, and plant pots. When you finally power off the data pad, you’re so happy. You can’t wait for Boba to be home so you can show him how amazing it all is.

You hear from Boba a couple days later, he is finally returning to Tatooine, and is “very excited” to see your new projects. He can’t help but smile picturing you squealing with delight as you show him all of your little plants and paintings.

On the same day, your soil and seeds finally arrive at the palace. You almost feel bad for having guards and some of the stronger looking servants help you drag bags of soil down to the garden. You feel less bad because you’ve got your sleeves rolled up to do the heavy lifting too.

Once everything is down there though, you release them to go back to their everyday duties. You get into a rhythm. Slice the seam off a soil bag. Dump into a planter box. Distribute evenly, and rake to till it. Move on to the next planter box.

Hours and hours and hours of this pass. You couldn’t be happier. It reminds you of summers back on your home planet, planting the seeds that would eventually become your fall crops. That would later become your fall meals. Soups and stews thickened with vegetables, roasted root and tubers to go with roasted meat, and gourds to be cooked down into mush to be put into pastries. It’s too hot to have such a need for hearty hot foods like that here on Tatooine. But you still crave them from time to time. It’s one of the only things you miss about your previous home.

As you’re slicing open a bag of soil, thinking about soup, you put in just a little too much force and swipe the blade farther than you expected. At first you don’t really feel it. But then you see the colorful bloom of fresh blood staining your sleeve. You’re stunned for a moment looking at it.

Your hands are covered with dirt. Mind over matter you resist the urge to clamp your dirty hand down over the bloody wound. Instead you calmly stand up and go back to your room. Staring straight ahead, not really able to look at it at the moment.

You get back to your room and know without looking that it is still bleeding but not that bad. I’ve had worse. I’ve had worse. I’ve had worse. You recite to yourself. You start the facet in the fresher and clean your hands, some of the blood has dribbled down your arm into your hand. You scrub it away quickly so you can peel off the shirt.

You take a deep breath and look in the mirror. It’s bloody. But not bad. You figure if you can clean it well and wrap it tightly it’ll be fine. You decide you’re done for today and it might be best if you just clean it in the shower. Perhaps not your best decision, but people make poor choices when they’re in shock.

Eventually you are clean, dry, dressed, and have the wound wrapped in a clean bandage. The shock has finally worn off, leaving you feeling exhausted and in quite a bit of pain. You know you’ve probably pushed yourself a bit too far today, and not just because you got hurt. You didn’t remember to take breaks, drink water, or eat meals at all today. A nasty habit you’re still trying to break.

Tomorrow will be better, you promise yourself. You do the responsible thing and lay down for the rest of the evening, falling asleep to an older episode of one of the shows Boba likes to watch.

In the morning, your whole body is sore and the wound hurts pretty badly. You risk taking a peek at it, the bandage is mostly soaked through but not enough to stain the bedding or your clothes… your clothes from yesterday.

You groan in frustration, blood stains are difficult to remove if you let them set. Sitting up you feel a little dizzy, chalk it up to lack of food and water plus everything that happened yesterday. Today is going to be better, you remind yourself. You start by getting out of bed and drinking a glass of water from the fresher. There you already feel a little better.

Next you search around for your dirty clothes from yesterday. Just as you thought, stained. You decide to run some water in the bathtub and let it soak with soap while you take care of the wound. It’s certainly not a pretty sight, but you muscle your way through it and get it clean once more and wrapped as best you can. It’s not perfect but it will have to do.

Just as you finish up you hear a knock at the bedroom door followed by the door opening on its own. You flinch at the sound. Usually if someone in the palace needs your help they will knock but wait for you to bid them entry or open the door yourself. This can only mean one thing.

“Cyare?” It’s Boba! You turn quickly and dash out of the fresher, leaving the medical supplies on the counter.

“Boba!” You exclaim running into his waiting arms. He snatches you up in a bracing hug and laughs at your enthusiasm.

“I tried to com you last night to tell you I would be home in the morning but you didn’t answer. I figured you were asleep” He explains releasing you from the hug and pressing a kiss to you cheek.

“Oh yeah, I was really tired yesterday. I fell asleep with the holo on” you tell him with a bit of an embarrassed heat creeping up into your cheeks.

“You needed rest, can’t be blamed for that my dear” he assures you, tilting your face up to him to give you a proper kiss on the lips. The kiss deepens, both of you finding that you can’t seem to pull away.

“Stars I missed you” you say quietly when you finally have to break for fresh air

“I missed you too cyare. Let me clean up a bit and we can have some breakfast together” he lets you go completely now. You smile and nod happily. He kisses you one more time, and moves past you to go into the fresher while you go find clothes to wear for the day.

Suddenly Boba is calling your name from the fresher. Your heart fills with dread at the thought of what he’s just seen in there.

“What the hell happened in here? Are you alright?” He begins scanning you up and down with his eyes, zeroing in on the bandage on your arm.

“It’s okay! I’m okay” you assure him, trying to push past and clear away the medical supplies from the counter

He places his hands on his shoulders and spins you around to face him, carefully saying your name again with a warning air about him. His hands stay on your shoulders and he looks you in the eye when he asks again. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing really, I cut myself opening a bag of soil yesterday” you explain

He sighs and shakes his head “And what did the healer say?”

“I… I didn’t see a healer” you admit sheepishly

“What? Why not?” He’s appalled and a little frustrated

“I didn’t think it was necessary, I’ve had worse before” you realize his shock and frustration is not unfounded, any rational person probably would have spoken to a healer about this.

“Had worse? And you handled it yourself? Cyare, that is a serious injury” He says, as if repeating it would get you to understand the severity of the situation.

“Boba… I wasn’t welcome to visit the healer on my homeworld. I’m sorry, I didn’t think to ask for help” Suddenly you feel guilty and a little defensive “I don’t… I don’t know how to do that when I’m in trouble. I didn’t even think about it”

Then he understands. Of course you wouldn’t think to ask for help when you hurt yourself. Because you’ve been conditioned to think you would not get it if you asked. He has to remind himself that he too used to struggle with asking for assistance, and it’s something that he needs to be understanding about in this relationship.

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry cyare, I didn’t mean to overwhelm you” he apologizes “I was just worried when I saw the bloody clothing and used medical supplies. I know you did your best with what you had at the moment. But now you’re not in danger, and we have the resources to have a healer that will actually help you. May I call someone to come look at it?”

You nod in acceptance and let him guide you back out into the main living space in your quarters. He sits you down in a chair, and asks that you just sit and relax for a couple minutes while he steps outside to give instructions to a guard or staff member.

He instructs a guard to go into Mos Eisley and bring back a healer, and a second guard to instruct the kitchen staff to bring a pitcher of hot water as well as breakfast. A few moments later there’s a gentle knock at the door. Boba calls for them to enter, and Mira comes forward bringing the pitcher of water and a tray laden with tea, toast, and eggs cooked the way you like them. She has a look of horror on her face as she sees Boba tending to your injured arm, and you cringe thinking back to your conversation with her the other day.

But Boba doesn’t seem to notice at all, “Thank you Mira, we might need more water if the healer asks for it later”

She gives a shaky curtsy and small voiced “Of course, my lord. My lady” before quickly leaving the room.

“So” Boba gives you a look “Cut yourself opening a bag of soil aye? Does that mean your fancy garden is finished?”

“Yes” you smile a little shyly, knowing that if he gets you talking about it you won’t shut up for the next half an hour at least

“Go on then, tell me everything” he encourages you, because more than anything, he missed hearing you gush about things you care about while he was traveling.

As you eat your breakfast you tell him about your new painting studio and the garden and all the plants you’ve ordered. Which things have arrived, which things you’re still waiting for. You tell him the truth about yesterday, that you had been at it for hours and your hand just slipped when you hurt yourself.

“Accidents happen cyare” he reminds you “I just want you to be more careful”

Just then there is another knock at the door, Boba calls for them to enter. The guard he sent into town has returned with the healer, and you’re surprised to see that you recognize him.

“It’s you, hello again” you greet him.

The man looks a little stunned. When you had asked him to make a remedy for chemical burn scars, you had said it was for your partner, not the kriffing king!

“Y-yes… nice to see you again… um… What seems to be the problem?” he asks, struggling to get his bearings.

Boba takes the liberty of explaining your injury to the healer, and invites him to come take his place so he can examine the wound and assess if it needs further treatment. While the healer works Boba excuses himself to remove his armor and get cleaned up in a different room of the palace. But he leaves two guards to watch over you. When Boba’s gone the healer looks up at you.

“You didn’t tell me your partner was the kriffing king” he hisses as he unwraps the bandage

“That was intentional” you explain “I can’t just go broadcasting to the entire city what my business is”

“Yeah but you might have mentioned it” he grumbles “would have charged you more”

He takes a look at your wound and takes on a look of concentration and disappointment

“What?” you ask with a touch of worry in your voice

“This needs stitches and bacta. You should have come to me or another healer immediately” he chastises you

“Hey, I did my best okay. And if you’re going to get mouthy can I at least know your name so I know who to curse in my mind when you stitch me up?” You bite back

“Darius” he replies “And you can curse me all you like, but you’ll thank me later when this heals without an ugly scar”

“Fine” you relent and let him get to work recleaning and stitching up the wound.

By the time Boba returns Darius has the wound rewrapped and is writing out instructions to keep it clean on a spare bit of flimsi. Darius gets markedly more tense when Boba is in the room, clearly he’s more intimidated by Boba than he is by you. He hands you the piece of flimsi and reminds you to be more careful next time before hastily departing the room with guards escorting him. Boba sends the breakfast tray out as well, finally giving you both some privacy.

“Now then, I believe I promised you a reward last we spoke” he leans forward to kiss the sensitive spot just behind your ear.

You hum in contentment as he continues kissing down your neck.

“Have you been a good girl while I’ve been gone?” he purrs

“Yes” you say with a little gasp and he sucks a particularly pleasant spot

“Go lay down for me” he pulls away from your neck and nods his head towards the bed. You get up quickly and toss the pillows up to the head of the bed and lay back.

He crawls up the bed slowly, pushing your legs apart at the knees dipping down to start a trail of kisses leading up and over your thigh. He breezes right past your needy pussy and instead continues kissing over your hips, and across to your tummy.

“You were so good for me on the com” he murmurs, dragging his nose across your skin, down from your belly button to top of your mound. He’s looking up at your pretty face, wanting to see every expression cross it.

Without blinking an eye, pushes his tongue between your lips and licks a broad stripe up, already tasting your arousal. He continues, slowly stroking you with his tongue up and down, up and down, up and down.

You can’t help it, you start squirming. It feels amazing, but his slow pace is driving you wild. Normally Boba might be a little mean and make you stay still, but it’s been too long and he’s loving watching you writhe in pleasure.

He maintains his long strokes but begins increasing his speed. Finally working an audible moan out of your chest. He switches tactic and pauses mid stroke, and begins fluttering his tongue just barely inside your dripping hole.

“Fuck!” You whimper trying to force yourself not to buck your hips into his mouth.

He knows you’re getting close and he knows just what to get you to the finish line, he makes one more broad stroke with his tongue and stops at the top of his path and latches onto your clit. Suckling and circling the swollen bud with his talented tongue.

Your whole body tensed with such force that you’re sure you might have pulled a muscle and moan in ecstasy as you cum on his face. Boba doesn’t stop, he continues to lap up your release all the way through your orgasm. When you’re finally laying back boneless with your eyes closed, breathing heavily he pulls away kissing back up your belly with feather light pressure until he’s hovering over you, kissing your neck and waiting for you to feel ready to open your eyes again.

Eventually you do open your eyes again, and place your hand on the back of his head to guide him away from your neck. He follows your direction and comes back down to kiss your lips.

“That was one hell of a reward” you say with a breathy laugh

“What can I say? I’m a man of my word” he shrugs laying down beside you

“You certainly are” you smile “I’m really glad you’re back”

“You really did miss me” he chuckles

“Of course I did! I love getting to talk to you about the garden and my painting and my projects. And I really missed getting to relax with you at night. And I love watching your weird holo dramas and hearing about your clients and having dinner with you. I just love… you” you find yourself admitting

He reached out, cradling your face in his hand, stroking your cheek with his thumb “I love you too cyare. I missed you dearly while I was gone. Thought about you every morning when I woke up and every night before I went to sleep”

Your heart soars hearing him say that. It’s easy to fall in love. Day in and day out, it just happens. It’s hard to admit you’re in love. You have to find the words to explain to someone why they are the most important person in your life and they give you unending joy even when you’re not right next to them. But with Boba it’s easy. It’s easy to be in love and it’s easy to say it.

“I love you”

Tag List: @cannedsoupsucks​ @otterly-fey​ @paige6768​  @littledragonlady​ @star-hoes​ @aeryntheofficial​ @xx-small-town-witch-xx​ @lokigirlszendaya​ @ladysongmaster​ @2clones-1kamino​ @cagrame​ @ashbyrhymer​ @adancedivasmom​ @4rosydreams​ @heybub​ @thefact0rygirl​ @elinedjarin

[carewyncromwell]

LOTR AU tag here! // set directly after this more light-hearted drabble by @drinkyoursoupbitch​ // referencing Gwendolyn “Wendy” Gordon and Selene and Artemis Clair de Lune @twins-born-in-a-new-moon

x~x~x~x

The Fellowship set off for the Pass of Caradhras with a very business-like affect. They had a mission to fulfill, so they approached it seriously, as one would think they should. But because of this, it took a little while before anyone really noticed just how little Carewyn had looked Orion in the face, since they’d left Rivendell. 

Orion noticed, though. He noticed it from the start, however much he didn’t bring it up to anyone. 

It was only once the rest of the Fellowship had devolved into leisurely, amiable conversation that Orion tried to reach out to Carewyn, putting down the stick he’d been using to poke the fire and getting up so as to help her untie the kettle she’d tied to her pony’s saddle. 

“May I?” he asked. 

Carewyn was taken aback. Then, abruptly, she grabbed the ropes herself, right out of Orion’s hands.

“Oh -- no,” she said very quietly. “I’ve got it.”

She finished untying the kettle and bustled back over to the fire, just as quickly setting about peeling some potatoes. Orion watched her go, his frown deepening that bit further. Then he slowly walked back over to the fire, settling down on the stone beside her as she worked.

“May I help you peel those?” he offered. “Two sets of hands could do the job faster.”

Carewyn looked up, startled. 

“Yes, but...I can more than manage,” she said quickly, as she once again averted her eyes back down to the vegetables she was cutting up. “Thank you.”

Orion tilted his head to try to look at her better. “Then...how best can I offer you some assistance?”

Carewyn determinedly didn’t look at him. 

“You can sit down and let me feed you, so that you can keep up your strength,” she said at last, her voice oddly forceful. 

Orion's frown twitched. Before he could say anything, however, Charlie brought an amiable arm around his neck, giving him something of an awkward headlock.

“Aw, don’t take it personally, Orion!” Charlie said with a cheeky grin. “Carey’s just stubborn as a mule -- ”

“In the time I’ve known her, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Carewyn accept help from anyone,” said Selene with a wry smile. “At least, not without stubbornly refusing it multiple times beforehand...”

“She’s always been like that,” said Ben, as he shot a slightly pointed, cooler smile Carewyn’s way. 

“Always,” Bill agreed.

The tallest of the Hobbits’ lips spread into a slightly fonder, but still very wry smile as he glanced at Carewyn out the side of his eye. 

“I remember her mum, Lane Cromwell-Took, telling stories about Carey when she was little,” he said mischievously. “How she used to insist on riding a pony all by herself, even back when she was still a wee faunt...”

Gandalf chuckled. “That was true. And the pony stood a good two feet above our little she-Hobbit.”

The rest of the Fellowship couldn’t help but laugh at the adorable image painted for them. Even Cedric was snorting with laughter behind his hand despite his best efforts. 

“Aw, really, Carey?” he said, charmed. “I didn’t try riding a pony until I was nearly ten...”

Charlie laughed. “Better than me! Bill and I didn’t properly learn to ride until we set off with Carey for the Misty Mountains.”

“Couldn’t exactly afford lessons,” Bill added in explanation. 

“Well, I’d say Carewyn was just the right age to learn how to ride a proper pony!” said Rowan with a broad smile around his beard. 

“I agree,” said Wendy. “The Rohirrim learn to ride right alongside walking...and our horses are way bigger than the ponies you lot ride. I reckon even you learned how to ride pretty young, right, Orion?”

“Rather young, yes,” Orion granted. 

He glanced at Carewyn, but she once again avoided his eye. Instead she brought herself up to full height, her expression very cool as she focused on her cooking.

“I merely wish to make myself useful,” she said primly. “I was not chosen to accompany Cedric to Rivendell at the start, nor am I any sort of warrior who can protect him or the Ring from harm, as Prince Rowan or Amari can.” 

Her use of Orion’s Ranger name was pointed. No one else had called him that since the Council of Elrond, when his true name was revealed. An envoy from Gondor, a dark-haired man called Felix, had questioned Orion’s presence at the council, demanding what a “mere Ranger” would understand about the One Ring and the might of Sauron. Both Wendy and Selene had been offended by the man’s rudeness, but Carewyn had managed to lay him out first --

“He is a Man, just as you are, is he not? Therefore it’s just as much his world, and his life, that are under threat from Sauron.”

Felix had pretty quickly turned his disdain down upon Carewyn. “Must I repeat my previous sentiment as well, for the halfling?”

Before Ben could fully get up out of his seat and unsheathe his sword (something both Artemis and Wendy were quick to prevent), Carewyn hopped up onto the top of her seat so as to better look Felix in the eye and verbally tore into him --

“I may be half your stature, sir -- but my moral standards clearly are head over heels above yours, for I don’t presume that my blood ancestry makes me inherently superior to anyone else!”

It was only Elrond that quelled the argument, by making it clear that both Carewyn and Orion had plenty of reason to be at the Council -- Carewyn because her brother had disappeared while seeking out the One Ring and had been the one to discover it had ended up back in the Shire, and Orion because of his relation to Isildur, the last doomed King of Gondor who had failed to destroy the One Ring himself so many years ago. And it was indeed this moment when Orion had noticed Carewyn’s eyes had changed somewhat in how she looked upon him, before she’d stopped looking at him altogether.

Orion’s black eyes rippled with something a bit more troubled as he shifted a bit closer to Carewyn.

“You do not need to prove your worth to us, Ms. Took,” he said very softly. 

Something in Carewyn’s eyes darkened. She turned fully away, and then immediately got up and started serving stew to the people around the fire. 

“Eat up now, all of you -- we may have to eat and travel light, but to do that, you’ll need proper nourishment.”

~*~

As the Fellowship all prepared to go to sleep, Orion tried once again to approach Carewyn. This time he managed to catch her alone while she tended to the Fellowships’ horses.

“Ms. Took.”

Carewyn stiffened a bit at the sound of Orion’s voice. She didn’t turn around even as the Ranger slowly approached her. He watched her for a moment, considering his next move carefully -- then he tentatively brought a hand up to smooth out his own horse’s mane, which Carewyn had been brushing. 

“Have I offended you, Amari?” she asked softly.

Orion gave a double blink worthy of a trained animal receiving confusing instructions. “Offended me?”

Carewyn frowned deeply. “Well, yes. I told you that I only care to have strangers refer to me as ‘Ms. Took.’”

Orion blinked again, much more slowly. Then, his eyes welling up with compassion, he got down on Carewyn’s level so as to look her in the eye better.

“...It seems I’ve made a great error. I thought that I had offended you, and in trying to make amends, I’ve ended up offending you further.”

Carewyn looked up at him, her eyebrows high with surprise. 

“What? Why would you think that? You did nothing wrong! I merely...”

She looked down.

“...I merely...didn’t know how best to address you.”

Orion tilted his head, frowning slightly. 

“I wished to address you like before -- as Amari,” she explained. “It is the name you introduced yourself with, to me, and it’s clearly the name you feel most comfortable being called. I want you to remain comfortable with me. But...even if I did refer to you that way -- by the name you gave me, rather than the one Lord Elrond calls you...I didn’t want you to think that...well, that I don’t respect who you truly are. Sure, perhaps your family hasn’t held the throne of Gondor in generations, but you’re still descended from great kings. From brave Chieftains and wise elves. And as much as you don’t follow in their footsteps, you’ve clearly learned so much from them -- how to nurture and protect...how to lead. And well...I’m just a Hobbit who happened to get thrown into this whole quest while trying to find my brother. The One Ring doesn’t have the history for me that it does for you. This mission’s success is so much more important for you than it could ever be for me.”

Orion’s expression softened. He quietly considered her for a long moment, before he reached out a hand and rested it on his horse’s flank, just over Carewyn’s. 

“...Lord Elrond doesn’t call me Orion,” he said at last. “At least, aside from when he introduces me formally.”

Carewyn blinked in surprise. 

“In my youth, my name was Estel,” said Orion, as his lips curled up in a small smile. “I was a Man raised with all the education and guidance of an elf, with no knowledge of my true parentage. It was only when I had turned twenty that Lord Elrond told me the name my mother had given me...and it was not long after that that I took on the name Amari, in the wilderness...”

His gaze flitted down to Carewyn’s hand, the small fingers of which his were merely inches away from. 

“It’s a name I took due to the danger my real name posed to me, and to the people around me,” he said lowly. “It was for that name -- Orion Elessar II -- that both my father and mother lost their lives...and it is that name that prompts nothing but distrust and verbal poison from the Men of Gondor.”

“That’s nonsense.”

Orion looked at Carewyn. Her eyebrows had furrowed with righteous anger and her hands had flown to her hips. 

“No name can prompt such things -- only the actions and choices of weaker, crueler creatures,” Carewyn said fiercely. “Why, Orion’s a very handsome name! The name of a very wise and courageous Man, I should think, since you’re the second Elessar to bear the name! And for anyone to judge you based on what an ancestor thirty times before our time did? There are few Elves alive that can even remember back that far! And even if they can, you are not Isildur, and his failings are not yours.”

Orion raised his eyebrows, faintly surprised but also faintly touched by the sentiment. Then he quirked one of his eyebrows at her critically. 

“...And yet your opinion of me changed, once you knew of my ancestry,” he pointed out. “More positively than I’m used to -- but still, a change.”

Carewyn flushed, but her expression stayed stubbornly proud. 

“My change in behavior was not because of you being related to royalty -- I already presumed you might have some noble blood when we first met, didn’t I?” she huffed. 

She brushed her bangs out of her eyes. 

“It just...affected what you told me, about your mother. How she died bringing you to Rivendell, to stay with Lord Elrond. I had no idea it was because of who your family was...that you’d never had a real place to think of as ‘home’...all because your family had been exiled from the place they once knew as home, ages before you were born, all because of an ancestor who everyone even now insists on comparing you to.”

Her eyes grew more solemn upon their two hands on the flank of Orion’s horse.

“...Your whole family...you all lost your home. You were all displaced, never to know the true comfort of hearth and home...all because of one horrible mistake, thousands of years ago.”

Her hand finally moved up to take hold of Orion’s. Orion gave the slightest of starts, but recovered quickly, as Carewyn gave his hand a light squeeze.

“Your family deserved better than that,” she said quietly. “You deserve better than that.”

Orion’s black eyes wandered over Carewyn’s face, even as she kept her own gaze on their joined hands. Then, very slowly, he also turned his eyes down to their hands, and gave hers the lightest of squeezes in return. 

“...You have a very large heart, Carewyn Cromwell-Took.”

Carewyn’s cheeks reddened with a light blush as she smiled slightly.

“I suppose...I really should ask properly what you’d like me to call you,” she said bracingly.

Orion considered her. “That really would depend on you.”

Carewyn raised her eyebrows. 

“What do you see when you look at me, Carewyn Cromwell-Took?” he asked. “The orphaned ward of Lord Elrond, raised and taught by the Elves of Rivendell? A Ranger with no country who wanders and adventures every day? Or the heir of a disgraced King who now aims to finish what that King could not?”

Carewyn frowned deeply. 

“What I see is a Man,” she said, “and everything that entails.”

Orion looked curious. 

“All of Men’s great foibles?” he asked amusedly.

“All of Men’s potential,” Carewyn shot back. Her lips spread into a determined, bright red smile. “Yes, perhaps Men do have their foibles. Quite a few of them, really. They can be impatient, and very short-sighted, as their lifespans are so short. They’re not particularly strong, or resilient, or even that fast. They can be as stubborn as dwarves, as arrogant as Elves, and as self-absorbed as Hobbits. And yet...”

Her smile spread into a fuller, gleaming grin -- a truly beautiful expression that made her eyes sparkle. 

“...They can also be none of that, and more. They can be tolerant and accepting, when those of the other races turn up their noses. They can be generous and kind, being loyal companions and comrades-in-arms. They can be modest and wise...willing to discard what could elevate their own status, all in a desire to make deep connections with others.”

Orion’s eyes widened just a bit.

“You truly admire Men,” he said. 

Carewyn crossed her arms, smiling wryly. “Is that so strange?”

“For me, yes,” Orion admitted. 

Lord Elrond was not subtle in his disdain toward the failings of Men -- many elves and dwarves weren’t. Carewyn’s idealism, though, made Orion smile broadly.

“If that is the case,” he said as he inclined his head respectfully to her, “then I should dearly like it if you called me ‘Orion.’”

Carewyn hesitated. “...Are you sure?”

“Yes,” said Orion with a bright white smile. “You yourself said it was a handsome name. And perhaps you can see through those flaws in my name, the same as you have seen through those in Men.”

Carewyn smiled a bit more softly as she withdrew her hand from his at last. 

“I’m certain I can...Orion.”