Wren/Stark/Cinna/Tony

Your understanding of the finer details of human practices is... lacking. To say the least. You know certain things, you understand that humans require sustenance and water--and as such, had supplied Simon with a stream behind his cabin that always flowed with fresh, drinkable water, as well as the house that would provide his other needs. But the finer details were lost to you. As a being that existed far above all of that, Simon was your first introduction to many of the more complicated aspects of humanity.

Such as a need for privacy when in more vulnerable moments. For example, while showering. Something you had only learned when you'd felt Simon thinking about you and, assuming he was requesting your company, had merely appeared in his bathroom. Only to be met with panicked yelling and an order for you to get out.

That had resulted in a conversation about boundaries. Simon's obvious embarassement and discomfort with the conversation as a whole had resulted in you deciding not to mention that you'd only appeared because, subconsciously, he had requested your presense. It wasn't worth upsetting him further.

Needless to say, there was much for you to learn. The act of cooking and preparing food was one such thing.

You need, broadly, that humans required sustenance to sustain them, but the intricacies of the practice was new to you. "Well, what do concepts eat?" Simon asked, when you mentioned such thoughts to him. He was stood at the kitchen counter, mixing something pleasant smelling in a pot on the stove.

"We do not require sustenance," You answered, voice soft and airy, head tilted as you watched him with curiosity. "Well, many of us do not. Some feed on cosmic energy, some have desires to grow and assimilate other life to achieve that, but it is not eating in the same sense as how humans do it and I am not one such concept." There was a quiet pop, like the air depressurising, and a freshly chopped vegetable you did not recogonise appeared on the cutting board beside him.

Simon set his wooden spoon down and grabbed the cutting board, adding the vegetables to the pot. "So... you don't need to eat?" He asked, head tilting towards you. The cutting board was set aside once more, the spoon picked back up and he resumed stirring. "Like, at all?"

"I could do so if I chose, but it is not a requirement, no." You answered simply, drifting closer. Personal space was one of those other things you were oblivious too and while, at first, you had kept some distance from Simon, now you saw no need. You loomed right by his side, peering into the pot of chopped vegetables, simmering meat, all mixed in a red sauce. "What are you making?"

"Pasta sauce. Mince meat, onions, chopped peppers, mushrooms, tomato" He listed off the ingredients, still stirring, "nothing too complicated, and a lot better than the prison slop I was eating at the C.O.I. Been a long time since I was able to cook like this though."

"I see," You replied, not really understanding. Curious and without thinking, you reached out, dipping a fingertip into the simmer sauce. Simon made a startled sound, high-pitched and panic, dropping the spoon and snatching your wrist up immediately to yank your hand away from the pot.

"Hey! Don't do that, you could burn yourself!" He snapped, expression twisting as he dragged your hand closer to him. When you continued to not react, merely staring at him unblinkingly, he paused. Quieter, he asked. "Can... you burn yourself?"

You tilted your head. "Not that I am aware of. This form is one I take for you, it is not my true vessel, and I lack many of the fragilities of human kind, even if I may appear as one now."

"Ah."

Slowly, somewhat reluctantly, his grip on you loosened. You pulled your hand from his and brought your sauce-dipped finger to your mouth, pressing it to your tongue. The most curious asortment of flavours danced along your tongue and you perked up instantly. "Oh, it is enjoyable!" You declared after removing your finger from your mouth, a wide smile that was too white and with teeth too sharp broke across your face.

Simon stared, an unreadable expression flitting across his face for a moment before he seemed to snap out of his stupor. Clearing his throat and looking away, cheeks darkening strangely. "Yeah? You really think so?" You nodded, pointedly. "Good, that's... yeah, that's good. You, uh, wanna bowl of this when I'm done? I know you don't have to eat but it wouldn't... hurt you to try it, would it?"

For a moment, you fell silent, contemplating the idea before shaking your head. "No, it would not. I find the taste very pleasant, so I would be ammendable to having more, yes." You declared finally, gaze sliding to rest on Simon when he chuckled under his breath, repeating the word 'ammendable' with an emotion that felt warm and soft.

Simon began cooking more. As remarkable as your realm was, it wasn't capable of removing his need for normal bodily functions. He still required sleep, food, water, and other such regular, daily motions. You weren't always physically present with him--though you were always present--but when you were, you enjoyed watching him go through the art of food preperation. Content to loom at his back, pressed close and watching over his shoulder, or perch atop a counter nearby, asking questions about what he was making now.

He was following a recipe in something he called a 'cook book'. A soup. It called for chopped vegetables again. Usually, the ingredients would appear preperpared, and you hadn't put much thought into why that was, until you watched as Simon attempted to dice a carrot. The action was... much harder with only one hand, it would seem.

His frustration was growing. You could feel it rippling in the air around you. "Simon..." You uttered his name, gently, the same way you always did. Handling it with such careful reverance and draping it in starlight. "May I try?" You asked.

He paused briefly, before turning to look towards you. "You... wanna chop vegetables?" He asked, slowly.

"Yes. You have made the act of cooking and food preperation seem very interesting. I am eager to learn more," You replied, truthfully, neglecting to mention how seeing him so upset made you feel... off. Unusual. A stirring of emotions you were not acquainted with.

Simon considered your request carefully for a few moments, before giving a small nod and setting down the knife. "Alright, c'mere then," He murmured, beckoning you closer. You drifted forward without further preamble, taking his previous space in front of the cutting board. "Alright, so, pick up the knife in one hand- yeah, exactly like that," He lingered at your back, speaking lowly, fingers trembling slightly as they curled around your wrist and guided the hand not holding the blade towards the carrot. "You wanna put your other hand here, curl your fingers under your palm like- yeah, like that. Don't wanna catch your fingers with the knife. Then you bring the blade down." He let go of one wrist, moving to grab the other and guide your hand as he spoke.

You made a soft sound as the blade cut through the carrot the first time. "Yeah, like that. Good... good job," Simon murmured, sounding slightly strained. You were tempted to ask why, but he was urging you along, encouraging you to continue chopping the carrot into coins. Then, when that was done, another carrot appeared and he showed you how to use the pealer to remove the skin, and continued chopping.

A red onion was next. The spring onion, then celery. Then, finally, potatoes. They were pealed and chopped into larger cubes. You found the repetitive motions to be very pleasant. Not as pleasant as Simon's voice in your ear, uttering low encouragement and praise, however.

The meat, raw chicken, was last. On a different cutting board. "Oh," You remarked as your fingers touched it, nose wrinkling, displeasure flitting through you, "I do not like how that feels."

Simon laughed, the sound low and rich, prompting you to glance back at him. A smile curled at his lips, wide enough to make his eyes crinkle and soften his features. You had to drag your eyes back down to the unpleasant feeling slab of bird flesh. Your gaze, strangely, seemed content to defy your orders and drift back towards Simon, though.

The blade slipped. You felt the pressure of it catching a finger and stilled, gaze dropping back down to your hand. There was a slit in your flesh, though no blood or any equivalent fell. Simon tensed behind you, muttering curses under his breath as his hand moved immediately to gather your wrist--much like when you dipped a finger in the pasta sauce--and pulled it towards him. "Fuck- are you okay? Does it hurt?"

"I am fine," You assured, the flesh was already sealing itself up. "It does not hurt," You explained, flexing your fingers slowly. Simon stared at where the cut had been, lips pursed in a concerned frown. You wiggled your hand out of his grip, and gently tapped the digit against his wrist. "See?" You lifted it then, finger pointed and held directly in front of his face. "I am unharmed."

He studied it for a long moment, brow furrowed, before finally relaxing. "You need to stop scarin' me like that," He sighed, shaking his head, hair swishing with the movement.

"My apologies. It was not my intention. I found it hard to look away from your smile, it was pleasant."

Simon jerked backwards in response, hip knocking into the isle counter, arm flailing out to catch himself, a startled yelp caught in his throat. The knife was immediately dropped as you moved to follow him, your own expression pinching with concern. "Simon, are you injured?"

Despite the chicken incident--he never did explain his reaction--you found cooking to be a wonderfully pleasant experience. Whenever there was a task that Simon struggled to do with one arm, you would happily offer your services and desire to learn. It became an activity you often did together, and there was always enough for you to enjoy a plate or bowl of whatever he was making. Even if you did not require such thoughtfullness.

But regardless of a requirement for sustenance or not, it was... nice. Yes. Incredibly nice.

You found yourself oddly eager whenever such opportunities to cook together were presented to you.

Author's Note:

Aren't they just so cute?

A Google Doc of the prompts can be found here for easy copy-and-pasting!

Whumptober 2025 Prompt List

No. 1: “Please don’t cry” Lamb to Slaughter | Ceremony | Beg for Forgiveness

No. 2:  “You’ve got a lot of nerve to dredge up all my fears.” Prophecy | Sewer | Taking Accountability

No. 3: “I look in people’s windows, transfixed by rose golden glows.” Isolation | Candlelight | Found Family

No. 4: “Don’t be scared, I’ve done this before.” Non-Human Whumper | Iron Rod | Loss of Powers

No. 5: “My panic’s at the ceiling, but I’m face down on the carpet.” Quivering | Dream Journal | Phobia

No. 6: “No grave can hold my body down.” Caught in a Net | Medical Restraints | Pinned to the Wall

No. 7: “Tell me that you’re okay, and I’m fine.” Trapped with the Enemy | Elevator | Pushed Beyond Breaking Point

No. 8: “Oh horror, oh horror, what did you see?” Self-Inflicted Injury | Held at Gunpoint | Dissociation

No. 9: “We’ll make it alright to come undone.” Touch | Flashbacks | Scalding

No. 10: “There’s nothing you can ever say, nothing you can ever do.” Without Consent | Secrets | Lips Sewn Shut

No. 11: “Can you get through all the pain inside you?” Hidden Injury | Laceration | Forced Reveal

No. 12: “It’ll be for nothing.” Cardiac Arrest | Sacred Place | Withholding Medical Treatment

No. 13: “How dull is it to pause, to make an end, to rust unburnished.” Never Enough | Insignia | Forced Retirement

No. 14: “In the end, it’s worthwhile.” Ignoring an Illness | Body Bag | Wounded Caretaker

No. 15: “You can take a break, if you just tell me that it hurts.” Failed Rescue Attempt | Body Part in the Mail | Live-Streamed Torture

No. 16: “I’ve had the rug pulled beneath my feet.” Repressed Trauma | Permanent Marker | Disorientation

No. 17: “Tell me there’s a hope for me.” Internal Bleeding | Coma | Redemption

No. 18: “As the world caves in.” Dystopia | Ruins | Environmental Whump

No. 19: “You’re on your own, lost in the wild.” Dehumanisation | Living Weapon | On Patrol

No. 20: "That's New." Symptomatic | Fancy Event | Resignation

No. 21: “Sold my soul, broke my bones.” Kneeling | Makeshift Splint | Brainwashed

No. 22: “All the battles I want to win, nothing matters but giving in.” Self-Sacrifice | Collar | Hunted for Sport

No. 23: “How’d I get to this place?” Intubation | ICU | Choking

No. 24: “I must confess that I feel like a monster.” Came Back Wrong | Painful Transformation | Amnesia

No. 25: “Have you earned your stripes?” Lost Faith | Collision Course | Left to Die

No. 26: “Nothing like a relapse to rehash the kid who was scared.” Relapse | Drawn Curtains | Power Cut

No. 27: “Would you even want me, looking like a zombie?” Surgical Scars | X-Ray | Bedside Vigil

No. 28: “I could always see straight through you.” Backstabbing | Constellation | Creative Restraints

No. 29: “I hope you see the sun someday in the darkness.” Fainting | Broken Dishes | Last one Standing

No. 30:  “I’m putting my trust in an entire half-empty glass.” Burn it Down | Mirror | Confrontation

No. 31: “Even with the smallest cuts. You can still lose so much blood.” Bleeding Out | Gunshot Wound | Rescued by the Enemy

Alternatives List:

"A smile so bright, he’s the devil in disguise.”

“I hear you’re alive, how disappointing.”

“If all my days are numbered, why do I keep counting?” 

Concussion

Viral

Suicide

Immortality

Jealousy

Organ Theft

Ziptie

Deal with the Devil

Yearning

Innocent Bystander

Unreality

Soulless

“Hold my hand.”

“Oh. Oh.”