Han

You’d barely sat down at the table before Han was already halfway through his plate. “Slow down!” you laughed, watching him shovel in another bite, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk mid-snack. He tried to answer, but all you heard was a muffled “mmph—so good!” through a mouthful of food. You snorted, reaching for a napkin to dab the sauce from the corner of his lips. “You’re literally going to choke,” you said, shaking your head. He looked up at you with wide eyes, cheeks still full, and you swear you could hear the tiny squeak in your brain — he looked like a cartoon quokka come to life. Finally, he swallowed and leaned back with a dramatic sigh of satisfaction. “Okay, okay, I’m done!” he announced… right before sneaking one last bite. You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help laughing. “You’re impossible,” you teased. He grinned, his dimple deepening as he rested his chin in his hand. “You still love me though,” he said, tone playful but soft. You smirked. “Only because you’re cute when you eat like a squirrel.” He gasped in mock offense before bursting out laughing, reaching across the table to steal one of your fries. “Fine,” he said between giggles, “then you’re the nut I’m saving for later.”