#but it was that pan or the one used to fry meat and girl i am not cleaning that pan if i'm not also eating escalope thank you very much

[mishkakagehishka]

And why is that pan oliophobic anyway, i pour my olive oil in it and it refuses to spread out. I spread it out and it returns to one little blob in the centre girl no wonder my poor kajgana got scorched

[idontknowreallywhy]

Got myself in a cycle of stress editing / rewriting particular piece which will not go the way I want. So I abandoned it for now and challenged myself to just write a one-off scene that has lived in my head for a long time with no going back and editing or adjusting but just a linear splurge of words and silliness.

It’s entirely ridiculous but here it is anyway (with an affectionate nudge to @crunchyluigi @obeyweegee214 @galaxytransman)

It’s a Secret No-One Knows

6pm on Tracy island and all was quiet as Scott made his way up the stairs into the lounge.

Virgil, Gordon and Alan were still in the air on the way back from a tricky mine rescue in Northern Europe. He was grateful that success had been confirmed on comms as he’d been on the point of ignoring John’s pointed comments about flight hours and heading north.

He’d have been there with them of course if, when the call came in, he and One hadn’t already been plucking panicking, inexperienced climbers off of one of his favourite crags in the Blue Mountains. His nimble ship was always the most suited to such environments and frankly he could have done it in his sleep.

Oh, but it was such a waste of his time and fuel! Enough awful disasters happened around the world every day without people putting themselves into danger because they were more focussed on researching what shots they wanted for their vlog than on the rating of the climb they were undertaking. The names the Aussies had assigned to each route didn’t exactly help - the latest gaggle of idiots had got half way up “Does my Bum Look Big On This?” wearing entirely inappropriate shorts for the weather and got themselves tangled in each others’ safety lines while trying to take selfies from a distinctly unorthodox angle. It had taken every last ounce of self-restraint he had not to accidentally drop their phones into the ravine.

And the next one to use the word ‘gnarly’ was going to experience an Incident with the passenger loading bay door.

Over the ocean.

At Mach 19.

When had young people got so ridiculous?

And when had he stopped being one? He sighed and dragged his hands down his face. Damn, he really was getting old and grumpy.

And probably hangry, now he thought about it. Well that was fixable even if the inexorable march towards irrelevant middle age was not. He made a beeline for the fridge and found himself uninspired by the array of pre-prepared high calorie low effort snacks they usually favoured post mission. He craved something… nutritious…

Ignoring the imagined old-man mockery of the younger brothers who resided in his brain, he pulled out every fresh ingredient they had in stock: Eggs, bacon, sausages, three types of cheese, peppers, spring onions, basil… ah Ha! He knew exactly what this was going to be. A quick rummage in the larder turned up a bag of potatoes and he hefted it over his shoulder, flicking the switch on grandma’s ancient radio as he went past.

Ooh, ‘Happy 90s Hour’ was starting. One of his guilty pleasures as a teenager in the early 50s…

The repetitive peeling and dicing task combined with the irrepressibly cheery pop bangers slowly eased the knot of grouchiness in his chest. By the time he scooped the mountain of potato cubes into the dustbin-lid sized frying pan he was singing along with both halves of the Barbie Girl duet. A pleasing sizzling ensued and he grinned to himself. This was going to be epic. A little prodding with the spatula to cook them evenly then he turned the heat down and did a little slide sideways to fetch the meat and a shuffle and a hop back to add them to the pan.

As John popped up on the kitchen comm, his big brother was too busy volta-ing through the kitchen with a cheese grater to notice. Because you can’t just walk across a room when Ricky Martin is playing. John’s quizzical single eyebrow was rapidly joined by its twin as he spotted the pan on the stove… he cut the connection and leapt into the elevator, sending a message to Virgil to put his proverbial foot down.

Frittata Night was not to be trifled with.

And so it was that all four younger brothers took the elevator up from the hangar together and arrived in a state of some excitement for the culinary experience that awaited them.

As the door opened however Virgil threw out his arms to prevent them piling out. The chatter stopped immediately as they peered round the wall of brother to spy their eldest dancing to and fro at the stove and belting out the words to some ancient pop song:

So hold on to the ones who care

In the end they’ll be the only ones there

When you get old and start losing your hair

Can you tell me who will still caaaaare?

As the chorus dropped so did the jaws of Alan and Gordon for who knew their biggest brother could move his hips like that? And why was he waving the spatula that way? Alan looked wide eyed to John and pointed with a shaking hand as if to ensure his space brother was seeing the same thing he was. John, didn’t acknowledge him, instead staring straight ahead, tapping a finger on the doorframe in time with the beat. Gordon turned to Virgil unable to verbalise beyond “bu.. bu… bu…” only to find his tank of a brother smiling broadly and… his jaw dislocated further… also swaying his hips in time.

Then he was gone.

… And so was John!

Both of them jigging across the floor to join their brother in an honest to goodness dance routine while the three of them sang nonsense words. Alan lost control of his knees and collapsed cross-legged to the floor. Gordon desperately tried to grab his phone to record the moment but fumbled and dropped it down the back of the couch. And then it was over.

And there was frittata.

And if the Tinies were unusually quiet during the meal, the elder three didn’t notice as each treasured the memories of their little dance trio ‘performing’ for their biggest fan. While eating her signature dish.

Fin.

*****

You want the dance routine? Course not… but here is is anyway (Scott starts singing at about 0:40, chorus and excellent hip action kick in at about 0:52)

Edit to add: Weirdly specific note because the precise image is apparently super important to me (clearly been sucked in by the child watching Strictly) and because I forgot there are two types of Volta… this is the move I mean - the samba one (skip to 1:44 of the video and it’s just a few seconds).

[moshywoosh]

Open Season's Problem

Make no mistake about it, the movie “Open Season” is really open season on hunters.

The animated feature currently playing takes aim at hunters who take aim at animals and sums up the rest of the gun-toting population as buffoons.

This is a propaganda film designed to plant the idea in the minds of America’s children that animals are more or less cuddly good guys and hunters are bad guys.

Before a non-hunting co-worker took his kindergarten-aged daughter to see the movie, I asked him to watch how the hunters were portrayed. He reported that the hunters were shown in a stereotypical manner — as yahoos who slobbered, drove pickups and spoke with Southern accents.

Shaw (voiced by Gary Sinise), the ultimate dingbat, is indeed a bloodthirsty, law-breaking, fanatical poacher. In short, someone any respectable hunter would disavow and turn over to the conservation police faster than turning over a flapjack in a frying pan. I expected the animals to be cute, gooey caricatures that would make me cringe. But Boog, the grizzly bear with an identity crisis (Martin Lawrence), was quite tolerable. His unwanted deer sidekick Elliot (Ashton Kutcher), is a mass of insecurities that make him annoying, but who occasionally displays a standup comic’s wit.

“Open Season” is for kids who have no powers of discernment, but the script is for adults who have to chaperone them. So there definitely are chuckles. Even Shaw gets to mouth off cleverly once. During a yelling match with a female park ranger whom he calls “Girl Scout,” he says, “Put me down for a box of thin mints.”

Boog was a cub rescued in the wild and raised by Ranger Beth. He lives in her garage, has his own Teddy Bear and knows he has a good deal getting three squares a day and watching TV. Elliot leads Boog into mischief, and reluctantly, Ranger Beth relocates Boog to the mountains to begin a normal life as a wild bear, minus the room service. (The shifts back and forth between unrealistic fantasy and occasional common-sense environmental policy can leave you dizzy, and it’s not the way animals would actually be rehabilitated.)

Boog is a bear who has no affinity for the woods and no idea how to use his growling, intimidating size and super strength to protect himself or his friends. All he wants to do is go home to his Marriott-like garage space.

Wild man Shaw, determined to plug Elliot and Boog, is in the way and wreaks catastrophe wherever he goes. He was nuts from the get-go and is completely looney-tunes by the end of the flick. He has spent a lifetime operating on the assumption that man is at the top of the food chain and now he envisions an animal conspiracy, with pets “as double agents,” seeking to take over the world.

Legal hunting season opens and hunters from the Yellowstone-area-like town of Timberline head to the woods, where they raise tents, light campfires and begin hunting. They are met by an animal rebellion that features Boog, Elliot, skunks, deer, squirrels, rabbits, beavers and anything else that is around.

The hunters are routed and the animals live happily ever after in the forest, which Boog realizes is his true home. The unexplained, strangest part of “Open Season” is its apparent disdain for rabbits. It is indeed curious that rabbits are treated as disposable trash. What’s up with that?

Of course, not for one second does an honest, nature-loving outdoorsman appear on the screen. Not one sentence is uttered explaining how hunters love the woods, use the meat from their kills to feed their families or are conservationists whose hunting prevents species overpopulation.

And it never mentions that grizzly bears often eat other animals.

Oh, well, it won’t be long until new movies are released and it will be closed season on “Open Season.”

@ilovescaredysquirrel2

[who-scrambled-my-ocs]

Eggs

This started as fave egg recipes and devolved into anything involving “egg” XD

Also not everyone’s on here cause some didn’t inspire anything really interesting. I can add if asked B)

-

Neora: Living in Arcaelys, the land of the elves, most of her experiences have been with sweet foods and dishes. Beyond cakes and patisserie, she rarely gets variety in egg dishes. She thus doesn’t often cook it for herself and prefers alternatives during breakfast like toast with jams and butters.

However, on her visits to her mother she has often been treated to highly savoury foods like egg curry, egg chatamari, and the highly popular spicy fried boiled eggs which has left her with a nostalgic craving each time she heads back home with her dad. Her dad has occasionally requested herbs in order to make it as the occasional treat for them both during special occasions as she grew up. One of the few Arcaelys raised elves who often eats savoury foods

-

Tireal: similar palette to his daughter Neora, if perhaps more elven inclined. Enjoys sweet egg dishes greatly and is less prepared for the spicy dishes his ex-wife prepared for him and their daughter, often being left red faced and wheeze-laughing through tears as his littol girl giggled at his silly face, smiling fond at the chuckles of his former partner

-

Evan: Scrambled, he likes to crack the eggs straight in the pan and toss the shells in one swift move, which has been upgraded to Taren the moss-fae-fox snatching em up midair to crunch on as excellent fertiliser for his fur, much to Evan’s amusement.

Evan himself will continue to shake and agitate the eggs until they’re fluffy with light crunchy bits in between, adding some thyme, salt and pepper to the mix. If he’s making breakfast meat with it, he’ll use the oil of that to fry said eggs in

-

Sia: Usually sunny side up. But doesn’t even actually like eggs all that much, and has had the existential crises thought of wondering if that’s because she’s technically a Mythical Bird

However that thought was quickly confuddled upon observing little Raspberry absolutely going to town on an egg, pecking and chipping it to smithereens, gulping it down faster than she could think, and then watching Raspberry fly off into the sunrise to build another nest. An experience which has left her with a whirlwind of thoughts about biology, life, magic, her own self, and what it all means in the grand scheme of things despite Fate not existing.

Drowns her sunny side up eggs in cinnamon now so she does not have to go through another existential rabbit hole while eating breakfast with everyone present. Can’t think about eggs when ya can’t taste em. Hehe…

-

Felix: An absolute feast at his theìa’s house, scrambled eggs with tomatoes fried in olive oil, oregano, basil and crumbled feta on top. Something he’d devoured in a hurry with his brother and cousins, before rushing out the door to play as his mama and theìa gossiped the hot day away, a full stomach warming his thin frame as dust swirled around his running feet.

Something he took so greatly for granted, as all kids do, and shed tears over when he ate again at his theìa’s house many, many years later. Felix’s soft spot is food, and the feeling of being finally satiated after a meal is a feeling he treasures dearly with every spoonful of delicious kayanas and his theìa fussing over him

-

Lucas: Despite appearances, Lucas is as much an excellent cook as his husband is, considering he learned much from him. His literal sea life diet of raw fish and unfortunate human flesh has long been put aside for more, palatable sushi and richer, livelier, Chosen prey.

As thus, he has learned to cook his meals with a patience that is almost reverent as he carefully lowers eggs in perfectly cooked sauce, poaching them to a perfect consistency. Uova All’inferno, Eggs in purgatory in Italian, and yes, he still enjoys gulping them whole with an amused irony at the name as he considers his own nature. But its rich and warm and perfectly done, and he savours every moment of it

-

Bruno: Frittata al tartufo, Uova All’inferno, Frittata di zucchine, Deviled eggs, etc etc etc. He’s had so many egg dishes he’s long lost count of all he’s tried, and all he’s made uniquely his own. With so many recipes, one would expect something fancy and rich and over the top to be his favourite, no?

Surprisingly, it’s the simple dish that captures his interest best here. A simple sunny side up, cooked very similar to Lucas’s own purgatory poached eggs, heaped with flavourful ingredients on the side true. But the simple egg yolk is allowed to shine as it practically melts over the rest of the dish, adding a rich flavouring only the basics sometimes can give, being a spotlight on their own.

-

Lewis: Easter eggs. As a baker and pattiserier he would often spent countless hours painting food safe dyes onto chocolate eggs, placing a basket up front of his shop for the kids to come and choose one out of.

Had an extra special batch he’d make just for Mairae and her kids, blushing greatly as he offered the sweet strawberry filled treats to the trio and sighing fondly as they left his shop, happy for the rest of the day (but no he definitely wasn’t in love. Definitely not. No no)

-

Flint and Rho: Both love a good hard boiled egg, with Flint chomping into it and eventually eating it straight whole as he grows bigger than the egg. Rho will take sweet little bites, and make happy smacks and coos in between each nibble

-

Yarrow: Who cares about what Sia and Evan’s deadbeat dad liked? But for lore sake it will be said, he never learned to properly cook. Mooched off his parents spoiling and complained constantly about everything put on his plate to them. “Praised” Mairae highly on her learning how to cook human dishes early in the relationship while simultaneously chipping at her self confidence with passively hurtful comments, knowing full well what he was doing.

Rotten fucking egg through and through

-

Juliette: *spoilers. Reminder to add once introduced*

-

Denise *spoilers. Reminder to add once introduced*

-

Seth: *spoilers. Reminder to add once introduced*

[belaprus]

Dottore x reader: being his assistant (pt.9)

You used to be so frustrated when he was avoiding confrontation with you... Yet there you stood, in front of his lab door, waiting for your muscles to move on their own and get you in. You already had the keys, it's just you didn't know where to begin to explain Dottore your adventure on that day: since a large amount of rocks had fell onto the usual path you were taking to come to the lab, you had decided to go another way - which obviously led you to getting lost and risking your life at least twice. After what had happened the day before, you couldn't even make out if you were more irritated by how he had treated you or embarrassed by your own half-assed confession. What you knew for certain was that you didn't want to see him. This was such a critical moment for your relationship - if something was to go wrong, you wouldn't be able to fix it anymore and all of your research on him would get ruined.

You were about to turn your keys to open the door, when you suddendly jumped at the feeling of something touching your shoulder. All you managed to do was to rapidly turn around and scream upon seeing a man covered in blood. Dottore was startled by your sudden reaction, but after a second he bursted out laughing:

"I didn't expect to see you here at this hour, little assistant", he managed to say while choking with laughter.

--------------

After having mocked her to his heart's content, he noticed she was absolutely furious. Despite wanting to tease her more, a wolf's howl and the first falling snowflakes had alerted him enough to stop on his tracks:

"The sun is setting. We'd better enter as soon as possible"

She didn't respond. 'Such a hopelessly proud girl' "If you don't want to enter, at least let me. Snezhnayan mountains at night is not a sight I'm particularly fond of"

She pouted at him: "Like you're gonna leave me here in the cold and live enough to tell"

"Don't test me", now he was dead serious.

She made sure to highlight every one of her slow steps as she entered first, still pouting. He had half an idea to just push her down the stairs and step on her, but by the time the thought had crossed his mind the trip was already over.

As the two of them were inside, he carefully laid the dead deer over the hospital bed on the other room and grabbed a skinning knife to get the work done. He felt her watching the process from a corner, without even entering the room. He could also tell that she didn't like game's smell: she was plugging her nose, disgust planted all over her face. It was funny how she would watch children being dismembered without batting an eye but would be this sensible to such a natural smell. He figured she wouldn't comply because of her proud nature, so he didn't care much about it.

As the first step was completed, he returned to his research room, which also served as a kitchen. After putting most of the meat into the freezer, he laid the rest on a frying pan. When he was about to mix in some slime secretion, she suddendly grabbed his wrist: "Are you for real?!"

Despite his deadly stare, she continued: "Slime secretions aren't even edible! Let me handle this"

"I mean, I understand your womanly instinct wouldn't let me have the kitchen for myself... But I can assure you I've been living on this long enough to be certain it's not unedible"

"It's such a waste to cook deer that way!". As he was disappointed in her completely ignoring his misogynist joke, she had completely removed him from the stoves before he could even realize it.

" “You're no kid anymore” ", he mocked her, trying to imitate her annoying little voice from the time she had said the exact same sentence. He was barely left with the time to avoid a wooden spoon flying his way. He was completely stunned: "Did you just throw a spoon at me? The 2nd Fatui Harbinger?!"

"I didn't wanna waste any food by throwing the pan"

"Seriously...!"

----------

You only had the time to let go of the pan before he had grabbed you, holding you by your hips and swiftly turning you around to face him. The tension between you two could be easily touched, at that point: "Let go of me...!"

"Don't you dare give me orders, you little thing"

"Do you want to be electrocuted or something?!"

In a second, you were thrown to the wall, blocked by your wrists: "And tell me, what will happen if you try? Do you really think I can't defend myself from this helpless, mortal power of yours? There's a limit to naivety, my little assistant", his mischevious smile was sending shivers down your spine.

Your eyes widened as they locked on his, a wild stare on you. You knew he had full control over the situation, and you weren't sure what would become of you. You felt your options narrowing down to two in a single moment: either he was killing you on the spot, or something else was happening. The second option was the scarier. 'I mean, he could make me his new test subject, torture me, or-' "I would pay to know exactly what your little brain is processing right now. Care to tell me?". You turned pale, knees getting weak as he slowly closed up distances, his breath already on your neck before you could react. From your side, you could still feel his scarlet eyes watching your every move. You were on the verge of tears:

"M-meat looks cooked enough. Will you please let go of me?" was all you could say, stuttering on your own words like a little kid. "Hmm?", he shifted to the other side of your head, gaze flickering on your earring for but a second, then back to attacking your eyes: "You might be right, judging by the color". He was definitely not referring to the meat.

-------------

When had it all started? Was it her being that close, her voice, or her smell... What was it exactly that had him this turned on? He didn't know. He wasn't good at pinpointing emotions other than rage, nor was he sure to be even capable of feeling them anymore... until he had met her. She was like a bolt from the blue, carrying so many new experiences into his life: some he didn't like, but others were very interesting. For instance, this was the latter. He could feel her breathing unevenly, trembling under him, and that alone was already making him see stars. 'She's definitely the funniest doe I've ever met', he agreed with his own thoughts... Then he realized his body was shaking too. Had he ever experienced this before? The feeling was very similar to the thrill of hunting, but at the same time he knew that there was so much more to it. Not to dwell on that sensation for too long, he let go of her at once and finally extinguished the stoves' fire:

"Indeed, food is ready"

[handspunyarns]

You Were Marked: Day Two.

pairing: din djarin x fem!O/C

word count: 3K 

summary: Girls didn’t learn things, but the boys did. 

warnings: Mando'a and English cursing

You Were Marked: Masterlist

<-You Were Marked: Previous Chapter

When Din began to wake the next morning, he hadn’t the faintest clue where he was.  He felt he was floating in a cloud of fragrant herbs and dried flowers.  He could discern light, but it was softly diffused, and it rippled gently.  He took a deep breath through his nostrils, and in the background, he could detect the aroma of frying meat.  He groggily felt beside him and felt only soft fabric and the crackle of dried rushes.  His mind, somewhere in the ether between sleeping and waking asked, Where’s Grogu? He was certain that Grogu should be right beside him, that was where the child was when he laid down, but the slight imprint in the sleeping tick was empty.  Grogu’s missing, said the still-sleepy part of his consciousness, and then his eyes snapped open, and he lurched to his feet, shouting, “Grogu?  Grogu!” 

“He’s right here, Bounty Hunter!  Frith save us!”  Din blinked a couple of times, still trying to acclimate his mind to his surroundings, still groggy.  He turned to the voice to see Marathel standing at the fire, holding a frying pan in one hand and a wooden spatula in the other.  Grogu was on her chest, cozily ensconced in a large wrap that Marathel had tied around herself, eating what appeared to be a cracker.  "I woke up to find this one curled up against me, the cheeky little devil.  And now he’s dropping crumbs down my bodice, thank you very much. Oh, may he eat fruit?” 

Din rattled the helmet on his head, still not quite awake. “What?” 

Marathel tilted her head with a smirk.  “Bounty Hunters are not morning people?”  Din grunted in response as he tried to shake off the dark curtain that had wrapped itself around his leg. Marathel turned back to her counter.  “Now there’s . . . wait . . . I thought I had more bread than that.”  Din fell still.  Late last night, when all was quiet, he simply could not help himself and had absconded with another hunk of bread that he ate furtively over the dry sink.  He came over to the table, feigning casualness.  “You need not cook for me.” 

“It is already done,” replied Marathel, holding a plate in his direction.  Fried meat, some sort of cereal cake, dried fruit.  “I can give Grogu his while you eat.”  Grogu, for his part, did indeed look cheeky as he snuggled against Marathel’s bosom.  And there were tell-tale crumbs on the fabric of her green and grey layered tunic, as well as the scoop of pale skin that was above her neckline.  Grogu turned his head to look up at her, and Din watched Grogu’s large, petal-shaped ear drag softly across her skin.   She smiled down absently at Grogu, and then looked back at Din, brandishing the plate.  “Take it.  Go.  Eat.”  Din snapped out of his reverie, took the plate, and returned to the curtained cubicle without a word.  Marathel shrugged and sat down, her back to Din to give him privacy.  For a while, all Din heard was the clink of utensils and Marathel speaking softly to Grogu as he enjoyed his breakfast.  Din felt distinctly uncomfortable as he quietly and quickly ate.  She had given him privacy – in fact, she was pointedly ignoring him – but she still felt too close.  He replaced his helmet as quickly as possible and stood to return the plate – but for a moment he watched her from behind his curtains as she stood and lifted Grogu out of the wrap that had held him against her.  Grogu cooed and smiled at her, and then belched mightily into her face.  Marathel squinched her face up tight and gave a little cough, saying “Goodness.”  She then looked into Grogu’s eyes, took a breath, and belched right back, adding an ending soft blow of breath that ruffled Grogu’s hair.  Grogu squealed with laughter.  Din almost laughed himself.  He stepped out and placed his plate in the dry sink.  “Sorry about that,” he said. 

Marathel chuckled.  “No worries.  All the children growing up together, we all learned silly things.” 

“I’m not good at teaching manners.” 

She plunked Grogu back in Din’s arms.  “Oh, I suspect you do just fine.”  She began filling the sink with water to wash dishes. 

Din wiped Grogu’s chin.  “If we are to stay here for the next few days, I should go back to the ship for supplies.” 

“So, you did come here by boat.” 

Din looked at her back.  “No.  I came by ship.” 

She shrugged.  “Boat, ship.” 

Okay, now we’re back to this shab, thought Din.  “Where did you think I came from?” 

“Somewhere far away.  I’ve never seen anyone like you.” 

“Far away, yes.  I came from Nevarro.” 

“And where is that?” 

“A planet about five days from here by hyperspace.” 

Her head snapped around at this, her hands dripping with water and holding a cup.  “What are these words?  Planet? Hyper . . . Hyper . . . “ 

She has to be taking the piss, Din thought.  “Hyperspace.  I flew here.”  

Her face broke out into laughter.  “Flew here?  I’ve never heard of such a thing.”  Din simply stared at her.  Finally, her smile fell, and her cheeks colored.  Turning back to the sink, she stammered, “I  . . .  I’m sorry.  I didn’t learn anything like that at the Hold.  You must think that I’m . . .” Her voice trailed away, and she went back to her dishwashing with vigor. 

Din decided that she was neither taking the piss, nor was she mentally deficient.  She simply didn’t know.  Her frame of reference was so limited.  What was it that she said?  Girls didn’t learn things, but the boys did.  That seemed like a sad state of affairs to Din, who had a limited education himself, but at least he grew up equal to all the other children in the covert.  Without thinking further, he asked, “Would you like to see it?” 

“See what?” 

“My flying ship.” 

Her hands fell still.  “Where is it?” 

“Near the Hold.  In a flat field beyond the trees near the gate.” 

She nodded.  “I know where you mean.  I do have things I need to trade at the Hold.  Give me a few moments, I will go with you.”  Marathel finished up the dishes and disappeared into her curtains, emerging a moment later with a fresh over tunic and a wrap.  Din dragged his basket of weapons down to the steps and began to replace them on his person, feeling much less naked with every piece.  Marathel gave him a withering glance, and then climbed on the table, reached up and collected bunches of dried herbs and flowers that were hanging there.  These she put in her gathering bag, which she wore across her body.  Hopping down from the table, she came to the steps.  She gestured to Din, who was clipping on his jet pack.  “Really?” 

“Always be prepared.” 

“What are you expecting?” 

Din simply shrugged to that, and then placed Grogu in his own bag.  He looked down at her bare feet.  “Don’t you need shoes?” 

“No, I do not.”  With that, Marathel stepped down and began walking briskly away to the rocky field and the path Din had followed the day before.  Din followed and caught up with her as she paused to pick up a number of rocks from the ground.  She put the rocks in her pocket.  He thought about teasing her about her choice of weapon and then decided that she was prickly enough.  They walked in silence for a long while, listening to the crunch of his boots on the gravel.  Her feet made no noise at all, and if the gravel was hurting her feet, she gave no sign.  Soon, they were crossing the grassy field before the switchbacks that led up, when Marathel paused and gazed out into the distance.  Din stopped as well and looked out in the same direction.  “What is it?” 

“The Dahls.” 

“I don’t see anything.” 

“Wait.”  After a few moments, Din heard yip-yip-yeh noises in the distance, and then a Dahl reared up some distance away from them.  The Dahl kicked out with his back feet, launching a second Dahl into the air.  Another Dahl joined the fray, and two of the creatures fended each other off while standing on their hind legs, barking their high-pitched yips.  Marathel’s lips curved into a small smile. Grogu watched with fascination at the large creatures. 

“What are they doing?” asked Din. 

“Showing off.” She turned and continued on the path. 

“How many were out there?” 

She stopped and gazed out over the field. “Twelve or fourteen, I think. I’m not sure. There are only two out there that I’ve bonded with.” 

“How many have you actually bonded?” 

“Originally, six.” Marathel began walking again. 

“And how did that come about?” 

She took a breath and stole a glance at him. Her hands went into her sleeves. “I was younger then. I was changing but I was still in the kitchen. A basket of eggs had been brought in the day before. Diwhyn Olba -- she raised me, and she was a Whyn then – kept me there even though I was changing. The next night, I kept hearing crying. It wasn’t like a baby crying, or even an animal I knew, but the crying was keeping me awake, so I went to where the fires were. The eggs were kept in a clay pot near the fire to keep them warm, and that was where the crying was coming from. So, I spilled out the whole pot of eggs. Six of them hatched right in front of me, and they stopped crying immediately and tried to climb into my gown. I put all the rest of the eggs back and ran to the cooler room to feed the hatchlings – they're hungry when they hatch, you know – but Diwhyn Olba found me.  She was so furious with me! I thought for sure she would strip my hands, but I told her I had to, because they were crying. It was that same night that she . . . she took me out of the Hold and took me to the old herder’s hut, where I live now.” She fell silent.  

They continued to walk. By now they were at the switchbacks, and they had to walk single file. Marathel took the lead, her head down, her hands in her sleeves. Din watched her walk, her hips swaying back and forth in that way that only women walk. Finally, he asked, “How old were you? When you left the Hold?” 

“How old? I don’t understand those words.” 

“Your age, how many years?” 

“You say many things I don’t know. I was changing at the time, so I was not a child, but I wasn’t a Whyn yet. Does that make sense?" 

“How long have you been living at the hut?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. Many seasons, many cycles of the Luad Dycwingen.” Din considered these words. She kept saying changing, so he assumed that meant she was an adolescent when she bonded with the Dahls and was brought to the hut. How long ago that was, he couldn’t tell, as he didn’t know what the moon cycle was. Her hair might be silver, but he’d been around long enough to know that hair color didn’t dictate age. How long had she been alone?  

By this time, they’d come to the top of the switchbacks between the two large boulders. Marathel stopped short, as if reluctant to go further. Finally, she said, “The Hold is just ahead. Go before me and go directly into the trees. I will follow.” She stepped against the boulder to let him pass, and he followed her directions, waiting in the trees. He watched as she slowly stepped up to the level ground. Then she rushed forward, dropped her bag, knocked on the door in a complicated pattern, and then rushed into the trees to hide. They waited. Marathel watched from behind her tree, a nervous hand tapping on the smooth bark. After a couple of minutes, the gate opened just enough for a woman wearing a faded red gown and a full-face veil to come out. The woman exchanged the bag Marathel had left for another one. The woman looked out into the trees, and she must have seen Marathel, as she raised a hand in a small wave. Marathel returned the wave, and the woman disappeared back behind the gate, closing the door. Marathel waited for a few moments, ran to collect the bag, and hurried back into the trees. For a few moments, she leaned her back against a tree, breathing hard – not from exertion, but panic – with her eyes closed. Din waited silently. Marathel made an effort to slow her breathing, and she opened her eyes to see Din watching her. Looking away, she dashed the tears off her cheeks and walked past him. They walked again in silence, until they were interrupted by the chatter of the same kind of furry creature that had startled Din when he had first arrived. They both stopped walking. Marathel spotted the critter in a tree. She kept her eye on the furry thing and reached into her pocket. Din whispered, “What is that?” 

“A dycwingen,” she whispered back. 

“That’s . . . not a rabbit.” 

She chucked a stone right at the critter, beaning it between the eyes. It fell to the forest floor. “Whatever it is, now, it’s dinner,” she said, collecting the carcass. Grogu chattered in approval, and she stroked his furry little head, accidentally brushing her fingertips against Din’s hip. She pulled her hand back quickly, and Din pretended to not notice. 

A short while later, they finally reached the clearing where the Razor Crest was parked. Marathel came up short, just staring at the ship. Din watched as she crept closer, tilting her head this way and that. She finally got close enough to reach out a tentative hand. “Don’t touch that,” he said, more sharply than he had intended. Her hands went immediately into her sleeves. More gently, he said, “This way.” He led her to the side of the ship, and he opened the ramp, which slowly opened with a loud grinding noise and a blast of steam. Marathel jumped back about 3 meters at the sound. Once the ramp was opened, Din walked halfway up, turned, and reached out a hand to her. “Come on. It’s okay.” Grogu also called out to her with his babble. Eyes wide, Marathel approached, and lifted her bare foot to tentatively set it on the ramp. Feeling the metal under her foot, she looked at Din. “The ramp might be slippery for you. Take my hand.” Slowly, she reached out, and he took her bare hand in his gloved one. She swallowed and bit her lip but allowed him to assist her up the ramp. She let go of his hand as quickly as she could, and then stared at the ship’s interior. Her eyes could not possibly get any larger as she turned around and around, looking at every surface. Finally, she asked, “This thing flies?” 

“Yes.” 

“How?” 

Din couldn’t help it; he was smiling. Her bewilderment was charming, somehow. “There are these propulsion engines, and they . . . “ Marathel continued to gape. “It . . . just does.” He gestured to the ladder that led to the cockpit. “Come on up.” He climbed the ladder. She climbed up after him, and he again gave her his hand to assist her. Once she was off the ladder, he dropped her hand immediately and lifted Grogu out of the bag and into the captain’s chair. “Watch this,” he said, flipping the switches that brough all the controls to life. The ship responded with a loud hum. Marathel felt the vibrations through her feet and into the center of her, and she grabbed the co-pilot's seat with a small shriek. The controls all came to light, which seemed to startle her even more. She gripped the chair until her knuckles turned white, and she cried out, “Stop it! Stop it, please!”  

Din immediately killed the engines, holding out a hand towards her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

She still looked panicked. “I’m all right, I’m sorry . . . Just . . . let me out.” 

By this time, Grogu had climbed into his pram, which floated out of the cockpit and into the main part of the ship. This startled Marathel all over again, and Din had to talk her down the ladder. She ended up sitting on the floor in the cockpit to get on the ladder, reaching out with an impossibly long leg just inches from Din’s face. When her feet were finally on the floor, she rushed down the ramp, her feet sliding on the last few feet, launching herself about 2 meters away. The pram floated down towards her, which she stared at with confusion as Din said, “Just wait there. I’ll be right out.” He spent a few minutes collecting some supplies for himself and Grogu. By the time he had battened down the ship and come down the ramp, Marathel seemed much calmer — probably because of Grogu’s presence in the pram — and was on her hands and knees on the ground, waving her hand under the floating pram. Sitting back on her heels, she said, “Well, I’ll be.” 

“it’s useful.” 

“It’s clever, is what it is.” She stood back up, brushing off her knees. 

“All you all right?” 

She nodded. Her head went down, her hands into her sleeves. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. If it’s something you’re not accustomed to . . . it can be frightening.” 

She looked up at the ship again. “It’s . . . so cold.” 

“I do have climate control on the ship.” 

“No, it’s . . . just . . . cold.” She was obviously struggling for the words but decided not to continue. “Let’s go back this way. I don’t want to go by the Hold again.” She turned away and began walking. Din followed, with the pram in tow. 

You Were Marked: Next Chapter ->

[kelyon]

Courtship 6: Second Date--Dinner

Lacey has a date at Mr. Gold's house

Read on AO3

The goosebumps on Lacey’s bare legs were bigger than her boobs, but Mr. Gold’s reaction was worth it. The light from the Cadillac’s dashboard shone a gleam into his dark eyes, a faint glimpse of white teeth when he grinned.

“Miss French.” His voice lingered over her name. “What a lovely skirt.”

“Thank you, Mr. Gold,” she smiled. 

She made sure the red skirt covered her backside as she slid into the passenger seat. It wouldn’t do to rub her naked pussy all over Mr. Gold’s leather--at least not until she knew if he’d like that. 

He reached over and put one hand on her leg. His hands were big enough to span the whole of her thigh. The black leather gloves contrasted so much against her white skin she could see the shape of him even in the dark. Heat seeped through his gloves onto her flesh. He gave her a squeeze and put the car into drive. The whole way to his house, he kept his hand on her.

Miss French shivered, even as she warmed up. She had done what Mr. Gold asked, and he was going to reward her for it. This was going to be a good night.

****

This time, Mr. Gold took her to the back door of his house. It opened up into a kitchen that was about half the size of Lacey’s entire apartment. All the appliances were shiny and new. Everything was so clean it looked like it had never been used. There were no dirty dishes in the sink, no crumbs or stains on the counter, no layer of greasy grime on the cupboard doors.

“Wow,” Lacey said as she looked around. “This place looks serious.”

“That is the impression I try to give people,” Mr. Gold said wryly. He ushered her inside and went to the front hall to take off his coat. When he came back, he had also taken off his suit jacket.

Lacey had never seen him without a jacket on. She licked her lips. 

Mr. Gold kept moving. He took an apron off a hook on the wall and tied it behind his back. Then he went over to a massive stove and pulled some covered dishes out of the oven. He set them on trivets on the counter, then took the lids off to check the contents inside. Apparently satisfied with what he saw and smelled, Mr. Gold put the lids back on and turned away. He picked up a frying pan from a rack over the stove and spun it in his hand before putting it on top of an unlit burner. He turned to her. 

“Would you like to fetch some things for me, Miss French?”

Lacey stood up straight. Miss French was ready to do whatever he asked. “Yes, Mr. Gold.”

“In the icebox you’ll find a roll of butter and a plate with steaks on it. Bring them to me.”

“Yes, Mr. Gold.”

The inside of his fridge was just as spotless as the rest of the kitchen. Everything was organized. Matching glass containers stacked on top of each other in neat rows. There was enough room to set a plate down on the center shelf without having to wedge it on top of three other things. 

The steaks were smaller than she would have hoped, each one about the size of a hockey puck. Lacey had never seen steaks that were round before--maybe this was something new. She brought the plate and the butter over to Mr. Gold. 

“Good girl.” 

He didn’t put any special emphasis on the words, but they were still enough to make Miss French blush. He saw her reaction, and grinned. 

“Do you like making yourself useful, Miss French?”

“I-I guess so,” Lacey shrugged. “Never really had much of a choice in the matter. I grew up hearing that there was always something that needed doing.”   

Mr. Gold made a thoughtful sound. 

He had rolled up his sleeves to pick up the meat and press it into  some kind of spice mixture. This was the first glimpse Lacey had ever gotten of his wrists. In a normal relationship, wrists wouldn’t be something to get hot and bothered over, but nothing that was going on between her and Mr. Gold was normal. 

That was why she liked it so much. 

He melted butter in the frying pan, tilting it from side to side to spread the butter around. The steaks sizzled when he added them to the hot pan.

“Now,” he nodded back to the fridge. “There’s a jar of beef stock and a container of minced shallots. Will you bring them to me?”

Lacey bit her lower lip. ‘Beef stock’ meant absolutely nothing to her, unless he was talking about some Wall Street financial thing. She knew she had read the word ‘shallot’ before, in the context of vegetables and good food, but she couldn’t picture one in her mind. 

“Um. What do those things look like?”

Mr. Gold’s smile was surprisingly warm. “The beef stock is a brown liquid, it should be in a glass jar close to the door. Shallots look like finely chopped purple onions.”

“Oh,” she said. It sounded so simple when he said it. Like something everybody knew. Like something Lacey would know if she wasn’t such a stupid Old Town yokel. Low-class, that’s what she was. Ignorant. Why was he even bothering with her?

Because she had potential. That’s what he had said last time. Because she was interested in the same weird shit he was an expert in. Because she was willing to learn, to become something better than what she was.

Miss French found the beef stock and the minced shallots. When she got back to Mr. Gold, he had flipped over the steaks and was in the process of putting them on a platter and putting the platter in the warm oven.

He took the ingredients with thanks and another wave of heat washed over her. He measured out a wooden spoonful of shallots and cooked them in the frying pan with the meat drippings. 

“You’ll want to stand back for this,” he said. There was a short bottle of some kind of booze on the counter beside him. He took the bottle and poured out a generous glug into the pan. Then, like a madman, Mr. Gold tipped the pan forward into the burner so the alcohol ignited. For a few seconds, he had a frying pan full of orange flames over the stove. 

He looked at Lacey as he controlled the fire, grinning at her with perfect confidence.

“Jesus,” she whispered.

“Not remotely.” Mr. Gold gave her a devilish wink.

When the alcohol flames burned themselves out, Mr. Gold added the beef stock to the pan. He gave the mixture a stir and set it down on low heat.   

Then he busied himself with rolling his sleeves back into place. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out two little doodads made of gold. When he fastened them to his sleeve ends, the words ‘cuff links’ popped into Lacey’s head. Another thing she had read about but never encountered in real life before. 

  “Now,” he said. “I’m going to plate up our dinner, but I want you to bring the plates into the dining room.” He brushed by her, lingering only long enough to hiss into her ear--“Serve me.”--and then he was on the other side of the kitchen.

Lacey let out a shuddering breath. The order was so quick and so quiet, it might have never happened at all. It might have been subconscious, might have been planted directly into her head--though her head was not where Lacey most keenly felt the effects. 

Miss French shivered and then obeyed.

Mr. Gold had set the plates on the counter. Two identical pieces of meat supported leaning stalks of asparagus in front of a cloud of mashed potatoes. A brown sauce covered the meat and dripped artful dots onto the unoccupied white china. Their plates at Bella Notte hadn’t looked this elegant.

Carefully, Miss French took a plate in each hand. She didn’t know where Mr. Gold’s dining room was, but there was only one door out of the kitchen, so she could make an educated guess. 

Mr. Gold was seated at the head of a long, dark table. He had taken the apron off and  put his jacket back on. There was a second place set at his left side. Miss French placed a plate in front of him, then walked behind him to put the other where she was going to sit. The chair was already pulled out for her. 

Again, Miss French made sure to smooth the back of her skirt and make sure she didn’t leave a mess on the embroidered seats of Mr. Gold’s dining room chairs. He saw her do it, and he grinned.

“Dare I hope that you remembered the second part of my proposal?” He poured red wine into her glass, then his own. “It wasn’t just that you wear a red skirt.” 

Miss French’s cheeks burned, but she looked him in the eye. “I remembered, Mr. Gold.”

“If I were a coarser man, I’d make you prove it to me before I allowed you to eat.” He picked up his fork. “But you are a guest in my home, Miss French, so I’ll permit you a touch of courtesy.”   

“You’ve been nothing but courteous, Mr. Gold.” Miss French took a cloth napkin out of a gold napkin ring engraved with a G. She set the napkin delicately in her lap. “After all, what more could a good host offer his guest than a series of screaming orgasms?”  

Mr. Gold’s knife scraped harshly against his plate. He cleared his throat. “You have high expectations, Miss French.”

“So do you, Mr. Gold.” She picked up her glass of red wine, determined not to flinch at the taste like she had at the restaurant. “I’m just trying to match you.”

She took a sip of the wine, and blinked. It wasn’t bad this time! It wasn’t bitter or dry or whatever bullshit people said about wine. It was fruity and sweet, like something Lacey would actually drink. 

Mr. Gold was watching her, his expression somewhere between amused and pleased. “Tolerable?” he asked her.

“Extremely.” Miss French took another drink then set the glass down. She made sure to turn it so Mr. Gold wouldn’t see her lipstick marks on the golden rim. 

“I selected a sweeter vintage than the Marias we had at the restaurant,” he said. “This is a Cocteau, from the year 1946.”

“You know those words don’t mean anything to me,” Lacey admitted. 

Mr. Gold smiled indulgently. “It’s a good wine,” he said. “Sweet and simple, for a… less refined palate.”

Lacey’s face went hot. Was she ever going to stop feeling like an idiot around him? Mr. Gold was so cultured and classy. She had to be better if she was going to be good enough for him. 

“I am willing to expand my tastes,” Miss French defended herself. “I just have a lot to learn.”

“Of course you do.” Mr. Gold gazed at her over his own glass. He took a slow sip, then swallowed. Still looking at her, he licked his lips. “You need a teacher.”

Lacey gave a self-effacing grin. “I did always get good grades in school.” 

“I recall,” Mr. Gold said. “Valedictorian.”

She looked down at her plate, silently cut into her meat. The knife slid through the steak like it was butter. Under a layer of crisp brown char, it was a dark, luscious red. 

“In retrospect,” she said. “I think being praised for my supposed intelligence is the worst thing that could have happened to me.”

“Really?”

“Good grades don’t equate to actual intelligence. School is just memorizing answers people have already told you and then maybe writing a paper about it. And spending your life with your nose in a book means you never get to experience anything that isn’t on the page. Thinking any of that stuff will get you anywhere… it’s just stupid.”

“It could have gotten you into college, if your circumstances had been different.”

She shook her head. “Even that was never really a guarantee, just a promise. And promises are broken all the time.”

To keep herself from talking more, she finally took a bite of her steak. Her mouth exploded with pepper and salt and the rich, savory sauce. The meat pressed between her tongue and the roof of her mouth and started to melt. It seemed to slide down her throat without her even having to chew it.

“Oh my God,” Lacey whispered. 

Mr. Gold grinned at her. “Never had filet mignon before, Miss French?”

If she opened her mouth, the flavor might escape, so she just shook her head.

“It’s steak au poivre, to be specific. Now that you’ve tasted it, try the wine again.”

She picked up her glass and took a sip. The splash of fruit and sweetness that had been perfectly pleasant a few minutes ago now seemed like a revelation. The flavors of wine and meat clashed and cut through each other in a cacophony that was also, somehow, a symphony. 

“Oh, wow.”

Mr. Gold chuckled and went back to his own meal. “You have good taste, Miss French. You can appreciate the finer things in life. Your only deficit is a lack of experience.”

Miss French swallowed. Pacing herself, she shifted her focus away from the filet mignon. The steamed asparagus was crisp and fresh, seasoned with lemon juice. The potatoes were creamier than anything she’d ever eaten before, and smoother than anything besides the filet mignon.

“Do you eat like this all the time?”

Mr. Gold scoffed. “Like this? All this butter and red meat? No.” He carved off a slice of filet mignon, and placed it on his tongue. He savored it for a moment, then swallowed. “No, tonight is a night of indulgences. For both of us, I think.”

“The mashed potatoes are excellent.” She took tiny forkfuls, to make it all last longer. 

“Technically,” Mr. Gold said, “they are whipped potatoes.” 

Despite her better manners, Lacey snorted. “I suppose that makes sense, given the kind of stuff you’re into.”

Mr. Gold wasn’t grinning, but his eyes held that peculiar gleam. “Does the thought repulse you?”  

“If it did, I would have told you last time. Or I wouldn’t have come back.”

“Being with me is only going to become more intense, Miss French.”

“I like a challenge.” She stared into Mr. Gold’s eyes. “Is it really going to be whips and chains and stuff?”

“I ask again, does the thought repulse you?”

“No.” Miss French spoke with absolute conviction. “If I’m honest with you, Mr. Gold, I’d say it kind of excites me.”

His grin this time was wide, something almost close to genuine. Miss French’s heart skipped a beat. She had made him happy. 

Fuck, she wanted to keep making him happy. 

“Of course, I always want you to be honest with me. Particularly about what excites you.” He had only eaten half of his filet mignon. He cut off a final sliver and then pushed his plate away. “Now, finish your meal. We need to put this table to better use.” 

“What use is that?” Miss French asked, even as heat raced through her. 

“I invited you here so I could have you for dinner, Miss French. That is precisely what I mean to do.”

****

When the meal was done and the plates were cleared, Mr. Gold had Miss French sit on top of the table. He placed her on the long side, near where she had been eating. Once again, Lacey made sure her skirt was arranged so a layer of fabric was between the polished wood and her naked flesh. Once again, Mr. Gold saw what she was doing and snickered. 

“Do you think you’re fooling anyone, Miss French?” He stood in front of her, his hands on the table, his arms boxing her in on either side. Mr. Gold wasn’t a big man, but he knew how to use his body. He leaned in, his breath hot on her ear. “You act so demure, so ladylike. Do you think people can’t see what you really are?”

Shivering, she gripped the edge of the table. “What am I, Mr. Gold?”

“You tell me,” he said quietly. He placed one hand on her bare thigh, his fingers just brushing her hemline. “If people in this town knew you were coming here, to my house, without a stitch of clothing on under your skirt, only because I’d asked you to, and only after I had given you money--what would they call you?”

There was an incredible stillness inside Miss French. The kind of stillness that can only be found when a vibrating object meets another object vibrating at the exact same frequency and they cancel each other out. The truth of Mr. Gold’s words met the truth of her reality and everything stopped. It was a moment of perfect clarity, perfect understanding. Most importantly, it was a moment of perfect acceptance. She knew what she was, what she had always been deep down. All Mr. Gold was asking her to do was admit it. 

“I’m a slut.” Her voice sounded strange, but she couldn’t stop herself from talking. “That’s what people would say. They’d say I’m a bad girl, a whore.” She blinked. Her Uncle Manny’s face flashed in front of her. Heat pooled in her eyes. “They’d say the smartest kid in Storybrooke should know better than to associate with you.”

Mr. Gold held her face, forced her to look at him. “Are you a kid, Miss French?”

“No, Mr. Gold.”

“Then what are you?”

“I’m a woman.” She swallowed. She tried to remember what he’d told her in the shop when he’d given her the money to buy her skirt. “I’m a woman who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to get it.”

Still holding her, he stroked her jaw with his thumb. “Even if you had been the smartest kid in Storybrooke, did that get you anywhere? Does that have any bearing on what you are now?”

“No, Mr. Gold.”

“Did you think it would?”

He knew she had, he was just trying to get her to say it. Anger flashed through her--at him, at herself, at the whole fucking world and all its lost potential. She stared at him, hard as a diamond. 

“I did, Mr. Gold.”

“By your own admission, what does that make you?”

“Stupid.” She closed her eyes, let the tears roll down her cheeks. “I’m stupid, Mr. Gold. And I’m a slut, Mr. Gold.”

He pressed in and kissed her. It was a surprisingly soft kiss, not like the possessive biting that had left her with a hickey that still hadn’t faded three days later. No, this kiss was gentle, reassuring. He was telling her that she had done hard work, and she had done it well. This kiss--like all signs of affection from Mr. Gold--was a reward. She kissed him back, relishing the chance to be as honest with him as she had been with herself. This was the truth. This kiss, this moment, this was more real than anything else in Storybrooke. 

She knew it in the deepest corners of her heart. 

He broke away slowly. His hands rested loosely around her neck. He pulled back the collar of her black button-down and grinned when he saw the hickey at her nape. He must have been thinking about it too.

He looked at her with warm, dark eyes. “Do you know what happens to stupid sluts, Miss French?”

She shook her head. “No, Mr. Gold.”

He pulled her towards him for another kiss. This one was short and sharp. Then he took her by the shoulders and gently pushed her down onto the table top. 

“Stupid sluts get their pussies eaten, Miss French.”

****

She lay on her back, her arms above her head on the table. For a second, she had an odd thought that was waiting for something. She felt like she ought to be moving, like some external force should be pulling her by the wrists to be in the exact position he wanted her to be in.

Lacey blinked a few times, to clear her head, then pulled herself back to the other edge of the table. Her legs dangled over the sides. She was still wearing her sensible black pumps. 

Mr. Gold stood between her legs. His cane off to the side, he rubbed her thighs with both hands. Miss French hoped her flesh was soft and tender to his touch. She wanted to be as pleasing to him as his filet mignon had been to her. She wanted him to enjoy her. God, she wanted him to devour her.

“You’re wiggling,” he observed. “I expect more self-discipline than that, Miss French.”

“Or what, you’ll tie me up?”

He squeezed her thigh and gave her a smirk. “Not this time, my dear. But perhaps I need to remind you of the rules.”

“I’m not going to touch you, Mr. Gold.”

“No, you won’t. Tonight, you’ll keep your pretty hands gripped to the edge of the table, no matter what. If you do try to touch me, or do anything cheeky, I’ll stop what I’m doing and take you home that instant.”

Miss French shivered. Threats sounded so good in his mouth. She wanted to obey him just so he would keep talking to her. 

“And you’re only going to come when I give you permission.” His fingers dug into her flesh. His grip was so strong it hurt, in the best way. He leaned over her on the table to whisper. “I intend to make it very difficult for you, Miss French. See if you can be a good girl for me.”

Breath shaking, Miss French pulled herself together enough to speak. “Am I going to get anything? If I follow the rules?”

Mr. Gold stroked the whole of her leg, thigh to ankle, contemplating her question. Thank God Lacey had taken the time to shave her legs again.

“If you obey me, my dear Miss French, if you do exactly as I say, then when we’re done here I will allow you to join me in the study.”

Miss French’s breath caught in her throat. There was nothing she wanted more than to go into Mr. Gold’s study again.

“That sounds good,” she whispered. 

“So we have a deal, dearie?” 

Mr. Gold’s grin over her was animalistic, wild. Or at least as close to wild as a man as self-controlled as Mr. Gold would allow himself to get. A desire ignited inside Miss French: Even more than she wanted the pleasures and passions he could give her, she wanted to see what his passion looked like. She wanted to make him lose control.

“Yes, Mr. Gold,” she whispered. “We have a deal.”

The briefest flash of pleasure burned in his eyes, then his face was gone. He stood between her legs again. For the first time, his hands went under her pretty red skirt. 

From the back of his throat came a dark, hungry sound. When he raised the skirt up over her waist, Miss French felt cool air against her heated body.

Cooler than it should have been. His hands were gone. After a moment, Lacey pushed herself up on her elbows so she could see what was going on.

Mr. Gold was looking down at her. He was frowning.

Lacey’s stomach plummeted.

“Is… something wrong, Mr. Gold?”

He shook his head. “More fool me not to expect it.”

“What?”

“This…” As he searched for words, he used one long finger to slide over her mound. “Carpet.”

Lacey’s face went hot. Her hair? He was annoyed because she had pubic hair? 

“Oh,” she said softly. “I’m… sorry?” 

Mr. Gold seemed so disgusted that Lacey felt like she had to apologize. Like this was some fundamental act of hygiene that she had completely ignored.

Clearly he wasn’t going to have any more use for her, at least not tonight. She started to sit up. “You don’t have to--”

“Stay where you are, you filthy creature.” His palm covered her hair. His fingers plunged into her core. Mr. Gold made a noise, pleased and ravenous. “Did you get this wet just from dirty talk? You really are a slut, Miss French.”

A high whine left her throat. Miss French drifted down to the table. “Do whatever you want to me, Mr. Gold. Whatever I deserve.”

He began to rub slow circles over her cunt. “See, that’s how I know you’re not a nice girl, dearie. Those are words a nice girl would never say.”

“I’m not a nice girl,” she whispered half to herself. “I’m a stupid slut. A filthy, stupid, whore.”

Mr. Gold grunted his agreement. He was still playing with her pussy. Two fingers sank inside her, then slowly withdrew. 

“Look at me, Miss French.”

Miss French obeyed, propping herself up on her elbows again. Mr. Gold stood in front of her with his lips parted and two fingers in front of his mouth. They glistened faintly from her juices, the fingers he had just put inside her. 

He waited until she was watching him, then he inhaled deeply through his nose. He waved his fingers in front of his face like he was swirling a wine glass. Then he brought them up to his lips.

Jesus Christ. 

He closed his eyes as he savored the taste of her. When he opened them, and saw that she was still gaping at him, he grinned. 

“I don’t normally tolerate hair in my food,” he said. “But you present too sumptuous a meal to resist.” Slick with saliva, his fingers grazed over her opening. “More importantly, I made a deal with you, Miss French. And I am nothing if not a man of my word. You held up your end of the bargain, now I am duty-bound to do my part.”

Without another word, he bent down and put his lips on her cunt.

It was surprisingly slow at first. He just kissed her. It felt like a continuation of the kiss they’d shared earlier. Mr. Gold’s mouth was gentle, coaxing. His lips brushed softly against her folds, her clitoris. Waves of pleasure rolled over Miss French’s body, but they were warm, comforting. She thought it would be new and strange to have someone eat her out--since no one ever had before--but what Mr. Gold did to her felt familiar, somehow. Like she had given him her body a thousand times already and was ready to do it a thousand times more.

Mr. Gold broke away. He looked up at her with hooded eyes. Miss French saw the sheen of moisture on his chin.

She took a breath. She tried to say something, but she couldn’t think of any words worth saying. 

He dove in again, harder now, faster. His tongue made wide, long licks across her pussy. Miss French rose up from the table, but Mr. Gold followed her. His strong hands gripped into her hips, pulling her down and forward, closer to him, closer to his mouth. 

She clutched the back edge of the table, hanging on for dear life. She wanted to grab him. It seemed so natural to touch him in this moment, to run her hands through his hair and press him closer, closer, into her most hidden center.

But Mr. Gold didn’t want her to touch him. If she tried anything like that, he would stop what he was doing and send her home. She couldn’t bear that. Miss French couldn’t tolerate even the thought of being apart from him. 

As he kept working in her--licking and sucking, pressing against her with his nose and his teeth--she felt the pleasure rise up.

“Oh,” Miss French whispered. She tried to fight off the feeling, tried to stave off her climax, but there was nothing she could do. “Mr. Gold, please!”

Immediately, he pulled away. His face rose up from between her legs like a cackling demon. 

“Good girl.” His voice was dark and rich, velvet to the ears. 

Miss French’s breath shook. She had to take several breaths before she knew for sure that she wasn’t going to come. “Th-thank you, Mr. Gold. Thank you for stopping.”

He wiped off his cheek on the inside of her thigh. “You’re not skilled enough to control yourself while I’m still stimulating you.” He gave her leg a quick kiss. “Not yet, anyway.”

He had such a practiced, easy nature when he hinted at what else he had planned for her, what her future might be if she kept playing his games. There was a casualness, a matter-of-fact certainty. Mr. Gold got what he wanted. That was just how this world worked. He would get what he wanted from her. He would mold her into whatever he wanted her to be. It was just a fact. Miss French’s only choice was whether or not she benefited from the process, whether or not she enjoyed it.

So far, she was enjoying it very much.

Mr. Gold kept eating her in fits and starts. He teased her to the brink of orgasm, then pulled away, again and again. She tried to hold herself together, tried to keep her body from doing the thing it wanted. Not yet, not until Mr. Gold said so. It didn’t matter if she wanted to come; all that mattered was if he wanted her to come. He was in control. His will was the only thing that mattered, the only thing in all the world.

Moans filled the dark dining room. Moans and grunts and the quiet, intimate noises of flesh against flesh. Mr. Gold ate her out like he was trying a musical instrument, seeing what movements on what parts produced what sounds. It seemed experimental, but he was already an expert. Somehow, Mr. Gold knew how to play her body. He knew where to find the sensitive spots, how to touch them just enough to make her squeal.

“You’re such an easy fuck,” he sneered. His hands twitched over her clit, sending out shockwaves of pleasure with every motion. “If I let you, you would have come a dozen times already.”

Just his words made Miss French clench and tighten. It was true, of course. Mr. Gold could have made her come a dozen times, a hundred times. She gripped the edge of the table so hard she probably left nail marks in the wood.

“I could just leave you like this,” he chuckled. “I could drive you back to your father’s house drenched in your own desire. Unfulfilled, unsatisfied--but you’re used to that, aren’t you Miss French?”

Lacey grit her teeth. He had one finger pushing hard against her clit and it was taking every ounce of concentration not to come.

“Answer me,” he teased her.

The best Miss French could do was nod. He pushed even harder against her. 

“That’s not what I want, dearie. You’re not going to come until you say what I want to hear.” 

“Yes!” she squeaked. The effort of holding herself together brought tears to her eyes. “Yes, Mr. Gold!”

“Good girl,” he hissed. “Now, come.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before she was thrashing against the table. He kept his hands on her for a moment as he watched her shake and flail, then he sank down to use his mouth on her again.

Miss French kept coming. Every time she thought she might be done, Mr. Gold added more fuel to her fire. His tongue probed at her, filled her, covered every inch of her. Everything he had done earlier to tease her he did again--only harder and faster and longer. Now that he wanted her to come, he wouldn’t let her stop.

“Fuck!” Mr. Gold snarled as he jammed his fingers into her again and again. “Is there any fucking end to you? Are you ever satisfied, you whore? Am I going to have to pull men off the streets just to keep you happy?”

“No!” she shrieked. “No, Mr. Gold! Please, Mr. Gold! I only want you, Mr. Gold!”

Her body proved her words with an intense orgasm. She clenched around his hand, sucked him into her. A heavy rush of wetness pulsed out.

Mr. Gold sneered. “And you squirt, too. Of course. The perfect fucktoy does everything.” His hand jabbed at her as he spoke, every motion bringing with it a new crest of pleasure. “You take anal on the first try. You orgasm from anal sex. You’re a sopping mess before you’re even touched, and you come like a multiorgasmic machine.” 

His free hand grabbed her by her hair and pulled her up. Miss French had to blink a few times before she could focus on his face. He looked furious.

“What else do you do?” His other hand gripped her jaw. His fingers were hot, damp from her juices. “What other tricks can the pretty little sex doll perform? Do you come from having your nipples played with? Or vaginally? Do you come from pain?” His hand slid down from her jaw to her neck. “Do you deep throat on the first try? Do you get off on swallowing?”

All Miss French could do was shake her head, very slowly. “I don’t know, Mr. Gold. I’m--I’m not a virgin, but I promise I’ve never done any of that.”

He let his hands drop. He stared at her like he didn’t believe what he was looking at. Didn’t he think she was telling the truth? Or didn’t he think she was real?

“We’ll see about that,” he said, quietly but not softly. “Can you walk?”

Miss French slid herself off the table. Her legs were wobbly, but she could stand.

“Yes, Mr. Gold.”

“Good.” He jerked his head toward a door. “Because we’re going to the study.” 

[sergeantrosabellaswan]

The Selection, MCU Crossover Royalty AU

SUMMARY: Fifteen girls. Two princes. One crown. The competition of a lifetime.

CHAPTER THREE

THE WRONGLY SELECTED

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 1290

My night was spent tossing and turning in restless sleep. Pietro kept his arm wrapped around me the entire night, offering me much needed warmth and comfort; I kept kissing his sleeping face as I tried not to cry at the idea of us being separated, even for such a short time.

Daybreak came too quickly for me as I carefully unwrapped Pietro’s arms from around me, replacing my body with my pillow. I smiled down at him as I quickly dressed and left the hut, taking up my bow and quiver of arrows to go check on the watch.

“Morning,” I greeted the sentry, one of the king’s bodyguards who had manfully volunteered to keep the night watch without a second thought.

“Good morning, Lady Rosabella,” he greeted me, trying to stay awake. “How did you sleep last night?”

“I was restless for most of the night; what little sleep I got was in short bursts,” I honestly answered him, my eyes keeping a lookout on the tree line for any suspicious movement. To my relief, the only movement came from the chilly morning breeze. “Breakfast will be served shortly, if you’re hungry.” I patted his shoulder before moving off towards the barn to milk the brown and white village cow.

“Good morning,” I greeted the older man who kept an eye on the cramped barn. He nodded a silent greeting to me, his nose buried in the tattered book that he’d read hundreds, if not thousands of times before. I took up the bucket that was on a hook next to where the cow was tied up and got to work. Much to my joy, there was near a full bucketful of creamy white milk; I knew for a fact that the widowed mother with two young ones would be happy at the extra food for her twin boys.

I lugged the bucket to the kitchen, where the two cooks were already busy at work making the morning meal for everyone. I silently handed over the bucket before standing off to the side to watch them work. One was frying up meat in a pan while the other skimmed the milk, making it drinkable before pouring into milk jugs to be distributed out to the villagers.

“We have more milk than usual,” the cook who had skimmed the milk stated in a flat voice, looking for something to pour the excess milk into.

“Do we have any coffee?” I asked, getting a nod from the other cook. “Let’s keep it for the visitors to put into their coffee then.”

“Good idea, good idea,” muttered the cook, locating a pitcher and pouring the rest of the milk in. I nodded as I began to place the bottles of milk into a crudely constructed wood crate to be dropped off at front doors. I carefully placed the carriers into the wagon that was kept in the kitchen for deliveries and nodding to them.

“I’ll be back,” I said before wheeling the squeaky wagon out of the kitchen.

“Good morning,” greeted the brunet man from the day before, emerging from an otherwise empty hut. I grunted out a reply before he joined me, silently walking with his hands jammed into his pockets. He watched as I knocked on doors, handing out milk with small smiles and little words here and there.

“You care for everyone here, don’t you?” he asked me softly, as though he didn’t want to disturb the silence. I shrugged in response, not really wanting to talk at the early break of dawn. He seemed to guess that I wasn’t a morning talker, and thankfully, he left me alone.

As I cooed over a five month old little boy that one of the women was holding, I saw the prince smiling at me. I shot him an intimidating glare as I straightened up, beginning to wheel the now empty loud wagon back towards the kitchen.

“Why was it me that was Selected?” I suddenly asked, nodding at one of the cooks, who was on his way back inside the kitchen with a basket full of eggs from the tiny henhouse that had a grand population of four scraggly chickens.

The prince shrugged, and I mentally slapped myself.

“Let me rephrase; how was I Selected?” I asked, nodding a good morning to a couple of early stragglers.

“It was a random drawing,” he answered me. “Names were put into a bowl, and Steve and I each Selected seven names- dad choose the fifteenth name, which was you.”

I snorted; of course it would’ve been the king who picked my name.

“I’m James, by the way,” he introduced himself with a short bow of respect to me.

“Charmed,” I said, giving him a tight smile.

Just then, the rooster began to shriek loudly, sending out the wakeup call for the rest of the village to get out of bed and report to the mess hall for breakfast. Within minutes, the fifty-­ something villagers were up and lined up in a neat row for the morning meal. The king, the blond prince, and their entire entourage were at the back of the line while I joined the rest of the Queen’s Bandits near the front of the line.

“Morning!” Pietro’s twin sister, Wanda greeted me, ever the chipper one in the mornings. I grunted out a response to her as the line moved up. I tapped mom’s locket from luck for the day as the food was distributed amongst us all.

By the time we had our food and coffee, i was halfway awake as opposed to before and in a much better mood. We all stood around as we chatted in between bites of egg and meat burritos, the crude tortillas making my throat itch and burn like something crazy.

“Here they come now,” Sam muttered softly to me, his cheeks huge with food. I didn’t have to turn around to see that he was talking about the king and the two princes, but I did, mainly to see their reaction to my village’s meager breakfast.

The king had an impressive poker face on, but the princes looked shocked at the crude breakfast that the people of Wakanda ate every day.

“We make use of what all we have,” I called out to them, not even bothering to join them. “Trust me- it’s better than nothing.”

The looks on the princes’ faces didn’t change as they took in what I had just told them as I turned back to breakfast with my Queen’s Bandits.

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[1d1195]

Hiiiiii I have read few ask about me and here people are so kind and to 💜 anon whoever it was about it doesn't matter just like you said so happy that we all love to talk and we will be doing it!!

Alfredo sauce is my fav too like with some vegetables so it can be healthy or sometimes no veggies but I love itttt!! And pesto-risotto?? How was it I never tried before??

I'm vegetarian since I was born lol so like it's a practice I think?? And I love fruits some of my favs are Mango, watermelon, blueberries and moreeeee like I could eat in any day!!( I swear i can eat one cube of watermelon and I bloat like a hot air balloon, it's stupid. A single slice of an apple and I want to throw up) after eating bloat like hot air balloon I'm laughing like the word choice is amazing but you can't eat any fruits?? You don't like them or is just you can't stomach them??

Veg Lasagna are so good too and my friends says the meat lasagna are way better than the veg one but I think veg one taste pretty amazing!! Ohh eggplant parm and garlic bread this sounds so good like I have eaten outside but never made it so if you wanna share the recipe of it please do!!

That day I didn't baked anything but tomorrow for sure I'm gonna bake chocolate or vanilla cupcakes ding was vanilla cupcake girly right??

Yes Italian dressing on salads taste so yum I make everytime I crave but I made Caesar dressing few time it doesn't taste that good as compare to restaurants one!!

French onion soup is so soothingly good like with some warm buttery bread ahh heaven!! Really if my mum is making all these food taste 10 times better!!💞

How are you?? How was dinner??

-🪴

I love chatting with you all. You're all SO lovely! 💕 I hope you guys never feel like you can't chat!

My bf will make plane alfredo sauce with pasta which is obvs delicious but I LOVE to add broccoli and spinach. Or really any veggies. Alfredo is 😍 The pesto risotto was SO good. There was asparagus in it too and I LOVE asparagus!

Oh no, I CAN eat fruit. It's just annoying because like one grape and I go up three dress sizes lol. I love fruit. Grapes, apples, WATERMELON is my FAVORITE. I also love love love strawberries and blueberries too. Pretty much all berries (raspberries are so underrated to me.) But I'm more of a veggie girl I think!

I love veggie lasagna! Meat lasagna is good too but I love a good veggie lasagna.

Eggplant parm you slice into disks! You can decide the thickness. You dip them in flour, eggs, and breadcrumbs I usually add my favorite seasonings too (garlic powder, onion powder, italian seasoning, etc). Fry them in a pan in your favorite kind of oil (I use canola, olive, or vegetable oil depending on what we bought that week lol) until they're golden brown. Then you start to layer it in a pan eggplant, tomato sauce, mozzarella & parmesan cheese. (I usually do a 8 in x 8 in pan but again your favorite one is fine!) If you make your own sauce then by all means use that but any red sauce you like will suffice! Then you bake it in the oven for a like 30 mins? Mostly so the cheese melts and everything gets gooey, crispy, yummy. I like to have it with pasta as well but it's good on it's own too. ALMOST like a lasagna with eggplant instead of pasta.

Garlic bread is like SUPER easy. I like to use french bread! You cut the bread open and lay it flat on a baking sheet. Oven at 425F. 1/2 cup of butter softened, salt, the recipe I've always used calls for 4 cloves of finely minced garlic but I never measure garlic, I put as much as I feel like. Same thing with salt. It says like 1/4 of a teaspoon but it depends if you use salted butter etc. etc. 1 tablespoon of parsley. You mix the butter, garlic, salt, parsley together and then spread it on the bread and bake in the oven for like 10-15 mins but I just usually watch it until it's ready (golden brown!)

I feel like both of my recipes are like "just throw it together as you see fit" it's very word of mouth recipes in my family and you just watch someone make it a couple times then just do it yourself. But if you try it, I hope you like it! 💕

Idk if I gave Miss Cupcake a favorite cupcake! I know Ding Harry liked her lemon raspberry ones 🤭 My favorite cupcake is vanilla with chocolate frosting because I'm BORING AF. But I don't care.

I LOVE my mom's cooking. Tbh idk if she's actually any good. I just love it so much.

I'm doing well! Dinner was good! I forget what I ate tbh but it was yummy. Any fun plans for the weekend?

xoxo

[ryu-skies]

history

C asks Ren about his dating history. (1.5k)

“So you basically know everyone I’ve dated since we broke up…” C starts, admiring the way Ren’s back muscles flex as he cooks, dutifully stirring vegetables in a pan. “I mean, it was only one total asshole but… I was wondering about who you dated. I think you said there were multiple.”

“About that…” Ren says and lowers the heat, setting the lid on top of the pan. He turns to C with a guilty smile. “I was only in one relationship, but we lasted less than a month.”

C laughs, resting his chin in his hands. “Less than a month?! We were broken up for almost two and a half years and you only dated one person for less than a month? Oh my god, was it Dae?”

“No way.” Ren slices open a pack of beef and sets it on the cutting board, cutting the meat into thin slices. “Why would your mind immediately go to him? You know the chances of that happening have always been less than zero.”

“I’m just saying! Maybe you guys wanted to try it out and it failed.” Ren snorts at C’s suggestion, continuing his work. “Did you at least sleep with anyone in those two years? Have any hookups?”

“Mm, no. Just the girl I dated and…” Ren pauses, shooting C a look. “And Dae one night when we were really drunk and high.”

C gasps and covers his mouth dramatically, making a show of it. “Oh my god… I don’t know if I’m more shocked by you dating a girl or sleeping with Dae. While high! I didn’t know you smoked.”

He wants to say I knew it, but knows better than to tease Ren further about his relationship with Dae.

“It was a one time thing, okay. A night of very questionable decisions.” Ren makes another cut, setting the meat in a bowl. “Why are you shocked about me dating a girl?” He’s a bit perplexed by C’s reaction.

“Are you not… I thought you were gay. You are, right?” C blinks at him.

“Uh, I’m bisexual.” Ren stares back at C, equally as confused. “Did I not tell you this?”

“Oh… Oh my god, it all makes sense.” C’s cheeks burn in embarrassment as he runs his hands down his face. “I just assumed when you said you’ve slept with girls that it was an experimental thing. I didn’t know—I’m so sorry. I’m so embarrassed.”

“C, it’s okay,” Ren laughs. “I mean, I assumed you knew already without me telling you. But yes, I dated a girl and she dumped me because I was too hung up on you. And clearly she was right, because I didn’t date anyone else for two years and now I’m here, back with you where I belong.”

“That’s… That’s true… I guess I’m glad it didn’t work out.”

Ren hums, adding a few sauces and seasoning to the bowl and mixing the meat in. “Mhm. Fun fact, by the way, dating her was the first time I ever faked an orgasm.”

“Pfft—” C chokes and covers his mouth, unable to contain his shock once again. “Ren, what? You faked an orgasm? That poor girl…”

“It was no fault to her.” Ren removes the lid on the pan and adds the meat in, starting to stir fry again. “I just couldn’t get into it. Every time she tried to give me a blowjob or initiate sex I made up an excuse to get out of it. It was not my finest moment.” He glances over his shoulder, smiling in amusement at C.

“Oh my god, no wonder you only lasted less than a month. I would go insane if I was dating someone and handsome as you and never got to fuck.”

Ren laughs. “Look, I made sure she was satisfied. I just had no desire to have sex again when I couldn’t finish the first time.”

C whistles, resting his chin on his hand. “Sheesh… I almost feel bad for her. What was she like?”

“Her name was Riley. We had a few classes together after you graduated and she was the one to ask me out. She was sweet, a super nice girl—I just wasn’t present in the relationship.”

“Was she pretty?”

“Not as pretty as you,” Ren answers without hesitation, looking back to smile at C. “Can you plate the rice for us? I’m almost done here.”

C giggles to himself, too pleased with Ren’s answer. “Yes, babe.” He gets up and grabs two dishes from the cabinet, setting them down next to the rice cooker. “So how did she dump you?”

“You really want to know?” Ren gives C a look, turning off the heat on the stove. He waits for C to pass him a plate and scoops the meat and vegetable mixture, keeping it presentable. “Dae actually talked me into breaking up with her first, but she beat me to it. We met at a coffee shop but we didn’t even make it inside—she said I was a nice guy but I really needed to get over my ex before dating and that was that.”

“Oh wow… Were you sad?” C hands Ren the second plate and watches his boyfriend finish preparing their meal, sprinkling sesame seeds and green onions as garnish.

“Nah, she was totally right.” Ren picks the plates up and carries them over to the table. “And then I went home and kissed Dae.”

“WHAT?” C’s jaw drops and Ren laughs loudly, taking his apron off. He sets it on the counter and turns to C with a grin.

“What?”

“You!!” C stomps over to Ren, arms wrapping around his waist tightly. He pulls Ren against him, his boyfriend still grinning innocently. “You said nothing happened between you two except that one time! I feel like there’s a lot of tea between you both you’re conveniently leaving out here!”

Ren knows C isn’t upset, instead he’s the opposite—eyes glowing in interest and curiosity, the edges of his lips twitching up in a smile. C squeezes him tighter, trapping him.

“Tell me everything if you want to eat your gorgeous creation before it gets cold! I want to know every sexual encounter with Dae that happened in my absence!”

“You’re so weird, baby.” Ren laughs, pecking C’s lips. “I’m only saying this once so you better listen.”

“I’m listening!”

“We had sex a few weeks after you broke up with me, but that was kind of an awful attempt at coping so it doesn’t really count.”

C nods, paying attention. “Go on…”

“And then we had sex again when we were both drunk and high as fuck—also a very poorly thought through decision.”

“Uh huh, and?”

“And then we made out a little after Riley dumped me because Dae said I should just use him for sex instead of some girl I’m not interested in dating.”

“Oh my god, were you fuckbuddies?!” C’s mouth hangs open in awe and Ren’s cheeks redden as he shakes his head vehemently.

“No. That kiss was me trying it out and it was too weird because clearly I was still hung up on someone.” Ren pokes C’s forehead. “You, in case you couldn’t figure that out.”

C smiles widely, pleased. “I figured that part out.”

“Well that was my detailed sexual history with Dae, are you happy now? Are we allowed to eat?” Ren motions to the table with his head, their pretty plates of food waiting.

“Yes! Yes we can.” C kisses Ren on his lips and Ren reciprocates, hands sliding around to cop a feel of C’s ass before they separate. “I’d let you know my full sexual history while we were apart in exchange but I think you’d hate it considering who it was with.”

Ren scoffs, sitting down at the table. “Yeah, please spare me.”

C hums, taking a bite of his food. He makes a happy noise, Ren’s cooking always being so delicious every time. “I can tell you about the times I jerked off to you if you want, though.”

Ren almost chokes on his food, managing to swallow after a slight struggle. “H-Huh? Like in college?”

“No, like when we were friends. Before we got back together.” C shrugs, continuing to eat unbothered. Ren only stares at him, cheeks pink.

“You… You really did?”

C finally sets his fork down, eyebrow raised in confusion. “Um, yeah? A couple of times in the month leading up to your confession. I assume you did too?”

“Yeah, but I had no idea you felt the same way until that day. This is really… wow. I’m so in love with you.”

“I thought I was doing a terrible job at hiding my attraction to you, Ren. But then again I also had no idea you had feelings for me until you confessed, so maybe we’re both dumb,” C laughs happily. “At least we figured it out somehow. Now eat your food before it gets cold, it’s sooo delicious.”

“Yeah,” Ren smiles, finally lifting his fork again to eat. “But please do tell me about how you got off to me afterwards. In full detail.”

[btsqualityy]

Sorry about requesting too much joonie drabbles this is the last one I promise

Mama knj spending time cooking with her mother in law and learning how to make joon's favorite dishes

"So, you're going to want to do is presoak your noodles," Namjoon's mother told you, waiting until you nodded dutifully before continuing. "Then you boil them for about 8 minutes."

"Do you rinse them with cold water?" You wondered.

"Yep," she nodded. "Then you'll marinate them in the sauce before pan frying them."

"And the meat?" You asked, watching as she flipped over the meat on the stove. "What kind does he prefer?"

"Typically beef, but you can use any meat and he probably wouldn't complain," his mother chuckled. "He loves meat, that boy."

"Tell me about it," you giggled. "He eats so much of it when we go out."

"Well, once that's done, the only thing left is finding the right balance of sugar and soy sauce," she said. "Namjoon prefers slightly more sugar than soy sauce so I've found that a dash of soy sauce and a sprinkle of sugar is good."

"Sounds easy enough," you shrugged.

"It is," she chuckled. "Japchae is one of his favorites so honestly, he'll eat it even if you mess it up."

"Nice to know," you replied.

"You know, I appreciate that you came to me for this Y/N," she said. "No girl Namjoon has ever dated has ever shown this much interest in him and what he likes or dislikes. It means a lot."

"Well, I love him," you shrugged sheepishly. "He makes me so happy, I figured that this is the least I could do for him."

"He loves you too, I know it," she assured you. "Trust me."

[the-original-skipps]

Dear Future.

Mikey x Reader ft. Draken, Emma, Takemichy, Mitsuya, Pah-chin

Requested by @klaudia077

Word count: 1.7k

Note: Everyone in this fic is an adult. Since 12 years have passed. Plus I had to reread that chapter, Iー

Warning ⚠️ Contains heavy spoilers from the manga. Plus spelling and grammar errors.

The chime rings as you press your finger against the doorbell. You stand with Mikey hands full of groceries, you glance to your right and see Mikey standing beside you. When your eyes catch his, he gives you a small smile. You can tell he was excited.

The front door opens to reveal Emma, who was dressed casually. "Mikey!" She exclaims as he pulls the raven haired man into a hug, he smiles while returning the embrace. She pulls away from her brother and envelops you into a hug, "I'm so glad you came (Y/N)-chan...!" "Of course, it's great to see you again Emma, we brought some stuff!" You reply with a giggle slowly pulling away from her. "Come in come in!" She ushers both you and Mikey inside, before leading you to the living room.

"Yo Mikey (Y/N)."

As three of you entered the living room, you were greeted with a sight that instantly made your heart soften. There sitting on the sofa was Draken and in his arms was his beautiful daughter, Mirai. She was a small precious thing so small compared to her father's figure. Emma approaches Draken before pressing a kiss to his forehead, before cooing at her daughter. You and Mikey stand by stand enchanted by the family before you. "Wanna hold her, Mikey?" Draken's question breaks Mikey out of his trance as he blinks owlishly. "I don't know how to hold a baby, Kenchin..." Mikey replies with a bit of hesitancy in his voice.

"Go on, Uncle Mikey..." You assure Mikey with a smile encouraging him to hold his niece, as you take the plastic bags from his hands-walking to place them on the dining table. Mikey glaces at you one last time before stepping forward, you could tell he was nervous. Draken grins before gently placing the new born child into Mikey's stiff arms. "Isn't she adorable?" Draken exclaims excitedly before standing beside Mikey while Emma peers over his shoulder with a smile. "Yeah...am I holding her right?" Mikey nervously asks but was quickly assured by her parents. You could feel your heart warming and tears forming in your eyes at the sight of the four of them. How as a teenager, Mikey told you how dreamed of this day and it was finally happening. Him, Emma, Draken and their daughter together as a family. You couldn't be anymore more happy for them.

"Want to hold her too (Y/N)-chan?"

You quickly wipe away your tears as their eyes turn towards you, you nod as Emma takes her daughter from Mikey's arms before placing her within yours. You smile as you peer down at the bundle of warmth within your arms who peers up at you with curiosity. "She has your eyes, Emma-chan..." you say as you turn to look at the blonde woman, who gleams at your words. "What no, she looks more like me!" Draken intervenes as he watches his wife bleam at you with happiness.

"Nah, I definitely think she looks more like Emma. Sorry Kenchin, but you're kinda ugly."

"Mikey, why you!"

Immediately the two males start to bicker back and forth, while you and Emma coo over her daughter. Before they could start throwing the furniture around, Emma immediately glares at them and hits them both over their heads. You could watch as you sweatdrop at the scene of Emma scolding her husband and her older brother.

.

.

.

It wasn't long until Mitsuya, Takemichy and Pah-chin arrived as well. In their hands holding plastic bags full of sake and beer. You and Emma with Mirai in her arms both watch from the side as the five men reunited and greeted each other. "Oi Takemichy, why didn't you bring Hina-chan?" Draken questions before ruffling his hair.

"S-She said she has an important meeting today, but she really wanted to come!"

"Well, it looks like it'll be just the two of us girls (Y/N)-chan" Emma says with a sigh. You give her an apologetic smile, as her husband and your boyfriend seemed to completely forget about you both. "Why don't we prepare dinner?" You ask her to taking your eyes off the men before turning to meet hers. "Sure! Let me just put Mirai to sleep." She smiles before leading you to the kitchen.

.

.

.

While the males were gathered around a kotatsu talking amongst themselves. You and Emma were busy in the kitchen preparing ingredients for a hotpot meant for seven people. After a while Mitsuya pops up, "need some help?" "That would be great." You reply as you were busy cutting the vegetables. Mitsuya quickly observes the kitchen, before gathering the necessary utensils for a hot pot. Once you and Emma were done preparing. Mitsuya slowly brings out all of the ingredients you prepared to the kotatsu table. Everyone sat around the kotatsu, you taking a seat beside Mikey while Emma sits beside Draken.

"Let's eat!"

The table was filled with laughter and talk as all of you converse with one another. "This is delicious!" Pah-chin explains as he takes another biteful of meat with his chopsticks. "Careful, Pah don't eat too much or else you won't fit into your tux." Mitsuya warns him as Pah takes big mouthfuls from his bowl. "I don't think he's listening..." Takemichy speaks as he too observes Pah-chin.

You smile as you place a piece of sliced meat into Mikey's bowl, he immediately bleams at you while he places a mushroom into your own bowl. "I gave you meat and you give me a mushroom, that's not a fair trade." You say as you raise your eyebrow at Mikey. "Come on, Mikey eat your vegetables!" Emma scolds her brother from across the table. "I'll eat whatever I want!" Mikey instantly replies back as he eats another piece of sliced meat with a pout on his face. You cover your mouth as laughter erupts around the table. Even as an adult Mikey still has troubles eating his vegetables.

.

.

.

"Cheers!" You all shout before taking a drink from your can of beer. Once dinner was finished and put away, Draken and Mikey were quick to usher everyone to drink. You smile as you and Emma take a sip from your cans while the rest of the men try to finish their can of beer in one go. Draken was first to finish his drink, slamming his can down on the table with a yell the rest follow while Takemichy ends up being last. "Another round!" Pah-chin yells out, grabbing another can of beer. The rest of the men follow as they get engrossed into their game of who can drink the most. As the men crowd around one side of the kotatsu, you and Emma ended up sitting together on the other side.

"Men..." Emma says with a roll of her eyes as she takes another sip of her beer. You giggle agreeing to her statement. Your eyes cast over the group of ex-delinquents, as they talk excitedly about the past. Your eyes linger towards Mikey who laughs at what Mitsuya says. You couldn't help but smile as you see the light in your boyfriend's eyes. You've all come a long way, many things happened but here you all were together twelve years later.

While you and Emma talk amongst yourselves, you both notice the men getting louder by the minute, especially Mikey who was practically yelling at this point. You also noticed that Pah-chin was completely passed out under the kotatsu, snores leaving his lips. There were cans of beer littering the table and floor. The room was a complete mess so to say. As Mikey excitedly tells the story of Takemichy who got poop stuck in his hair, a sound of a baby crying interrupts him.

Oh no.

Emma immediately stands up with an empty can of beer in hand. All eyes land on her as she throws it hitting Mikey on his head and a dead silence follows. Mikey winces as he rubs the spot where the can hit.

"What was that for?!"

"You woke the baby up!"

"I did not, everyone else was being loud too!"

"Hey, don't try to pin the blame on us Mikey.." Draken says with a grin on his face.

"Who thinks it's Mikey's fault? Raise your hands!" Draken yells out as Mitsuya and Emma immediately raise their hands, while Takemichy and you reluctantly raise yours. Mouthing a quick "I'm sorry" to your boyfriend as Emma leaves the room. "Hey, you guys can't do that, I'm the leader of Toman!" Mikey points accusingly at the men in the room. "Ex-leader!" Draken exclaims with a chuckle. Then Emma appears with a frying pan in her hands as she picks up another empty can of beer. Before, with all her might hurling it towards Mikey, who managed to dodge it due to his fast reflexes. Mikey immediately stands up as he dodges another can being flung at him.

"Help me (Y/N)!"

"Sorry Mikey but you're on your own." You managed to say in between your laughter as Draken and Mitsuya laughs along with you. "Oh it's gonna start again!" Mitsuya says with a grin as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. Realizing you won't help him, Mikey turns to his Draken for help.

"Don't just sit there and laugh Kenchin!" Mikey yells out as he dodges another empty can of beer being flung at him. Only for it to hit Takemichy square in the head, looks like Takemichy might be the next to pass out. "Don't run away Mikey!" Emma yells as you, Draken and Mitsuya all laugh as eventually Emma chases Mikey around the living room with her frying pan, yells echoing throughout the house. Despite all the noise, Pah-chin remains sound asleep.

Even as twelve years passed some things never change. As Mikey runs around the living room trying to dodge empty beer cans and Emma's fury. Laughter momentarily escapes his lips while Emma huffs. He could hear the rest laughing as well, especially your sweet laughter. Mikey smiles running while Emma follows close behind, raising her fry pan in the air. This moment, this life, this future he wouldn't trade it for the world.

So this is happiness.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Cult Girl (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 1

This is my first time publishing any of my reader insert work so don’t be too hard on me. Y/N is a psych student that needs a favor and asks her therapist for help. Lmk if you want to see more.

It was an unmistakable conflict of interest, your relationship with Hannibal. He was your therapist, your mentor, your partner, and many years your senior to boot. You recognized this monumental power imbalance. You put on a façade of embarrassment for the people who expected it; people whose proclivities were done in the shadows and therefore easier to get away with. Why should you be expected to rationalize your loving, mutually beneficial relationship to a person who regularly cheats on her boyfriend?

You'd dated men your own age before, and without fail, you always found yourself waiting for them to grow up. Hannibal made you feel comfortable. Both emotionally and physically. You had a side of his bed and a spot in his arms to fall asleep in every night. Given the choice, you could truthfully say you'd never want to leave his arms.

Like many unlikely relationships, it didn’t start out in the most romantic of ways. Clutching your laptop under your raincoat, you hesitated knocking. Your therapist had, of course, seen you at your lowest points and was sworn to secrecy, but this was a low you didn’t want even him to see. Standing outside of his home, in the so-incredibly-not-business-hours dead of night with mascara running down your face. 

You finally worked up the nerve to knock, telling yourself that he was probably asleep and wouldn’t hear you. This rationalization fell apart when the interior light turned on and the door unlocked. Although you’d been seeing Dr. Lecter for quite a while, his presence never failed to intimidate you. Now it was even worse. His severe expression was fixated on you as he silently awaited an explanation. 

“Dr. Lecter...” You lowered your head and fumbled with your computer. You made a point to kiss your last shreds of dignity goodbye before you opened your mouth again. “...could I please borrow a book?” 

Dr. Lecter narrowed his eyes. “I take it by the hour, this is an urgent matter, Miss [L/N]?”

“My midterm. It’s due in...” You glanced at your watch. “Eight hours.” 

“Well you don’t have a moment to waste, now do you?” Dr. Lecter said, a slight upturn in his voice connoting amusement. “Come in. Let’s find you that book.” 

You felt your muscles relax as he stepped aside to let you in. The house was spacious. Much too large for one person. That was really the only thing you could bring yourself to notice before he shut the door behind you. 

“Now what is this all-important book of yours called?” He asked, pulling your raincoat from your shoulders like he always did. 

“It’s called Thought Reform and the Psychology of Totalism.” You explained, tucking your computer under your arm. “By Robert Jay Lifton.” 

“You’re in luck, Miss [L/N].” His thin lips turned up into a smile. “I have a copy from my own years as a student.”

You breathed an audible sigh of relief. You tensed your muscles and held in your excitement at the prospect of something finally going according to plan, even if that plan was your third or fourth backup.

You followed him into his office, which reminded you more of Belle’s library than any workspace you’d ever encountered. He must have had thousands of books in this room alone.

“It’s a fascinating read, but not one you could finish in eight hours.” Dr. Lecter's voice echoed from somewhere in the office, getting lost in the books. “Even for the most ravenous of psychology students, of which I know you to be.” 

"Hardly." You muttered under your breath. "If that were the case, I wouldn't be begging for help at 2am before the final paper is due."

"Procrastination is only human, my dear." He assured you, his voice drawing closer. "It's common in those with deep-rooted insecurities about their competency."

"Now that sounds more like me." You joked, leaning back on your heels. "Should you really be trying to validate my bad habits? I feel like that's counterproductive."

"Scolding you would be more counterproductive." He corrected. "You've been scolded many times before and you continue your bad habits. Only when we get to the root of your behavior can you begin to reverse it."

He emerged from the bookshelves and handed you a beat-up copy of Thought Reform and the Psychology of Totalism, which you graciously accepted. 

“Thank you so much, Dr. Lecter.” You said, placing your hand over your heart. "I owe you my life."

"I'd hardly equate your life to a used book, Miss [L/N]." Dr. Lecter said. "I feel like, as your therapist, we should talk about why you do."

You looked away, smiling sheepishly. "Maybe sometime in daylight. I've taken up enough of your time as it is. I'll get out of your hair now."

"It would take you more time to get back to your dorm that you could use writing." He said, matter-of-factually. "Write your paper in my office."

You looked at him in disbelief. Your judgment was clouded with energy drinks and desperation. So your usual self-sacrificing polite denial was steamrolled by a very enthusiastic acceptance. "I would be forever indebted to you, Dr. Lecter."

"Miss [L/N]," Dr. Lecter cut in. "You're a student, you need to study."

You didn’t really remember a lot of what happened after you wrapped your arms around his waist, too overwhelmed with gratitude to think if an embrace was even appropriate. It was the middle of the night, so you had an excuse if he shoved you off him. But surprisingly, he didn’t. 

You broke the embrace and gathered up your book and computer. “Seriously, I owe you big time for this. You’re really saving my life here.” 

“Go write your paper, [F/N].” He ordered. “We can discuss why you conflate your academics and your life during our next appointment. For now, make yourself at home.”

And that you did. Dr. Lecter retired back to bed and you spent a solid four hours typing away. An antique grandfather clock kept count for you. When you couldn’t keep your eyes open any longer, you sent the paper off to your professor, editing be damned. You let sleep compel you, comforted by the fact that you didn't have to think about your paper for at least another week before the grading period was over. 

Dr. Lecter’s desk was the most comfortable surface in the world to you that night, because you slept for six hours with only your arms as a pillow. It was the first rest your body had gotten in quite some time. You were gently coaxed awake by the smell of something delicious. 

You followed the smell into a kitchen that could rival those of Michelin-starred restaurants. Dr. Lecter was hard at work, cooking something that enticed your nose. He cracked an egg and looked up at you. “Good morning, Miss [L/N].”

“I’m sorry.” You said, shaking your head shamefully. 

“For?” He asked, fixing his attention back on his recipe.

“Falling asleep.” You dropped your shoulders.

“I told you to make yourself at home, did I not?” He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. This time, he sounded like he was actually going to scold you. “Tell me, do you sleep at your desk at home?” 

“I try not to.” You answer with a shrug. 

“But when you feel yourself falling asleep, you usually put yourself to bed, right?” He continued.

You started to feel a bit stupid. “...yeah.” 

He poked at some sausage links in a frying pan, letting out a sizzle. “You could have taken the couch.”

“I guess I was just too sleepy to think of that.” You explained, preparing to be psychoanalyzed no matter what you said.

“No, you were just too polite to push the imagined boundaries of my invitation.” He concluded, busying his hands with plating whatever it was he was making. His tone was comfortingly familiar. “Miss [L/N], don’t sacrifice your comfort for what you think I perceive to be rude. If I found you rude, you’d know it.”

"I'm sorry." You repeated.

"Don't apologize." He said, reaching for the pepper mill. "I know your anxiety disorder makes you feel like you are a burden. I assure you, you are not. I want you to know for next time that the couch is open. Or you could take the guest bedroom."

You stopped yourself before you could apologize again. You momentarily pondered what he had to say before uttering a quiet but convicted "Thank you."

"You're very welcome." Dr. Lecter slid a plate across the table in your direction. "Eat, my dear."

You didn't need to be told twice. You usually didn’t care for sausage, but reconsidered when you took a bite. The meat was so flavorful and rich, a little noise of delight escaped your lips.

Dr. Lecter smiled, your little moan sending his ego through the roof. “You like it?” 

“It’s delicious.” You put your fork down, your face flush with embarrassment. “Way better than the food at the dining hall.” 

“Miss [L/N],” Dr. Lecter began, putting an extra sausage link on your plate. “If you find yourself in need of psychology texts, I’d be happy to extend my invitation indefinitely.” 

You nearly choked on your eggs. “On god?” 

“Given that you arrive sometime before midnight and perhaps call ahead, yes.” He answered. “Your studies are your life and breath, after all. You would find yourself very accommodated to here.”

This time, you'd really take him up on his offer.

[forlove2020]

Suptober Day 4 - Secrets

Dean is bed-warm and bleary-eyed, but it's not too much of a problem because cooking seems to be one of those things that comes to him naturally, like breathing or reloading his gun. He can do all of these with his eyes closed, which, in this case is pretty handy as his eyes are mostly closed this morning.

He's still barely awake as he beats the buttermilk into the eggs, adding flour, baking powder, sugar, oil, salt. The first of two frying pans gets hot fast, and Dean places the bacon down, enjoying the crackling sound of meat becoming crispy. 

His life depends on remembering to turn on the coffee pot, and he is sure to double check and see if it has begun brewing before he moves on to ladling the batter into the pan.

This is the time of day Dean likes best: the slow, quiet mornings in the dim sunlight of his own kitchen where he can finally just breathe. The years of misery and grief had worn him down, but as the saying goes, coal makes diamonds, and since there was so much damn coal in his life before, he is now one fine diamond.

Or, anyhow, something along those lines. Dean's too tired for frickin' metaphors right now, okay?

The clatter of dog paws on wooden flooring makes Dean smile. Miracle has awoken and joined him in the kitchen; she is eyeing Dean expectantly, sniffing at the bacon-scented air with hopefulness.

"Hey there, girl," Dean murmurs quietly, so as not to wake the other occupants of the household. She wags as she greets him and he pats her head fondly.  Never once, in all of the years preceding had Dean ever considered adopting a dog but now he knows that Miracle, in his unbiased opinion, is definitely a cut above the rest of those flea-bitten mongrels.

Fine, so maybe he is a little biased but Dean still believes he has the best dog in the world.

Miracle lies on the floor at his feet as he finishes cooking breakfast, she sleepily watches him flip pancakes but her cute little ears perk with interest as he places a couple slices of bacon on each of the three glass plates. 

Dean darts a quick look down the hallway that leads toward the staircase, then glances at the backdoor to make sure it is still locked. He can't hear anyone stirring upstairs, so he raises his eyebrow at Miracle, who leaps to her feet with all the stealthy grace of an apex predator. She is ready and waiting for what has become their morning ritual.

Dean tosses her a piece of crisp bacon, and Miracle snaps it up mid-air, her body wriggling with glee as she wolfs it down.

"Remember, this is our secret, ma'am," he murmurs, giving her a gentle scritch behind the ears. Her tail thu-thumps on the floor, and Dean grins. 

Light footsteps fall on the creaking stairs, and Dean sticks his hands behind his back like a naughty child caught misbehaving.

Jack is wearing one of Sam's old t-shirts and it's so comically big on him that it seems almost more of a nightgown. He's rubbing his eyes as he stumbles into the kitchen, but his smile is as bright as ever as he goes immediately to hug Dean.

There are many good things in this world that Dean doesn't believe he deserves, and Jack's forgiveness and love is pretty much the top of that list. But Dean's really making an effort to treat him better now and god, if the kid doesn't deserve every last good thing in this world. Jack had offered Dean a fresh start when he came back from Heaven; it was a second chance to make things right between them and Dean had taken the offer with no hesitation. He would rather throw himself into the Pit headfirst than hurt Jack again. Dean knows he can't erase the past but he sure as Hell can do whatever it takes to make things up to his kid.

He presses a kiss to the top of Jack's head; he smells like sleepy sweat and that expensive lemony shampoo Sam had sent him for his fourth birthday. "Sleep okay?"

Jack nods, and yawns. "No nightmares last night, so that was nice." He breaks their hug to pet Miracle, who fawns over him.

"Good," Dean says firmly. "Maybe that spell Sammy used actually can help." Jack nods, but doesn't answer, still attempting to wake up. He reaches for the coffee pot.

"Hey," Dean scolds gently, and Jack pauses, confused. "Wait until I pour your Dad a mug first."

A wry smile comes to Jack's face. They've both seen what happens on mornings where Cas doesn't get hot coffee and Dean and Jack have a silent agreement to avoid the circumstances causing those events at all costs.

"Help yourself to some pancakes," Dean pops half a slice of bacon into his mouth and continues talking while chewing, "Me n’ Cas will eat later. I'm gonna take Sunshine his elixir of life first."

Jack chuckles while Dean pours a very full cup of black coffee into an ugly, handmade pea-green mug, and carefully climbs the staircase he made with his own two hands over the past summer. 

Their bedroom is upstairs and on the left in this little house that Dean built. He nudges the door he'd partially left open with his foot, maneuvering cautiously around the dresser and the clothes that were tossed onto the floor last night. 

Cas is asleep, more or less, when Dean sits down beside him and places the coffee mug on the bedside table. He mumbles something that Dean can't quite understand, either because he is drowsy or because he may be speaking Enochian. It’s hard to tell with his face half-pressed into the pillow. 

Dean lets his fingers drift up Cas’ shoulder and neck and then brushes his hair away from his face. He's going to have a bad case of bedhead when he gets up, Dean thinks with amusement.

"Wake up, Sweetheart," Dean tells him. "There's coffee." 

Cas' breathes out slowly, his nose scrunches up, and then he's waking, shifting under the covers, squinting at Dean in the early morning light sneaking through the blinds.

"Heya, Cas." Dean is ridiculously in love with him. The confused look Cas gets when he first wakes up makes Dean think about crazy things, like saying 'screw the world' and crawling back into bed and burrowing under the covers with him. These are things that a younger, sadder Dean Winchester had never known and never would have believed he could have, ten, fifteen - hell, even just two years ago.

(Today's Dean Winchester is a much happier man.)

Cas stares deep in Dean's eyes as he half sits up, rumbling out the familiar, "Hello Dean," and moves closer to kiss Dean good-morning very thoroughly.

After a long minute Cas pulls back, breathless, and asks, "Wait, what did you just say about coffee?"

Still gathering his wits, Dean gestures vaguely to the steaming mug, and Cas turns back to him with a faint smile. "Have I mentioned that I love you, Dean?" 

"Guh...not, uh, yet today," he manages to stutter out and Cas smirks as he raises the mug to take his first sip.

They go downstairs together, both so they can eat breakfast and so that Cas can get a refill, and in the process, they catch Jack in the act of handing Miracle a piece of bacon and a chunk of pancake. 

Everyone freezes in a domestic tableau; the hunter, the angel, the nephilim-god, and the world's best dog.

Cas recovers first, and sighs. "You know, he gets this from you," he accuses Dean dryly, and goes straight over to refill his coffee mug.

"Traitor," Dean tells a wagging Miracle. 

She isn't ashamed in the slightest.

END

[20moonchild21]

𝗦𝗲𝗵𝗻𝘀𝘂𝗰𝗵𝘁 [𝗯𝘁𝘀]

⇉ 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 7

[pairings]

JK x female!oc, Bunny!JK x human!female!oc, Jin x female!oc, Leopard!Jin x human!female!oc, Jimin x female!oc, white Tiger!Jimin x human!female!oc, Taehyung x female!oc, black Tiger!Taehyung x human!female!oc, JK x Jin x Jimin x Taehyung x female!oc

[warnings]

mentions of death, scared Jin, describing of injuries, mentions of an attack, threats

[words]

5.3k (uff, long one 🤭)

[author]

Ahhh, I love this chapter so much. I am so excited to upload all the other chapters in the future, and because I am almost done I now have so much more time to upload. I decided to now update every Wednesday and Sunday.

Do you love Hybrid stories? Do you love Jimin? And do you love both in combination? Then I have the perfect story for you to read! Check out my friend‘s profil @starlightauroras-writes and her story Inferiority complex. It’s super cute and well written. I love reading it and it inspired me so much to write my own story!

I also hope that you like my story. If you do, make sure to leave a like or a comment below. It’s really motivating to see that people like my story.

Stay healthy and safe!

Mꨄ

[chapter 6 ||| chapter 8]

„Found some interesting?” Jin looked up from his cookbook.

He watched the girl as she made her way through the living room, holding a mug in her hands. She carefully put it on the table and took a seat at the other end from the couch, before she pulled her knees up and laid her head onto them.

“I have never seen so much food.” The boy whispered, as he flicked through the pages. “Everything looks so delicious and colourful. How is that possible?”

The girl chuckled when she heard him swarming about all the recipes. Of course, she could never understand his amazement about food and how it looks like, but all his life, he had been locked up in that cell, only getting the minimum amount of food to survive.

It had flashed him the first day he had eaten breakfast with the girl and Jungkook. Everything she had put on the table looks delicious, but he was simply scared to try it, even though Jungkook offered him a few things. But after that day, he had forced himself to not be scared anymore and try that delicious meal the girl had cooked for them.

Sometimes, he had watched how she cut the vegetables or how she flipped the fried meat in the pan. It looked like so much fun to create all the different meals, and he liked the taste afterwards even more. He wanted to try that too.

“You know, my mother gave me that book when I first moved in here.” She said, as she grabbed her mug and took a sip. “When I lived alone, I never found the motivation to put much effort into the meals I cooked. It was only for me, so I never cooked a single meal out of this book. But with the three of us, I think it will worth a try. What do you think?”

Jin just nodded his head, before looking back down at the page he had opened. ‘Lasagne’ stood on the top of the page, followed by a delicious looking picture. He felt his mouth watering form just looking at it.

“Do you want to help me? I actually was about to start preparing dinner.” She suddenly said.

The boy didn’t know what to answer. Though he agreed to stay with her, that didn’t meant that he was trusting her fully. He was thankful for her kindness, but he needed time to actually get used to his new life with his brother and that girl. The fear that she would suddenly change her mind and give them away was still there.

“I – I don’t want to bother you.” He simply whispered, moving his gaze back down towards the book in his lap.

“You are never bothering me, Jin.” She answered quietly, as she stood up from the sofa. “Feel free to join me whenever you like.”

He watched her disappear in the small kitchen. He wanted to try to cook so badly, but he was scared that he would do anything wrong. What if he would mess something up and she would get angry? Would she change her mind and kick them out? Jungkook had told him about his flour incident once. He had said that she wasn’t mad at him at all, but instead that she laughed about how funny he had looked with the flour all over him.

He slowly rose from the sofa and went with baby steps towards the kitchen, clutching the book to his chest. The girl was just about to get all the supplies together when she turned around and looked at the frightened boy standing in the doorway.

“Come in, Jin.” She said while putting the baking dish onto the counter. “I could need your help.”

Jin hesitated but eventually stepped forward. He looked at the book that he still held in his arms, before he opened it and laid it on the counter. Hope read through the recipe, before she turned back and told Jin step by step what to do. She told him how to fry the meat correctly, while she prepared the noodle plates.

“Where is Jungkook even?” She suddenly asked him over the silence. “I haven’t seen him all day.”

“I – I think he is in his room.” He quickly answered, while he kept looking at the meat. “He was drawing something in that book when I saw him earlier.”

The girl smiled slightly. It seemed like she knew what the hell Jungkook was scrabbling into that book all day long. Jin had tried to ask him, but his younger brother would always close the book before he had a chance to look in.

“Ahh. I see.” She said and smiled. “I gave him that note book when he was here for a about a week. I told him that he should write in anything he doesn’t want to talk about with me. Like a diary or something.”

Jin nodded. It made sense now that Jungkook wouldn’t let him look into that book. He looked happy when he let his pen slide over the empty pages. Jin could tell that Jungkook looked more happy in general.

“I – I wanted to thank you.” He said shyly, looking up from the pan. He slightly bowed his head when he saw her looking at him over her shoulder. “My brother looks healthier and happier since he has lived here. Thank you.”

She just smiled and bowed back at him, which let him speechless. Never in his life had anyone bowed to him. He turned back towards his pan and pushed the meat around with the wooden spoon. It was only fried meat, but it was already smelling mouth-watering.

“I am happier, too, since you both live here with me.” She suddenly whispered almost to quiet for him to hear. “Shortly after I moved in here, my friends moved far away and my mom died. I love this apartment, but I always felt lonely. I like having your company at dinner time or while watching TV. That’s why I was so sad when you wanted to leave all the sudden.”

Jin looked at the girl back. He could tell that she was really sad, when suddenly he felt her heart beating faster and her scent changing its smell, but not in a bad way. The girl had been smelling good since he had met her a few days ago. She smelled natural, not covered in heavy parfum or deo like the woman he had met in his earlier life.

The boy suddenly felt overwhelmed with her sudden sadness. He didn’t know if it was his fault, and he especially didn’t know what he should do. He pressed his ears flatly against his head and wrapped his long, fluffy tail around his leg.

“I am sorry.” He whispered. “I never meant to – to make you sad.”

“No, don’t feel bad.” She turned around, laying the noodles down on the counter. “I know that you are scared and confused, and that’s okay. But please, never be scared of me, okay?”

They both smiled at each other, before Jin nodded and turned his attention back to the food. When the meat was done, they both prepare the sauce and began to stack up all ingredients into the baking dish.

Jin somehow felt proud of himself when he shoved the dish into the oven. A feeling that he hadn’t felt in a very long time. He was still kneeling in front of the oven, watching the lasagne through the small window.

“Listen, Jin.” He looked up at the girl, who was nervously fiddling with her shirt. “I don’t know if you still remember when I told you about the authority and the adoptions, yesterday. I actually made an appointment for tomorrow, but you never told me if you and Jungkook were okay with me adopting you. If not, that’s okay, I won’t be mad, but I want you to know that –“

“I want you to adopt Jungkook.” He quickly answered, standing up from the oven. “I wanted to take him with me because I didn’t know you, but now I want him to stay here. I – I don’t care if you adopt me or if you want to kick me out. I just want him to be safe, and I think that he is safe with you.”

It was true. He didn’t care about what she was going to do with him. All he ever wanted was for this young brother to have a proper and safe home and by now, he was sure that he would be happy living here. Even if that meant that he had to leave.

He gulped. Over the past days, he had to admit to himself that he liked living here. He like the warmth that surrounded him day and night. Not even the floor under his naked feet had felt cold one single time. In addition, she offered him a warm bed, food – safety.

“Jin.” The girl was about to grab his hand that hung loosely by his side, when she suddenly stopped in her tracks. She looked at him for permission, but when he didn’t react, she just grabbed it. He didn’t pull away. “I will never kick you out. You and Jungkook belong together, and I will let you here as long as you want to. Both of you deserve to be here.”

While she talked, she slightly squeezed his larger hand, emphasizing her words. His heart was beating so fast in his chest, as he nodded his head carefully, accepting her offer. He knew that he couldn’t forgot his past from one day to another, and he also knew that a long and difficult road laid ahead him, but he just hoped that he could start his future here, with Jungkook and the girl.

“Thank you.” He whispered, squeezing her hand back. “Thank you, so much.”

Hope yawned when she woke up the next morning. A look at her clock told her that it was too early in the day. She rubbed her heavy eyes and stretched her arms, before she went over to her dresser. While she pulled a new shirt out, when suddenly her nose was filled with a decent smell of freshly baked bread rolls. Quickly, she changed and made her way out of her room to find the source of the aroma in the air.

“What the – “ She gasped when she finally reached the dining room, where she already spotted a fully set breakfast table.

“Hope!” The bunny yelled excitedly when he saw the surprised girl. He stood next to the table and fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “We wanted to surprise you, because you are always so nice to us.”

She felt her heart swell with pride. In the kitchen behind the table, she saw Jin standing at the stove and scrambling the eggs in the pan, while he read in his book how to use the right condiments.

“Thank you so much.” The girl said, as she walked up to Jungkook. She hesitated at first, but eventually she wrapped her arms carefully around the bunny’s waist, laying her head on his chest for a few seconds. She really liked his height. “This is a nice surprise.”

She felt him tense for a moment, but he didn’t pushed her away though. When she pulled away, they smiled at each other for another few seconds, before she made her way up into the kitchen, where Jin was about to place the scrambled eggs on a plate.

“Good morning, Jin.” She smile and waved shyly, before she walked up to the water boiler.

“Good morning.” He said back. “I made scrambled eggs. I didn’t know if you like that, but I saw it in the book, and it looked really delicious so I thought that I could try it. But if you don’t like it I will – “

“Jin, it’s okay.” She smiled at his ramblings. “You try whatever you would like, and even if we don’t like it, it’s okay. Then we at least know to not cook it again. It smells amazing, by the way.”

Jin smiled proudly and together, they made their way back to the table, where Jungkook was already waiting. While they were eating, Hope asked the boys what they had planned to do for the day. Jungkook wanted to practice with the guitar again, because he hadn’t had the time in the past days. Jin had planned to read Jungkook’s favourite book, because the younger one had told him nonstop how awesome this book was.

“What are you doing today?” Jungkook asked the girl, as he shoved a spoon full of flakes into his mouth.

“I will got to the authority today, remember?” She watched as the boys looked at her wide eyes. “This means that you will be home alone for a few hours until I am back. Do you think you can do this?”

Both Hybrids looked at each other, before they carefully nodded in union. The girl just smiled, as she took a sip of her coffee. They looked like two teenage boys you would let alone for the very first time in their lives, looking at you with their innocent eyes, while promising that to not break anything. When she looked at Jin, she could tell from the expression on his face that he wanted to say something.

“What are you thinking about, Jin?” She put her mug back on the table. The boy’s head shot up. “I can see something is laying on your tongue.”

“I – “ He coughed and stopped, before clearing his throat again. “I just wanted to ask, if – if you could buy me – only if you want of course – such a note book like Jungkook has. But – but you don’t have to I just – “

“Of course, I will buy you one.” She interrupted him, before he would start rambling. “I am glad that you asked me, Jin. I think it will help you a little bit, but you can also come to me if you want to talk about something. You both know that, right?”

Once again, they nodded in union. When breakfast was over, they made the dishes together like every day, before every one had his time in the bathroom and got ready for the day. The girl brushed her teeth, hair and put one some decent make up.

Once she was done, she watched herself in the mirror. Hope had never thought about what impression she had on other people and especially not on boys. Never in her life, she had been the type of girl that boys would talk to. She was always the nerdy, shy girl in the first row, that answered the teachers questions and that would actually do her homework properly. But now, she lived with two boys together.

And those boys weren’t even normal. They had extra sensitive ears and noses and – wait. She sniffed at her shirt. Did she actually smell good, or should she rather put on some perfume? None of the boys ever mentioned something about her scent, beside Jungkook who had once complained about her smelling like Brian after he gave her his clothes. She smiled at this memory.

But still, she wondered what the boys think of her. She didn’t want them to think that she was ugly or that she would let herself go. If they thought of her as pretty? They are both Korean, maybe they are more fond of girl with dark hair. She sighed and laid the hairbrush down, before she made her way out of the bathroom. Now, there was no time to think about that.

“Boys! I will leave now.” She yelled through the apartment, as she grabbed her purse and jacket.

Immediately, a door was pulled open, followed by fast footsteps. Jungkook was the first on to run around the corner, Jin came after him a few seconds. The younger one had his ears hanging loosely next to his head, as he made his way over and stopped right in front of her. He looked at her sceptically, before his expression changed to a worried face.

“Don’t look so scared, Kookie. I won’t be gone for long.” She smiled at him, before she swung her jacket over her shoulders. “I put a list of numbers on the table. Mine is the first one. If something happens and you don’t know what to do, you can dial the number in the phone and press the green button. Don’t burn anything and don’t open the door to anyone. I have my own keys to come in, so leave the door closed, don’t matter who he says he is, okay?”

“Okay.” They both said, as she grabbed her keys and opened the door.

“See you later.” She smiled and waved at them, before she made her way down the stairs and out of the building. To say she wasn’t nervous to leave them alone would be a lie, but she also trusted them to not burn her apartment down while she was gone.

On her way, she mentally went through all the thing on her to-do-list. After her appointment in the authority, she would go and buy a new note book for Jin. Then, she would buy a matching frame the photos on her wall and print the picture she had taken of her two boys.

Her boys. She smiled at those words. Everything just seemed to be so unreal. 5 weeks ago, she would never had guessed that she would end up adopting two Hybrids at the same time. Not that she would complain, though. She really liked having the two of them around, also if she hadn’t known them for long. It just felt so right having them around.

After a minutes of driving, she finally reached the authority building. The appointment with the woman went over pretty strange. Everyone could have told that this woman didn’t like her job at all. She seemed to be impolite, uninterested and bored, as she gave Hope all the papers to sign.

“What are you planning on doing with two Hybrids at the same time?” The woman had asked. “The bunny won’t be worth so much, but I bet the leopard brings a lot of money at a fight club.”

It had taken the girl anything to not scream at such a stupid statement, but unfortunately, there was nothing she could do about it.

But this scenario was just another proof that something in this world had to change. Starting with her term papers, which deadline would end in just two weeks. Two more weeks and she hopefully would be a lawyer to safe and protect all Hybrids that would need her help in this cruel world. She would fight for any single one of them.

She quickly bought all the other things, before she made her way back to the car. Because the parking spots were rare in the big city, she had parked her car a little bit outside on a not so popular parking space. While she was walking over the gravel surface, she suddenly felt a shiver running down her spine

She quickly turned around, but there was no one but here at the parking space. She was alone. Hope pushed her purse closer to her body, before she turned back and kept walking faster to her car. Normally, she wasn’t the one to be scared while walking out alone or at night. When she was younger, her mom had sent her to a self-defending course, but she didn’t know if she really could defend herself if a man twice her size would attack her. Right now, she really wished that Jin and Jungkook were with her to protect her. She bet that no one would dare to treat her if she was in the company of two strong men.

As she was just a few meters away from her car, she suddenly heard fast and heavy footstep running up behind her. She wanted to turned around, but it was already too late. That someone had pushed her forward hardly, before he grabbed her purse and pulled away. Luckily, she could catch herself before her body could slam onto the ground. She let out a yelp, but instinctively grabbed the strap of her purse harder.

“Stop it! Let go!” She yelled at her attacker, who was furiously pulling at her purse.

Everything went so fast. When she had yelled for him to stop, the boy suddenly let go of her purse, making them both fall to the ground. She yelped when her bum hit the floor hard, but immediately, she clutched the piece of fabric harder to her chest, crawling back a few inches. If he would had taken the purse, he would also had taken the adoption papers she just got for Jungkook and Jin.

Her attacker wasn’t in a better position. When he had hit the ground, he let out a loud whimper, before he immediately crawled back until his back hit a parking car. He had curled himself up, hid his face protected by his hands and whispered something over and over again.

The girl gulped, as her heart seemed to jump out of her chest. She wanted to get up and run away, but her body seemed like it was paralyzed. With wide eyes, she stared at the person in front of her.

The boy had pressed himself tightly against the parking car behind him. He was clearly more scared of the girl than she was scared of him, even though he had just tried to steal her purse. His whole body was shaking under his baggy and ripped clothes, while his feet and hands were ripped and bloody. She couldn’t see his face, but over his dark brown hair, she saw the pair of white, round ears being flatly pressed against his head, while his fluffy, white and black striped tail was wrapped around his trembling body.

“H – Hey.” With a shaking voice, she tried to talk to him. “A – Are you okay?”

When he heard her voice, he curled himself further together, while he kept whispering ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’ over and over again. Hope didn’t know what to do. On the one hand, he looked so fragile and scared that she just wanted to run up and hug him, but on the other hand, he wanted to attack her, which meant that he could be dangerous.

“Hey, I – I am not mad at –“ She tried to keep her voice low and smooth, when she suddenly was interrupted by someone else.

“Miss, are you okay? Do you need me to call the police?” A man in his 40’s stood at the end of the parking space, looking shocked at the girl on the ground. When his eyes fell on the Hybrid, he took a big step back. “Did this beast attack you, Miss? I will call the police, don’t move!”

Before he had the chance to grab his cell phone, the girl shot up from the ground.

“No!” She yelled and stepped in front of the trembling boy on the ground. She tried to sound as normal as possible, when she started talking again. “No. There is no need to call the police. He belongs to me. Thank you, though.”

The man looked confused between the Hybrid and the girl, his hands were still holding the small smartphone.

“But he attacked you.” He sceptically said.

“No, he didn’t. He just –“ The girl coughed. She needed to find an explainable excuse for that little incident, or else the man would call the police. “Ehm – He just tripped and accidently pushed me forward. Nothing to worry about.”

“Okay.” He simply said and walked up to a black car. “Make sure to punish him the way he deserves it. Stupid animal.”

“I will.” The girl just whispered, hoping that he would buy her lie and just leave,

Then man didn’t look convinced at all. He asked her again if she needed help, but when she said ‘no’ once again, he eventually let go of the topic, stepped in his car and drove away as quickly as possible. The girl let out a deep breath. She didn’t know why she defended the Hybrid, but she couldn’t let the police take him away.

“Hey, you.” She kneeled back on the ground. “I don’t want to hurt you. I promise.”

Somehow, that scene reminded her of the day she found Jungkook. The boy kept trembling and muttering, but he never moved an inch. The girl didn’t let go, thought. She kept talking to him in a soft voice, telling him that she wasn’t mad and that she wouldn’t hurt him. Somehow, it even worked. After a few minutes, the boy’s shanking got less, and he eventually dared to look up at her.

Like Jin and Jungkook, the boy had Korean face features. He had deep brown eyes, a straight nose and beautiful, pump lips that were bruised at one side.

“I am sorry.” He whispered in an now clearer, but creaking voice, studying the girl’s face closely.

“It’s okay.” She whispered back. Her hands had stopped from shaking, as the boy talked. He didn’t seemed to be dangerous. “I am not mad. Can you tell me what happened to you? What is your name?”

He didn’t answer. He just kept shaking his head, while his hands started shaking again. He mumbled something under his breath what sounded like ‘Hyung’. The world sounded familiar in her ears. Jungkook called Jin Hyung. Maybe he was talking about his brother.

“Hyung? Your brother?” She tried to understand what he was referring to, and indeed, when she asked him about his brother, he nodded his head.

He looked over the parking space, before he lifted his finger and pointed into the old, rotten parking garage. The building looked like it would break down any minute. It was dangerous to go in there.

“Is your brother in there?” She asked in a shaking voice, not sure if she wanted to know the answer or not.

The boy nodded quickly, mumbling the words ‘Hyung’ and ‘hurt’. Her heart began to start beating faster again. Of course, she would not just leave the poor boy alone while his brother was injured. She had seen Jungkook’s reaction when his brother was hurt, and she also remember Jin’s word, as he had begged her to take in Jungkook. She could guess what was going on in the Hybrid in front of her.

“I will help your brother, okay?” She stood up from the ground, looking over at the rotten building. “I will help you.”

Hope trailed after the boy though the parking garage. After the boy had told her about his brother being injured, she had gotten her first aid kit out of the car and followed him through the endless hallways. She wasn’t sure if Jimin – he had told her his name a few minutes ago – really had a brother that was in here. Maybe he had told her a lie to entice her into this building. But on the other hand, why would he do this?

She looked at the hybrid in front of her. He was smaller than Jin and Jungkook, but still taller than her. He was thin, with an oversized shirt and shorts that hung loosely over his body. They kept walking for about 5 minutes, until the girl suddenly heard a voice.

“Jimin?” Someone’s voice came from another corner of the building, not far away from them. It was definitely a male voice. “Jimin!” The voice suddenly got louder. “Someone is here Jimin! Jimin!”

Jimin started running into the direction the voice was coming from. He took one last turn, before he kneeled down next to another person. The boy leaned against the cold wall in the corner of the room. The other boy’s clothes were dirty and ripped like Jimin’s, and he held his bruised and swollen arm against his upper body. When he spotted the girl, he tensed up.

“Go away, human!” He screamed, as he showed of his sharpened fangs in the corners of his mouth.

The girl took a step back. Those fangs were sharp and big enough to rip out her throat. The boy tried to sit himself up further, pushing Jimin behind him with his healthy arm.

“No, Tae.” Jimin had laid his hands on his brothers arm. “She wants to help you. She – “

“I don’t need help.” He hissed back, pressing his black ears against his head. “And especially not from her. She is bad! She is a human, Jimin. Stay away from her.”

“But Tae, you are hurt and she has something to treat your wound.” Jimin was looking deeply in his brothers eyes. „Please, Tae. Please.”

Tae’s nose trails went wide, as his eyes flickered between Jimin’s pleading eyes. It was obvious that he was scared about his brother’s safety, and from the way he spoke about human it was clear that they had made some pretty bad experiences. He removed his eyes from Jimin, before he stared closely at her. After a few seconds, he growled loudly and turned his head away.

Jimin quickly gestured for the girl to step closer, as his brother looked out of the giant window, still growling.

“Okay.” She whispered to herself, as she kneeled down in front of the boys. “My name is Hope. I am not a doctor, but I think I can help you though. I will have to check your arm to see if it’s broken or not. I will try to be careful, okay?”

He didn’t look at her. He pressed his lips tightly against each other, only the growl could be heard. To say she wasn’t scared would be a lie, but maybe if he felt her heartbeat he would realized that she was more feared than dangerous.

Carefully, she laid her hands on his cold arm. Immediately, he hissed sharply. He parted his lips, flashing out his sharp incisors, as he licked his tongue over them. Hope forced herself not to look at them, but keep going instead. Jimin on his other side had taken Tae’s hand, squeezing it slightly.

“Okay, I think it’s not broken.” She opened her first aid kit and pulled out a bandage. “But it’s infected and slightly sprained. I will wrap a bandage around it, but we will definitely have to clean it up, before it will get really bad. If you would come home with me I – “

“No!” Tae pulled his arms abruptly away, looking angrily at the girl, as she fell back on her bum because of his sudden movement. “We won’t go with you, human.”

The girl’s eyes flickered between him and Jimin. She know that Tae was scared, but his injury definitely needed to be threatened, or else he would catch a really bad infection. In addition, the nights would get cold, too cold to sleep in a rotten parking garage.

“Jimin.” The girl hoped that she could at least talk some sense into him. “He will get worse if his wound will get infected more and more, and it’s cold here. Please, I just want to look over your injures at home. You can leave anytime you want, but please, stay the night with me.”

Even a blind one could tell that Jimin was torn between his brother and Hope. With tears in his eyes, he looked at his brother, squeezing his hand.

“Tae, please let her help us.” He whispered, laying his head on the other boy’s shoulder, rubbing his nose over the sensitive skin there. “I can’t lose you, Tae. Please.“

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[harrisonstories]

"George [Harrison] and me sitting by a stream on a 7,000-acre ranch in the Malibu mountains. George left a recording session in Hollywood, about an hour's drive away, to attend an affair of mine."

- Ken Mansfield, The White Book (this photo was taken in May 1973)

"[George] was cutting up veggies and cooking lunch, intent on the task at hand and being cautious with the carrots. He seemed abnormally absorbed, head down and talking as he was working. He had called me into the kitchen to tell me something. Even though it had been almost four years since I had left Apple Records, our personal relationship was still ongoing. Because I had been there at the beginning of this unfolding episode, he wanted me to be one of the first to know that the Beatles (or solo Beatles by this time) were leaving Allen Klein. It was ironic that I was there at the house that day when he got the telephone call that it was over.

The four of us had been outside by the pool when the call came in from London. The conversation became very extended, so the girls got bored and decided to go shopping, leaving me to tell George that we had been deserted by our women. Their departing message was that George's bad manners were going to cost us money on Rodeo Drive and that we were to fend for ourselves as far as lunch was concerned.

The final decision had just been made to dump Klein as the Beatles' and Apple's business manager. It was particularly appropriate that I should hear it straight from George. He was very aware of and sensitive to my feelings of allegiance toward Ron Kass, the man Klein had forced out of the presidency at Apple. He knew that this friendship and loyalty were reasons I left Apple Records and followed Kass to MGM records.

I'll never forget the atmosphere of graciousness that surrounded us in the kitchen that day. George had a way of making a setting very serene when he wanted to talk about personal things. It was his unique way of keeping everything in a gentle and kind perspective. I leaned against the cabinets as he stirred the upcoming meal in the frying pan. We began talking quietly about Allen Klein: our personal impressions of him, about our friend Ron Kass, and about the meal we would soon be eating. I remember that George was barefooted and had on a shapeless long-sleeve shirt and English jeans that day. (I always called them English jeans because they never looked like our pants; and besides, it seemed like English rock-and-roll stars, especially the guitar players, always had these tiny butts and little skinny legs. This always seemed to make their pants look different regardless of the cut.) So, during our conversation, this gentle, barefoot Beatle with no butt and skinny legs proceeded to elaborate on why I should become a vegetarian like he was. He told me one reason was that animals experience fear when they sense that they are going to be killed. This fear is released into their system just prior to death, and this fear is what we eat when we eat meat. This 'fact' and other bits of similar information he presented that day put a different slant on hamburgers for me and made the previously unappetizing rice and veggies concoction on the stove look a lot more approachable. There was no place to sit down in the long, narrow, railroad-style kitchen, so I stood transfixed while he softly explained other more spiritual reasons for his culinary bent.

Even though what was going down with Klein was incredibly important and disturbing at that time, George's interest and mine soon seemed to tire of deep matters in the darkened kitchen. With the bright California sun streaming in through distant windows, our energies became focused on the food preparation task at hand, and our minds wandered to the cool pool waiting outside. George typically never had harsh words to say about people, and as traumatic as this event was, he maintained this personal propriety. There were disappointments and serious questions about Klein's handling of both financial and career matters, but the tone of George's musings always stayed inquisitive and not accusative.

Soon the phones started going crazy. It was getting late, and I was late for the studio, so I said goodbye into the ear without a phone in it and headed for the flats and an all-night recording session."

- Ken Mansfield on George and Pattie's Spring 1973 visit to Los Angeles, CA, The White Book