CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS // UNDERAGE Prompt Post // November 1-15
This post is for ANY AND ALL UNDERAGE PROMPTS. This means any pairing where one or both persons are under the age of 18.
PROMPTS AND FILLS MENTIONING REAL PERSONS CURRENTLY UNDER THE AGE OF 18 ARE BANNED.
They can not be aged up or mentioned in passing. Use OCs or someone else to fill the void.
ART DEPICTING UNDERAGED PERSONS IN ANY SITUATION IS ( Read more... )
PROMPTS AND FILLS MENTIONING REAL PERSONS CURRENTLY UNDER THE AGE OF 18 ARE BANNED.
They can not be aged up or mentioned in passing. Use OCs or someone else to fill the void.
ART DEPICTING UNDERAGED PERSONS IN ANY SITUATION IS ( Read more... )
"This isn't love, darling," Anthony said. "It's pure lust and because Jared is the freak he is, he's getting a boner over chocolate and spice instead of supple limbs and pretty faces like he's supposed to."
"Perhaps we could focus on the contest," Ina said. She tapped the edge of her plate with the tine of her fork. "I have to admit, this is clearly superior to anything else put in front of us. I'm not sure I believe it was all prepared in such a short time by a teenager. A professional would be hard pressed to assemble a meal like this."
"He's from Texas," Giada said. "The Omega cooking competitions down there are brutal. They start them young. It can be like a pressure cooker at times. They're worse than beauty pagents."
"So our winner seems pretty obvious," Ina said.
"I don't know," Anthony said. "I was more impressed with the rissoles with chili cranberry-tamarind sauce. Competitor number three. They reminded me of street food in Indonesia. They had a very fresh, very authentic taste."
"Mine was burned and had had the burned parts scraped off, mostly. Parts of his meal were excellent, but overall it was a very uneven presentation. The plating was weak. Messy," Jared said, going over his notes.
"You don't get a vote anymore, Padalecki."
"No, he has a point. Yes, there were individual dishes here and there by other competitors that far exceeded each individual dish in competitor six's meal," Ina said. "But as the whole package, number six is it for me. Presentation, creativity, technique, use of the required elements, even keeping to the theme- its all there."
"I agree," Giada said. "I think the winner is obvious."
They had another break in filming, at least their segments. It looked like they were getting footage of interviews with the competitors. Jared made his way back to his dressing room to wait. By this point, Jared's attorney, Jeff Morgan, had made it to the soundstage where they were shooting the competition. He presented Jared with a standard contract and pre-nup.
He started explaining the contingencies, how Jared could back out and the consequences and then if the Omega or his family backed out. Once the mating would happen, if it broke up, regardless of the reason, the Omega wouldn't get much for the first couple of years, a hundred thousand per year of mating, plus child support for any pups born in the mating. Once they hit the five year mark together, the amount grew to a million, then, by the time they hit ten years, it was a equal division of property.
"So, he must be great beauty, to get you to agree to be tied down like this," Jeff said.
"I don't really know. But he cooks like a demon. Like he made a deal with the devil."
"I should have known you'd be brought down low by your stomach eventually."
Jeff laughed at him, but pushed more and more papers at Jared until they were all signed. "I'll go find his father and present your offer."
Eventually, Jeff returned, a couple of middle class, middle aged people in his wake, obviously the parents of competitor number six. The Alpha of the pair was clutching a bundle of papers, the mating contract.
"You're the Alpha that wants to mate my youngest son," the Alpha said. It wasn't a question, though it was implied that there was a chance Jared wouldn't measure up to what the man called an Alpha at all.
"Are the terms not acceptable?"
"I'm an attorney and I know boiler plate when I see it. My son is not a boiler plate Omega."
Jeff answered for him, thankfully. "Mr. Ackles, then you know this isn't a final offer. It's the first volley in a negotiation. Every mating contract ends up being unique as the individual's mating. Now, shall we determine what particular clauses are not acceptable, as is?"
"There needs to be a courtship period. We are not leaving our youngest son half way across the country in the custody of a man so much older and more powerful than him, who he's never spent so much as a minute alone with."
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"I know enough," Jared said. "I know I would eat this cooking every day for the rest of my life and I would be happy because of it. Jeff, whatever concessions they want, I'm pretty sure I'm on board with."
There was a knock on the door frame and then the production assistant just slid into the open door.
"Mr. Padalecki, you're needed back on set."
Jared didn't bother looking in the mirror. There was someone who would see that his hair was just so before he stepped onto the sound stage. "Jeff, you''ll get this nailed down for me, right?"
As they headed to the sound stage, the P.A. filled him in on what they would be shooting. The votes from the four judges had been tabulated and they'd be awarding first, second and third prizes. The first prize winner was number six, of course. Jared's heart did a little flip flop in his chest, a sign of nerves he hadn't had for years. He was going to lay his eyes on his intended for the first time. Back in the other room, hopefully Jeff would be hammering out the details and getting things worked out.
First there was the prepping and someone fixing his makeup and hair, then the director explaining what was expected from the next segment. Jared hardly listened to a minute of it. Then the third and second prizes were awarded and Jared said some things on camera and other people said things, but whatever they were, they slipped out of his memory right away.
Finally, his intended was brought out, squinting a little because of the bright lights. And he was beautiful, just like Jared knew he would be. You didn't cook like he had without being beautiful, just like Rembrandt's paintings were always beautiful. It was something that came from the soul, something beyond mere prettiness.
But the boy, Jensen was his name apparently, was pretty too. His eyes stood out first, big, deep and sparkling. He was a slender waif of a boy, almost overwhelmed by his white chef's jacket, a few tendrils of light brown, almost blond hair escaping from his black head wrap. His lips were lush and pink. He blinked in the direction of the judges and smiled slightly, just a little shy.
Not surprising he was a little reticent and shy. The competitors weren't told who their celebrity judges were until this point. Jared found himself liking it a little, that shyness. He wouldn't have said he'd wanted a submissive Omega, but one with a mild manner like this was appealing. Not that Jared would ever have wanted to go back to the days when Omegas were owned and sequestered only in the household, but he did like an Omega who behaved like an Omega. He wondered if Jensen had been told about the mating contract offer yet.
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I don't usually read WIP's and I didn't realize it was a WIP until I got to the end of what you've posted. I was very disappointed there wasn't more!!! That's a good thing though ;)
Great job and I'll be waiting patiently for more!
I do also have to say that I rarely read abo fics. Sometimes I'll take a peek just to check out the dynamics...and the cooking part of this prompt had me curious. I like the dynamics you chose with the omega able to refuse contracts and getting a say in their mates and that Jensen's parents advocated for him too despite who Jared was and his celebrity status.
I think a lot of what turns me off about some abo fics is that there is no choice, no say for the omega...they are at the mercy of nearly any alpha in all aspects. There's no mutual respect. I liked that that wasn't the case here.
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Jensen knew he must have won some kind of prize. They only paraded the prize winners in front of the celebrity panel. When they started talking at him about food, how the flavors in his dishes stood out, how his techniques were outstanding, he suddenly realized, he hadn't won just a prize, but the prize. He'd won. The days in a row, because he'd been cooking in this competition for nearly a week now at various levels, of hot lights and not enough rest, of being too nervous to eat or sleep, caught up with him suddenly. He started to feel lightheaded. Then the tunnel vision came. He could feel his knees grow week, then there was nothing, just dark.
When Jensen came to, he was lying on the floor of the set. His head was on a pair of legs and when he looked up, it was right into Chef Padalecki's face. He was lying with his head on Jared Padalecki's lap. He almost fainted again right then. He was mortified. He'd collapsed because of just the slightest amount of pressure, right in front of the man he idolized most. And now he was lying, head in his lap.
"Hey, you'll be okay. The set medics are on their way," Jared said. Jensen's head wrap had fallen off and Jared pushed the hair out of Jensen's eyes with a surprisingly gentle touch. Jensen was suddenly very okay with having fainted, because it had gotten him into the lap of this amazing Alpha. He was so huge and smelled so good. Jensen never wanted to leave this lap.
Too soon though, men in uniforms, with kits and a stretcher pushed their way through the crowd and took over. Jared surrendered Jensen over to their care. They took Jensen's vitals and stopped him from getting up even though he protested that he was feeling just fine now.
"It's probably just vasovagal syncope," the paramedic told him. "But just to be safe, we're going to take you to the hospital, run a few tests, okay?"
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"You did it, Munchkin," his Dad told him as they were taking a cab back to their hotel room.
Jensen leaned against his Dad's chest and sighed. Even though he'd supposedly won the contest, he'd also fainted on a national TV show and the footage was captured for all to see. Never mind that it had happened in front of a huge studio audience. He'd humiliated himself. He'd acted just like the stereotypical Omega who couldn't handle the pressure. It was worse than if he'd broken down in tears in the middle of the show.
"Is it too late to get out of the show and not be on TV?" Jensen asked.
His mom, on his other side, said, "Oh, Sweetie. You couldn't help fainting. Anyway, the producers said they expect a few Omegas to pass out every year. You did so good. They loved you. People were talking about offering you a show. And of course, there's the cookbook deal you got for your prize. And something even better."
It was only then that Jensen realized they had gone past the hotel they were staying at and past the studio.
"We've got an offer for a mating contract," his dad said. "It's a very good one. Very generous. You would be well cared for your whole life. I got the Alpha to agree to an unlimited courtship, so you wouldn't need to leave home right away, not until you're ready. I know people let their Omegas go to be mated as young as ten, but I just couldn't see you leaving home yet, Munchkin."
"We're going there now, for you to read it and see. To meet your Alpha."
Jensen could have just about cried. That wasn't what he'd wanted. Now that he'd been near Jared Padalecki, taken in his scent, rested his head in Jared'd lap, he knew that he didn't want any other Alpha, ever. It was stupid to think that it was Jared offering a contract. An Alpha like that could have any Omega he wanted. He wouldn't want some old maid Omega who was too weak to not faint when the rubber hit the road, who collapsed under pressure.
He'd probably gotten a contract from some fat, ugly cooking show producer.
"Do we have to do this now?" he said, knowing he sounded peevish. "I'm tired. I just want to go to sleep."
"No, of course not," his dad said.
"But you do want to eat, right?" his mom asked. "We're at the restaurant already. You don't even have to look at the contract tonight. Just have dinner and talk with the man a little. I think you'll be surprised and pleased."
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Because he wasn't going to take this mating contract or anyone else's ever. He knew who his mate should be now and it was a man who was utterly unobtainable. So he was going to be an old maid, which meant going back to Texas and never leaving his parent's house, until they died and he had to go live with an Alpha brother.
"Okay," he said. "I'll meet this guy, but I'm not making any promises."
"No one's asking you to do anything but keep an open mind, Munchkin," his dad said.
They walked in, past the fancy awning and mirrored glass doors into a cool, dimly lit space. There were bottle green walls, jazz playing softly on a good stereo system and leather sofas all around. It looked like some particularly hip bachelor pad. Dad was about to step up to the walnut wood desk where a very thin woman in very high heels was obviously the hostess, but then suddenly, Chef Padalecki himself entered from the dining room and rushed to great them. He seemed terribly eager and happy to see them. If he'd been a dog, it would have been one of those golden retrievers puppies that jumps all over people, tail wagging all the time.
"Alan! Danny!" he said. "I'm so glad you could make it after all. And Jensen is doing fine after his little adventure?"
"Jensen is fine. After this, we'll want to get him to bed, but he's got a clean bill of health," Dad said.
"C'mon in," Jared said. "C'mon. I've got our best table waiting. Jeff is here already."
The dining room was like the bar and entry area, with leather upholstered banquettes and walnut wood panelling every place that wasn't painted dark green. The music turned out to be a jazz trio of piano, standing bass and soft drums. Jared ushered them to a round booth near a lit fire place. A dark haired man in a casual suit sat the booth already, a pint of beer in front of him. Was that the man who'd offered the contract?
The wait staff was fantastic, because someone came over right away, bearing a bottle of what looked like champagne. Jared himself put a flute in front of Jensen. Dad made disapproving sounds and Mom said, "He's only fifteen."
Jared said, "Just one glass. I figure this is a particularly important occasion."
Why was Jared here and why was he celebrating Jensen getting mated to this old guy in the suit?"
The old guy in the suit said, "Has Jensen had a chance to read the final contract yet?"
"No, I haven't even seen it yet," Jensen said, not touching his champagne.
"Jensen spent the larger part of the evening in the emergency room," Dad said. "We won't be signing tonight, I don't think. You understand. Maybe the morning might be better."
"Agreed, no need to rush into this," the man in the suit said. He held his hand out to Jensen and said, "I'm Jeff Morgan, Jared's attorney. I helped him and your father draft the mating contract he's offering you."
"Wait? Jared wants me?"
"Yeah, I do."
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"I knew this wasn't a good idea," his dad said. "Let's get him back to the hotel. We can talk in the morning."
"I'm fine," Jensen said, not putting his head up yet, but turning his face to look at Dad and beyond him, to Jared, who was looking worried, mouth pressed together, no longer so much the golden retriever puppy. "I just don't believe it. Why? You never even met me before."
"Your food. I always said I'd mate the Omega who could cook rings around me and I found him."
"And that's me?"
Jensen felt stupid for repeating, but he couldn't quite wrap his brain around it. Jared. Wanted him. Jared who smelled like deep contentment and home and mate. Jared, who he'd had an impossible crush on for about as long as he could remember. Jared wanted him and wanted him so much that he'd offered a mating contract that had been called generous and that had an almost unheard of unlimited courtship period. Most of the ones that Jensen knew about were a year or less.
"It's you," Jared said. "Look. You don't have to decide anything tonight. I'm just going to go into my kitchen and I'm going to cook for you. What's your favorite cut? Or do you not like steak? I can do salmon, or lamb, or even a pork chop. We do a fantastic pork chop here."
"Steak is fine," Jensen said. "Ribeye?"
"Good," Jared said and their eyes met. Jared had the most amazing eyes. They seemed to be many colors all at once, green and gray with warm brown near the pupil. "I'll be back soon."
Mom and Dad seemed to slip into conversation easily with Jeff, about the contract, about legal stuff that slipped right over Jensen's head. So he acted like he had to go to the bathroom and slid out of the booth, and found his way to the kitchen. It was easy enough to find, and no one stopped him as he walked right through the swinging doors into the well light, white and stainless steel space.
Jensen wasn't sure just what he was expecting to see, maybe Jared shouting at the line cooks and making everyone's life hell, just like he did on his tv shows. Instead, what he saw was Jared Padalecki in total concentration, working fast and efficiently. His line cooks and the other kitchen helpers moved smoothly around him, plating, grilling, sauteing. They worked as a team that Jared happened to be the captain of. He wasn't throwing any pans or berating people. When needed, he seemed to speak softy to his crew. A waitress came in bearing a plate, apparently a customer not happy with the meal. Jared took the plate in stride, spoke a few, calm words to the waitress and then set about making a new plate for the customer himself.
Somehow relieved, Jensen slipped back out of the kitchen before anyone noticed him and made his way back to the booth. He was relieved. Because sure, the cooking shows, especially Jared's, romanticized the idea of the high strung chef screaming at his staff until they got it right, but his experience at L'Auberge Saigon and at school told him that the best kitchens were run with respect.
"Mom," he said, just loud enough to attract his attention. "I think I want to get to know Chef Padalecki better. I think I might want to sign that contract."
END
(unless anyone expresses interest in a porny epilogue)
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this was such an awesome fill.
I am totally grateful to you for writing it. And would definitely not say no to a sequel, porny or otherwise ;-)
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