#and for some godforsaken reason there was bacon in it

[lostandbackagain]

you guys ever wake up evil

[italktogodbut]

[niccamon]

glad to see the guys on the tim hortons subreddit feel the same way i do about the grilled cheese sandwich

for context tim hortons used to offer a bacon grilled cheese that was pretty good. it was YUMMY. it cost SEVEN or maybe EIGHT DOLLARS. it did not take THAT LONG TO MAKE. it was FILLING. it was HOT. and since tim hortons are everywhere its VERY EASY TO HAVE ONE

but for some godforsaken reason they've discontinued the bacon grilled cheese melt (which is what they call it and what you have to say when ordering) in favor of some new pizzas that they're offering. which is insane because 1. pizzas is not remotely in tim hortons wheelhouse and 2. i really liked the sandwich! i like eating the sandwich because its pretty good ! but not anymore i guess

[tennessoui]

this is probably too many prompts lol but uhhh obikin: #6 meeting at a coffee shop au; #24 literally bumping into each other au; #40 exes meeting again after not speaking for years au (i'm a sucker for breaking up and getting back together again lol); #42 star-crossed lovers au; #48 meeting again at a high school reunion au

hi!! you probably forgot you sent this at all and I wouldn't blame you in the slightest. I'm pretty sure someone else already asked for 24, 40, and 42, so I wrote #6 instead! warnings for this one: bittersweet in that both anakin and obi-wan are sad, also the author is sad, also this takes place in the midwest in america (this is the first fic that is obviously set in america!!! wow!!)

6. Meeting At A Coffee Shop Diner AU (1.9k)

“Have a seat anywhere you want,” the hostess tells Obi-Wan without looking up from her phone.

Obi-Wan blinks and then looks around the deserted seating area. “Thank you, uh.” She’s not wearing a name tag.

“Angel’ll bring you the menu and take care of you, thanks for coming in,” she says, glancing up at him and then away.

Well then. Obi-Wan reminds himself that customer service isn’t everyone’s strong suit, that she might have had a rough day, that he’s here for the quick food on his way through town, that his ego isn’t fragile enough that he needs to be led to a table with a smile.

The restaurant is almost completely deserted. There’s two truckers eating their weight in bacon and eggs at the counter, and a family of four seated around a table, resolutely picking at their food instead of talking to each other. And then there’s Obi-Wan.

He chooses a booth by the window, one that overlooks the absolute nothingness of midwestern American scenery. If he cranes his neck, he can probably see corn.

God, Obi-Wan’s sick of seeing corn, and he’s only been in this part of the country for a few hours. He needs to go right through most of it to get where he’s headed. He’s not sure how he won’t die of boredom.

The thought sends a pang through his chest. It’s too soon to think of death even in an offhand way. He taps his fingers on the cover of his leather journal, before a line of dark brown under one of them catches his eye. He studies his hand critically.

It’s been two days since the funeral. Surely he wouldn’t still have grave dirt under his nails. Surely things like that wash away eventually.

“Hey,” a voice says from in front of him. A man is turned around and kneeling up in the booth in front of Obi-Wan’s, leaning over the garishly red vinyl of the empty seat with a menu clutched in one hand. His hair is short and dark blond, an undercut with a long fringe settling over his forehead. He has a nice sort of smile, one that looks genuine but doesn’t touch his eyes. Obi-Wan notices how long the man’s neck is and how predominant his collarbones appear in the loose white shirt he’s wearing, before he forces himself to focus only on his face. “I’m Angel,” the guy says, passing over the menu. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

Obi-Wan accepts it gingerly. It looks like something that’s perpetually sticky. “Water is fine,” he says politely. “Thank you.”

“Will do,” Angel salutes him and ambles away. Obi-Wan watches him go before shaking his head to rid himself of any sort of thought, and opening the menu.

It’s standard food fare, of course. Breakfast options served all day if anyone were to come in and request them. Lunch and dinner options are also served all day, probably for the same reason: a diner like this can’t afford to turn anyone away, even if they want a hamburger at nine in the morning.

A glass of water clinks down onto the table next to him, making him look up at Angel, who’s looking at him curiously.

“You ready to order?” he asks, even though Obi-Wan is still very much looking at the menu and it’s also only been a few minutes at most since Angel gave it to him in the first place.

“Do you have any suggestions?” Obi-Wan asks politely. “I’ve never been here before. What’s good?”

“The water,” Angel says and then laughs like he’s said something funny. Obi-Wan finds his own mouth curling up at the sound. Sometimes people’s laughter is contagious, like a yawn.

And then Angel says, “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No,” Obi-Wan admits. “North of Boston.”

Angel whistles, like Obi-Wan has said something impressive. “Boston, huh? What are you doing all the way out here?”

The pit in his stomach intensifies. He does his best not to look at his nails and the grave dirt that might still be under them. “Driving,” he finally says. “And are you...from around here?”

Angel’s eyes grow distant for a second, and when he focuses again on Obi-Wan, they’re cold. “Born and raised,” he tells him flatly. “Never got out.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan doesn’t know what to do with the sort of bitterness in Angel’s tone. It complements his own well enough.

“If you like eggs, I’ll put you in for the house special omelette,” Angel declares suddenly, all business again. “It’s four eggs, tomatoes, peppers, cheese. The usual.”

“What makes it special?” Obi-Wan asks, closing his menu and setting it down on the table in front of him.

“For you?” Angel drawls, “I’ll watch the cook to make sure he doesn’t get any egg shells in it,” and then he winks, holding out his hand.

Naturally, Obi-Wan shakes it. Naturally, Obi-Wan realizes a second after feeling Angel’s warm, calloused rough palm against his own that the man had meant to take the menu from Obi-Wan.

He can’t remember the last time he’s blushed this red, but he is absolutely regretting everything about this road trip. God, he’d pay money just to be able to leave now.

He should get in his car and drive back to Boston. It had been a stupid idea to come out here anyway, a result of stir-craziness and a desire to outrun the death of his father.

And now look what he’s doing. Shaking hands with his handsome waiter, as if he isn’t thirty-nine and perfectly aware of social norms.

Thankfully, miraculously, Angel laughs and this time it sounds real. “It’s okay,” he tells him, reaching out to pick up the menu.

Luckily for everyone involved, Obi-Wan finds it very easy to laugh at himself. “Well. It’s nice to meet you, Angel, I’m Obi-Wan.”

“I’ll go put the order in,” Angel says, “Obi-Wan.”

He’s back within five minutes, sliding into the seat across from Obi-Wan. So much for no eggshells in his omelette, but he can’t bring himself to be disappointed. There’s something magnetically fascinating about Angel. He’d like to know more.

“So you’re driving?” Angel asks, picking up a thread of conversation from several minutes ago. “Where are you going?”

“I was thinking of Alaska,” Obi-Wan says. “I’ve--I’ve always wanted to go.”

“You’re driving from Boston to Alaska?” Angel whistles, raising his eyebrows in shock. “I think the gas money alone would cost me two months of work.”

Obi-Wan shrugs. It’s not like he makes much himself as a teacher in Massachusetts. “My father was a lifelong gambler,” he discloses without really knowing why he’s telling this to a stranger. “He came into a bit of luck near the end. A bit of a fortune as well. And when he...died, I inherited it and his house.”

Angel touches his hand softly. “I’m sorry,” he says. “When did he pass?”

Obi-Wan huffs out what might be a chuckle. “A week ago, actually. It’s summer break in Massachusetts--I’m a teacher--and I suddenly had nothing to stay for, for a bit. It was either leave for Alaska or find some other way to cope.”

He runs a hand--his free hand, the one Angel isn’t touching--over his beard as he gives the man a rueful smile. “Dad always wanted me to see more of the world.”

“My mom was the same way,” Angel leans forward to tell him, as if it’s a secret. Obi-Wan feels like it is a secret, that there’s something delicate and fragile in the air. Something that matches whatever emotion is filling up Angel’s eyes. “Always telling me to leave, go get famous, go get happy, come back and tell her about it.”

“You didn��t?” Obi-Wan asks, his chest tightening at the thought that the man before him could be unhappy.

“I couldn’t,” Angel sneers, looking out the window and propping his chin on his hand. Some things must be too close to the heart to tell someone to their face. “Mom got sick. I wanted to get out, I was so close. Graduated high school, packed my stuff. I was going to go to California. To Los Angeles, really make it big.” He rolls his eyes and scoffs, as if there’s something inherently funny about the dreams he must have cherished for so long.

“Then mom collapsed going down the stairs. Just passed out in the middle of the day. Doctors told us she was sick. Then life became all about treatment plans and monitoring symptoms and getting the money for the medicines and I never left. Got a job here when I was eighteen years old, right before I graduated high school. It’s all I’ve ever known, I guess.”

“And your mother?” Obi-Wan asks, mouth dry and heart all tangled up in itself for this stranger man, for Angel with the hard, sad eyes.

“Died a year and a half ago or so,” Angel says flatly like he’s repeated the words so often in his head that the truth digs no barbs into his flesh. Obi-Wan knows that voice is a lie. How often has he looked in the mirror this past week and told himself, ‘Qui-Gon Jinn is dead’? He can’t imagine a year and a half would make the pain go away.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan says seriously, reaching across the table to touch Angel’s hand this time.

Angel shrugs but doesn’t pull away. “Is what it is, I guess,” he says. “I’ve made my peace with it. And the fact that I’ll never leave this godforsaken town.”

“You could,” Obi-Wan points out hesitantly. “You could leave tomorrow.”

For a second, a wild and previously undiscovered part of Obi-Wan wonders what it would be like, if Angel did leave tomorrow--with him. If they got into the same car and headed to Alaska together and Obi-Wan wasn’t alone at the wheel and Angel wasn’t alone in this town. If Obi-Wan could look over at the man in the passenger seat, asleep against the doorway as they crossed into Canada.

Obi-Wan wonders. Obi-Wan aches.

“I could,” Angel says, laughing once. “I guess I could. I guess I just can’t think of a good enough reason to.”

There’s a call of his name from the kitchen, and Angel stands and stretches, checking the time on his watch. “That’ll be your omelette, sir, which is perfect timing considering I’m off shift as of five minutes ago.”

“Thank you then,” Obi-Wan replies, ignoring the pang in his gut at the knowledge he won’t be able to keep talking to him. “It was nice meeting you, Angel.”

Angel’s face grows dark for a second as his jaw clenches. “That’s not my name,” he finally says, scratching at his neck with one hand. “That’s just what they called me when I started working here. Angel, like Los Angeles. Cause I told everyone for weeks this was a temporary thing, you know? I’d be going to California soon as mom got better. Guess they knew better than I did.”

Obi-Wan has never wanted to kidnap a grown man away from a place more, so he hides his hands under the table instead. “Would you tell me your name then?” he asks, wondering if he’s overstepping but needing to know too much to censor himself.

“It’s Anakin,” his waiter says, sticking his hand out, no menu to grab.

Obi-Wan takes it gently, turns it over, and cradles it between both of his hands. “Then it’s nice to meet you, Anakin.”

Maybe, he thinks as he picks at his omelette and watches Anakin shoulder his way through the front doors of the diner before disappearing down the street, maybe he can stay a day in this nowhere town. Just an extra day.

Yes, he thinks, taking a sip of his water. He’ll try the pancakes next.

[unsaidholland]

we’ll be alright | h. holland

surprise?

was this inspired by still by niall horan? yes, yes it was. stream heartbreak weather.

warnings: sad (we been knew)

somehow everything had gotten out of control. it was as if they were trying to guide a tornado into a mason jar. everything was destroyed, broken, and neither of them were seeing eye to eye anymore. nothing would ever be the same to them, not as she and harry were on the verge of breaking up. 

there was nothing left to salvage but broken bits and pieces of a love that was once so strong and immensely passionate. maybe it was broken to begin with, a small hairline fracture being the only damage they started with, but it didn’t erase the ending. it killed the both of them to endure this fighting. the living room had turned into a warzone, and there was no ceasefire being called. there was just the two of them, on opposite sides, both physically and in battle. they were both too full of pride to apologize, but they still wanted things to end happily.

harry couldn’t believe how angry the two of them had become and how quickly everything had escalated. they were so far away from how tranquil the relationship was, so far away from the beginning. they were getting closer to the end, and both of them knew it was coming. though, neither of them wanted to escape from the pain they were inflicting on each other. 

“it’s like nothing i do even matters to you anymore,” she said, voice shaking from the tears threatening to spill. she didn’t even know what they were fighting about anymore, and neither did he, but neither of them wanted to admit that maybe they both were overreacting, that maybe they miscalculated each others’ words. 

“of course everything you do matters to me,” harry responded. he didn’t even know what the argument was going to leave him with, but he was hoping that he’d be left with something. 

they went back and forth for hours, only giving up when they both decided they were tired. the one-bedroom apartment felt much smaller, no escape from the arguments, but with harry set to sleep in the large queen-sized bed, while she was laying on the grey couch, it felt like they were miles and miles apart. it felt like they were only getting further and further away from their destination, taking every wrong turn, leading them to the middle of nowhere.

harry’s eyes wandered across the ceiling, trying to rearrange the thoughts flowing through his mind. he wondered how he was going to make it up to her. sure it was going to be difficult, but he would find a way - he always found a way. 

as harry was searching through his mind for ideas of how he was going to make it up to y/n, she was sat on the couch gazing out of the window. the midnight sky was dark and cloudless, allowing the stars to shine. she couldn’t help but notice that the stars weren’t shining as bright as they used to, maybe it was the argument bringing her mood down, or maybe they never shone as bright as she remembered. with the white sherpa blanket covering her legs, and her elbows resting along the back of the grey couch, y/n continued to wonder what she and harry had turned into. it seemed as if they were constantly fighting. maybe the house they had built was made of paper, so fragile that it was never supposed to last, or maybe they were destroying everything from the inside out. y/n couldn’t figure it out, and she supposed she wouldn’t ever figure it out. 

y/n wanted so desperately for them to just go back to the basics, he loved her, and she loved him. she wanted to rid their relationship of the complications of travelling for work, their schedules, and how they just didn’t align anymore. if they loved each other, then why were they constantly fighting? y/n stayed up until the twilight adorned the sky once again as it did every morning, and she got no sleep, too stressed about what she and harry were turning into.

•••

harry woke up midday. the sun was well up at the apex of the sky, and harry’s brown eyes adjusted to the light that was shining into his bedroom through the sheer white curtains. he rubbed his eyes, blinded by the light, and immediately realized the first step he needed to take to make it up to y/n was making her food. he knew it was the key to getting time to just sit with her and spend time with her, so as soon as he was awake enough, he strolled to the kitchen and got the ingredients out for their meal. though it was midday, harry knew she would want breakfast food, so he got out their waffle maker and began on the batter.

their meal was almost done when harry realized that she would’ve wanted tea to go along with it, so he boiled water in the kettle, and making her the tea that y/n saved for special occasions. she loved tea, and their cupboards were filled with different brands and flavours, many unopened. she collected them for when she wanted to spice things up, but in this case, harry knew y/n would need something to cheer her up. 

he set the dining table up so they were sitting across from one another, hoping that y/n would want to have a meal with him and pretend they were okay. maybe if they pretended hard enough, it wouldn’t feel fake and they would go back to normal. 

as harry placed the cups of tea down in front of their respective place settings, he looked over to where his girlfriend was sleeping, just meters away from where he was standing, but he still felt so far away from her. how did they get there in the first place? how did they leave each other stranded on separate deserted islands, left with nothing but their love the want for each other. to harry, y/n felt so out of reach and the good parts of the relationship too felt out of reach. he wanted to get back there, but he just didn’t know how. 

y/n looked at peace as she slept, and it was one of the first times harry had seen her so calm, but he also couldn’t help but notice the tear stains that adorned her cheeks. the copper, curly-haired boy couldn’t help but notice the guilt that was running through his veins. she was so calm when she didn’t notice he was around. he hoped that she was dreaming of him. harry hoped she was dreaming of the house they wanted to buy, the dog they wanted to adopt, and the life they wanted to have - but they couldn’t have that life, and harry was no stranger to that realization. in admitting that, he realized they had to have that conversation. the conversation that could either rebuild everything or destroy it further. harry hoped that the latter was just an option and not their fate, and he said a quick prayer to whoever was above that he wouldn’t lose the best person to have ever entered his life.

harry was blessed with so many opportunities. getting to travel around the world for his work, and always being away from the place he called home was one of the reasons the relationship had began to crumble in the first place, and he knew that. he just couldn’t give up his home. he knew that home wasn’t supposed to be a person, but a place where you could truly be yourself, but harry couldn’t help feeling at home wherever he was so long as he was with you. 

he began to wake her up, thumb caressing her cheeks. harry watched as her eyes began to flutter open, the confused expression painting her face.

“it’s half past noon, but i made us breakfast,” he whispered for her to hear, a hopeful smile appearing on his face. she nodded and sat up. harry sat next to her, wanting to hug her, but not knowing how y/n would feel about that.

“what’d you make?” she asked as she pulled the blanket closer to her body as if it was her final layer of protection against him. the ceasefire had been called, but for all y/n knew, they were still both at war, and she wasn’t planning on taking any chances.

“made us waffles, put some fruit on the side the way you like it, and then i also made bacon and tea.” he was quick to add, “ i made you the special one you always save for special occasions because i know you would’ve wanted it if i didn’t make it.” a soft smile appeared on y/n’s face, the small gesture already seeming to make her feel better.

“well come on then.” she got up and began to make her way to the kitchen table, harry following behind her. 

•••

by the time they had finished their meal, they were just sat in silence. neither of them wanted to break the calm moment they were just having, but harry just couldn’t help but ask, “where is our relationship going?”

after breaking the silence he wanted to take his words back, erase the fact that those godforsaken words had ever left his mouth. while he was tearing himself apart over his brief action, y/n was contemplating where their relationship was going. that was the only thing running through her mind through the early morning as the sun was rising, but she never found a clear destination. neither of them knew where they were going, it was as if the windows were rolled down, and the map had flown out. thought they wanted a happy destination where all that mattered was each other, it seemed the car was taking them somewhere that was quite the opposite. the relationship juxtaposed their desires, and they didn’t know how to make the two align again.

“i don’t know,” y/n mumbled quietly, pulling the sleeves down her hands so her fingertips were just peeking out, her yellow painted nails contrasting against the purple jumper she was wearing. the anxiety flowed through her veins as she was wondering where this conversation was heading. she was sick of all the yelling and screaming that constantly occurred between the two of them, she wanted it all to stop, but y/n didn’t want to lose him. 

harry couldn’t help but sense the anxiety flowing through the both of them, so he reached across the table to grab her hand, silently letting y/n know it would be okay in the end, but he wasn’t just comforting her. the longer they sat there, the eerier the silence became. the unknown became more and more frightening to them, and they just didn’t want to lose everything. they had a feeling that they were soulmates, and they couldn’t bear to lose each other.

the minutes passed and turned into an hour of them sitting in silence, both trying to organize their thoughts and figure out what to do. the conversation had taken a pause, both of them knew that, but it was better than them yelling at one another and getting nowhere. this was progress, and harry was starting to be glad he had let those words leave his mouth. he was hoping his mood wouldn’t change. on the other hand, y/n sat on the other side of the table fearing the worst. she was terrified that the conversation would end with them breaking up, and she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes from just thinking about it. harry couldn’t ignore the tears that were threatening to spill down y/n’s cheeks, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it. what was he supposed to do when he didn’t even know where they were heading?

they sat at the kitchen table all afternoon. the sun had begun to set when y/n decided to make herself busy by collecting the dirty plates and cutlery and started to do the dishes. harry followed suit and began to wipe down the table and the countertops, hoping that this distraction would help them figure out how to fix themselves. 

•••

y/n watches as the suds swirl off the white porcelain plates and down the drain. too distracted by the thought of her and harry breaking up, she just swirled the plate around, making the water reach all edges of it. how were they supposed to fix whatever was going on when they couldn’t figure out the problem?

“should we break up?” she asked herself. y/n didn’t expect the words to come out, and truthfully, she was praying that they were just mumbled so harry couldn’t hear them, except he did.

“what?” he responded. y/n knew he was baffled that she would ever ask something like that, and she was as well. her mind was running marathons trying to figure out the right answer to their situation. though she was terrified of what harry was going to say or do next, she found the courage to look at him. all she saw was fear running through harry’s body, and she was no stranger to that fear. y/n could feel that they were terrified for the same reason - letting go - but she wanted to do anything before she had to let go of him.

“i don’t want to break up, but what if it’s the only thing that’s going to salvage this relationship? i’d rather break up now while i still love you than break up hating you.” it was a touchy subject for the both of them, but who really wanted to break up with their partner that they were still so madly in love with? maybe it was the right decision, but she couldn’t tell, blinded by how complete she felt with him.

y/n looked out the window only to notice that the twilight had left the sky and the stars were shining yet again. she hoped that the events from the previous night wouldn’t repeat, but as she focused on how bright the stars were shining, she didn’t see a difference. 

“be honest with me,” she paused to look back at harry. looking into his brown eyes for some sort of sign that things would get better. “do you think the fighting is going to get better?” she hoped that he would say yes. she hoped that he would say he would do anything for things to get better, but part of her just wanted an end to the fighting, whatever that looked like, she just wanted the fighting to stop. she couldn’t take it anymore. she hated crying almost every day, she hated being so far away from him, but she mostly hated how they were together without seeing eye to eye anymore.

“you want me to tell you the truth?” harry asked, y/n just nodded, scared of what he was going to say. “i am still so madly in love with you, and it scares me because i don’t know what i’d do if we broke up.” she looked away from him, too scared of what was to come next. he cupped her face, making her look up at him, and for the first time in a long time, she had never felt such pure love from harry. “everything is going to be alright, we’ll be alright because we love each other darling,” he said softly, staring into her eyes.

“i love you haz,” y/n murmured, scared that if she spoke any louder, the tranquil moment between them would break.

“i always love you even when we fight, you know that right?” harry asked, his hands slipping down to her waist, holding her against him. his hands on her waist sent sparks up her spine and she felt the passion that they held for each other all over her body. 

y/n rested her head against harry’s broad chest, eyes closed to fully savour the moment. she memorized the way he felt against her, the weight of his hands resting on her body, and the way he smelled. y/n memorized the way it felt when his thumb would rub circles onto her hip, never able to ever stay still, and as she opened her eyes to look up at him, she memorized the soft smile that appeared on his face as he looked down at her. she was terrified that this would be the last good moment they would ever have, the last moment that was argument-free, the last moment where they weren’t yelling at each other or ignoring each other. 

harry leaned down to kiss the top of y/n’s head, and as he pulled away, she pulled his head back towards hers, capturing his lips with her own. the feeling of his soft lips against her own slightly chapped ones felt like home to her. he was where she belonged, and the kiss only reminded her of what home once felt like. 

•••

later that night, harry and y/n were laying in bed together watching a movie on netflix. the feeling of her in his arms without any ill-feelings between the two of them felt brand new to him, and he didn’t want to ever forget how perfectly she fit in his arms. his brown eyes stared at her arm resting against his abdomen, and he wished that he could take a picture of the moment to keep it to memory forever. he knew that one day these little memories would be overwritten and wouldn’t last forever, but he was hoping that there would be more memories like this for him to keep.

y/n had quickly fallen asleep on harry’s chest and he was quick to notice her change in breathing. 

“i genuinely don’t know what i would do if i’d lose you,” harry said quietly, speaking mostly to himself and not to his girlfriend laying partially on him. he continued to ramble, “it always kills me whenever we fight, you know that?” he pushed some hair out of her face and watched as she furrowed her brows at whatever was happening in her dream, y/n’s face then relaxing to one that was so peaceful.

“i was telling you the truth earlier when i told you i still loved you despite all the arguments we’ve had. i’m still madly in love with you even when i’m mad at you.” harry knew she wouldn’t hear him, but he still liked talking to her, despite her being asleep.

that night harry realized they had quickly gone back to the basics, to their love being the only thing that mattered, but harry knew in just a few months he would have to leave again, and he was terrified. he loved his job, but he knew that y/n hated being away from him. she was his home, and he had a feeling that to her, he was her home, but he needed to go on this press tour with tom. maybe he could bring her along, travel the world with her while working. harry was quick to push that thought aside, remembering that whatever ends up happening, it would be alright. 

“whatever happens, we’ll be alright,” y/n murmured in her sleep and harry smiled. somehow, she knew what to say even if she was asleep.

-

anything and everything taglist: @hollanderfangirl​ @hxrryhxlland​ @ohmy-moonlightx​ @musicalkeys​ @notsosmexy @writertoo18​ @icyhollands​ @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh​

harry holland taglist: @euphorichxlland

[ibithesnail]

when he was saying “fu-” in his latest vlog for bad to finish with “-ck” i lowkey heard that as “fa-”

now i’m watching bacon’s upload and he said “i hate their guts” (completely normal thing to say) and i (for some godforsaken reason) heard it as “i hate them ‘ggots” (why would he have said that about mapic and jepex even. they’re so straight)

i can’t stop thinking about that time tommy said half the f slur

[you-cant-spell-subtext-without]

Ok so I am 40 years old, have never watched an actual entire episode of Supernatural but around the time of the Confession I somehow got sucked into destiel fan fiction and then Cockles happened to me somehow and I have not read an Actual Book in months and for some reason feel very fond and protective over some weird dude that takes pictures next to people wearing bacon??? And I have NO IDEA WHAT IS HAPPENING AT ANY GIVEN TIME PLEASE HELP

welcome to super-hell.

I'll raise you that I am 35, have watched every single episode of Supernatural unfortunately multiple times in the space of 3? months last year, (pre confession right when the second half of s 15 was about to air) post confession I fell into the fandom sinkhole and have now written over? 200k? words of said destiel fan fiction and idk how much meta about this godforsaken show (this does not include my parasocial poetry about one dmitri krushnic and weird jensen blogposts)

I have no idea what my life has become all I do is whatever the weird dude who takes pictures next to people wearing bacon tells me to do. also, fond of him as well. will protect him with you at all costs etc.

also reading is reading, if you have read fic consider you have read multiple Actual Books :D some fic out there is better than the crap that's actually published floating around my kindle ads.

And finally - Cockles happens to everyone somehow, you're not alone.

Everything is fine (meme of dog in burning room dot jpeg <3)

happy to provide emotional support. sending hugs and kale.

[introvert-no-chameleon]

Chapter 2: Monstrous Consequences

I almost forgot to put the text version on Tumblr! 

Here’s chapter 2 of Of Monsters and McGuckets. The next chapter will probably be a big one, since I have a better idea where the story is going now, so it might take longer than just a couple of days for me to write and edit. 

Don’t worry, folks. I fully plan on seeing this fic through. 

Chapter 1 on Tumblr, if you don’t use/like Archive of Our Own.

Fiddleford usually made a point to ignore the way the Pines brothers acted on the rare occasions where they all shared a meal, despite the offense it was to his Southern upbringing. His Ma would’ve slapped him across the head if he didn’t chew with his mouth closed or say grace before every meal (a habit he kept even long after he stopped going to church).

He’d hate to imagine what she’d do if he ever ate like his two housemates. Stanley paid as much mind to table manners as he did the law, which was none. Sometimes he’d chew with his mouth open just to tick Fiddleford off, and even go as far as putting his muddy boots on the table if he really wanted to get a rise out of his boyfriend. On the other end of the spectrum sat Stanford, who either inhaled his food in a hurry to get back to his research or left it on his plate until it got too cold to eat while he made field notes.

Yet even those memories were not nearly as bad as the scene unfolding in front of him. Stanford had his paws splayed on the table, his face shoved on to his plate. Egg and grease smeared all over his mouth, and Stanford didn’t seem to notice. The silverware lay unused next to Stanford’s plate, jingling whenever he shifted to get a better angle.

Fiddleford held the edge of the table in a death grip to prevent his employer from tipping it over, and only for that reason. It certainly wasn’t because he was getting very uncomfortable staring at those large, powerful jaws rip into his bacon with a growl, while he held it in place with one paw, like a lion would, he imagined, tear into a dead gazelle. Nor did it have anything to do with the earlier, far too casual comment about Stanford wanting to maul things.

Not at all. If Fiddleford happened to take a big gulp of coffee that felt like tar coming down his throat, that was just because of something else.

He took a chance to see how Stanley was doing. His boyfriend poked at his food with the edge of a claw, and Fiddleford wondered if he could even eat, or if he needed to in this form. Just as he meant to ask, Stan chewed his bacon, shrugged, tipped the contents inside his mouth, and swallowed his entire breakfast and the ceramic plate with a loud crunch. And burped afterward.

Fiddleford quietly sipped the rest of his coffee for the remainder of the meal and made a note to avoid eating with them until they got turned back to normal.

After the ordeal that was breakfast, they finally began retracing their steps to the lake. The woods in Gravity Falls managed to have an underlying, buzzing energy to it. It felt as if everything, even the trees themselves, were teeming with life, a fact that used to fill Fiddleford with wonderment. However, as he became aware of the fact that not everything in the forest was as keen as respecting sentient life as he was, that excitement got replaced by the kind of dread that settled heavy on his shoulders and wouldn't be shaken off until he was back in the safety of their home.

Stanford was excitedly talking about the notes he’d just made as they walked. Even with his ever-present anxiety, Fiddleford still found himself listening to what little they knew of their most recent discovery.

“I’ve decided to call the mysterious liquid in the lake Fluvius Cantatis,” said Stanford, ducking under a branch. “Judging by the fact that I saw a few deer drink from the lake and suffer no outward symptoms, I’m guessing the water only affects humans.”

Stanley walked right through the branch, snapping it by just walking into it. The man didn’t flinch. Heck, Fiddleford would be surprised if he’d noticed it.

“That’s mighty interestin’,” said Fiddleford. “Perhaps the water’s been enchanted? Or…cursed?” He shuddered at the thought. If exploring Gravity Falls had taught him anything, it was that curses were stubborn, tricky things that weren’t dealt with so easily.

“Both are a possibility,” said Stanford, nonplussed. “If it was, indeed, enchanted, then there’s a good chance that we may be able to figure it out with some study. I’ve learned a few spells from the walls of that cavern we explored while finding Mothman, so it may help us get back to normal.”

“I sure hope so,” said Fiddleford. “There ain’t no tellin’ what might happen if ya stay like this too long.”

“Yeah, like how I’m going to use the toilet when I’m a giant rock,” said Stanley with a smirk.

Stanford rolled his eyes and continued forward.

“Don’t be crude, Stanley,” said Fiddleford.

The gargoyle shrugged. “Just tryin’ to lighten the mood.” He noticed Fiddleford adjust his backpack for the third time in the last minute. “You, uh, need help there, Fidds?”

“If yer careful,” he said, placing the heavy bag on the ground. Now that he was free of the weight, his shoulders began to ache something awful. Fiddleford cracked his back as he straightened up, groaning. For the fourth time that week, he thought about finally getting around to making that appointment with the town chiropractor.

“Jeez, what’re you carrying in this thing?” Stanley picked up the pack and flipped the top open.

Inside were two pairs of thick rubber gloves, a few beakers wrapped in bubble wrap, metal tongues, a thermometer, glass jars with lids and an entire hazmat suit that Stanley had “borrowed” from some godforsaken government facility one night he and Stanford had gotten while drunk out of their minds. (Those were the only details he'd been given in regards to what went down that night, and after careful consideration, Fiddleford decided that it was probably for the best that it stayed that way).

Stanley raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “A bit much, dontcha think?”

Fiddleford huffed. “One of us has to be careful. That lake don’t sit right with me, an’ it’s better if one of us isn’t affected by whatever yer afflictions are.”

Stanley swung the backpack over one shoulder.  “Relax, I’m pretty sure ya gotta bathe in this stuff for it to do anything. Me an’ Ford jumped right into it.”

“We don’t know that,” said Fiddleford. “An’ I don’t want to take any chances.”

Stanley cast a glance at his brother, who was walking ahead of them, focusing on re-discovering the path they’d went on yesterday. He put a hand on Fiddleford’s shoulder. Even with Stanley being as gentle as could be, the weight of his hand felt crushing. He sucked in a breath.

“Sorry! Shit, I didn’t mean—”

“I-it’s okay. Yer just stronger than usual, s’all.”

Stanley’s joints made a grinding sound as he retracted his hand and let it fall by his side. He cleared his throat. “Look, I’m right here whatever happens, alright? And uh,” He cleared his throat. “If Ford gets carried away, just let me know and I’ll wrestle him back to the shack with us if I haveta.”

“I-I may frighten easy, but there’s no need to be tip-toeing around me as if I’m some sorta newborn kitten.” He forced himself to fake what he’d hoped looked like a reassuring smile.

Stanley frowned, and Fiddleford didn’t need a magic spell to know that the man disagreed. “Look, Fidds. I guess we haven’t really talked about this, an’ this might not be the best place to have this conversation, but…I can’t help but notice you’ve been more on edge lately.”

The way he said those things made the Southern man bristle. He crossed his arms. “I don’t follow.” Fiddleford’s tone was about as inviting as a grizzly bear in a picnic. “Whatever happened to me bein’ more assertive?”

“Hey, I meant that. But…” Stan rubbed the back of his neck. The friction made a grinding sound that only served to worsen Fiddleford’s nerves. “Fidds. Come on. You jump outta your seat if you so much as see a gnome—”

“Those little devils kidnapped me, if ya haven’t forgotten!”

Stanley winced, probably remembering the “Gnome Incident”, as they all called it. It was a sore subject for Fiddleford. Not only did he get mistaken for a woman, but he also ended up getting dragged halfway through the forest by an army of small but astonishingly strong men while tied up like a hog. When Stanley and Stanford came to help after at least a half-hour of humiliation, they’d gotten so many bite marks and bruises from the whole rescue mission that they’d almost considered going to the hospital. The remaining shred of their dignities had been the only reason they hadn’t.

As if that all hadn’t been bad enough, the ropes had left some nasty cuts on Fiddleford’s wrists and ankles. It took weeks for them to heal, and to this day Stanley would still punt away any gnomes that were unfortunate enough to be in Fiddleford’s vicinity.

“Yeah, that’s my point. You’ve just been more jumpy, and…” Stanley seemed to be struggling to get the words out of his mouth. He was squirming where he stood.

In other circumstances, Fiddleford wouldn’t have given him such a hard time. Stan was being more open with his emotions, and that wasn’t easy for him. The young scientist just wished it hadn’t been this particular subject he’d decided to be open about. “An’ what?”

“Look, I’m getting’ kinda worried. You looked like you were about to have a heart attack this mornin’ when we came to the shack.”

Fiddleford set his jaw. “Is that what this mornin’ was? Ya thought that I’d still have my tail stuck between mah legs even after I knew it was you?” He hadn’t expected his anxiety to be so obvious, and now that he knew it was, it was like having someone tear his clothes off in the middle of the town. “Well, excuse me for exercisin’ some caution!”

Stan raised his hands at him, defensively. “Hey, that ain’t what I meant.”

Fiddleford squared his shoulders. “You think that just ‘cause I’m not as well-adjusted to this town’s strangeness as the two of ya, I should just stay inside and have my nose in a book or tinkerin’ away while ya and yer brother do all the dangerous work!”

In actuality, the thought of him doing just that appealed to him greatly, but he wasn’t about to admit that. “I’ll have ya know, I’m an inventor! I’ve made things that could fry a man in two flicks of a lamb’s tail!”

Stanley’s brows furrowed. “I have…no idea what that means.”

“It means, Stanley, that I ain’t some dainty thing that ya need to protect. I’m a grown man with a son of mine own, and I’m more than capable of lookin’ after myself!”

“Fidds, come on! Don’t be like that!”

But Fiddleford had stomped past Stanley, keeping his gaze straight ahead. He caught up with Stanford, who had just came across a couple of bushes that Fiddleford assumed concealed the entrance to the lake.

“Ah, perfect,” said Stanford, blissfully unaware of the tension between Fiddleford and Stanley (business as usual, then). “It’s right past here. Allow Stanley and I to go first. After all, we have already been exposed, and there’s—”

That was it. Fiddleford walked ahead, ignoring whatever was about to come out of Stanford’s mouth. Which was not, he quickly realized, an intelligent thing to do, as his next step sent him sliding down a steep dirt slope that had no business being there.

The twins called his name somewhere behind him, but it was too late. He was tumbling down, the world a blur of browns and greens. He inhaled some dirt and coughed in a vain attempt to clear his burning lungs. Just as he thought he’d be doing this forever, he splashed into a body of knee-deep water and stopped moving.

And now there he was, on his hands and knees, looking like a right fool, in front of his boss and boyfriend, no less. He sighed, bringing a shaky hand to his face, staring down at his reflection. The water had a strange purple hue. Wasn’t that just his luck that he wiped his face with water that had probably been contaminated or—

“Oh,” he said, staring at his palms. The skin began to tingle, glowing with a soft purple light. “Shit.”

A headache that felt as if the Devil Himself had just driven spikes into Fiddleford’s head had him doubling over. The pain was strongest on the left and right sides of his skull. His legs ached, and his feet felt numb. He watched with detached, morbid fascination as they broke through his shoes and got longer, until he was staring, slack-jawed at a set of rabbit feet. He wiggled the toes, his brain still struggling to process his new, horrifying reality.

The entire bottom half of him was part hare, tufts of chestnut brown fur poking out of the waistline of his now torn-up pants. He tried standing up, gasping as his head swung back, heavier than he’d ever remembered it being. He quickly held it in place with his (thank goodness!) human hands. Licking his lips, he brought his hands up to the top of his head. His fingers caressed what felt an awful lot like two large antlers, and a pair of rabbit ears.

A jackalope. He was a jackalope.

Of all the things, of all the mythological creatures in all of existence, he was a goddamn hare with antlers, because life had decided that Fiddleford McGucket hadn’t suffered enough today. The only solace he found was the fact that his face was still human, if the reflection of the lake was anything to go by, which was at least something. He’d probably drown himself right then and there if he had a rabbit nose or some other nonsense like that.

Fiddleford dragged himself out of the lake. The water didn’t drip or fall off his skin. Instead, his body seemed to absorb it. That wasn’t worrying at all.

“Fidds, are you okay? Shit, hold on, I’m almost there!”

Stanley skid down the slope and ran towards him. His wings were raised off the ground so he could run without tripping over them, and his eyes glowed more intensely than he’d seen them yet. Stanford wasn’t far behind, his wings occasionally flapping to help him keep his balance.

The usual sense of relief he’d get whenever Stanley came to his aid was, to his increasing concern, being overrun by something else. It was like somebody had flipped a switch inside of him, activating a strong, fight-or-flight instinct that Fiddleford couldn’t ignore even if he wanted to.

Suddenly, his mind didn’t see Stanley Pines, his beloved partner, and Stanford Pines, his good friend and employer. All he could take in were teeth and jaws and claws that could gut a creature like himself in seconds. This new instinct was worse than any panic attack he’d ever had, his throat tightening, his breathing labored, his head throbbing, seemingly taking over his own body, which began to move as if on its own accord.

He ran back in the woods, getting as far away from Stanley as his legs would carry him, which turned out to be incredibly far, incredibly fast. His heart thumped against his chest as he kept moving forward, crashing through bushes, any coherent thought was far gone, replaced with the need to get away now.

Had he been in his right mind, he’d have noticed Stanley’s big, heartbroken eyes on his back until he was out of sight, swallowed up by Gravity Falls’ forest.

*

Stanford caught up to Stanley just as the latter watched his boyfriend run into the forest at a pace that would almost put Stan’s car to shame. He’d barely seen what Fiddleford had turned into after falling into the lake, but whatever it was looked like some weird bunny-thing that probably had little to no way to defend itself. Well, he guessed running like hell was a damn good way to defend oneself. Couldn’t argue with the results.

“Great.” Stanley held his head. “Just fuckin’ peachy.”

“That could have gone better,” said Stanford.

“You decide to become Captain Obvious today or somethin’?” snapped Stanley. He gestured towards the direction Fiddleford went. “How the fuck are we gonna find him?”

“Calm down, Stan. I have a plan.” Ford pushed his glasses up his nose. “Do you remember those microchips that Fiddleford made?”

Stanley stared at his brother as if he’d just started speaking another language. “Sixer, this ain’t time for your nerd talk, Fidds could get eaten by a mountain lion or bear if we don’t do somethin’!”

Ford glared at him. “This is why I’m bringing it up. Fiddleford it to help us track each other in the case that one of us gets abducted again.” Ford rummaged through the knapsack he always brought with him and pulled out a clunky metal remote with a glass screen. He turned it on. “Aha!”

“What?”

“It’s working magnificently! Fiddleford will be pleased to know that the remote has no problems picking up his signal.”

Stan loved his brother, he really did, but it was shit like his brother managing to be excited about some science gizmo while his friend was hopping around the woods in a panic that really tested his patience. “Yeah, I’m sure he’d also love to be alive to talk about it, so why don’t ya shut yer yap for five seconds so we can get him?”

Ford huffed. He stared back down at the screen. “He’s going towards the middle of the forest, so at least he isn’t near any caves.” He stopped talking, eyes widening. “We need to move. He’s coming across Manotaur territory.”

Stanley swore. “Then let’s go already!”

“Stan, you’re slower like this. You should let me—”

“Oh, hell no, Pointdexter. I’m not waitin’ here while you go off after him. He’s gonna freak out if he sees you alone.”

Ford opened his mouth, saw the expression that Stan had on his face, and let whatever stupid thing he was going to tell Stan, die. “Fine but try not to lose me. I’m going to have to…” He sighed. “Run on four legs.”

Even in his state of mind, Stanley couldn’t resist grinning. “Maybe this situation isn’t all bad.”

Ford took off his boot and threw it at his brother. It bounced off him. Stan didn’t even feel it.

“Fiddleford better be grateful for this,” muttered Ford as he freed himself of his other shoe and began to—there was no other word for it—gallop in the direction Fiddleford went.

Filing the mental image of his brother running around like a giant housecat for later, Stan lumbered behind him. He was determined to keep up, not wanting to waste more time.

[feelswrvng2020]

                 based on this !!! 

A familiar face was always a sight, specially when it just so happened to be a pretty one. When Kolbe recognized patrons it usually translated to larger tips but, in this particular case, he was merely happy. They were generally nice, easy to serve. He couldn’t recall their presence ever bringing any trouble to his bar. Not thus far. But when they insisted the drinks should keep coming, he knew something was off. There’d been whispers about cheating and assholes. He should have cut them off sooner than he did and, so, when closing time came around, he had a regular costumer passed out on his counter. He could have carried them upstairs, to the flat he shared with no one but his dog - who was currently at his mother’s, but that might be... weird. His only choice was to take them home; theirs. 

That was how the young bar owner found himself dragging dead weight throughout the streets, eventually recognizing their address and helping them open the door. But as they stumbled down, he thought best ensure they made their way to bed - even in their smelly clothes and then, for some godforsaken reason, he decided to crash on the couch. 

As morning dawned, Kolbe took over the other’s kitchen, working with whatever they had in their fridge. He successfully managed some french toast, pancakes, eggs of every sort and bacon. By the time they were no longer alone, all he was missing was coffee. “Ah, look who joined the land of the living,” he teased lightly. “I bet you’ve got a killer hangover,” he deducted, already gesturing towards the water and aspirin. “I take it you slept like the dead.” @deadromantcs​

[ksfd89]

Jess Mariano’s One Man Show

Quick oneshot set during S3, as we didn't get enough cute moments between Rory and Jess!

This is not happening. Jess blinks and stares around the studio again in disbelief, refusing to accept that he's spending his Saturday night at Miss Patty's School of Dance. He's still clinging to the hope that this is some kind of hallucination brought on by eating the bacon that was sitting out too long.

"Smile! I want big smiles, right now!"

Like everyone in this godforsaken town doesn't have a crazy smile permanently on their face anyway. It's as if every neighbour is Pennywise! Of all the crazy shindigs this town could come up with, this one takes the cake. Jess was just walking along, head in book, half-reading, half-thinking about what food to order for movie night with Rory, when Miss Patty was grabbing his arm and some story was being babbled in his ear about Kirk getting stuck on a rafter. Jess actually allowed himself to be taken to the studio, more out of curiosity than real concern, and the next thing he knew the door was slammed shut and Kirk was blocking it. Jess had turned around to see a crowd of other townsfolk muttering amongst themselves and Miss Patty strolled up to the stage, a dangerous beam on her face.

"Welcome to the show, ladies and gentlemen!"

"I swear," Jess mumbled to Kirk, "after this you'll be in the rafters for real, and no one's going to rescue you."

"Oh, I'm used to that," Kirk said cheerfully and, before Jess could retaliate, Miss Patty called for volunteers which was how Jess found himself on the stage with a few other victims after Kirk had shoved him in the back. No one, Jess wasn't surprised to see, had volunteered for real, and as he looked across the audience his eyes landed on Rory. He stared at her and she looked as though she was trying not to giggle. As if there's something funny about this! And Jess thought the main struggle of the evening would be convincing her not to order from Sandeep's. The only saving grace is that Luke and Lorelai aren't here. Jess catches himself checking again, just to make sure. The jokes from either of them are more he can bear.

"I'm arranging a summer concert," Miss Patty tells them all, "and I need you dollfaces to try out a few numbers. Of course, I'll be the main event, but I need backup. Now, don't look so concerned - there's costumes in the back and a box right here!"

Costumes? No way. This is worse than being beaked by the swan! Rory isn't even trying to pretend not to laugh now and Jess remarks, "Hey, aren't you going to support me?"

"I can support you right here," Rory giggles and shakes her head as Jess asks, "You can't support me from the stage?"

"Not unless you want the audience's ears to bleed - I can't sing."

"I can vouch for that. Her singing is flatter than my first boyfriend's mattress," Miss Patty says seriously, which Jess doesn't need elaborating on.

"Fine, fine you can't sing. But -"

"You know I can't dance! Years of ballet lessons and I still stunk!"

"What about the dance marathon?"

"That was different!"

"Right," Jess sulks. "And what makes you think I'm Fred Astaire?"

"It's funny. Plus, there's your dazzling good looks," Rory remarks and Jess can't help smiling a little in a spite of himself. She's definitely not ordering from Sandeep's after this though.

Miss Patty starts tinkling a tune on the piano, stopping to rummage through the box and throw things at the 'volunteers'.

"I thought we'd start with This Little Light of Mine, as the concert's about the town of Stars Hollow and we're all little stars! Well," Patty amends with a chuckle, "I'm a big star, but this one's not about me."

Jess feels his mirth trickle away as the townsfolk start pawing through feather boas and sequin vests. Suddenly, he recalls a play he did in Kindergarten where he played a sheep. Liz was supposed to be there and Jess was so excited he couldn't eat lunch fast enough, even if his costume was more threadbare than wool. Then the play started, and Liz wasn't there, and Jess couldn't think of his line. Someone laughed, Jess remembered - baa! - and as he opened his mouth to say it his entire lunch came up instead. That was the end of any form of acting career.

"I'm not putting on some costume," Jess says and Patty purses his lips. "No way."

"It's for the show!"

"I don't give a damn!"

Everyone stops and when Jess looks back at Rory she's biting her lip, looking concerned rather than amused now. He looks desperately at her and forces his glance back.

"I'll sing for...whatever the hell this is," he forces himself to say. "But just..."

"Alright, alright," Patty says and Jess lets out a sigh of relief. "But you'd better give a good performance!"

She sits back at the piano, starting to play, and Jess can see the audience still whispering. A spark of defiance flies up. They want a performance? He'll give them a performance!

Jess waits for everyone to start singing, gradually opening his mouth and joining in and sticks his hands in his pockets. As he joins the chorus he brings out a lighter, flaring it on the word shine. Laughter and whispers start spreading across the room and Rory is shaking her head, but smiling as well. Encouraged, Jess carries on, lifting up the lighter and swaying a little.

Finally, Kirk looks over and shouts, "Fire hazard! I'm on it, Patty!" Ungainly, he jumps onto the stage, falling onto the mostly-empty box of costumes and over the room's laughter Patty exclaims, "Oh, get up Kirk! And you -" she says sternly to Jess "we've all had enough of your hooligan ways!"

Jess almost bursts out laughing. Hooligan ways? Jeez, have these people never been beyond their backyard? They should come to New York if it want to see real hooliganism. Controlling himself, Jess shrugs and says, "Just trying to add a little something to the show."

"Thank you, there'll be sparklers," Patty says and Jess practically strains himself holding in laughter.

"And those are much safer than my lighter," he says seriously and, ignoring him, Patty starts to go back to her piano.

"Okay, everyone, I think we're done with that show. Time for variety hour!"

Variety hour, huh? Either inspiration or stupidity seizes Jess and without thinking he snatches up a spare pair of sunglasses, unpops two buttons on his shirt and grabs a sequinned feather boa before loudly breaking into some Bowie.

"I'm back on Suffragette City! Wham bam, thank you ma'am!"

Loud shouts and whoops echo around the room as Jess runs down from the stage and jumps around the room, the boa swinging wildly and the sunglasses slipping down his face. Pressing them back up, he sparks the lighter up again to add a little edge, or whatever you want to call it. Patty is staring, for once struck dumb, and with a great leap Jess jumps back on the stage and finishes the chorus, "Oh, my Suffragette City, oh my Suffragette City! Suffragette!"

To really make their eyes pop, Jess gets out a cigarette. He's mostly given them up but still has a spare in his pocket. He lifts it, pretending to light it and ceases as he sees Patty glare, shoving it back in his pocket. Picking up a random tennis racket off the floor, Jess strums on it as his guitar and whistles the final bar before singing once more, "Suffragette!" There's a shocked silence and then spattered applause starts and Rory gets up in her seat, cheering. Jess takes a wide bow, dropping the tennis racket, and tips an imaginary hat.

"Encore!" Rory calls, laughing so hard she can hardly get the words out. "Encore for Jess Mariano's one man show!"

"There will be no encore, Rory Gilmore!" Patty says sharply. "I think Mr Mariano is finished here for the night!"

"Would you say I had a little talent?" Jess asks, panting a little as he catches his breath.

"I could see you on Broadway," Patty allows and Jess thinks he maybe sees some amusement in her eye. "But not necessarily on the stage."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Jess grins, straightening up and dropping the sunglasses in the box. "Night, Patty."

Rory takes his arm as they stroll out, laughing as they hear Babette shout, "Didn't I tell you he was a gnome-kicker? He can't be trusted!"

"Wow," Rory says in admiration once they're at a safe distance from the studio. "I was just teasing you when I called you Fred Astaire."

"Astaire's got nothing on me."

"You were amazing!" Rory exclaims, stopping to put her arms around him. "I was impressed!"

"Yeah, well...they said they wanted a show."

"Not complaining. I only wish I had a camera."

"Can't tell you how thankful I am you didn't."

"Remembering it's just as good."

Rory lifts up a corner of the feather boa Jess still has around his neck and, laughing, Jess lifts it up and puts it around her neck.

"Looks better on you."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I wore one once with a tiara."

"I'd like to see that."

He leans down to kiss her and Rory holds him tighter, eagerly kissing him back before breaking away.

"You know, it's a good thing you didn't smoke that cigarette or I wouldn't have kissed you. You know I hate that taste."

"I wasn't really going to light it," Jess jokes and then, with a grin, "But maybe you should kiss me again, you know, to make sure."

"Right," Rory says seriously. "Just to be sure."

She kisses him more than once, making absolutely certain, and Jess cups her head in his hand. She looks beautiful, even with the silly feather boa. If anything, it adds to it all. He wants to take her somewhere, be with her, do more than make out on the couch with Luke interrupting every five minutes. Rory gazes back at him, her blue eyes shining, and Jess feels his heart yearn too. He's never cared more for anyone, he knows. He wonders if he can ever say it.

"Jess..."

"Let's go somewhere."

"Where?" Rory asks reasonably and Jess shrugs helplessly. Where the hell are they going to go - her place? Lorelai will be camped out right by the bedroom door.

"Guess back to mine," Jess says resignedly and Rory smiles, looking a little daring as she says, "Hey, we'll figure something out. We'll find somewhere."

"Oh yeah?" Jess asks, brightening up and Rory laughs, sounding a little nervous.

"I don't mean tonight...I'm not um, ready..."

"That's okay," Jess says quickly and she nods.

"But sometime, I swear. Keep thinking what you're thinking."

"I don't have a choice."

They walk back to Luke's, hand-in-hand, and Rory says nonchalantly, "That shirt looks good like that."

"It does, huh?" Jess grins, using his spare hand to touch the exposed skin. He has to force himself not to think about Rory touching there or it's doubtful he'll even make it back to the apartment. He knows he'll need a cold shower later.

Rory answers by pressing herself closer to his side. They walk silently for a moment until Jess releases a breath and says, "So, Almost Famous tonight?"

"Jess," Rory groans, stopping. "We've seen that a million times!"

"Oh come on! I humiliated myself for you tonight!"

"Hey, I never asked for a Bowie concert!" Rory argued but she laughs. "I loved it though. Okay, okay, we'll watch Almost Famous."

"Thank you."

"And order from Sandeep's?"

"Rory, you know it stinks out the entire apartment!"

"But if I have to see Kate Hudson try and commit suicide again..."

"Fine, you've got yourself a deal."

"Thank you."

"You drive a hard again, Rory Gilmore," Jess says, stopping to kiss her, and Rory smiles as they break apart.

"Yes I do and you love it."

Jess kisses her again in answer. He does love it. He loved doing the Bowie riff for her, he loves all the things he does with her. Maybe he even loves her...what does Jess know? But right now he's with her, holding her to him, and it's more than Jess ever wished for. All the other junk he's going through doesn't seem important. Rory's with him, the night is theirs and Jess knows he's never been so happy before. He hopes she knows. Rory squeezes his hand, Jess kisses her head and they walk together into the night.

[concernedlily]

Alucard/Trevor post s3 ficlet

I like this little ficlet but it felt too short to trouble Ao3, so here it is! Alucard and Trevor then Alucard/Trevor (ADULTS ONLY but non-explicit) (seriously though, what IS their pairing name?)

“I’m staying over,” Belmont grunts. He storms inside the castle trailing whips, swords, blood, and a smell like the whole of Wallachia got together to dig a communal latrine and then he bathed in it.

“Oh, do come in!” Adrian calls after him.

***

“Where’s the Speaker?” Adrian asks.

Belmont snarls faintly.

“Dumped you, did she,” Adrian says.

Belmont says, “Fuck off.”

***

He doesn’t know what Belmont does all day. He’s down in the Hold a lot of the time, coming back coughing and surly, covered in the dust of books and the bitterness of generational angst. He drags back chopped trees by the half-dozen, often bearing suspicious whip marks, even though Adrian has told him and told him the heating pipes really don’t require open fires. He glugs down wines of the finest vintages like they’re pisswater village beer, and has an unerring way of finding the ones Adrian has taken care to hide at the backs of the most remote cupboards in the castle. 

He’s more of a haunting presence than Adrian is, all brooding and black-cloaked, and Adrian is an actual (half) vampire. Adrian thinks about kicking him out twice a day. 

***

Belmont finds him at the bottom of the stairs. 

He says, “What’s happened? Why are you crying?”

“Nothing,” Adrian says. “I don’t know.” He doesn’t. Sometimes he just can’t do anything but sit down and let the world go a bit grey around him. He’s not crying, anyway, not really. The tears are just squeezing out of him calmly and steadily, leaking neat wet tracks down his cheeks. They probably will for a while. 

“For fuck’s sake,” Belmont says. He sits down at the other end of the stair and picks silently at a hole in his trousers. 

Adrian doesn’t think about him, or anything else. When the tears stop and he’s ready to get up Belmont’s whole knee is visible. 

“I can mend that for you,” he says. He makes all his own clothes. 

“If you like,” Belmont says.

***

Belmont bangs into the sitting room where Adrian is trying to read a book in peace - Adrian hurriedly finishes his glass of wine, a delicate white, before Belmont can spot it and swipe it - and says belligerently, “Fancy a shag?”

“God, yes,” Adrian says fervently. Belmont brightens and Adrian blurts out, “Oh, with you?”

Belmont glowers. “You could’ve just said no,” he snaps. Adrian feels briefly guilty, until he remembers this is bloody Belmont. 

“Well,” he says. Belmont is a pain in the arse, and he still smells; but he has the firm strong body of a fighter, and he’s reliable and can be kind, and a kick to the crotch or two notwithstanding he’s only ever tried to murder Adrian fairly and from the front.

Also he’s the only person Adrian’s so much as seen in six months, and he’s offering.

“Fine,” he says. “But if you want me to touch your cock you have to wash it first.”

There’s plenty of hot water. He thinks that’s reasonable. If it’s big, he might even let Belmont persuade him to suck it for a while.

Belmont looks hilariously insulted, but:

“Fine,” he says. “Now?”

“Why not?” Adrian says.

***

It’s very big. 

It’s horribly, terribly, wonderful, multiple-orgasm-inducing, hot sex.

***

Alucard cooks them breakfast after.

“What the fuck are those,” Trevor says, appalled.

Alucard glances at the dolls he’d made. He should be mortified but he discovers, with some surprise, that he’s not. It might be the languorous aftereffects of the sex, or it might just be that Trevor is such a godforsaken disaster himself, who cares what he thinks?

“That one’s you, and that one’s Sypha,” he says.

“You’re a lunatic,” Trevor says, and puts his head down on the table with a dim wooden thunk.

And what’s more there’s something liberating about being able to tell Trevor everything that’s on his mind, since Trevor is certainly bloody doing that to him. 

(Although neither of them have mentioned the bit at the end, when Adrian had gasped, I love -, and Trevor had shuddered and come inside him and said, Alucard -) 

It’s like all the good parts of being alone, as well as all the pleasurable parts of company. “Did I fucking ask?” he says cheerfully, and serves Trevor eggs and bacon. Perhaps he’ll make black pudding for tomorrow. 

END

[suckerforsmylex]

Burn One Up for Me, Baby

It was a shitty, little, greasy spoon. The kind housed in the skeleton of an old rail car. It was a fossil from the forties, with a long, sit-down counter, slow service, and a greasy, dirty-apron-ed, cook in the back. Sylvie had only meant to work there for a summer, but here it was, almost two years to the date, and she was still working the graveyard shift a couple of nights a week. On late nights, Sylvie served double duty as waitress and cook. It worked well because nearly nobody ordered food at this time of night. Once she made it past the late-night dinner rush, it was all coffee, donuts and the occasional pieces of pie. She could pour a herself a cup and read or get lost looking at nonsense on her phone.  July was always disgustingly sticky in Gotham, and tonight was no different, even though it was nearly midnight. 

Sylvie lazily poured a cup of mediocre coffee into a coffee cup and took a sip from it and promptly spit it out. It was nasty. This wasn't the place to try it black. She poured a ridiculous amount of whatever was in the pink packets into the cup and followed it up with a healthy dose of cream like she normally did.  The owners were nice enough, but they penny pinched, and they never had the yellow packet stuff that Sylvie preferred. She stood against the counter drinking coffee and wiping aimlessly at an invisible spot with a damp rag.

Earlier that night, someone came in and ordered breakfast for dinner. It was a common occurrence but the grease from the bacon frying up on the flattop had left an oily spatter, barely visible on the dusty blue fabric of her lightly starched dress. The white Peter Pan collar was another story. The fabric of it was tarnished with an oily stain.  Finally having a moment to herself, Sylvie reached for the collar, pulling at it to assess the damage and then applying some water to it. It did nothing to remove the stain and she groaned audibly. She was working so hard at scrubbing at the fabric, that she barely heard the Joker’s voice coming from across the counter at her. “Tsk, tsk. That’s going to be a permanent stain, sweetheart.”  

He spoke softly enough, but Sylvie was startled and jumped backwards, knocking into the wood where the counter wrapped around in the tiny space.  His eyes were the first thing she noticed. It was an almost laughable thing to observe initially, considering his many absurdly conspicuous features.  His hair was a shock of snake green, slicked back and wild in the front, as if he’d been into something physical recently. His mouth was a mess of shiny metal.  He wore a black button down with the sleeves rolled up, revealing his forearms, inky with tattoos.  His fingers were ringed in gold and his knuckles were bloodied.

Even still, she noticed his eyes first.  They were crystal blue and she had never seen any like his before, so vast and beautiful, looking back into her own, ruddy brown. She was so taken with him, that she could almost feel her own pupils dilating.  He was a dose of deadly nightshade, in human form.  He sat there for a moment, glaring at her and grinning, clearly amused by the fright he’d given her and then he leaned forward, squinting to make out the name on the tag she wore and beckoning at her with a finger. “Come here…Sylvie.  What a pretty name.”  He exhaled and then said her name again, drawing out every syllable as he smirked at her.  “Syyyllllvvvviiiee…you can call me Mister J.”  Sylvie swallowed and walked forward slightly, grabbing a laminated, one-page menu and set it in front of him.  “It’s nice to meet you, Mister J.” He grabbed it from her excitedly, grazing her finger with his and lingering there for a moment before pulling it away completely. He was a vicious flirt.  

Sylvie had her fair share of flirts that came in to court her occasionally.  She knew how to deal with them, remaining pleasant while ducking their advances.  She only had to call the police once when one of her regulars had too much to drink and wouldn’t leave her alone.  Sylvie had dealt with all of it, in fact.  The rowdy drunks, the two-bit criminals, the assholes, the weirdos.  It was one of the reason’s she was still working the godforsaken graveyard shift.  Sylvie knew how to handle herself better than any of her predecessors, and yet, she couldn’t figure out why she was so unnerved by the strange man. He let his gaze fall over the short menu for a moment and then let his eyes rise back up to hers.  “What do you recommend?”  She thought for a moment and then giggled out an answer, sounding giddier than she intended to.  “It depends what you like.  Maybe you’re a meat and potatoes kinda’ guy.  Myself?  I’m partial to grilled cheese.”  The Joker considered that for a moment and chuckled.  “I’m starving, Sylvie.  I think I could eat one of everything on the menu.  Maybe I’ll do that.  How does that sound? You want to cook one of each for me, sugar?”  Sylvie let out a full bellied laugh and reached out to grab his forearm playfully.  “You do that, Mister J, and we’ll be here all night.  But I won’t be able to keep you company because I’ll be on the flattop slaving away.”  When her fingers met his skin, he snarled and pulled back instinctively, surprised by the contact.  Sylvie’s eyes darted back and forth, and she pulled back, afraid that she had ruined whatever was happening between them.  

He was suddenly on his feet, walking away from her, creating a bit of distance between them.  She noticed his attire, head-to-toe black, the only slight contrast coming from the shiny leather of the gun holster that hung from him as he paced.  He seemed to calm with the distance between them.  “I’ll have that grilled cheese.  Burn one up for me, baby.”  Sylvie smiled meekly and took the menu from the table.  “Anything to drink?”  He answered with his back turned to her.  “I didn’t see any grape soda.” He craned his neck to see her shaking her head ‘no’. “Give me a cherry coke, doll face. Easy on the ice.” Sylvie, put some ice in a glass and pumped cherry coke into it, until it met the brim and pulled a paper covered straw from her apron.   She set both items onto the counter and waited for him to return to the stool.  When he sat down, she set a newspaper in front of him.  “In case you’re bored while I cook this up for you, hon.”  

The Joker popped the straw into his glass and took a large sip before pushing the newspaper away. “How could I be bored with such interesting company?”  Sylvie spread some butter onto a couple of slices of bread and placed them onto the greased flattop with a sizzle, and then laying the cheese atop them.  She could feel his eyes all over her, examining her from top to bottom.  Her neck grew warm as a fluttering sensation danced up her legs and through to her thighs. Grabbing a spatula, she turned to him, smiling again. “It gets quite sticky in here and all we have it that crappy fan. You can crack the door if you feel hot.” He looked up at the sorry excuse for a fan, tied bits of fabric blowing upward lazily with each pitiful gust of air, and then towards her.  “I’m alright. But it looks like you’re a little flushed.”  He walked over to the door and engaged the kickstand with his foot, propping the door ajar enough to let in a cool breeze.  It flowed into the tiny diner car and kissed along Sylvie’s warm face. She had started to sweat and as she was plating, she had to stop to dip a clean cloth in ice water and put it against her forehead.  “Bon Appetit. Let me know if you want something else and I’ll whip it right up for you.”

The Joker took a large bite of the grilled cheese, letting it drip a little bit from the corner of his mouth, making Sylvie giggle again as she tried to cool herself down.  “Here’s some napkins, before you get cheese all over your face.”  Instead of using a napkin, he proceeded to stick his tongue out and lick for the cheese, sliding it into his mouth successfully and then sneering.  “Come around to me.”  He summoned for her with his finger again, until she gingerly emerged from around the counter.  He gave her a long look, from her white Keds, up the aproned, blue dress and up to her swingy ponytail and then pat the stool beside him.  His legs were open, and his knee claimed the stool he was asking her to sit in.  It was impossible for her to sit without leaning her body against his.  She considered this and did it anyway, sliding in until she felt his knee against her backside.  “You’re buttoned up to the neck.  No wonder you’re sweating.  Look at me. Do I look like I’m sweating?” Sylvie let her eyes fall on his exposed chest.  His shirt was practically open, only a few measly buttons fastening the shirt closed. The gold chains he wore glinted through and she was so distracted that she didn’t notice his fingers beneath her chin, lifting it up until she was staring directly at him.  “Let me help.”  Sylvie was forgetting how to breathe and then his fingers were making fast work of the buttons on her dress until the top of her lacy white bra was exposed. He let his eyes remain there, admiring her plump cleavage and then caressing at her arm delicately.  

The tension in the small diner was palpable, their mouths almost touching as he leaned in, breathing hard and fast.  They stayed that way for an indefinite amount of time, until he heard the Batmobile roll up with a screech.  He was expecting it and he calmly grabbed another bite of the grilled cheese, chewing quickly and then beaming like a lunatic.  “Do me a favor, honey.  Hold onto this for me.  I’ll be back for it.”  He wrapped a large blade in a white diner napkin, someone else’s blood seeping through it and staining it crimson.  And then he was gone, as if he was never there, running off into the night, the sound of his cackling penetrating the thick night sky.  Sylvie took the knife and did the only thing she knew to do. She stuck it at the bottom of her purse and lay her scarf over it.  When she got home, she unwrapped it, tracing her fingers over the embossed “J” and allowed herself to close her eyes and whisper his name. “Joker.”    

[moodyvalentinestories]

A Holly Jolly Christ-Mess. Part 10. | Rachel x Hunt

10: Loved

“When the rain is blowing in your face, and the whole world is on your case, I could offer you a warm embrace to make you feel my love.” – Make You Feel My Love (Bob Dylan)

Summary: More breakfast and talking. And maybe some crying.

Pairing: Thomas Hunt x Rachel Fields

Words: ~ 750 words

Notes: Okay. Okay, we’re gonna get to the really bad good part soon... 👀

❥ Moodyvalentine’s Masterlist ❥ Christmas Series Masterlist

Rachel shared the events of the previous day with Thomas over breakfast and, though he certainly didn’t enjoy her pain, he delighted in hearing her finally, finally, open up to him.

“You must think I’m terribly selfish.” She poured some syrup over her last waffle – Thomas had ended up making some after all when he’d realised that charred bacon and shrivelled, bone-dry eggs would not do – and let out a sigh. “Maybe I shouldn’t have—”

“You’re not selfish,” he interrupted, shaking his head. That thought hadn’t even crossed his mind when she’d called him last night. Everyone around her may have been – both Thomas and her family wanted her all to themselves – but Rachel, if anything, wasn’t selfish enough. She so desperately wanted to please both parties. And, somehow, she’d found a solution. Why was she beating herself up about it still? “You offered a compromise that works for everyone, did you not?”

She huffed. “It works for me. And for you, I guess, but I don’t think my family’s too happy with it.” She stabbed her waffle with her fork and aggressively cut off a piece before stuffing it in her mouth. “Fuckin’ affholef.”

Thomas refrained from commenting on her lack of table manners. Though her mood had significantly bettered after their morning workout, he was reasonably sure that she would not appreciate being scolded at a time like this. So he took a sip of his coffee, watching her chew and swallow before picking up another piece of the waffle.

This time, she spoke before putting it into her mouth. “I mean, it’s not like I’m not proud of him, you know? Oxford is a big deal, and I know how much it means to him, but why did he have to wish for another Christmas with us?”

“You’re not angry at your brother.”

She sighed. “No, I’m not. Not really. He’s… well, not innocent, but he’s just… he’s always wanted this happy family. And, God, I hope he finds it one day. It’s just not our family.”

Rachel continued eating her waffle, and though Thomas had expected her to keep talking, it appeared she was done. He, however, still had many unanswered questions. Would she close up again if he dared ask them?

“You seem to be particularly bothered about Christmas,” he said cautiously.

She raised an eyebrow, wary of what was to come, but nodded. “Mhm.”

“If you don’t mind me asking… why? It’s not just our trip.” He thought back to the conversation they’d had in his office the day before. She’d more than confirmed that it wasn’t – I probably would be sitting in my dorm room, complaining about how much I hate this godforsaken holiday. “Why is Christmas such a sore spot?”

A laugh escaped her lips, bitter and chilling. “Because everything always goes to shit on Christmas.”

“How so?”

She finished off her waffle before answering. “We always fought. Honestly, I can’t remember a single day in the last five or so years that I lived with them that we didn’t fight, but, you know, that’s – you get used to it at some point. It’s just part of day-to-day life. But the holidays – especially Christmas – are supposed to be different, aren’t they?” Her hand was shaking when she reached for her coffee. So was her voice when she spoke again. “I never wanted to hate Christmas. But how can you enjoy a celebration of love when all you get is contempt?”

Thomas was out of his chair the moment her tears began to fall. He was by her side within seconds, strong arms pulling her up from her chair and against his chest. “You are loved, Rachel,” he whispered and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, burying his face in her hair. “I will make sure that you’ll feel it this Christmas. And every Christmas to come.”

“God, I’m such a mess,” she said, trying to pull away but he only gripped her tighter. She looked up at him, eyes puffy and wet. “What—”

He looked down at her, face creased with worry. “I’m not letting them hurt you. If they upset you in any way, you call me. I’ll pick you up; I’ll take you home. Or here, or wherever else you want to go. Okay?”

“I can’t ask that of you,” she whispered, burying her head in his chest again.

Thomas put his hand under her chin to tilt her face up. He needed her to see just how serious he was. “You’re not asking. I’m offering.”

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[bittysvalentines]

Love in the Morning

From: @ivecarvedawoodenheart

To: @amessnamedwidogast

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 2461

I hope you like it!! I had a really good time with this :) Happy Valentine’s Day!!

Summary:

“Don’t you dare, you had better not, I’ll call your dad and the press, I’ll tell ‘em—” “I think ‘Jack Zimmermann helps out teammate with checking drills’ would be a good headline, actually. I give you my blessing.” “Not when you’re threatening to pour water all over me you big ole—” “‘Big ole’ what, exactly?” ___________________________

Zimbits, from Bitty’s POV. Focusing primarily on waking up in the morning.

(AO3)

Someone throws a pillow at his face. Bitty jolts upright, looking around wildly, almost falling out of bed. It better not be — oh Lord, he’s gonna murder him —

“Bon matin, Bittle.”

Bitty check his watch and screams internally.

“Jack, were you dropped as a child? Is that why you feel the need to force me out of bed at four in the morning?”

He thinks Jack raises his eyebrows. It’s hard to be sure when it’s so dark in here, but the vaguely Jack-sized blob in the doorway gives off a distinctly amused vibe.

“My uncle Wayne did, actually,” Jack says. “My parents forbade him from holding me until I could do backwards crossovers.”

“Mmph.” Bitty closes his eyes and pulls his blankets up under his chin. “Go bother Shitty, Mr. I’m-Friends-With-NHL-All-Stars. I have a test today.”

Jack says, “That was yesterday, Bittle.”

“I could have another one today, Zimmermann.”

“You, having a test and not tweeting about it? Impossible.”

Bitty cracks open an eye at that. “It’s too early for you to be chirpin’ this much,” he says, but he swings his legs out of bed and lets Jack bundle him off to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wake up somewhat. They’re on their way to the rink, Bitty in an oversized Pens sweatshirt because he couldn’t find one of his in the dark, before he realizes that means Jack reads his tweets.

____________

“I’m asleep, my eyes are closed, go away Jack, can’t you see I’m sleeping—”

“You’d be much more convincing if you weren’t talking, Bittle. You’ll have time after to take a nap, let’s get at it—”

“Oh my god . ‘Let’s get at it’? Are you actually eighty years old—”

“Yes, okay, Old Man Zimmermann, ha ha, that hasn’t been played out. If you really want to make fun of me you’ll get your butt to the rink, that’ll really show me.”

Bitty scowls at him when they get to the locker room. Jack laughs, just once, and it’s so surprised and quick a sound that Bitty almost misses it. He wants to hear it again.

____________

Midnight, and there’s a knock at his door. Bitty presses Señor Bun tighter to his chest and wipes his eyes hastily, catching his French book before it slides to the floor. “Yeah?”

“Can I … can I come in?”

The door makes it difficult to hear, but he thinks it’s Jack. He squeezes his eyes shut, biting his lip. Then he forces himself to perk up as best he can.

“Of course! Why’re you up? It’s so late.”

Jack eases the door open and shut behind him. Bitty watches him scan the room, taking in the flashcards strewn across his bedspread and his laptop. He wishes he hadn’t left it open on Google Translate.

Jack rubs the back of his neck. A little sliver of his shirt rides up, and Bitty knows this shouldn’t be anything — they’ve all seen too much of each other in the locker room — but it’s almost too much on top of everything. His hair sticks up in all directions. Bitty holds Señor Bun tighter to keep from crossing the room and making his hair even wilder.

“Your light’s still on,” Jack says. He looks so unsure of himself here. Bitty’s not sure he’s ever been in his room outside of waking him at godforsaken times in the morning. “I wanted to, euh. Make sure everything’s okay.”

“I’m fine,” Bitty says quickly. Jack shoots him an unimpressed look, first nodding to Bitty’s flashcards, then raising his eyebrows at the clock. “Well. Not quite okay, but. I will be fine, which is what matters.”

Jack still doesn’t look like he believes him, but when he crosses the room to sit on the bed, his face softens. He picks up a flashcard with le fromage written on it. “You’re learning food words?”

“Oui,” Bitty says. Even that has such a pronounced twang to it. He sighs. “I’ll be honest, it’s not going great.”

He’s fiddling with the card now, flipping it back and forth, playing with the corners. Bitty watches him gather the rest of the flashcards in a neat stack and shuffle them.

Jack says, “I can quiz you,” and Bitty’s about to cry again.

He wipes his eyes. “You don’t have to.”

It must catch in his voice, because Jack looks up then. His eyebrows crease. “I mean — I don’t want to overstep, but. I do speak French, so.”

“Oh do you?” Bitty asks, and Jack rolls his eyes. He tosses a card at him and le jus hits him in the Adam’s apple. Bitty swallows reflexively.

He doesn’t think he imagines how Jack watches him.

Jack bumps their knees together. “If you want,” Jack says softly. “I don’t mind.”

“Okay,” Bitty whispers. He clears his throat. “If you’re fine with how badly I’m going to pronounce these words, that is.”

“I’ll live,” Jack says.

Bitty smacks him with his pillow, and he laughs quietly. A little thrill runs through Bitty at the sound.

“Okay, Bittle,” Jack says. “Let’s do this.”

____________

In the morning, Jack yawns loudly in the faint morning light and says, “Up and at ‘em, let’s go—”

“You can’t be serious,” Bitty says, grumpy. “We were up the whole night doing flashcards and you took up the whole bed, I didn’t get to sleep for a second.”

“That’s a lie, you snored the whole time, I didn’t—”

“You and your big ass stole all the blankets, I couldn’t’ve snored because I have to be asleep for that—”

“Couldn’t’ve? Are you joking—”

Jack goes on a rant about how difficult it is to understand him, and then how hard it must be to understand either of them, and then segues into a scheme to confuse everyone next time they come back from a break and their accents are stronger. Bitty chimes in now and then. Mostly, though, he drinks in how this feels: Jack in his bed, flashcards still everywhere — there’s one stuck to Jack’s cheek now, he thinks it’s les fraises — and his eyes still sleep heavy.

Bitty wants this so badly he outright gasps in the middle of Jack’s sentence.

“You okay, Bitty?”

“Fine,” he says, trying to push the feeling aside. “You’re kidding though, right? About checking practice today?”

Jack holds out a hand in a may I? gesture that Bitty doesn’t understand until he pouts, glancing at Señor Bun. Bitty hands him over tentatively. Jack tucks Señor Bun neatly under his chin, cuddling him with his eyes closed, and this all but knocks the air out of Bitty.

“‘M joking,” Jack says. Beneath the covers, Bitty feels him gently nudge his side with an elbow. “‘M tired. Bonne nuit.”

“No French when I’m trying to sleep, Mr. Zimmermann,” he says softly. Jack nudges him again.

He drifts off. In his dreams, he sees Jack holding Señor Bun like he’s something precious.

____________

Bitty has Canadian bacon on the stove when Jack stumbles downstairs. He quietly pours himself some orange juice, then Bitty feels rather than sees him join him at the stove.

“There’re some eggs in the fridge,” Bitty says, “if you wanna do somethin’ with them.”

He bumps his shoulder against Jack’s chest just to touch him and prove to himself that they’re standing here, together. Jack’s golden in the dewy morning sun.

“Your checks are getting better,” he says then, and Bitty says, “Oh, shush, you.”

Jack scrambles some eggs and fries some, and it’s peaceful between them.

____________

“Don’t you dare, you had better not, I’ll call your dad and the press, I’ll tell ‘em—”

“I think ‘Jack Zimmermann helps out teammate with checking drills’ would be a good headline, actually. I give you my blessing.”

“Not when you’re threatening to pour water all over me you big ole—”

“‘Big ole’ what, exactly?”

“I — it’s early, okay? My mouth hasn’t woken up yet.”

“Seems like it has to me.”

Bitty crawls out of his blankets at that, cheeks burning. “You tryin’ to tell me I talk too much?”

Jack takes a sip of water. “No, I’m trying to tell you to get your ass out of bed so we can go to Faber before the early skate. Do you think I enjoy being up at four?”

“Yes.”

“Well.” He tilts his head to the side. “Look, it’s prime running time—”

Bitty narrows his eyes. “Jack Laurent Zimmermann, you could get mugged—”

“—not if I’m running faster than my mugger, which is what I was about to say when I was so rudely interrupted, and how else am I to outrun a mugger than to practice running?”

He looks so pleased with his logic. Bitty says, “People like you are what’s wrong with this country,” and he grins broadly.

“I’m Canadian, remember?”

Bitty beats him for the first time in their end of practice race.

____________

Bitty’s alarm wakes him for the first time in ages, which of course means Jack died or something because no way in hell would he miss an opportunity to push him into the boards for an hour and a half.

Lord. He wouldn’t mind being pushed against the boards.

He’s had enough dreams that end up against the boards, for various reasons, and … he shouldn’t be thinking this, now, but.

He checks the weather and his school email and then, shivering, pads across the hall.

“Jack?” An answering mmph gives him the okay to open the door, so he does. He blinks to adjust to the darkness. Jack peeks blearily out from his blankets. “They’ve called classes for the day, it’s too cold out.”

Jack says, “Mmph,” and Bitty connects the dots. “You knew that already, I’m sorry! I’ll just—”

“Bittle.”

Bitty stops midway to the door.

“Yeah?”

Jack jerks his head toward the bed, peeling back his blankets. “It’s cold,” he mumbles, “c’mon.”

Bitty’s heart about stops. His mouth moves wordlessly for a few seconds before his mind catches up from where it stopped on Jack’s asking me to get in bed with him .

“Are you sure?” he asks, and Jack nods.

“No point losing more body heat,” he says sleepily. “Besides. My bed’s bigger than yours, we’ll fit fine.”

“Chirp chirp.”

So Bitty does. He climbs into his bed carefully, trying not to jostle Jack too much. Jack clumsily tucks the blankets around them and when Bitty tugs on the covers himself, their hands brush. Jack squeezes his briefly, then lets go. Bitty shivers again, but not from the cold.

“Oh — here —” Jack shifts his pillow and then presses a balled up sweatshirt into Bitty’s hands. “If you want.”

It’s the Pens sweatshirt he’d borrowed months ago. It still smells like him. The fact of Jack, sleeping with this so close to his face, breaks so sweetly in Bitty’s chest. He pulls it on.

“Thanks,” he whispers.

Jack says, “Mmph,” but Bitty can see him smiling slightly.

____________

Bitty wakes up after graduation to two texts. They’re timestamped 4:02 AM.

They say,

I’m sorry if it’s too early to say this , but I’ve been wanting to tell you for awhile now

I think I fell in love with you in the morning

He touches his lips with his fingertips and wonders when it was he got so stupid lucky.

________________________

A pillow lands on his face, yanking him out of a stress dream about playoffs.

Something in their bedroom smells delicious. He opens his eyes and blinks to be sure he isn’t dreaming.

Jack’s filled their nightstands with plates and plates of food. There’s a heap of pancakes stacked high and half buried under blueberries and strawberries and what smells like 100% Canadian syrup on one of them, and toast shining beautifully with butter stacked next to eggs cooked every which way of the other. Jack himself is sitting at Bitty’s feet, wearing the Schooners shirt Bitty had gotten as a signing perk two years back. It still looks so, so good on him. Bitty’s never gotten over the thrill at seeing Jack in a shirt with his last name on it.

“Oh sweetheart,” Bitty says, yawning. “How did you—”

“I have my ways,” Jack says, handing him a plate and Bitty smiles.

“It all smells so good.”

“That’s only because you missed about an hour of me burning everything on the stove.”

Bitty throws up his hands in mock exasperation. “This boy.”

Jack crawls next to him and leans against the headboard. He rests his arm around Bitty, pulling him gently against his side, and presses a kiss to the side of his head. “Your boy, you mean,” he says, and Bitty about melts.

“For half a second there I thought you were wakin’ me up for checking practice again,” Bitty tells him, after they’ve kissed a little.

Jack says, “I still could,” and Bitty kisses him some more to distract him. From the way he huffs a laugh, he knows Jack knows what he’s doing. “Though you don’t really need it now.”

“Yeah, I had a really good, really strict captain for that.”

They’re quiet a moment while they eat. Bitty sneaks peeks at Jack now and then, liking the way the sun still loves him. Jack catches him a few times and chirps him softly.

“I don’t think I ever told you,” Bitty says, when they’ve stacked all their dishes out of the way. “It was when you said you read my tweets, for me. Or with Señor Bun that first night in my bed, when you looked at him like he was a new bucket of pucks.”

“When…” Jack starts, frowning a little. Bitty waits for him to puzzle it out, leaning fully against him now. He sees the realization before Jack says it. “Oh,” Jack says. “When you…”

“When I fell in love with you,” Bitty says simply. “That was when.”

Jack tips his chin up with two fingers and Bitty savors this kiss more than any other they’ve had, except for the one after that one, and the one after that.

“I love you,” Jack says afterward. He presses their foreheads together.

Bitty says, “I love you no matter how many eggs you burn,” and Jack laughs another quick, surprised laugh. Hearing now is even better than the first time.

Jack helps him out of bed and they wash the dishes together, stopping now and then to bump into each other and kiss softly and be at home here, together in their kitchen with the sun just coming up. Even after all this time, this feels like the start of something.

Bitty takes Jack’s hand as the radio plays. They stay like this, dancing their way through cleaning up, well past when the sun rises fully in the sky.

________________________

[secret-rendezvous1d]

Uhm... so... I just found this sitting in my documents and I don’t know where this came from or when I wrote it but... wow.

*

The kitchen felt heavy and thick with tension and YN was sure she could cut the atmosphere with the knife she held in her hand. Carrots on the wooden chopping board, that sat upon the marble counter-top, were in the shape of perfectly sliced batons, ready to sit on two plates that were already steaming with homemade cottage pie that had been cooking all afternoon in the oven. Filling the tense atmosphere with a homely feeling... even though they felt far away from home.

“I thought you loved me,” he croaked, his voice sounding completely broken as it shattered the horrendous silence that swallowed the both of them. His chin dipped down to his chest as he stared down at his bare toes, the glittering pink polish seeming to take his attention away from her. “I thought you loved me.”

The way he repeated himself made her chest constrict and she was rather glad she had her back to him, allowing her tear-filled eyes to focus in on the backyard that was beautifully decorated with the setting sun as it disappeared over the horizon. The green grass of the lawn was no longer bright under the beaming sunlight, there was no glaring rays bouncing off of the surface of the outdoor pool, the light-brown decking was no longer splashed with a high-temperature warmth and it was a bittersweet ending to what had been a glorious day.

Of course she loved him.

She was sure she’d never loved anyone as much as she loved him and she more than certain that she hadn’t ever adored someone else as much as she adored him. There were married. Happily.

Or so they thought.

Because what had started out as a harmless night, catching up with his school friends once they had hopped off the train at Euston, had soon turned into a front-page story that brought a breath of rotten air into their home. The kind that lingered and made you feel sick. The kind that, no matter how much you tried to ignore it, still clung to the atmosphere. His face plastered across every social media outlet, slightly-drunk and with a lopsided smile on his face, hooded eyes and red cheeks as the almost midnight breeze caught his exposed skin, chatting to a woman who was far, far older than he was. A cigarette in one hand, hooker-red lips on her face, spaghetti strap dress that didn’t leave much to the imagination.

HARRY STYLES; TROUBLE IN PARADISE?

That’s all she’d seen walking into Waitrose the following morning whilst on a run to grab some bacon and some antibiotics to help soothe his soon-to-be pounding headache. Orange juice being at the bottom of her list because, for some strange reason, that had always been something that helped settle his stomach during their hungover mornings.

“I thought you understood everything that came with my job. I thought you understood that there were downsides to it. That I was always going to be photographed doing something innocent that would make people talk. I thought you knew that,” he gulped thickly, his Adams apple bobbing and the sound making her feel worse. Refusing to let his emotions take over because this wasn’t his time to be weak. “I thought you, of all people, would be understanding. I thought you trusted me.”

“I do love you,” she whispered, her voice sounding a lot softer than she thought it would sound, “I do understand, Harry.”

“Then why don’t you believe me?” He yelled. His palm slapping down on the countertop of the kitchen island, his rings making a god-awful clinking sound that brought a chill to her spine, rattling the empty wine glasses that he had previously set down. The volume startling her, causing her to jump in her place, whimpering softly as she set the knife down - with her shaky hands, she couldn’t afford to keep going. “Why don’t you believe me when I say I did absolutely nothing? I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry that this means intense media coverage on how rocky our relationship supposedly is. I’m sorry that I’ve humiliated the both of us for doing something polite. I’m sorry that this isn’t what you wanted for a life. Being the wife of someone who can’t shake off that godforsaken womaniser image. I’m sorry that your life is so much harder than it was before.” A hot tear dribbled down his cheek and he was quick to swipe it away with the back of his hand, sniffling heavily, before she spun on her heels to look at him. “I didn’t do anything. Nothing happened. Fuck, I love you. And I thought you loved me, too.”

She feels her stomach wrack with guilt; she knew her husband like the back of her hand and cheating was something he never condoned.

Always told his friends to stop gawping at women that weren’t theirs because it was wrong for the woman they had at home. Always had something to say about the cheating storylines in soap operas that never settled well with him. Always promised to never, ever do such a thing to her because he loved her too much to ruin what they had. Always made sure she never had any worrying doubts over him when media stories came out.

“I do love you,” she cooed, reaching for his hands and squeezing his fingers tightly. Leaning her head down to look at him as he looked down at his feet. “I’m sorry I- I shouldn’t have believed what was read in the papers. I trust you more than you think I do, okay? I know you would never, ever do anything to ruin that.”

“I would never,” he admitted with a shake in her voice, his lips dropping into a sad frown as his face scrunched into a look of pure upset. Pure heartbreak. “She tried. S’why they caught her arms around me. Never did anything to encourage her,” his voice cracked as she shook her head and reached up to cup his jaw, running her thumb over her moist bottom lip, “was just being friendly. I was waiting for the taxi and she was out there havin’ a smoke and-”

She shushed him, wiping his cheek with her thumb, “I believe you. I love you. I trust you so much,” she leaned up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

[keichanz]

You Rescued Me: Chapter 2

For some reason, tumblr is bunching italicized words together after I paste it onto here from Word, so if you happen to spot one, lemme know. I tried to catch and fix them all, but I can’t be sure.

A note about Inuyasha: When I first started this story, I had a very clear image of how I wanted this AU’s version of Inuyasha to be; I wanted him to be rough and gruff, but someone who exudes a quiet strength that Kagome is easily able to recognize. He’s someone who’s used to hard work, getting his hands dirty, and yeah he’s seen some shit, but you’ll learn about that later.  I wanted an element of mystery, but someone still approachable. I wanted to go for a “I’m lonely, but I don’t want to be” sort of vibe and I hope I managed to pull that off. See where I’m going with this? Lol.

Yes, he does smoke in this story. I apologize if you don’t like that, but it’s part of the image I wanted to portray, and you’ll learn why he does in a later chapter.  I suppose in short I wanted a rough ‘n’ tumble type, but gentle when it truly matters. On the outside, he looks mean, and scary and unapproachable. On the inside though, he’s a big softie who likes to protect those weaker than him, loves his niece, is a closet comedian, and has a secret love affair with bacon. So don’t worry; I still kept some aspects of the dogboy we all know and love. I wouldn’t change him completely, of course! :)

I really hope how I portray him doesn’t dissuade some people form reading, because even though I did say I hate this fic (okay so that was a boldfaced lie lmao) I am really, really proud of how this story turned out, and I’ve been working on this for literal months now.

If it turns out that my Inuyasha is not your cup of tea, that’s fine. But I do hope you’ll give him a chance. :)

The interior design/decor of Inuyasha’s house was loosely inspired by the Bartlett ranch house in the show Heartland. (I love that show and I’m addicted to it ;adjfa;dfahdfal)

Read on AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12 || Chapter 13 || Chapter 14 || Chapter 15 || Epilogue 

The ten-minute ride to his house was quiet and uneventful but he didn’t care, and he suspected his guest didn’t either. She had her head leaned against the door and her eyes closed as the wind caressed her face and played with the stands of ebony hair that hung down and for the first time Inuyasha wondered how old she was. Now that he was closer, he could deduce she couldn’t be much older than him, perhaps a few years younger, even. The stress of the night, however, made her look much older and abruptly he found himself wanting to deck the motherfucker who had put those bruises on her. How dare he hurt such a beautiful, fragile creature? Women were supposed to be treasured, cherished, and protected, not used for fucking punching bags. Without them, literally nobody would be alive on this godforsaken planet and he had the fucking balls to—

Abruptly Inuyasha realized he was growling and instantly he cut the sound off with guilty wince, flicking his eyes over to the woman beside him. She was staring at him in alarm, her eyes wide and he couldn’t help but notice how she’d shrunk against the door in an effort to put some distance between them.

Aw, shit. He’d gone and done the one thing he vowed that he wouldn’t do and now he felt like absolute shit. “Sorry,” he muttered and focused ahead once again, his hands tight on the wheel. “It wasn’t…” He cleared his throat. “That wasn’t because of you. I was just—” He stopped himself before he could finish and clamped his jaw shut, not sure it would be a good idea to admit what he’d been thinking and bring up horrible memories for her.

But then, taking him by surprise, she gradually relaxed again and gave him an expectant look, head tilted curiously to the side, so he obliged her. Slanting her a cautious look, he flicked his finished cigarette out the window and rumbled, “I was just thinking how about much I’d like to deck the asshole that did that to you.”

Surprise flared in her eyes as her hand came up to flutter over the bruise on her jaw and over her neck. Then her eyes dimmed, she turned away and Inuyasha mentally cursed.

Clenching his jaw in anger aimed at himself, Inuyasha flicked his blinker on and hung a right onto a considerably smoother road. A minute later he slowed down and turned left into his dirt driveway that led up a slight incline to his two-story ranch house. He’d bought it solely because he had no neighbors for miles and it was isolated and set back from the road, even though there was minimal traffic this far out in the country.

As he pulled up to the wraparound front porch, Jaxson lifted his head and started wagging his tail from his location sprawled on the porch before the steps. He heard a soft gasp as he put the truck in park and cut the engine and a glance told him his impromptu houseguest had spotted the large dog and the look of delight that lit her face had him briefly spellbound.

Then Jax released a happy bark and whatever trance Inuyasha had been in was broken. Glad that his dog wouldn’t pose as a problem for the skittish woman, Inuyasha opened his door and hopped out, not really surprised when she lingered in the cab and simply stared out the window as he made his way over to greet the wolf-like canine.

Despite his size, Jaxson still acted like a puppy whenever he came home and he was all excited energy, tail whipping back and forth ferociously, standing up on his hind legs as he knelt down and then barraging his face with a thousand licks of hi, dad. Inuyasha took it all without complaint, rubbing his sides vigorously and scratching the pointed ears similar to his own. He slid his gaze to the side, looked into the cab of his truck and as if that was what she was waiting for, his guest finally exited and made her way slowly over to them.

Excited at the opportunity to make a new friend, Jaxson predictably left his side and trotted on over to her, all happy panting, wagging tail and lolling tongue as he nudged her hand with his big nose for pets. She made a soft sound in the back of her throat and knelt down to give the big dog some lovins.

Watching from the porch, Inuyasha saw her smile for the first time and his heart skipped a beat in his chest. Her caramel eyes, before looking so dim and lifeless, were bright with amusement and affection as Jax licked her face and the sound of her soft laughter was the sweetest melody.

Realizing he was staring, Inuyasha shook himself out of it and brushed past the pair to retrieve her bag from the floor of the cab. He frowned at how light it was but didn’t comment as he shut the door and went to crouch beside them, extending his hand to scratch behind the dog’s ears. Jax gave his hand a lick then continued snuffling and nosing his new friend, eager for more attention. “This is Jaxson,” he murmured and said dog’s ears perked up at the sound of his name. “He’s a big fluffy idiot, has a habit of stealing my bacon when I’m not looking, and likes to pester Rain until she gets sick of it and chases him around.” He gave his dog a pointed stare.

Jax barked at him and wagged his tail.

While Inuyasha just looked deadpan, his female guest giggled again and softly asked, “Rain?”

A little startled to hear her voice for the first time, Inuyasha blinked and stared at her but recovered quickly. He shook his head and rumbled, “Tomorrow.” He didn’t think she was up for a tour at the moment, not when she looked dead on her feet and like she could sleep for the next week. He stood up, slung the strap of her bag over his shoulder and offered her a hand without thinking. Before he could retract it, though, she surprised him for what seemed like the nth time that night and grabbed it without hesitation and instinctively he hauled her up with no effort at all.

Jax darted ahead of them and zoomed up the stairs to wait at the door and she spoke up again. “What breed is he?”

Inuyasha decided that he liked her voice and doubly liked the fact that she was feeling comfortable enough to talk to him. “Native American Indian,” he replied and opened the front door, stepping into the open mudroom that led directly into his kitchen as Jaxson zoomed off to god knows where. The soft glow coming from the stove light he’d left on provided just enough illumination for her to see by as he ushered her in then closed the door behind her. Then he paused, shot her a speculative look, and with deliberate movements Inuyasha slid the deadbolt home and twisted the lock on the knob.

The look she gave him spoke volumes of her gratitude and he nodded in reply. Jax took that moment to come skidding back into the kitchen with one of his well-loved toys in his mouth and promptly sat down in the middle of the kitchen floor, placing his toy right between his paws before tilting his head and looking the very picture of A Good Boy.

“He’s beautiful,” she whispered. With the dim lighting from the stove, she could make out the gray and white shades with some scattered brown of his long fur and it was truly striking just how much the canine resembled that of his wilder ancestor.

Inuyasha snorted. “Yeah, you wouldn’t be saying that after seeing how much he goddamn sheds,” he muttered more to himself than her but judging by the badly stifled snicker, she’d heard anyway.

His dog started using the “look at me, I’m cute” card and used to his dog’s shenanigans, he ignored him and focused his attention back on his lovely houseguest. While clearly still recovering from this nightmare of a night, she was a bit more relaxed now as she glanced curiously around his home, however that could be because of the bone-deep weariness he sensed in her, all of the stress starting to really take its toll and he didn’t even need his nose to tell him she was completely exhausted.

Still, before he took her upstairs, he needed to make sure she was taken care of in all aspects. “Hungry? Anything to drink?”

She shook her head, hesitated, then shook it again and avoided his eyes.

Inuyasha studied her silently for a moment then nodded. “Alright.” Despite her answer, though, he still ventured over to the fridge, grabbed a bottled water and took a few sips for himself before gesturing for her to follow and crossed the hardwood floor into the living room. Tomorrow he’d show her around, that is if she wanted, but for now he figured it’d be best if he showed her where she’d be sleeping. The shuffle of soft moccasins told him she was right behind so he hung a left and headed for the stairs, nearly getting knocked over by Jaxson as he bounded ahead of them and raced down the hall.

He gave her the guest bedroom that was right next to his. “Make yourself at home,” he said as he went forward and flicked on the lamp on the nightstand. Jax zipped in and jumped onto the bed. “I wasn’t talking to you, Fluff,” he deadpanned as the canine circled a few times in his nightly routine for sleep and was rewarded by a quite laugh and his dog’s soft whuff.

Shaking his head, he deposited her bag on the bed and discreetly set the bottle of water on the nightstand. “Bathroom’s right across the hall. Feel free to take a shower, or whatever. If you get hungry, help yourself to anything in the kitchen, I don’t care.”

Inuyasha watched as she sank down onto the bed and a second later Jaxson’s head plopped down onto her thigh. Her smile was small and tired but genuine as she stroked the dog’s head fondly and Inuyasha wondered when the hell his dog had become such a ladies man. Er, dog. The only other person he could think of that he’d taken to so quickly was his mother. Not that he was complaining, of course; if Jax’s company eased even a fraction of her distress, he supposed he could deal with his loyal companion of eight years forgetting that he existed.

He inwardly snorted then said, “Jax,” and knelt down as without hesitation the large dog hopped down and loped over to him. Scratching behind his pointed ears and around his neck, Inuyasha told his dog, “Keep an eye on her for me, alright? I’m counting on you to protect her.”

Jaxson blinked at him and then leaned forward to lick his chin.

A ghost of a smile twitched at the corners of his lips. “Good boy,” Inuyasha murmured and with a final scratch to his dog’s chin, he stood up. Jaxson returned to the bed and made himself comfortable, stretching out with a gusty sigh and going still.

Inuyasha turned amber eyes her way and locked with caramel depths. He opened his mouth, closed it, and sighed. “Goodnight,” he murmured and turned to leave.

“W-wait? …Please.”

Inuyasha stopped and turned back around, his face blank, but not unfriendly as he gazed expectantly at her with his hands in his pockets.

She was staring at him and biting down on her lip, looking a little uncertain and once more surprising himself, Inuyasha waited patiently for whatever she had to say. But it wasn’t long at all until she seemed to steel herself and hesitantly ask, “…What’s your name?”

Inuyasha considered her quietly with no change in his expression before answering simply, “Inuyasha.”

She fell quiet and although Inuyasha was curious, he didn’t ask for her name in return. He figured she’d tell him in her own time, when she was ready to stop being anonymous.

“Inuyasha,” she murmured so quietly he almost didn’t hear her and his ears trained forward under his hat to catch her soft voice. When she locked eyes with him again, they were wide, misty and the breath caught in his throat at the utter trust he found swimming in those cinnamon depths. “Thank you.” The smile she offered him wavered as she tried to keep her emotions in check and just like that Inuyasha’s emotionless façade cracked.

His face softened and honeyed eyes grew warm as he gazed at her then with a sigh, Inuyasha took off his hat and ran a hand through his short choppy hair, amazed at this little slip of a woman’s strength. “If you need anything,” he began, voice a little gruff but no less sincere, “I’m right next door.”

Inuyasha didn’t say anything more than that but he didn’t need to; his lovely guest nodded, closed her eyes as her shoulders started to shake and he took that as his cue to leave. The door closed with a soft click and Inuyasha forced himself to walk away as the sound of muffled sobs reached his ears and went straight to his aching heart.

Kagome woke up to a dry mouth, a pounding head, and the sound of somebody snoring softly beside her.

It was the last one that caused Kagome to jolt upright with a choked cry and scramble off the bed as fast as she could, nearly tumbling to the floor in her haste to get away. She spun around and threw her hands up without thinking, prepared to defend herself—

Only to be met with the lazy stare of a large and familiar furry dog that was lying comfortably on her bed. He blinked at her before stretching his jaw in a wide, tongue-curling yawn and that was when Kagome remembered where she was and what had happened last night.

The relief was so great she sank to the floor, her legs unable to support her and she closed her eyes as a soft whimper escaped her mouth. She pressed a hand to lips and took a shuddering breath, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart, and then nearly screamed again when something cold nudged her cheek. Her eyes flew open to find her bedmate sitting in front of her and giving her the equivalent of a doggy smile, tongue lolling and tail wagging back and forth.

Kagome issued a watery laugh and wrapped her arms around the gray and white dog, burying her face in his soft fur. “Thank you, Jax,” she whispered, recalling how he’d patiently let her cry into his neck last night and basically use him as her own personal snuggle buddy. She received a fond lick on her cheek in response and she gave another husky chuckle before leaning back and kissing his snout. “Good boy.”

Evidently recognizing those two words, Jax tossed his head and danced around, wagging his tail and giving a few soft barks before suddenly freezing and staring at her raptly, as if waiting for more praise.

Kagome laughed genuinely that time and framed his doggy face in her hands. “Such a good boy!”

A loud, pleased bark echoed off the walls and Kagome watched in amusement as Jaxson spun around in circles before abruptly taking off faster than a bullet, zooming out of her room through the cracked door and disappearing down the stairs.

Shaking her head, but not without a smile, Kagome wiped at her damp eyes then heaved herself back onto the bed. Unfortunately the movement reminded her of the pounding headache currently ricocheting in her skull and she winced, bringing a hand up to rub her forehead. Wrinkling her nose at the cotton-like texture in her mouth, Kagome cracked her eyes open and peered around the room. “Ugh, what I wouldn’t give for some—”

Kagome froze as her gaze landed on the nightstand beside the bed and stupidly her eyes began to water. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she reached out and grabbed the little white container that sat innocently beside a bottle of water and a trembling smile slowly curved her lips. Blinking rapidly as her vision grew blurry, Kagome gave a shaky sigh and thought about how strange it was that a complete stranger had given her more kindness in compassion within the first hour of knowing him than her boyfriend—ex-boyfriend had in all of the four years she’d been with him.

Thinking of that wretched man who had caused her to end up in this predicament and most likely being the source of her current headache brought another deluge of tears and she huffed in annoyance, quickly dashing her hand across her eyes. Dammit, she’d cried enough over that worthless piece of trash! He didn’t deserve her tears, he didn’t deserve anything from her anymore and Kagome resolved to put him out of her mind, at least for now.

Sniffling, Kagome shook out two capsules of the Ibuprofen Inuyasha had, at some time this morning, put there for her to find and washed them down with a swig of the bottled water he’d also left for her. She smiled, wondering if he really was that perceptive or if he was just plain sneaky.

Deciding it didn’t matter either way because she was grateful all the same, Kagome ended up drinking half the bottle, not even realizing she was so thirsty, before setting it down with a sigh of satisfaction. She glanced out the window, wishing she still had her phone so she could check the time, but she hadn’t wanted to bring it with her when she left since it was under his name and she didn’t want anything that belonged to him. By the amount of sunlight she could see, Kagome judged it to still be early morning, perhaps 8 am at the latest.

Scowling once she realized her thoughts had turned back to him again, Kagome shook her head and stood up, thinking a shower sounded positively divine right about now. She retrieved her toiletry bag from her duffel and peeked out into the hallway, not at all surprised to find her host’s bedroom door wide open and empty. For some reason she’d suspected him to be an early riser, and it looked like she was right.

Crossing the hallway and entering the bathroom, she set her bag on the sink and turned on the water in the shower, getting it nice and hot before shucking her clothes. But then she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and she gasped, her eyes going wide as she leaned forward and lifted a shaking hand to her face.

God, she hadn’t realized… Seeing her reflection for the first time since Naraku had struck her, Kagome was taken aback at how terrible the bruise looked. It had turned an angry dark bluish-purple overnight that spread from the left side of her jaw to under her chin; no wonder she had a headache and it hurt to talk! Her astonished eyes flickered down to her neck and she winced at the circle of discolored flesh, shuddering as she recalled the feeling of his hand squeezing the breath right out of her lungs. Well, that explained the sore throat.

Kagome braced her hands on the sink and took a few deep breaths, closing her eyes, forcefully pushing those thoughts from her head. She had to stop thinking about it, about him. He was poisonous, toxic to her health, mentally and physically, and she’d be damned before she ever let him get to her again. She couldn’t believe it had taken Naraku actually hitting her for her to wise up and leave, but now that she had, she didn’t regret it. Their relationship had been going steadily downhill for the last two years and now things have come to a head, and she couldn’t be more satisfied with her decision to leave.

It took a moment, but she was able to regain her bearings and she stepped under the hot spray of the shower, washing away the proverbial dirt, her ex’s violent touch, and everything bad that had happened last night. As the water sluiced down the drain, she pretended that all of the negative memories attached to last night went with it, leaving her with a sense of cleanliness that was wholly refreshing.

Twenty minutes later and donned in comfortable shorts and a forest green t-shirt, Kagome was feeling much more like herself as she wandered down the stairs in moccasin-clad feet. Since she hadn’t been able to last night partly because she’d been tired but mostly because it had been too dark, she paused to admire the décor of the living area. The walls reminded her of a log cabin and the floor was polished hardwood, covered with a large oriental area rug in shades of dark reds and gold. An old fashioned fireplace took up the far wall, the brick mantel giving the room a rustic, charming look that made Kagome want to curl up on the comfy looking couch and snooze the day away. His entertainment center was top notch – of course – and the large bay windows provided a gorgeous view of open field and blue sky.

Inuyasha definitely has good taste, Kagome thought as she ventured into the kitchen and she had to smile upon spotting what was on the small two-seater table. Her heart gave a curious little flutter as she picked up a piece of toast and munched into it, eyeing the rest of the meal of eggs, bacon and sausage. While everything looked delicious, Kagome didn’t think her stomach would be up for it and she nearly whimpered as her eyes landed on the fresh pot of coffee sitting on the counter.

“Screw it,” she muttered a second later, snatched the empty mug on the table and marched over to pour herself a nice hot cup o’ joe. “Mmm,” Kagome sighed as she lifted it to her lips and took that first blessed sip; it was the perfect temperature.

From somewhere outside she heard Jaxson bark followed by a man’s deep timbre and without even thinking about it Kagome found herself crossing the kitchen, entering the little mudroom then with her coffee in hand, she exited the house into the pleasantly warm July morning. She spotted him instantly over by the fence that started at the barn and extended outward, using the hose to wash out some buckets and he was talking in low tones to Jax, who was trying to eat the water from the hose, and to the absolutely gorgeous creature that kept lipping at his hair and hat.

Kagome’s eyes lit up with delight and smiling, she descended the few steps and meandered her way over to him, clutching her coffee with both hands. He looked damn fine in a pair of torn jeans and a white t-shirt that showed off the spectacular muscles in his arms, and she couldn’t help but notice he hadn’t bothered to shave this morning, his jaw still darkened attractively with stubble and she very suddenly wanted to run her fingers over the roughness. He was wearing the worn hat again from last night and she suspected he used it to keep the sun out of his eyes more than a fashion statement.

And the dust out of those adorable ears of his, she thought and had to bite her lip to stifle the giggle that welled up.

Inuyasha heard her before he saw her and after giving the black feed bucket one last rinse, he set it down and then slipped the open ended hose, still dispensing cold water, into the large water trough on the other side of the fence. Rain snorted and tried to grab his hat again but he thwarted her with an irritated grumble and gently shoved her long nose away.

“She’s beautiful,” Kagome remarked as she came to a stop beside him and reached out to stroke her palm down Rain’s soft muzzle to the even softer nose. The Paint horse nickered and happily accepted the attention for a few seconds before stretching her neck out and snuffling at the new person in curiosity. Kagome’s smile widened and she stroked that strong neck, marveling at the softness.

“She’s a pain in the ass,” Inuyasha returned but the way he slipped his hand under the brown and white mane to give a few fond scratches belied the careless words.

She laughed and his heart felt lighter. “What’s her name?”

“Rain,” he replied and leaned back against the fence, crossing his arms and keeping an eye on the water trough; he didn’t want it to overflow. “She belongs to my niece.” Giving her a quick once over, the damp hair pulled into a thick braid hanging over her shoulder and the subtle scent of cherry blossoms suggested she’d taken a shower and Inuyasha had to consciously resist the urge to inhale her scent deeply, glad that he detected no fear or exhaustion.

He didn’t elaborate any further but when she failed to hide the flash of disappointment that crossed her face before she looked away, Inuyasha grimaced and mentally cursed himself. He’d never been much of a conversationalist, never really seeing the need to waste energy on needless chatter. Besides, he wasn’t really good with the whole talking thing and living alone with nothing but animals for company hadn’t given him much practice in that aspect.

But staring at her now, he couldn’t ignore the guilt that swept through him and abruptly he felt like an ass for denying her the simple pleasure of idle chatter. It wasn’t like talking really required that much effort, and he didn’t want to make her feel like she was a burden after the nightmare she’d been through, or like she was an annoyance. On the contrary, Inuyasha liked having her around, which was strange because he also liked his solitude, but he didn’t dwell on it too long. If she was looking for a distraction to keep her from thinking about previous events, he’d do his best to oblige and in the meantime try not to be…well, himself and offend her somehow.

Mind made up, Inuyasha cleared his throat, drawing her attention back to him, and explained, “Rin’s eleven years old, started asking for a pony at about five years, then for her birthday last year her dad finally caved, but with a few stipulations.” He rolled his eyes. “Since she obviously couldn’t keep a damn horse where they live in town, my bastard of a brother pretty must just showed up here with the animal one day, told me it was staying here, no asking involved, then fucking left with no other explanation.” He scowled but Kagome knew it wasn’t directed at her. “He’s such an asshole sometimes I can’t even believe we’re related. If it weren’t for Rin I wouldn’t want anything to do with him.” He snorted, and then growled when Rain shoved her nose next to his face and started nibbling his hair. He swatted her away and the horse snorted in annoyance, stomping her hoof.

“Yeah, yeah, back atcha, ya pissy mare.”

Kagome bit her lip to stifle her giggles. “So…Rin and Rain, huh?”

Inuyasha sighed and rolled his eyes again. “She likes to go around and say ‘I need some R and R time.’”

“That’s adorable,” Kagome remarked and hid her smile behind her coffee mug as she took another sip.

“It’s annoying.”

“I take it she’s watched Spirit a couple of times.”

He snorted at the under-exaggeration.

While Kagome tired not to choke on her coffee as she snickered, Inuyasha shook his head and fought a smile of his own. It was nice to see her looking happy; it was a completely welcome change from last night’s frightened disposition. “Anyway, it was a damn good thing who ever owned this place last apparently had a barn animal because it already had a stall. I just had to spruce it up a bit.” He paused. “After making Sess pay for the supplies.”

“So, you take care of her?”

“No.”

She gazed at him expectantly, clearly waiting for more on the subject, and he inwardly kicked himself for already forgetting his silent vow. Hadn’t he just decided to not be an ass and not be his usual antisocial self for five goddamn minutes? “Rin comes by every morning before school to feed and turn her out, then after school she’ll show up to clean the barn a bit – her payment for boarding her here – feed her again around 5 pm, and if she has the time, take her for a ride. A lot of the time the brat skips mucking her stall, so I’m stuck doing it, but it gives me something to do, so.” He shrugged.

Kagome nodded and watched the brown and white creature as she lowered her head and investigated the water hose filling up the trough. “It’s very nice of you to keep her here for Rin.”

Inuyasha shrugged again. “S’not a big deal. Not like there’s no room for her, and Sess pays for all her expenses. Besides,” he said as Rain nudged his head with her nose and he let out soft sigh as patted her shoulder. “She’s sorta grown on me, and I’m pretty sure Miss Attitude here is attached to me, too.” And as if to prove that point, Rain made a few soft grunting noises and laid her head on his shoulder with a big gusty sigh.

Kagome could completely relate to that. Even after knowing him for only a handful of hours, she was growing attached to him too, and it was a little alarming at how much that didn’t bother her. It should have had warning bells going off in her head, she should be running for the hills at the mere implication that there could be something deeper going on here, but the thing of it was, Kagome didn’t feel threatened at all. Despite being a man of few words, Inuyasha was…easy to talk to. And maybe it was because he didn’t talk much that she was so comfortable around him, but whatever the reason, Kagome felt safe, fully able to relax for the first time in a very long time and she was reluctant to give that up.

The Paint mare suddenly lifted her head and snorted in agitation, shaking her mane once and flicking her tail. Inuyasha frowned but the playful growl he heard next answered his silent question and he rolled his eyes. Jax had crawled through the fence and was currently doing his most favorite pastime of provoking the poor horse, running around her legs and nosing under her belly.

Kagome giggled behind her coffee mug. “I see what you meant now when you said he likes to pester her.”

Inuyasha stared at his dog like he was a lost cause. “He probably ain’t ever gonna stop, either, because Rain never hurts him. The most she’ll ever do is shove him down with a rough head-butt and chase him around, but Jax loves it because he thinks she’s playing with him. And in a way, she sorta is. Despite what it looks like, they’re best buds.”

Rain snorted again and pranced around before backing up and nudging Jax’s side with her big nose. The dog released a few excited, playful growls and zipped underneath her again and then the chase was on, Rain swinging her big body around and taking off after him.

Kagome watched them go with a fond smile and would have been content to stand there all morning in companionable silence with him, but then Inuyasha cleared his throat and she glanced over at him curiously. She wasn’t prepared to be met with intense amber eyes gazing at her and her heart skipped a beat in her chest as a soft flush stole across her cheeks.

He studied her quietly for a moment, the brim of his cap shadowing his eyes but she could still feel the way they bore into her own. “How you feeling?” he finally asked, his voice a low rumble that caused a not-so-unpleasant shiver to crawl along her spine.

Regathering her scattered wits, Kagome sucked in a breath and gave him a smile. “I’m…much better today, thank you.”

He visibly relaxed and gave a short nod, relieved. Then quiet reigned once again and so he didn’t feel so awkward just standing there silently, Inuyasha strode the few paces over to the side of the barn and twisted the knob to cut off the water.  He started rolling the hose back up, thinking he still needed to get some hay down from the loft—

“Kagome.”

Inuyasha snapped his head up and stared at her in open surprise.

She blushed and ducked her head. “My name is Kagome. I’m…sorry I never told you last night. I guess I just…” She trailed off and fiddled with the lukewarm mug of coffee in her hands, staring down into the dark liquid.

“Don’t.”

Kagome blinked and lifted her gaze back to his. “Huh?”

He wasn’t looking at her as he coiled the hose with practiced ease, hooking the length under his elbow and winding it around. “Don’t be sorry for not telling me. After the hell you went through, you deserved a little anonymity.” He slid the neat coil of hose off his arm and draped it over the metal hook.

Kagome’s eyes widened slightly and then a smile slowly curved her mouth. “I…suppose you’re right. I never really thought of it that way.”

“Hard to think about much of anything after—” Abruptly he cut himself off and shot her a slightly panicked look.

Her smile turned sad and she shook her head. “Yeah. I suppose I had more than enough reason to be distracted.”

Relieved he apparently hadn’t fucked up by saying the wrong thing, Inuyasha nodded. Now that the subject was breeched, however, he was reminded of the phone call he’d made earlier. “I called the nearest tow company this morning,” he started. “Gave them the location of your car, and they told me they’d have a truck out there within the next hour or so. That was”—he checked the time on his phone—“just about an hour ago, actually, so I should be getting a call back soon.”

Kagome wondered why the good news didn’t lift her spirits. “I see,” she said and stared down into her now cold coffee. “I guess…I’ll be out of your hair soon, then.” A pang went through her chest and though she tried to tell herself she didn’t understand it, Kagome knew why she was suddenly feeling so…empty.

For some reason those words elicited an achy hollow feeling in the middle of his chest and Inuyasha absently rubbed the spot, suspecting why he suddenly felt thus, but refusing to admit it, even to himself.

Falling quiet, Kagome watched him walk back over and stack up the buckets he washed out earlier. Her smile faded and a tight knot of anxiety formed in her chest. Inuyasha had been nothing but considerate toward her, unbelievably patient, had even opened up his home to her, and here she was not even having the decency to be honest with him. She’d wanted to repay him for all of his kindness somehow, and she supposed she could start with telling him everything that had happened. He deserved nothing less after what he’d done for her.

“Inuyasha,” she started but when she looked up she couldn’t find him anywhere. She frowned and opened her mouth to call for him again, but a nearby “In here” had her walking forward and ducking into the barn through the open side door. Kagome paused because she still couldn’t see him, but then suddenly a bale of hay dropped heavily a few feet in front of her and she jumped in surprise with a quiet gasp. Her half-demon host followed shortly thereafter and landed with a grunt beside the bale. It took Kagome a moment to realize he’d jumped from the loft and not from the rafters.

“That’s handy,” she commented in amusement and thought she saw Inuyasha’s lip kick upward briefly.

“Keh.” He slipped his fingers beneath the twine and heaved it up with little effort before carrying it over to Rain’s stall.

Kagome stared. Weren’t hay bales supposed to be super heavy? He was carrying it like it weighed nothing! “Color me impressed,” she muttered to herself and this time she missed the slight upturn of Inuyasha’s mouth.

“Did you need something, Kagome?” he asked abruptly and then immediately hoped that hadn’t come across as impatient or annoyed. His ears flattened beneath his hat and he cursed himself. Damn, but his people skills sucked. With a little more force than was necessary he yanked a muck rake from the wall and wheeled over a muck bucket.

It must have sounded normal to her, however, because she didn’t look offended, but she did suddenly look…ashamed? Inuyasha frowned and stopped before he entered Rain’s stall. Leaning the rake against the door, he turned to face her fully and leaned back against stall door, hands in his pockets. He wanted to tell her she didn’t need to be ashamed of anything, but waited to see what she would say first.

Seeing that she had his undivided attention, Kagome sucked in a breath and looked him right in his startling amber eyes. “I…owe you an explanation,” she began but Inuyasha was already shaking his head before she could finish.

“You don’t owe me anything, Kagome,” Inuyasha tried to tell her but she wasn’t having it.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I do. You’ve already done so much for me in just the short amount of time I’ve known you, Inuyasha, and the only way I can think to repay you is with complete honesty. I need to tell you…what happened. And I’m not doing this because I feel obligated, or pressured, or anything like that. I want you to know because you deserve the truth after sticking your neck out for me.”

Inuyasha wanted to point out that those two punks hadn’t even been the slightest bit of threat to him but he stayed quiet and waited, allowing her to explain. And despite himself, he was curious, even though he had a feeling he’d end up getting pissed from hearing about how some asshole had purposely hit an innocent woman.

“Before I get to all of that, though, I want to apologize for my behavior last night,” she began and stared down into the dark contents of her coffee mug as she gathered her thoughts. “I wasn’t…myself, and it was like I was…I don’t know, looking at myself from someone else’s point of view, or something. I was there, but not. And I—”

“No.”

Kagome started at his vehement interjection and her mouth parted slightly.

Golden eyes, swimming with something Kagome couldn’t quite identify, burned into her own brown depths so intently she felt her heart stutter in her chest. “Don’t you ever apologize, to me, or anybody else for acting the way you did. What happened wasn’t your fault and I’m pretty damn sure anyone would have acted strangely or different after getting fucking punched in the face from somebody you thought you could trust. So there ain’t nothing to apologize for, you understand me?” He crossed his arms and stared her down, daring her to object and Kagome felt a curious fluttering in her stomach at his passionate reasoning.

And then stupidly she felt like crying because it felt so good to have someone stand up for her and defend her honor. Or something like that. Whatever, Kagome was just so grateful to have met this man, suddenly feeling foolish to have ever doubted or mistrusted him.

Despite her best efforts, her eyes welled up with tears and through blurry vision she watched Inuyasha’s face twist into an expression of panic, his eyes going wide and his entire body tensing. “Aw, shit, no don’t—I didn’t mean—”

“He’s never hit me before,” Kagome admitted, her voice soft and Inuyasha snapped his jaw shut. “For the entire four years we were together, Naraku hadn’t even hinted that he wanted to hurt me, or hit me. He wasn’t even verbally abusive, he wasn’t…he didn’t drink, or have anger issues or anything like that. But…” She hesitated, then sighed and laid it all down. “For the past two years, our relationship had been…well, it wasn’t like it used to be. More fights over stupid things, we hardly showed affection for one another anymore, barely even talked…it was just going downhill.

“I’ve never once felt threatened, though,” she continued. “Or scared, or doubtful. Nothing extreme ever happened to make me want to leave, so this…” She vaguely gestured to her face and Inuyasha forced himself to take in the mottled flesh, feeling familiar anger boil in his gut. “This came out of nowhere. We were getting ready for bed, and he…well, he wanted sex, and I didn’t. So I said no, he got pissed and—” She shrugged. “Maybe it was drugs but I can’t be sure. I mean he had been acting a little strangely the night before, sort of zoning out at odd times, snapping at me for absolutely no reason, and spending an abnormally long time in the bathroom but it was nothing too extreme to make me immediately start thinking, ‘oh my god it’s drugs,’ but I didn’t stick around to ask because I didn’t care. I just knew I needed to leave.

“But anyway,” she continued and lifted a hand to swipe at her eyes, sniffling once. “Right after it happened, Naraku started apologizing, telling me he didn’t know what came over him, it’ll never happen again, you know, all that bullshit. But it was all just noise to me. I walked away and started packing a bag because I’d always told myself that if something like that ever happened to me, I would leave. I didn’t want to be one of those girls who stayed with their abusive boyfriends because if he did it once, he’ll do it again. So I packed, and he kept talking to me, trying to get me to stop, but I ignored him. He didn’t like that so he threw my bag across the room, grabbed me by the throat and shoved me against the wall.” She frowned as her hand came up to flutter her fingertips across the bruised flesh of her neck. “That was when I got scared because he was…he was squeezing and I couldn’t breathe and I remember…God, I remember—”

She cut herself off with a choked sound and Inuyasha had to physically stop himself from wrapping her up in his arms and begging her to stop because this was obviously too hard for her. But he dug his claws to his palms and clenched his jaw so hard it ached. After a moment she composed herself and continued, her voice thick with emotion, “I remember his face…it was terrifying. He—he terrified me. He was a completely different person then, someone I didn’t recognize and I just kept thinking I had to get out of there. Then, like a spell had been lifted or something, his face suddenly cleared and he let go. He looked…horrified at himself but I didn’t stick around to see what would happen next. I grabbed what I’d managed to pack, put on the closest pair of shoes, grabbed my keys, and ran.”

Kagome took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “I didn’t have any place in mind to go. I just…drove. My family lives hours away out of town, my best friend’s shacked up with some guy she met and not answering her phone…I had nowhere to go. And then my car broke down on that back road, those two guys showed up, and if you hadn’t stopped and scared them off—”

“But I did,” Inuyasha cut her off that time and she gasped, her eyes shooting open and locking with his. “And I’d do it again.” Keeping his gaze on hers, he lifted a hand and tenderly wiped away a wayward tear from her cheek with a sweep of his clawed thumb, the urge to touch her too great to ignore.

Kagome released a strangled sound that was half sob, half gasp and grabbed his hand with one of hers, holding on tightly as more tears leaked out of her eyes and streaked down her cheeks.

Inuyasha let her hold his hand for however long she wanted, wishing he could do more, because the sight of her like this was killing him. The temptation to beat the fucker who hurt her into a bloody pulp came back with a vengeance and the growl that erupted from his throat promised all kinds of pain if this no good piece of shit named Naraku ever showed his face to him. He didn’t listen to the little voice in his head telling him that he never would because she was leaving, and instead focused on the young woman before him, his growl turning into a soothing rumble in his chest while his other hand rose to very carefully brush his fingers across the bruise on her jaw.

Caramel-colored eyes fluttered open at the whisper-soft touch and she read the question in those twin pools of sunset yellow. Getting a hold of herself, but not releasing his hand, Kagome mustered up a smile for him and let out a shaky sigh, nodding once.

Though small, he could tell her smile was genuine and he nodded back, his expression softening and without thinking he stroked her cheek. A soft flush colored the skin and his mouth kicked up into a half-grin, both relieved that she hadn’t shied away from his touch, knowing that the last man to touch her hadn’t been so gentle, and extremely gratified that he could make her blush.

Kagome sighed, leaned into his touch, and Inuyasha opened his mouth to say something, anything, but before he could utter a single word the shrill sound of his cell phone ringing pierced the silence between them and the moment was gone.

Inuyasha’s hand dropped and Kagome hastily scrubbed at her cheeks and eyes to rid of the damning evidence as, not without a grumble of annoyance, he fished the mobile out of his pocket and checked the screen.

Sniffling one last time, Kagome lifted her gaze just as Inuyasha accepted the call and held the device up to his face. “Yeah?”

He listened for a minute, and then his eyebrows popped up into the fringe of his bangs before they dipped into a puzzled frown. “What?” He sounded bemused and Kagome’s own brows furrowed slightly. Who was he talking to? “Yeah, I’m positive.” Pause. “Are you sure? Nothing’s there?” Whoever was on the other line must have answered in the affirmative because Inuyasha’s expression darkened and a growl erupted from his throat. “Shit. Yeah, alright. No, I believe you.” There was another pause, and then his eyes cut to hers. “Don’t worry about it. Thanks, Hachi.” He hung up, stared at his phone with that frown still in place, and then pocketed it again with a sigh.

Beyond curious now about that peculiar exchange, Kagome ventured, “Inuyasha? What was that all about? Is everything okay?”

Inuyasha stared hard at her for a moment and then revealed, “That was Hachi. He owns Tanuki’s Towing.”

A wave of foreboding washed over Kagome and she stiffened. “Did-did he…”

“Your car is gone, Kagome.”

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