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jomiddlemarch · 6 months

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Reality has no place in our world

“Mom, stop. You can’t do this,” Rory said. She didn’t fold her arms in front of her chest or glare, two gestures Lorelai herself might have chosen to accompany giving an order, but then Rory was a better person that Lorelai would ever be and also, not nearly as accomplished at glaring; unlike Lorelai, she hadn’t spent the formative years of her facial expression life under the tutelage of Emily Gilmore and neither Luke nor Michel every gave Rory a hard time.

Rory didn’t look angry or exasperated or impatient. She looked a little frustrated, a little tired, and mostly, disappointed. Christ, it was so early, the sky still the dull dark of the moonless hour before dawn, and she’d already made Rory give her that look, the one that wasn’t a glare, and speak in that tone.

“Do what? The cha-cha?” Lorelai shuffled a bit, shimmying a lot more. “Wake up before my alarm—check. Face the future without fear? On it—”

“You can’t leave Max. You can’t run away the day before your wedding,” Rory said. “You can’t do that to him.”

“No?” Lorelai said, as if she was going to add Try me or watch me or you’re not the boss of me, when it came out sounding like a real question and she was open to alternate suggestions, which as she said it she realized was, in fact, the truth.

“No. You can’t. Whatever’s going on inside your head, you can’t be that mean to him, to just leave. You can’t be cruel because you’re freaking out,” Rory said. “You’re freaking out, right?”

“So, I’m mean and cruel? Did you forget nasty?” Lorelai said, crossing her own arms in front of her. Someone ought to and it didn’t seem like Rory was going to. She carefully avoided answering the freak-out question, though it didn’t take a world-class genius to raise the hypothesis.

“I didn’t say any of that and you know it. This isn’t some cute rom-com, where you can ditch the guy at the altar and then there’s some montage of a roadtrip or a bunch of zany, over-caffeinated high-jinks,” Rory said.

“That sounds better than this,” Lorelai said. “A lot better. What’s the soundtrack?”

“It’s not. It’s not real,” Rory replied, ignoring her attempt at deflection. “You have to call Max. You have to talk to him, before you decide to do whatever you decide to do.”

“I do?” They both heard the reference to wedding vows and Lorelai raised an eyebrow. Rory frowned.

“Don’t make this weirder, Mom. Call Max. I’ll get the phone,” Rory said.

“Okay. Fine. You’re obviously not going to let this go,” Lorelai said. Was she a little relieved that Rory had called out her imminent scarpering? Around 23% seemed fair.

“I’m not,” Rory agreed. “You’ll thank me for it.”

“Don’t press your luck, kiddo—"

She called.

Max answered on the second ring, his voice the kind of growly that meant she’d woken him, which wasn’t a huge surprise because it was still hovering around 5 am. They didn’t talk for long. She asked him to come over and he said he’d be there in 20 min without asking any questions why, which was big of him given the time and date and she knew she herself would have expected some kind of explanation and probably would have taken more like 40 min to get to his apartment, because she damn well would have made a travel-mug of coffee even if she was heading over in yesterday’s jeans and the first tee-shirt she could put her hands on.

With only 20 min, she made a pot of coffee and put on fresh jeans. She didn’t change her tee-shirt. The coffee had been Rory’s idea. Lorelai recognized Rory was looking for other ways to keep her from bolting besides guilt and that coffee, naturally, was the best available approach. Lorelai sat at the kitchen table and waited for Max, letting Rory be the one to open the front door and then take herself off to Babette’s, since it was too early for anywhere else to be open.

“What’s wrong?” Max said, sitting across from her, a mug of coffee in front of him, untouched. Lorelai herself was also untouched, Max forgoing a hug or a kiss or even his hand on her shoulder or pushing back the loose hair by her cheek. She couldn’t be bitter about it, but she was, a little, even though she knew she was being unreasonable.

“Why do you think something’s wrong?” she countered, as if this would be some kind of ordinary sparring, like whether Al’s food could ever truly be called Chinese or if Brandy was a good name for a dog.

“Why do I—it’s 5:23, you called and asked me to come right over. There’s no good news you deliver that way,” he said, pretty calmly given that he could well be deeply frustrated, annoyed or outright enraged at her dancing around. He hadn’t even gotten to see her cha-cha.

“Maybe I do, maybe that’s something you don’t know about me—”

“Lora, enough,” he interrupted and she couldn’t have said whether it was hearing the nickname only he ever used or the brevity, just two words, or the tenderness in his voice, in his tired, dark eyes, but something in her broke.

“I don’t think I can marry you,” she said.

“Okay,” he said. “Why couldn’t you wait to tell me?”

“Okay? Okay?!” she repeated, screeching if she were being honest with herself, which is what this whole thing has been supposed to be about.

“I didn’t mean I was happy to hear you say it. It was an acknowledgement, nor approval. Why couldn’t you wait until actual morning?” he said.

“I wasn’t planning this.” She took a sip of her coffee. It wasn’t as good as Luke’s but that was nothing new.

“You weren’t planning this—” he paused, looking at her with a degree of acuity that made her want to flee. Or squirm. She gripped the handle of the mug and hoped it wouldn’t break off in her hand. They sat there for like forever or 47 seconds, she couldn’t be sure. “This wasn’t your idea. This was Rory’s idea, us talking, she’s the only person you’d do this for—”

“I’d do it for you—”

“No, you wouldn’t,” he said. “You were going to leave. You were going to leave me a day before the wedding.”

Well, she’d known he was intelligent and good at reading her and quick, so fucking quick, that was why she’d fallen in love with him—

“Were you going to write a note? Call?” he asked. Lorelai sat, feeling lumpish and pathetic and all betrayal-y, and didn’t say a word. Max closed his eyes for a moment and let out a breath. “You weren’t going to do anything. You were going to run away and someone else was going to have to tell me. To deal with everything.”

“Sookie would’ve called you,” Lorelai said. She tried not to mumble, though she really felt like mumbling, more than she’d ever want to mumble in her whole life.

“You’d have called her from wherever you went,” Max said. “She’s making the wedding cake.”

“Five tiers,” Lorelai said. “All buttercream frosting. She has a thing against fondant.”

“It tastes like shit,” he said. It was quiet between them, so quiet a bird could have twittered or sung its cute little morning song so they could share a smile or the eye-part that went with a smile without actually moving their lips, but it was quiet and she wondered if Max would get up and walk out.

“What’s wrong, Lora?” he said softly, which was a far cry from stomping out or shouting or making a snide, sarcastic remark about her, which were all the responses she would have expected from the other men in her life, Luke, her father, and Christopher respectively, and for the first time, she felt her eyes fill with tears.

“I don’t think I can do it. I’m not—you won’t want, I, I didn’t look at my dress every night,” she said in a rush.

“Is that a thing? Looking at your dress every night?” he said.

“My mother says it is.”

“But you think she’s wrong about almost everything,” he said. He made a good point.

“She said she wanted to, that’s how she knew she wanted to get married,” Lorelai said.

“Maybe that’s not how you’d know,” Max said. “In fact, I would bet good money that it’s not how you’d know, because I know you like your dress but it’s not even a distant second to coffee in your regard.”

“I don’t deserve you,” Lorelai said.

“Have you ever thought you don’t have to? That we don’t care about each other because it’s something we deserve, but because I want you and you want me?” he said.

“You don’t want me,” she said, before she could think twice, could stop herself or figure out something that would come after, some explanation about how there was a much better woman out there for him and he shouldn’t get derailed by her. She didn’t want to be his trainwreck.

“Don’t tell me what I want,” he snapped, then rubbed his face with his hand. “I’m sorry, this is hard. But I know what you expect. You expect me to walk out, plus or minus lashing out at you first.”

“What—”

“It’s what Christopher does. He leaves. It’s what Luke does. He walks away, he shuts down. It’s what you father does. He scolds you and he stalks out,” Max said. “Lora, I’m not going to do that.”

“But why?” she said. “Why not?”

“Because I love you. Because if loving you, I need to leave you, I’m not leaving like that,” he said.

“I was going to,” she said, almost under her breath.

“I know. But you listened to Rory and she wouldn’t let you,” he said and then he scrunched up his forehead in a way that was unfairly adorable. “She’s very insightful. And not here—is she next door at Babette’s?”

Lorelai could count on one hand the number of times Christopher had ever expressed concern about where Rory was, who was looking after her, or uttered a smidgen of praise that wasn’t of the generic “so pretty so smart” variety.

“Yeah, she’s next door,” Lorelai said. “I still don’t think we should get married.”

“I know about Luke,” Max said. Lorelai suddenly understood the expression knocked over with a feather, though she didn’t know who was keeping feathers around for such a purpose. She felt herself goggle at Max and knew it was not her most attractive look, but needs must.

“What do you mean, you know about Luke?”

“He hand-carved a chuppah for you to get married beneath. I can recognize when someone else cares about you. You never asked, but he must have,” Max said.

“Must have asked what?”

“He knows you’re not Jewish. He found out I am and he built a chuppah for you,” he said. “It sure as hell wasn’t for me.”

“You’re Jewish?”

“Yeah,” he said. “My mother’s side. The side that counts. She was a Cohen before she married my father.”

“I had no idea—”

“I didn’t fall in love with you for your astonishing attention to detail and detective skills,” Max said. “I’m in love with you and I know Luke loves you and you love him, but are you going to throw away what we have when I’m not asking you to give him up?”

“What are you saying, Max?” Lorelai shook her head. “Despite what my mother thinks of me, I’m not…kinky.”

“Wow, that is a whole other conversation,” he said, laughing, which was not something she’d had on her bingo card for the discussion about breaking an engagement at the last minute. “I meant, you don’t have to stop caring about Luke, I don’t expect that. I don’t expect him to stop loving you—if there’s anything I can understand, it’s loving you. But not as a husband. Not as Rory’s stepfather—I want that and he doesn’t—”

“How do you know he doesn’t?” Lorelai said. It was the second time this night-into-morning that she’d said something that was intended as a challenge and realized she’d just asked a question of someone she trusted more than herself.

“Because you’ve lived here for over ten years and he’s never said anything, for all the breakfast, lunches and dinners he’s made for you. He’s never asked you out on a date or stayed for pizza or Al’s. He’s never been the one who ran out to the pharmacy to get Tylenol when Rory spiked a fever or needed posterboard for a school project at the last minute,” Max said.

“Rory has never needed a school supply at the last minute,” Lorelai said.

“He’s never made the cupcakes for the bake sale. Sookie did that and she still does,” Max said. He pushed his coffee mug away and left his right hand palm up on the table top. She’d held that hand, felt it cupped around her cheek, pressed against the small of her back and the curve of her ass. It was unclear whether she’d ever touch him again and she wished she could read the future in the creases and lines being picked out by the early morning sunlight.

“Look, I’m not telling you you have to marry me and it’s not a contest and it’s not a guilt-trip. I’m only saying that I love you and I think you love me and what you’re worried about, about needing to choose, about not caring in the right way, the right amount, I think it’s bullshit. It’s partly your mother’s fucking bullshit and some of it is societal expectations and some is your own stuff going back to Christopher and the teenage rebellion that turned into being a teen mom. I want you to be happy, to do what makes you happy, but I want you to know where I stand. What I can live with. You’ll never stop loving Luke and Christopher will always be Rory’s father and I am okay with that, with all of that. Because I fucking love you, Lora.”

“I love you too,” she said. “But maybe, I don’t know if it’s the right way—”

“When has doing anything the right way ever mattered to you?” he replied and she had to laugh because it was true and because he understood her enough to know it and say it.

“I’m not sure it’s enough,” she said.

“What is enough? Is a thousand yellow daisies enough? Is agreeing to call me at 4:53 enough?” he pushed. “This isn’t a rom-com, it’s real life. And we’re not both sixteen, we’re adults. Let me ask you, why did you call me today? I know if was Rory’s idea but you did it, you could have refused, you could be driving to God knows where right now—”

“I wanted to,” she said. “I wanted to hear your voice. I didn’t call because I felt like I owed it to you. I’m not that good a person.”

“I want to talk to you first thing in the morning,” Max said. “I don’t ever want it to be too early.”

“What about too late?” Lorelai said. She’d done a fair job of royally fucking things up for all his protestations to the contrary. The caffeine and sun might be hitting him, he might think twice about sticking around.

“No such thing,” he said. He didn’t move, so she let go of her coffee and put her hand in his. “But maybe you want a new dress?”

“I can’t get a new dress the day before the wedding, Max,” she said, already thinking of that sweet little number she’d seen in a consignment store window in Hartford, all nipped in waist and Givenchy New Look attitude and the look Max would give her if she were walking toward him in it. She thought of Max watching her come closer and Luke watching her walk away until she was in the shadow of the chuppah he’d built. She thought it was impossible and that she’d heard worse ideas and not just from Kirk on any topic.

“Says who?”

She wore the new, second-hand dress.

Max stomped a glass wrapped in a cloth napkin in lieu of a rabbi.

She didn’t take his name. In the receiving line, Luke kissed her cheek and called her Lorelai. Cutting Sookie’s masterpiece (Every tier a different flavor! Homemade quince preserves! Candied white violets!), she didn’t notice the weight of her wedding ring, but she couldn’t look away from the gold band on Max’s hand.

When she woke in the night from a dream full of dread, regret, the terrible mixture of mistake and failure, that hand lay gently on her hip and when she grew too tense, he murmured what’s wrong, Lora and then she could go back to sleep.

#gilmore girls #gilmore girls AU fic #lorelai gilmore/max medina #romance #angst #rory to the rescue #sookie st james #christopher hayden #luke danes #early morning conversations #there is coffee of course #domestic #fix-it fic #wedding dresses #max lays it on the line

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winnie-the-monster · 10 months

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🥺🥺🥺🥺

#gilmore girls #s7 #7x10 #rewatch #lorelai gilmore #luke danes #lorelai x luke #luke x lorelai #I like to pretend that is a AU when they got married and had a baby #and we’re just happy

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scoopsgf · 2 years

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i just wanna say i really appreciate you making the danes family explicitly jewish in your fics. it always annoyed me how luke would constantly use yiddish words and phrases and carved lorelai a chuppah but asp would never make it clear he’s jewish. it’s small but it’s very personal to me and luke and jess always gave off that energy

EXACTLY!! i really don’t understand why she never stated in canon that they were jewish? but there’s so much pointing toward it so it’s not as if im reaching or anything. anyways yes i fully agree! i love the beauty and dimension that it brings to their characters and my fics <3

#asks #emmeriex #gilmore girls #jess mariano #luke danes #sometimes i think about jess and paris lighting the menorah in the window of her durfee dorm #in the yale au and i just… fucking weep #frosted windowpanes and flickering candleflame and the two of them whispering in hebrew…. FUCK

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anxiouspotatorants · 1 year

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Finally: since the rest of the world is allowed to vote this year, including the US (yes I have my qualms about this too) it’s time to ask ourselves who we think different Gilmore Girls characters would vote for... and if they would vote at all:

Lorelai: Much to Rory’s dismay, Lorelai probably votes for Poland. But her heart is set on Belgium, Austria, Albania and Armenia. And Sweden because hello Loreen. Lorelai has a big heart, okay?

Rory: She might throw a vote to Lithuania. Then she’ll also vote for Austria, Sweden, and Portugal because Paris forces her to.

Luke: Lorelai forces him to vote for Germany. He votes for Ukraine of his own volition.

Lane: Lane votes for Germany, Finland, Spain, Austria and Czechia. Possibly Slovenia if she’s in the mood for conventional pop-rock in Slovene. But definitely Ukraine.

Paris: She’s voting for Portugal because of course. She’ll roast everything else but still vote for Belgium because the does melt her heart a little.

Jess: Lorelai’s convinced he would vote for Serbia but the gaming aesthetic just isn’t for him. And besides, Jess has no intention of voting. Until Rory explains what Croatia’s deal is this year.

Dean: Dean does not vote for Eurovision at all. He did, however vote in Americavision. Probably for one of those mopey bearded guys with ballads, like Maine or Rhode Island.

Logan: Logan probably doesn’t vote at all unless Finn or Odette force him to. But he’s more likely to accidentally crash a Eurovision watch party when he feels like going out for drinks and just see what happens.

Sookie: Sookie definitely votes Belgium. Plus Italy and Czechia because she likes the songs.

Liz: Liz likes Albania. She’ll give that a vote. And Moldova because of the ren faire rave vibes.

TJ: He’s voting Australia. He likes that they got a car on stage. Also Moldova because ren faire rave vibes.

Miss Patty: Miss Patty votes Cyprus because she likes the guy. Plus Norway for the beat, Israel for the dancing and Finland for the exposed chest.

Babette: Shes voting France for the dramatic flare, Cyprus because she finds the guy pretty and sweet, and Slovenia because she thinks the boys look like they’re having a good time.

Taylor: If he gives in to fomo, Taylor votes for Switzerland.

Kirk: Kirk is going to try to vote for the intermission act. When that doesn’t work he votes Estonia because of the self-playing piano. And Croatia for the tractor-line.

Michel: Michel is for once throwing a vote to his home country of France, as well as Italy because hello Marco Mengoni. And Loreen because Loreen.

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carolinemorrison · 1 year

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“Logaaaaan'' Rory moaned, almost animalistically. If it were any other time, she would have been embarrassed that she could make such a sound, but not here, not now, while Logan was nuzzling her neck. Electricity pulsed through her body, the hairs on her arms practically standing on end with all the electrical charge. Everywhere he touched, tingled in a frenzy of static. His hands roamed over her body, grasping bunches of her satin bridesmaids dress, that was quickly becoming more like a belt than a dress.

Logan pulled away, breathless. “Rory, we should. . .”

“Move to the backseat?’ She said smiling slyly, her voice low and husky. His Porsche 911 was small, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

...

Read the newest chapter here:

#gilmore girls #rory gilmore #lorelai gilmore #gilmore #logan huntzberger #luke danes #alexis bledel #lauren graham #matt czuchry #scott patterson #emily gilmore #richard gilmore #logan and rory #rory x logan #logan x rory #gilmore girls fanfiction #gilmore girls edit #gilmore girls season 7 #gilmore girls au

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imyourbratzdoll · 1 year

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𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓, 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒅

🕊️𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭🕊️

summary - little red riding hood (you) heeds the villager's warnings and ends up crossing paths with the big bad wolf.

warning - smut, inter-species, degrading, dirty talk, dubcon, death, stalking, swearing, creampie, choking, slapping, fingering, biting, dacryphilia.

18+ only please, the gif and headers I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

All you had to do was cross through the woods to get to your grandmother’s house. That was all you had to do. It sounded easy, you ignored the warnings from the villagers, and you thought you had this handled. You get dressed in your little white dress, covering yourself with your red hood before gathering your basket of pastries and fruits. You smiled as you passed the villagers, heading through the path that entered the dark, creepy woods. You ignored their worried whispers, too focused on getting where your grandmother was.

You giggle, smiling at all the pretty butterflies that flutter by, and you begin to hum a soft melody. Skipping along the path, not feeling the air become cold or noticing the animals that start to scatter, you are too oblivious to see how dark and creepy the woods begin to become the deeper you walk into them. Such an innocent little thing you were. Too bad the big bad wolf was going to destroy that.

Luke lurked, spying on you from behind the shadows, licking his lips as he caught sight of your pretty little dress underneath that beaming red hood. He sneaked and crept, following behind you with caution. Luke grinned, his sharp canines prodding his lips, his glowing yellow eyes following you, preying on you. He could pounce at any moment, and you’d never expect a thing. Luke stretches his hands, feeling his claws come out slowly, desperately wanting to claw into you as he fucks you into the ground. His cock grows, hardening the more he watches you, the more Luke thinks about what he wants to do to you. His cock strains against his pants, and his swollen tip leaks with pre-cum. A growl slips from his lips, and he watches you halt, looking around slowly.

You didn’t know what that was. Could the villagers be right? Was there an actual beast in these woods? Did you brush off their warnings when they were only caring for you? Was everyone right? Were you really the dumb little thing in their village? You couldn’t be? You were smart… You were sure of it. Your mind raced with thoughts, causing you to forget about the growl or the beast lurking in the shadows. You shrugged, wondering why you had stopped before beginning on your merry way, skipping again with a ditzy smile. Only to be stopped again, staring widely at a large man standing before you, his bright yellow eyes staring at you with hunger.

Luke licks his lips, “What are you doing out here, little red?” He tries to make his voice as friendly as possible, not wanting to scare you away.

You smile, rocking on your heels. “I’m on my way to see my grandma! Who lives through the forest, near the lake!” You blush, taking in the handsome stranger before you notice the sun going down much faster than expected. “Oh, shoot! I’m sorry, mister! But I’m running late!” You shoot him a small smile before hurrying along. Luke’s nostrils flare as your scent enters his senses.

Luke chuckled, shaking his head at your stupidity. He smirked as a plan formed in his head, giving you one last look before he hurried through the shortcut and appeared at your grandmother’s house. What better way of getting you than pretending to be the one you love? He knocked, straightening to his seven to eight feet height, grinning wide with his pretty sharp teeth showing. The moment the poor little older woman opened the door, he pounced, swallowing her whole before heading inside, checking to see if he looked clean before Luke walked over to the bed, stripping from his clothes, giving his cock a few tugs before he got under the covers. Luke chuckled to himself, knowing you weren’t too far behind.

You skipped to her door, beaming with happiness at finally seeing her again. Your little hand knocks on the door, rocking on your heels as you wait patiently for her. “Who is it?!” You giggle.

“It’s me, grandma! Y/n!”

Luke smirks, “Oh, how lovely! Do come in, my dear!” You smile, entering her home and placing the basket of food on the small table nearby before you untie your hood and carefully place it on the hook. You turn and slowly make your way over to her bed, wondering why her eyes are yellow instead of her standard colour, and with a worried look, you sit beside her and rest your hand on her arm above the covers.

“Grandma! Your voice sounds so odd, is something the matter?” You question, gnawing your lip as you check over her.

“Oh, I just have a touch of a cold.” Luke fakes a cough, licking his lips as he eyes you. The blanket slowly moved down to show off some of his face, silently sending thanks to the universe for making the lighting so dark.

Your brows furrow, tilting your head slightly as you notice some of your grandma’s changed features. “But grandma! What big ears you have.” You edge closer, extremely worried for your grandmother.

“The better to hear you with, my dear.”

“But grandma! What big yellow eyes you have….” You shiver, feeling a chill roll down your spine at the sight of them staring deep into your soul.

“The better to see you with, my dear.” Luke feels pre-cum leak from his swollen tip, soaking the flowery bedsheets. His fingers twitch. He’s so close to having you under him, tearing you apart with his massive cock.

Your eyes slowly move down the bed, noticing the large tent forming. “But grandma! What… A big tent? You have.” Your gaze slowly moves back up and connects with his eyes, swallowing the saliva that builds up in your mouth.

Luke smirks, throwing the blanket back and wrapping a clawed hand around your delicate throat, turning and pushing you into the bed. “The better to fuck you with, my dear.” He sneers, pressing his stiff cock into your soft legs. He squeezes, staring with a dark glint as you struggle to breathe. “What a dumb little girl you are. Don’t you know that the woods aren’t safe for dumb little things like you?”

You stare at him with wide eyes, squirming as you feel something wet poking your inner thigh. “Y–You, you're the man from before….” You whimper, your eyelids flutter as his grip tightens, feeling slick pool between your thighs.

Luke grins, his cock twitching as the smell of your arousal hits him. “Yes, I am, little red.” He leans closer, nuzzling his face into your neck. “Mmm, you smell delicious, little red. It seems like you want the big bad wolf.” Luke licks the side of your neck, sucking on your sweet spot as his other hand moves up your tiny dress and cups your clothed core. “Did the dumb little baby get wet from mean old me?” He growls, smiling down at you before he swipes his hand across and rips your knickers from your body. His fingers connect with your swollen button, rubbing and flicking it, watching you whither and moan, trying to break free from his grip.

“P–please, I won’t tell anyone!” You cry, swallowing your sobs. You had realised your fate was sealed and that your grandma was gone. Your plump bottom lip wobbles, staring into his sharp eyes, embarrassed that you feel some sort of way underneath the monster. “I–I’ll be good, I swear!” Fat tears fill your eyes before rolling down your puffy cheeks, whimpering as the man leans forward and licks them up.

“Of course, you’ll be good, you dumb baby. It’s the only thing you know how to do.” Luke grows harder from your tears and your whimpers. His fingers pick up their pace before slowly piercing through your tight little hole, curling and thrusting, stretching you out and getting you ready for him. “Don’t worry, little red. I’ll take good care of you.” His thumb rubs your swollen pearl, curling his thick fingers into your sweet spot. Your back arches as pleasured whimpers fall from your lips. Your walls squeeze and pulse around his fingers, juices flowing out of you as you cum. Luke licks his lips, slowly pulling his fingers out of your cunt and bringing them to his lips. “Such a naughty girl, cumming for the big bad wolf like the dumb little thing you are.” A moan falls from his lips as he places his fingers into his mouth, sucking your sweet nectar off them. “So delicious, little red.” He pushes you into the bed, crawling on top of you. “You ever been with a man like me before, little red? Hmm? I bet you haven’t, a sweet little innocent thing like you.” His hand wraps around his throbbing base, swiping his leaking tip against your sopping folds.

Your hands curled into the bedsheets, whimpering when he began to push in. More tears flow down from the pain of his massive cock stretching your tight walls. “H–hurts… Please.” You babble, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues to push through, his fingers rubbing your little clit, growling as your juices leak out and help lube his cock. Your hands fly up, digging your nails into his arms as he sends a sharp thrust deep inside you. “O–oh!” Your vision goes white, and your walls spasm around him wildly.

“Poor little red, you’re so fucking tight.” He growls, snarling down at you. His hands grip your hips, lifting your legs, so they wrap around his waist, plunging harder and deeper inside you. Luke buries his face into your neck, nipping the young flesh with his sharp canines. “You like the feel of me inside of you, little red? Stretching you, claiming you?” He slams into you, chuckling at the small scream that escapes you. Your hands move from his arms to his back, clinging desperately to him as his pace picks up, pounding you into the soft mattress. “You enjoying this, dumb baby? Being used for my pleasure? Hmm?” He growls, holding your hips tighter.

“Uh-huh!” You whine, and your hips slowly move along with his thrusts. Your legs tighten around him, feeling yourself clench around his thick, monstrous cock as he continues to pierce you with it. “S–so big… So full!” Your eyes roll back, whimpering with each thrust, feeling your mind beginning to slip as Luke’s tip slams into your sweet spot, your mouth falls open, and your body becomes numb from the pleasure. You gasp, feeling a sting on your cheek, and your eyes blink open, staring into his glowing yellow ones, noticing the glare he holds as he continues moving inside you. His hips snap, and your head falls back, exposing your neck to the beast.

He leans forward and latches down, biting into the soft flesh and groaning as your walls flutter rapidly around him. A choked gasp escapes you, your back arches, and your vision goes white as your arousal shoots out of you, coating the giant beast. He grunts, feeling you squeeze and pulsate around him, “get ready. I’m going to fill you up with so much cum that it’ll flow out of you for a whole month, my little red.” He growls, pounding as fast and hard into you until his thrusts become sloppy, his heavy sacks begin to tighten, his cock begins to twitch and throb, and his swollen mushroom tip swells deep inside you. “Fuck, tightest little cunt on the dumbest little girl.” He roars as thick amounts of cum shoot out of him and into you, filling you to the brim, feeling it overflow out of you and onto the soft sheets.

Your body sags into the bed, arms falling from his back and legs falling from his waist as your eyes roll to the back of your head, and you pass out. The intense pleasure became too much for someone as tiny as you. Luke huffs, waiting for his knot to soften before he can pull out of you. He looks down at your knocked-out form with a dark glint in his eyes, his clawed hand strokes your cheek, and he grins. “Oh, you poor dumb thing. You have no clue that you’re mine now, forever.” When his knot softens, he slowly pulls out and watches his cum leak from your cunt before he pushes it back in with his fingers. Luke stands, straightening to his standard height as he collects his clothes and gets dressed. He lifts your wrecked body and heaves it onto his shoulder, grabbing your red hood on the way out.

With the slam of your granny’s door, Luke’s dark chuckle fills the creepy woods as he makes his way to his place with you in his arms. You would never be seen again, being added to the tales of the big bad wolf. You would be known as his whore, his wife and the mother of his pups.

You shouldn’t have been so dumb and listened to the villagers’ warnings.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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athingthatwantsvirginia · 2 years

Text

Nurse Fucking Ratched, Part One

PART ONE OF THE PIECES OF THE MIDDLE SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: discussions of illness, guilt, shame, swearing, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 8.2K

Summary: A blizzard hits Stars Hollow and Ella finally convinces Jess to watch Silence of the Lambs.

. . .

November 15th, 2002

Outside, the snow fell in harsh, twinkling sheets. From the moment Jess had risen that morning, the weather had been cloudy and brooding. Part of him was glad he didn’t have to brave the storm and take the bus to Walmart. The bus driver was a nice guy, but sometimes he would do his crossword puzzles while driving. Jess fancied himself a little dangerous, but definitely not enough to put his life in the hands of a well-meaning—albeit, distracted—eighty-year-old man in the midst of a blizzard. Though a reprieve from the monotonous manual labor of the forklift was welcome, the alternative was to suffer the relentless cheeriness of Stars Hollow and work the dinner shift. Both realities were equally exhausting.

And yet, he felt antsy. Energized. He tried to remain absorbed in Ella’s copy of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, but his eyes kept flitting up to the big clock over the front door of Luke’s. It had been a week since he’d turned eighteen, and a week since he’d last seen Ella. He had been taking advantage of his legal adult status and picking up more hours at Walmart when he was technically supposed to be at school. Ella was always in the art room working on projects at lunch anyway. Plus, every moment she wasn’t serving up false grins at Luke’s, she was nose-deep in her statistics textbook. She had a big exam coming up, scheduled for the day before Thanksgiving break. Only then, she had told him, would she be a free bird.

But they were set to close the diner together, Luke busy with inventory or some new stock. Jess had more or less stopped listening after Luke told him he would get a chance to see Ella. The reason didn’t matter. His fingertips were yearning to graze over her skin. For his birthday, she’d driven him out to Hartford and showed him what she called ‘the coolest bookstore in the known universe.’ Jess had lived in New York long enough to see more than his fair share of vintage and gimmicky bookstores. Had he stumbled upon this particular bookstore himself, he would have thought it was nothing special. But Ella’s wonder at the place endeared him to no end. She’d walked in with a big, open smile on her face, and offered a tiny wave to the hippie woman behind the counter as though they were old friends. She’d taken him by the hand and led him up the winding staircase to the second-floor, where the rare copies were kept.

Both of them had been caught up in their own separate explorations of the texts for a moment, touches ghosting over the worn spines. The wood floor was creaky and Jess had been wondering if they would fall right through. He forgot every preoccupation entirely when he saw a second edition copy of Big Sur. It was in considerably less than mint condition and had obviously been a library book for a time. But what was the point of a secondhand book if it didn’t have some character or history? When she’d offered to buy it for him, he’d thought she was joking. Then, when he saw she was serious, he’d vehemently refused. But she wouldn’t budge.

. . .

seven days earlier

“C’mon, Mariano,” she said, waltzing over to him as the ancient boards beneath her groaned in protest. “It’s your birthday. I want to get it for you.”

“You already gave me those CDs,” he argued. The yellowed pages in his hands were precious.

“Those were but a prelude to this main event,” she said, grabbing the book from his hands with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes before he could even realize. Her smile twisted slightly to become a smirk. “You only turn eighteen once. And we are fucking celebrating. I’m buying this for you, because you’re the fucking best.”

“Very eloquent of you,” he said, still incredulous. “That’s over fifty bucks. Seriously, you earned your money. I don’t want you spending it on me.”

Tilting her head at him, Ella narrowed her eyes. Then, after a moment, she cracked the book open to a random passage. She cleared her throat theatrically, and looked at him so pointedly he thought she might be seeing right through him. The waning afternoon sunshine streamed in from the giant arched window behind her and lit her up in golden. Her hair was sparkling, and her cheeks were rosy from the central heating inside the store. She still wore her bulky peacoat, no match against the winter wind. The youthful valor of her face made him feel hopeful and valued in a way he couldn’t bring himself to feel comfortable with.

“You are going to let me buy you this book. And until you agree to that, I will have no choice but to subject you to my dramatic reading of Mr. Kerouac,” she said playfully.

Jess grinned, crossing his arms over his chest and raising his eyebrows in expectation.

She scoffed. He was really going to make her work for it. Ella made good on her promise. She looked him dead in the eye, then back down at the text with gravity. After taking a deep breath, she began in a voice that was somehow both mocking and reverent. She had been smoking like a chimney lately, and Jess could hear it in her words.

“And I shudder sometimes to think of all that stellar mystery of how she is going to get me in a future lifetime, wow—”

She looked back up at him for a moment and quickly swiped her tongue over her bottom lip. The way he was staring at her, like she was the only person in the world, made her heart hammer in her chest. She uttered a bashful little chuckle as she returned her gaze to the book. Her smile widened and she kept reading.

“And I seriously do believe that will be my salvation, too. A long way to go.”

His affection for her was so arresting in that moment, he could’ve died right there and died happy. Before she could continue her recitation, Jess advanced towards her. He brought one hand to her waist and one hand to her cheek, surprising her with a heated kiss. Ella was so startled, she dropped the book. It fell to the side, thumping loudly on the splintered wood. She felt as though she were melting against him. Soon, her fingers were tangled in his hair. Despite the burn in her stomach, the hungry one, the flame that lit every time their lips met, she pulled away, panting. Passion be as it may, she certainly didn’t want to damage a relic of the past.

“Jess, the book-”

“Forget the book,” Jess cut her off, then captured her lips once more, pressing her up against the bookshelf.

He was glad for their privacy, knowing otherwise she would have been embarrassed. Not for the first time since he had arrived in Stars Hollow and met her, Jess felt as though the stars had aligned in his favor. The romance of it all made him feel dizzy and foolish. Then again, Jack Kerouac would never lie to him. The words Ella had just spoken to him must have been true. As he lost himself in her, her taste and the sensation of his skin against hers drowning out everything else, a fleeting thought floated through his mind. It was the best birthday of his life.

. . .

“Where the hell is your girlfriend?” Luke’s annoyed grumble broke through Jess’s reverie.

Jess rolled his eyes and went on reading. His birthday present was tucked away safely in his nightstand. He couldn’t risk someone spilling coffee anywhere near it. “How should I know? She’s perfectly capable of captaining her own ship.”

“Well, her ship is usually here ten minutes early. Now, she’s fifteen minutes late!” Luke said.

Due to the storm, the diner was essentially deserted. Lucky, as the customers usually preferred Ella’s beaming smile to Jess or Luke’s monosyllabic stoicism. There were a few stalwarts—primarily Taylor—who would no doubt show up at a moment’s notice, though, demanding a perfect recreation of their usual order and someone to cater to their every whim. Jess was a lost cause in terms of customer service, and as such he was often in awe of the tirelessness Ella exhibited. He knew it drained her sometimes. Part of what made them so compatible was their shared penchant for comfortable silence. After a shift, she would need a brief listening ear as she vented, and then they would simply sit together and decompress. Just being in the same room was enough; words weren’t always necessary.

“I’ll be sure to let Ahab know that you’re now referring to her as my girlfriend. I’m sure she’ll love being defined by her relationship to a man,” Jess said flatly. His impatience was pulsing beneath his surface, and he was in no mood to deal with Luke’s totalitarian temper.

Luke sighed. In the time since Jess and Ella had become official, he had grown used to feeling outnumbered. When Jess had first arrived, Luke truly believed the two of them hated each other. Looking back, he should have known the moment they started swapping the books. The books he could never understand as a high school student, and sure as hell didn’t understand as a middle-aged man. He didn’t know whether to be proud or scared of their naive thoughtfulness. Still, he felt a distinct affection for each of them. Seeing them together was almost heartening. But the strength of their bond also incensed him to no end.

“Please don’t,” was all Luke could muster. He didn’t need an earful from Ella. Not today. He wasn’t by any means looking forward to inventory later in the evening. And the weather was harsh and biting, sucking the life out of his Friday night dinner rush. He had been more or less in the black for the last few fiscal years. But his stinginess was the only thing keeping him comfortable. He never liked to see the diner empty. His desire to maintain financial stability, especially now that both Jess and Ella were ostensibly under his wing, outweighed his consistent irritation with the patrons.

“No promises,” Jess said.

Suddenly, the bell over the door chimed cheerfully, announcing Ella. Her hair was damp with flurries, and her combat boots were caked with snow. Her nose and cheeks were frosted with pink, dusted with freckles. She shot them a sheepish, close-lipped smile. She rushed to unwind her scarf and shed her coat. She was shivering.

“There she is,” Jess said, straightening in his seat and tilting his head at her with a smirk.

“About damn time,” Luke said. He had his arms crossed over his chest.

Ella was unsure whether his stern stature was directed solely at her or if Jess had pissed him off somehow before she walked in. The latter didn’t seem unlikely, but her stomach was swirling at the knowledge that Luke was disappointed in her. She never liked to break her patterns, especially not in front of the treasured few adults in her life who didn’t despise her. None of them were people she was related to, so she was well aware of the fact that their good graces were conditional. She had to be responsible, hard-working, and mature for her age. If she wasn’t, who would want to be her champion? There would be no point. She had never been too successful at being somebody’s child. Gulping nervously, she hid a wince and went towards the stockroom with her eyes glued to her feet. She couldn’t bear facing the earnestness in Luke’s face. She didn’t want him to think of her as fallible, or (so much worse she could barely even acknowledge the thought) lazy. A leech.

Furrowing his brows, Jess watched Ella trudge back into the stockroom with shame painted on her face. She didn’t acknowledge him at all, cowering under Luke’s gaze. Her silence piqued his curiosity. But there was also something peculiar about the way she was walking, the way she was carrying herself. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Her posture was almost crouched, like she was hiding. Or maybe the weight on her shoulders was just particularly heavy today. He knew the college application process hadn’t exactly been kind to her. As usual, he was more or less clueless about what was going on in her home. Tossing the book aside without remembering to save his place, Jess rose from his spot near the kitchen and followed her. Luke was in the process of starting a fresh pot of coffee. Jess shot a scowl at his uncle as he passed. Luke only rolled his eyes.

Ella had already donned her apron when Jess caught up with her. He leaned against the doorframe, assessing her as she tied up her hair. She looked, for lack of a better word, exhausted. Jess knew she could spread herself pretty thin, but this was something different. Having had enough of his staring, Ella raised her eyebrows at him impatiently as she finished with her hair and went to punch her wrinkled timecard.

“Long time, no see, Stevens,” he said. “You alright?”

The worry in his voice caught Ella aback for a moment. But she tried not to let it show. She only nodded. She clocked in, then made to brush past him and start working. Before she could snake by though, Jess caught her arm with a gentle hand.

Ella sighed heavily, but still said not a word.

“Feelin’ Chaplin tonight, huh?” Jess asked suspiciously. With his free hand, he reached up and placed his palm on her forehead. His eyes widened.

Scoffing, Ella swatted his hand away. But the damage was done.

“Holy shit,” he murmured. “You’re burning up. Did you go to school like this?”

Squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, Ella tried to compose herself. She tried to think of an excuse. Her head was throbbing, pain shooting from behind her eyes to down her neck in vicious bursts. It had been since the moment she opened her eyes that morning. She couldn’t think of a coherent sentence, let alone something savvy enough to fool Jess. She cleared her throat, sniffled, then looked him in the eye again. Her hazel gaze was glazed and glassy.

“Listen-” she began, but immediately stopped short.

At school, she’d made an effort not to say anything, for fear of being sent home. No one, including herself, had heard her all day. She appeared to have misjudged her condition slightly. Instantly, Jess’s face morphed into an expression of utter surprise. Her voice was very nearly gone, words coming out strained and gravelly. The sound alone made Jess’s throat sore.

“I know, I know,” she said, raising her hands in her own defense. “But, I promise, it sounds worse than it is.”

“You honestly expect me to just ignore this?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “You sound like a woodchipper and you look like a Dickensian orphan!”

Ella smiled thinly and narrowed her eyes at him. Her tone was contemptuous, if subdued. “You sure know how to make a girl feel special, don’t you, James Dean?”

This time, she succeeded in pushing past him. Nonetheless, he followed, running an anxious hand over his mouth.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Jess said, hot on her heels.

The main room remained empty, and even in the couple of minutes they had been in back, the snow seemed to be falling ten times heavier, torrential. Ella shivered again, looking at it. Each time she swallowed, she fought a grimace. Her malaise had been maddening all day, slowing her down and clouding her brain. She was certainly not going to let it interfere with her paycheck, though. As she stomped around behind the counter and grabbed the broom, she made a considered effort to ignore Jess. She wanted to take advantage of the lull in customers to tidy up before the dinner shift. In the kitchen, she could hear Luke starting up the grill, a comforting sizzle filling the air. On a normal day, she would have been upset that she couldn’t smell the onions he was prepping. But she thought it might actually be a blessing, given the state of her stomach.

“Seriously, Eleanor,” Jess said in earnest, coming to stop her before she could exit the counter and make her way to the tables.

“Seriously, Jess,” she echoed venomously.

He sighed through his nose, shaking his head. For a moment, they stared each other down, both motionless. Jess maintained eye contact with her, though, as he raised his voice to his uncle. “Hey, Luke, we got any chicken soup left?”

“What?” Luke called from behind the stove warily. He was already running behind, and Ella being late had done nothing to help him. Taking any sort of bait from Jess was not something he wanted to entertain, but he found himself turning down the gas so he could hear anyway.

“Chicken soup. We’re gonna need some. Eleanor’s temperature is about to reach boiling point, I’d say,” Jess said, watching Ella’s jaw tense.

“You dirty fucking traitor,” she whispered, ever dramatic. “Hey! Language!” Luke said, jumping into scold mode yet again as he turned the heat off and emerged, eyeing Ella in exasperation. “What’s wrong with you today?”

Under Luke’s questioning, she faltered. She was at a loss for words. No matter what, she would give herself away. It dawned on her that there was not a chance in hell he was actually going to let her work. And that meant trouble in more ways than one. Dread sunk into her gut and exacerbated her unease. She looked over her shoulder at Luke and then back at Jess. After biting her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment, she sighed again and Jess saw her facade crack.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,” she began, pivoting so she could look at Luke. “You really do have a bionic ear, boss.”

Luke’s face softened. “Jeez, you sound terrible,” he said, putting his hands on his hips. He appraised her appearance. “You can’t serve food like this. Go home.”

“Can’t you just put me on dish pit or something?” she asked, cheeks flushing deeper. “Please?”

“No,” Jess chimed in.

“I didn’t ask you, jackass!” Ella snapped.

“You really think the dishes will get clean if you’re the one washing them?” Luke said.

“Ouch,” she said, uttering a humorless chuckle. “When did this become an inquisition?”

“I’m sorry, Ella. I am,” Luke said. “But you’re a walking health code violation. I can’t have that. You gotta go.”

She nodded dejectly. She felt silly for ever believing it would be a good idea to waitress with a cold. What kind of morals did she have, to jeopardize public health? She could only imagine what Taylor would say if she spread whatever she had to him. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility for her face to end up on the front of the Stars Hollow Gazette, a town pariah named typhoid Mary. She knew what Jess and Luke were probably thinking. She was desperate. And irresponsible. And useless. She suddenly bypassed Jess again, heading in the direction of the stockroom. “Fine. I’ll go clock out.”

“I’m sorry, Ella,” Luke repeated. He didn’t have a choice.

“No, I’m sorry. It was stupid of me to even walk in here. I’ll go. I have homework to do, anyway,” she said, features drawn with guilt, then disappeared. The second she was out of sight, she started coughing into her elbow. At least she wasn’t under their prying, pitying stares, but of course they could hear it. She had been doing her best to keep it at bay. At least in that she had been mildly successful.

Jess shook his head again. He could hear that the cough was in her chest. He crossed his arms defiantly and raised his eyebrows at Luke.

“What now?” Luke groaned. He didn’t have time for this. When had so much of his life become devoted to standing around and arguing with two teenagers? It seemed like all he did anymore.

“You’re gonna send her out there when she sounds like that?” Jess asked, gesturing to the storm through the windows. Already, the entire town square was bathed in white. The sidewalks were invisible. It appeared all the tourists had vacated in advance of the true New England weather. The snow was pristine, untouched, nary a footprint to be found. Jess’s mouth was set in a thin line and he was staring daggers. But there was a genuine quality to his words that perplexed Luke. He couldn’t recall a time when Jess had shown such sincere concern for another person before. Jess and Ella had only been dating a couple months. Luke hadn’t expected the feelings to be so developed. Granted, his only other frame of reference was the fling with Shane.

Luke sighed once more. Not that he was ever going to admit it out loud, but Jess was right. It would be cruel to make her walk home in the storm. And, moreover, to send her home. It didn’t cross Luke’s mind once to call Ella’s father. Even if Jake was decent enough to come pick up his sick daughter, he certainly wasn’t going to do anything beyond that once they returned to the little blue house. And Luke knew Ella too well to assume she would actually rest in favor of her homework. Had Lorelai not called only an hour ago to say they were already snowed in at her parent’s house in Hartford, he would have driven her straight over to the Gilmore house. Ella’s eyes were watery from her coughing fit as she returned and headed for the coat rack. Luke made up his mind. His parental improv would have to do.

“Ella?” Luke said, hands on his hips again, despite his apprehension.

“Hm?” she hummed, eyeing him in askance. She made her hands busy with putting on her coat and scarf.

“Go upstairs,” he said.

“What?” she croaked.

“You can’t walk home in this storm. You’ll get pneumonia,” he said.

Ella scoffed. “That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?” she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “I’m a big girl, Luke. I made it here from school. I don’t need rescuing. I’ll be just fine.”

“Just give it up, Daria,” Jess interjected.

“Bite me, James Dean,” she replied.

“I’ll make you some soup and bring it up in a little while. Take it easy, alright?” Luke said.

Glancing between the two of them, Ella felt her stomach churn with nerves. She didn’t want to go home, of course, but she wanted to sit around and wallow in her illness even less. The idea of Luke or Jess tending to her made her more nauseous than she already was. Wrestling with the idea of either running out the door before they could stop her, or maybe even spending the night on Rory’s porch with the unfounded hope that they would somehow find a way home from Hartford, she began to feel dizzy. There was no winning; not this time. No matter where she went, she would feel like shit. Heaving a resigned sigh, she looked down at her boots.

“Well, I’m flattered that you’ve both given me so much choice in the matter,” she muttered.

Jess smirked fondly. Then, he sauntered over to her and held out his hand. She raised her eyebrows at him for a moment, making no moves to grab it. Luke shook his head at her petulance, and tried to ignore the nostalgia touching his heart. Often, flashes of her as a child would pop up in his field of vision, distorting time and making him yearn in a way he found infuriating and uncomfortable. He experienced the same phenomenon with Rory every now and again. But with Ella, it was more frequent. Especially since she’d started working at the diner, and even more since Jess moved in, Luke was really starting to understand his age. They were growing up right before his eyes, and in some ways the reminders of what once was were welcome. In this case, sobering might have been the word. Ella could be so self-sufficient sometimes, he could forget that she needed just as much attention as a troublemaker like Jess, even if she didn’t act out. Being late was basically Ella’s version of stealing a gnome, though the question of intentionality definitely differed. When he looked at her, he glimpsed a towheaded four-year-old with strep throat, attached to her mother’s hip. Ella’s mother picking up coffee on the way to the doctor, eyes stressed but face assured and calm. Even then, Ella had been obstinate, arguing with her mother in a tiny, almost elfish, voice.

“Just go get some sleep, kid. We’ll all still be here when you wake up,” he said.

Ella faced him again, not startled, not mystified, not exactly. But his tone of voice had been so parental she couldn’t ignore or hide her surprise. He sounded worried. Luke had already spent so much time and energy worrying about her. She couldn’t prolong it wilfully. She swallowed, and let the wince show clearly in her features. Then, she nodded. And begrudgingly, she gripped Jess’s hand. He squeezed gently and began leading her toward the stairs.

“Alright. That’s the last I want to see of both of you until after I close. I’ve done enough client resolution for the week. I don’t need any more. And no funny business with her, Jess. She needs sleep,” Luke warned, pointing a finger at his nephew.

Jess frowned, and when he spoke his voice was acerbic. “Jeez, Uncle Luke. Glad you see me in such a positive light.”

Luke rolled his eyes as they passed, but then began to shoo them faster with the rag in his hand. “I can see Taylor through the window. Hurry the hell up!”

. . .

“Feel any better?” Jess called from the tiny kitchen as he heard Ella open his bathroom door. He poured scalding water into a Cubs mug, and instantly the smell of ginger invaded the apartment.

“Yeah,” she replied, thready and tired. But she had to admit, she was way more comfortable in Jess’s Tool t-shirt and sweatpants than the outfit she’d worn to school, which she now held in her hand, folded and damp with frost. She went over to the rack by the door to stuff the clothes in her bag.

“Good.” Jess was fluttering around the kitchen, opening cabinets and furrowing his brows in search of something.

“Thank you for the clothes,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. Her body shook a bit as she stood awkwardly by the kitchen table.

“Don’t mention it,” he muttered, distracted. But then, he finally spotted the honey in the cupboard with the baking soda. His back was still turned to her as he placed it next to the steeping tea and then went to put some bread in the toaster. “Why don’t you go lay down?”

“Are you actually gonna make me do that?” she asked.

“Yes,” he replied, matter-of-fact, pushing the toaster’s lever down. He turned to her and felt his heart do a twist at the sight of her. She looked ghostly pale, but also a little green, and just so sick.

“Since when do you listen to your uncle’s orders?”

“Since you tried to come to work with laryngitis and a fever. Since then,” he said. “And you should stop talking. You’ll make yourself worse.”

Again, she rolled her eyes, though it only hurt her head. “I’ll say what I please. I’m fine.”

“That’s very convincing,” he deadpanned.

She glanced doubtfully over at his bed, then back at him. “You really want me in your bed right now? Didn’t you ever see Outbreak?”

“Now, I thought you were fine?” he said, feigning naivete.

“Shut up,” she said with a huff.

“Oooo, angry face. You do not like being sick,” he said.

“I’m not kidding, Jess. I’m not contaminating your bed.”

“Eleanor,” he began, and continued even when she scoffed at him. He rested his hands on the back of a dining chair as he spoke to her over the table. “You’re my girlfriend. C’mon. Just let me take care of you.”

Then, after only receiving a vexed stare from her, he sighed and continued.

“Okay. How about we watch a movie first? You pick this time. Go set up shop on the couch and I’ll bring you some medicine. But, when the movie’s over, you’re gonna get in bed and sleep this off. And that’s my final offer, ma’am.”

She rubbed at her eyes in exasperation, having just washed off the heavy makeup she’d applied that morning in an effort to look less like an episode of Tales from the Crypt.

“Please?” he said.

Smacking her lips together for a moment, she relented. Once again, she felt silly. Small. And selfish. Was he really pleading with her to let him play doctor? A part of her didn’t know whether to feel triumphant for getting Jess Mariano to go soft. But the rest of her just felt ashamed for being a brat. “Okay. I’m sorry. I know I’m being difficult.”

“Nothing for you to be sorry over. You’re sick.”

“Yeah, and I don’t want to sentence you to my fate,” she argued, growing uncomfortable at his affection. She felt disgusting; surely, she was disgusting. How could he still have such kind words for her, patient zero?

Jess shrugged. “I don’t mind. I’d rather I get sick from hanging out with you than from anyone else.”

“Are you sure?”

“Do I have to carry you over there myself?”

“Alright, alright,” she said, raising her hands in surrender as she started towards the living room area. “White flag. But it’s your funeral.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he said, returning to the task at hand when the toast popped up with a jovial ding! “And for the love of God, stop talking.”

“Don’t bring God into this space,” Ella retorted, ignoring him. “He harshes my mellow.”

Jess rolled his eyes in frustration. “Whatever, Peter Singer.”

She only gave a hoarse laugh in response.

Meanwhile, Ella crouched down beside the TV and let her gaze roll over the various titles. Lots of people she knew had DVD players, but both Lorelai and Luke preferred VHS. She shook her head at the thought of the two of them. If only. She swallowed again and was reminded of her utter misery. Her amusement didn’t dampen completely though, as she read the boxes and assigned ownership to each one. Field of Dreams—Luke. Blade Runner—Jess. Bridge on the River Kwai—Luke. Apocalypse Now—Jess. But the one she landed on seemed a lot more like something she would have in her own collection. She popped it into the player and went to grab the afghan from Jess’s bed. Bringing it over to the couch, she settled into the cushions, finally off her feet. Like a little kid on New Year’s Eve, she wanted to will herself not to doze off. But, the moment she exhaled and her muscles relaxed, she feared the sheer weight of her own fatigue. Her eyelids were already impossibly heavy. If there was any movie so compelling it would keep her up, though, it was her choice for the evening.

“What’s this?” Jess asked as he joined her on the couch, setting the plate of toast, mug of tea, and bottle of painkillers on the coffee table in front of her. “Something Stephen King, I presume?”

“Close but not quite,” she said. “Silence of the Lambs.”

“Eleanor-” Jess began, but she cut him off.

He had always been resistant to the film adaptation of Thomas Harris' novel, for some reason. Ella had tried countless times to convince him to give it a shot with her, calling it a cinematic masterpiece. It was a hill he would die on. He didn’t want to taint his experience of the original. But she knew he wouldn’t refuse her in her condition. “C’mon, James Dean. I promise it won’t be anything less gruesome than The Shining. More so, actually.”

“I’m familiar with the source material,” he said shortly. A glance at her expectant and feverish face, and all his hesitation faded. “Fine. Only if you promise to—and I mean this in the nicest way possible—shut the fuck up and give your voice a rest.”

“Deal,” she said with a smile and glued her gaze to the screen as the camera stalked Agent Starling on a run through the Quantico woods. She was already mesmerized, and not a word from the script had yet been spoken.

Jess reached in his backpack, thrown on the floor without care as he got home from school in the afternoon, and pulled out a notebook and a pen. Nudging Ella, he got her attention and handed them to her. “Just for the sake of curbing the urge.”

She shook her head at him, but still wore a tiny smile as she took to the college-ruled. It was almost halfway through the school year and Jess had barely used up the first ten pages.

You have that little faith in me? she wrote in large cursive and showed the page to him.

Jess chuckled. “I think you’re asking me to bet on losing dogs.”

Fuck you, she wrote, though her scowl was ungenuine.

“I love to hear you talk, Eleanor, I do,” he said. “Music to my ears. It just worries me when the songs start to sound like they were sung by Stevie Nicks herself. That’s not your normal style.”

She rolled her eyes. Don’t blaspheme Stevie. How about you shut up so we can absorb this tour-de-force of the thriller genre in peace?

As he read, she turned back to the TV, ready to lose herself in something after such a long day. A long week, really. Before she could get too absorbed, though, Jess went on. “And you have to eat that toast and take those pills.”

“The deal’s done. You can’t add more conditions,” she said, breaking eye contact with the screen to furrow her brows at him.

“Well, you’re in breach of the contract by talking, so why am I not allowed to add conditions?” he said.

Rolling her eyes again, she scribbled in the notebook. What about Luke’s soup?

“Who knows how long that’ll take?”

Can’t I just take the pills? When did toast become part of the equation?

“Because if you take the medicine on an empty stomach, you’ll just throw it up. Then we’ll have to start this process all over again.”

Can I be honest with you?

Jess nodded.

Ella passed the notebook to him with an earnest embarrassment Jess had grown to expect. There’s a chance I’ll throw it up either way.

Still, it was disarming to see her without her mask of confidence. In a way, it felt like a privilege to him. So, he chose his next words carefully, face glowing with a kindness he reserved only for her most unguarded moments.

“Well, I think I’m willing to risk it if it means you take those pills and start feeling better sooner,” he said. After a moment of thought, he held up one finger: wait. Then he made a brief beeline to his bathroom, and returned with a small plastic trash can. He set it down beside her and sat next to her again. “Some insurance. The tea should help your stomach, too.”

Ella looked at him for a moment with an expression he couldn’t place. She was bewildered, almost. “Stop being nice to me, Jess.”

“No,” he replied, light but unflinching.

Ella huffed. Nonetheless, she picked up one of the dry triangles of toast and took a gingerly bite. Then: “Thank you for making this.”

“Don’t thank me. Just be quiet and eat the damn toast.”

She spoke in a hiss so soft that her voice was barely audible, but Jess heard it clear as a bell just the same. “Nurse fucking Ratched.”

. . .

With the apartment awash in the dim glow of the TV, Jess couldn’t deny he was riveted. It was the second act, the search for the killer intensifying and nearing climax, turned down to a low volume. At his side, Ella snored slightly. Sure enough, she had been able to keep the toast and the aspirin down, along with the chicken soup. It had taken her all of ten minutes after Luke brought the steaming bowl up from the kitchen to pass out asleep on Jess’s shoulder. He could feel the blazing heat of her cheek through his shirt. The afghan was draped over the both of them, and outside, the wind was whipping by in blustering gusts. She shivered every so often, but less and less the more time went on. He was glad; at least he had done a couple things right. Of course, he had never been known for his caretaking skills. His mother certainly hadn’t been a master class in the instinct to nurture. But he had tended to a few hangovers in his life, only some his own. And with Ella, things sometimes came so naturally to him, he barely registered it. It was simple; he was going to do everything in his power to help her, because she mattered to him. As Hannibal Lector escaped, she shifted around sleepily and tried to clear her throat. But soon she began coughing in the crook of her arm once again. In an instant, she tore away from him and sat up. Jess smoothed what he hoped was a soothing hand over her back.

“You want some water?” he asked when she finally caught her breath.

Ella nodded, collapsing back against the couch and drawing her folded legs to her chest. The afghan slipped and dropped to the floor, but she paid it no mind. Curling up into herself, her skin was flaming, but still, waves of chills rolled over her. The haze of sleep was wearing off slowly, and for a moment upon waking, she had felt a streak of purely animal fear. She was out of her element, and her hackles were itching to raise. As Jess went and collected some water from the kitchen tap, she took a moment to breathe. He returned and she took the water from him.

“Thank you,” she said. Her voice was shredded, but she didn’t feel like her throat was scorched earth anymore. Progress, she thought wryly. The leaps and bounds of medical science.

“You’re welcome,” he said, watching her sip gratefully. “How do you feel?”

“Aces,” she retorted, tone flat.

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“I’m sorry, Jess,” she said, placing the empty glass on the table. Too shy to meet his gaze, she rubbed her hands anxiously on her knees.

“For what?” he asked, confusion painted on his face.

“I’m sick. I’ll get you sick. I’m sure you had more exciting plans than listening to me snore,” she said, gesturing with exasperation. She let her feet hit the floor again and pressed her hands down into the cushions at her sides, making to stand up. “I should just go.”

“Whoa, hey, Eleanor,” he said, grabbing her wrist before she could try. “There’s no reason you should be out in that weather. You’re already under it.”

“You think puns are gonna make me wanna stay?” she asked doubtfully, still refusing to make eye contact. “The reason is that I’m not your responsibility and I still have to study for my stat test. I’ve already overstayed my welcome.”

“As if you could ever do that,” Jess said, shaking his head at her. “Y’know, you should really be putting this in the notebook.”

“Fuck the notebook!” she exclaimed, words crackling.

“Alright,” Jess shot back. And after a moment of charged silence: “Look at me.”

Ella squeezed her eyes shut for a moment in frustration, then set her jaw tightly and faced him.

The vivid brightness of her eyes was startling, but Jess knew it was the fever that had yet to break. “I’m telling you. I don’t mind. Luke doesn’t mind. Why can’t you hear me? What’s going on?”

“I just…” she began, her words a sigh. Her words trailed off for a moment, but then she took another resolute breath and doubled down. “I just don’t want you to see me like this.”

“Like what?”

“Sick.”

“Everyone gets sick. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“Obviously I know that, but…” she had to stop again, suddenly becoming more emotional than she was prepared to handle. Her head was on fire. Maybe the waterworks welling up would at least cool her down. “I just can’t! If I get sick and I miss school, or I skip my chores, or call out from work, my whole life gets thrown off! I’m already gonna be behind on my studying for my stat test! And then suddenly, I’m behind on fucking eveything, and I’m disappointing everyone, and then I don’t get into college, and I never get to be an artist, and I never leave Stars Hollow! I can’t!”

“Honey, hey,” he said, cupping her face in his hands so maybe she would finally listen. “You’re putting too much pressure on yourself. I promise it’s not the end of the world.”

She scoffed sadly. “Easy for you to say. It’s like a shark. If I stop swimming, I’ll die.”

“You’re human, Eleanor,” he said softly. He caressed her cheeks with both his thumbs, once, in affectionate synchronicity. Then, he dropped his hands and smirked in a way she found comforting. “And, for the record, I’m sure that even Jaws still took a sick day every once in a while.”

She chuckled in spite of herself. A minute of pause sobered her amusement, and she smacked her lips together in thought. Then, she raked her hands through her hair and let her head loll back against the couch again. She rubbed her red-rimmed eyes with the heels of her hands, and then tilted her gaze at him. “I’m a nightmare when I’m sick. I know it. I’m sorry.”

“I’m gonna need you to stop apologizing now,” he said shortly, but free of malice.

She opened her mouth to protest, but he interrupted before she could even begin. Once more, he laid his palm on her forehead and clicked his tongue in worry.

“You say one more word and I’m telling Luke that you still have a fever,” he warned. “And you’ll be wishing for the time when you thought I was Nurse Ratched. Believe me.”

Jess had been begrudgingly under Luke’s care for a little over a year, and had been privy to his uncle’s questionable bedside manner only a couple of times. Once, in the aftermath of him cutting his hand open on one of Caesar’s knives and painting the dish pit red, and a second time during the awful flu that hit Stars Hollow right around Christmastime the year previous. In both instances, Luke’s protective nature was abundantly apparent. It was in the tact and patience departments where he was lacking. Far be it from Jess to criticize anyone for their social ineptitude, though.

Judas, she wrote. Whose side are you on?

He shrugged. “Desperate times. I can’t have a Satine situation on my hands.”

But then you’d have such tragedy to pull inspiration from, Christian.

“Believe me, it wouldn’t be worth it,” he said. “I’d never be able to return to the Moulin Rouge.”

She giggled with a quizzical expression, about to ask when the hell someone had dragged him to that movie. It was one of her favorite’s, staged like a LauTrec painting. She couldn’t imagine him sitting in the audience, and definitely not without a frown at its frivolity. But then, her body interrupted and she yawned into her fist.

Jess hopped up from the couch and held his hand out to her. “Okay. Bedtime.”

For a second, Ella thought about arguing. But then she decided she had given him enough of a hard time for one night. A jackass though he was, he was showing a restraint so immense she was having difficulty recognizing him. Part of her thought in a foggy, febrile way that the whole evening had been a hallucination of some kind. But she was exhausted past the point of interrogating the reality of things. Instead, she took her notebook in one hand and with her free one grabbed Jess’s. She let him help her up.

“Do you need anything?” he asked.

Ella squinted in the dimness of the apartment as she scribbled. You’re not tucking me in, Mariano.

Jess smirked. “I’ll take that as a no.”

Ella lingered there for a moment, still apprehensive about lying in someone else’s bed when she was contagious. She wrote again. Thank you. Seriously, Jess.

“Don’t thank me,” he repeated. “There’s another addendum.”

You’re impossible.

“Right back at ya.”

You sure you don’t mind me stealing your bed for the night? I can just surf the couch.

“Nope,” he said with cool assurance. “Don’t mind at all. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

A nostalgic smile tugged at her lips. Then can you keep the movie on? And turn it up, please? So I can hear it from over there.

Shaking his head, Jess found the strength of his resolve again outmatched by just the sight of her. “Oh, yeah. That’s definitely not a recipe for night terrors.”

. . .

The first murky orange light of sunrise crept in through the windows above Luke’s. Jess wasn’t sure exactly what woke him up, but he thought he might’ve heard the bell above the diner door jingle, breaking the silence of dawn. He startled, and once again, Big Sur hit the hardwood. Getting his bearings, Jess realized he must’ve fallen asleep with the book on his chest before he could actually finish his chapter. He had already read through it once in the week since Ella bought it for him. Often, he had been tempted to put notes in the margins. But he couldn’t bring himself to sully the masterpiece with his markings. He supposed he owned it, but his gut was unaware. Holding it in his hands felt sacrilegious in a bizarre way he knew he could never vocalize. Nonetheless, he rescued it from the floor, along with the receipt he had used to save his place. At the present moment, all he could think about was coffee. There would be time to retrace his turning of the pages and find the spot he last remembered later.

He rose from the couch, stretching. There was a crick in his neck. He shrugged it off and padded softly in sock feet over to the coffee maker. Glancing at his watch, he found it was not even five yet. There were no deliveries this Saturday; Luke was still snoring in the vein of Texas Chainsaw Massacre on his side of the apartment. Soon enough, though, his alarm clock would blare its grating BEEP BEEP. And Jess would be awoken regardless of whether he was scheduled to work. Jess knew it made Luke feel a bit vindicated, especially on this particular morning. Jess thought he must’ve fallen asleep around midnight. At that point, Luke had still been downstairs doing inventory, without Jess or Ella’s help to close. Misery loves company.

As bitter as Jess was about his body becoming accustomed to the early bird lifestyle, at least today his awakening had been a little less jarring. While he filled the pot up with water, preparing to pour it into the machine, he looked out over the town square, glimmering with fiery sparkles. Though it was only a ballpark, Jess had been a northerner his whole life, and was semi-confident in his assessment that there was at least a foot or two of snow on the ground. Once he got the coffee started, he took a minute to rummage through Luke’s tea stash. It was a cabinet he did not frequent, but had seen Ella organize more than once when they were hanging out upstairs. She did the same thing with not only the tea, but pretty much everything in the stock room. When he’d first come to town, everything had been arranged by color. At some point in the interceding months, she had made the transition to alphabetical order. He decided on peppermint, then prepared the cup and the kettle. The air was becoming fragrant with medium roast, and he decided in favor of waking Ella up gently, rather than let the alarm clock give a jolt of surprise to start the day. He wasn’t on shift until two, and he intended to keep Ella company for as long as she would let him.

But as he rounded the corner from the kitchen to his room, he furrowed his brows. His bed was made, perfect and meticulous. On it, he found a note written in Ella’s cursive:

Hooper,

Thank you for last night (consider the contract officially ripped up). It was nice to float for a little while. But I really have to go! I’ll call you tonight.

-Jaws

. . .

Author's Note:

It’s been awhile! I hope this note finds you well! It’s great to be back, but a bit nerve-racking!

Please consider this story a companion piece to the original, rather than a sequel. A character study of sorts. An extension, if you will. An expansion. It will not be linear like the original, nor will it be as plot-driven. If you hate this, please ignore it and pretend the original story is all there is. In returning to this story and these characters, my greatest fear is corrupting the foundation. I also have not written in this particular voice in a while, so please be patient with me as I reorient myself with the pacing and the style of Gilmore Girls. Fair warning: this new story, much like the original, will in many ways be an avenue for me to work out some personal trauma. The eighteen months since I finished the original story have been…interesting for me. I can only imagine what y’all have gone through since then. My hope is that while the subject matter of this story may be dark, and the themes arguably even more mature than the original, we can all find some light and levity together. That’s what Gilmore Girls has always been about for me.

Moreover, I wanted to mention that there are a lot of things I wish I could change about the original story. It was written during the depths of the pandemic, with a feverish impatience that comes only from being locked inside for months on end. There are grammatical mistakes, timeline inconsistencies, and a few flat-out plot holes. With this new story, I intend to treat everything with a bit more time and care. So, if there are parts of this that read like revisions of the original, they are! Don’t get me wrong; I am proud of the original story and it was written with a lot of love. Just not enough editing. I’m not going to change anything really, just rework a bit. Only time will tell if this new addition corrects or exacerbates the errors of the original.

I’m also aware that not a lot happens in this chapter. Fear not; more action is coming. This was more about setting things up for the future and reintroducing us to the microcosm of Stars Hollow that is Luke’s diner.

But enough doom and gloom and warning! I am also so excited to share more of Ella and Jess with y’all! Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you thought of this first installment! Feedback nourishes my soul!

P.S. As you can tell, time has not afforded me any greater skills in brevity. I apologize!

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