#Songs of a Sourdough

[blackcat419]

I’m making sourdough and thinking about what the Stark girls would like the most about making sourdough.

Arya likes feeding the starter and seeing it grow. She’ll take a little extra and put it in a tight glass container and feed it a bunch of sugar and flour to make it expand and escape the container. Besides that she likes doing the stretching and folding of the dough. She’ll chase Sansa around with her hands covered in dough because that’s what little sisters love to do.

Sansa loves experimenting with different dough recipes. She rigorously tests the different flavors to make the best lemon flavored sourdough. She also loves making little designs on top of the sourdough like flowers and geometric patterns.

Once the bread is made they both love seeing their family try the bread and talking about what they did to make it.

While Sansa and Arya are different they make a good team by covering each other’s weaknesses.

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

*petty betty wine glass incoming*

if killatrav had been asked what it was like writing music with his girlfriend during the pandemic I fear the answer would have been quite different lol

#1 hype man would have been on cloud nine

[libbys-braincell-loss]

me when the person i like talks about their nerdy interests overexcessively for an hour straight and i have no interest in the subject matter when hes not talking to me but its absolutely adorable when he rambles about something he knows so much about

[whoslaurapalmer]

oh speaking of bands doing new albums, according to colin meloy's substack (which i did subscribe to. of course. have you met me.) they're all doing a new decemberists album and i'm like. oh boy hell yes here we go hell fucking yeah

[liesonthefloordramatically]

Snap out of it, stop thinking 'bout yourself Go to bed, get your head out of tomorrow You'll be fine, you don't have to be All the things you thought you'd be by twenty-nine

[l-e-g-i-o-n-losh]

i get to have a little treat in the next groceries so i am debating cheeses. I love a good cheese.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

We had one of Steff's comedian friends staying with us on the weekend, lovely lad called Sam from Singapore. He had never been to Wales before, and he requested that we take him to a Welsh restaurant so he could try Welsh food

That's surprisingly difficult, actually. Like a lot of Welsh culture, our culinary traditions have not exactly been applauded over the years, so you don't really see them. But a lucky Google search revealed a brand new one has just opened in SA1 called the Welsh House, so great! Away we went.

Fuck me, they went all in.

It wasn't just the menu (though fuck me, what a menu - one of their 'for the table to share' options was little mini leek and cheddar Welsh cakes with salted butter and they were paralysingly good). It wasn't just that every alcohol was Welsh, even including the wine (surprisingly good btw, called 'Naturiol'.)

The table centerpieces were daffodils. All signs for the toilets were Welsh only. The walls had photos of Wales, modern and historical; the windows had the fleur de lis; the specials board (pork belly in Welsh cider and damson sauce with honey and wild garlic glazed carrots) had dragons on. I realise this is probably normal for country-themed restaurants, but I've never been to one for Wales before.

But the best bit, see, was the music

I clocked, when we walked in, that they were playing If You Tolerate This Then Your Children Will Be Next by the Manic Street Preachers (you always clock the Manics). Ah, I thought. A Welsh song! In a Welsh restaurant! Ho ho ho.

As they seated us, it became What's New Pussycat. Ah! I thought. Another Welsh song! Fu fu fu.

Then they played Monster by the Automatic and I was like my god are they only playing Welsh music?? That's so cool! What an eclectic mix that's going to be. We should suggest to them they should look into Welsh language music too, really mix it up.

And then they played Anrheoli by Yws Gwynedd and lads, Steff and I lost our shit. We lost our fucking shit. Sam's sitting there, utterly bewildered. The staff are nervously edging away from us. We don't care. It's the first time I have ever heard a Welsh language song played outside of a Welsh language setting. We're so excited.

"They're playing Welsh music!!!" says Steff. "Holy shit!!!"

"Imagine if they played Sebona Fi!" I say, humorously.

"Nah," says Steff. "You can't in a restaurant. There'd be a riot, it's faerie music."

"...what?" says Sam

We explain the cultural phenomenon that is Sebona Fi. The song changes: Primadonna Girl, by Marina and the Diamonds.

"She's Welsh??" says Sam.

"She's from Abergavenny!" we beam.

"I don't know what that means," nods Sam, who is from Singapore.

Next: The Bartender and the Thief, by the Stereophonics. We're in high spirits. The extraordinarily Welsh wine arrives, as does the rarebit on sourdough starter. Sam, a gay man, delightedly orders the faggots and peas.

They play Ben Rhys by Gwilym Bowen Rhys, and we lose our shit again. Sam is now used to this, because comedians are adaptable. "They even have daffodils!" I say, misty eyed. "Is that relevant?" Sam asks, fascinated.

They play Hiraeth, by PLU. Hard to explain that one. Very hard to explain the effect it has when it's played in a restaurant, but Sam looks around the suddenly muted room and whispers "Are we in church?"

"It's about Hiraeth," whispers Steff. "So kind of."

Next: the Masses Against the Classes, by the Manics. Utter tonal whiplash. This playlist is not remotely restaurant appropriate. It's perfect.

"You'd think they'd pick like... a genre," Sam says dreamily. "We just went from church to the barricades."

The faggots arrive. "I forgot it would be a western sized portion," Sam says morosely, of what to me is a normal sized plate of food. He tries one, and brightens.

They play Sebona Fi.

The place erupts.

[the-disaster-of-passion]

So I was reading a sourdough recipe book that my roommate has because I thought it looked cool and I ate more than a quarter of their freshly baked loaf because it was so fucking good and I feel bad that they have to bake Constantly to keep up with the bread consumption of this household so I figured hey I'd love to bake as well help out a bit yknow?

And as I'm reading I'm listening to just my Spotify liked playlist because I've liked some Bangers lately and figured heavy electric music was the vibe for sourdough book reading.

What I had forgotten was that I also just use my Liked playlist for songs I'm curious about, but haven't gotten around to yet. So when EAT ME by Demi Lovato, a song I've never heard before, comes on and the chorus is just her shouting YOU'LL HAVE TO EAT ME AS I AM, I felt it. Deep inside me, I knew that this was my future loafs way of telling me that, hey, it's alright if you fuck up. I'm here, but you'll have to eat me as I am. Face your failures. Wear them with pride, and someday you can make a bread that is Edible Maybe

[thoughts-reasons]

Instagram

[threadbaresweater]

if she calls, i'll be right there | megumi fushiguro

He's quiet. He's helpful. He's good with your kids. He's handsome and smart and totally not living up to his potential. He's younger than you. Months after your divorce is final, you find yourself entangled with your next door neighbor in more ways than one. At first it's just a casual thing, a way to blow off steam. But you realize after some time has passed, you're both in far deeper than you ever meant to be.

Cw: age gap- Megumi is in his early twenties, reader is in her early-to-mid thirties. Reader is divorced and has two children. Mentions of infidelity and emotional abuse. Alcohol use. Consensual (unprotected) sex. Slightly obsessive Megumi. 5.7k words (how did this happen?) Largely unedited. We die like men around here. Please don't be afraid to let me know if there are any glaring errors. Minors please dni.

You met Megumi on a cold, rainy November afternoon in the parking lot outside your townhouse. You'd just dropped off your kids to their dad for the weekend and stopped to pick up a few groceries on your way home. Weary and stressed from a busy week of work, playing taxi, helping with homework and hairstyles and extra-curricular activities, you were looking forward to a quiet weekend alone to decompress and try to remember yourself.

Your divorce was still fresh, still raw. Your ex husband made it difficult for you to be civil, but you did your best to be polite in front of your children. They seemed to be adjusting to the custody arrangement as well as could be expected, but you found that working full time and being a single parent was far more taxing than you had anticipated. There was little time to connect with friends or to fit in any sort of leisure time. So when weekends rolled around and you had a bit of a break, you often found yourself overwhelmed and lacking direction. Do you catch up on laundry and mow the lawn, or do you meet friends for drinks and indulge in a night of fun? Though you didn't yet consider yourself old, you certainly didn't feel young and desirable these days. Dating wasn't an option just yet, either. You knew that the baggage you carried around was too heavy to ask anyone else to bear, so most weekends, you preferred to tidy up around the house enough so that you wouldn't feel guilty about lazing around, then you'd open a bottle of wine and order takeout and binge a few episodes of your favorite series. 

For a few minutes, you sat in the car, hoping the rain would lighten up and the wind would die down just a little. You drummed your fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the song on the radio, humming quietly, running through your mental list of restaurants that would deliver dinner. The song ended, the rain still came down in sheets, and you sighed. "Here goes nothing," you muttered, putting up the hood of your raincoat and ducking your head under the deluge. You ran to the back of your car and lifted the hatch, only for one of the bags of groceries to topple out onto the asphalt. A glass jar of marinara hit the ground and shattered on impact, and the loaf of sourdough you'd been looking forward to–wrapped in a flimsy paper sack– slipped directly into a puddle. 

With a heavy, tearful sigh, you put back into the bag what hadn't hit the ground and hoisted it up on your hip, then grabbed the second bag. You'd have to come back out when the rain stopped to sweep up the glass. As you turned to hurry up to your porch, you heard someone call out to you from a few doors down, footsteps splashing quickly through the puddles.

"Hey! You need help?"

A slender hand reached toward one of the bags at your hip and you reflexively recoiled, turning yourself away. "I got it, thanks," you said, eyeing the stranger warily. He looked a little offended, then hooked his thumb in the direction of your car. 

"Looks like you dropped something back there. Sure you don't need me to help?"

Something in the way he looked at you made you soften a little, and the cold, driving rain only furthered your decision that yes, you did need help, so you thrust one of the bags into his arms and dug your keys from your pocket.

"Hold that for just a sec so I can–" 

The bottom of the other paper bag in your arm gave out, spilling the rest of your purchases onto the sidewalk; suddenly, you were thankful for the rain, because it hid your frustrated tears.

"Got it," he said quietly, bending to scoop up your goods before they could be further ruined. You quickly unlocked your door and directed him inside.

"Just put it there," you said, motioning to a side table in the front hallway of your home. He did so, carefully, making sure not to drop anything else. The two of you stood on the rug while you shrugged out of your coat with a disgruntled sniffle. "Thanks, uh–" 

"Megumi. I, um, live a few doors down." He pushed back the hood of his jacket and ruffled his hair, peering at you through long, dark lashes. 

"Oh, Megumi! Yeah, we've met once before!" You told him your name, and he nodded. Said he remembered you, too. You smirked at him, toeing off your shoes and setting them over the vent to dry. "Well thanks for helping me." With a weary sigh, you started gathering up your groceries. "I really appreciate it."

He nodded again, looking a little unsure of himself. "No problem. I should probably go now." He looked out to survey the rain and found that it was beginning to let up just a little. "Unless you need some help putting that away."

"I think I can manage from here, but thank you." You really didn't want to be rude, but the day had already taken its toll, and you really just wanted to take a warm bath and curl up in front of the TV with some comfort food and your favorite blanket. "But if I ever need help again, I know who to call on," you say with a wink.

Megumi ducked his head and lifted his hood so you didn't see the blush that flooded to his cheeks, then shoved his hands into his pockets, using his shoulder to open the door. "Sure, yeah. Anytime." With a short nod, he steps outside. "See ya."

"Bye," you said, watching him go. 

You lingered so long in the doorway that the glass began to fog over with your breath.

Life stayed busy, as it tends to do when you're a single parent, and you didn’t see Megumi again for several weeks. In fact, it was nearly Christmas before you ran into him again. 

The days turned cold quickly, and when the snow began to fall, your daughters wanted nothing more than to spend time outside playing in it. So you bundled them up, snug and warm, and ventured out into your front yard to teach them the art of building a snowman. 

Megumi watched you from his second story window for a little while, and when you struggled to lift the middle portion of your snowman onto the base, he thought maybe he ought to help. It was also an opportunity to talk to you again.

"Use your muscles, mama!" your oldest daughter instructed. "We'll help!"

The three of you tried your best to hoist it off the ground. You giggled so much that your strength left your body entirely, and you all fell to the ground in a giddy fit of laughter and decided to make snow angels instead. Eyes closed against the fluffy flakes of snow that continued to float down from the sky, you didn't notice Megumi walk out onto the lawn and lift the large ball onto the base. He packed in a little more snow to close the seam, then began rolling what would become the head.

"Ok, girls, let's try again," you said, pushing yourself off the ground. Once you were upright, you came face to face with Megumi, his cheeks rosy, breathing out gentle white puffs of air. "Oh!"

This close, you could see the intense green of his eyes, the snowflakes that gathered in his long lashes. He stared back at you for a second, surprised at the close proximity of you. "Hey." 

You laughed sheepishly, taking a step back, then brushing the snow from your bottom. "Hi!" you said, a little too loud. "You scared me!"

Megumi bent down to continue rolling the head of the snowman, and your youngest daughter hugged you around the hips, watching him curiously. "Who's that, mama?"

You draped your arm over her shoulders and hugged her close. "That's our neighbor, Megumi. Go on, say hello," you encouraged. 

With a tiny, mitten-covered hand, she waved to him. "Hi 'gumi."

"This is gonna be the best snowman ever!" your oldest daughter chimed in, dashing over to help Megumi push the ever-growing ball of snow around. 

He offered her a comfortable smile and let her take over for a minute. "I think so, too. You guys are good at this."

The four of you worked together until the assembly was complete. You gathered some stones from a neighboring driveway to add eyes and a mouth, and a carrot from your kitchen made a fine nose. Two sticks gave the snowman arms, and an old, knit hat covered his head.

"He needs a scarf!" your oldest cried, tugging at your jacket. "He looks cold!"

You looked around, trying to remember if you had an extra, old scarf laying around anywhere inside. "I don't think we have one," you said.

Seeing the girls look a little crestfallen, Megumi took it upon himself to unwind the plaid scarf tied around his own neck, and held it out to them "How about this?" 

Their squeals of laughter made him smile, and he looked at you as if seeking approval. 

"Oh, you don't have to do that," you said. 

He shrugged, even as the girls had accepted his offer and were tying the scarf onto its new owner. "I've got another one. I don't mind."

You looked at him, and for a moment, you saw more than just the guy next door. Your heartbeat kicked into a faster rhythm as he held your gaze, and it wasn't until your daughter had cried Mama, mama look! a handful of times that you tore your gaze from him, shaking your head, a little dizzy.

"I see, baby! He's perfect!" 

Megumi stood off to the side with his hands in his pockets, watching as you adjusted the snowman’s limbs. And when your youngest whined about being too cold, her little teeth chattering in a sudden gust of wind, you began to herd both girls toward the house. You turned back to Megumi and gave him a gentle smile.

"Um, do you want to come in for hot chocolate?" When his eyes widened and your girls cheered, you added, "We have mini marshmallows."

He chuckled– warm and deep, ducking his chin down into the collar of his coat. "Yeah, that sounds nice."

You made small talk in the kitchen while you sent your girls upstairs to change into their pajamas. The sun was setting, and you didn't plan on going out anywhere else that evening, so you figured it would save a step later to have them go ahead and change. 

Megumi offered to help with the hot chocolate, but you wouldn't have it. He sat at your kitchen table, tearing a napkin into neat little squares while you chatted idly about work. You learned that he worked at a call center for a health insurance company. And though you meant no offense, you laughed a little. 

He raised a curious brow and blew over the top of his mug before taking a tentative sip. "What's so funny?" He asked.

You shrugged and dropped an ice cube into each of your girls' mugs, then gave them a stir. "You don't seem like an insurance salesman, I guess."

"I don't sell. I just field questions about policies and stuff."

"But you don't, like, get commission or anything when you try and upsell someone?"

He shook his head. "I don't upsell. We're not allowed. I literally just talk to people about their claims and usually end up sending them off to someone else who can handle it."

You leaned against the kitchen counter with your hip, fingers interlaced around your own warm mug of hot chocolate. "Aren't you bored?"

Megumi looked at you for a moment, tilting his head to the side. "I mean, yeah, but the pay is decent."

"I dunno. A smart, good looking guy like you? I bet you could get any job you wanted."

It took you a moment to realize what you said, and how it must have sounded to Megumi. You stuttered a little and called your girls into the kitchen. "Hot chocolate's ready!" 

The girls bounced into the room and sat down at the table, instantly dominating the conversation. Truth be told, you didn't mind one bit. The last words you spoke echoed around in your mind and you kept stealing glances at Megumi while your daughters chatted about school and classmates and their favorite cartoon characters. He was good at asking them questions about their interests, staying just interested enough to keep them chattering away while still being able to turn his attention to you now and then, sharing a secret smile with you that spoke volumes.

Once their mugs were empty, you shooed them off to their room to play. Megumi stood and helped you clear away some of the mess, then said he should go, too.

"Thanks for the invite," he said, lingering near the doorway, hands in his pockets, shoulders rounded. 

"I hope I didn't make this awkward," you breathed, putting away the last of the spoons. "I didn't mean…" What did you mean?

He lifted a hand and made a dismissive gesture. "Tch. No worries. I didn't take it badly. I know I can do better." He sighed, looking at you meaningfully. "You know what they say– money makes the world go 'round. Or…something." He laughed sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks tinted pink. "I'd better stop before I say something else dumb."

You smiled sympathetically. "Let me walk you to the door."

He slipped on his coat and stepped into his boots that were now warm and dry. "Thanks again for having me."

"Sure, no problem, honestly. The girls really liked you. I haven't heard them talk that much to someone that's not me or their dad in…well, in a really long time."

Megumi's eyes widened considerably, and he took a step back, zipping up his coat. "Dad? Oh. Are you–?"

"Divorced," you blurted out, pointing to the lack of ring on your finger. "Recent. Um, actually. Final! Not tied up in court or anything anymore. Nope, I'm single!" Shut up, shut up!

Poor Megumi had no idea what to say or how to say it. He wanted to say he was glad to know you weren't married, because it would have made him feel terribly guilty for being attracted to you. In fact, he already felt guilty enough for the thoughts he'd been wrestling with, considering the fact that you were at least 5 years older than him (he guessed) if not more. There was no way a beautiful woman like you– with two kids and a rich life of your own– would ever consider getting involved with a younger, directionless guy. 

He swallowed. "Me. Uh, me too." He showed you his own, ringless finger, and you felt your cheeks flood with heat. "Uh, goodnight. Thanks again for the hot chocolate." 

"Goodnight, Megumi. Don't be a stranger, okay?"

He scratched the back of his neck and smiled at you– shy, unsure. God, you were beautiful. "Okay, yeah. See ya later." 

He found little ways to ease into your life after that snowy, December afternoon. He learned your routine, memorizing when you left for work and when you got home, what days the girls stayed with you and which weekends they spent at their dad's. He made sure your sidewalk stayed clear of ice and snow and even woke to scrape the frost from your car once the frigid temperatures of January and early February took hold. He helped you carry in groceries more than once, helped you juggle backpacks and dance bags and even a coffee table you salvaged once from a flea market. He was a good friend to you, one whose company you cherished. You never really considered Megumi someone who would want more than just a casual friendship with you. 

The day he found you crying in your car was the day things changed.

It wasn't that you were still in love with your ex husband. What he did to you– the very reason for your divorce– made certain that you'd never be able to look at him with love in your eyes again. And it wasn't that you didn't think he deserved to find happiness with someone in your stead. But when you ran into him on your lunch break and saw his arm around the waist of another woman, your stomach lurched and your vision blurred, and you had to excuse yourself. Your coworkers had murmured quietly as you darted to the restroom and locked yourself inside while your thoughts spiraled.

It wasn't fair. Of course you didn't want him back. Of course, you'd never be able to reconcile and have the relationship you'd once thought would last forever. Till death do you part, right? In sickness and in health? Your vows didn't account for him being a compulsive liar, though. A man who could look you dead in the eyes and tell the most convoluted stories and expect you to believe every word. You did for years, though. Excuses for why your savings gradually disappeared, for being late coming home from work time and time again. For missing dance recitals and holiday dinners. For so many reasons, so many times you lost count. He left you with no choice but to leave.

His happiness (or lack thereof) was no longer your concern. So why did it bother you so much to witness him touch another woman the way he used to touch you? You knew in your heart that their relationship would flounder, just like yours did. You knew he couldn't be faithful or truthful with anyone, including himself. Where was your happiness? Why couldn't you find it within yourself, as so many people promised you would?

A gentle tapping on your window startled you so much that you yelped and jolted, your heart kicking into overdrive. You swiped a hand through the fog on the glass to find Megumi, staring back at you with concern etched into his pretty features. Hurriedly, you wiped your tears away and rolled down the window, faking a tight-lipped smile. 

"Don't," he said, fingers closing around the top edge of the window.

You scoffed, then sniffled. "Don't what?"

"Smile. I know you don't mean it." 

You tucked your chin into your chest and squeezed your eyes shut; a couple more tears spilled free, and Megumi reached in to catch them on his cold fingertips. "Go inside. It’s cold out here."

Sighing, you killed the engine. Megumi stepped away from your car to allow you room to step out, then walked you to your door, hand hovering just above the small of your back to guide you. You were trembling so much that you couldn't even get the key in the door, and it caused a fresh wave of sadness to wrack your body, so you leaned your forehead into the wood and sobbed. Megumi gingerly took your keys from your hand and did it for you, ushering you gently inside. He took your coat and hung it, bent down to slide your shoes off your feet, set your purse on the table. "Come on," he said, helping you to the couch.

"You don't have to do this," you whispered, watching him as he grabbed the blanket you kept on the back of the couch and draped it over your lap. "You…you should go. I'm not good company right now."

He looked as if you'd slapped him across the face. Standing before you, eyes full of disbelief, of tenderness, he ran his fingers through his hair and looked off to the side. "I've never seen you cry," he murmured. "I just got worried."

"That's really sweet of you," you say, pulling the blanket up to your chin while you tuck your legs under your bottom, curling into the side of your couch. "I just need to be alone right now." Please don't leave me, you wanted to say. You felt incredibly vulnerable, and you knew if he stayed…

"I mean, if you want to talk about it, I'm right here." Something in his voice made him sound a little offended, as if he thought you didn't find him trustworthy. The weeks you'd spend making idle small talk with him didn't add up to much; in that moment, however, you realized you'd shared much more with him than just the little details about your life. "Was it him?"

Your eyes welled with fresh, burning tears, and you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, nodded, then buried your face in the blanket. "I'm so pathetic."

Megumi sat down beside you then, laying a tentative hand on your knee. You could feel his warmth even through the blanket, and you sucked in a breath, trying to calm yourself. "No, you're not," he implored. "I think you're amazing."

You laughed in spite of yourself, swiping at your runny nose with the sleeve of your sweater. "I don't feel amazing," you argued.

Megumi's hand pressed a little harder on your knee, and he shifted closer, reaching over to touch your chin. You gasped and turned your head at his gentle insistence, meeting his intense stare.

You'd touched him before. Accidental brushes against his shoulder in your kitchen. Bumping into him when you, he, and your daughters all crowded through your front door at once, carrying bags and hanging up coats. A playful nudge when he made you laugh at something silly. This felt new, though. Different in a way you didn't want to admit. Your intense sorrow gave way to something else, something you had been pushing down for weeks now.

“Megumi…”

The next few moments passed in a dreamy blur. You weren’t sure who kissed who first, who took that initial leap, but the next thing you knew, he was leaning into you, pressing your back against the couch. Your hands threaded through his hair and you held him against you while he licked into your mouth– hungry, passionate, all-consuming. For one tender, quiet moment, he pulled back and kissed your tear-stained cheeks, thumbing at the moisture collected in your eyelashes. “So beautiful…” he breathed, soft lips bumping against your own.

You grabbed his wrist and pressed your forehead against his, trying to catch your breath. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

Down the column of your neck Megumi dropped featherlight kisses and you moaned softly, eyes swung toward the ceiling. He shifted his weight against you, fingers spread around your ear, tilting your chin so his mouth could explore further, down to your collarbone. “Tell me to stop.” 

You couldn’t. You should, but the more he kissed you, the more you relaxed into him, the more you kissed him back with the same eagerness he showed you. Soon, his hands were beneath your sweater, thumbs grazing over the satin cups of your bra. You drug your nails up the back of his neck and he moaned so beautifully into your mouth that you felt a surge of arousal between your legs. When he tugged at the hem of your shirt, you leaned back and lifted your arms to allow him to pull it off, then crawled over him, into his lap, kissing him with a hungry intensity that he met in kind. You weren’t surprised to feel the bulge between his legs when you rolled your hips down into him. You wanted to devour and be devoured.

Once his own shirt was off, he took great care in unclasping your bra, lifting it away to reveal your breasts. For one reverent, quiet moment, he cupped them in his warm hands, tracing the outline of your areolas, thumbing over your nipples. You’re sure he’d seen breasts much younger than yours, not deflated from breastfeeding and fluctuations in your weight over the years, but the way he looked at them made you less insecure, more proud of how your body had aged. You wanted to say something, to ask him what he was thinking, but when his tongue laved over your nipple before his lips closed around it, all coherent thought flew out the window along with your sense of self-preservation. “Oh my god–”

“Want you so bad,” he whispered, hands kneading the fat of your thighs to pull you further down into his lap. You linked your arms around his shoulders as your hips found a rhythm, grinding yourself against him, desperate to ease the ache in your gut. You worked your hands between your bodies to unfasten his jeans, taking care to pull down the zipper so it didn’t catch. Megumi pulled away from your kisses to watch, breathing through his open mouth as you freed his cock, smoothing your hand over its heavy, velvety warmth. “Please,” he whimpered. 

You smiled, eyes hooded, clouded with lust, and leaned in so your lips touched his ear. “Please, what?”

“Need you,” he said, rutting against your hand, head laid against the back of your couch, fingers toying with the waist of your pants.

“Not here,” you said, pulling him off the couch. He stumbled to his feet and straight into your arms. He couldn’t bear to stop kissing you, to not be able to touch you. Out of the living room and up the stairs to your bedroom, you bumped into walls, you tripped over stairs. You giggled against his neck and he nipped at your shoulders as you discarded your pants in the doorway before crawling backwards onto your bed. Megumi stood before you, skin flushed pink, chest heaving, staring down at you with awe. “Come,” you commanded, letting your legs fall open. You watched as he swallowed, his throat bobbing before he climbed over you. Another kiss, and he trailed warm, soft fingers up the inside of your thigh, then swiped them lightly through your folds. You keened as your back arched off the bed and Megumi shuddered. He was fascinated with you. On one hand, he wanted to take his time, to map out every curve, every freckle and mole, every dip and scar. He wanted to know what every inch of you felt like against his lips, what kinds of sounds you’d make when he kissed your most intimate places. He wanted to know what it felt like to be inside you, to feel your ankles hooked at his waist, to whisper his devotion against your ear while you gripped his hair with a trembling fist and cried out his name.

“Hey, you ok in there?” you asked. He’d been still for a few moments, tracing idle patterns across your belly, the hand between your legs resting comfortably, fingertip just inside. You stroked his hair from where his head laid against your breasts and his ear caught your heartbeat. 

“Yeah,” he whispered. “You’re so beautiful.”

You kissed his hair and scratched lightly across his shoulders. “Thank you.”

“I mean it,” he said, a little louder. He hooked his finger inside you a little deeper and found your clit, rubbing small circles against it. Your breath caught and you gripped his hair a little tighter, closing your eyes.

“I know. I know you do, Megumi. You make me feel that way.” 

He pressed in further and murmured something about how wet you were, then shifted himself over you, pushing your thighs apart with a strength that surprised you, thumbs pressing hard into your flesh. You moaned in tandem when he finally entered you, meeting in a messy, filthy kiss as you arched off the bed to meet him.

You made slow, sleepy love, moving in the way people who have been together for years do. No rush, no daring positions or fast, hard fucking. Megumi worshiped you, all soft kisses and breathy moans, careful hands and tender affirmations. Your body bloomed in response, and for the first time in forever, you felt alive. Every nerve ending felt warm, blood rushing to your fingertips, your toes, to your head; you were drunk with pleasure and let yourself get swept away in his affection. And when you came, it wasn’t earth shattering. It began as embers in a fire, warm and stirring before it spread outward and consumed you with its overwhelming heat. You felt it everywhere– every beat of your heart only drove it deeper into your veins. You clung to him as you rode out your high and he reached his own, face buried in the space between your neck and shoulder, panting open-mouthed against your skin.

For a long time, you held him, tears sliding across your temples as you lay on your pillow, heart thumping against your chest. Megumi closed his eyes, one arm slung across your abdomen. His opposite hand laced with yours and he squeezed, subtle and quiet, breathing softly against your shoulder with his head tucked beneath your chin.

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep, but you woke several hours later, covered in a knit blanket from your bedroom closet. Blinking slowly, you stretched your arm out across the bed in search of Megumi. Somewhat disappointed (but not surprised) to find only cold, empty space where he had been, you got up, dressed in panties and an oversized t-shirt, and wandered down the stairs.

The clock on the wall told you it was past two in the morning, and the soft glow from the nightlight in the kitchen made you smile. Leaning against the counter was Megumi, nursing a cup of something you assumed was hot chocolate based on his preferences. You turned on the tap to get yourself a glass of water and tucked yourself into his side.

“I thought you went home,” you said.

“I probably should.”

You pressed into him further, sliding your arm around his waist. “You don’t have to.”

He slid a warm hand behind your head and held you against his chest, leaning to kiss your hair. “Good. I didn’t want to.”

From that point forward, you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. You restrained yourself when your daughters were with you, playing it cool and making sure they never saw you kissing or otherwise showing affection. Megumi found ways, though. He’d hook his pinky with yours while you sat on a park bench watching the girls play. He’d corner you in the kitchen to kiss you when they ran outside to get the mail, or rest a hand on your thigh while you watched a movie. It became a habit for him to spend the night in your bed when your daughters went to their father’s for a weekend, and when you weren’t fucking like rabbits on every surface of your house, you’d stay up late with a few bottles of beer and a cozy little fire on your patio, resting comfortably together while you talked and learned about each other. You couldn’t get enough of him, and he worshiped the ground you walked upon. You were in deep. Infatuated. Obsessed with each other. If it was unhealthy, you didn’t care. You felt vibrant, relaxed, beautiful. Ready to conquer the world.

What you had with Megumi wasn’t defined as anything specific. And though you weren’t explicitly together, you also hadn’t dated other men. A well meaning coworker had asked you if you’d tried a dating app, and you politely told her you weren’t ready to put yourself out there just yet. You told Megumi one evening, a few days after it happened, and felt him stiffen at your side. He reached for his beer and took a long drink, then remained sitting forward, elbows on his knees. “Do you wanna date other guys?”

You huffed a short laugh and bumped him with your shoulder. “Do you think I want to date other guys?”

He looked…irritated. “Answer my question.” You watched his jaw clench and felt heat rise to your cheeks.

“I thought– no, nevermind.” You shook your head and poked at the fire with a long stick, not daring to look him in the eye.

“You thought what?” The air was thick around you, even as a cool breeze blew through the trees. You shivered involuntarily, gathering your cardigan tighter around you.

“I mean, aren’t we dating? I guess we never really defined it, but…” You dared a peek at him, how the flames from the fire reflected in his eyes, how he looked at you with such devoted reverence it took your breath away. Quietly, you admitted, “I don’t want anyone else.”

“Neither do I,” he whispered, visibly relaxing. 

“I’m…a lot older than you, Megumi.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“I don’t want to have any more kids.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, a little more tense than before. He squeezed your thigh and scooted closer, ducking in to kiss your forehead. “Still want you.”

“I don’t even know if I want to get married again.”

He kissed your brow. “Don’t care. I’ll wait. And if you decide you don’t want to, I’ll still be here.” He hooked his finger under your chin and turned your face toward his, nudging his nose against yours. “I’ll still be in love with you.”

You breathed a little sigh and averted your eyes. “Megumi…”

“I’m serious. I do love you. And…” he tilted his head trying to meet your eyes again. “I think you love me, too.”

You kissed him. A distraction, a way to buy time before you said the words out loud. The words you’d rolled around on your tongue since the night you first slept together. It terrified you, the possibility of loving someone new, of giving your heart over to someone again. Megumi was nothing like your ex husband, but the hurt he caused made it nearly impossible for you to trust someone not to do it all over again. 

But for Megumi, you thought you could try. You wanted to give him that chance, to ease into something beautiful that you’d already been building. 

He cupped your face in his hands and gently pulled out of the kiss. “I love you,” he repeated. Expectant. Hopeful.

“I love you, too.”

[mauvecherie-writes]

poison: l.hamilton.

pairing: lewis hamilton x black!girlfriend reader

tags: 18+, mdni, usage of drugs (weed), nudity, making out, explicit sexual language, no actual smut. no plot - just a scenario. NOT EDITED

summary: sometimes the best way to relax is to share a bath with your lady and smoke on some sativa.

notes: I’m not quite back yet - but this scenario was sitting so heavy in my mind. I also needed to give you guys something as I get my shit together. Please like, comment and reblog I love you 🩷

w.c: 1.9K

fic song:

reader’s list: @queenshikongo3 @dhlfastestlap @saintslewis @serpenttines-library @hopefulromantic1 @cocobutterqwueen @bluesole16 @chaneajoyyy @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @sapphireheaven @olyvoyl @lewisroscoelove @lh44adore @hellomadamebutterfly @scorpiobleue @qveenmelanink @tremendousstarlighttragedy @angelinaevans @bekindbecoolbeyou @greedyjudge2 @itsapurrfectstorm @createdbylivingclocks @samiwzx @omgsuperstarg @peyiswriting @miyuhpapayuh @blowmymbackout

Baby 🩵: Hi Princess, my flight just landed. Hope you’re still at my place. I really need you right now.

You: Hi baby, of course. I can’t wait to see you 😘.

His assistant had already sent you the time that his flight was going to arrive at Heathrow so you were already awake, getting everything ready for him. Starting off, you make him a full brunch bowl of ackee with tomato, garlic mushrooms, cinnamon coated plantain with charred corn and toasted sourdough. Your passion had always been cooking but since your relationship with Lewis began, you spent more time working on vegan based food that the both of you can enjoy.

As his plate is in the warmer, you freshen up and get the bath salts and rose petals ready. Considering that it was only 3:43pm, you decide that it was a justifiable time to get your stash box out. Blue Dream was already in your grinder and after the weekend, Lewis had - this was something that he was going to need. You roll two joints and place them back on your rolling tray.

Once everything is prepared, you walk back to the living room and just as you sit down, you hear the chiming of the security system.

“Princess!” You hear Lewis call out for you. You hop up from the couch and run towards the foyer. Seeing your face causes a tired smile to spread across his lips and he opens his arms. You jump into them and wrap your legs around his waist.

“Hi my baby.” You whisper against his cheeks as you place kisses all over his face repeatedly causing him to chuckle as he tightens his arms around you.

“Hi.” He mumble back as you finally capture his mouth. “Mmm.” He hums as your lips move passionately against each other. You giggle into the kiss as his hands move to your ass and cup the flesh into his palms.

“I missed you.” Lewis sighs as he pulls away.

“I missed you too.” You reply as you get down from his waist and bring your hands to his face and you begin caressing his cheeks. He curls into your touch which causes your heart to melt. “Let’s get you settled in.” You tell him.

As he was eating, you wall back to the bathroom and prepare the tub and you turn on the jets to keep the water warm. Once everything is ready, you call for Lewis to come to the bathroom.

“Can you get naked for me?” You instruct. Lewis smiles at you as he begins to strip from his travelling clothes. Before the soak in, the both of you take a shower where you are washing him. This is the best part of your day. You love taking care of Lewis.

Getting to do this for him is one of your favourite ways to show Lewis how much you love him. With you, he just gets to let you take care of him.

Then you got into the bathtub, with a few candles lit and music playing in the background. You’re sitting on his lap with your thighs on each side as you bring the joint to your lips and spark it alight. You can feel his eyes on you and it warms your body far more than the water.

“You know I shouldn’t be smoking that.” Lewis muses as you take in your first inhale. You exhale the smoke over his face and you smile as he blinks through it.

“Your next race is in over a week. You’ll be fine.” You reply as you bring the joint to his lips. He takes a couple of puffs, inhaling the smoke and letting it settle in his chest before he exhales. You places the joint down and wraps your arms around his neck.

“Your presence is so calming.” Lewis compliments.

“Me or the sativa?” You ask with a quirked eyebrow.

“Both.” Lewis chuckles. He wasn’t much of smoker anymore so he is feeling the effects of the weed a lot faster than you are. You’re already halfway through the first joint thus seeing his reaction to it is a little hilarious.

As you speak, Lewis lays kisses on your chest and caresses the skin of your back.

“How have you been baby? Talk to me.” You say as your thumbs lightly brush the back of his neck.

“Since the announcement, I feel like there’s been this bad energy hanging above my head.” Lewis confesses which causes you to pout.

“Awe baby.”

“I’ve always been the one to pick everyone’s spirits up at the factory. But for the past couple of years, I feel like no-one is really having my back.”

“I know they’ve been with you for close to thirty years now but with them, you know that the only loyalty they’ll know is to the check that pays them.” You explain. “But at the end of the day, you made the best business decision for you. Don’t let anyone on that team make you feel bad about that when they chose what they think is the best for them.”

“You really think I made the best decision?” He asks you as he licks his lips, looking up at you.

“We’re not even halfway through the season, alongside me, there are millions of your fans who would agree with me that you indeed make a good business move.” You lean forward and place a soft kiss on his jawline. “2025 is going to come and you’re going to show them why they fumbled the baddest bitch to ever do it.” Your last statement causes Lewis to laugh.

“The baddest bitch huh.” He raises his eyebrow as watches you take a hit from the second joint. You shift your body so that you press your back against his chest and he takes the joint away from you and takes a puff.

“You’re right though. I can’t keep feeling guilty about the car’s poor performance and taking it onto my shoulders when they barely do that for me.”

You hum in agreement as you stroke his arm, drawing patterns nonchalantly over his tattooed skin. “You’re bigger than the sport. When you leave, they’re going to be nothing without you.”

“I love the way you gas me up.” He chuckled as he leans down and places kisses along the length of your shoulder.

“Not only are you the undisputed goat of the sport, you’re my man. It’s a part of my duty to make sure that you never forget that.”

Lewis continues to place kisses on your neck and shoulder with his arms wrapping around your front. You sit there in silence for a while as you share the joint, just holding each other and enjoying the music in the background.

“You got any projects coming up?” He asks you. That was the end of the previous conversation, which is fine with you. Recently, you’ve began to hate speaking about Formula One. It has become draining for the both of you - which is telling because, you’re Lewis’s girlfriend, witnessing everything from the sidelines. You couldn’t possibly imagine what it feels for Lewis to be living in it.

“I’ve been curating some pieces for some people to add onto my blog. I’m helping to style Megan in a few days so I’m really excited about that. Oh! And the readers really love when I upload the pieces I’ve done for you.”

“You should just be my full time stylist at this point.” He states as he passes you the joint.

“Hell no.” You immediately answer. “I love you and I love styling you but you take a lot of work - you’re a perfectionist and that’s annoying especially when I know what works for you and what the girls want but you argue with me.” Rolling your eyes at the end, a move that causes Lewis to laugh.

“I know what I like.” He shrugs his shoulders.

“And I know what you need. Fashion is more than putting a good two piece on.”

“Okay, okay.” He relents as his quiet laughs vibrate through you.

“Would you even pay me?”

“I would pay you and then some. Even give you some special favours.”

“Oh? What kind of special favours?” You enquire even though you know what type of favours they would be. Lewis turns you back to face him. You position your legs on each side of his waist. You could feel his soft cock against your inner thigh but you weren’t going to turn your attention to that. You’re more focused on how faded he looks, how faded the both of you are.

His eyes are sitting low, his beautiful lashes nearly touching his cheeks with a slow smile playing on his lips as his hands go under the water and settle on your ass.

“You’d get to be with me more.” He begins but you interject.

“I’m practically with you all the time as it stands.”

“Yeah.” Lewis mumbles before tucking his head into your neck and nibbling on your skin. “I’d get to touch you, you’d get to touch me. Whenever and wherever.”

You bite on your lip and then you begin to feel his fingers curling and gripping into the flesh of your ass to pull you closer.

“Oh, I like the sound of that.” You take the joint from the rolling tray to take a big puff and then grab him by the jaw before exhaling the smoke into his mouth and put the joint back down. Lewis lets out a light grumble as your hand curls around the back of his neck and you pull him forward to meet his lips.

You moan into his mouth as his tongue swirls around yours as you continue making out. Lewis’s hand travels up the length of your back, putting pressure on you so that your chest is pressing against his. You nibble on his bottom lip, pulling it into your mouth as your manicured nails dig into his shoulders.

Lewis moves his head so that your lips don’t part any further and one of his hands grips one side of your head, keeping you in place as he makes love to your mouth. You sigh softly as rushes of pleasure shoot up and down your spine before settling in your abdomen.

You love the way he kisses you. It completely consumes you every time. The way his mouth moulded against yours, his tongue entangling with yours, his fingers exploring your body like it was the first time.

Itching to be closer to him, in an act of frenzy - you grind your hips forward. His dick begins to harden beneath your thighs but you’re too enthralled with the way he’s kissing you. It sends shivers down your spine. Lewis’s jerk upwards when you roll your hips again which causes you to giggle and finally pull away from the kiss.

“I think this bath has done what it needed to do. I need you in bed. Now.” His voice is low and full of arousal and your thighs clench at how deep his voice has gotten. He slaps the side of your breast which causes you to squeal.

You jump out of the water and reach for the drying towels.

“Drop those towels Princess. You’re not going to need it for what we’re about to do.”

ru’s letters 💌: let me know what you think. also would you like these type of one shots where it’s just a scenario? 💋

[taylortruther]

pretentious in this context is saying songwriting with your prolific partner is like making sourdough bread. trying SO hard to show that it's not important to you, that you're oh so nonchalant about it you end up sounding like you're trying to hard to give that impression. Or being unwilling to name a favorite song by that same partner.

uo but i always took that at his attempt to downplay the idea that he might become a songwriter or something? like, when you live with a prolific songwriter, writing music together can be a hobby like any other, and that's what it was. it didn't strike me as pretentious on its face. however, just like not showing up to her events, it feels like a bad rung on a very faulty ladder lol

[curtsycream]

Farmer’s Market Crush

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

warning: self indulgent fluff, can he please be my farmers market crush???, the reader has curly hair and is southern, the hair detail can be skipped over its not that important, his smile so pretty <33

She stood at her booth when she spotted him, in front of her was a variety of jams. From blackberry to peach all fresh and homemade. They were in adorable little glass jars that looked professional almost. “Can I help you with anything?”

Hotch hadn’t noticed her until she spoke his eyes focusing on her. He was a bit startled as he seemed to be gathering his thoughts.

She stood with a smile on her face as she looked at Hotch. “I’m sorry did I startle you? I apologize if I did…you just looked as if your mind was somewhere else!” She said sweetly.

Hotch had to stop himself from smiling at the question she just asked, he was most definitely zoned out at that point. That was until he heard that voice, so adorable and sweet sounding, with just the right amount of twang in it, it took all of his concentration to stay focused.

When she had asked if she startled him, Hotch simply shook his head, “No…no you’re fine… I apologize. It was….”

What should he say? He didn’t wanna tell her he had zoned out when he noticed her behind her booth.

She laughed softly as she shook her head, “don’t worry we all zone out sometimes..” she said in a understanding manner.

She was still smiling at him as if it was permanently etched onto her face. She found him handsome and truth be told she was staring at him for a bit before she finally spoke up.

Hotch cleared his throat not sure what else to say, he then saw her looking at him. Her sweet smile making her look sweeter than she did at first. Yet something about her…something about her was familiar. He knew what she looked like but it was also a certain way she carried herself…and that accent…that southern belle twang that made him almost melt in her presence.

Hotch finally remembered where he had seen her before. But she beat him to the punch when she spoke again.

“You look familiar,” she said tilting her head causing her curls to drape over her shoulder. She leans forward a little over her booth, “you’re with the BAU right? I think I spoke with you before at that little coffee house on Main Street..” she finally said.

That was it, he remembered her from that coffee shop. And in the back of his mind he had thought it was because she was involved in a recent case. He couldn’t explain just how happy that fact made him. And her accent only made his smile grow.

He looked over at her and nodded, “Yes…yes I am.”

Her accent making even the simplest sentences feel like love songs in his ears. “Your name is Y/N right?” His voice was soft and calm like a cool breeze on a summer’s night.

“Yeah Y/N!” She said with enthusiasm as she nodded her head at him. She knew he looked familiar as she had remembered hearing that voice before. Along with that face that seemed to hold just the right amount of endearment and warmth.

He nodded his head before he looked over at her booth, now noticing the sign that read “fresh jams, homemade. By: Y/N” and adorable little jars of jam. “You make these?”

“Yeah it’s a hobby, I make other things too! I make my own breads and even pecan pralines I like to think I make ‘em the best.” She boosted slightly. “I have all kinds of jams today…I hadn’t had the time to make breads in about a week.”

He listened intently as he examined her booth, seeing her homemade jams and baked goods was truly astonishing to him.

“You make bread?” Hotch’s voice was soft still as he thought back to one moment in his past.

“What type of bread?”

“I make French loafs, sweet breads, multigrain, whole wheat bread, honey wheat bread, sourdough, rye! I started making brioche that’s my favorite one!” She tells him with a smile.

His heart raced when he heard this. French loaf, sweet breads, honey wheat bread and homemade brioche…was this some sort of gift from above?

As he watched the gentle breeze blow her curls around her face he spoke up again. “You know, you make the same bread as my mother did when I was growing up.”

“Really? Does she still make bread?” She asked with interest. She found the idea of someone older making bread amazing. In her small neighborhood not many did or showed interest to continue.

He looked over at her. His eyes looked as if they had a glimmer of sadness to them. “Unfortunately she…has passed away.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said with a compassionate smile on her face. She had genuine sympathy in her E/C eyes as she spoke.

Hotch looked away for a moment, he didn’t want this woman to feel bad for him, he had come here to see the market. “What do you recommend?” He asked softly, looking over at her.

She took the hint as she looked back at him, “from any booth?” She asked. She knew each booth pretty well so recommendations came easy to her.

He truly appreciated how kind she was, just like his mother used to be. He then nodded his head once more “yeah, any booth. Since you work here you’d probably know the best recommendation, right?” he smiled again.

She points around, “if you’re into fresh produce Mr. Cook’s booth is perfect he spends his time with the vegetables he grows. He also sells them for dirt cheap because he just enjoys doing it! Oh and Mable the little old lady over there makes the best macarons! She has this hazelnut praline one that’s so good! But if you lack a sweet tooth and like savory…Henry the tall fella over there he has the best homemade chips. He mixes them with different things, I’ve never had honey chips before until I tried his.” She rambled with a smile.

Hotch was amazed at how sweet and adorable she sounded. Her voice was comforting in a way. When she was finished talking Hotch nodded in response, “okay. I think I’ll have to try out a sample of your home made jams. I also think I’ll go try out the honey chips too.”

His voice was calm, and his smile was warm. It was as if he was looking at the girl of his dreams. But maybe he was just being a bit overly dramatic.

She grins, “tell me what’s your favorite jam?” She said as she looked at him. There was subtle kindness in her eyes as she spoke to him.

He looked back at her, “blackberry is my favorite.” He wasn’t so sure why he was so flustered, “what’s your favorite jam, Y/N?”

His name sounded lovely whenever said with the southern accent and his heart raced even more with the look in her eyes. It was a genuine look, not of judgment or pretend, there was only sweetness and playfulness. Something about her made him nervous yet excited.

Y/N looks through her jams before picking up the blackberry one. She thinks for a moment, “mine would be apple jam…on a piece of toast it tastes like apple pie. It’s so good especially if you use honey crisp or cosmic apples..” she says.

She holds out the blackberry jam, “this one is on the house…call it a getting to know you gift.” She tells him.

He watches as she picks up the blackberry jam, his eyes gazing at her for what feels like forever for him “you sure? I can pay for it of course, you work very hard for this I can’t imagine you’d be giving this up for free.”

Hotch was almost too mesmerized by her beauty to speak at this point he was still flustered and nervous. The feeling of her kindness and charm was making him feel as if he was floating and in a dream.

Y/N waved her hand dismissively, “don’t worry about it…usually Mable comes through here and pretty much buys me out for the holiday seasons.” She reassured him.

Hotch was still worried but at least he knew she wouldn’t be losing money if he took that blackberry jam. “If you say so…thank you Y/N.”

Hotch then looked around the market. He hadn’t yet noticed Derek and Penelope standing watching the scene unfold.

“You’re always welcome Aaron..” she said in a soft tone. She noticed the onlookers before letting out a small laugh. “Hey…I think we should get to know each other better..” she started. “If you want to that is..”

Hotch felt the world go still and quiet. Her words felt like honey dripping from her sweet lips. Her accent made his stomach grow with butterflies and warmth and her sweet tone was like the lullaby he had been needing to hear.

“I…I would like that.” He spoke firmly. But his voice had more confidence now as he couldn’t stop gazing at her.

Derek then taps Hotch on the shoulder, “come on Hotch, let’s not hog this lovely ladies time.”

She watched as Hotch was lead away by his friend as she waved goodbye. As Hotch was walking away while being pestered by Penelope and Derek for answers he turned the jar in his hand. His eyes widening for a second as he noticed the number on the back of the jam label.

***-***-****, we should get to know each other more <3

[skeelly]

"when im fat and old and my kids think im a joke"

"who cares if im pretty if i fail my finals??"

"who's your daddy?" (IYKYK ;))

"im tired and it's winter"

"i wish i could block me out"

"wanna die"

hi!! welcome. i suggest putting a seatbelt on and i will pay for your therapy, dont worry. :)

☘ "hi, it's me. im the problem it's me.": im kristen! you can call me kristen or kris. minor (im 14 if you really wanna know). she/her. intp-t. ambivert. 🇵🇭. reader (sort of). notes app writer (sometimes). i could not care less about my dumb typos so deal with it. i suck at math. biiiiiggg ophelia wilde fan. delulu swiftie no.9273737277. rodrigoxpartidge's biggest supporter. claire rosinkranz is the reason for my existence. gracie abrams ily. "how long can we be a sad song?". im married to grayson hawthorne. mirrorball//tolerate it girlie 4 life. stromboli fan until the day i die. nick girlie by heart. pjo stan at this point. harry potter simp. hermione granger is my mother. sherlock and enola holmes stan. "no body, no crime". haylor (sorry not sorry). one direction is my life. FREE PALESTINE. kenji, my spirit animal. jude is so ughhhhh perfect. javery shipper cause jameson for avery, grayson for me :3. massive k!nye west hater so if you like him, please leave. but i love rap. certified professional procrastinator. capricorn (not a believer in those things though). i love reading poetry. correct grammar = non existent. i can (technically) fluently speak 3 languages. i can speak (basic, not much) about 5 languages?. piano enthusiast. very big sport girly (football *soccer. america football can kiss my toes. that sport sucks*, f1, volleyball, badminton, basketball, tennis and hockey fan). walker scobell is perfect and i love him. c²>>>>. sharl leclerc. max the axe. oscar paistry. ankara messi. sewy. leah is my bestie. dior is the best artist no cap. pookie nation frfr. charlie's luke is best luke. andrew is underrated. olivea is jusssttt.

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☘ DNI: racists, homophobes, sexists and anyone that's ok with any form of discrimination

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@gergthecat (scouty) #evil batman sourdough guy #bread man #george

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[emberfrostlovesloki]

A Warm Bath [Hotch x Reader]

Photo credits: Left (@cozyreadings) Center (@weleavetomorrow) Right (@milla984)

Prompt: Aaron is having negative thoughts about his body and aging. The case the team faces puts Hotch’s physical ability on the line, as he attempts to save the BAU-reader from a violent fate. 

Pairing: [established relationship] Aaron x gender-neutral reader. The reader uses They/them pronouns. 

Category: Angst/comfort 

Word Count: 16K 

Content Warnings: Body image issues [mostly related to aging (Hotch)], brief mention of food and diet, mention of 2000s celebrity tabloids, multiple deaths [via dogs eating them], victim’s body parts are mentioned, animal cruelty [some dogs are described as living in bad conditions and being mistreated]. Animal death [dogs (not explicitly shown or described, but implied], a good bit of swearing and language, Hotch and the reader are naked in front of each other [no smut], and slight drinking.  

A/N: Hi loves! I’m back with another long, angsty fic. This was written for my love Rome (@criminalskies) from my December prompt list (linked) #28: Character A hears Character B sing for the first time. This was supposed to be short and sweet, and like most of my writing, it got a bit away from me, but in a way that I like. I will say I think this is a bit darker than some of my writing given the means of death, but I hope I handled it and the animal issues okay. If you know me, you know I love some insecure Hotch plus lots of angst, and I hope you find that here. Once more, thank you Rome for being my friend. ILY. If you like this story, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. I hope ya’ll have a great rest of the week. - Love Levi ❤️

P.S. There is a mention that the reader’s favorite song is Hozier’s “Unknown / Nth” If this is not your favorite song, feel free to substitute your own! 

List with all stories 

_y/n_ = your name 

_y/l/n_ = your last name

_y/f/c_ = your favorite candle 

Aaron stood in front of the full-length mirror in his bedroom. The mirror was half-steamed from the warm air and moisture seeping from the bathroom. The white towel draped over his hips sat in a way that did not reveal anything inappropriate. Those areas and his legs were not the spots on his body that bothered him. Those areas didn’t bother _y/n_ either. Not that any part of his body bothered _y/n_. When they were bare to each other, _y/n_ seemed to worship him in a manner that Aaron didn’t feel he deserved. Where these insecurities had arisen from. He was unsure or unwilling to explore. But he couldn’t stop judging his body as hard as he tried. He knew he had little time before _y/n_ would come back from the store. They had just gone on a small grocery run. The winter weather called for some soup and toasted sourdough, but Hotch had been woefully short in the bread department. Probably because he hadn’t bought it in weeks. He was trying to add more protein to his meals. Because it was December and flurries fell on the ground almost every day, Aaron’s daily runs had been cut, almost completely, out of his schedule. His body ached too much in the cold. His knees and back gave small pops of protest, and his chest was particularly sensitive around the scars left by Foyett. That attack had been over a year ago, but the pain lingered and reminded him of how weak he had been that day. How he’d been off his feet for weeks. He hadn’t liked his body after that spell either. Of course, he could always go to the Quanitco gym, but most of the men there were more built like Derek. Pumping iron in some unspoken competition of who could look better in a tank, shorts, and being sweaty. Even if Hotch could zone out while he did his workout, he just felt like he didn’t belong in that space anymore. ‘This is so stupid, Aaron, and you know it,’ his internal critic droned out. Hotch tried to still the voice and ran a hand over his stomach. He could still feel his muscles under the slight layer of fat, tissue, and skin. ‘At least you have that,’ the voice continued. Aaron pulled his hand away as if he was burned by his own body. Aaron had planned to move to his dresser and cover the body that was bothering him so much, but his face, cast in the soft glow of his lamps caught his attention as well. Hotch moved closer to the mirror. The bags under his eyes, crow's feet, and the small, grey hairs that peppered his dark locks seemed to bother him as much as the rest of his body. 

Aaron wasn’t dumb, far from it, but as he looked at his reflection, he couldn’t help but judge how age had changed not only his body but his face as well. Aaron hadn’t expected to age like a celebrity or anything; his work ensured that his body was worn down weekly, and the stress of the job did nothing for his frown lines. He knew late middle age would catch up with him one day, but he hadn’t expected it to be like this. The aches and pains, the look of wariness that haunted him. His reflection only mocked him. Reminded him that he wasn’t young anymore. His intrusive thoughts got louder: so loud that he didn’t notice when _y/n_ entered the room; cheeks flushed from the cold they had been in just a minute ago. _y/n_ was going to give a cheery, “I’m back!” But stopped in their tracks as they saw Aaron absorbed by the mirror. This wasn’t the first time they had seen him like this. Hotch tried to hide it in the morning when he showered, and _y/n_ brushed their teeth in the sink. They could see his eyes dart to the mirror for a second and then away like he was assessing himself negatively. They didn’t know when this had begun, but _y/n_ caught him doing it more and more recently. _y/n_ knew they would have to say something soon. Whatever was going on didn’t seem good for Aaron’s mental health. Realizing that now might be as good a time as any to breach the subject, _y/n_ cleared their throat and said, “See anything interesting over there, mister?” Of course, to _y/n_, Aaron clad in a towel was the same as looking at a statue of a Greek god, and him without a towel -- well, that could be blinding, but it seemed that Aaron was less than pleased with himself, and _y/n_ sought to understand why. Aaron’s eyes snapped to the side, realizing he’d been caught body-checking. Hotch turned and faked a half smile and said, “Hey, love. I felt something in my eye. I was trying to see it before I tried to wash it out in the sink.” The lie was so half-assed that Hotch wouldn’t have believed it. And _y/n_ was far too perceptive a partner and profiler to be taken in by a white lie. Aaron wasn’t even sure why he had lied. He assumed it was because it was embarrassing. He felt like a teenager looking at the cover of Stars where Miley Cyrus, or Brintey Spears, or Ann Hathoway’s heroine chic figures were splashed on the front page with the headline “Starlet gains pounds - Fan wonder where X fell off the wagon?” And below that would be the advert for a page about dieting or exercise. It was all too shameful to admit to something like that to _y/n_. _y/n_ matched his lie by stating, “Come here. Let me see if I can see what’s in your eye.” Aaron hesitated and stumbled through the response with, “Well, well I… I think it’s gone now, _y/n_. I’ll be okay. Just need to get some clothes on. Did you find the bread you wanted at the store?” He spoke quick as if he were trying to cover up some secret. _y/n_ tilted their head and raised a brow. In as gentle a voice that was also pseudo-commanding, they said, “Come sit with me on the bed for a second, Aaron.” 

Aaron listened to _y/n_, especially when they used that tone that was half-concerned and half-wary. Wary not for themself, but for him. It was rarely employed, but when _y/n_ did use it, he listened. He padded over to the side of the bed with _y/n_, and they both sat down. _y/n_ looked into his dark brown eyes. _y/n_ knew if they saw them in the light, they were tinted hazel. But that wasn’t what this was about. _y/n_ looked from him to the mirror and said, “That thing isn’t doing you any favors, Aaron. A reflection can be a cruel companion. Hotch flushed and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, _y/n_.” _y/n_ smiled softly and said, “How many times have you told me I’m not stupid when I doubt my logic on a case?” _y/n_ let that question hang in the room for a second before replying, “Hundreds at this point. And you know what? It’s true. Now I see how you look at yourself. Doubting. Hesitant like I am sometimes. You wear darker colors. I know what those things can mean. Aaron. Where is this coming from, love?” _y/n_ had only known Aaron to be confident since they started their relationship. There had been a small period of doubt after Foyett, but shortly after that, it had been replaced by rage. There was a short silence as Hotch looked at the soft woven blanket that covered his bed and then to the window. He watched the snow fall lazily to the ground. He sighed and said, “I feel different. My body, it feels different now.” _y/n_ placed a hand over his and gave it a squeeze. That got him to look at them. _y/n_ moved their hand from his hand to his defined jawline, running a hand down it before dropping it back to the bed. _y/n_ asked, “Did this start in December?” Hotch half nodded and said, “Kind of. I’ve felt it worse now that I’m not working out as much. It just happened so slowly. Age has hit me differently than I thought it would.” Somehow this wasn’t the conversation _y/n_ had planned on having today, but it wasn’t something that could be put off. Not with Aaron seeming so upset. _y/n_ asked, “What do you mean that it’s ‘different than you expected,’ exactly?” Hotch looked back at them and said, “I can feel my body changing in various ways. I don’t feel like I can perform the same way I did on the field. That if I’m put in a physical situation, I might fail.” _y/n_ resisted sighing. They knew how fragile a conversation this was and wanted to address it with care. _y/n_ held his gaze and said, “Hotch, you’re allowed to age. We all do. You’re the Unit Chief of the BAU. If Strauss had a problem with your performance, she’d tell you again. The team would tell you. You’re a competent, capable agent. As for your physical prowess, you’re strong, Aaron. Did you forget how you carried me over the huge puddle in the parking lot the other day because I was wearing my nice shoes?” At this, Aaron chuckled. He remembered it clearly, as Morgan had teased _y/n_ about getting their good leather shoes wet. But Aaron knew they didn’t want to get them wet half because they were very nice shoes and, also, because they had been an anniversary gift from him. At his laughter, the mood seemed to lighten. Even with that being the case, _y/n_ still worried about him; these types of thoughts, if he’d been having them long, didn’t bode well for the long term. _y/n_ leaned in and kissed him gently. They started at his neck and up his jawline. Aaron relaxed into the touch, and as _y/n_ pulled back, the look they gave him reassured him that _y/n_ meant every word they had just shared. _y/n _added, “Hotch, I think this is something that a professional should hear about if these types of thoughts continue. If they make you feel bad about yourself?” Aaron let out a sigh, and said, “You’re right, _y/n_. I’ll speak to someone if I start feeling this way again. Thanks for the affirmation. I didn’t know I needed it that much.” _y/n_ smiled at him and ran a hand over his right arm. _y/n_ was about to suggest taking a warm bath together to decompress from that conversation, but before the words could come out. Aaron’s phone rang. 

Hotch stood and moved to his nightstand. He swiped to answer the call and put the cell to his ear saying, “Agent Hotchner. There was a pause, and then he said, “Yes. Got it. Be there in a few, JJ. Have you called the rest of the team? … Okay, and yeah, _y/n_’s here. We’ll be over soon. … Okay, bye.” Once Aaron hung up, he moved decidedly to his drawer. He dropped the towel and pulled on his briefs and an undershirt before moving to his clotheshorse that held his outer shirts, suit jackets, and pants. _y/n_ didn’t even have time to admire his nude body, as they needed to change into their formal attire as well. _y/n_ moved into his closet, changed, and unlocked the gun safe, pulling Aaron’s two guns out for him with their sidearm. _y/n_ called from the closet, “Does it sound bad?” the audible sigh from Aaron in the next room told _y/n_ all they needed to know about the type of case that had just landed at the BAU’s door. Twenty minutes later, Aaron and _y/n_, plus the rest of the team were seated in the conference room with JJ and Aaron standing up front and Penelope running the slideshow from the far side of the table. Hotch looked at his media liaison for a second almost for reassurance before saying, “I’m just going to show you the photos first. I think once you see them, you’ll know more about the type of person we are dealing with. Aaron rarely prefaced the photos attached to the case, so the team looked with some anticipation at the screen. Garcia clicked for the next slide and everyone, even Hotch, cringed at the gruesome, bloodied, almost unidentifiable body parts of one victim. Then the next, and the next, and the next. The victims varied in skin color, build, and sex. There were three female victims and one male victim. Each of the deceased was missing various parts of their bodies. Since their bodies were so exposed, half-eaten, the elements had only decomposed the bodies faster. Aaron gave the team enough time to see the photos on the big screen before having Garcia turn the screen off. Hotch said, “As you can see, we’re dealing with something strange here. The coroner knows it’s some kind of wild animal, and we are waiting on the diagnostic report from the hospital two counties over. Some of the victims were so badly mauled that teeth prints had to be taken to identify the victims. We know all of their identities. Hotch nodded to JJ, who had Garcia show regular photos of Katerina Lia, Jeffre Domingez, Sherry Paine, and Dusty Hoffner. When this was done, Hotch continued, saying, “Their profiles and the photos can be found in your files after the briefing. The police in Kansas were hesitant to call us the first two times, as they thought it might just be a tragic accident by a wild animal, and they involved the Game and Fisheries authorities as well as contacting State Troopers. The few parts of the first victim were found strewn on the main street and although it seemed unlikely, the authorities wanted to rule out the possibility that it wasn’t a wild animal, or pack of animals first. Given the external damage to the bodies, it’s unlikely that it’s only one dog or coyote. In the following two weeks, the three other bodies were found in similar popular areas in town, like the park, outside the movie theater, and at the middle school. After that, there was no denying that this was just a wild animal. Thus we were called, but a bit later than I would have liked. But that’s what we’re working with. This case is undoubtedly an odd one, but the unsub seems to be amping up his kills, and if we don’t stop them quickly, well, we’ve seen what happens. Now. Wheels up in thirty.” 

The team scattered to their desks, each repulsed by what they had seen. _y/n_ was so grossed out that they even skipped getting coffee for the plane. _y/n_’s mind kept flashing to whoever had found each of the bodies. Probably a young worker moving to clean the theater for the first matinee show. Or a janitor or coach arriving early in the morning trying to get some extra work done. This fact twisted _y/n_’s stomach even more, as they grabbed for their go bag from the deep drawer in their desk, plus the pair of tennis shoes that they always stuffed in their duffle. It constantly bothered _y/n_  that not only the victims that the BAU saw were often minorities of some kind, but those who found them also often lived in difficult situations or worked hard jobs. This irked _y/n_ more than they would admit. _y/n_ found it hard seeing the gore and violence they did, and they were acclimatized to the sight. How could a normal person recover from seeing such a thing? It seemed insurmountable to them. The possibility that dogs might be involved in some way also twisted _y/n_ insides. They loved animals, and using man’s best friend in such a brutal manner felt more than psychotic. As _y/n_ stood up, they were surprised by Aaron, who already had his go bag and briefcase ready. He looked at _y/n_ and noticed their visible distress. He asked, “Are you alright?” He brushed a hand over theirs, and _y/n_ replied, “Yeah. This case is just weird. It feels different. But I can’t put a finger on it yet.” Aaron nodded and said, “We’ll look out for each other on this one. I promise.” _y/n_knew what Hotch meant by “look out for each other,” was “I’ll look out for you, okay?” _y/n_ nodded, reassured by his words and continued support. Hotch held out his hand for their duffle, and _y/n_ gave it to him. Aaron swung the bag over his shoulder and waited for _y/n_ to follow him to the airstrip. He didn’t need to do this but felt that _y/n_ might need some extra support right now. He didn’t blame them. He’d dropped a load on their shoulders this morning, and now they had this case. It felt like a lot, even to him. So he was going to be there for _y/n_ -- even if it was just physical closeness. 

On the jet, the team debriefed about what their initial thoughts were. Spencer had stats on the town and how rare animal attacks were one in every 70,000 deaths a year. Derek mentioned how the bite marks looked like dog bites. Morgan had seen a few bad bites in his previous Chicago beat. After the debrief, the team slipped into their normal groups. Em moved to JJ’s side. Reid and Morgan found each other, and _y/n_ put on some wired headphones and pulled out the brief again. As much as _y/n_ found the team's chatter comforting when a case troubled them, they found silence or an easy soundtrack or song to help them focus on the case. Aaron settled next to Dave and Emily. The trio started talking about Cottonwood Falls, its population, and the type of police force they should expect there. Small towns often called in State Troopers to help with bigger investigations, which just meant more bureaucratic red tape; something that all three agents were all too familiar with. Hotch looked over his team and _y/n_ sitting near the back of the jet. He was sure that _y/n_ that they were either listening to white noise or one of their five playlists which mostly consisted of Hozier and other music in that genre. Aaron appreciated _y/n_’s need to find moments of calm and clarity at the start of cases. When they had first joined the team, Aaron had overheard _y/n_ speaking to Garcia about feeling weird about isolating themself from the team early on in the case, but it helped to ground them in the new whirlwind of events. They liked to annotate the brief written by JJ and thoroughly look at the photos. This often helped later on as trends or niche things from the crime scene would be useful if the team got stuck. Aaron listened in as Penelope said, “Sweetheart, everyone has their own method. Your contribution to the case is essential and, however, you need to do that is fine. I promise. Stick around this group for long enough, and you’ll see that we all have our strange habits.” Aaron had been thankful and was still thankful for Garcia for being so uplifting and understanding of the team. Together they made an odd group, but it worked. The next case after that conversation had happened, Hotch had made sure to shoot _y/n_ a hint of a smile as they distanced themself to read the case file beginning to end -- pen and highlighter in hand. It was a similar scene now, as _y/n_ opened the case file and looked at the brief. It read:  

Location: Cottonwood Falls, Kansas, USA

Population: 851 

Victim No.: 4 

Names of Victims: Dusty Hoffner, F (28), Jeffre Domingez, M (39), Katerina Lia, F (45)

 Sherry Paine, F (19).

Victim’s Occupations: Unknown. 

Report of crimes thus far: On December 15th at 5:00 a.m. A local refuse worker (Jim Vaunt) found a mangled left hand near a trashcan on Locust and Union St. He quickly called the police, who quickly arrived. Mr. Vaunt and the officers were disturbed to find other body parts of the first victim (Katerina). The areas where body parts were found were condoned off, and a thorough search went out looking for a wild animal. The residents were informed, and school was canceled for the day. Little progress was made and the next week, the three other victims were found in similar states of decomposition and decay. Though the cooler weather and frost have kept some of the body parts better preserved. The town is in a panic, with parents pulling their children from school early and groups going looking at local farms for any animals. This had resulted in the death of one family dog that had gotten loose earlier on the afternoon of the 17th. The State Troopers have been called in. Two town meetings have been held, but little progress has been made so far. 

_y/n_ then moved back to the vile photos. Sherry’s stood out the most as she was the youngest victim. One photograph of her left hand showed that she had been wearing bubble gum pink nail polish. It was slightly chipped from wear. _y/n_ frowned at a life so young being snuffed out in such a brutal, literally animalistic, fashion. It wasn’t fair. But that was where the BAU came in; _y/n_ reflected. Not that they could change the past, but at least they could ensure that the human who committed such atrocities paid for their choices. There was a reassurance in that. When _y/n_ had finished taking notes and looking at the crime scene photos, they paused their playlist and took off the headphones. _y/n_ grabbed their file and moved over to Derek and Spencer to see what they were thinking. Now _y/n_ was ready to add their voices to the preliminary profile being built. As the jet cruised toward the small landing strip a few miles from Cottonwood Falls, the team all felt anticipation, an undercurrent of tension at what would face them in the small town below. 

Cottonwood Falls was as small and quiet as Spencer had described. But it wasn’t a peaceful quiet. It was a disquiet. The team saw large groups of men sitting in the backs of various trucks, holding shotguns, and scowling as the Chase County Police Department got closer. The team didn’t see any children out, and the schoolyard and playgrounds lay quiet. Devoid of kids. It made sense, of course, four unknown people had been torn apart, literally. _y/n_, who was in an SUV with Spencer, Derek, and JJ, hoped that there would be more information once they got to the stations. _y/n_ was right as the team was slightly heard into the station, Sheriff Welsh had hastily introduced himself to the team, with Aaron running as the point man. Sheriff Welsh seemed more prepared than most small-town cops who had a bizarre crime happen in their jurisdiction. A whole corner of the department was dedicated to the case, with multiple maps and boards up on the walls with the photos neatly grouped. The information that they already had was neatly placed on two pop-up card tables. The Sherrif had the team stand near the tables, and the dark-haired man said, “I have two new bits of information to share with you now that you folks are here. The first is that although it’s not growing season, we still have some workers that hop from farm jobs to far jobs through the slow season. It turns out Katerina Lia was one of those workers. A farmer in Olathe noticed her picture in the paper and called us, saying that she had signed a two-week contract for his sorghum harvest. It was late in the year, and he needed fewer workers, but Katerina was one of them. Also, though this is a small town, we do get tourists driving through because the highway runs toward Wichita and Topeka on either side of us. So I’m thinking that these might be some people or visitors hoping to pass through and something went horribly, horribly wrong. The other big item is that the coroner has stated that the cause of death was bleeding out and shock, and the bite marks found on the body were made by dogs. Various breeds and sizes, but for sure, it was dogs.” The horrible idea seemed to weigh the Sheriff down. It made him look ill. Hotch absorbed the information and quickly said, “Thank you for those updates. For now, I’m going to send my team to various sites to gather data and when we have more information and regrouped, we’ll present a preliminary profile for yourself and your officers.” Aaron could see the question, “What’s a preliminary profile coming,” and stopped the man saying, “And I promise to explain all of the practical jargon this afternoon if that’s alright?” The Sheriff raised his hands and said, “You got it. I’m just grateful ya’ll came out here to the sticks. Take all the time you need. There are three SUVs that you can use.” Aaron nodded and signaled to the team. He stated clearly, “Morgan, Reid, you go to the hospital and look at the victims. See if there’s anything we’re missing about them. Anything that might give us a location of death. Em, JJ, you go check any animal shelters in the area. Then call the school and theater. See if you can interview the janitor and employee who found the victims. Rossi and _y/n_, come with me. We’ll check out the other two sites and see if the vets around town have had any reports of wild or rabid dogs in the last two weeks.” The team understood their roles and moved to their respective cars. Just before Hotch had stepped outside, keys in hand, he asked Weiss, “How many farmers have dogs around here?” The Sheriff shrugged his shoulders and said, “Heck, all of them that I can think of. I’d be stupid not to.” Aaron nodded and let out a sigh. He realized that it was going to be harder to track down the dogs than he might have thought, but the method of killing was so specific that he hoped they could at least find the unsub quickly. Someone in a  town this small had to know something. 

There was a shocking amount of vets in such a confined space. However, it made sense given how much livestock there was in the farming and ranching community. Be it hobby farms or cattle, those animals needed care. As they were driving to meet Mr. Vaunt for an interview, _y/n_ had an idea and called Penelope. _y/n_ put the techie on speaker, and Garcia answered with, “Hello, my loves. How can the Office of Supreme Intelligence assist you today?” _y/n_ couldn’t help but smile at Penelope's pep, and said, “Can you compile a list of people that visit and more importantly adopt dogs regularly in the surrounding towns and counties? It probably won’t be all at the same time, maybe two or three weeks apart.” _y/n_ caught Hotch’s eyes in the rearview. He gave them a nod of approval at thinking of this. After a short pause, Garcia said, “I’ll have to get back to you on that my sweet. These small towns seem to have fewer electronic records, but that doesn’t mean I can’t find them somewhere. I’ll get back to you when I have something.” Before Garcia hung up, Aaron said, “Garcia, nothing illegal,” in a semi-stern tone. Penelope let out a bright laugh and said, “You got it, Hotch.” After that call, the day seemed to slip by quickly. By the end of it, the team had discovered and then presented to the small police force that the unsub was most likely a white male in his mid-thirties, a recluse or someone that rarely came into town, owned land to hold a pack of dogs who had at least five large canines. The land potentially had a field of tall June grass, as lots had been found on the victims' clothing, thanks to Spencer’s keen eye, and the unsub was only targeting out-of-towners. Lastly, if the man finds another person to kill, he will take the chance to do so again without remorse as the unsub was most likely a psychopath. After the basic profile was delivered, the team worked late into the night. They speculated that the unsub might have had a bad incident with a dog in his past, or some significant trauma with an animal of some kind. Emily recommended going back to the hospital in the morning to see if there were any medical records of such an event happening around thirty years ago. Hotch agreed and made preliminary assignments for the morning. With nothing else to really go on, the team headed to their motel to turn in for the night. It was odd getting to bed before two a.m. on a case, but this was not a normal case. In his room, Hotch showered and changed. He slumped into bed, trying to ignore looking in the mirror, at this body again. It was hard for him to imagine that it had just been that morning that _y/n_ had reminded him how much they loved him in his entirety. It was funny to Hotch how quickly he forgot those things. Aaron rolled onto his stomach, grabbed his phone, which was charging, and texted _y/n_ simply writing, “I love you, _y/n_. Sleep well.” He read the quick reply of, “Love you too, Aaron,” before he turned off his lamp, set his alarms, and attempted to sleep. Aaron was having a hard time with his rest and he sat up. He moved to the door and down the hallway. He knocked on _y/n_’s door and he could see the lamps still burning bright in their room. _y/n_ let him in, headphones still in their ears. Hotch slumped down on their bed, comforted to be in _y/n_’s calming presence. They didn’t bother him as he closed his eyes. They sat down and kept reading over their notes, again, and again, and again. Aaron could hear _y/n_ tapping along with the beat of their playlist on their leg. He knew the rhythm well at this point and it lulled him to sleep as _y/n_ kept thinking deep into the night. 

The dawn woke the team, and everyone was relieved to find that there wasn’t a new victim. That didn’t mean there wouldn’t be, but they would strive to make sure it didn’t happen again. At the precinct, the team drank the poor-grade coffee and talked briefly about how quiet the town was at night. Spencer had stayed up all night and heard an owl and one time the barking of a dog. The genius had admitted that even that had him scared. Of course, Morgan had made fun of Spencer for this, except he had to eat his words because one of the police dogs had barked right after his joke, and Derek nearly jumped out of his skin. That had brought a moment of lightness to a very grim case. The team, little did they know it, would need that for the rest of the day, and their time in Kansas. 

Rossi suggested to Aaron that he, Derek, and Aaron go and speak to some of the men running their patrols looking for dogs. _y/n_ suggested she and Emily go and check the medical records, and JJ decided to try and contact the farmer who had employed Katerina to get more information while Spencer found maps of the area. He wanted to see if there were any large swaths of June grass in the surrounding areas, and the lean agent knew he could guess pretty well with a topological map where large patches of the native grass would grow. Aaron agreed, and everyone moved to their respective tasks. Hotch, Morgan, and Dave were told by the sheriff that most of the menfolk had met at a local dive bar down the street, made plans, and then drove out for the day to ‘explore.’ Aaron thanked the man for the information, and his group headed out. The dive bar was ironically called Shooters. The theme of the place was hunting-oriented with mounted deer heads and some old-style rifles adorning the walls. The proprietor, who was standing behind the bar was potbellied and red-cheeked. He seemed more chipper than appropriate. but Derek assumed it was because he had the room half full with lots of people holding beers or shots in front of them. The place was tackily decorated for Christmas with a small tree in the corner and lights up on the walls. One of the deer heads had a Santa hat askew on its head. Morgan and Rossi moved to speak to the owner of the bar. Aaron began talking to a few of the men, showing his badge when questioned. As Hotch moved toward another group, he noticed a small faded flyer. It had the picture of an English Springer Spaniel with a duck in its mouth. The blocky, white text read: “Here to hunt at the Lodge on Route 75? Make your time here more fun and successful by renting a purebred hunting dog! $80/day, including drop off and pick up at your designated hunting site. Call: 390-785-0092 for inquiries. There was no name attached to the flyer. Aaron moved to the man behind the bar and asked, “Do you know who put up that advertisement?” The man looked at where Hotch was pointed and took on a reflective gaze before nodding and saying in a deeply accented voice, “Yeah. That’s Jeff Karon’s side business. Man has corn and wheat crops, but in the summer we get swamped with hunters and he breeds dogs on the side for some extra cash. He’s an odd one. Lives way out there past the town limits.” Hotch nodded and wrote down the name and number. He would call Penelope and see what she came up with as well as speaking with Sheriff Weiss when they returned to the station. 

_y/n_ and Emily at the hospital started to make converging discoveries with Hotch. The pair sat in the medical records room. A kind nurse had pulled out some boxes from the 1990s that she remembered being memorable cases for such a small town. After an hour they found nothing and moved to put the boxes back in the correct place. However, as they had quickly been putting the files back in chronological order, one folder was misplaced. It was much older than the rest. The front read Jeffery C. Karon 1958 - Infected Dog Bite. Emily let out a laugh, and _y/n_ turned to face her and said, “What is it?” As they put a box away on top of a dusty old one, Prentiss replied, “A file in the wrong box. Coincidentally it sounds related to the case.” _y/n_ stepped off of the one small step they needed to reach the tall, top shelf and walked over to Emily saying, “Let’s look at it. We’ve almost looked at every other file in here anyway. Maybe we can learn something.” Pretiness scoffed and opened the file as _y/n_ stood at her shoulder. However, after both agents' eyes skimmed over the first paragraph, they realized that they might have stumbled across something important. The patient data was typed and the case notes were written in cursive. They read read: 

The young boy of twelve was bitten pretty severely by a rabid dog in the wheat field on the father’s farm in Oldsdaile. Ten stitches were needed to seal the wound and a rabies shot was given along with a course of antibiotics. There was a note about the patient’s father and then something about how if the wound wasn’t cleaned and cared for carefully, the boy could develop an infection in the bone and might need major surgery or worse. 

_y/n_ and Pretiss looked at each other and then the photo of the young boy on a sepia-toned brownish grey. Emily grabbed the file and said, “Let’s ask around and see if anyone knows who this Jeffery Karon is.” The two agents moved to the nurse in charge of records and _y/n_ asked, “Ma’am. We found a file accidentally misplaced, but we think this person might be helpful to our investigation and the recent deaths. Do you or anyone here have any idea who this person is? If they still live around here?” The nurse took the file and looked it over. She said, “Just a moment, let me ask around.” Em and _y/n_ waited for a few minutes and the nurse returned and said, “Sorry but no one here seems to know who this is. Our old doctor. Dr. Anderson. who just retired and moved to Texas to be with his grandkids would know. I would recommend going to the town hall and looking at the records there. I can also print you a copy of this file and give Dr. Anderson’s number. Just don’t spread any of this around -- And Dr. Anderson is notorious for not answering his phone. He never really learned to use one, but perhaps that’s changed now that he’s around some youngsters.” Both agents thanked the nurse for her help and waited for the copy of the medical file and the number. It was only a few minutes before Emily and _y/n_ were back in the car and headed to the station. Instead of going to the town hall, Prentiss and _y/l/n_ decided to call Garcia instead. Before they came to that choice, they reflected how small-town cases were so different from those in the city. How they offered a change of pace to the often hectic cases in sprawling metropolises. Not that this case wasn’t urgent, just different. Emily was driving, so _y/n_ pulled out their phone to call Garcia, but just as they started to dial, Penelope called _y/n_. _y/l/n_ said, “Speak of the devil,” as they smiled and swiped answers. Garcia, always her chipper self said, “Alrighty my little chickens. It took me a while. but looking at the ten adjacent counties surrounding Cottonwood Falls there was a startling pattern. One man seems to go into these shelters and has been adopting a surprising amount of dogs that are up for euthanization. But the dude is picky. He only takes in big breeds from Shepards to Heelers to Great Danes. You name it. If it’s a big dog and it seems on its last legs, this guy will take it in.” Emily asked, “What’s this dude's name?” Garcia replied, “Jeffery Karon.” Prentiss and _y/n_ looked at each other knowingly. Both simultaneously thought, ‘Bingo.’ _y/n_ let out a sigh and said, “How many dogs are we talking about here? And how often are they being adopted?” Penelope clicked a few keys on her computer and said, “I’d say three to four a month. So maybe thirty-six a year. But some months there are no adoptions. I don’t know how one man can care for so many dogs. Feeding them alone must cost an absorbent sum each month.” _y/n_ didn’t say it but thought, ‘One way to cut costs would be to not feed them. Thus the need to adopt so many dogs.’ They thought back to the photos of the victims. They all had really been torn apart. The image of that happening was to sickening to the stomach and _y/n_ cleared her throat and said, “As always Garcia, you’re the best. We’re pulling up the precinct now and it looks like Hotch is back too, so I’ll call you with any updates when I can.” Garcia replied, “Anything for you sweetness, and I texted you the dude’s address too. It’s headed to your phone as we speak. Supreme genius out.” Emily put the car in park and they both jumped out. They both had a lot to share. 

As the pair got inside _y/n_ realized that Hotch, Morgan, and Rossi had also just gotten back as well. Emily let out a breath behind them. The brunette was excited to share their news and said, “I think we might have our guy!” The three men, and JJ and Spencer in the back looked over at her. Hotch spoke first and asked, “Is his name Jeffrey Karon?” Aaron’s statement seemed to take the wind out of Emily’s sails and she replied, “Hey. How’d you know?” The small sub-teams merged, and they all got updated on what they had all learned that morning. When everyone was caught up, the team moved to Sherrif Weiss. Aaron asked the head of the police department, with a copy of Jeff’s childhood photo, “Do you know this man? Jeffrey C. Karon?” The Sheriff nodded after a moment and replied, “Yeah. Yeah, I do. He’s an odd one. He’s lived on the farm his father, Jean Karon lived on. It’s a farm out in the boonies. Jean’s wife died in childbirth and from what I understand, Jean wasn’t exactly dad material. So it was just those two for a long time. Then the town they lived in dissolved. Too many people moved out in the 70’s. A few years after that, Cottonwood Falls proposed taking the land into our county. By that point old man Karon was pretty worn out and sickly, but he was vehemently against reintegration. He waged a moral war on the idea and, well he kind of died while losing that battle and Oldsdaile became part of Cottonwood Falls. That left his twenty-year-old son with the farm and a small sum of cash the man had stored away. Jeffrey tried to go away and get an education at a local college. He fell in love with a girl. I couldn’t tell you why, but Jeff dropped out of school and brought his new wife back with him. Allegedly they had a kid together, but anytime I’ve visited that farm I’ve never seen a kid. So I guess when Jeff’s wife inevitably left him, she must have taken the kid with her. And honestly, good for her. I wouldn’t want to spend a long time out there either. But I haven’t honestly seen Jeff in over two years. Guess he ended up a recluse like his father.” The Sheriff gave a whistle after the long monologue. The Sheriff had almost forgotten the wheat farm on the far outskirts of town. The whole team took a second to absorb that the Sheriff had described the perfect unsub. Breaking from their shared trance, Hotch emphatically asked, “Where does Mr. Karon live!” As the Sheriff murmured, “Let me look. I haven’t thought of him in a long while.” While the man was puttering about, _y/n_ pulled up her phone and said, “I have it Hotch. Penelope sent it to me while we were on the way back here.” Aaron shot _y/n_ a small smile and said, “We’ll need LEOs for this Sheriff Weiss. Five men at least.” The law enforcement officer looked at Aaron with apprehension and asked, “You think Jeff is our guy?” The look Hotch shot Weiss was enough to shut the man up and then turn and order two cop cars and five officers to accompany the BAU team on their trip out to the isolated farm. 

The white SUVs and two cop cars rushed down the isolated dirt and gravel road. The Karon farm was a good thirty-five minutes outside of town set on an isolated road that left the highway. As they moved down the road. _y/n_ noticed that random patches of the tall grass seemed pressed down or pushed aside unnaturally. Hotch was driving too fast for them to see what was happening but after the third time seeing the phenomena, _y/n_ called out, “Aaron, stop for a second. Somethings off on the side of the road.” Hotch threw _y/n_ a look with his classic raised eyebrow from the front. His sunglasses were blocking his eyes but after a moment, he slowed to a roll and then a stop. _y/n_ jumped out of the car with Morgan, who was also in the middle row of the car. Derek called out, “What did you see, _y/n_?” As they both ran toward another place where the grass looked odd. _y/n_ didn’t need to answer him as they pushed the tall grass aside to reveal a long wooden board with over two dozen nails pounded through the wooden beam. Morgan whistled and said, “Well that’ll stop a car alright. How many of these have you spotted already kid?” _y/n_ looked up at Derek and said, “This makes four.” The pair of agents didn’t disturb the plank in case it was needed for evidence later, and they both jogged back to the stalled car. Once inside, Morgan said, “Hotch there’s a homemade parking block spikes in the grass, and _y/n_ spotted three more before that one.” Aaron nodded and then started the car again. As he pushed the gas pedal, he said, “We did wonder how he got his victims out of their cars. Maybe they get turned around and go ask for help, but then get a flat instead. Aaron turned briefly and looked at _y/n_ and said, “Good catch. Keep a count of how many of those you see as we keep getting closer to the house.” After another four minutes, the cars reached an old rushing iron gate with a big sign in the font that read: “PRIVATE PROPERTY - DO NOT ENTER: BEWARE OF DOGS!!!” The line, “Beware of dogs,” sent a chill down everyone’s spine. Aaron attempted calling the home number twice, which Penelope had also dug up for the team, but nobody picked up, and there was no option for voice mail. One of the police officers got out of his cruiser with a pair of bolt cutters and broke open the chain that held the fence closed. The gate made a terrible screeching sound that had the team’s skin crawl. All of the cars pulled into the drive. The house was a simple farm-style house, painted white with green accents. All of the paint was badly chipped and there was a large truck parked out front. It seemed to be the only sign of life on that part of the farm. Aaron got on the radio and spoke to the other car saying, “Everyone’s wearing their FBI vests here, and everyone has weapons drawn. We can’t be sure what we’ll find in the house or on the farm. Lastly, no one, and I mean no one goes off alone. Rodger?” There was a crackle on the line and Emily replied, “Got it, Hotch.” As the team stepped out of the cars, a symphony of howling and then barking could be heard from the house Everyone went on the defensive. Hotch pulled out his microphone and stepped a few feet closer to the glass and screen door. _y/n_ followed after him a few paces. From their angle, they could see what looked like three to four big dogs at the door barking up a storm. _y/n_ had their gun aimed at the door. If something went wrong, they would have a bead on one of the dogs and would shoot if it came to that. They prayed it wouldn’t. Rossi sidled up next to _y/n_, they felt better knowing they weren’t alone in keeping Aaron safe as he clicked on the microphone and said, “Jeffrey Karon. This is Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. If you’re inside I’m giving you three minutes to restrain your dogs and come out of your home with your hands up. I’m starting a timer now.” Aaron’s voice echoed across the face of the house and the yard. It was a very tense minute and thirty seconds as the dogs continued to bray at the agents and police officers. 

It felt like an eternity before one of the windows on the side of the house revealed a haggard-looking man who shouted, “Get off my goddamn property before I get a shotgun and shoot you, people. ‘Tis is an ‘nvastion of ma rights. My God-given rights ‘ye hear me!” All eyes turned to the window and again, Aaron stepped forward and said, “You don’t have any right Mr. Karon. You’re suspected of five counts of first-degree murder and tampering with remains. Now come downstairs and restrain your dogs or my team and I will come in and do what we have to restrain you. And I don’t think you’re so stupid to not know what will happen to you if you do try and get a gun.” Jeffrey was red-faced and spluttered, but in a half-show, Aaron looked at his watch and said, “You have a minute and a half left,” then Hotch angled his gun at the front door. Of course, _y/n_ knew that Aaron wouldn’t shoot one of Mr. Karon’s dogs unless it was a life-or-death scenario, but Mr. Karon didn’t. Hotch’s threat was enough to have the man at the window shout, “Fine, fine I’m coming. Don’t shoot the dogs. God damn you. I’m suing if anything happens to those dogs!” Aaron lowered the sidearm and let out a breath, slightly surprised that his strategy had worked. The team watched with bated breath as Jeff moved down the stairs slowly. He looked like he was in pain, as he walked with a significant limp, gripping the white stair rail tightly. The man called his dogs loudly enough for the team to hear him say, “Here boys, here.” At the call of their owner, the dogs all moved away from the door and to the foot of the stairs. Now that they were farther back, _y/n_ could see that it was five dogs, not three. All of the canines' tails seemed to wag happily as they saw their owner. Jeff petted all of them and seemed to give them a treat from the pocket of his robe. Something the older man said had the dogs stop barking. Jeff moved toward the door and Aaron and the team stepped onto the porch. Aaron looked at Jeff as the man moved to open the door. Hotch gripped the handle and closed it as soon as the man tried to open it. Aaron said clearly, “Put your dogs on leads and attach those leads to the stair rail.” Jeff blustered and said, “My dogs don’t go on lead. No State Commie can make me do that.” Hotch glared at the man and said, “They go on leads when I say they do. If you don’t do as I say I’ll add intentionally delaying a state investigation to your list of charges. Do you want the state looking into you more than we already are, Mr. Karon?” Jeff furrowed his brow and turned. The man who had tanned and spotted skin like many men who spent hours in the sun let out a litany of curse words as he moved to the other side of the room and grabbed five old faded leads. Again, the team watched as he moved painfully toward his dogs and one by one attached the lead to their collar and then tied the collars to the staircase. This took about seven minutes and finally, Aaron motioned for Rossi and _y/n_ to follow him as they breached the door. There was some chaos as Hotch cuffed Jeff and the dogs barked at seeing their owner get angry and yell again. Aaron twisted Karon’s arm uncomfortably and said, “I’d put a rag in it and answer any questions asked to you, Mr. Karon.” The added pain had the farmer shut up for a second before the man spit at Aaron’s shoes and said, “I’ll shut up. I want a lawyer. You big city types think you can break into an honest man’s house and threaten him, well. We’ll see about that, Special Agent Hotchner.” Jeffrey seemed to have a glint of malice in his eyes, and Aaron pushed him toward one of the officers, not letting the threat affect him. Aaron told the officer he handed Karon off to, “Put him in the back of one of the cruisers and read him his Miranda’s. If he says anything, record it. Anything could be important in this case. And once you're done that, take the dogs out and attach them to the wooden railing on the poach. Make sure they have shade and water.” The officer looked a little hesitant but nodded and began hauling Jeffrey off. 

Now that the house seemed quiet, Aaron had the team split up into groups of two and look over the whole abode. Even though the dogs and Karon were out of the house, that didn’t mean that they dropped their guard. As the echoes of “Clear” rang through the upstairs and downstairs, the team seemed to lighten up. The most interesting things in the house were the profound amount of liquor bottles in the bedroom and kitchen, as well as the cabinet full of assorted pain meds in the bathroom. It was obvious to Spencer, Emily, and _y/n_ that Karon was self-medicating. If it was just for the leg injury that he had gotten as a child or something more, they couldn’t know until someone interviewed the potential unsub. Spencer took a moment too long looking at the multiple narcotics bottles for _yn_’s comfort and they gently said, “I’ve got this Spencer. Why don’t you help Morgan.” Reid looked at _y/n_ with a hint of gratitude and nodded softly saying, “Thanks, _y/n_.” _y/n_ just smiled at him and said, “No prob, Spence.’ With that, Spencer left the bathroom while Emily was looking over the bedroom. _y/n_ gave a small sigh. They knew Reid was clean, and had been for a few years now, but they knew how easy it was to fall back into bad habits, and alleviating any possibility was the least they could do for their friend. But the most interesting thing in the house was the little boy’s room on the first floor next to the living room. The pastel-blue walled room was caked in dust. So much that Hotch had a coughing fit for three minutes after leaving the room. It was hard to tell if it was Karon’s old room or his supposed son’s. Garcia hadn’t been able to find a record of Jeffrey Karon having a son, but she did find a name and address for his ex-wife who now lived in Tennessee. Hotch was beginning to think that the story about Mr. Karon having a son was a local legend of some kind. A story passed around about the strange old recluse with a tragic backstory who lived at the edge of town. Either way, the room being so well preserved and unused would prove helpful in trying to crack Jeffrey in the interview process. The child’s room meant something to him. When the house had been gone through, the team spread out in groups of two again to search the rest of the large thirty-acre property. 

Behind the house was an ATV with the keys still in the ignition. Derek speculated that that was the easiest way to navigate the bumpy roads between the fields. The largest wheat field had two barns on one side of it. The first barn was for a large group of chickens that squawked when Spencer and Derek entered the smelly space. The other barn seemed to have regular farming equipment and feed for the assortment of animals that resided on the land. However, as _y/n_ moved a rake through the deep chicken feed containers, something snagged on the tines of the object. Pulling the tool up revealed a very tattered shirt sleeve. _y/n_ called in and let the team know what she’d found. Emily was up in the hayloft and said, “_y/n_, there’s a pillow and blanket up here too. Let the team know I think someone might be sleeping up here.” _y/n_ acknowledged Prentiss and let the team know the new information. Once Em had documented the small and narrow loft space, which was barely seven boards wide and could be accessed by a  ladder, she climbed down to help _y/n_ to see if they could find anything else in the grain bins. As it turned out, a lot more was to be found including shoes, pants, IDs of the victims, and cash. Not only did they find the personal identification of all of the victims so far,  but they found three new IDs and a passport of victims, who had not yet been found or reported missing. 

The last metaphorical nail in Jeffrey Karon’s case was when Aaron and Rossi plus two other officers neared the oldest and largest barn on the other side of the wheat field which Spencer aptly pointed out had been tilled and Blue grass had been planted as a filler crop until next planting season. Neither car needed to even roll down its windows, as they neared the barn and heard the near-constant cacophony of barking and growling that filled the air in a disorganized symphony of sound. All four men drew their guns again. Obviously, they couldn’t just open the barn doors because Aaron didn’t know how the dogs inside this barn were being contained, or if they were contained at all. The BAU men moved around the barn, and Rossi found a ladder that would let them look up and into the barn’s higher windows. Aaron and Rossi moved the ladder to the window. Dave kept the ladder steady and Hotch climbed up to the dusty glass. Aaron slipped off his sunglasses and used his keen sight to look into the dim barn. He could see that one-third of the barn was empty but the other two-thirds had a strong very tall metal fence containing the bodies of a dozen dogs or more moving, writhing, and barking at the almost darkness. Every now and then one of the canine’s teeth would catch the light of the window Hotch was looking in, and Aaron couldn’t help but imagine how those teeth felt tearing into a human's flesh. The idea revolted him. He caught something odd, a red glowing light on the front of the cage. Aaron called for a pair of binoculars which were quickly brought to him. Hotch carefully shot out the windows which only set the dogs inside off more, but without the glass in the way and with the aid of the binoculars, he could see that there was a locking mechanism on the front of the padded gate. This reassured Aaron that they could get into the barn, but it only added that Jeffrey was smarter than he let on. Lawyering up was one thing, but having a timed gate assured that Mr. Karon didn’t become an accidental victim to the dogs inside the barn. Aaron quickly stepped down the ladder and told Rossi and the officers that they were clear to enter the hostile den. The officers seemed hesitant, but Rossi brushed past them, trusting Hotch and opening the doors of the barn. The dogs went wild and rushed the gate but couldn’t get out. Hotch and Dave covered their ears, and they stepped into the barn. Even though it might be safe for them to be inside the dank-smelling space, they kept a good five-foot distance from the dogs. Aaron observed that all of the dogs were malnourished and had their tails docked. Many of the dogs had bite marks and looked in ill health. Rossi noticed the feathers on the floor of the cage. There was a children’s pool filled with stinking water and flies on the far side of the cage. Aaron took pictures of the dogs, the cage, and the locking mechanism which seemed to be turned on via a switch or remote timer. Hotch felt a pang of pity for the dogs inside the barn and what a horrible life they had been put through. However, he realized that these animals had also killed up to seven human beings. There was no nice way of putting that. When Rossi and Aaron had seen what they needed to, Aaron called Sheriff Weiss and brought the man up to date. He detailed the need for animal control and that they would need a lot of animal control. Weiss had paused and said that he would have to call into multiple counties and vets for help getting all the dogs out of the barn. Hotch understood and agreed. Aaron left one of the policemen to sit in his cruiser just outside the bard to wait as long as it took for the animal control members to arrive and take care of the situation inside the barn. The officer seemed to relax when he realized that he could wait inside his protected vehicle. 

With the farm mostly searched and a lot of damning evidence gathered, the team left with Mr. Karon to conduct their first interview. The unsub had said very little except for cursing the officer in the other police car out. The team left another three officers to cordon off the farm and sites of interest. At the precinct, Jeffrey was quickly moved into a room that was normally a holding cell for those who had too much to drink and needed the night to sober up before going home to their wives in shame with another fifty-dollar ticket of disorderly conduct or public indecency. It was the best the small police station had for an interrogation room. Sheriff Weiss had a table and chairs brought in and Derek and Rossi had the first round of trying to get the unsub to talk. Outside the cell _y/n_ paced and Aaron watched them while also looking into the room with Jeffrey. Something was upsetting _y/n_ and he could tell. It was not only the pacing, but the way _y/n_ was just slightly biting the inside of their cheek. After a minute of this, Aaron turned to them and asked, “What it is _y/n_?” _y/n_ turned on their heel and said, “It can’t be him Hotch? You smelled his breath when we first got in the house. It reeked of alcohol and he was stumbling around either because he was drunk or high on meds, or both. I don’t know how a man like that can pull something like this off. Not by himself. Not to mention his leg injury. He can barely walk. He couldn’t possibly handle those dogs in the barn. Plus, we’re looking for a supposed psychopath. Mr. Karon might be disturbed, but he loved those dogs in the house. How does that work?” Aaron nodded. He had felt that something was off too, but having _y/n_ put it into words helped solidify how he felt. _y/n_ said, “It’s something to do with that boy’s room. That makeshift bed in the barn. I think we’re missing something big. I think I should go back.” Hotch nodded and said, “I’m coming with you.” _y/n_ gave him just the smallest smile and said, “Alright. I’ll tell the team, why don’t you start the car? I’ll be out in a minute.” Aaron agreed and moved outside. It didn’t take long for them to get back to the farm. Aaron had an officer go with _y/n_ to the boy’s room, and he and another officer moved back to the barn to look at the cot again. The two were determined to find out what vital piece was missing from the bigger picture. 

Back in the interrogation room, Karon wasn’t talking and it had been nearly fifty minutes. Derek was saying, “So what, you get bitten by a dog when you're a kid and then have dogs kill people? What do you gain from that, Karon? Apart from some sick need to see people be torn apart.” The man didn’t answer and Rossi tried another approach saying, “Why keep your bedroom the same Jeffrey? Why lock it up and keep it preserved? Why is it so important to you?” This finally had a response for the unsub and he said, “That room’s special to me, yeah. Gotta keep it like that for when she comes back.” Morgan and Dave looked at each other and Rossi asked, “Who comes back, Mr. Karon? You’re wife? Your son?” Jeffrey put his head in his hands and said, “That goodman bitch of a wife you idiot. My son’s still there. But he’s not like he used to be. And I’m not like I used to be, get it. Before that bitch of a city slicker wife left me everything was fine. FINE! Get it, but she left and it all went bad. Went to goddamn shit.” Morgan cared less about the wife and more about the fact that Jeff had said his son was still on the property, on the farm. Derek asked, “Your son, Karon. Where is he!” Jeff laughed and the built agent raised to his feet and slammed his hands on the table near the unsub, getting him to stop laughing and Morgan said again, “Where is your son!” Karon chuckled a little and said, “Sleeps ‘n the barn at night. I hear four of those cops are still out there, and two of your agents. Pity for them. Jason’s better with the dogs than I am. Has been for the last ten years since my fucking leg’s been acting up more. Motherfucker of a leg.” This realization hit the two FBI agents like a ton of bricks. There was a beat of silence before Rossi rushed out of the room to call Aaron and let him know that Karon’s son was on the farm while Derek worked his best to not beat the crap out of the man in front of him and try and get something that might help Hotch and _y/n_. Rossi paced as he waited for Aaron to pick up. Finally, his friend did, saying, “Hotchner.” Dave nearly yelled, “Karon’s son is still living on the farm. He’s the one letting the dogs out. Where’s _y/n_? Are you with them?” 

Aaron’s stomach dropped like a bag of stones as he realized _y/n_ hadn’t checked in in over twenty minutes. He put Dave on hold and called _y/n_. He prayed that they’d pick up, but _y/n_’s phone went to voicemail. Aaron then tried radioing the officer with _y/n_ but all he got was the man sitting outside the barn. Hotch almost threw himself down the ladder to the loft and shouted at the officer at the bottom to follow him. Hotch drove faster the he ever had toward the farmhouse. Something told him that he would find answers there. It had been _y/n_’s last location for starters. Aaron didn’t even bother turning off the car as he and the officer rushed into the house, guns drawn. There was no one in the main room, but sounds were coming from the kitchen. Aaron breached the room and found a large man standing with a clever aim to cut apart a de-feathered chicken. The man froze when Aaron rushed the room and pointed the gun at him, Jason Karon. Hotch shouted, “Put the knife down slowly or I shoot.” The man didn’t seem to care that he was moving incredibly slowly while he set the knife down on the butcher block. Hotch then shouted, “Where is the other agent and officer?” The large man shrugged, and Aaron shouted again, stepping within a foot of the second unsub’s face, “Where is my agent!” Jason said slowly with a small glint in his eyes, “Middle of the wheat field I guess. That fucking agent bit me. Had to tranque ‘em. Dogs ‘ill get ‘em soon. But don’t ya worry. I gave ‘em a fighting chance. Set a timer for the dog's release. It’s no fun to watch them die if they’re tranqued. Dogs ‘ill be out in ‘bout fifteen minutes and if I timed it right, the drugs ‘ill wear off a bit before then. I ain’t never seen a cop die before. Should be fun” There was a devil-may-care attitude that indicated the unsub cared nothing for human life. The rage that filled Aaron nearly had him shoot the man in front of him, but the fact that _y/n_ was still alive and could be torn apart had Aaron brush past Jason and ran out the back door so quickly that he didn’t even tell the officer to restrain the man. He only had thoughts for _y/n_. Hotch straddled the ATV, turned the key that was miraculously still in the ignition and pressed the electronic throttle. Aaron could feel the wind in his face and his hands held onto the handlebars of the ATV with a death grip. He entered the wheat field in around seven minutes and slowed slightly as he got closer to the center. He didn’t want to run over _y/n_, but he knew he had only minutes to find them before both of them were going to face the same fate as all the other victims from before. Just as Aaron heard the first howling of the dogs, he found _y/n_ on the cold ground. 

Hotch jumped off the vehicle and ran to _y/n_. Their eyes were open but glazed. _y/n_’s hands were bound, but not their feet. Aaron grabbed _y/n_ and pulled them onto the ATV in front of him. _y/n_ was lucid enough to move their feet with Aaron’s. As Hotch kicked the ignition on again. He saw the first three dogs breach the tall grass. Hotch opened up the throttle. He held _y/n_ to his chest while he tried to press the gas and control the ATV all at the same time. Even at the full thirty miles per hour, the dogs were catching up to them. Aaron felt his heart beat faster than it ever had before. It was like he could hear the breaths of the crazed animals following him, could hear their feet hitting the ground, which would outpace him and _y/n_ soon. Another three minutes and they’d be out of the field, and the police would see what was happening and come to help. At least that was what Aaron hoped. But a sound had Hotch’s heart nearly stop. At the edge of the wheat field, the engine of the ATV spluttered loudly. Hotch looked down at the gas gauge: E. Aaron pushed the machine as far as it would go but it slowed after another thirty seconds, then died. 

There was a split second when Aaron thought there was no way for them to live. His mind went blank, black. But _y/n_ stirred, and he knew they couldn’t die. He’d happily die, but _y/n_ couldn’t die. Not like this. They deserved warmth, retirement, and old age, and happiness. And because Aaron couldn’t have the love of his life die, he was forced to think in a split second. This brought up two options. The first was to shoot as many of the dogs as possible. He knew that he wouldn’t get to all of them before the rest overpowered them, but this was an option that would reduce the number of animals that would kill them. Maybe the others would get scared off by the sounds of gunfire. The other option was to make a run for the barn with the loft inside. It was about ten feet from the open barn door. Something in Aaron’s gut told him this was the only option where _y/n_ lived. Aaron didn’t care if he died; he just needed _y/n_ to live. 

So with his soul telling him, compelling him forward, Aaron dismounted, pulled _y/n_ over his broad shoulders, and ran the fastest he had ever run before. 

Step, step step, breath. Step, step, step breath. Pothole. Twisted ankle. Step, step, step, shooting pain up the leg. The reek of dog breath, and teeth at his legs. Breath. Door, ladder, Teeth in the leg, Foot to dogs mouth, Last step. 

Aaron’s heart felt like it might burst, and his muscles had never hurt so much, never been pushed so hard. However, there wasn’t time for that, as one of the dogs had used its legs to get to the top of the ladder. Not even thinking of his gun, Aaron kicked at the dog's head, trying to avoid the now bloody and snapping teeth. When the dog had fallen, Aaron used his hands to tear the old ladder from the loft sending it crashing to the ground below. Even though the ladder was old, it was rusted in place with only Aaron’s adrenaline that allowed him to get it off the loft. Hotch slumped back next to _y/n_. How he had managed to get them both up the ladder, he wasn’t sure. Aaron pushed _y/n_ to the wall and lay very closely pressed to them as there wasn’t room for both of their bodies in the loft. Aaron was half in shock. He didn’t really hear the gunshots from the officers below, but he could somehow feel the heat from the blowback and saw the light flash from the ignitions. The noise seemed to rouse _y/n_ more, and Hotch moved to cover their ears. He was blocking their view of below with his body. Even he didn’t want to see what lay beneath the loft, but after a few minutes, whatever chaos had been happening stopped. Aaron could now see the red and blue lights of either an ambulance or police car on the wall of the barn. Sound suddenly rushed back into Hotch’s senses. He also registered the pain in his body and leg where he had been bitten. Due to his shock, Aaron felt like stuff happened to him for the next two hours. Aaron did make sure that _y/n_ got into the first ambulance that had arrived even though they started saying that he needed it more because he was hurt and they weren’t. In the end, it didn’t matter as the only other ambulance from the small local hospital arrived shortly after. Hotch was given a local anesthetic in his left leg which had been bitten to the muscle below. Aaron was so exhausted, and now that he knew that _y/n_ was safe, he closed his eyes and let everything else that was happening to and around him just wash over him like a flood

It turned out that Aaron needed ten stitches for his bites and a set of antibiotics to make sure that he didn’t let the bite get infected. _y/n_ had been given a larger dose of Tiletamine and they needed to be kept on close observation as that medication was related but not the same as Ketamine and the side effects of that drug on humans were not known as it wasn’t a drug not meant to be used on humans. _y/n_ felt queasy and said they had a bad headache and were weak, but thankfully the symptoms didn’t get much worse than that. After a few hours of close monitoring for both Aaorn and _y/n_. The hospital staff felt that both agents would pull out without too much physical damage. However, the hospital required Aaron to stay put until the local anesthetic wore off so they could assess his pain, and that _y/n_ stay for a full twenty-four hours to ensure there were no long-lasting side effects of the drugs they had been given. Rossi went in and checked on Hotch first, letting him know that _y/n_ was going okay apart from some slight discomfort and nausea. He then explained what had happened since Aaron had been out of the loop for around three hours. How the police had handled most of the dogs by the time the rest of the BAU had arrived. How Jason Karon had been taken into custody and his father had agreed to throw his flesh and blood under the bus for a potentially lighter sentence once he found out that his son had been caught. How Jeffrey Karon had delusions about his wife coming home, how Jason had all the makings of a psychopath, and how together the father and son had made a fun hobby of killing anyone unlucky enough to land on their farm that they both wanted to protect with their lives. Hotch listened with disgust at the narrative and how so many had died for nothing more than a game, a distraction. He reflected on how in some cases, no one seemed to win. There were just losers. But then again, _y/n_ could have died. He could have died. Not that he valued his life much, but _y/n_ was physically okay, and that was enough of a positive to let him relax just a little bit into the bed. Rossi looked down at Aaron from his chair, gave his friend a pat on the shoulder, and said, “You did everything you could, and sometimes that just has to be enough. 

The next morning, _y/n_, who had been given some medication to help them sleep, woke to Aaron sitting by their bedside. They rubbed the sleep from their eyes and looked over the parts of their love that they could see. _y/n_ noticed the bandaging on Aaron’s leg, and they asked, “Should you be out of bed?” Hotch chuckled and tried to lighten the mood by saying, “Oh, I just had to fight two nurses to get here from my room.” _y/n_ leveled him with a glare that had him honestly say, “But seriously, they let me out last night after you were under. Rossi insisted that I not stay here all night waiting for you to wake up.” That got a small smile from _y/n_, and they replied, “Remind me to send Rossi a thank you card when we get home.” Aaron laughed again and rolled his eyes before asking, “How are you feeling today? I’m sure the nurses will be in here in a moment to ask you the same, but I’d like to hear it first.” _y/n_ took a moment to think about their physical state before saying, “Better. I still have a bit of a headache, but much better than last night.” Hotch nodded and then looked to the door as two nurses entered the room as he had guessed. The medical staff asked Aaron to sit in one of the chairs near the wall as they performed some routine checks on _y/n_ and assessed their vital signs. After the nurses had given _y/n_ a dose of medication to make sure they remained stable, they left Aaron and _y/n_ alone again, promising to be back in half an hour to check up on _y/n_.

When they had gone, Aaron moved back to his prior seat. _y/n_ held out their hands for Hotch and he took it in his, running his thumb over their knuckles. Aaron looked up and _y/n_ was looking at him with sad eyes, like they knew something already, but they wished it wasn’t true. _y/n_ had a vague memory of some of yesterday, but with the drugs and the excitement, it had seemed to fade; they asked Hotch softly, “Tell me what happened yesterday. Everything that happened.” Aaron hesitated before replying, “_y/n_, it’s not very pleasant. Maybe you should wait a bit.” _y/n_ sighed and said, “Once the team comes to see me they’ll talk about it and I’d rather hear it from you. I do remember the doctor telling me I’m stuck here for twenty-four hours last night which leaves me with about ten hours to spare.” Aaron sighed before realizing that they were right. He recounted the events of the former day to _y/n_. They squeezed his hand as he described how he’d gotten them out of the field and to the barn. How he couldn’t let them die, and how that had saved his own life. _y/n_ didn’t have the right words to thank him for saving their life at that moment, but Aaron could see it, the look of thanks in their eyes. Instead of saying anything else, he leaned down and kissed _y/n_’s forehead. His lips lingered on their skin. Aaron knew that they had saved each other in an unspoken way. Aaron couldn’t let _y/n_ die, and deep down, he knew that they’d never forgive him if he’d died yesterday either, which had pushed him to run instead of shooting at the dogs. _y/n_ seemed to notice his shift in thoughts, and they asked, “And the dogs?” Aaron knew they would ask about the dogs soon. As someone who cherished animals, he knew his response would bring _y/n_ pain. Hotch pulled back and just nodded his head no, indicating the worst. _y/n_ closed their eyes and let out a half breath, half sob, saying, “They didn’t do anything wrong. They didn’t know what was happening.” Aaron squeezed their hand and said, “I know, love. But maybe it was a mercy. They weren’t treated well, and I heard from one of the officers that a lot of them looked sick. The state wouldn’t have let them live, and they went quickly.” A few tears fell from _y/n_’s eyes, but they nodded ever so slightly, wanting to believe Aaron. Trusting what he said, even if he had fibbed, even if they could hear him lying to make them feel better. _y/n_ opened their eyes and asked, “What about the dogs from in the house? Those were good dogs? Nice dogs.” Aaron replied, “I’m not sure. I didn’t think about them when we got back to the farm. I’ll call the Sheriff later and see what he says. Maybe animal control came and took them before we got back.” _y/n_ nodded, also remembering how the other dogs had been gone once they arrived. They hoped that at least those dogs that they had petted on the first visit to the barn would find good forever homes, far away from the farm. Far away from Kansas. 

Later that evening, _y/n_ was discharged, and the following day, the team was headed back to Quantico after the largest thank you from Sheriff Weiss. Aaron ever so slightly accepted the gratitude but knew with a weariness that another, possibly worse case was waiting for them on JJ’s desk, and the two men shook hands. On the plane, Hotch and _y/n_ both took their mid-day meds from the hospital. _y/n_’s medication left them drowsy, and they moved to sit next to Aaron on the couch, slipping on their headphones and slipping their right hand into his. _y/n_ nestled slightly closer into his side and rested their head on his shoulder. Aaron pressed a kiss to _y/n_’s temple and moved back to the file in his hand. After about twenty minutes, the words began swimming in front of his eyes, and Aaron closed the file and realized he was defeated for the moment. Hotch tapped _y/n_ on the shoulder, and they roused a bit, mumbling, “What is it, Aaron?” Wordlessly, he put out a hand for one of their headphones. _y/n_ smiled and handed one over. Hotch slipped the earbud into his right ear and let the soft soundtrack of Hozier’s “Francesca,” “Northern Attitude,” and _y/n_’s favorite Unknown / Nth” envelope him like a hug. Aaron realized that whenever he listened to this playlist, he could picture _y/n_ so clearly in his mind. Their time together. The soft longing in the Irish man’s voice had become a connection for how much he loved and longed to spend his days with _y/n_. As he slipped off to sleep, he pictured them back home, already nestled in bed, under the covers, skin to skin. His face rested in a calm facade for once as the jet flew thousands of miles above the ground, taking them home. 

When they all got back to Virginia, the team went to their separate houses, Aaron and _y/n_ arrived home, ready for some sleep. Aaron went to the kitchen to make them an early dinner while _y/n_ unpacked their go bags and replaced their dirty clothes with fresh ones whenever the next case came their way. Turning on the light, _y/n_ caught sight of their reflection in the mirror, reminded them of how Hotch had looked at himself before the case, the way he spoke of himself. _y/n_ remembered the idea of getting him into a warm bath and showering him with praise while they sat by the side of the tub, rubbing his shoulders and massaging his scalp. The idea sent a flush through them, and they were determined to make it happen after all they had been through on the last case. _y/n_ had to wait a few days until Aaron could be safely submerged in water. His leg had significantly healed, and he was now putting on a topical antibiotic cream to the bite area instead of the stronger oral tablets he’d been taking before. It was Wednesday evening, and _y/n_ sent Hotch off on a short errand to get some tomato sauce and zucchini for dinner. While he was gone, _y/n_ filled the tub with hot water, lit some of their _y/f/c_’s, and dimmed the lights to low in the bedroom. _y/n_ also put a sheet over the standing mirror in the bedroom and a towel over the mirror in the bathroom. This was about Aaron cherishing his body, not putting it under a microscope. Just when all of this was done, _y/n_ heard Aaron enter the apartment and set the grocery bags on the counter. _y/n_ slipped out of the bedroom and found Aaron, kissing him. Hotch smiled at them, and as _y/n_ wordlessly pulled him into the bedroom, he didn’t question it or protest. Aaron did, however, look a bit taken aback as _y/n_ started undoing the buttons of his shirt He asked softly, “Is everything alright, sweetheart?” _y/n_ smiled at him tenderly and said, “It will be when you have your clothes off.” Aaron flushed. _y/n_ was rarely so brazen, and he didn’t know what this was about, but he didn’t stop himself from undoing his belt and sliding his trousers to the ground. Now that his shirt and pants were off, and his skin exposed to the cool air of the room he took _y/n_’s hand and looked at the bed as if asking if they wanted to move there now. _y/n_ leaned down a bit and kissed his chest, running their hands down his torso and beneath the band of his underwear. Hotch took in a sharp breath, flexing his muscles. _y/n_ pulled his last article of clothing down and simultaneously began gently sucking on one of the scars Foyett had left on his upper torso.

Aaron whispered their name and made to move to the bed, but _y/n_ said, “Actually, I drew you a warm bath. I, I kind of thought you might need something relaxing after that last case.” Hotch’s dark eyes changed from something filled with desire to a different kind of want; to be shown affection, and his gaze softened ever so slightly as he whispered, “Would you lead the way?” _y/n_ nodded, taking his hand as they led him to the bathroom. They checked the temperature of the water, and it felt perfect. Aaron kissed _y/n_ once more before settling in the tub. He lowered himself slowly into the water, letting it lap at his thighs, groin, and finally, his chest. He let out a sigh at how comforting the bath felt. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d treated himself to something like this. He could sense _y/n_ move behind him with soft steps and then get onto their knees near the lip of the tub. _y/n_ dipped their hands in the water and ran them over his broad, muscled shoulders, which were tight from the stress he kept in his neck and upper back. As _y/n_ began running firm hands over the knots, Aaron turned his head to the side and asked, “Would you get in with me, _y/n_?” _y/n_ paused, and though that had not been their original plan, a bath with Aaron sounded like bliss. _y/n_ put their head near this mouth and said, “Okay. Just give me a moment to put away the groceries. I’ll grab you a drink too.” Hotch smiled and nodded. He was happy that if he was going to be so relaxed, that _y/n_ would get to revel in it too. 

Aaron didn’t think much about how long _y/n_ was taking to put away the groceries, get him a drink, and then strip in the next room. He kept his eyes closed and pictured _y/n_ and really, without thinking about it, started humming _y/n_’s favorite song. When the tune to the chorus came around, he murmured the words as well in his soft tenor voice. Little did he know that _y/n_ was standing in the doorway listening to him. When _y/n_ stepped forward, he stopped immediately as if embarrassed for singing aloud. _y/n_ didn’t comment yet as they stepped into view, now stripped of their clothes. Aaron looked up at them, reveling in the sight of them fully revealed to him. Not that he didn’t see this every day, but it never failed to take the breath from him. _y/n_ handed him a chilled glass with an amber liquid inside saying, “Thought you might enjoy a scotch.” Aaron downright beamed at _y/n_’s thoughtfulness and said, “You’re singing my song.” _y/n_ smiled and cheekily replied, as they got into the bath, “Actually, I think you were singing my song.” Hotch flushed, as he took his first sip of his drink. There was a silence before _y/n_ asked, “Would you sing the rest of it for me? I don’t think I’ve ever really heard you sing before.” Aaron spluttered for a second, and he said, “Probably because I’m not a good singer, _y/n_. I think my talents lie elsewhere.” _y/n_ gave a soft pout and said, “I think you sounded lovely before. Please, Aaron.” Hotch knew he could never refuse them, and he steeled himself as he finished singing the third verse, bridge, and chorus of Hozier’s lyrics. He was shocked that the words just came to him, as he’d never actually looked them up before. But he guessed he’d just heard it so often and listened to _y/n_ sing them in the car or the shower that they had soaked into his neural paths naturally. After he finished, he looked to _y/n_ for some response.

Their smile told him what he needed to know, and he relaxed back more fully. For a moment there was just the soft sound of water lapping at their bodies. Eventually, _y/n_ said, “You know I love every part of you, right?” Aaron opened his eyes and met _y/n_’s as he responded with, “_y/n_ I…” He dropped the sentence because he didn’t know how to finish it. He did know that they loved every part of him, but he felt this was more than just about their perception of him. Aaron’s silence told _y/n_ that he was thinking and they gently said, “I mean it, Aaron. I love your mind that’s sharp as a razor, and I love your determination to do the right thing and protect people, and I love your body too. No matter how you change with age and time, nothing is going to stop me from loving you wholly. I need you to know that. I wouldn’t be here right now if it hadn’t been for all three of those things a week back.” The cynical side of his brain had him say, “_y/n_, that was all adrenaline in the heat of the moment.” _y/n_ scoffed at his logic slightly and said, “And? So what? That was your adrenaline that saved me. No one else's. Not the cop’s, not Derek’s. It was you who put your body on the line for me and didn’t let me die in a field in Kansas. You think you’re not capable of things because you’re getting older, but me being here is proof that you’re more capable than you know. And you always will be Aaron.” Hotch felt the weight of their words and emotions in _y/n_’s statement, and he almost started crying. He looked at _y/n_ through bleary eyes and said, “Thank you for taking care of me, _y/n_.” That was all he could get out without letting his tears actually fall. _y/n_ gave him a soft smile of understanding and opened their legs to make space for him, and they patted their chest for him to lean on. Aaron moved so his back was against their chest, and _y/n_ said, “Always, Aaron. We’ll always be there for each other.” Aaron closed his eyes and chose to let go of his negative thoughts for now. Choosing to accept _y/n_’s reality. Choosing to believe that he was worthy. As he settled back into their embrace, _y/n_ started working his aching muscles with their hands, whispering words of praise. He knew he had made it home.

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[egcdeath]

sunday kind of love

request: I'm still so so so in love with jake lockely, and wanted to request something with him and his girl being domestic af, like going to the night market together to get stuff for a late dinner, him not letting her get an uber because he's the best, dancing with her in the kitchen while it cooks 🥺 you're so good at writing intimacy it kills me honestly (in a good way) 

pairing: jake lockley x reader

summary: a glimpse into the best and most domestic day of the week for jake and the reader.

word count: 5.1k

warnings: SO MUCH FLUFF!! you will need to see your dentist after this, domesticity, playful nagging, a lot of references to food idk why, dialogue heavy towards the end, really really soft, not beta read

author's note: i want to preface this by saying that jake is ooc. to be fair we’ve seen like 3 minutes of him in canon, but he is just a big old teddy bear softie in this fic who loves his gf more than anything. this fic involves the same couple from love in bloom. i wrote it with them being together for at least a few years in mind, but it’s really up to interpretation, and you definitely don’t have to read that before you read this fic! i hope you enjoy.

Saturdays used to be your favorite day of the week; that was, until you fell into your Sunday routine with Jake. 

You woke up to the rhythmic snoring of the sleeping man beside you, the familiar vibrations from his chest rattling through your own body, fueling your reluctance as you slowly and quietly slipped out of bed, attempting to escape the heavy arm laid across your own chest. Despite the knowledge that he often slept like a rock, you made sure to avoid your one creaky floorboard as you escaped your bedroom. 

Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you evaluated the ingredients you’d picked up from the farmer’s market just a day prior before turning on a playlist of some of yours and Jake’s favorite music. 

It was almost alarming how easily you’d fallen into a familiar rhythm with the man—beginning with routine visits to the market on the weekend, to second, third, and countless other dates, then escalating into spending more time at each other’s places together, and collaborating on little things together when you couldn’t be together, like watching the most recent season of Acapulco Shore while sending texts with commentary to each other, or adding a song you thought he might like to your shared playlist. Falling for Jake, and loving him, was easy—something you frequently thought about, like now, as you evaluated your pantry and fridge for something nice for your partner to wake up to.

You eventually settled on dressing up some avocado toast on Jake’s favorite artisanal sourdough, and got right to work with washing and cutting produce, along with arranging the avocado in a manner that was simply unnecessary—although, as you’d learned, it was the little details that Jake appreciated. Singing under your breath along to a song that Jake had added to the playlist, you found yourself focused and lost in making a clean green spiral of avocado slices. 

“Morning,” Jake said raspily, voice low and groggy from sleep. He casually snaked his arms around your hips as he approached you, setting his head on your shoulder, giving you the tiniest start. You couldn’t deny that one of your favorite parts of spending the weekend with Jake lied in how you kicked off the morning. The back hug and cheek kiss was now a classic move, one you always looked forward to while you stood alone in your kitchen, despite the tiny scare it always seemed to give you. 

“‘m glad you finally decided to wake up,” you teased, setting down the butter knife in your hand that you’d been using to design your own toast, and reaching up to gently scratch the stubble on the cheek next to yours.  

“It’s hard for me to get my beauty sleep without my girl,” he shot back, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. You fought (and lost) a smile as his stubble gently rubbed against your face, a familiar comfort that seemed to make your heart leap no matter how many times you felt it. 

“I dunno, you still look pretty beautiful to me,” you shrugged, reaching back down to the cutting board to grab a washed strawberry by its stem before holding it up to Jake’s mouth for him to bite while you held your free hand under his chin in order to catch any mess. “Open.”

Jake gladly took your strawberry offering and practically purred. “Delicious. But not as sweet as you, cariño.”

“Shut up,” you laughed, watching Jake with nothing short of hearts in your eyes as he shuffled away from you and made somewhat of a beeline to your Keurig. You paid him no mind as you moved over to your stovetop to work on cooking eggs to go on top of your toast. “Did you sleep well?”

“I’d sleep better if you didn’t leave me,” he sighed dramatically, grabbing two mugs and coffee pods as the machine gurgled at him in a frankly uncouth manner.

“I was gone for like, ten minutes tops. You’re just clingy,” you teased right back, setting a lid on top of the popping skillet. 

“Can you blame me for wanting to spend every second of the day con mi corazón?” Jake questioned, walking to your fridge and grabbing your respective creamers. “You’d be complaining too if one of your major organs got up and left you alone in the middle of the night.”

You scoffed playfully, “It was nine in the morning! I’m tired of this honeymoon phase. Will you ever stop being lovesick?” you whined, setting your hands on your hips as Jake took a detour to snatch yet another strawberry off the cutting board on his way back to your now fully functioning coffee machine.

“Unfortunately no. Doc says it’s chronic. I may never recover,” he sighed, adding the creamer and sugar to your piping hot drink in just the way he knew you liked it. “And Doc told me that the only temporary cure is for you to stay in bed with me all night.”

“That’s too bad,” you feigned disappointment, sliding the now over-easy egg onto Jake’s overdressed toast. “I guess I’ll sacrifice the possibility of ever bringing you breakfast in bed. Those are just the kinds of things you do when you love someone.” 

You made quick work of putting finishing touches on the slice before grabbing your plates and heading over to the table. 

“Eh, I’ll live,” he shrugged, setting your mug in front of you, then leaning down for a quick kiss that you gladly returned. “Everything looks amazing. You’re amazing.”

You shook your head fondly, “sit down and eat before I make you take me to the dentist for being so sweet.”

—

There was never a dull moment between the two of you, which was why something as simple as doing the dishes had somehow managed to become a ‘moment.’

It all began when Jake insisted that he do the dishes, as he often did, followed by you protesting (as you often did); something about you being a good host and him being a good guest. Either way, it ended with you at the sink, and Jake on drying duty standing in a comfortable silence as your joint playlist flipped through some of your favorite songs. 

Eventually, one slow song in particular popped onto your speaker, eliciting a soft gasp from the both of you— one that said ‘This is our song!’ without really having to say anything at all. 

All at once, the fork in your hand fell into the basin of the sink, and Jake set the partially dried mug onto your countertop. You gave each other a certain look, and Jake reached out an expecting hand, one that you gladly took.

He pulled you close to him and hummed softly along to the words as he wrapped his arms around your waist once more and softly swayed you along to the music. 

You draped your arms around his neck and wordlessly grinned up at the man who seemed just as happy as you to be dancing along to the song that had grown to have so much meaning to the two of you. 

Catching you off guard, Jake lifted an arm, encouraging you to do a little twirl in the tight space of your apartment dance floor, and twirl you did, returning to him with a giggle as his ever passionate eyes locked on yours, as if you were the only person in the entire world. 

You held on tight to Jake once more, heart (and body) practically melting as he sang the last few lines of the song to you, maintaining that intense, yet adoring eye contact before he leaned down once more to give you a soft, tender kiss. 

Jake stepped on your foot a few times, and you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t catch your own on his, but standing in your kitchen, swaying along to your song, there was no place on Earth that you’d rather be. 

—

There were only so many times that you could playfully tell one another that you didn’t smell the best until you finally had to do something about it, so it was no surprise when you and Jake ended up in the shower together, somewhere between comfortably and uncomfortably cramped between the tile of the wall and the flimsy curtain. 

Showering together had become yet another staple in your Sunday routine—something about saving energy and money on a water bill, or maximizing your time together. In reality, you knew there was nothing Jake looked forward to more than the intimacy of something as simple as a joint shower… and the promise of a thorough scalp massage just happened to be a bonus. 

You lathered up your hands in your favorite lavender body wash and gently massaged the suds into Jake’s back, smiling to yourself when he unconsciously let out the sigh and tension that his body had been holding onto. 

“When are you gonna let me take you out to get a real massage?” you asked, running your hands up to his slowly untenseing shoulders. 

“Never. You do a good enough job,” you could practically hear the bliss in his voice as you both cleaned and kneaded his back. 

“While I appreciate the flattery, I promise you that once a professional gives you one, you’ll never go back,” you lightly ran your nails down his back before passing off the body wash for him to take care of the rest of himself while you worked on shampooing his hair. 

“You’re perfectly adequate enough for me,” he countered as you rubbed the product into his scalp. “And if you keep that up, I’m going to fall asleep.”

“Hey! You’re not allowed to fall asleep before you lather me up. Those are the shower rules,” you paused from your scalp massaging to peek around Jake’s torso, and didn’t miss the slightly too relaxed expression on his face. “I’m serious, Jake. I’ll make the water freezing cold right now if I must.”

“Fine, fine. Turn around,” he ordered, voice slightly more alert from the new threat of a cold shower. You gladly followed his direction, pleasantly humming to yourself as Jake rubbed soothing suds onto your body. 

“Stop, you know I’m ticklish there!” you laughed, attempting to slap away your partner’s hand as he unnecessarily emphasized rubbing on your neck. Jake’s laughter joined with yours, the sound of your shared giggling filling up the room. “You have one more strike, Jake Lockley,” you threatened emptily. 

“Yeah? Or what?” 

“Or you’ll be showering alone for the rest of your life,” you snapped back, suddenly reaching for the sides of his torso, eliciting a mixture of Spanish curses and laughter as you tickled him back in his most vulnerable spot. 

“Okay, okay, I get it, we’re even now,” he wheezed out, grabbing your hands to stop you. “I don’t even know if I want to shower with you anymore.”

“I don’t believe that coming from the biggest shower sap in the entire universe,” you looked up at him expectantly, using your joined hands to wipe out some of the water in your eyes. “You come here every weekend practically begging for a shower and massage.”

“Fine, you got me there.” Jake conceded. “It’s time for you to rinse, though. I’m starting to prune up.”

You nodded in agreement before awkwardly shuffling around so you could rinse yourself off at a somewhat better angle, and you cringed at the heat. “I’ll never understand why you need it so hot. Are you trying to boil us to death?”

“Hey, I just like my showers hot,” he defended. “But I guess dying with you is my ideal way to go.”

You rolled your eyes, turning back to lightly hit his chest. “You are something else.”

—

“One day we’re gonna move into a place with two sinks,” you mumbled against the toothbrush in your mouth. “I can’t go much longer like this,” you glanced up at Jake in the mirror, fighting laughter as you peered at his foamy mouth and ridiculous appearance with just his waist wrapped in a towel. 

“Why? You don’t like being close like this?” Jake asked, gently bumping his hip against yours and smirking at you through the mirror. 

“Something like that,” you muttered back, spitting out the remaining toothpaste and reaching across your countertop to grab a roll of floss. 

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” Jake asked after a beat as he watched you quietly floss your teeth. 

You shrugged cavalierly, but the heat practically radiating off of you betrayed your true feelings on the matter, and it certainly didn’t help that Jake was standing so close to you. The truth of the matter was that you would love to move with him, maybe go upstate and have a pet and a garden, and eventually even children—but for now you were just enjoying your Sunday with the man you loved in a bathroom that was far too cramped to comfortably brush, let alone floss your teeth—and that was plenty for you. 

Besides, Jake knew what you really wanted regardless of what you did or didn’t say. 

—

Rain lightly pelted against the living room windows, a soft soundtrack of serenity that contrasted awfully well with the overdramatic reality show playing out on the television while Jake laid against your chest, half-lidded eyes falling closed every now and then as you ran your fingers through his curls and occasionally scratched his scalp. 

“This is just ridiculous,” you murmured, glancing down at Jake as you aimed your commentary toward him. “Can you believe they’re doing all of this for fucking Flavor Flav?”

Jake grunted out a sound of agreement, not really processing anything you’d just said as he was clearly much more interested in being spooned and having his hair played with than the trashy television playing in front of you. 

“Having a good time?” you asked with a cheeky grin, obviously picking up on his distraction. 

“With you? Always,” he hummed. “I’m not having a good time with Pumpkin, though. She needs to leave New York alone.”

“Right?!” you laughed. “You just get it. I’m glad I have you to indulge me in my shitty shows.”

“I feel like you’re indulging me. These have always been a guilty pleasure of mine,” he confessed. 

“Really?” you asked with raised brows. “I never would have guessed. Really! I’m not being sarcastic or anything.”

“I guess our terrible television taste makes us the perfect pair,” he suggested. 

“Yeah, just our television taste,” you retorted, amusement ever present in your voice. 

—-

While your local grocery store was no farmers market, it was nice to grab a few pantry staples for the week at a much more understandable price. It also just so happened that you had an extra pair of hands and an Uber driver to assist you during your weekly trip. 

You happily strolled through aisles, tossing whatever looked right into the basket that Jake was faithfully following you around with through the store.

“You’re doing a great job sticking to your list,” Jake teased as you checked off pasta from your list after tossing various other grains that were not exactly pasta into your basket. 

“Thank you,” you gave him a tight smile. “Y’know, it didn’t always used to be like this.”

“Really? Tell me more,” you gave the back of the cart a little tug to let him know that you were on the move once more. 

“Alright, once upon a time, long, long ago, only one person lived in my home for all seven days a week—me,” you continued to guide him to a checkout lane. “But then, one day, a man, a very handsome and lovable one, ended up essentially moving in for two of those seven days. And my pantry could no longer keep up with those two mouths. Especially when the handsome dork thinks that finding a bunch of ingredients and cooking together is the ideal date.”

“Is it not?” Jake asked, setting one of the fully checked out and packed bags into your cart. “I understand now. I’ll never question you ever again.”

“Stop,” you laughed, grabbing the next bag from the cashier. “You don’t have to stop questioning me, you just have to stop judging me.”

“I’m never judging you! Just making observations.”

“You’ve done enough damage today. There’s no coming back from the things you’ve said in the walls of this store.” 

—

Sundays were a day of domestic chores, which meant laundry, and ever since Jake started staying with you more often— a lot of it. 

You were fortunate enough to have your own washer and dryer in a practically microscopic closet next to your kitchen, meaning that you had a more than ideal view of Jake working on your next meal as you fidgeted with the settings on your washing machine. 

You attempted not to pay him too much mind as you moved one load of clothes into the dryer, but the very obvious scent of burning herbs was too much to ignore. 

“What’cha doin’ Jake?” you questioned, wandering over to him as he peered into the oven. 

He looked back at you and gave you a guilty half-smile, eyes shifting back to the mystery item in the oven. “Just admiring the view.”

“The oven view?” you asked, already slipping on a mit and maneuvering yourself in front of the appliance.

“The you view, pretty girl,” he attempted, knowing that neither of you were buying his words.

“Mhm. You’re a cute liar,” you laughed, opening the oven and coughing as a mixture of steam and the stench of a burnt item hit your nose. 

—

“Come run another errand with me,” you asked as you finished folding up the last of your laundry. Jake peeked out from the closet and raised a curious brow at you. 

“What’re we doing?” he questioned, hooking one last piece of clothing onto the valet rod before flopping onto his back atop your bed. 

“It’s a surprise,” you sat down on your knees next to him and leaned over his face. 

“I’m scared,” he countered, the dopey, lovesick smile on his face not matching his comment at all. 

“Trust me,” you reached down and grabbed his hand, giving it a little squeeze. “It’ll be fun. It’s just a surprise. You trust me, right?”

“I do, but when you keep bringing up trust it makes me not want to trust you,” he laughed. 

“Fine. Don’t trust me. Just trust that you’re gonna have a good time.”

“Hey! I never said I don’t trust you! I would trust you with my life, and even more.”

“I’m convinced you really will never grow out of being a lovesick sap,” you teased, pushing down that warm and fuzzy feeling in your stomach in favor of nuzzling his nose. 

—

“I love when you drive my car,” Jake commented as you parked in a spot of the mystery location. 

You really didn’t drive too often, only when you had a secret date you’d planned that you didn’t want to have spoiled by Google Maps. Other than that, Jake practically insisted on being your chauffeur, even when it came to mundane tasks, like a trip to the hair salon on a Tuesday afternoon. 

“Stop being sarcastic,” you scolded, your tone not matching the silly smile you shot Jake. 

“I’m not! It’s very endearing,” he countered, grabbing his wallet from the center console. “So what is this mystery errand?”

“We’re at a night market! They have a bunch of vendors selling neat things they made, and a ton of street food, since lunch was kinda a flop.”

“So it’s like the farmer’s market?”

“Yeah, but at night. So it’s different.”

“Sounds different and fun,” he concurred. “What are the odds we’ll need an umbrella at this market?”

“Slim to none, since it stopped raining hours ago. But we will be outside.”

“It stopped raining hours ago, but the sky looks ominous as hell right now.”

“It’s only like that because it’s late. And because of pollution.”

“Mhm, sure.”

“I’ll bet you that it doesn’t rain.”

“And what do I get when I win this bet?”

“Prizes are to be determined. But don’t hold your breath. There will be no rain.”

“I’m sure,” Jake nodded as he reached into his backseat to grab an umbrella. “Just in case.”

“You won’t need it, but okay. Come on,” you popped out of the car, hurried around the front, and opened Jake’s door for him as well. “M’lady.”

“Keeping chivalry alive as always,” he mused as he slipped out of the car. 

Jake slipped his hand into yours and you gladly wove your fingers together—a comforting and familiar motion that seemed to warm you up from the inside out— before you led him into the entrance of the market.

It started with one droplet hitting your cheek as you stood in line to pick up bao that was allegedly the best in town, then another, and suddenly it was as if all hell broke loose from the heavens above. You both glanced up at the sky in a synchronized act, then back down at each other. 

In one quick moment, Jake had popped open the umbrella and held it over both of your heads before too much rain had the opportunity to drench the two of you. 

“Start thinking of what I’ll get for winning our little bet,” he goaded, shifting the umbrella slightly further over to you to ensure that you wouldn’t get too wet.

“It seems like you’re already having enough fun with bragging rights that you really don’t need a reward,” you shot back, moving in closer to him to attempt to avoid getting too wet, as it turned out that the umbrella was not quite big enough for two people. 

“I’ll gladly take your permission to bring this up at every opportunity I get,” Jake continued on, perking up when your names were called with food. “Why don’t you go find us seating and I’ll grab our food? You can take the umbrella.”

You nodded, taking the umbrella and briefly basking in only being a little wet before hurrying off to find a seating area with some kind of roof. 

After searching a good amount, you stumbled upon a little tent with only a few people scattered about, sitting at various different tables. It wasn’t too long before Jake showed up in the tent, lifting up one of the little paper trays as if he were waving at you with it. You could’ve sworn that man had a sixth sense for where you were located, but you weren’t particularly mad about it. 

Your partner walked up to you, pretty much drenched from the less than pleasant weather. He sighed out something that seemed like relief as he sat down next to you, passed you your similarly damp food and wasted no time getting straight to business. 

“This is really good,” Jake commented between ravenous bites. “Here, try mine,” he held up his bao to you and you took a bite, humming pleasantly at its flavor. 

“Okay, okay, try mine,” you held one of yours up to his face, and didn’t miss that his eyes lit up after taking a little bite. “Wanna swap?”

He gave you a smile that said a thousand words, and you gladly switched the paper trays in front of you. “You know me so well,” Jake hummed, extremely content as he finished off your order. 

As you sat, the cold wind and a stray drizzle of rain continued to batter you, despite you being under the overhead safety of a tent. You couldn’t help but shiver as you and Jake played Words with Friends, attempting to wait out the rain. 

“Are you cold?” he asked, wrapping an arm around your hip and pulling you closer to his side in an attempt to share some of his warmth.

Jake’s observance was both a blessing and a curse. Sure, you were shivering a little, but it really wasn’t that bad. And since you were showing any sign of discomfort, you had a feeling you knew the direction of this conversation. 

“I’m okay,” you dismissed. 

“No,” he countered stubbornly, already shrugging off the shoulders of his jacket in preparation of draping it around you. 

“Jake,” you whined. 

“No, really. I was overheating. You feel the heat radiating off of me, right? Why not share some of the heat with my girl?” 

There was no other protest you could make, as Jake was already slipping his surprisingly warm jacket around you. 

A few rounds of your game and facetious arguments later, the rain still hadn’t cleared up. You were usually quite patient, but the thought of getting out of your wet clothes and laying in your warm bed was far too exciting of a prospect to stay under the shelter for one minute longer than you needed to.

“Think we should just brave it?” Jake asked as if he could read your mind. 

“Please. I was literally about to ask you the same thing,” you both were already getting out from your seats as you spoke. 

“What’s our plan here? Duck and run?” Jake asked, already popping the umbrella back up.

“I think so. And my honest opinion is that the umbrella is only going to slow us down. We need to raw it.”

“Ew,” he cringed at your word choice, and began to fold the umbrella back down. “But you’re right about it slowing us down. Okay, let’s go.”

You two looked at each other and took a dramatic deep breath before grabbing one another’s hand and rushing out from under the tent.

You had an idea of just how ridiculous the two of you must’ve looked, holding hands and running in the rain as an umbrella dangled off of your wrist, but you would be lying if you didn’t admit just how fun it was. 

It was surprisingly easy to find your vehicle, but before you could slip into the passenger side, Jake grabbed you by your waist and pulled you into a rather dramatic and surprisingly passionate kiss. 

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” he gasped breathlessly, winded from both running and kissing you so intensely. 

“Rom-com kiss? I think we can both cross that off of our bucket lists,” you giggled, pecking his lips once more before getting into the car. 

“That was fun. We should do it again sometime,” Jake chimed as he sat down next to you, immediately blasting the heat in the car. 

“I think we have different definitions of fun,” you panted. 

—- 

It was a miracle that Jake had managed to stay over so long, usually opting to leave your apartment sometime in the evening with a gentle kiss and a promise to be back the following weekend. But not tonight. Following a second shower together—the result of getting so damp at the night market—Jake followed you to bed and laid on his side as he watched you get a book out and try to relax your mind enough to fall asleep. 

You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t love when he decided to stay over an extra night, or that you didn’t love when he got into one of his ‘lost puppy dog’ moods where all he wanted to do was follow you around and be close to you. Hence, why you didn’t comment on him laying his head on your stomach while you attempted to read, despite the action distracting you every time you noticed the heap of wet curls sticking out from the top of your book.

“Would you marry me someday?” he asked out of the blue, looking up at you from where his head was resting on your stomach. 

You would be taken aback, but it wasn’t the first time one of you pulled out a future card after a long day of domestic bliss. 

“What do you think?” you asked, setting your book down on your bedside table. 

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you,” the earnest look on his face telling you that he genuinely was curious—if not a little concerned—about what your answer would be. 

“We’re practically a married couple already,” you slipped your hands down to cup his face. “Some of my friends think we’ve been engaged for months. I’ve received texts asking why they haven’t been invited to the ceremony.”

You both chuckle at that, Jake’s sounding slightly more nervous than your own. You rubbed at his forehead gently with your thumb, as if you could wipe away his worry lines. 

“Please don’t look so anxious. I will marry you someday. Hell, if you proposed to me right now, I would find a minister online and marry you in this bed at this very moment. How else are we gonna have two and a half kids, a few cats and dogs, and a garden full of meaningful flowers in our suburban upstate home?”

“We could be lifelong partners…?”

“Shh,” you cooed before beckoning him closer to you. “C’mere.”

Jake readjusted himself so he could properly spoon you, giving you a second to hit your bedside lamp before wrapping his arms and body around you. 

“That wasn’t you proposing to me, was it?” you asked, your hands finding his as you cuddled. 

“No! No. I just wanted to gauge how you feel about me.”

“You really think I would say no to marrying you?”

“Possibly.”

“Jake!”

“I just come with a lot of baggage, you know? Seeing each other is one thing, but marriage?”

You rolled over a bit awkwardly so you could properly face the man. “I would spend the rest of my life with you if you had three eyes, a tail, and were the owner of the baggage factory. We all have our things. I don’t love you any less because of it.”

Jake sighed, and you weren’t quite sure whether it was a sigh of relief or surrender. 

“It’s true. Really. You need to worry less about whether or not I’d say yes, and worry more about how you’re gonna propose. I love you, but asking to get married while I’m trying to read before bed isn’t gonna cut it. I might end up thinking it’s a dream.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Maybe even add it to my proposal notebook.”

“You have a notebook on how you’re gonna propose to me?”

“Maybe…” he drew the word out.  

“You are so…” you broke out into laughter. “I don’t even know. I just adore you.”

“Would it be redundant to say that I adore you?”

“Maybe a little bit. But I wanna hear it anyway.”

“I adore you. I truly love you to the moon and back,” he hummed, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. 

“Mm, music to my ears,” you yawned sleepily. “I love you too. Sweet dreams.”

“With you? Always.”