#the ones that tell you very specific details

[hannieehaee]

BOY WITH LUV (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: a new job as a barista should be easy enough, right? except it gets a whole lot more complicated when the coffee shop's most loved client just decides he has to have you OR richboy!jk falls for barista!reader and refuses to give up.

content: richboy!jk, downbad!jk, barista!reader, sub-ish!jk, reader plays hard to get just for plot purposes, jk is down horribly bad for reader, afab reader, smut, dry humping, jk's the embodiment of needy, fingering, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 1.2k (teaser); 8.8k (full fic)

RELEASE DATE: october 22nd

or you can check it out on my patreon today by subscribing!

a/n: downbad!jk is back!

masterlist | patreon

"Anyways just be careful with how many pumps you add to drinks. Customers can be extremely sensitive about that kind of stuff. Trust me," rambled on your new trainer, Jen? Jess? Something like that.

You watched disinterested, already having had a menial barista job in the past and being well aware of the high expectations of disgruntled customers. You, too, had been verbally harassed by one too many people in dire need of a drink far too specific for the average person to memorize. It was still appreciated, though, the effort she took in walking you through every step to ensure you did good at your new position.

Despite your focus on the task being demonstrated to you not being at its best, you did take notice when Jean(?) stopped her mentoring and instead spilled some of the drink she was currently making, clearly now equally as distracted as you. Her focus was no longer on the counter you were practicing drinks on, but instead looking past you and towards the counter a few steps behind you.

You meant to call out her name to question her, but without an angle on her name tag or any confidence in actually remembering the correct name, you simply grabbed at a nearby towel and cleaned off the mess, not bothering to look at whatever was distracting her. It was too early for you to bother.

Snapping out of her trance mere seconds later, she tapped at your shoulder urgently, her voice now a whisper as she leaned close for you to hear what she was about to say.

"Oh my God, don't look, but that's Jungkook," she whispered excitedly, as if letting you in on information you had any context about — hint: you had no idea who nor what she was referring to.

Turning around, you eyed another one of your new coworkers tending to the line at the counter, but more specifically helping out some guy. Focusing your eyes on him, you could now understand why his presence had caused a short-circuit in Jane (?) and why she felt the need to announce his presence to you.

The distraction in question presented itself in the form of a very tall and fit guy, one with a fully tattooed sleeve and dreamy black curls. Other outstanding attributes were the very obvious muscles encompassing his entire body and the shine that came from the various piercings on his face. In short, the man was nothing short of a dream straight from a Pinterest board — and the charisma radiating from his mere presence did not help matters.

"He's a regular. No one really knows much about him other than he's rich. He tips like 200% above his total," continued June, still leaning in your direction to whisper.

You felt bad at how obvious you were whilst staring at the boy, but he was likely the prettiest one you'd seen in a while. The blank expression in your stare did not tell on you, but it did not deny the fact that you were staring.

"We take turns serving him," your coworker informed you, "Sometimes we fight over it. He's a natural flirt, but he does it with everyone, so we're not sure if he's taken or not," she proceeded to tell you benign details about him that had you nodding along as you continued to stare at him.

The usually fast-paced place seemed to slow down when he entered the coffee shop, with most baristas' attentions going to him rather than their jobs. If he was aware of it, he was good at ignoring it, instead giving a flashy smile to the lucky barista currently tending to him. From the short distance between you, you were unable to hear his conversation, but you still had a perfect view of him as he simply existed. He could easily see you, as there was nothing in his way, but he hadn't yet, somehow oblivious to the attention he was receiving from all other baristas in the house.

As time stood still for everyone else, it continued normally for him. He paid for his drink, having it quickly bypass all other prior orders and made immediately by one of the many girls fawning at him. God, even the two baristas working the drive-thru had taken a short break from it go gawk.

It wasn't until moments later that Jungkook seemed to get a taste of his own medicine, with his own time suddenly coming to a halt. As he turned around to leave, sweet drink now in hand, his eyes incidentally met yours, causing him to pause mid turn and do a double take in order to catch your eyes again.

It was ridiculous, really. Almost too identical to those moments you'd see in those dumb romcoms you used to enjoy as a teenager. Except this was actually happening. And it was happening to you. As all your new coworkers watched his every move with extreme attention.

His eyes widened a bit. It was something the naked eye might've missed, but not you (nor the other five girls watching). His head tilted a bit to the side — maybe in curiosity due to not having seen you there before (Joanne did mention he was a regular). A ghost of a smirk took over the natural smile that had been on his lips since arrival. And lastly, a nod was sent your way — a nod in acknowledgment to your presence, but also with a flirtatious hint to it. It was hard to describe. You simply had to be there.

You remained watching him with a poker face throughout. The same poker face you'd had since clocking in to work that morning. It wasn't that you were mean or not a people person, you simply hated work. You'd been told you had a bit of a resting bitch face and gave a mean impression to those who didn't know you, but that was beside the point. The pretty boy whose attention you'd caught had gotten lucky, though, as he at least received the ghost of a smile from you before he left.

The first thing to occur upon his departure was a squeal from your left. The perpetrator? Julie (or whatever her name was).

"Oh my god!," she let out, grabbing onto your shoulder so you'd face her, "Did you see that?"

"See what?", you asked, not 100% sure of what had just happened.

"He totally checked you out . He's never done that before. Maybe he likes you? God, don't let Lila find out, she's got a huge crush on him," she informed you, once again assuming you knew who the hell Lila was.

"Hah, I think he might've just been surprised to see a new face," you downplayed, "What were you explaining before he got here? The thing with the pumps and the-"

"He comes here every morning at 8 or so. How about you take his order tomorrow? Y'know, just to test my theory," she suggested, disregarding your question.

"Orders? It's my first day here. Isn't training like two weeks lon-"

"It's fine! I'll be shadowing you. You'll do great! Now let's get back to your training-"

"Jane! I need more change at drive thru!", called one of the drive thru girls, interrupting your conversation.

"Coming, Lila!", she responded, giving you a polite smile before handing you the shaker she had just been holding, "Just practice some drinks how I taught you. I'll be right back to show you how to work the register."

So her name was Jane. And that was Lila.

At least you learned something today.

...

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[hoe4hotchner]

With blood on his hands | [A.H]

Pairing: UnSub!Hotch x gn!reader CW: Dark. This story contains descriptions of graphic violence, murder, mental illness, grief, and emotional distress. Dark themes, betrayal, loss of control, and fear, kidnapping, physical aggression, helplessness. WC: 5.2k

Please don't request a part 2 unless you have a very specific idea, my brain physically couldn't come up with more plot for this.

           The house was quiet. Too quiet. Bearing signs of life throughout the whole layout of the building, yet the disturbing truth of what had happened made you uneasy.

           It was the same scene they’d encountered twice already - an all-American family, slaughtered in their home, with no apparent struggle, no clear motive. A mother, a father, and their young son, all lying lifeless, their blood staining the carpets, their lives ruthlessly cut short.

           You stood beside Rossi, your hands clad in gloves, and a frown etched upon your face as you surveyed the scene. The scent of blood and suffering hung heavy in the air, choking your senses. You had seen your fair share of horrors, but this was different. This unsub was different.

           "Third one this week," Rossi murmured beside you, his voice gruff with exhaustion and irritation, feeling the weight of the case starting to take its toll. "We need to catch this guy before he strikes again."

           You nodded, eyes scanning the room as your mind worked through the details. This unsub wasn’t just killing; he was destroying. The brutality of the murders suggested rage - deep and personal rage. There was a familiarity to the way everything was laid out that you couldn't put a finger on.

           You stepped over to the nightstand, where the mother’s jewelry lay scattered. Your eyes caught a golden ring, glinting in the light. You reached for it instinctively, feeling a strange pull toward the piece of metal. It was simple but familiar, in a way that made your stomach churn with suspicion.

           Frowning, you held it up to the light, inspecting it. That’s when it hit you like a punch to the gut.

           You knew this ring.

           Your blood ran cold as memories flooded your mind. Years of working alongside him, watching him fiddle with that exact band on long nights at the office, lost in thought as he processed information and clues. You had seen it on his finger countless times.

           Hotch.

           Your heart pounded in your chest, a dizzying sense of disbelief washing over you. There was no way. No possible way. You told yourself it was a mistake, that the stress of the case was playing tricks on your mind.

           But the more you stared at the ring, the more your instincts screamed at you.

           You weren't wrong about this.

           You swallowed hard, slipping the ring back onto the dresser. Rossi hadn’t noticed your reaction, he was busy analyzing the scene with his usual calm efficiency. You forced yourself to stay composed, your mind racing.

           The families. The pattern. A mother, a father, and a young son. Haley and Jack. It was so obvious.

           It all clicked into place with horrifying clarity. Hotch's stressor… the deaths of his family. You remembered the way he had shut down after losing them, how the grief had changed him. But never in your worst nightmares could you have imagined this. This was not the man you knew.

           You took a shaky breath, your mind spinning. You couldn’t tell Rossi - not yet - he wouldn't believe you. Wouldn't believe that his oldest friend was capable of this. Not until you were sure. Not until you’d seen Aaron, looked him in the eyes, and confronted him yourself. You owed him that much.

           "Dave," you said, forcing your voice to stay steady, "I’m going to head out. I need to check something."

           He glanced over at you, raising an eyebrow. "You okay? You look pale."

           "I’m fine," you lied, offering a weak smile. "Just need to follow up on a hunch."

           Rossi nodded, distracted by something on the floor, and you took the opportunity to slip away, your heart pounding in your chest. You could barely keep your hands from trembling as you made your way out of the house and into your car. Thankfully you had arrived separately.

           The drive to Aaron’s old house felt like a blur, your mind spinning with possibilities. Every part of you hoped you were wrong. That this was all some horrible mistake, that there was no way the man you had worked with for years could be behind these murders, that this was truly just some twisted dream, and that you'd wake up soon.

           But deep down, you knew.

           This was reality.

           When you pulled up to Aaron’s house, the pit in your stomach deepened. His car was in the driveway, the lights inside the house dim and all the curtains closed. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stay calm. You had to confront him. You had to know the truth.

           You walked up to the door, every step feeling like a death sentence. When you knocked, there was a long pause. Then the door creaked open, revealing Aaron, standing in the doorway. He looked disheveled, his eyes dark and sunken, the weight of grief and something darker pressing down on him.

           "(Y/N)," he said, his voice low and rough. "What are you doing here?"

           You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat. You stared at him, your heart racing as you noticed the subtle signs - the tension in his posture, the way his hands flexed at his sides. And most of all, the unmistakable wedding band missing from his finger.

           "I…" you began, your voice trembling. "I need to talk to you."

           Aaron’s eyes flickered, something unreadable passing behind them. He stepped aside, letting you in without a word. You walked into the house, the air thick with tension, your nerves screaming at you to turn around and leave, to get out while you still had the chance. But you couldn’t. Not now.

           As you stepped further into the room, your eyes landed on something that made your stomach drop - on the kitchen counter, barely noticeable, was a small streak of blood. Fresh blood.

           Aaron closed the door behind you, the sound echoing ominously through the quiet house.

           "You shouldn’t have come here," he said, his voice low, almost a growl.

           Your heart pounded in your chest as you turned to face him, the realization crashing down on you with terrifying certainty. Aaron Hotchner wasn’t just your old colleague. He wasn’t just the man that had been your boss. He was the unsub you were looking for. He was the monster you’d been chasing.

           And now, you were alone with him.

           Hotch stood over the lifeless body sprawled across the floor in his living room, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his knuckles bruised and bloody. The man beneath him had been dead for several minutes now, his face a mangled mess of flesh and bone, barely recognizable.

           Hotch’s fists clenched and unclenched, the blood dripping from his fingers painting the carpet with small, crimson pools. His heart was pounding, not from fear or guilt, but from the pure adrenaline coursing through his veins. He should have felt something - regret, remorse, shame—but there was only emptiness. Nothingness. And rage.

           The rage never left him. It simmered beneath the surface, a constant presence, threatening to consume him whole. After Haley and Jack, everything had spiraled. Their deaths had shattered the last bit of humanity he had clung to. He had tried, God knows he had tried, to be the man everyone needed. The leader. The protector. But after them, something inside him had broken, irreparably so.

           At first, he had managed to keep it hidden. But over time, the mask had slipped, the cracks becoming impossible to cover. The anger had grown, festering like a disease, until it had taken over every part of him. It was easier this way. Easier to stop pretending to be the good guy, the man who saved lives, when all he wanted to do was destroy them.

           Besides the way he had hurt Foyet had felt so good.

           He turned his head, his gaze cold and calculating, as a knock landed on the door.

           The scent of sweat hung thick in the air, and the room was suffocating with the tension of your predicament.

           You stood in the doorway, your eyes wide with shock, taking in the scene before you. The man on the ground, the blood, the violence. And Hotch. Not a single drop could be seen on his clothes. Only his hands bore signs of the crime. Your mouth moved, but no sound came out. You were frozen, paralyzed by the realization of what you were seeing. What he had done.

           Hotch stared at you, his chest rising and falling with shallow, uneven breaths. The look on your face - the fear, the disbelief - only fueled the fire inside him. For a moment, there was silence, an unbearable tension hanging between the two of you.

           Then, he spoke. His voice was low, a growl barely restrained by the thin thread of control he had left within him.

           “You really shouldn’t have come here.” He repeated his previous statement

           You blinked, finally finding your voice. “Aaron... what have you done? This isn't you.”

           Hotch’s jaw clenched, his eyes darkening with something unrecognizable. He took a step toward you, the cold gleam in his eyes sending a shiver down your spine. “I did what needed to be done.”

           You could barely breathe, your mind racing as you tried to process what had happened. This wasn’t the man you knew. The man you had worked with for years, the man you had trusted. The man you had secretly loved. He terrified you now. This was someone else entirely - a predator, who was cold and unfeeling.

           “Aaron, please...” Your voice shook as you took a step back, instinctively retreating from the danger that loomed before you. “You don’t have to do this.”

           His eyes flashed with anger, and in an instant, he was on you, his hand gripping your arm with a force that made you wince. His breath was hot against your ear as he whispered, “Don’t tell me what I have to do. You don't know anything”

           You swallowed hard, trying to remain calm despite the fear coursing through you. “This isn’t you,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “You’re not a killer.”

           His grip tightened, and you gasped, pain shooting through you as you felt him slightly twisting your arm. “Aren’t I?” His voice was sharp and dangerous. “Do you know what it feels like, to lose everything? Watching them die? Knowing you couldn’t stop it? Knowing that you weren't fast enough?”

           Tears welled in your eyes as you tried to pull away from him, but his hold was unrelenting. “Aaron, please,” you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. “This won’t bring them back. What Foyet did was terrible.”

           For a moment, you thought you saw something - some flicker of humanity cross his face. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by cold indifference. He released you, shoving you back roughly. You stumbled, catching yourself against the wall, your heart pounding in your chest.

           Hotch stood there, his eyes burning with fury, his hands still stained with blood. “Don't tell me what's right or wrong. They’re gone and nothing can bring them back,” he said through gritted teeth, his voice void of emotion. “There’s nothing left for me but this.”

           You shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks. “There’s more to you than this. You’re better than this, Aaron. I know you are.”

           He laughed, a bitter, cruel sound that sent chills down your spine. “Better? Better for who? For you? For the bureau didn't trust me to be in the field after what happened?” His eyes bore into yours, and you could feel the hatred radiating off him. “Do you really think you know me? The man I am now?”

           You didn’t answer, too afraid of what he might do next. His rage was palpable, an almost physical force that seemed to fill the room, choking you with its intensity.

           He moved toward you again, his eyes wild, his movements erratic. “You think you can save me? Is that it? You always had a savior complex, just like Morgan.” He grabbed your chin roughly, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You can’t save me. No one can.”

           You trembled under his touch, your heart thrashing in your chest, trying to claw its way out as his fingers dug into your skin. For a moment, you thought he might hurt you, that you might face the same predicament as the lifeless body in his living room. That he might go too far. But then, just as quickly as the anger had flared, it seemed to dissipate, leaving only emptiness in its wake.

           He released you, stepping back, his breathing heavy and uneven. His hands shook as he wiped them on his pants, the blood smearing across the fabric. He looked at you, something dark and broken in his eyes. “You should leave,” he said, his voice hollow as he turned his back to you.

           You swallowed, your throat dry. “Aaron—”

           “Go.” His voice was cold, final. There was no room for argument.

           You hesitated for a moment, torn between the part of you that wanted to stay, to help him, and the part that knew he was too far gone. Finally, with a heavy heart, you turned and walked toward the door, your footsteps echoing in the silence.

           As you reached the doorway, you turned back to look at him one last time. He was standing in the center of the room, staring down at his blood-stained hands, his expression unreadable.

           “Aaron,” you whispered, a single tear rolling down your cheek, and your voice breaking. “I’m sorry.”

           But he didn’t look back. He didn’t say a word. And as you stepped out into the night, the door closing behind you with a soft click, you knew that the man you had once known was gone.

           The door had barely closed behind you when Hotch’s mind snapped back into a cold calculation. He could still feel the sting of your words in the air, your plea for him to stop. You should leave, he’d told you. But now, as silence wrapped around him, a horrifying realization dawned - you knew of him.

           Who else knew?

           You were the only one who had seen him like this, who knew what he had done. The team… They would never believe it on their own. Not until you told them, he was sure of that. But what evidence did you have to back up your claim?

           His pulse quickened. His anger, momentarily soothed by the violence he'd unleashed, flared again. He couldn’t let you leave. He wouldn’t.

           He moved quickly, his body still humming with adrenaline. You had made it to the end of the driveway when you heard him behind you. His footsteps were heavy and purposeful. You froze, your heart pounding in your chest.

           "Aaron?" you called over your shoulder, your voice trembling. But there was no response, only the oppressive sound of his approaching footsteps. Fear gripped you.

           Before you could take another step, he was on you. His strong hand wrapped around your wrist like a vice, yanking you back toward him with brutal force. You gasped, struggling against his hold, but it was no use. His grip was unyielding, his expression dark and twisted as he dragged you back into the house, thankful that he and Haley had bought a house in a secluded area.

           "You thought you could just walk away?" His voice was low, a deadly whisper, sending a chill down your spine. "That you could leave me and run straight to the team? Tell them about what I've been doing?"

           You blinked, fear coursing through you as you tried to speak. "No, Aaron, I—"

           "Don’t lie to me!" he snarled, his face inches from yours. "I see it in your eyes. You were going to tell them. Weren’t you?"

           Terror constricted your throat. You wanted to scream, to plead with him, but the words wouldn’t come. His anger was suffocating, his eyes filled with a malice you’d never seen before.

           "I can’t let you do that," he said, his voice eerily calm now, the storm of his fury momentarily quieted by cold calculation. "You’ll ruin everything. This—" He gestured to the leftover blood still staining his hands. "This is who I am now. And you’re not going to stop me."

           Without warning, he yanked you roughly into the storage closet, slamming the door shut behind him. The darkness swallowed you both whole. You stumbled, trying to catch your balance, but Hotch was determined. His large frame loomed over you, his hand still gripping your wrist with bruising force.

           "Please, Aaron, you don’t have to do this," you whispered, your voice shaking as you tried to reason with him. Tried to pull yourself out of his grip.

           But his expression was unreadable now, lost in the darkness. His fingers tightened around your wrist, and you winced in pain. A high-pitched whimper left your throat as the pain coursed through every single nerve in your body.

           "I do." His voice was cold, devoid of the empathy and warmth you once knew in him. "You’re the only one who knows as far as I can tell. And if I let you walk out of here, it’s over for me."

           Your breath hitched, panic rising in your chest. "Aaron, I won’t tell anyone," you pleaded, desperation leaking into your voice. "I swear, I—"

           "I told you don’t lie to me," he hissed, cutting you off with a deadly glare. "I can’t trust you. Not anymore."

           The air was thick with tension, the weight of his gaze suffocating. You could barely make out the features of his face as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, but you could feel the cold determination, it was unmistakable. He had made up his mind. There was no reasoning with him, no turning back.

           Hotch fumbled with something on the wall and soon enough the overhead light bulb flickered on, the dim light barely bright enough to light up his features. Before you could react, Hotch pulled a length of duct tape from a nearby shelf, yanking it free with a sharp sound. Your heart raced, and you instinctively tried to back away, but he was faster. With a cruel efficiency, he shoved you up against the wall, pressing his body against yours to keep you in place.

           “Stop fighting me,” he growled, his breath hot on your neck.

           You struggled, trying to wriggle out of his grip, but it was no use. He was stronger, and his anger gave him a terrifying, unnatural strength. The tape wound around your wrists, biting into your skin as he bound you tightly. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you realized there was no escape.

           When he was finished, he stepped back, watching you with an unnerving calm. Your heart pounded in your chest, panic threatening to overtake you.

           "What are you going to do?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

           Hotch tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he considered you. “I’m going to make sure you can’t destroy everything.” His voice was cold, emotionless. “I’ve lost too much already. I won’t lose control again.”

           Without warning, he grabbed you, throwing you over his shoulder with brutal force. You screamed, but the sound was muffled by the closet walls. His grip on you was like iron as he carried you out of the building, and into the garage where his car waited patiently.

           You thrashed against him, panic clawing at your throat. But it didn’t matter. His mind was made up, and his body moved with the cold precision of a man who had crossed the line of no return, a man who wasn’t coming back.

           He tossed you into the trunk of his SUV, the metal cold against your back as he slammed the hatch shut, trapping you inside. The darkness closed in around you, and all you could hear was the sound of your own panicked breathing and the engine roaring as Hotch turned the car on.

           You were trapped.

           The engine screeched as Hotch drove with grim determination, the rain streaking the windshield of his SUV. His fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white at the force of his grip. You still lay in the cramped trunk, the tape burning the skin on your wrists as you struggled to free yourself. Hotch had made a stop after about an hour on the road on the road to gag your screams, he was tired of hearing your begs and pleas for mercy. You lay helpless as the vehicle bumped along the dark, slick road. Every movement jostled your body, sending sharp pains through your limbs, but the terror coursing through you dulled the physical discomfort.

           The man behind the wheel was someone you thought you knew. But this version of Hotch was a stranger.

           His phone buzzed on the dashboard, but he ignored it. You could barely make out the faint sounds through the barrier between you, but you knew it had to be the team. They had to realize by now. But the phone in your pocket still clutched tightly against your side despite the restraints, was your only lifeline. Garcia could trace it if you managed to answer it the next time they tried your number. The team would find you, you were sure of it.

           But Hotch already knew that. And he wasn’t going to let it happen.

           Your heart raced as the SUV took a sharp turn, causing your body to slide slightly across the floor of the trunk. The storm outside was intensifying, and you could feel your anxiety building in the way he drove — focused and determined. He had a plan.

           The car slowed, the rhythmic thud of the rain against the roof of the trunk filling the silence. He pulled off the main road, the sound of gravel crunching beneath the tires. Your pulse quickened as the vehicle came to a stop.

           A car door slammed shut, and you heard his heavy footsteps approaching. The trunk popped open, letting in the cool, rain-soaked air. Hotch loomed over you, his face set in a harsh, emotionless mask. Without a word, he reached down, his grip bruising as he grabbed you by the arm and pulled you out of the trunk. You stumbled onto the muddy ground, barely able to keep your balance.

           His fingers moved deftly, reaching into your pocket and yanking out your phone. His lips curled into a dark smirk, his eyes flashing with twisted amusement.

           “You thought the team would save you,” he grinned in a low almost scary voice. “You thought Garcia would trace this… pathetic.” He held up your phone. A flash of lightning struck down in the distance behind him.

           Before you could react, he dropped the phone on the ground and crushed it under his heel before throwing it into the lake you had stopped near. You barely heard it splash into water over the sound of the pounding rain. Hotch calmly walked over to a large rock, grabbing it with both hands. You watched in horror as he smashed his own phone repeatedly, reducing it to a mess of shattered glass and plastic.

           Your only connection to the outside world was now gone.

Hotch turned back to you, his face illuminated by the brief flashes of lightning. His expression was as cold and unfeeling as the storm around you, but there was something darker in his eyes — a satisfaction in watching your hope slip away.

           “You always were smart,” he murmured, stepping closer, towering over you. “Too smart for your own good.”

           Without another word, he shoved you back into the trunk, his strength leaving no room for resistance. You were thrown back into the small, confined space. The rain and the outside world disappeared, leaving you in pitch-black darkness once again.

           The car started again, the engine rumbling as Hotch continued driving. You were no longer sure where you were, feeling like he potentially had driven you in circles to throw you off track, and that uncertainty gnawed at you. There was no doubt in your mind that Hotch had planned this meticulously. He had been covering his tracks, eliminating threats, and now he was eliminating your ability to interfere.

           The drive felt endless, the sound of rain against the roof your only marker of time passing. You tried to shift, to loosen the restraints on your wrists, but every movement sent sharp pain through your limbs. The car’s motion made you nauseous, the fear and discomfort blending into a haze.

           Eventually, the car slowed again. You felt the shift in the vehicle as it came to a stop. The air was suffocating, your breath quickening in panic as you heard the sound of the driver’s door opening for the third time and then the distant crunch of dried leaves under Hotch’s footsteps. Where had he taken you?

           The trunk opened again, and Hotch’s silhouette was backlit by the faintest glimmer of moonlight filtering through the storm clouds looming above. His face was unreadable, but there was no regret, no hesitation in his actions. He reached in and grabbed you roughly by the arm as he pulled you from the trunk once more.

           You were in the middle of nowhere - an abandoned building ahead, its windows dark and some of them were even shattered.

           The perfect place for someone to disappear.

           “We’re going inside,” Hotch growled, his voice harsh and barren of the warmth it once held.

           Your legs buckled beneath you, no strength left to carry your body, but Hotch didn’t care. He hauled you toward the entrance of the building with ease, his grip bruising on your bicep as he pulled you through the door. The interior was pitch black, the only sound was your rapid, panicked breaths and the distant rumble of thunder as the last of the storm was passing you.

           He led you through the building, the air biting at your skin. You could feel the hatred radiating from him - the complete absence of the man you once knew. He stopped in the center of a large, empty room, turning to face you with a dark, predatory gaze.

           “You should’ve stayed out of it,” he hissed, his voice low and dripping with venom. “But you couldn’t help yourself. You just had to know.”

           He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming as he reached out, his fingers gripping your chin tightly, forcing you to look up at him. His eyes bore into yours, cold and merciless.

           “You’ll wish you hadn’t.”

           The BAU team gathered in their conference room, the air filled with a heavy silence. The flickering lights of the monitors and the scattered case files did little to lighten the grim atmosphere. The latest string of killings had left them all feeling drained and frustrated. They knew the pattern - the targeted families of three - but the connection was proving elusive.

           Reid, hunched over his paper files, spoke up. “The pattern is consistent. Every victim family has been targeted in a specific order: the father is always the first to go, followed by the mother, and then the child. We’re missing a crucial piece of the puzzle. Why does the unsub want the sons to watch their parents get murdered?”

           Morgan, pacing back and forth, nodded grimly. “We’ve checked financial records, phone records, and even personal connections, but nothing’s coming up. It’s like the unsub is just a ghost.” He listed, counting with his fingers as he mentioned each thing.

           Rossi, reviewing photos from the crime scenes, frowned in concentration. “There’s something we’re not seeing. Maybe we need to look at the details of each scene once again, this time more closely. There’s got to be a common thread.”

           Garcia was furiously typing away, her eyes darting between various screens. She was usually the one bringing good news or revelations, but this time her face was a mask of worry. “I’ve cross-referenced all known data, and I’m still coming up empty. It’s like the unsub is erasing every trace of himself.”

           Penelope’s words were interrupted by the sudden appearance of a new piece of evidence popping up on her screen. The team watched in quiet concern as she displayed a series of images on the large television screen behind them. The new evidence came from a tech at the latest crime scene.

           “Look at this,” Garcia said, her voice trembling slightly as she pointed to a photo of a golden wedding ring lying on a dresser. “I’ve run the image through our database. It’s not just any ring. It’s a unique design only a handful made in total, and I found a match.”

           The room fell silent as the team examined the image. Reid’s eyes widened as he recognized the significance too. “That ring… it’s a distinct piece. I’ve seen it before.”

           Rossi’s gaze shifted from the photo to Garcia. “You’re saying this ring could be linked to someone we know?”

           Garcia nodded, her fingers flying across the keyboard. “I cross-referenced it with our records, and it matches the description of a ring worn by someone in our team.” She swallowed the lump in her throat as she saw the name displayed on her laptop.

           The realization hit like a thunderclap. The team exchanged worried glances, their earlier frustration giving way to a new kind of dread. Rossi’s face darkened as he leaned in closer.

           Garcia nodded again, her expression serious as she confirmed the words Rossi had been about to ask. “The ring belongs to Hotch.”

           The room erupted into chaos. Morgan’s eyes widened in shock, and Reid’s expression was one of horror. “No way,” Morgan said, his voice filled with disbelief. “Hotch? He’s one of the most dedicated agents we’ve ever worked with.”

           “Is there any chance it could be a coincidence?” Rossi asked, his voice tight with concern. "That it's one of the other owners of similar rings?"

           Garcia shook her head, her face pale. “I don’t think so, they've all been spotted across the country and have rock-solid alibis. The design is too specific. And if Hotch is involved, we need to find him before it’s too late.”

           Reid began to piece together the information, his mind racing. “If Hotch is connected to the unsub, then it’s possible that he’s been orchestrating these murders from within. We need to act fast.”

           The team sprang into action, their earlier determination now transformed into urgency. Rossi and Morgan began to gather additional evidence and check Hotch’s recent whereabouts. Reid and Garcia worked on tracking Hotch’s phone, hoping to pinpoint his location.

           As the team raced against time, their focus sharpened on finding Hotch and uncovering the truth behind his involvement in the killings. Each agent’s heart pounded with the realization that someone they trusted might be the very monster they were hunting. But they were not ready to admit it just yet.

           Meanwhile, the darkness within Hotch continued to grow, his plans advancing while the team desperately tried to uncover the truth.

           The next move was crucial - finding Hotch could be the piece they were missing.

[tgmsunmontue]

You found me - one-shot (complete)

13k Explicit Hangster AU - Soulmates first words are on your skin. Started for the Bingo. Jake is a singer and Bradley is the newly arrived member of his security detail. Tooth-rotting FLUFF and SMUT.

YOU FOUND ME

                Why can you not stay where we fucking tell you to?

                Jake hadn’t ever intended to make music his career. His sister definitely had, and he’d just been dragged along to drive her around, and because he was already there he’d often help out with either singing or playing one of the instruments. They’d both grown up surrounded by music, and now she’s his most fiercely-loyal supporter, but also never lets him forget that he’d never be where he is if it hadn’t been for her. He loves it most of the time, but the touring starts to drag, although meeting fans around the world and getting to travel is amazing. He just gets homesick sometimes.

                Also the fame is double-edged. He’s glad his words are where they are, a small cramped script right in the curve of his inner left thigh right beside his groin. Almost impossible for anyone to see or get a photo of, even when he’s done nude photo shoots. Of course, it had started the rumors that he’s mark-less, which is a rumor he’s okay with being out there. It stops the people trying to match with him at least, but it doesn’t stop the people who simply want to try and be with him because of the fame.

                However his words are pretty damned specific; he’s had a variation of them said to him a number of times over the years, which always makes him give a double take. Always false alarms though. Kind of embarrassing when he thinks about the potential meaning behind them, like he’s a child being scolded for wandering off. Like right now. The concert is over, he’s done the glad-handing with the fans that had the money to burn to buy VIP backstage passes, has had too many photos taken, his cheeks hurt from smiling the fake media smile too much. He’s tired and lonely and he just wants to sleep for days. Three more concerts to go and then he gets to go home.

                The crunch of gravel underfoot has him turning his head and he lets out a quiet sigh and closes his eyes. Caught again. Not by fans or anyone dangerous, but definitely someone who isn’t pleased to find him out here alone. It’s the new guy. He can’t remember his name, other than it starting with a b, because he’d automatically gone with the alliteration with bodyguard. So B-something. He should really try and pay more attention, but the guy had been brought in late, in the last Australasian stretch of the tour because Javy’s dad had had a heart-attack and had needed to get home ASAP. So this guy had been brought in and the introductions had happened during sound testing a couple of days ago and Jake doesn’t think the guy likes him very much, doesn’t think they’ve exchanged a single word to each other.

                However Jake thinks B-something might feel about him, he’s sure he’s a professional. He certainly looks the part, fucking built, taller than Jake by only an inch, but broader, and fridge-like comes to mind, his pants clearly straining against the thick muscles in his thighs as he stalks toward Jake, clearly angry and he sighs internally, an apology already forming on his lips, because he doesn’t like to make other’s jobs more difficult. He doesn’t intentionally wander off, but sometimes he just really misses the peace and quiet of wide-open spaces.

                “Ugh, yeah, you found me,” Jake mutters, the words slipping out and he’s aware it makes him sound like a petulant spoiled kid but he can work on his image later. Maybe when he’s not surviving on adrenaline and caffeine, dead on his feet. He is ready for this tour to be over.

                “Why can you not stay where we fucking tell you to?”

                “I’m sorry, wait, shit, what did you say?”

                B-something is looking at him in shock, eyes and mouth all wide circles and okay, that makes all the tiredness he’s been feeling turn to fizzing energy in his veins. Holy shit. He just found his soul mate.

                “You… you said my words.”

                “And you said mine. If that wasn’t already obvious.”

                “You really need to not wander off, I can’t keep you safe if I don’t know where you are,” B-something says, his tone softer, gentler and Jake laughs silently; privately thinks his days wandering off are now gone, not with a soul mate to get to know. However he’s going to have to admit he doesn’t remember his name. Ugh. What a way to seem even more like an asshole.

                “I’m sorry, I know we were introduced only a couple of days ago, but I don’t remember your name…”

                “Bradley Bradshaw.”

                “Bs… lots of bs, that did stick in my head. The alliteration.”

                “Some of my friends call me Bradbrad.”

                “Well, I’m Jake. Uh. Call me Jake.”

                “Not Mr Seresin?”

                “No!” Jake responds instantly, vehement.

                “So, what do you think we’re working with here?” Bradley asks, and it’s going to take Jake a while to get used to using his name. His mind is offering up potentially ridiculous lines Bradley Bradshaw the bodyguard built of beautiful bricks I want to lick. God he definitely needs some sleep. And proper food. Not necessarily in that order.

                “Huh?”

                “What kind of bond do you think we’re working with?”

                “Oh. Uh,” he swallows roughly, because he’s an out and proud not-straight man, and soulmates generally get a free pass anyway. Except… “Hopefully not platonic,” Jake provides, and the slow smile Bradley gives him makes his skin prickle and he’s suddenly feeling a lot more awake.

                “Okay. Well I guess we’re going to go one a few dates and see where they take us…”

                “What do you mean?”

                “Well, it’s a potential. Not a guarantee right? Only fifty percent chance it’s romantic.”

                “You want to date me?”

                “How else am I going to get to know you?” Jake opens and closes his mouth, because he has a good point, instead just nods his head. “Come on. Let me get you back to the hotel.”

…            …            …

                Bradley hadn’t known what to expect when he’d been asked to urgently take over the security detail for Jake Seresin. Finding his soulmate had not been anywhere near the list of things to expect. The very tired man who is half-walking, half-stumbling as if drunk is somehow meant to complete him in ways he doesn’t know yet, and okay, Bradley’s open to the possibilities. First though, the guy needs sleep. And maybe food.

                He sends a quick message through to the other two, Rueben and Lee, lets them know he’s found him and taking him back to the hotel room. That some room service wouldn’t go amiss, although he fully expects Seresin’s, no, Jake’s PR manager Natasha to be there waiting for them, no doubt ready to rip him a new one. That woman is terrifying. He pushes open the door and sure enough she’s there, pausing in her pacing and she turns to them.

                “Jesus Jake! What were you –”

                “He’s hungry and tired and he won’t go wandering off again. At least not without me.”

                “Well great, that’s another six days. Perfect,” Natasha says, her eyes rolling so hard Bradley’s surprised they stay in her head.

                “It’ll be the last time. Promise…” Jake says, but he’s swaying and Bradley pushes him down into a chair at a table, leaves a hand on his shoulder where he just rubs gently.

                “I’ve heard that before,” Natasha says.

                “I mean it this time Nat,” Jake mumbles and Bradley glances at his. Probably another ten to fifteen before food gets here, and he needs to keep Jake awake enough to get food into him.

                “You think you can stay awake long enough to have a quick shower?” Bradley asks, crouching beside him.

                Natasha is frowning at them and Bradley looks to her, eyebrows raised. He’s going to have to tell everyone else in the team that he and Jake are soulmates, but he also thinks it can maybe wait a couple of days. At least until after he and Jake have had a proper conversation, which necessitates Jake being well-rested and fed. And the sweat from tonight’s show rinsed from his body. He can take care of his most basic needs at least. It’s not what he signed up for when he took on the job to act as bodyguard, but it’s definitely something he’d do for a close friend, and that’s something Jake Seresin will become to him, at a bare minimum.

                Jake is nodding and mumbling under his breath that he can manage a shower, and Bradley holds back the offer to help, or hold him up. He’s not one to rush into things when people aren’t his soulmate, he’s not about to do anything rash with the man who is. He does start the shower and get everything gathered for Jake to change into, tells him he’s leaving the door cracked and that he’s only giving him ten minutes before he sends Natasha in to get him out.

                “That seems a little over and above the job requirements,” Natasha says, expression shrewd and Bradley just shakes his head, refusing to say anything. If necessary he’ll send Rueben in, doesn’t want to encroach on Jake’s space and mind any more than he already is with their soulmate revelation.

                “He really needs a decent night’s sleep and a break.”

                “Well, we have a ten o’clock flight to Wellington tomorrow morning. He has his third to last show there. He’s got three radio segments to do, but they’re short. He can do something touristy and have a break in the afternoon.”

                “He’ll probably need to nap in the afternoon. He’s dead on his feet.”

                “He has the following day and night off, then the last two concerts in Auckland.”

                Bradley is better at hiding his eyeroll than Natasha is, sounds like a whole day off Is a luxury. Screw that. Not much he can do about it now though, he’s not been in charge of this itinerary at all. He might get input in future ones though.

                “Where is he spending his day off?”

                “Well, he originally wanted to go mountain biking and zip lining, but Javy vetoed it.”

                Bradley snorts, because he’s well aware of what Javy thinks of heights. The mountain biking is maybe a little risky while on tour, but he’ll look through it. With Lee and Rueben onboard he’s certain they can manage to figure something out. He hears the shower shut off and glances at his watch again. Eight minutes. There’s a knock and Bradley goes to go and open the door; Rueben there with a bag of items but also a covered tray and he can smell something warm and cheesy and with garlic and his own mouth is watering and he meets Rueben’s eyes.

                “Perks of being the star I guess…” Rueben says, grinning and Bradley gives him a what are you going to do look back, because this is their job right now. His job is to keep Jake safe and secure. It’s not to ensure he has fun on his day-off, but…

                “You’re good with zip-lining and mountain biking, right?”

                Rueben’s eyes light up, and that’s his answer right there.

                “Yeah man! Javy vetoed it…”

                “Javy’s not here anymore. I am. We’ll discuss and make plans tomorrow.”

                “Cool.”

                He takes the bag and tray, snorts in amusement at Rueben’s little salute and waits for the door to click closed and lock to engage before turning back to see Jake standing there, towel wrapped around his hips and he’s glad Jake has already said that he doesn’t think it’s a platonic bond, makes him feel a little less guilty about where his mind is going.

                “I left you clothes to change into,” Bradley states and Jake smirks at him, clearly still tired, expression soft but clearly unapologetic.

                “Did you? I must have missed them.”

                “Go and get dressed Jake.”

                “You spoil all my fun…”

                Bradley rolls his eyes but Jake goes back into the bathroom to get dressed. Natasha is looking thunderous though and Bradley is pretty sure she’s about to metaphorically put his balls in a vice.

                “Do not fuck the talent Bradshaw,” she hisses, stepping close and lowering her voice.

                “I don’t intend to,” Bradley states, just as quietly, keeping an eye on the bathroom door. He’s not lying either. He’s here for work, and yes, Jake is his soul mate, but once the tour is over and Jake is back on American soil his usual security team will take over and Bradley can just… do whatever he wants. Won’t have to listen to Natasha Trace for a start. He and Jake can hopefully get to know each other properly, slowly. As soulmates, not as security detail and the talent to be protected. Not that Bradley’s not going to start treating Jake right from now, but Trace doesn’t need to know that until after he’s spoken with Jake. Knows how he wants to have this play out.

                Jake comes back on of the bathroom again, this time wearing the loose sweatpants and t-shirt Bradley had pulled from his bag, not really knowing if it was what Jake might want or not, but figured he could change into something else easily enough if he was already dressed.

                “It smells good.”

                “Yeah it does. Come on Jake, sit down so you can eat something…” Bradley says, and Jake settles back at the table, looking a little more alert now that he’s had a shower.

                “Mr Seresin,” Trace corrects and Bradley rolls his eyes, although he also makes sure she can’t see him.

                “I told him to call me Jake, Nat. Would be a bit weird otherwise.”

                “He arrived two days ago.”

                “And he’s my soulmate. So you can stop worrying. I’m tired. Not deaf,” he says, and he’s cutting the potato dish and forking it into his mouth. Bradley blinks. Okay then. Telling her now when Jake can barely walk in a straight line is apparently the timing they’re going with.

                “Are… Is he serious? Are you two…?”

                “Yeah. Bit of a surprise when I found him. Wasn’t exactly expecting it.”

                “What are your words?”

                “This isn’t a PR story Nat…”

                “No, of course not. Just… I’m happy for you Jake. Truly.”

                “My words are Ugh, yeah, you found me.”

                “Oh… that… did you not talk to each other when I introduced you to each other?”

                “Nope,” they reply at the same time and Bradley shares a grin with Jake, because he’s glad they didn’t, because otherwise their words would be very different. What they have is unique and there isn’t any room for doubt.

                “So, we’ve found the person who asks you why you can’t do what we ask. And it’s his job to make sure you do. I hope you appreciate the poetry of that Jake.”

                “Yeah yeah, I will. When I’m not about to fall asleep in my food…”

                “Okay. I’ll leave you both to it. I guess what I said earlier doesn’t exactly apply anymore.”

                Bradley shakes his head.

                “He’s tired and hungry and we have our whole lives ahead of us.”

                The smile Trace gives him is soft and Bradley is pretty sure he might be blushing and when he glances over at Jake he sees a similar look on his face, like Bradley is being sweet somehow simply be ensuring Jake’s basic needs are met. It does make him wonder about the kind of people Jake’s been with before if the bar is legitimately that low. Trace leaves, closing the door behind her and when he looks back Jake is definitely struggling to keep his eyes open, and he pulls him to his feet and starts shuffling him gently toward the bed. He pulls the blankets back and Jake pretty much falls into it. He tucks the blankets in around him, effectively making a cocoon around him, but Jake wiggles, arm reaching out and hand making a grabby motion.

                “What? What do you need?”

                “Join me?” Jake asks, but his voice is already slurring with sleep and Bradley can’t believe how fond of him he already feels.

                “You’re dead on your feet. Go to sleep.”

                “Oh. Uh… do you, could you…”

                “Go to sleep Jake. I’m not going anywhere.”

                He dims all the lights and heads back to the living room part of the suite, realizes that he’s probably going to get used to this type of luxury with Jake as his soulmate. That will take some getting used to. He tidies up the dishes and takes it to the door, opens it to find Rueben standing there, waiting. With Jake having told Trace he’s going to tell Rueben.

                “Hey man, you can head back to your room. I’m going to stay with him.”

                The look Rueben gives him is incredulous.

                “What the fuck man? I just lost twenty bucks. Natasha said you were going to do that.”

                “She played you, and had insider knowledge. Turns out Jake Seresin and I are soul mates. I’ve got him for the rest of the night.”

                “Holy shit… that’s cool. And you’ve got him for the rest of your life, tonight is a drop in the bucket.”

                “Yeah, I guess it is. I’m going to try and make sure he gets a fun day off after the show in Wellington. Can you help with that?”

                “Hell yeah. Just because Javy wasn’t keen doesn’t mean I was going to pass it up. I was ditching you and Lee for the day, but I can totally bring everything back together.”

                “Great. Thanks man.”

…            …            …

                He wakes up slowly, which is unusual by itself, usually he has an alarm or Natasha is shaking him awake and telling him he has to get up, while pushing a breakfast smoothie into his hands. None of that is happening this morning, instead he’s firmly wrapped in blankets and there is an arm around him, he can feel now the weight of Bradley’s body beside him, but he’s clearly slept on top of the blankets because he’s a fucking gentleman or something. He wiggles and shifts, wants to see his face and the arm around him loosens.

                “Morning…”

                “Morning.”

                “You stayed.”

                “Said I would,” Bradley says, and his smile is slow, his eyes searching Jake’s face like he’s trying to take in every little detail. “You feel better for the sleep?”

                “Yeah, so much better.”

                “Mmm. Good. Next time maybe just go straight to bed rather than running off hmm?”

                “You going to stick around and make sure?”

                “If that’s what it takes…”

                “Yeah? Just going to travel with me from now on?”

                “Think it’ll make everyone’s lives easier if I do.”

                Jake grins, huffs out a quiet laugh, but he’s not wrong.

…            …            …

                “So, can I know where my words are?” Bradley asks, because he has to admit he’s curious. Jake is his soulmate after all.

                “You want to see them?”

                “I don’t know… you’re looking very eager suddenly. Wait. Are they on your dick?”

                Jake bursts into laughter, his smile wide and free and he’s so fucking gorgeous Bradley can’t help but watch and just soak it in.

                “Close. Not quite though. They’re right on the inside crease of my thigh, against my dick and balls.”

                “I’ll have to save having a look for later then.”

                “Yeah? You don’t want to have a look now?”

                “I’m good with waiting. Always find the payoff is better with a little anticipation.”

                “We’re soulmates, meant to be good anyway.”

                “So we get a double whammy.”

                “Ugh. Fine,” Jake mutters, mouth screwing up into a displeased pout and Bradley wants to kiss it so badly, but…

                “At least let me take you on a date first.”

                “But I don’t have free time until we get home…” Jake says, and he’s definitely whining now and Bradley knew he had a reputation for being a bit of a brat, but he can’t help but find it cute and endearing and yeah, it’s definitely shaping into something that is decidedly not platonic in nature.

                “How about you let me worry about that.”

                “Oh. Really?”

                “Yeah. Really.”

                Then he bullies Jake out of bed and into another shower, flicking a couple of messages to both Natasha and Rueben to let them know Jake is awake and moving. He needs to go and shower and change as well, and everything is back in the room he’s sharing with Rueben. Which Rueben will no doubt suddenly enjoy having to himself seeing as he doesn’t imagine either he nor Jake will want to spend much time apart.

                By the time Jake is out of the shower there is food waiting, Natasha is packing his things and Rueben has turned up with Bradley’s own things. He pushes Jake toward the food and steps toward the bathroom with his bag and sees the realization hit Jake that he’s not even leaving his room to go and have a shower. The relief and joy and yeah, there’s definitely something to be said for making your soulmate look like that.

…            …            …

                For all the fact that he’s at the tail end of a world tour, he’s exhausted and he has a bone-deep ache for the comfort of his own bed it feels weirdly domestic in the hotel room when Bradley comes out of the shower looking all put together in a clean clothes; navy pants and light-blue button down, the staid uniform that every single member of his security detail wear and he doesn’t like the reminder that right now Bradley is effectively one of his employees.

                “Just a few more days…” Bradley says, giving him a quick side-hug and Jake has to bite his lip, because clearly Bradley could tell what he was thinking, and he’s not used to being so easy to read. It’s going to take some getting used to.

                The flight to Wellington is short, but the landing is not something he ever wants to relive. The wind makes the plane tilt wildly from side to side and when Jake looks out the window he can’t even see a runway, which is a little alarming considering he can see the white tips of the waves of the ocean below them. Then he’s being rushed off to do some radio segments and the crew are leaving to set up and Bradley is just close-by, always within touching distance, although his eyes are constantly moving and assessing for threats. Rueben is doing the same, but he’s also on the phone a bit and then checking something with Bradley and he’s watching them through the glass of the studio window, distracted when the radio-host asks the next question.

                It’s why he fucks up.

…            …            …

                Natasha is furious.

                He didn’t ever think he’d have to protect Jake from his own people, but he stands there, arms folded and watches as she rants about controlling the narrative and making sure Jake’s private life remains private, because blurting it out on radio that he’d found his soul mate in New Zealand wasn’t keeping it very private. He doesn’t think Jake has any regrets other than making Natasha’s job more difficult, and maybe his job.

                A popstar doing a tour isn’t newsworthy. However said famous popstar finding their soulmate in some far-flung part of the world is definitely more newsworthy and Natasha’s phone hasn’t stopped ringing. However, for Bradley, New Zealand is considered low-threat, and Jake has three concerts left and no-one bar Natasha, Rueben, Lee and himself know exactly what Jake’s plans are for his time off. Even Jake doesn’t know, which is maybe just as well given his sudden propensity to simply blurt things out.

…            …            …

                Once she’s finished yelling at him she tells him to get some rest and he looks to Bradley helplessly. Lee is slapping Bradley on the arm and following Natasha out of the hotel room.

                “I’m sorry. I wasn’t… I didn’t…”

                “Jake. I don’t mind. You’re the one in the spotlight. You get to decide what you share.”

                “Except I didn’t mean to share it, I was just… watching you and not paying attention to the question and it was something about my favorite part of being here in New Zealand, or the highlight of the tour…”

                “And you were looking at me,” Bradley says, and he’s smirking.

                “Yeah well… you’re nice to look at. Shut up.”

                “Not too shabby yourself.”

                “Don’t’ feel very hot right now. Nap with me?”

                “Yeah. Just let me check in with Rueben, then yeah, nap sounds good.”

…            …            …

                He doesn’t know which version of Jake he likes the most. Soft just-awake Jake with creases on his face from the pillow case, slightly pissy Jake when Bradley won’t do anything more than hold his hand or place a chaste kiss to his cheek or forehead, or right now, watching Jake perform on stage, his energy and showmanship getting the audience completely buzzing and singing along. He puts absolutely everything into his show and it’s no wonder he crashes so abruptly afterwards, coming down from the high. He’s pretty sure he’ll be able to help with that, eventually. Once he’s off Jake’s books as an employee. God, he’s really going to have to rethink his whole career if he means to follow Jake rather than taking security details for different people around the world. He knows what he wants though, and he hasn’t even kissed Jake properly yet, but that is not because he doesn’t want to.

                Jakes goes out for two encores, meets with some of the fans who won a competition and carefully deflects questions about his soulmate. Says he’s protecting their privacy. Then he signs things for nearly an hour; Bradley just stands off to the side and keeps a close eye on everyone. Rueben and Lee are also there because it’s meant to be his night off. He takes the bottle of water Natasha hands him and makes Jake drink it, then hands him a protein bar, raises an eyebrow when Jake pulls a face but he dutifully opens it and crunches down on it while scowling at him. Bradley just smiles and brushes a kiss against his cheek while it’s still busy chewing.

                “Holy shit. I just realized our jobs are like, a hundred times easier now…” Rueben says and Bradley looks up to find him watching Jake and him.

                “Mine too,” Natasha agrees and Bradley smiles, pulls Jake into his arms despite how sweaty he is, hooks his chin over his shoulder.

                “Mmm. Well, we’ve still got a schedule to stick to.”

                “Wait, what? Are we not staying here tonight?”

                “Nope. Sorry. I know it’s fucking awful, but we’re taking a very quick flight and then all day tomorrow, tomorrow night and then a lazy sleep in… all in one place, okay?”

                “One place for two nights?”

                “Well, what’s left of tonight once we get there, and then tomorrow night. Come on.”

                He gets Jake to shower and change into soft comfortable clothes, assures him no one will see him travelling. It’s easy because Jake didn’t even unpack, and Bradley just has him tucked up beside him as they get driven to the airport. The flight between Wellington and Rotorua is only a little over an hour. There are cars waiting for them and Jake is drowsy and easy enough to direct. He’s adorably snuggly and his heart twists with warmth as he runs his fingers through his hair.

…            …            …

                He’s sitting at the table, dressed and ready for the day ahead, reading through further information Ice and Mav have sent him, none of which really impacts his actions when it comes to Jake’s safety, when Jake finally stirs and blinks sleepily at him.

                “Where am I?”

                “How specific do I need to be?” Bradley asks and Jake pulls a face.

                “I preferred yesterday when I woke up and you were still in bed with me.”

                “Well, I did spend the night in bed with you. I just got up early, did a workout, then showered and got dressed…”

                “I missed watching you work out…”

                Bradley laughs, walks over to the bed and settles down beside Jake and takes in the fluffy hair, squinty eyes as he clearly protests being awake.

                “You want to see me get hot and sweaty?”

                “Well, I’d prefer other activities to get your hot and sweaty, but until you get off your high horse… it’s fine by the way. I respect it. But I just… I’m going to go and have a shower.”

                “Okay. I’ll have breakfast and coffee waiting for you.”

                Jake makes no effort to hide his morning erection, straining against his sleeping pants, and if he thinks it’s going to embarrass him he’s sorely mistaken. He just watches and when Jake glances back he just raises an eyebrow and smirks, amused when Jake blushes and then closes the bathroom door with an emphatic thump.

…            …            …

                Jake re-enters the room, showered and looking much more put together and rested, although he’s still wearing the clothes he slept in. He settles in the chair opposite and promptly hooks his ankle around Bradley’s.

                “Okay, so you never answered. Where am I? Where are we?”

                “Rotorua.”

                “Okay. That sounds familiar but I have no idea why. Care to explain?”

                “Well, thought I’d take you on a date.”

                “Yeah? What have you got planned?”

                “Well, I have to say I do feel like I got a playbook and cheated a little, but it’s still happening…”

                Jake waves an impatient hand, clearly wanting him to get to the point.

                “Ziplining. Then an afternoon mountain biking…”

                “Wait. Seriously? Javy said no to that…”

         ��      “I’m not Javy.”

                “Oh my god. I want to kiss you…”

                “After our date.”

                “An all-day date?”

                “Yep. Still have Rueben and Lee with us though. Natasha is in Auckland having a pamper afternoon after she deals with the, uh, aftermath of yesterday.” Jake groans and Bradley laughs. “It’s fine, but there were some fans who had the super-pass and were standing on the stage and the media are convinced that one of them is your soulmate.”

                “Oh.”

                “Yeah. No one thinks it’s one of your security detail at least, who as far as most of the media knows has been the same for most of the tour. No one new you could possibly be trading first words with.”

                “Oh.”

                “And no press or media today or tomorrow. Two whole days where you can just… not think about it.”

                “Thank you.”

                “Thank Natasha. But I’ll be sure to pass it on… So I’m going to try and make today feel as normal and fun as I can. For all that we’re doing a whole bunch of touristy things.”

                “Yeah, a little touristy but also I’m just dying to do something different,” Jake says, and Bradley suddenly feels a lot more confident about the other things he’s tacked on to the day.

                “Well, it’s not quite an original date idea, seeing as you put it on your planned day off, but I thought that I could make it happen…”

                “Are you serious?”

                “Yep. Told you I wanted to treat you right.”

                The look Jake gives him feels charged with electricity, heavy, a little intense and a challenge all rolled into one. Bradley simply holds his gaze, reminds himself that he has four days of work, then the flight home and then he’s officially off the books. His restraint is being tested though and he really does want to kiss Jake.

                “Well, what are we waiting for?”

                “You to get dressed. For a start.”

…            …            …

                The four of them are fastened into harnesses and he resists the urge to check that they’ve got them all done correctly. Obviously if things go badly it’ll reflect on them, they’re probably being extra careful with Jake there. The safety briefing is quick but thorough, and soon he’s soaring through the treetops. He can hear Rueben whooping up ahead and grins, hears Jake’s shout of joy and then his own stomach swoops as he glides effortlessly from one platform to another. The forest is lush and green, rushing water below them is picturesque. The rush of wind, coupled with the views and the adrenaline it’s pretty exhilarating. He gets to the end and Rueban and Jake are both waiting and then Lee is joining them and he catches the look they share. Getting paid to do this kind of stuff is pretty amazing.

                Jake takes the obligatory photos with the staff, Rueben does the job of asking them to hold off mentioning anything on social media channels for at least twenty-four hours, ideally forty-eight. They happily agree when Jake mentions giving them a shoutout on his account when he gets to Auckland, that he’s currently avoiding social media. It doesn’t stop him taking plenty of photos though, and he notes Rueben and Lee are taking plenty of the two of them and he’ll have to thank them later. After getting them to send him the best ones.

                The café they’re heading to for lunch is apparently famous for their grilled cheese, winning national competitions, and Rueben had already done the research so he follows his lead. Rueben’s also the one driving them and Bradley’s not complaining that he gets to sit in the back of a car and get driven around, all while holding Jake’s hand as he looks through pictures. Fortunately it’s the middle of the week, which means it’s maybe a little quieter. Still people approach and ask for photos when they realize exactly who Jake is. Again they’re asked to hold fire on posting anything to social media but Bradley knows that with every photo taken the chance of their location being made known increases. Jake talks to them about enjoying his day off and he’s definitely a people pleaser, his fans are pretty understanding, wishing him well, although they’re also clearly looking around for who might be with them and also Jake’s soulmate.

                Then they’re on the way to mountain biking and he’s arranged hiring four bikes, Lee and Rueben taking the front. Rueben, with his experience, has arranged lifts back to the top each time, although both he and Lee give him shit for being lazy. It does make for a more pleasurable experience though, navigating their way through a network of trails through a forest. He’s never done mountain biking before, and he’s glad that he and Jake stick to the beginner trails, because even those have tree roots and drops that make him wonder if Rueben and Lee are going to come away with broken limbs. By the time they finish up his quads are burning and he’s regretting working out that morning, not realizing quite how active the day was going to be. At least they can all enjoy the next part.

…            …            …

                He catches Jake looking at him, eyebrow quirked and he just grins. Rueben pulls into a parking area and then hops out, making a call to let them know they’ve arrived. Then someone is there, then they’re all being escorted to a side door and ushered through softly-carpeted hallways and into luxurious bathrooms. Rueben and Lee disappear to their own, he was intent on them getting their own and letting him and Jake just have this together.

                “What are we doing here?”

                “Massage. Hopefully something relaxing. With mud.”

                “Um. What?”

                “I’ve been assured you’ll like it.”

                “Natasha.”

                “Natasha,” Bradley agrees with a grin, and he nods toward the shower cubicle.

                “Not going to shower with me?” Jake asks.

                “Nope… I’ve got my own cubicle.”

                “Well, that ruins some of my fun… wait. Is this like, a couples massage?

                “Yeah.”

                “Oh…”

                He never thought Jake Seresin would get embarrassed, not by being shown a little softness but it seems like he is, little streaks of pink appearing on the crest of his cheeks and Bradley doesn’t resist the urge to reach out and just squeeze his hand.

                “Go on. There should be a fluffy robe and sexy disposable underwear for after your washed off the dirt and sweat from the ride…”

                He’s also packed a change of clothes and some other essentials for later. Once they’re both showered and wrapped in matching robes Bradley presses the call button, an attendant appears to lead them to another room. It’s warm, dimly lit, calming and quiet music set the mood. He and Jake are led to tables side by side, where they can look at each other if they want to, although he notes Jake decides to instead shove his head in the hole and hide his face. That’s okay, Bradley can understand him feeling a little overwhelmed. He didn’t warn him about this part of the date and he wonders if he should maybe mention the next parts.

                Then they’re asked if they’re ready to start, then he’s being covered in warm… mud. It has to be mud. It feels odd, but the person massaging him though is good, the pressure of their hands soothing the aches in his tired muscles and he lets himself relax. He opens his eyes a little while later to find Jake watching him and he smiles softly, gets a slow sleepy smile in return which makes his heart kick in his chest. The sluice of warm water over his legs startles him and then he realizes they’re washing the mud off.

                They’re both rinsed clean and then towel dried, then the robes are there and they’re back in the bathrooms showering to get the last little remnants of mud off. Jake definitely looks more relaxed, and he somehow looks better, and he already looked good.

                “So, where are we going next?”

                “Private hot tub soak in the forest…”

                “Seriously?”

                “Yep. And then dinner and a walk…”

                “Wow. Thank you for this. All of it. Today.”

                “Want to give you every experience that you want,” Bradley says, because it’s the truth but also this wasn’t even difficult or original. He simply took what Jake wanted already and added to it. He thinks he’s going to find Jake surprisingly easy to please.

…            …            …

                “Here, got you some trunks.”

                “Thanks.”

                Then Bradley is turning away and he can see his words across Bradley’s left shoulder blade, writing messy and scrawling and definitely his and he lets out a little laugh, which has Bradley turning back to look at him.

                “What?”

                “Just… saw my words. Feel like I should apologize for my handwriting.”

                The smile Bradley gives him reminds him of the one they’d exchanged when they’d just been looking at each other while getting massages. He’s never felt this relaxed at the end of a tour before, and he knows, hopes, that it’s because Bradley is there. He’s sleeping rather than lying awake, feeling settled and grounded despite being miles from home.

                “Come on, get changed. We can cuddle and talk while sitting in the hot tub…”

                “Oh my god, that sounds amazing…”

                He changes quickly, tries not to focus on the fact that he’s very briefly naked and in the same room as Bradley. Then he’s following him out and it’s quiet, and he can see a few people but there a fair way away and it obvious that care has been taken to make the most of the surrounding forest to provide privacy. They walk down a boardwalk to a tub, and there is steam rising from the surface of the water, and also a nearby stream. Right. Geothermal waters. The steam gives an illusion of even more privacy, almost like it’s a different world and he drops his towel on the bench and steps over the edge of the tub and into the warm water, Bradley following hi,

                “Come here…” Bradley states, and then he finds himself nestled between Bradley’s thighs as his arms and legs wrap around Jake and he hooks his head over Jake’s shoulder and places a soft kiss to the side of his neck.

                “What if I want to cuddle you?”

                “Then we take turns. Just let me hold you for a bit.”

                “Yeah, okay with me,” Jake murmurs, settling relaxing further. He can see a jug of water with glasses off to the side, along with a platter of fruit and hums appreciatively. It feels like it’s been a while since his grilled cheese at lunch, but he doesn’t reach for anything, he has a question he wants to ask. “What did you think, about your words I mean?”

                “I thought I was either going to play a lot of games of hide and seek, or maybe be a member of a search and rescue team. Although, I did think the person would be more appreciative of being found if I was in search and rescue. What about you? Are your words why you have a reputation for trying to escape from your security detail?”

                “Not intentionally,” Jake muses. Thinks about it. “Maybe? I don’t know. I always finish a show and need some time to…”

                “Decompress?”

                “Yeah,” Jake agrees quietly, and he’s grateful that Bradley apparently understand that part of him already. Not the high-energy performer that his public image hangs from, but the quieter edges of him that ache for the comforts of home after. That Bradley might become that home now… it’s equal parts terrifying as it is exciting.

                “Just… can I have a kiss?” Jake asks, turning in the water to face him. He knows Bradley has his line drawn in the invisible sand, and he’s glad in the moment that it’s there, the knowledge that it can’t, or won’t, go any further.

                “Yeah. Of course you can have a kiss now…”

                Bradley has been affectionate and pressed so many kisses to his forehead and cheek, let his hands rest where they fall on Jake’s body when standing side-by-side, or guiding him through crowds. It’s been casual and easy, comforting in how easy Bradley had just offered the new level of affection.

                Bradley’s hand cups Jake’s face and it’s soft, slow and exploratory. He lets the water buoy him and he straddles Bradley’s thighs, loops his arms around his neck and lets himself press into it, firmer but not hard, just wanting to convey that he’s here, with Bradley and not thinking about anything else in the moment other than them together. He can feel Bradley’s hands on his hips beneath the water, a steady presence just holding him and he can’t get his head around feeling so settled and grounded while also feeling like he’s flying.

…            …            …

                Bradley meets up with Rueben and Lee, goes over the last few plans for the rest of the day. They’re both still on the high that they’re both getting paid to effectively have the best day off and if he can have them form part of Jake’s permanent security detail he’s going to do it. Jake comes out of the bathroom and grins at them all, but it’s his hand he reaches for, linking their fingers together and he doesn’t even bother to try hiding his grin.

                “What next? I’m starting to get a little hungry, so I hope you’re going to say food…”

                “Yeah, it’s food. Come on.”

                He lets Rueben and Lee take care of everything, the driving and security checks. His own eyes don’t stop moving, not until they all pile into one gondola and then slowly travel up the hillside, to where the restaurant sits. They’ll have the best view of the scenery and while Rueben and Lee are there, they’re also not sitting at the same table as them, a small private dining area set off just to the side. He has no idea what he eats, not even sure he does considering he doesn’t seem to have let go of Jake’s hand. Then they’re watching the sky turn dark, shots of pink and gold filling the sky over the lake and okay, it’s a pretty fucking perfect first date and it’s not over yet.

                They take the luge down the hill, racing each other and Jake laughs and it is unplanned and Bradley is very fucking grateful that none of them break anything, even if Rueben and Lee both look like they want to do it again if Jake suggests it. He doesn’t give him a chance to, takes Jake’s hand in his again and tugs him towards the car.

                “Come on… one more thing to do.”

                “What?”

                “Nighttime canopy walk through the redwood trees…”

                The look on Jake’s face is gratifying, the squeeze of his hand and grin that clearly indicates he’s more than happy that their date is not yet over. They’re not very far away, but it’s dark by the time they get out of the car. There’s another short safety briefing, and Jake smiles, signs an autograph but then they’re left alone to make their way through the canopy, suspended on purpose built walkways. There are lanterns casting shadows and it feels like the rest of the world has just slipped away from existence, leaving just the two of them.

                They need their hands free for holding on a lot of the time, some of the passages too narrow to consider holding hands anyway, but he stops them at every platform, wraps his arms around Jake and lets himself drop gentle kisses on Jake’s face, his lips, his neck. As the walk progresses the kisses become a bit longer, a little more heated, and he’s glad that while it might feel like they’re alone, there are people waiting for them. He has his resolve and ethics and he’s going to trying his level fucking best to stick to them. Kissing Jake is his compromise.

                The compromise is unfairly tested when they get back to the ground, Jake smiling and grateful, but his fingers gripping Bradley’s hand so hard it’s almost painful as they thank the operators for letting them book the entire evening. Then he’s being pulled along a little path, the light down here even less than it had been up in the canopy. Then he’s being pushed up against one of the trees and Jake is kissing him fiercely, hard and bruising, breath gasping out of him and he’s pressing his groin against Bradley’s thigh and grinding –

                “Jesus Jake…” Bradley groans, letting himself just enjoy it for a moment, he’ll stop. Soon.

                “God, can we… please… I… fuck. Sorry…”

                “Just… kind of like the idea of our first time being in your bed. Or my bed.”

                Jake groans, but it’s not one of pleasure, more of frustration and Bradley forces himself to stop, to just rest his forehead against Jake’s shoulder and breathe, and Jake mirrors the posture, his forehead on Bradley’s shoulder.

                “Oh my god, you’re a romantic.”

                “Yeah. Little bit.”

                “Ugh. Why me…”

                “You deserve to be romanced… also I don’t want us to have to hurry or have to be somewhere. I’ve waited my whole life for this, what’s a couple more days?”

                “You can’t be sweet and look so fucking hot. My brain can’t cope…”

                “You want me to apologize?”

                “No. Never. Just… give me a minute.”

                “Of course.”

…            …            …

                “Oh god, what is that smell?”

                “Sulfur. Active volcanic zone remember?”

                “And the whole town smells like this?”

                “Apparently you get used to it. We’ve been on the outskirts of the town mostly, so it’s… not as intense.”

                “Our first date, I’ll remember it every time I get a whiff of sulfur or rotten eggs… Great.”

                “Hopefully other things make you remember it too. Now come on, we have a flight to Auckland pretty early tomorrow.”

                “How early is early?”

                “Nine.”

                “Oh… that’s actually humane.”

                “It’s only a forty-five minute flight, so yeah, no early morning wake up.”

                Like the previous two nights they fall asleep together.

…            …            …

                The next three days and final two concerts whip past in a blur; apart from sleeping with Jake tucked carefully in his arms at night he’s the epitome of a professional, although both Rueben and Lee keep smirking at him. He subtly gives them the finger when he catches them, but he’s counting down the hours to hand-over now. Jake has had multiple interviews, fielded endless questions about his soul bond which he’s deflected by simply saying that his soul mate deserves their privacy. There has been no hint of gender or nationality, and Bradley is pretty sure Jake is treating it like a challenge now, to keep it a secret after letting it slip in the first place. He doesn’t mind either way, but does appreciate not being under the same scrutiny as Jake himself.

                Then they’re finally on their final flight home, they’ve spent a lot of time conversing, mostly through messages on their phones, exchanging dirtier and dirtier information and it’s been good, having such a serious conversation almost silently. If their phones ever get hacked then they’ll be in trouble but they’ve managed to get through some pretty meaningful and important discussions with minimal awkwardness, which has been an unintended benefit. Although he’s well aware it’s once again crossing over the now incredibly blurred line in the sand regarding his professionalism. However he’s pretty sure Jake isn’t going to allow time for any type of actual conversation before they end up having sex, so again this is something he’s prepared to compromise on.

                “You two are weird… Tour has finally finished. We’re on our way home. You finally have some privacy and you’re both sitting there, not even touching, staring intently at your phones.”

                “We’re communicating plenty,” Jake says darkly, shifting in his seat and Bradley grins, looks at the ceiling of the plane to avoid looking at Jake. He’d just shared that he really likes eating guys out, but that some guys don’t like his moustache because it makes all the sensitive skin just that little bit more sensitive. He’s pretty sure Jake is sporting a semi in his sweats, hiding it with a blanket draped over and he glances to him. Sure enough, Jake is glaring at him and Bradley raises an eyebrow, knows Jake can’t do anything about it right now.

                “Bathroom,” Jake spits out, and then he’s gone toward the back of the plane.

                Bradley feels smug until he receives the photo, Jake’s hand around his cock and he bites back a groan.

                Yeah, he guesses he deserved that.

…            …            …

                “Fucking finally… come on.”

                “You sure you don’t want to sleep?”

                “I’ve waited fucking long enough.”

                “Come on then, shower first… get clean hmm?”

                “No. Take too long. Just… something else first?”

                “You trying to give orders now?" Bradley teases, thrusting against him hard enough to almost knock him off his feet and Jake makes grabby hands, his fingers curling in the fabric of Bradley’s shirt and holding tight as they kiss and grind against each other.

                “Yes, I am if you don't want me to come in my fucking pants," Jake gasps and Bradley makes a considering look, because the idea of it, the accompanying visual is definitely something that turns him on. Stepping back, gentler and more careful than before, he slips a couple of fingers into the waistband of Jake’s sweats and pushes them down, leaving the underwear for now, because he’s going to see his words on Jake soon, up close and very personal.

                "Tempting. Another time," he promises, and then he drops to his knees and the way Jake’s eyes go darker is gratifying.

…            …            …

                Jake has to squeeze the base of his cock through the fabric of his underwear to keep from losing it right there. God, this is going to be over alarmingly quickly but it’s okay, he reminds himself, Bradley won’t care or judge and it’s going to be one of many times together, but he can’t help the small part of him that wants it to be perfect. God, maybe rutting against the thick expanse of Bradley’s thigh might have been perfect, seeing him on his knees right now definitely is, but maybe anything would be perfect right now and he needs to stop worrying about any of it and all of it. But he does want his hands on him and he holds a hand out, makes Bradley stand up and then leads him to his bedroom.

                “You did say you wanted to have a bed…”

                “I say a lot of things…”

                He watches as Bradley kicks his pants off. It's not the first time Jake's seen him naked, but it’s the first time he’s allowed to look. To touch. He's gorgeous all over, thick and strong in a way that makes him look bigger than he really is. When he reaches for the waistband of his boxers, Jake does the same, kicks his underwear off and then Bradley is there, fully naked, touching him everywhere, pressing their bodies together. Their cocks are bobbing around ridiculously but then Bradley’s hand is there, just catching and holding them both, more to guide than anything else and Jake groans.

                “Bed, come on. Want you on me…”

                It’s something he’d mentioned in their silent text exchange, that he likes feeling blanketed and pinned down, held and grounded. Bradley is walking him backwards toward his own bed and he lets himself fall back and then shuffles up, his eyes not leaving Bradley’s. Then he lets his legs fall open, runs a finger along the crease of his thigh and Bradley’s eyes track the movement.

                “Oh…” Bradley murmurs under his breath. Then he’s licking over the words and Jake almost jackknifes back up at the sudden ticklish sensation. “Mmm… stay where I tell you to huh?”

                “Asshole.”

                “Yep. Proud of it too.”

                Then Bradley shifts and moves Jake, so he can staddle Jake’s thighs and his hands are free to roam and touch everywhere; suddenly Jake can do the touching he so badly wanted to do and he grips Bradley’s thighs, and, God, Jake feels like he’s waited forever for this. Then Bradley shifts again and he’s close enough that Jake can get his hand on his cock, although Bradley is leaning down to kiss him. He thumbs the thick vein under the head of Bradley's cock, smiles when he feels Bradley's mouth open against his neck, feels smug. Tightening his grip and stroking in earnest, Jake angles his head down to watch his hand working between them. Bradley has a nice cock, thick and shiny pink where the head pokes through Jake's fist. Jake knows he's an asshole for feeling relieved about it. It's not like he would want Bradley any less if he had a tiny dick or anything, but it's nice not to have to worry about it.

                "Thought about this," Jake tells him. He licks his palm messily before reaching down to stroke him again, grip tight and slick with saliva, likes the fact that all he can see and feel is Bradley.

                It's been a while since Jake last did this for someone, and even then it was mostly just a step to get to the good stuff. Touching Bradley is different; Jake wants to know what he likes. He strokes faster and slower, tighter and looser, shorter and with a twist of his wrist at the end just to see what reactions he can get. Playing with Bradley's foreskin makes him hiss through his teeth, so Jake quickly gives up on that in favor of the long, tight strokes that seem to illicit the best response. He is rewarded with shifting hips and low, throaty groans.

                "God, Jake," Bradley murmurs drunkenly, tipping his head forward to mouth at Jake's clavicle.

                The way Bradley gasps out his name makes Jake's heart feel too big for his chest. Clamping his eyes shot Jake works his hand steadily, focusses on the little hitching sounds that Bradley makes on each upstroke. Everything is slick with spit and precum now, Jake's own cock leaking between them steadily. He's so hard it hurts, but it's easy enough to ignore when he feels Bradley's muscles twitch and shudder above him. Then Bradley shifts again, grabbing for Jake’s wrists, pinning him to the mattress. Wiggling a little, Jake's heart pounds when Bradley doesn't budge. Jake stares up at him, eyes wide.

                "I'm so into this. So into you," he tells Bradley in amazement.

                Bradley laughs, eyes crinkling fondly. He's lovely, he's so lovely, it drives Jake completely crazy.

                "You’re much too coherent," Bradley states, pushing Jake's wrists up above his head and stretching him out beneath him with a heated gaze. All the fantasies in the world have nothing on the way Bradley looks perched above him, eyes dark as he transfers both of Jake's wrists into one hand and runs the other down his chest. He touches him everywhere but where he wants, dragging a palm down Jake's throat, over his pecs and stomach then back up. Jake pushes his heels into the mattress as thick fingers rub against his left nipple, sending a shiver of electricity to his crotch.

                "Bradley," he gasps. "I don't need... I don't need much. Please."

                "Mmm," Bradley agrees, dropping his head to suck the abused nipple into his mouth. Squirming against his hold, Jake whines weakly. It's too much.

                He wants more. Needs more.

                "You're so easy for me," Bradley murmurs wonderingly, stubble scratching against sensitive skin as he talks. It's been long enough since Jake fucked a guy that he can't remember if stubble-burn always turned him on or if it's a Bradley-specific thing, the moustache is softer than he thought it would be though.

                "Yeah. Just for you," Jake breathes, because it's pretty obvious what buttons to push with Bradley. As he suspected would happen the illusion of control breaks, and Bradley shudders, pushing up to kiss him. Sucking messily at Bradley's tongue, Jake wants to pull his legs up to wrap around his hips, wants to be able to chase more friction against his body. His cock feels heavy and painfully hard between his legs, and Bradley is still hovering above him, infuriatingly out of reach.

                "Please, come on," Jake insists between kisses. "I need you. Come on, Bradley."

                Bradley makes a wounded noise into his mouth, hand fumbling as it slides between their bodies to finally wrap around Jake's cock. It's embarrassing how close he is already. Little choking sounds escape his mouth with every shift of Bradley's hand over the swollen head of his cock, the sensation almost too much. Thrusting messily into the circle of Bradley's fist, Jake's too far gone to care how desperate he might look.

                He wants to drag this out, wants Bradley touching him forever, but he's been ready to go off since Bradley kissed him three days ago. The hot, tight slide of Bradley's hand over him now is too much. His balls tighten and his entire body is jerking like his entire body is crying out for touch despite having it nearly everywhere. Bradley releases his wrists suddenly, collapsing forward onto his forearm and jerking Jake hard and fast.

                "I've got you, I've got you," he murmurs over and over into Jake's neck. The familiar rumble of his voice tips Jake over the edge, muscles seizing. Pleasure crashes into him as he jerks and spills, hot and messy all over Bradley's hand and his own stomach. Bradley whispers nonsense as he wrings him out, yeah baby, that's it, so fucking gorgeous, so good. Jake whines weakly as he spasms through the aftershocks, too blissed-out to care how dumb he might sound or look.

                He slumps and goes boneless, Bradley kissing messily along his neck and jaw. Still panting, Jake strokes clumsily up and down his back, trying to regain his wits. Bradley's cock is pressing insistently against his hip, so Jake slides his hands down to grab the flesh of his ass, pulling him forward. Moaning gratefully, Bradley thrusts through the mess Jake made of his own stomach, cock head smearing wetness up his abs.

                "Yeah," Jake breathes, encourages. He feels sluggish and come-stupid, but he wants to make Bradley feel good. He can’t wait to find all the ways  to make Bradley feel good, once he has a functioning brain again and he’s regained his hand-eye coordination.

                Turning his head, he nudges Bradley's mouth up for a kiss, simultaneously digging his nails into his ass. Bradley's hips stutter then thrust hard against Jake's belly, hand sliding down to grip his hip. Even half out of his mind, he's bossy, angling Jake's hips how he wants them and rutting against him. Jake leans back, reveling in how wrecked Bradley looks as he jerks harder and harder against him, mouth wet and open and eyes lidded.

                "Come on. Come on, baby," Jake whispers, rolling his hips with each thrust. He's so oversensitive it almost hurts, but he doesn't care. Bradley looks close. Licking his lips, Jake kisses him on the corner of his slack mouth. "I want it. I want it, Bradley. Come for me. Want everyone to know I'm yours. Come on."

                It's mostly nonsensical, but it seems to do the trick. Bradley scrambles for leverage, shoves Jake up the bed with two hard thrusts before going rigid and coming in long, groaning bursts over his chest and stomach. Jake gentles him through it, stroking his hair and shoulders and murmuring encouragingly as he shudders, trying to memorize the way Bradley's face looks all screwed-up and euphoric. Jake did that, made him look that way, and he knows he doesn’t need to commit it to memory because they’ll be doing this again, but he still wants to remember it. Bradley collapses to the side with an arm slung over Jake's stomach. Honestly, Jake would have kind of liked being squashed, but he appreciates that Bradley is as much of a gentleman about this as he is about everything else. It's part of his charm.

                "You good?" he asks.

                Bradley grunts in response, obviously still out of it, and Jake smiles. It's disgusting, really, how gone he is on him. Shifting closer, Jake turns his head towards Bradley and closes his eyes, happy to just lie there and enjoy the moment. It's almost too good to take in all at once and he suspects that’s partially due to the exhaustion catching up with him, feels himself drift in and out of consciousness. He feels the mattress shift and Bradley's arm slide carefully off his waist. There is a split second when Jake thinks maybe he's just rolling over, but then Bradley's weight is gone and he's alone in bed. He's not sure how much time passes before something warm and wet swipes over his stomach, startling him back into consciousness and he grumbles quietly about almost being asleep.

                "It’s this or a shower…" Bradley whispers, and he’s definitely looking smug when Jake blinks up at him. He's leaning over the bed, washcloth in hand, still completely naked, hair a complete disaster.

                "Shower… " Jake mumbles, because he’s pretty sure it won’t be alone. Not anymore, not when Bradley is around.

                “You think you can stand?” Bradley asks, and Jake immediately feels a surge of needing to prove that he can. Although…

                “You can make sure I don’t fall over.”

                And he gets Bradley’s arms around him, pulling him up which is what he was angling for.

…            …            …

                Bradley knows Jake has a stubborn streak, and a level of self-discipline that keeps him going despite how exhausted he might get. But he doesn’t have to draw on those reserves right now, he’d hoped Jake would fall asleep and they could revisit everything in the morning and yet here he is in the shower, a naked half-asleep Jake Seresin insisting he’s good for another round. Bradley would like to differ, but that seems to make Jake do nothing but dig his heels in so he’s going along with it for now.

                It’s nice, quietly soft, having just come he’s not really angling for anything more, just lets himself enjoy the warm and slippery feel of Jake against him, his tongue and lips and little hums of happy pleasure. Then he feels Jake’s hand grab his ass, fingers brushing over his hole and he grins into the curve of Jake’s shoulder, mirrors the exact same thing and is surprised when Jake pushes back against his fingers.

                “It’s not a race Jake. We don’t have to do everything in one night…”

                Jake whines against his neck, hips jerking.

                “I want to though…”

                “We have time.”

                He does try to make them they take their time, part of him wonders if they should maybe be waiting a bit longer, Jake’s been on tour for six months, was dead on his feet less than a week ago and was almost asleep no less than fifteen minutes ago. As much as he looks and acts like he’s bounced back Bradley is fairly certain that nothing but a couple of weeks rest is going to truly bring him back to his equilibrium. Despite all that Jake is going through the motions of washing his hair and body, and Bradley is doing his best to ensure he stays upright and doesn’t fall asleep and brain himself.

                “I’m just… don’t be too long… want you to fuck me,” Jake says and Bradley can’t help but raise a disbelieving eyebrow as Jake steps out of the shower and starts drying himself off.

                “I’ll be right there…” Bradley says, amused beyond belief because he’s not even hard, glad that Jake has such faith in his refractory period. He takes his time, pays attention to getting clean himself and lets himself think about the fact that there will definitely be more sex with Jake in the very near future. He dries himself off and walks back into the bedroom and has to bite back a laugh, because Jake has passed out cold, but also clearly had some serious intent. He’s gotten the lube out, his fingers are shiny with it, as is his ass crack and Bradley picks up the tube and places it on the bedside table safely out of the way, uses his damp towel to wipe Jake’s fingers and presses a soft kiss to his bicep.

                “Sleep well Jake.”

…            …            …

                He wakes up the next morning and he doesn’t think Jake has moved, still completely sacked out but still the most gorgeous sight Bradley has ever woken up to. And he’s certain he’s going to think that every morning he wakes up with Jake beside him. As he watches Jake shifts a little, just a little grind of his hips and Bradley bites his lip, an idea forming as he reaches for the lube and a couple of condoms. Then he slides a finger into himself, is generous with the lube although a little impatient with the actual stretching, his cock getting harder the more he thinks about Jake fucking him. He’d been very thorough last night, not really expecting Jake to be able to stay awake but still not cutting any corners. It does mean that he doesn’t have to take his time this morning, and he knows from his experience the last few mornings that Jake is going to wake fairly soon and he’d like to wake him up. No alarm needed.

                Wiping his fingers on the same towel he used on Jake’s fingers last night, he drops it, then leans forward to kiss Jake's throat, then the underside of his jaw before moving up to run his nose against the side of Jake's stubbly cheek. Bradley's lips graze the corner of Jake's mouth as he smiles again. Up close his dimples are deeper and his eyelashes are darker, and he’s so gorgeous and he’s all Bradley’s. Jake makes little sleepy grunts, his body stretching out to press against Bradley as he wakes and then he’s kissing him properly, shifting to press his hard cock against Bradley’s own.

                “Morning.”

                “Is it morning?”

                “Sure is…” Bradley says, rolling his hips to provide friction for them both, feels Jake shift in response to add to it. Maybe they could just rut against each other like this. Jake is groaning, muttering something which he can’t make sense of, too quiet.

                “How do you like it? Want to fuck me?” Bradley asks, which isn’t actually what he wanted to ask, but he’s getting a little distracted by how Jake’s body feels and he’s not actually fussy but he had an idea and he’d like to at least try it…

                “Yes yes yes.”

                “Or can I fuck you?”

                “I don’t fucking care right now… Just… did I fall asleep last night?”

                “Yep. While I was finishing up in the shower.”

                “God, I am so sorry. That is not sexy.”

                “Oh, it was okay… came in to find you passed out cold and had started fingering yourself without even waiting for me to watch…”

                “Oh my god, it gets worse…”

                “Going to let me open you up? Pretty sure you won’t fall asleep this time.”

                Jake doesn’t answer with words, just shifts and stretches, opens the drawer and then looks confused and Bradley holds out the lube.

                “Looking for this?”

                Jake glares at him, but it’s got no heat and Bradley feels his mouth go dry as Jake shifts again, legs spreading and shoving a pillow under his hips, challenge broadcasted in every movement and Bradley feels smug, thinking about his idea with what he knows Jake has said he likes in bed and what he knows about his own body. He was going to let Jake in on his idea, but he decides not to, his little sulking attitude should not be this hot.

                Jake’s ass crack is tacky with the lube he used the night before and Bradley ignores the sensation, just coats his finger and goes to town, his eyes not leaving Jake’s face, watching for discomfit although the expression on Jake’s face is almost belligerent. Bradley can’t help but lean forward and kiss him, catches each of Jake’s little gasps with his own mouth and works him open slowly and steadily.

                “I’m good, come on…”

                He takes him at his word, presses a kiss to each of Jake’s knees, wipes his hands and then reaches for the condom. Lets Jake take it from him and open it up, rolls it down his cock and then falls back again and shoves his ass in Bradley’s direction.

                “Subtle.”

                “Come on…” Jake snaps and then Bradley’s pushing inside, one long slow push and Jake moans, low and deep and Bradley shakes a little.

                “Fuck,” Bradley says against the side of Jake’s neck, breath humid and hot. He keeps his hips carefully still, waiting for Jake to give him the go-ahead.

                “Yeah, yeah… come on.”

                Bradley tightens his hand on Jake’s hip and then he’s pulling out, letting Jake feel every inch of him, before thrusting back in. He takes it nice and slow, knows he has time. Jake is shifting, trying to get closer, maybe wanting it harder. Regardless, he’s not using any words and Bradley just lets his hips roll in and out, picking up the pace in response to Jake’s breathing picking up speed. His own breath is coming in pants and he can feel his orgasm building, bends down to kiss Jake.

                “I’m not, I… I said…”

                “Shh… It’s okay. I got you. Think we’re made for each other…”

                “You feel good.”

                “Mmm. So do you,” Bradley says, his hips snapping now, thinks about Jake admitting via a message sent not even two days ago that he hardly ever comes when he’s getting fucked. It’s fine, Bradley’s not about to try and prove himself, but it does mean he can just chase his own orgasm and come as quickly as possible. Then he can focus on Jake and his pleasure. He jerks as he comes, his teeth pressing into Jake’s neck and god he hopes that doesn’t mark, that would be a little embarrassing. He gives himself twenty seconds, his thrusts slowing and he finally pulls out all the way, kisses away the expression on Jake’s face as he reaches for another condom and the lube.

                “Wait, what… what are you doing?” Jake asks, and his eyes are glazed and intense and Bradley feels a little shaky but he can do this, rolls the condom down Jake’s cock, strokes him a couple of times with lube before he shifts up so he’s straddling Jake’s stomach.

                “Told you I like being fucked after I’ve come.”

                “Oh Jesus fucking Christ…” Jake breathes as Bradley sinks down on his cock, his thighs trembling but then Jake’s hips are raising up to meet him and he lets gravity take over, groan into the shivery-shake of over stimulation that he likes. Sometimes he can come again, wonders if this’ll be one of those times.

                “Fucking hell… you…” Jake starts and Bradley has no idea what his internal thought process is right now but he’s looking up at Bradley like he’s everything and he feels pretty satisfied with himself.

                “Yeah. Fuck,” Bradley says, rotating his hips in a tight circle

                “Bradley…”

                “Come on. Want you to fuck me now…”

                “What?”

                “Want you to fucking rail me. Just… come on.”

                “Are you sure?”

                “Jake. Trust me. I’m more than sure.”

                Despite Bradley’s hasty encouragement and slight disgruntlement that Jake won’t just take his word for it, part of him is glad that Jake cares enough, although he’ll soon learn that when Bradley tells him he’s ready to be fucked, he really does mean it. Then Jake is pushing him off, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing as he moves Bradley around to where he wants him and Bradley realizes that those messages went both ways. Jake is remembering his own admissions about favorite position and he groans, lets his shoulders sink down to bear his weight, his ass in the air and Jake’s hands on his cheeks, pulling them apart and then he’s pressing his cock in and yeah, yeah, it’s going to be one of those times.

                Jake sets a brutal pace and Bradley reassess his consideration that Jake maybe didn’t take him at his word. His entire body feels electrified, nerves twanging and he manages to get a hand on himself, hears Jake’s startled intake of breath, his hips somehow picking up the pace and Bradley grunts, pushes back as he works his hand on his cock. It never really went soft, is feeling overstimulated but he knows from experience that pushing through that will make the second orgasm even better, will have an even sharper edge of relief when he comes.

                Jake knows this, his fingers digging into his hips as he fucks into him, their combined pants the only noises in the room and then he feels Jake’s hands slip a little, their bodies getting slicker with sweat and god it’s so good. This is likely it for them, not just here in Jake’s bed, but beds all over the world, but finding and making a home with each other. Jake had been right when he’d accused him of being a romantic, because he’ll follow Jake anywhere. Right now that’s leading him to a second orgasm within thirty minutes and he shudders and shakes, eyes clenched shut against the burst of white pain-pleasure from working his cock so roughly. Jake makes an unintelligible sound and Bradley is certain he’s also coming but he’s too lost in the haze of his own pleasure again and fuck, his idea to make it all about Jake completely backfired.

                He slumps to the side, gasps at the sudden loss of Jake’s cock inside him, his body feeling even more jittery as he comes down. Then Jake is there, pressing kisses over his back and shoulders, using the towel to wipe up the worst of the mess and he really doesn’t care much about anything right now, just wants to be held and feel the warmth of Jake close to him; which he’s definitely getting, being tugged over to the unused and drier half of the bed, encouraged to lie on top of Jake like a human blanket. He can do that.

                “So glad you found me…” Jake says, his voice quiet.

                “So am I.”

…            …            …

     Jake Seresin married his long-term boyfriend, Bradley Bradshaw, this weekend, in an exclusive and highly secretive event. No word on whether Seresin’s soulmate was there or not, but we can probably assume that it is a platonic bond if he is marrying someone else. Bradshaw was very briefly a member of Seresin’s security detail before they -

                Kaysie looks at the words and starts digging, going back through Instagram accounts and the social medias of different places. There’s plenty of photos of Seresin and Bradshaw, their day in Rotorua incredibly well documented considering it was ostensibly a day-off for Jake rather than a PR exercise. The day after he’d unintentionally declared to the world that he’d found his soulmate, but a lot of the business posts and other posts are a day or two after the actual scheduled day off. Which was a few days after Bradley Bradshaw had joined the security detail. Her eyes narrow. That’s a hell of a coincidence, but there’s zero actual proof either way.

                She looks at the photos again, sees the joy and soft smiles and hopes that whether they’re soulmates or not, that they’re happy together and remain that way.

THE END

[nocturnowlette]

What's your take on/advice to subjects with aphantasia? I'm very new to hypnosis and find myself struggling a lot with visualizations, given that isn't really something I'm capable of.

Aphantasia does not make hypnosis even the slightest bit less effective, or the difference is minimal at best.

A very important part of perception that you and many others would benefit from knowing is the effects of expectations and the systems we create for ourselves.

This most commonly happens with folks that struggle with productivity, like critters with ADHD. I am one such being.

I would, in the past, constantly try to create systems of incentives for myself that made things worse because what I was ultimately doing was creating a win state that didn't feel good and an arbitrarily set loss state that made me feel terrible.

Example:

If I work for 20 minutes and then take a break for 10, it didn't feel good to work for those 20 minutes successfully, but if I wasn't able to go back to working immediately after the 10 minute break, I failed and my shame response would compound my inability to work and would shut down my ability to do anything for hours.

What you are doing as a subject in this case is taking the concept of aphantasia and the word "visualization" and creating the idea that you need to actually visualize in order for it to work. You should treat it like you would descriptive writing in a novel. You don't need to visualize a setting in a novel to understand it.

If I say there's a neon sign hanging above a bar at night with the name "The Bottlecap", you are able to understand and conceptualize it without seeing it.

The point of visualizations is to compartmentalize something in your brain. We do this all the time and without visuals whatsoever, even giving a name to something like "stress" compartmentalizes it from other feelings. Visualizations in hypnosis link and isolate specific parts of the brain so they can be "narratively" affected and affect your perception as a result.

If I tell you to focus on these words that you've been reading for a long time already, and focus, and focus more, and then to use that focus to conceptualize a bubble representing your thoughts, then your brain has done that no matter the visualization.

You can conceptualize that it is slightly purple-ish, that it is translucent, and even without seeing it, each dedication to detail makes you focus on that concept more. This bubble represents your thoughts. And so, if I were to gently bring a claw up to its surface, I could easily make it...

Pop!

...that's the idea anyhow. Try to be aware of the systems you create in your head, and to realize when one is more harmful than helpful.

Have a nice day.

[stpansy]

what’s up with Patrick’s fashion evolution this past year? And his aura?? It seems like he’s finally completely comfortable with himself.

smth i have always loved about patrick is that he goes through these periods where he finds a style that he likes/is comfortable in and sticks with it for anywhere from months to years. neurodivergent king i see you. and real ones know that patrick has been slaying since pre-hiatus--thinking so fondly of his funky sneakers + all over patterned hoodies era circa ioh/folie--but i agree that he looks particularly good in the clothes he gravitates towards right now! i adore when he's more visibly punk. patrick stump battle jacket debut 2024 you changed my life forever fr

and yeah i know what you mean about his aura and how he just seems so confident and self-assured these days. it's definitely been building since srar era but something about tour/2ourdust... he came back from their little break with such a palpably strong belief in the art they were making, and then that just skyrocketed over the past year as the audience reception to their entire catalogue was overwhelmingly positive, which we know because he and pete have both talked about it. but i think with patrick specifically, even beyond his obvious confidence/pride in fob itself, he has level of confidence in himself as a performer that eclipses what we've seen from him before. he just seems SO happy. it's so lovely to witness and he couldn't deserve it more! even like. just thinking back to his very affected soul punk persona where he was going through the motions but clearly miserable compared to how he was strutting and growling and beaming at riot fest the other night. having fun on stage (and serving unfathomable levels of cunt while doing it) seems to come so much easier to him now because he's brimming with joy over what he's doing. and so so so much love for who he's doing it with :') obv i don't know patrick or the details of his personal life but he does seem to be completely comfortable with who is and how he's living and it's so lovely.

also i mean. he's a bear now and he's hot as fuck. i hope to god somebody is telling him how hot he is every day and that he believes them because it's insane that he just walks around on this earth looking like that

[necrotic-nephilim]

For the ask game

What do think would happen in a brudick au where they go public by getting married

for the ask game!

public reactions to BruDick my beloved. i've done a couple of concept similar to this for the ask game but i will do a thousand more just because i think they're fun.

i think all of it hinges on *when* Bruce and Dick publically get married. and because they're both smart about it, they wouldn't rush it. even if their relationship has been going on since they were a teenager, there's a lot of angles to consider. not just how the League will react, but how Gotham will react. this is Bruce Wayne publically marrying his ward and that's a massive scandal. they would hold off as long as they possibly could, likely until Dick is in his mid-twenties. i think they would spin it as something they're not exactly hiding, but not super public about either. Bruce didn't turn the wedding into a press parade (Dick would've killed him if he tried) but he doesn't hide the wedding band and he's quite public with affection toward Dick, in a very "i dear you to say something" way. and the reaction is. baffled, at first. because how *do* you say something? this is *Bruce Wayne*. he has the cleanest image possible. sure, the League expected it, they've seen the uglier side of Bruce, but the public? no one knows how to report on the story because Bruce is a philanthropist. he's charming and beloved.

there are a lot of questions at first. and it doesn't help that Bruce "will tell anyone about his sexual escapades" Wayne is now suddenly shy about sharing his relationship details. he says Dick prefers the privacy and leaves it at that, always pivoting when he's asked to bring up something else, like one his charity programs. it's a very calculated move, and sharper reporters like Vicki Vale are noticing how Bruce always changes the topic to bring up his charity work, painting himself in a good light. so she focuses on trying to talk to Dick. cornering him when he's trying to work, pushing all these questions about things like grooming and Dick's status as Bruce's ward. i think Dick would be far less kind to the press just because he has less patience (and less of a reputation to maintain, if anything he's a bit amused by this whole thing affecting Bruce's rep as much as it is) so his rude responses are fuel to the fiire. long think pieces are posted about about grooming, and then in support of Bruce's marriage, long thing pieces are written about the history of adult adoption in gay spaces. it's all very messy and drawn out and Bruce's reputation certainly takes the hit. i'd love to see this happen specifically around Tim's Robin era and it affecting Jack Drake's trust in Bruce, in allowing his son around Bruce. if Bruce could groom his own ward, who's to say he won't do it to Jack. i'd love to see Jack updating his will that Bruce Wayne isn't allowed to adopt his son, should something happen to him and that affecting Tim after Bruce dies.

i also love the thought of this whole thing causing Bruce to be approved by the "wrong" crowd. there are other celebrities and famous people who take part in questionable activities that border on illegal and trafficking, and now, those people would see Bruce as one of their own. they embrace Bruce socially, and i think it'd be the repercussion Bruce would despise the most. if good people see him as a creep, he'll live with it. but other creeps thinking he's the same as them is a step too far. but, he can spin that to his advantage. he testifies against them, recording conversations of admitting to crimes instead of going after them as Batman. because it helps clean up the image of Bruce Wayne if Bruce is the one taking down rich pedophiles. but it still raises suspicion that Bruce is doing this just for that reason- to look better. he's alienated from most of his Brucie Wayne social circles- even Oliver, who used to be willing to play nice with him in front of the cameras has *no* interest in associating with Bruce after this. the League is. tolerating the marriage and accepting that Dick is an adult they can't tell what to do (even though many of them have pulled him aside to ask if he's okay and gotten brushed off) but that doesn't mean they have to be nice about it. it causes small tanks in Bruce's reputation, even affecting his company enough that he momentarily steps down from CEO, probably giving the position to Lucius for the time being, just to redeem himself.

anytime Bruce takes in a new ward, it's questioned by the public. Cass, Duke, even Damian raises eyebrows as everyone's wondering the unspoken question, if Bruce is going to get with *this* one too. but as the years go on, Bruce remains perfectly loyal to Dick. and Dick seems content as an equal partner to Bruce. if anything, Bruce's loyalty to Dick helps rebuild his reputation more than anything. everyone expects him to ditch Dick for the newest young ward, but he doesn't. which seems to prove that Bruce and Dick were telling the truth about their relationship just happening out of the blue. some people are diehard defending Bruce, pointing out how long Dick lived in Bludhaven before Bruce and Dick got married and if Bruce was grooming Dick, why would he have let that happen, and so on. Dick's autonomy is heavily questioned in all of this, no matter what Dick insists. i think Dick would start posting romantic pictures on his social media just to be spiteful, no matter how much it gives Bruce a heart attack. he dares people to say to his face what they'll say online, making galas particularly tense and interesting, because while Bruce is trying to damage control, Dick is staring down anyone attempting to imply things by making them admit it directly. it forces most of the gossiping to settle down, just because how Dick refuses to beat around the bush. i love the idea of Bruce having a publicist who is Perpetually Stressed Out by Dick's shit.

eventually, everyone accepts it. Bruce still doesn't get back into the social circles he's been exiled from and some creeps try to rub elbows with him, but the hype around it dies down. it becomes one of those things talked about on social media, like a "top ten things you didn't know about Bruce Wayne", with number one being that Bruce married his ward. i think Bruce and Dick would work hard to scrub the internet of proof that Dick was Bruce's ward in the first place. since Dick was never adopted, they just delete a lot of pictures, get articles taken down, and largely let the public forget the idea it happened. they can't completely scrub it, but there's definitely an effort put forth to remove it from recent memory and make it something you'd have to dig to find out about. Dick Grayson is just seen as Bruce Wayne's questionably young husband who helps in take care of all the kids he takes in. they get more affectionate in public because of it, as Bruce gets bolder kissing Dick at galas, always having an arm around him, bringing him to meetings. Dick becomes Bruce's arm candy and well, Dick is a pretty man, so can anyone blame Bruce? they're a photogenic couple and Bruce likes to highlight that. he likes to make people stare, now that the whispers of morality have died down. it's proof that Bruce had his cake and is eating it too, getting to publically marry Dick and still be loved at the end of the day, even if it took a couple rough years to get there.

[luvwich]

✒️ writer interview tag

tagged by @dustdeepsea — tysm, this was great fun! read their answers here and mine, if you like, beneath the cut ✨

When did you start writing?

early 2023 was my first foray into writing actual fiction. prior to that i'd done an embarrassing amount of roleplaying many years ago, which i shall speak on no further, but it did form the basis for a lot of my writing now!

once upon a time, i seriously entertained the idea of an MFA in screenwriting, but went on to pursue something even stupider for grad school 👍

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

honestly everything i enjoy reading gets smuggled into my writing in some form or another!

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

there are like 26 different writers where i wish to take bits and pieces of their style, send it all into a meat grinder, and press the gunk into sausage casings to be dipped in batter and deep fried. ideally i want my writing to hit like wagyu beef that's been corrupted into a county fair corn dog. but no i'm not sure i've ever been compared to another writer! that would fuck my shit up truly (in a good way)

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

typically curled up on my couch, because the ergonomic status of my home office setup is terrible — potentially lethal. sometimes i stay late at my not-home office, hidden away in a dark conference room, but that's usually only if i'm on a self-imposed deadline (i.e. i've started posting a WIP)

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

the spark that gets me to write is usually some kind of Dynamic that i want to explore so i do a lot of noodling upon situations and then figuring out how to get there. and by situations i mean smut

also, writing bits of dialogue, even if i don't know the context yet. it gets a character's voice and mannerisms in my head, and gives me a little grain to start building on

sadly, going on a hike and/or reading a really good book are both very effective and by far the most time consuming

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

longing, isolation, identity, the difference between the person you'd like to be and the person you are, strained/dysfunctional family relationships, wrong person right time, hope, blowjobs, self-deception, california, fucking your way through it, guilt, social class, mommy issues, mono no aware, oral fingering, etc; they don't surprise me anymore but the first time i finished a long fic and took a step back i was like "ohh haha Damn"

What is your reason for writing?

i am horny, sad n silly

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

all forms of feedback are so touching! i think much of what i write is pretty niche, so simply knowing someone has read my stuff gets me pumped. a big essay of a comment is like receiving a love letter, and comments that are just an emoji are like someone's tucked a little note in my lunchbox, and both are incredibly nourishing to me. as far as motivation, though, anything that implies someone is looking forward to reading more is the surest way to light a fire under my people-pleasing ass

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

affable wretch, trickster, wine aunt

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

i'm not sure any one thing stands out: i believe i'm pretty good in a few areas (dialogue, sensory detail, characterization) and notably lacking in others (action, "plot," pacing, not getting high on my own supply)… okay i'll stop being an asshole though and say my strength is in "delivering on a mood," if that is a thing

How do you feel about your own writing?

generally good. for one, i'm proud of myself for ever finishing and posting anything, because following through on shit isn't something i'm renown for. i tend to hate everything i write after i've gotten some distance from it, but i think that's normal? right? i'm new at it and it's all for fun so i try to be gracious with myself, with mixed success, because beneath my goofy exterior i do take everything too seriously

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

mostly for myself; i do abstractly ask "would someone who isn't me enjoy this?" and never quite know the answer. like most humans i crave external validation and connection, but like a cactus i can survive on just a lil rainfall 🌵

tagging w/no pressure (but with my best barbara walters impression) @corpocyborg @ghostoffuturespast @merge-conflict @streetkid-named-desire @writing-for-soup

[alastor-x-reader-stories]

Safety n Shadows - Part 1 of ?

SUMMARY: Two creatures who shunned the light, sticking close to the shadows that were your Sanctuary. You were bound to meet eventually. A deal is struck, a bargain made, a pact formed. Whatever else will it turn into?

TAGS: Reader x Alastor, fluff, humor, eventual romance, Typical Alastor Behavior, some horror aspects.

For as long as you can remember, shadows were your sanctuary. Which wasn’t very long, you lost your memories when you fell but whatever.

You swam through them with ease and grace, as though this was your domain your entire existence. Which you doubted. But you guess you couldn’t assume.

Hell was observed from their safety, the mediocre the depraved… The soft and the dangerous. You’ve seen many things, you’ve heard many things, you’ve learned many things. The shadows of others were little pockets of their owners where you can climb inside and come along for the ride. Skimming closer to the boundary was where you could be seen- but not touched – and the deeper you went the less there was of you to be detected.

You’ve never gone to the bottom of the shadows. That was probably for the best. You have seen what shouldn’t be seen, waved at it, and went about your way. That which shouldn’t be seen didn’t seem to mind as long as you never wandered that deep again.

Some have seen you, some have heard you, but you were always Safe.

When skimming along, you heard a song. Curious, you surfaced enough so your ears can pass the Boundary, poking above the ground to hear more clearly. Slowly you peaked your eyes above as well. On the television display of a small store you watched as the princess of hell talked about her hotel. Or. Sung about it.

It was a good song, and not a bad idea. But how could you be redeemed for something you don’t even remember? You figured there was no point and submerged yourself in shadows once again.

Several months passed before you thought of it again. The early Extermination frightened you, seeing the exorcists arrive in flocks to destroy any sinner they came across. You had pressed deeper into the shadows, away from the sounds and the sights. But you saw something. Someone. In your domain.

And he Saw you.

Would he have reached out? Would he have said something? Would he have hurt you? You could tell he was injured, the shadows were stained red where he passed. He stayed near the Boundary and you wondered if that was by choice or simply because he was injured and couldn’t go further.

When you tried to approach, he bared bleeding fangs at you in a silent warning. Much like for That Which Should not Be Seen, you took the hint and moved away.

You’ve never seen anyone else in the Shadows. You wonder if he ever had.

~~~~~~~~~~(￣▽￣)~~~~~~~~~~~

He’s never seen anyone else in the Shadows. He wondered if you ever had.

It’s been a couple months since the last Extermination and the Hotel was wrapping up its last renovations. Alastor paced around his new room. The walls were a deeper red than the others in the Hotel, the fireplace more ornate and firewood nicely stacked on one side. There was a mounted gator skeleton on the wall, curled over to one side with its snout facing a small bayou. The bayou itself was separated from the main room with a wall that was more a window, and a door made of dark wood separated it from the rest of the place.

It was curated specifically for him, Charlie had told him. He’d be touched if he wasn’t so offended that they didn’t think he could do this himself. However, he had still thanked Charlotte and gave a half-hearted compliment to Vagatha for remembering the details she had.

Alastor’s room was placed down the hall from his new Radio Tower. The one that was built specifically by Charlie and Nifty. It was sleek and elegant and more securely fastened to the hotel than his last one had been. When he first heard of it he was prepared to walk in and find modern technology and blinking lights and smooth screens which he would have to destroy the moment he was alone. Instead, the inside was a near perfect replica of the tower he had lost.

That was thanks to Nifty, apparently. Silly girl had a good memory for that kind of thing.

That, he was able to be grateful for - almost sincerely.

 Time had marched on and memories of the Extermination blurred together. Of course he still remembered that fear - … rage, of being nearly sliced in half. The panic- …irritation, of realizing his microphone had been sliced in half. But what he was dwelling on now…

Was you.

What were you? Where were you? WHO were you?

It had been enough time to recover. So he had sent his shadow to find you, and was now waiting for its return.

Preferably, with you in tow.

[seeminglyseph]

Every now and then I'll see a critique like "they sure just shout their feelings at each other"

And it's like... a shounen fight anime for teenagers.

Which is not to say that the genre is not *capable* of subtly but like. Also, sometimes, when your target audience is teenage boys who are specifically looking for punches, like... sometimes, you put the text in the text on purpose. Sometimes, you consciously choose to have the hero geadbutt the power of friendship into a guy, and they talk about loneliness and fun and leadership.

And also sometimes. Characters don't have the vocabulary to describe their emotions in a way that sounds "valid." Sometimes that's characterization in itself, the lack of vocabulary to describe emotions and motivation. Honestly, it's wild how often people will just take characters at their word when they describe their feelings in a shallow way when like... all the imagery is like... clearly depicting something else. Like, say.... Sometimes, a character just says their bored, but like... literally, all the imagery involved clearly depicts a pretty deep depression or personal crisis. But that character has no words or frame of reference for how to discuss those feelings, so he just says he's bored and lashes out in increasingly erratic ways?

Yeah I might be talking about Wind Breaker again Tomiyama Choji gets done so fucking dirty by people what the fuck is up with so many videos I have seen just fucking going "what he did all this because he was bored???"

Like. No. Did you pay attention??? He lost his purpose, and he lost his way, and none of his friends were willing to stand up to him or stand with him, so even though he was the leader and he had a gang, he was entirely alone. But he didn't have the ability to find what he was missing, or name what he was feeling. So he didn't know how to ask for help.

He's as much a feral child as Sakura and so works as a first arc foil for him, a character who seeks power and leadership without any goals or intentions behind it besides "Freedom." Especially since Choji is shown not fully knowing for himself what freedom is or would represent. But for the types of people who end up in feral street gangs? And for a character that is a foil to Sakura and is also... very speed based in his fighting style. Freedom makes sense for something that Choji would want.

But it seems like a promise he was given without much intention of him receiving it. I don't really think he was supposed to overthrow the boss of his gang and become the leader... though that's some rampant speculation.

I dunno man. I know part of it is like. O ly one season is out, so everyone is still not sure what to think about it. And that's fair. I'm still like... confused about multiple angles of the series. I've read... a decent chunk of the manga, and I'm still like. Pretty curious about how the universe works, honestly. Maybe the fact that I clocked how Choji held his chopsticks and like. Multiple puzzle pieces fell into place because I have been loving the weird little details Wind Breaker will throw in. Either this series tells a very intense story through background details and character designs, or one day, I will be made a very large fool of.

None of this is an organised enough thought to be worth anything but like. I know this is probably not controversial among Wind Breaker *fans*, but like. I keep like... seeing people with this opinion in videos and stuff talking about Wind Breaker that seemed to have not connected and not understood.

Which does make me feel a little like a "you just don't *understand* man." But like. If you really felt like Choji acted the way he acted because he was bored and wanted to have more fun you like... *didn't get it* or were being purposefully disingenuous because you personally disliked the portrayal.

[oozeandgoo-art]

This is (vertically) pretty long; the rest is under the cut to save your dash.

Haven is a lot of things. An effective communicator isn't one.

This is very much intended to be Taran retelling the story of the time this happened to someone else, given the eight-thousand anachronisms and the level of comfort Taran has in talking to Haven. It's so specifically anachronistic in such a specific "I'm telling you a story and I don't want you to get bogged down in the inconvenient details" way that it got me to write 6000 words (and counting) of a stupid wip so I could justify this existing.

Bonus notes: Haven is specifically pretending to be asleep because he doesn't want to talk about the mess in the kitchen. Taran isn't remotely annoyed about that but he would like for next time Haven to come downstairs and say hi instead of putting on a shirt and then pretending to be asleep again.

[astralleywright]

spent like an hour trying to find a post abt the disparity of origin companion's content in bg3 and couldn't so, hey, this fucking sucks

[vaguely-concerned]

sitting here with my head in my hands over just how much coalecroux is exactly tfgraves except tf incidentally happens to be a warlock alligator (a minor detail that changes surprisingly little overall tbh). I stand humbled once again before my own immense and unspeakable predictability

[moe-broey]

One thing they don't tell you about the Senshi tulpa that WILL inevitably manifest in your mind to tell you to eat better is that. Every time I make myself a coffee via kuerig instantly, I can hear him. Lamenting the fact that I have become so accustomed to convenience and ease that even a standard coffee machine has become foreign to me. I am thinking about how to make coffee without use of a machine in the first place, I am wondering where my french press went, I can see him. In my mind. Showing me how to make coffee in The Dungeon. Dungeon Coffee.

[allieinarden]

Someone’s gotta do a critical study of those TikTok-type point of view videos of, you know, getting bullied by a cool girl when you were in sixth grade, or having your mother-in-law be rude to you, or getting the brush-off after paying a visit your divorced dad wasn’t expecting (not a hypothetical, had this just inexplicably pop up on my YouTube Recommended), I think they started out as observational comedy skits with the occasional cathartic edge and resonated because so many people relate to them, but at what point are they an exercise in deliberately putting yourself in a bad mood (as opposed to accidentally putting yourself in a bad mood, which is the typical practice of social media)? And at what point beyond that are they just training videos teaching you how to hate more types of people and bundle loaded assumptions about them into your interactions, should you encounter them in real life? Because we’re well past that point, baby!

[sesamestreep]

for your consideration in the “it’s a nice problem to have but still definitely a problem” category: the people I spent most of this summer so far interviewing with for a job didn’t hire me but, in their rejection email, they told me to apply for another job they’d be posting at the end of the month and so now I’m in maybe the most awkward job application process of my life

[sysig]

Pivotal bright spot (Patreon)