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training4theapocalypse · 11 months

Text

And they call me crazy (Adrian Chase x fem!reader)

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: SMUT, Rough sex, Non-con elements - reader is drunk and a (very eager to fuck) hostage, Light bondage, Oral, P in V, Unprotected sex, Edging, Canon typical mentions of murder and violence

Summary: You're a new intern at Senator Goff's office. It's going great... that is until Vigilante abducts you after you've been out drinking, celebrating the end of your first week. (Based on this ask from anon.)

A/N: I'm fucking impatient as usual and I couldn't wait until Sunday to post this. I've added non-con to the warnings but honestly, reader is so desperate to fuck him she DOESN'T GIVE AF if it's morally questionable that she's a hostage.

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Chapter text:

Your gasp is stifled when a black glove covers your mouth and an arm wraps tight around your body. You stumble on the sidewalk, teetering back in your high heels into your assailant’s body but he holds you firmly upright.

“Don’t scream,” says a man’s muffled whisper in your ear.

Your whole body freezes up. God, you wish you were more sober. Why did you insist on walking home after those celebratory drinks? This is not the perfect ending to the first week of your internship that you’d envisioned. Is this why Senator Goff didn’t turn up for work today? They said he was sick.

“I’m not gonna hurt you if you keep quiet and get in the car.”

It’s a man’s voice. Not one you recognise. But you can barely hear it anyway over how loudly your heart is beating in your chest. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, it seems to say, battering frantically against your rib cage.

“Nod if you understand me.”

You jerk your head forward - his tight grip doesn’t make the movement easy.

God, why didn’t you listen to your Mom? She told you earlier to get a cab home and stay safe, you’d just dismissed her advice as usual because you knew best.

He removes his hand and pushes you into the open passenger door of a beat-up old Chrysler Sebring. It all happens so fast that you don’t even think to check out the license plate.

Shit.

The man shuts the passenger door after you and hops into the driver’s seat on the other side.

It’s him.

You’ve seen his masked face on the news, wanted for carrying out his own brand of retributive justice on criminals across Evergreen. You heard people talking about his latest crimes at work today. Hell, you’ve even made stupid memes about having a crush on him in your girlfriend’s group chat.

It’s Vigilante.

You were ready to beg for your life a second ago. But now all you can do is stare. At the forefront of your admittedly inebriated mind is the fact that you’ve fantasised about the masked Vigilante of Evergreen before. But in your fantasies, you’d always been someone that he’d saved from a robbery gone wrong or some other sticky situation. Not his abductee.

And this is no fantasy. He’s here - he’s real. So intimidatingly tangible and human. You can hear his breathing through his mask, see his eyes darting around your dark surroundings checking for passersby, and you can even smell the sharp, fresh scent of his cologne when he gets close to you, reaching behind you to grab a length of rope from the back seat.

“Put your hands out.” You swallow thickly, looking at his masked face. There’s no point in arguing. “If you make any indication to anyone we pass that you’re you’re here against your will, I will kill you.”

“Listen, I don’t know what you think I’ve done but I-”

“Hey - don’t make me gag you and put you in the trunk,” he says, finishing the knot around your wrists as your stomach does a little flip. Not out of fear. Something else. He turns his keys and starts the ignition. “Oooh, seatbelt! Sorry.”

You breathe in as he reaches across you to grab your seatbelt and clip you in. Your hands sit uncomfortably on your lap as the car drives out of the dark street and onto the main road.

He pulls out his cell phone as he drives to wherever you’re going and you hear the other end of the phone ringing in the silent car.

“What is it?” You strain your ears, listening as a woman answers aggressively.

“I’ve got Goff’s assistant. I’m on my way to the video store.”

Goff’s assistant? That’s a stretch. You’re an intern. And not even Goff’s intern. You’re his assistant’s intern.

“I’m not-” you start but he cuts you off.

“Quiet!”

“What?!” says the woman on the phone.

“Sorry, Harcourt. Not you.”

“No, I mean you did what?! Vigilante, you need to run this shit by me. You can’t bring her here.”

“I did you a favour! We’re way ahead of schedule now.”

You hear the unidentified woman grumble. “We’ve got Judomaster here, dumbass. Take her someplace else.”

Goff’s funny little bodyguard. Now you know that Vigilante and the woman on the phone are responsible for Goff’s absence. Shit, what’s he going to do when he realises you know nothing?

“Where am I supposed to take her?”

“That’s what happens when you go rogue, idiot. We’ll talk about this tomorrow. She’s your problem tonight.”

You hear the line beeping as the woman hangs up.

“Fuck!” says Vigilante and he does a U-turn. “Hey, close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“I’m gonna have to take you to my place. I said close your eyes or-”

“Yeah, you’ll kill me. I got it,” you say resignedly. You close your eyes feeling the car turn left, straight for a while, right, left… you lose track. You have no idea where you are or how long it takes you to get there when finally you arrive at your destination.

You hear him get out of the car and still not daring to open your eyes, you feel the cool night air when the passenger door opens.

“Can I open my eyes?”

“Nope.”

You feel him reach over you to unclip your seatbelt and he hoists you out of the car by your upper arm. He roughly steers you across what you guess is a parking lot by the way your high heels click on the asphalt.

His vice-like grip on your arm still doesn’t relent, even when you reach the stairs.

“Not so fast - I can’t see!” And you’re still kind of drunk.

“Shh! Not here,” he whispers urgently. But his hold on you becomes more gentle as he helps you up the stairs, more slowly now. A sliver of empathy.

The sound of keys jingle as he unlocks a door and guides you inside. You hear him locking and bolting the door behind you. Great.

“Can I-”

“Yeah, you can open ‘em.”

You open your eyes. The small apartment is sparsely furnished, obviously decorated by a single man. No artwork on his walls, a small dining table, a clean but worn leather couch without even so much as a throw pillow.

The screech of wood on laminate makes your arm hair stand up as he pulls over a hard wooden chair into the middle of the living room.

“Sit.”

You do as you’re told. He pulls another chair over and sits down opposite you, leaning back, with his arm resting on the back of the chair. Vigilante’s intimidating form relaxes casually in front of you.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” he tells you.

“I - do what the easy way?” You shift in your seat, squeezing your thighs together. What wouldn’t you want Vigilante to do you right now? Stop it, you scold yourself.

“You’ve got information and I need it.”

“I really don’t have any sort of information.”

He edges his seat closer to you, close enough that you can smell his cologne again. Fuck. “Hey, I get it. I was tortured for intel a few days ago and I didn’t crack either-”

“Torture?!” You panic now. “Look, I’m not lying - I’m not Goff’s assistant! If I knew anything I’d tell you.”

His eyes narrow behind the mask. He pulls out his phone, looking through it for something. “Shit.” Vigilante looks from his phone to you. “This isn’t you.” He holds up the screen and shows you a blurry picture of your boss walking out of the office. Sure you look alike - you have the same hair colour and both wear suits to work but she’s significantly older.

You shake your head.

“What were you doing coming out of the senator’s office?” He accuses, as if it’s your fault he’s kidnapped you.

“I’m an intern. It’s my first week.”

“So you work there? Right?” he asks desperately.

“I just get coffee and take notes, dude.”

He tilts his head back, staring at the ceiling. “Oh man, Harcourt’s gonna freak out when I tell her I fucked up again. I can’t believe I picked up the wrong hostage.”

You sit, wrists still tied together in your lap staring at him. Now what? Maybe he’ll just drop you off outside the bar where the grabbed you.

“Look, we all make mistakes. It happens to the best of us. No harm done so-”

“Stop.” He looks up at you. “You know I can’t let you go.”

You take a deep breath and look at him silently for a few seconds. “So now what? Are you gonna kill me?”

“I-”

‘I’m a Barbie girl, in the Barbie world. Life in plastic, it’s fantastic’

Vigilante looks at his phone, apparently confused that it isn’t the source of the music.

“It’s mine,” you sigh, embarrassed by your choice of ringtone. You try to pick your phone out of your suit pocket with tied wrists.

“Your ringtone is Barbie Girl?”

You nod.

He pauses, giving you an unreadable look from behind his mask before reaching into your suit pocket. “I can’t let you have this.” He declines the call. Your phone pings as a message arrives. “Someone called Melanie says ‘Your boyfriend is on the news again’,” he reads.

Fuck. Your best friend Melanie knows all about your stupid crush on the man sitting in front of you right now.

“Hey- don’t read my messages!”

“I need to know if your boyfriend is gonna come looking for you.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend, I swear. She’s just making a stupid joke.”

Your phone pings again. “She’s sent you a picture - what’s your passcode?”

“I said don’t read my messages. I’m not telling you my passcode.”

Vigilante sighs and turns your phone around to face you and your Face ID unlocks it. He freezes when he opens the image.

Oh, god.

He turns the phone back towards you again and you groan. Melanie has taken a picture of the news on her TV. Vigilante is on the screen. Shit.

“I told you, it was just a stupid joke,” you mumble, feeling your face turning scarlet.

“I didn’t realise you were a fan,” he says, and you can tell from the tone of his voice that he has a stupid grin under his mask.

“Well, I’m definitely not a fan right now.” You hold up your wrists.

“She can see you’ve opened it. What should I say back?”

“Hmm... say LOL…” He starts typing. “Call the police. I’m being held hostage.”

He deletes what he just typed and gives you a stern look. “Fine, I’ll just go through your messages and see what you said before.”

“No, wait! I was kidding!” You try to snatch the phone from his hands but his reflexes are too quick for your tied hands. He doesn’t have to scroll very far back through your messages to find what he’s looking for.

Vigilante laughs and starts reading aloud. “OMG, he is so fine… I’m just gonna say that again.” He sends the message and you hear the notification of Melanie responding almost immediately. He reads it aloud. “She says ‘Knew you’d appreciate it - wink emoji’.”

“Can you just kill me already?” you ask sarcastically.

He puts your phone in his pocket. “I’m not gonna kill you.”

“So what am I doing here then?”

“Waiting. For now.” You stare at each other for a few seconds. It’s hard not to feel like you’re in immediate danger. “Do you want a beer?”

Perhaps your life isn’t in danger.

You blink at him incredulously. He walks over to the refrigerator and returns with two beers. He opens yours and hands it to you.

“Can you untie me so I can drink it?” You ask, testing the waters.

“Are you gonna try and attack me and escape?”

You’ve never been in a fight in your entire life. There’s no way you’d be able to win in a physical altercation with him, not with his reputation for massacring criminal gangs.

“No.”

Vigilante looks you over, and you stare up at him, waiting for his assessment. “I could take you, anyway,” he says casually and puts down his beer on the coffee table so he can untie your wrists.

You feel yourself blushing again at his words. Vigilante could take you. He means in a fight. But your mind immediately thinks of him taking you in another way.

When he unties you, you rub your wrists, feeling the sweet relief of having them free again. Vigilante kicks back on the couch and gestures to the seat next to him. You move over and perch uncertainly on the cool leather. He lifts the bottle of beer, and then realising he’d need to remove his mask to drink it, puts it back down.

“You can take it off if you want,” you suggest.

“And let you see my face? No way. I have a secret identity.”

“Well, I bet you’re handsome under there.”

What are you doing?

The sensible voice at the back of your mind supposes that flirting with him might convince him to free you. Another slightly louder, drunker voice in your head suggests that flirting with him might convince him to fuck you.

He looks away, flustered. “I dunno about that...”

“That’s why you wear that mask, right? You’re probably so good-looking you’d be easy to spot in a line-up.”

He lifts the edge of his mask - you think for a second he’s about to reveal who he is but instead, he takes a long drink of beer. You watch his sharp jaw and exposed neck as he swallows and get a brief glance at his wet lips before he pulls the fabric back down over his face again.

“That mask doesn’t do you any favours, hiding a jawline like that.”

“Stop it, okay. I know what you’re doing.” You raise your eyebrows. “You think because you’re pretty, you can seduce me into letting you go. It’s not gonna work.”

Pretty.

You try not to smile, to keep your expression blank. You wish you could text Melanie - she’d lose her shit right now. But you’ve laid it on a bit too thick. Even though it is true - he does have a ridiculously nice lower half of his face.

“I’m just passing the time. Believe it or not, I’ve never been abducted before.” You shrug. “So what’s the plan? Stay here until your boss on the phone tells you to kill me in the morning?”

“She’s not my boss.”

“Sounds like she is.”

“I work alone. Mostly. Or with Peacemaker.”

“So let me go then. I won’t tell a soul. I promise.”

“It’s not that simple. I can’t just release a hostage.”

You think. Hard. “What if I could get you the information you need? Then I’m an accomplice. Not a hostage.”

“I thought you just got the coffee?”

“I know where my boss keeps her laptop. And her password.”

“What kind of boss tells a brand new intern her password?”

You purse your lips, wondering how much you can safely reveal to him. “She trusts me.”

“The way you want me to trust you?”

“It’s different… I just don’t want her to get kidnapped too.”

He tilts his head. “That could work.” He hesitates. “But I’ll need to double-check with Harcourt in the morning.” He spins his bottle of beer in his hands.

“I’ll give you the laptop’s location and password if you let me see your face.”

“Uh, no. You’re giving me the location and password in exchange for letting you go.”

“This is a hostage negotiation, right?” You give him a coy smile. “Let the hostage do some negotiating.”

“No way.” He lifts the bottom of his mask up again to take another drink.

“What if I suck your dick, will you show me your face?”

Vigilante chokes on his beer.

“Jeez! I’ve already told you that you can stop coming onto me. I’ve agreed to ask Harcourt to let you go.”

“I know. I’m just shooting my shot,” you smile, resting the beer bottle on your bottom lip. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

“Yeah, right.” He says though you can’t help but notice the way his visor-covered eyes linger on your lips.

“Dude, you saw my messages. I’ve always wanted to bump into Vigilante. Under different circumstances, obviously.”

This intrigues him. He turns in his seat, resting on the arm of the couch to face you. “Uh, what kind of circumstances?”

“Well, if you really want to know - they’re in my texts with Melanie.”

He looks at your phone again, opens your messages and starts scrolling up. His eyes widen as he pauses, reading. “Damn…”

“Which one are you reading?”

“There’s more than one?!” His voice is higher pitched this time and you grin. “Uh… ‘I wish we’d bumped into Vigilante when those guys were harassing us leaving the club last night. He would have kicked their asses and I would have-’... Holy shit.”

He adjusts himself in his seat and you can tell he’s hard just from reading your text exchange. You tilt your beer towards him encouragingly. “You can say it.”

“...‘I would have sucked the fucking soul from his body.’ Girls say this kind of shit to each other?”

You sip your drink and say nothing.

Vigilante looks at you like you’re a piece of cake he really, really shouldn’t be thinking about eating. “It would be morally wrong for me to sleep with a hostage.” He looks into your eyes.

You edge closer to him on the couch. “Accomplice, remember? I’m not a hostage if I work with you, right?”

“Listen, you are so hot. And if I met you in real life… fuck. It would be a different story.”

“This is real life.”

“You know what I mean.”

You get on your knees and crawl over to him between his legs. He shrinks back into the corner of the couch cushions. “C’mon. I won’t tell your boss.”

He swallows nervously. “You’re making it really hard for me to say no right now.”

You run your fingers over his belt. “Say you don’t want me to and I’ll stop.” Vigilante groans. You crawl forward again and press your forehead against his masked one, looking into his visor. “Tell me you don’t want me to suck your dick,” you whisper.

“Fuck…” He breathes. “And they call me crazy.”

“Maybe you should be more careful who you let in your car.”

His gloved hand grabs your wrist and for a second you think he’s going to make you stop but instead, he guides your hand onto the bulge through the fabric of his pants. Vigilante leans his head back, exposing a tiny glimpse of his neck between his mask and his suit. Your tongue finds the skin there, sliding across it and you feel him shiver underneath you.

It’s like he’s at your mercy now as you slowly, agonisingly slowly, undo his belt revealing the v-shape of his lower abdominal muscles covered in a smattering of brown hair. You slide your body down between his legs and kiss the trail of hair below his belly button while your hands work, unzipping his pants and pulling his boxers down.

Vigilante’s cock slaps his stomach when you release it from his boxers. Shit, you have a lot to work with. You’re already wet between your legs just from your conversation but the sight of him sprawled out in front of you - his entire body concealed with the exception of his hard cock - sends blood rushing to your pussy.

You lick your lips and the moment your tongue slides across his head, you feel his whole body tremble.

“Holy shit,” Vigilante whispers raggedly from behind his mask. He lifts his head to watch as his length disappears into your mouth, and you look up at him with wide eyes and hollow cheeks, sucking and running your tongue along the underside of his cock.

He grunts as you pull back to run your tongue slowly around his head again. His reaction makes your pussy ache with longing, thinking about how he’d sound with his mask off, moaning like that in your ear.

“Fuck, that’s it. Thaat’s it,” he says through gritted teeth as you find a rhythm, bobbing your head up and down. He threads his gloved hands through your hair - you think he’s going to start fucking your throat but you’re surprised when he doesn’t apply any force, letting you maintain your pace. Vigilante watches you on all fours, your ass in the air behind you as your mouth makes the wettest, sloppiest sucking sounds he’s ever heard.

Then he sees it. A glimpse of your hand under your tailored work skirt, confirming to him again that this isn’t just a ploy for early release. You’re really fucking turned on by being here, sucking his cock.

“Wait…” he whines, tugging gently at the base of your scalp. You pull back, replacing your mouth with your other hand so you can look at him. “Can I fuck you?”

You pull away and bite your lip, still pumping your hand up and down the length of his cock.

“You said you’d show me your face.” Time for your one last bargaining chip.

“I…” He hesitates, propping himself up on his elbows. “I can’t,” he pleads.

“You’ll have to cum here on your stomach then,” you grin, your wet fist picking up pace as he tenses his thighs and tries to stop his hips from jerking up into you. “If you show me your face I’ll let you cum inside me.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he groans. You stop jerking him off and watch him as he pulls his mask off, tossing it aside on the coffee table. He takes a pair of glasses out of his pocket and puts them on.

You stare at him in shock. You were mostly just teasing him earlier- you hadn’t actually expected him to be this good-looking. Sure, you knew from him drinking his beer earlier that he had a nice jawline. But even in your fantasies, he was faceless - he never had gorgeous green eyes and tousled curly hair.

“You’re hot?” You blurt out before you can stop yourself. “What the fuck!?”

He smiles. And you can see it this time. It’s beautiful. He has dimples.

The intimidation you felt before when you first saw the masked killer in front of you is nothing compared to how you feel now. You practically melt, turning into putty. Feeling lightheaded you realise you’ve been holding your breath and begin making a conscious effort to breathe again. Seconds ago you were convinced he was at your mercy but now…

“Do whatever you want to me,” you say abruptly. Your underwear is flooded thinking that this man, this ridiculously beautiful killer wants to fuck you.

“Oh… I’m gonna.” He raises his eyebrows and lunges forward, pinning you to the couch and kissing your neck. His rough exterior armour digs into your chest. Your hands wander along his shoulders, trying to find the mechanism to unclip it. He feels your movements and pushes himself off of you so he can undo them himself.

You lie back, watching him remove his suit, revealing a host of white scars and purplish-yellow welts across his toned chest and abdomen. You undo the top two buttons of your blouse.

“Nuh-uh,” he says, tossing his under armour onto the floor. You let out a yelp of surprise when he grabs the opening of your shirt and rips it open, sending buttons scattering across his floor. He pushes your bra up, not bothering to take it off to suck on your tits.

You run your fingers through his curly hair, feeling him sloppily run his tongue over your nipple. His teeth clamp down on your breast - hard - and you squeal and yank his hair.

“Ow! Not so rough!”

He just gives you a mischievous smirk and you release your grip when he sucks the spot gently, in a sort of silent apology. It’s definitely going to leave a bruise tomorrow - a secret souvenir of your night with the masked man from the news all your friends know you have a crush on.

But Christ, what have you let yourself in for?

Vigilante moves down your body, kissing your stomach and pulling off your skirt and underwear in a single movement, throwing them haphazardly on the floor. You gasp when his mouth returns to your body and a soft, wet heat envelopes your pussy. He drags his tongue slowly, carefully along your slit.

“Oh fuck…” you whine, arching your back. “Vigilante, I- wait, fuck, what do I call you?”

“Vigilante,” he says between achingly slow licks. Every nerve ending seems to light up, sending blissful signals to your brain.

“No, I - I mean what’s your name?”

“Vigilante.”

God damn.

You look down and lock eyes with him, his pupils blown so wide his green eyes almost look black as he stares up at you, swirling his tongue in wide circles against your swollen clit. The entire lower half of your body tightens up and the walls of your pussy clench, desperate for something to squeeze around. His fingers, his cock - anything.

You reach down to find his large, gloved hand and tug at the fabric, trying to pull it off him.

He pulls his mouth back and removes his glove with his teeth.

“Is this what you want, baby?” He asks, running a single finger through your slick, wet folds and over your clit.

You nod.

“Beg for it.”

“Please, Vigilante.”

He sinks two fingers deep in your cunt.

“Is this what you fantasise about?” His questioning makes you tighten around his fingers as he draws them in and out of you. Your breathing quickens in time with his fingers pressing against that sweet spot deep inside your pelvis.

He stops abruptly and the whine that escapes you is pathetic.

“Answer me.”

“Y-yes,” you moan. “Every night.” You wriggle, trying to fuck yourself on his stationary fingers.

“Finger fucking yourself like this?” He curls his fingers up into you again.

“Mhmm.”

“Use your words.”

“Yes, fuck, just like… like this.” You bring your hand to your clit and start rubbing yourself in an obscene demonstration for him as he watches from his kneeling position, one hand between your thighs.

You’re close now, you can feel your orgasm burning up inside you as your cunt starts pulsing more consistently around his digits and your breathing gets heavier. Just as your release is about to crash over you, he withdraws his hand and grabs your wrist, moving your hand away from your clit.

“Wha-?” You pant dazedly. “I was just about to-”

“I know,” he smirks. “Not yet.”

Fuck. He’s fucking edging you.

His lips meet yours for the first time and you moan softly into his mouth. His tongue rolls against yours and you can still taste your sweet and salty juices on him.

Then, without warning, he flips you over and you gasp wordlessly face down on the leather couch in stunned silence. He pulls your hips back and up towards him.

“Fuck, Vigilante,” you choke, lifting your head up and arching your back, your brain working hard to regain awareness of its surroundings.

The weight of his body presses down on top of you as he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you’re gonna forget my face in a line-up.”

Fuck.

He takes his cock and drags it over your soaking wet entrance, flushed and swollen for him and the broken sob that escapes you is desperate.

“Please,” you beg again. “Just let me cum.”

Vigilante sinks into you with a forceful jerk of his hips and your pussy seizes up tight around him as your face is forced onto the cold leather again. You try and push yourself up onto all fours.

“Nuh-uh, I like seeing you like this,” he says with another forceful thrust, knocking you off balance. “Hands behind your back.” You huff and do what he says, his still-gloved hand pinning your wrists behind you. “I shoulda just kept you tied up, huh?”

You can’t answer, you can’t move, you can’t do anything except just take him. Sparks of electricity reignite inside you, the deepest you’ve ever felt it as he pounds into you, hitting just that right spot again. You turn your head to look at him over your shoulder and when you see Vigilante biting his lip in concentration your walls start pulsing and squeezing around his cock.

“Not… yet.” He grunts. “Not ‘til I say.”

He pushes down on your wrists and it feels like all the air is being knocked from your lungs with every roll of his hips.

“Fuck, you’re such a… pretty… little… hostage,” he groans through gritted teeth, each thrust punctuated by his praise.

“Yes…” you whine because it’s all you can manage to say. It’s all you can think. That one singular confirmation repeating over and over again in your head - it’s all you want to be for him. Fuck, you’d happily spend the rest of your life locked in his apartment, letting him use you like this every time he came home after a night of murdering criminals.

Your eyes roll back in your head, fireworks rocketing and exploding into a million bright pieces. If there’s a heaven, it would look like this - a beaten-up leather couch in a shitty apartment in downtown Evergreen.

His other hand that’s free of his glove and not pinning you down reaches round and starts working your clit with rough, calloused fingertips. You squeeze your eyes shut, not realising they’ve been watering. Real tears leak from the corners, leaving your face a wet mess on the leather seat. You choke out a sob, not sure how much longer you can fight against your orgasm.

“Shh, shhh… it’s okay, baby. You can cum. Let it all out for me.”

And you do.

Everything goes dark and you’re lost in the pleasure that takes over your body, your climax wiping your mind blank of all thoughts except Vigilante. Your pussy clamps down hard like a vice around his cock as you squirm on his fingers. It’s only when you feel him shudder and collapse on top of you that you realise he’s come undone too.

You both lie there for a second, feeling the warmth of your combined mess leaking out and the sound of him panting, exhausted.

“Vigilante…” you say in a strained voice, breaking the silence.

“Yeah?” he exhales and takes another gulp of air.

“You’re crushing me.”

“Oh.” He hoists himself off of you. “Let me get you a towel.”

With difficulty, you sit back upright to wipe your eyes and fix your hair. Vigilante returns with a towel and you sit on it, grateful for the barrier between you and the wet, sticky couch cushion.

He throws himself back down beside you. “Whoo, I’m beat!” he says cheerfully. “What do you wanna do now?”

You look at him uncertainly and glance at your watch. “It’s one in the morning.”

“Right, cool. Do you wanna sleep on the couch or-”

‘I’m a Barbie girl, in the Barbie world. Life in plastic, it’s fantastic’

Who’s phoning you this late?

He picks up both of your phones from the coffee table. “It’s mine,” he says and accepts the call. “Hello?”

Wait - his ringtone is Barbie Girl too?

“It’s me,” says the same voice of the woman who called him earlier. “Have you dealt with the hostage yet?”

Vigilante looks at you and hesitates. He swallows. “Yeah. It’s done.”

“So she accepted the bribe? You’ve got the laptop?”

His eyes widen. “The bribe? Oh! Yeah, sure! The bribe...”

“Vij, you didn’t kill her, did you?”

“What?” He lets out a maniacal laugh. “You’re crazy, Harcourt, of course I didn’t kill her. What’s the, uh, budget again?” He winks at you and makes an ‘ok’ sign with his thumb and forefinger. He’s insane, you think.

“I dunno, like five grand?”

“Phew! Then yes, it is all dealt with. Done and dusted. I will get that laptop.”

“You don’t have the laptop yet!? Vigilante, you need to get the laptop before you hand over the money, idiot.”

“Copy that,” he grins.

“Vigilante, what the f-”

He hangs up, cutting her off and tosses his phone aside.

“Good news. I can let you go once you give me the laptop.”

“And the five grand?” You raise your eyebrows.

“Wait, you heard that?!”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Well not until you give me the laptop.”

“I can get it tonight if you need it? We just need to swing by my boss’s house before you drop me off.”

He frowns. “Oh. Right. Yeah, of course. I need to… need to take you home.”

You tilt your head to one side and look at him fondly. You fix his messy curls and he closes his eyes at your touch. “Or… I could stay here tonight? Pick up the laptop tomorrow morning once you’ve fixed me some breakfast?”

He perks up. “I could do that! …You’re one hundred per cent sure you can get it though, right?”

You sigh and extend your hand. “Give me my phone.” He does and watches you go through your contacts.

The line rings and a familiar but slightly croaky voice answers.

“Honey, it’s one in the morning. Is everything alright? Did you get home okay?”

“Hey Mom, I’m fine. Listen, I think I forgot to send an email before I left the office and I can’t sleep worrying about it. Can I pick up your laptop first thing tomorrow?”

She yawns. “Sure thing. Don’t get stressed about it. Just go get some sleep.”

“Thanks, boss. I love you.”

“Goodnight sweetie. I love you too.”

You grin as Vigilante gapes at you.

“Goff’s assistant… she’s your-?”

“Yup. Now c’mon, show me where your bedroom is.” You stand up and reach your hands out, waiting for him to guide you. You step on one of your shirt buttons as he leads you towards the hallway. “You owe me a new shirt, by the way.”

“I just made you five grand. Use that to buy a new shirt,” he says, opening the bedroom door.

“Hey, what happened to the hostage negotiation? These are the terms of my release.”

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere,” he smirks, shutting the door behind you.

#vigilante x reader #vigilante #adrian chase x reader #vigilante peacemaker #adrian chase #vigilante x you #freddie stroma #fanfic #peacemaker #vigilante x female reader #adrian chase x female reader #adrian chase x you #adrian chase imagines #adrian chase x y/n

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ichorai · 1 year

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dinner & diatribes ; adrian chase. (m)

track eleven of WASTELAND, BABY!

pairing ; adrian chase x gn!reader

synopsis ; the two of you only brought the worst out of each other, but you just couldn’t stay away.

words ; 1.8k

themes ; comedy, mild smut (?)

warnings / includes ; arguing, lots of swearing, they fuck against a desk but it's not too graphic and pretty glossed over, reader punches adrian and breaks his nose, chris is the embodiment of e_e

main masterlist.

“I had him!” you snarled, striding up to Adrian until the two of you were practically nose-to-nose. He had ripped his mask off earlier, seeing no point in keeping it on when everybody on the team was already very well aware of his not-so-secret secret identity. “He was the only shot we had at getting information and you just fucking—Argh! You ruined everything, you dumb fucking piece of motherfucking—!”

Raising his hands in a condescendingly placating manner, Adrian retorted, “Woah! Watch it, potty mouth!”

Frustration crawled through your skin and wove beneath your muscles, nestling within your bones. “God, I hate you. This was my mission. You had no right interfering—!”

“Well, excuse me, first of all, this was our mission. Second, I’m sorry for saving your ass!” he interrupted. “If it hadn’t been for me, you would be out there, bleeding out of multiple gunshot wounds, thinking to yourself, ‘Oh, I wish Vigilante was here to come rescue me! He’s so handsome and I wish I could have sex with him just one more time and tell him how sorry I am for being a dick and ignoring him and pretending like it had never fucking happened!’”

You clenched your jaw, eye twitching. Sure, the two of you had slept together once—it was the heat of the moment and the adrenaline after a bloody fight, really—sodden clothes were hastily torn away or pulled to the side, bleeding lips were roughly slanted against each other, and he had fucked you on top of Chris’ messy desk with wild abandon. So fucking what?

“I was more than capable of handling the situation on my own.”

“Oh, were you, really?” Adrian rolled his eyes. “Don’t kid yourself. Honestly, sometimes it feels like you wouldn’t even care if you died—!”

With a growl rumbling within your throat, you wound your arm back, clenched your hand into a tight fist, and struck Adrian squarely in the face. A bilious crack echoed throughout the dingy room. He reared backwards, clutching his most-likely broken nose, groaning loudly.

You were well aware of the fact that the rest of the team was awkwardly watching the two of you hash it out. Tentative, Adebayo started saying, “Guys, I think we—”

“No!” you cut her off. “Fuck you, Adrian.”

With that, you stormed out of the room, ripping off the rest of your tactical gear along the way and cold fury wrapping its dark hands around your neck.

“Fuck,” Adrian said, all stuffy from his bleeding nose. “That made me so hard.”

Chris smacked him on the back of his head, which made him squawk with pain.

“I don’t know, man,” said Chris, sticking his tongue out the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on scribbling a dove of peace on another one of his weapons that Harcourt hadn’t bothered emblazing, despite his repeated insistence. “Maybe you should apologize to Y/N. They seemed really pissed.”

Blowing a raspberry, Adrian waved his most best friend’s advice away. “Pfft—no, if anything, they should be the one apologizing to me. Did you see how my nose was all bloody and crooked?”

Chris momentarily turned his attention away from the crude drawing of the dove of peace (which, unsurprisingly, looked like a ghost), and scowled at the spectacled, borderline psychotic man-child across from him. “Jeez, stop overreacting. Harcourt set your nose back right after, don’t be such a baby.”

“But it hurt!” Adrian whined. “You know that a person’s sense of smell is probably, like, the most important sense out of all the senses?”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“Uh huh—scented candle businesses would go bankrupt if none of us could smell!”

Narrowing his eyes, Chris replied, “Yeah, but how the fuck would that make it the most important—ugh, you know what? Just go apologize to them. We have another mission tomorrow morning and I don’t want their panties in a twist because of you.”

Adrian chortled. “Heh, wouldn’t be the first time I twisted their pa—” At Chris’ sharp glare, he immediately cut himself short. “Fine! I’ll go, I’ll go. If I die, please play an episode of Friends at my funeral—specifically the episode where they hire Danny Devito as a stripper. I really liked that episode. I liked it a lot. You got that?”

“Yeah, Danny Devito, stripper, funeral, got it!” retorted Chris, clearly not listening anymore as he waved Adrian away.

Squaring his shoulders, Adrian marched away from his trusted friend and headed to the room down the hall, pushing the door open and peeking his head through. He saw you buried behind a pile of paperwork on your desk, muttering incoherently beneath your breath.

When you noticed him come in, he pursed his lips and waved awkwardly, shutting the door behind him.

“Hey,” he called out from the other side of the room, a bit too loudly. You winced at his volume, and he moved closer before parroting himself, this time much quieter. “Hey.”

“Hey,” came your tentative, stiff reply. “What do you want?”

The man in front of your desk cleared his throat, rocking himself back onto his heels as he swung his arms awkwardly. “I, uh, just wanted to apologize.”

“Oh, yeah?” You crossed your arms, cocking one of your eyebrows expectantly. “Go on, then.”

“I’m…” Adrian doubled over groaning, stomping his feet like a petulant child, before righting himself and huffing in an overexaggerated manner. “Ugh, I hate this. Fuck—I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have said those things to you. It was unprofessional.”

Humming, the beginnings of a smirk began to play with the corner of your lips. “Great, thanks. You can go now.”

Adrian stayed rooted to the spot, staring at you blankly.

“What?” you asked him.

He scowled, gesturing to his slightly-crooked nose.

Rolling your eyes to the ceiling, you sighed. “Fine. I’m sorry for punching you. Happy?”

“Yeah, pfft, whatever—doesn’t even hurt,” he bluffed, leaning his weight onto your desk in an effort to appear nonchalant.

You scoffed. “With how you were groaning, you made it sound like I nearly killed you.”

“You’ve got a strong punch, okay?” he heatedly rebutted, before haughtily sticking his sore chin up in the air. After another second of tense silence, he glanced at you from the corner of his eyes, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his fucked-up nose. He coughed into his fist, before muttering, “Honestly, though… it was really fucking hot.”

The dull wooden edge of your desk dug into your lower back as Adrian leaned over you, mouth rough on yours, glasses knocked askew amidst his vigor. One of his hands were buried in your roots at the back of your head, anchoring you close to him, and the other pinned your thighs apart so he could slot between them. Your hands were tightly curled up in the gap between his sweltering skin and his suit’s dark armor, yanking him to bridge the gap between you. His nose brushed your cheekbone every time he surged forward to kiss you—and it sent a mild jolt of pain spidering down his spine, but he didn’t seem to mind it too much, rather preoccupied with other sensations.

Clothes were hastily pulled to the side, sweat beaded both of your foreheads, and strained gasps fell through your lips as he began to move against you.

Neither punching Adrian nor fucking him afterwards were on your agenda for today, but you certainly weren’t complaining. And judging by how loudly he was moaning into the brutal kiss, he wasn’t going to complain, either.

With one final roll of his hips into yours, he bucked forward with a strangled, choking noise as his climax washed over him just when you were pushed off the edge as well, sinking his teeth into the flesh of your shoulder, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

“God, you’re loud,” you panted, snaking your hands to his hair to gently pull him away from the crevice of your neck.

He stared at you with full-blown pupils, delighting in the fact that you were quivering against him ever so slightly. “And you’re so fucking hot.”

“Alright, buddy, we’re done here,” you said, patting his chest, before pushing away and straightening out your wrinkled clothes. “This is the last time this is ever happening, by the way.”

Adrian scoffed, righting his glasses up his nose. “Uh huh, yeah right. Admit it, you just can’t resist me. I’m like the peanut butter to your jelly! The… the chocolate to your pizza!”

Nose wrinkling, you shook your head incredulously. “What? Who the fuck eats chocolate with pizza?”

“Uh, duh, I do,” he replied, as if it were obvious. “It’s amazing—you should really try it. I don’t know, maybe you could come over to my place one day and have some. Nothing beats the perfect ratio of greasy-crispy Hawaiian pizza and Nutella straight from the jar.”

Kiss-swollen lips parting, you leaned against your desk out of interest once again. Adrian was fidgeting with his hands awkwardly and began looking everywhere but you, like he hadn’t just fucked you silly literally a minute ago.

“Are you asking me out?”

“No!” he said. “Maybe.”

You regarded him with a strange look.

“Ugh, yes, fine, I’m asking you out. Well, technically in—I’m asking you into my house. Preferably into my bed—”

“Alright!” you interrupted, holding your hands out. “Fine. Only this one time. But just because you’ve come in me twice by now doesn’t mean you can go on falling in love with me, okay?”

Brightening, Adrian sidled closer to you, the green of his eyes glimmering beneath the flickering lights hanging over your desk. “Don’t worry, that won’t be a problem. If anything, you should watch out for falling in love with me. I’m quite the catch, you know?”

It was hard to suppress the growing grin forming over your lips. “You’ve got the Barbie Girl song as your ringtone.”

“Yeah, and? It’s a good song—super catchy. It’s practically a chick magnet,” he defended, beaming like an idiot.

You rolled your eyes, patting his chest twice, before striding away from both him and your desk, off to go to the bathroom to clean up the sticky mess between your thighs. Adrian watched you go, before repeatedly punching the air with excitement and breaking out into a dance—not to music, but to the buzz of the office’s artificial lights, and the lethargic whir of the semi-broken air conditioner.

From outside, he could hear Chris greet you, and he momentarily paused in his little victory jig.

“Oh, hi, Y/N! Hah, your hair’s all messed up, why do you look like you just had your brains fucked—oh. Oh. God damn it, you guys better not have done it on my desk again!”

#adrian chase x reader #vigilante x reader #peacemaker fanfiction #adrian chase fanfiction #adrian chase smut #adrian chase fluff #adrian chase imagines #peacemaker x reader #adrian chase drabbles #adrian chase x you #vigilante x you #vigilante smut #vigilante peacemaker #vigilante fanfiction #vigilante imagines #vigilante drabbles #peacemaker fluff #peacemaker smut

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plzu · 1 year

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you get the hiccups one day. you don't fret over it, at first, but you rarely get the hiccups, and this one starts to last way longer than you think a hiccup should last.

it makes you miserable.

adrian notices, asks you what's wrong. you hiccup through your explanation, admit you're scared you'll get stuck like this (because wasn't there someone that had the hiccups for years?)

(he thinks he remembers hearing about that story. yikes!)

adrian vows to help you get rid of it, spends the day looking up remedies. he attempts nearly every solution he finds online: times you when you hold your breath; provides you with a paper bag to breath into; gives you water and tells you to pinch your nose while drinking it.

and, in between all of those, he tries scaring you. the element of surprise, and all that. except it doesn't work. you jump a couple of times but end up anticipating by the end of the day, and you hiccup dolefully into the evening.

that is, until adrian has to leave you to scout the night as vigilante. you step out for a late night snack run. on your walk towards to the store, you pass an alleyway. the sound of scuffling makes you pause. glance into the alley at the exact moment vigilante cuts open some guy's throat, your gasp bouncing off the brick walls of the buildings as rivulets of red spill down the dead man's front.

adrian notices you, apologizes profusely from behind his mask--he knows you don't have the stomach for this gore. but then you're laughing, and fuck fuck fuck, he definitely broke you. you're laughing kinda crazy.

"dude," you gasp, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. "you did it. my hiccups are gone."

adrian is delighted; the next time you get the hiccups, you have to stop him from finding someone to murder in front of you.

#adrian chase #adrian chase imagines #work is cray cray today so i am... writing <3 #to cope <3 <3 <3

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 years

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Idk why but wouldn’t it be funny if Adrian (vigilante) had a go at Edward (Dano!riddler) about the whole duck tape shit? Just me? Okay.

#the batman x reader #the batman imagines #the batman imagine #vigilante imagines #vigilante x reader #vigilante imagine #adrian chase fic #adrian chase fanfiction #adrian chase x reader #adrian chase imagine #adrian chase imagines #dano!riddler x reader #Dano!riddler imagines #Dano!riddler imagine #edward nashton x reader #edward nashton imagine #Edward nashton imagines

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redpool · 11 months

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I have an idea for an Adrian Chase fic, but can't write it, any writers want to help??

#adrian chase #adrian chase x reader #peacemaker x reader #peacemaker #adrian chase imagine #adrian chase imagines

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tropes-and-tales · 1 year

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Five Times Vigilante Definitely Does Not Have Feelings (and the One Time He Does)

Characters: Adrian Chase/Vigilante x f!reader

CW: Crude language; yearning.

Word Count: 3982

Adrian Chase will tell anyone: he doesn’t have emotions like people do. He doesn’t feel sad or angry or embarrassed. When Peacemaker gave him the nickname “Thimble,” he certainly didn’t cry. When Peacemaker was sent to prison, he certainly didn’t feel lonely.

Not having emotions is what makes him a more evolved human.

And yet, when ARGUS springs Peacemaker and sets up a black ops outfit in Evergreen, Adrian finds himself toeing the line of feelings. He doesn’t have emotions like people do, but he comes awfully close a handful of times…until he crosses the line entirely.

The Time Vigilante Definitely Does Not Feel Vulnerable

As the Vigilante, Adrian gets hurt all the time. He’s become proficient at stitching up his own wounds. His body is littered with the scars of his own handiwork.

But when Goff tortures him for information, and when the ARGUS team comes to his and Peacemaker’s rescue, he finds himself missing half of a pinkie toe. It’s the most important toe on the human body, and he’ll probably never walk again…and no one seems to care.

Except for you. In the van as they return to headquarters, you sit across from him, watching him as he studies his mangled foot. You murmur something that sounds sympathetic, but he barely hears it over Peacemaker laughing at him.

At headquarters, you look at him and jerk your head in the direction of the back office.

“I can stitch you up, if you want,” you offer.

He starts to shake his head, but the mean blonde woman—Harcourt, her name is—makes an offhand comment about your superior patch-up abilities, so he accepts your help. He limps painfully behind you, follows you into a room that has been converted into a rough sort of exam room and budget clinic.

“Hop up on the table,” you tell him, and even though he doesn’t trust you—or any of your team—he does as you say. It’s clumsy. He hurts in a hundred different places: his half-amputated toe, his electrocuted crotch, all the scrapes and bruises from the fight with Cobra Kai.

“I won’t take off my mask,” he warns you. “I take my secret identity very seriously. If you saw my face, I’d have to kill you.”

“Duly noted,” you reply dryly. “But I only need to see your foot.”

He pulls off his boot and regards his mangled half-pinkie toe sadly. You pull on a pair of latex gloves and turn on a bright lamp, angling it at his bare foot.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” you say as you prod the wound gently. “In fact, you really didn’t lose anything but a couple layers of skin.”

“The blade was as dull as fuck,” he replies.

You wheel your stool over to a cabinet, then pull out some supplies: needle and thread, disinfectant, gauze and tape. Then you wheel back over to him and set to work.

The mean blonde woman was right—you’re quick, efficient. He looks down at your bent head as you stitch him up, and he sees that your needlework is better than his own. He doubts he’ll even have much of a scar once it heals.

But it’s the strange feeling that creeps over him: makes his vision waver, makes him feel a little light-headed. Your hands are deft but also gentle. Adrian can’t remember ever being touched so gently. Maybe when he was really small. Maybe his mom was gentle like that when he was so small that he can’t remember it now. It makes him break out in goosebumps. He shudders at the touch of your warm hand bracing his foot, and you misunderstand the involuntary gesture.

“Almost done,” you murmur, and a moment later you tie off the last stitch and snip the thread. You wrap his toe in gauze, pat his knee softly in a reassuring way. Then you straighten up and ask if there’s any other injuries he needs patched up.

“Goff electrocuted me,” he blurts out. “With a car battery.”

You look at him, level, but the corner of your mouth quirks in a near-smile. “You want me to look at that for you?”

“Oh, no. No. No, I just wanted to mention it. I’m not asking you to look at it.” He’s grateful for the mask; he can feel his face heating up at the idea of taking off his suit in front of you, and the sudden flush confuses him. Irritates him. Something about the thought of being exposed makes his stomach churn in a way he doesn’t understand.

You hum thoughtfully, then turn back to the cabinet of supplies. You rummage around, then pull out a small white tube that you hand him.

“Antibiotic gel for cuts and burns,” you say. “You can put a cool cloth on…well, any burns you may have. If there’s blistering, don’t pop them.”

“Okay.”

“And, you know…if you have any lingering side effects of being electrocuted, you should see a specialist.”

Vigilante reaches down and pulls his boot back on, but already his toe feels better. “What sort of side effects?” he asks.

He looks up at you in time to see that same half-smile. You peel off your gloves, toss them in the trash.

“I can imagine where you were electrocuted,” you reply. “So if those parts don’t typically work the way you’re used to, see a real doctor.”

Adrian Chase is not good at nuance or subtlety. “Huh?”

You blink at him before you say, “if you can’t get or maintain an erection, see a urologist.”

“Oh.” He blinks too, behind his visor. “Okay.”

You turn to leave the room but then glance over your shoulder before you do. “Thanks for your help tonight,” you say. “The mission was a success because of you.”

Neither Vigilante nor Adrian Chase ever get any thanks. He flushes even hotter under his mask, and he grumbles in reply, uncomfortable to be seen, to be recognized for the first time.

To be vulnerable.

The Time Vigilante Definitely Does Not Feel Embarrassed

The next afternoon, he’s at Peacemaker’s trailer, helping him clean up from when the police tossed the place. They are blasting Guns and Roses, drinking beer…it’s like the old days, almost.

A knock at the door then, and Adrian has only a second to pull on his mask before you stroll in.

“Hey, Chris. Vigilante.” You nod in greeting, then reach into your bag to pull out a thick manila folder. You hand it to Peacemaker.

“Murn wanted me to bring this by. It’s the latest intel we got from Goff’s place.”

You stand there as Chris takes the folder and sinks down onto his couch, already paging through the information. Vigilante stands there too, awkward, so he crosses his arms to keep from fidgeting. There’s a long stretch of silence once the Guns and Roses record ends, and Vigilante struggles with silence.

“I got hard last night,” he tells you. “And this morning too.”

“Dude, what the fuck?” Peacemaker sputters. “She doesn’t want to hear that!”

“She mentioned it last night!”

Peacemaker scoffs, twists his face into an expression of disbelief. “Yeah, I’m sure she mentioned your dick last night. Sure. Okay. Fantasize much?”

“She did!”

“You seriously need to get laid, dude. Stop making shit up.”

“He’s not lying,” you tell Peacemaker with a sheepish shrug. “Though I mentioned it in the context of his injuries and not…some other context.”

“See?” Vigilante says, and Peacemaker rolls his eyes, makes a jacking-off motion with his hand.

You don’t linger. You beat a hasty retreat, waving over your shoulder as you leave the trailer, and Peacemaker gives him more hell—calls him weird, calls him annoying.

“No wonder you’ve never had a real girlfriend, dude,” he says as he turns back to his folder of intel. “You say the creepiest shit the minute a cute girl is around.”

Vigilante doesn’t think about it much more until later. That night, in bed, he lies awake for far longer than he usually does. He replays that moment, tries to understand why he just blurted that out.

He wonders if you would have stayed at the trailer longer if he hadn’t been creepy. His face burns in the darkness of his bedroom, and his stomach twists painfully as he replays the moment over and over. He replays his stupid blurting out about his dick, and he has no idea what it means. He never obsesses over his stupid mouth like this.

If he had feelings like other people, he’d recognize the emotion as embarrassment.

The Time Vigilante Definitely Does Not Feel Despondent (and Comforted)

Adrian gets himself arrested on purpose. It’s the best way he can help Chris: get arrested, get booked into the same prison as Chris’ racist supervillain father, then kill said racist supervillain father.

Easy enough. It’d set Chris free and make his life so much better. Allow him to move forward and not be bogged down, like Adebayo said.

Adrian fails. He only manages to make things worse—clues Auggie into his plan accidentally, possibly points law enforcement in Chris’ direction. So Adrian doesn’t just fail—he fails miserably.

He’s released that night. He’s surprised at first, but as he changes back into his clothes and collects his personal effects from the guards, he realizes that ARGUS has its sticky fingers in all sorts of things and probably sprung him with just a few keystrokes.

When he leaves the prison, you’re sitting out front in your car. You lower the passenger window and call out to him.

“C’mon,” you say. “Harcourt sent me to take you home.”

He’s too upset to even feel bad about his cover being blown. He climbs into the car.

“I think I made things worse,” he says, and he tries not to cry. He only wanted to help his best friend (even if he’s not Peacemaker’s best friend). Somehow he messed up, and it could ruin everything.

“Okay,” you reply softly. “It’s okay.”

You drive him home. He doesn’t give you his address, but you know it—another screw-up, he thinks, getting tangled up with people who easily cracked his secret identity. You know his name, his face, where he lives. Some instrument of vengeance he is. You probably even recognize him from his job at Fennel Fields.

Outside of his apartment, you park, then turn to face him. In the half-light from the streetlamps, he can just make out your soft smile.

“This entire ops is nothing but mistakes,” you tell him. “And yet, we’re doing okay. We’ll figure out how to handle Auggie Smith. Don’t worry about it.”

He nods, and something about the barest bit of comfort—paired with your smile—makes him turn to face you too.

“I’m Adrian,” he says, even though you know his name.

Your smile broadens and you say your name, even though he knows it. You hold out your hand and after a beat he takes it.

“Good to finally meet you, Adrian,” you reply as you shake hands.

For whatever reason, as low as he feels, he falls asleep that night with a weird lightness in his chest—because he doesn’t dwell on his failure at the prison.

Instead, he falls asleep with the memory of your smile, your kind words. Your warm hand in his.

The Time Vigilante Definitely Does Not Feel Protective

The attack on Goff’s house yielded some leads, and the team travels three hours away to take out a nest of Butterflies. Everyone is exhausted, filthy, and bruised up.

It’s in the van—you sitting beside Adrian—when you start to nod off. He catches it the first few times, the way your head dips forward, the way you jerk back awake. It’s cute, the way you fight sleep, and then it happens.

You fall asleep and you don’t wake up. Your head drifts towards him, then settles against his shoulder.

Adrian freezes.

He and Peacemaker—they used to go out together, looking for crimes or bitches or both. He’s no virgin. He fucks. He’s no stranger to touch, and he’s certainly no stranger to women. And yet…this feels different. It feels new.

Peacemaker notices. “You got a new girlfriend, dude,” he points out with a laugh.

Harcourt rolls her eyes at the teasing. “Leave her alone. She puts in way more hours than you, asshole.”

“I put in plenty of hours,” he replies, defensive. “It takes a lot of time to maintain this impressive physique. Do you know how long I work on my small muscle groups alone?”

Harcourt rolls her eyes again, then returns her attention to her phone. Peacemaker turns back to where Adrian sits, rigid, as you sleep against him.

“If you get hard, just don’t tell her about it,” he advises the younger man. “You’ll creep her out again.”

It’s strange, the feeling of your head against him. It’s not sexy at all, obviously—in fact, it’s a little uncomfortable. He doesn’t want to move you, doesn’t want to jostle you and wake you up. Harcourt said you’re tired, and you took a hell of a beating as you fought the Butterflies.

Adrian has always approached his work as Vigilante from a perspective of vengeance, not protection, so the feeling is strange: how he wants to let you sleep, how he wants to protect your sleep. How he wants to make you comfortable.

A quiet falls over the team; the swaying of the van lulls everyone into comfortable silence. Adrian breathes in carefully through his nose, then shifts his body. Slowly, carefully. He leans away from you, allows you to lie against him more. He changes the angle enough that he can get his arm out from where it’s trapped between your body and his. He shifts again, gets his arm around you. Gently moves you—changes it from your head awkwardly pressed against his hard molded shoulder pad to your head tucked against his chest.

You wake, a little, as he moves you. You blink up at him sleepily, say his name—Adrian, not Vigilante or Vig or V—and your voice is husky with exhaustion. There’s a questioning lilt to how you say his name, so he shakes his head softly.

“Go ahead and rest,” he says, quiet. “Everything’s fine.”

You nod, then settle back against him. It takes only a moment until he feels your breathing slow down, deepen. He feels your body go heavy and lax against him. Tucked against his chest, his arm holding you against him, he can smell you, feel how warm you are. If he moves his head just a little, he can press his cheek against the top of your head.

Go ahead and rest, he thinks. Everything’s fine. I’ll keep you safe.

Vigilante has always been an instrument of vengeance, but this is the first time he’s felt protective of anyone.

The Time Vigilante Definitely Does Not Feel Fear

The 11th Street Kids have one chance to eradicate the Butterflies forever: if they can kill their only food source, the so-called cow, they will eventually all die off. When they make their final assault on the farm, the team splits up: Adebayo and Economos stay back, while the warriors—Peacemaker, Vigilante, Harcourt, and you—charge into action.

Whether the cow is killed or not, Adrian doesn’t find out until after the battle is over. He fights off the onslaught of Butterflies, but for the first time, his attention isn’t entirely on his own fight.

His attention is on you, now, too.

He manages to keep you in his sightline for the beginning of the fight. He sees you, admires the sight of you when you’re in your berserker mode: furious and deadly, well-fitted black suit, guns flashing as you empty clip after clip into the skulls of the Butterflies.

Then he loses sight of you.

His chest clenches in an unfamiliar tension, and when he finally catches sight of you again, that tight-chest feeling cedes to something else, something worse: an ice-cold shard of fear that lances through him, settles in his gut where it sits like a stone.

When he finally catches sight of you, it’s the exact moment you are shot by a Butterfly.

One shot hits your shoulder, spins you around.

Another shot hits you square in the chest, makes you stagger backwards as the force is absorbed by your vest.

The final shot hits you low in the belly, and Adrian (who has studied your gear closely) knows you have little protection there. The icy fear blooms in him, fills up every bit of him until it feels like it’s in his veins.

He screams your name. He barely even feels the bullet that hits him (“oh, shoot” he mutters, and tosses a knife behind him to kill his own attacker), but then he stumbles and falls, and he loses consciousness.

He wakes a moment later. He has no idea how much time has passed, but he manages to get to his hands and knees, then to his feet. He makes his way to where you fell and he finds you.

It’s bad. It’s so bad that the icy fear turns acidic in his veins, makes him burn with fear. With terror. You gaze up at him but you don’t seem to see him, and each breath makes a fresh pulse of blood trickle from your mouth.

Adrian has never been very good at social situations. He never knows the right thing to say and if he does, he doesn’t know the right time to say it. He wishes these things came more easily to him; if it were Chris here right now instead of him, Chris would know the right thing to say. He’d know how to keep you awake, how to give you comfort.

All Adrian can offer is what you told him the night he got out of prison, when you drove him home. Now, as you lie under the night sky, dying in front of him, as he presses one hand against the worst wound to try and staunch the bleeding, he repeats your words back to him.

“It’s okay,” he says, and he says it over and over and hopes you believe it. “It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

The Time Vigilante Definitely Feels Love

You have no memory of the fight at the farm. The last thing you remember is the drive there, but everything after is a blank. Adebayo stops by when you finally wake up and fills you in on the salient details.

She tells you how Vigilante—who was also shot, who had been blown up earlier in the day—carried you to safety. How he kept you from bleeding out, how he held your very life in his hands and kept you from dying. How hospital security had to separate him from you, once you were laid out on the gurney and being wheeled into surgery.

How he still tried to fight to stay by your side, and how he only failed because of his own injuries and blood loss.

“That man is stupid crazy about you,” Adebayo chuckles with a shake of her head. “I don’t even think he’s really a psychopath.”

You chuckle with her, wince when the action pulls at the thousand stitches and staples that are keeping you held together. “He’s not bad, right?”

“We’re literally the Island of Misfit toys,” she replies. “But yeah, he’s alright.”

-----

Adrian is hospitalized too, and once he’s healed up to a point, he starts sneaking into your room to visit. It’s not really sneaking—every time he undoes his IV and heart monitor, it sends the nurses into a panic—but after Adebayo’s press conference revealing the existence of Task Force X, the hospital staff is pretty tolerant of his harmless shenanigans.

He helped ward off an alien invasion, after all. You both did.

You have to agree with Adebayo. You’ve never quite believed that Adrian is a psychopath or a sociopath or whatever. You certainly never believed him when he said he didn’t have feelings or emotions. The guy is nothing but a walking ball of emotions: obvious love for his friends, a yearning to belong, a sweet desire to be liked and included. Sure, he kills without compunction, but he seems to love in equal measure, even if he doesn’t believe he does.

When he visits you, he doesn’t talk about feelings. He chatters endlessly about his and Peacemaker’s exploits—criminals they’ve busted, ways they’ve destroyed old appliances in the woods behind Peacemaker’s trailer. He talks about how it was when Peacemaker was in prison, how he kept calling and leaving voicemails to make it seem like everything was normal. He talks about his job at Fennel Fields, all the terrible customer service stories he has.

He discharges himself against the advice of the doctors (he’s healed enough, he tells you), and you think he’ll stop visiting, but he doesn’t. He visits every day still, and when you start physical therapy to build up the muscle tone and endurance you’ve lost, he sits in a nearby chair, watching you. Cheering you on.

Adebayo wasn’t wrong. You know Adrian has feelings for you. You’re more socially adept than him, and you’ve had relationships before. You’ve had crushes and been the object of them. You guessed his infatuation early on, and you can guess that it’s only grown for him since then.

It probably confuses him, you guess. You know what love feels like. What a crush feels like. All that feeling, in so many places: the fluttery stomach, the pounding heart, the thoughts that just circle ‘round and ‘round about a single person.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t have similar feelings for him. He’s easy on the eyes, sure—but he’s earnest and sweet, a brutal killer with a heart of gold.

You can also guess that Adrian might never make a move. This has to be unfamiliar territory for him. You know he’s no virgin (he’s chattered endlessly about his and Peacemaker’s exhaustive threesomes too), but he seems to have no relationship experience.

But your entire short working relationship with him has been give and take. You stitched him up, comforted him when he was feeling low after his failed attempt to kill Auggie Smith. He let you rest against him, held you gently as you slept after a mission. He saved your life, kept you from bleeding out.

Give and take. The best kind of relationship, in your opinion.

“Hey, Adrian,” you say one afternoon after PT. You’re exhausted and sore, but you’re quickly approaching your own discharge. You are healing up nicely. You have things to look forward to.

“What’s up?” he asks, and he bounces over to your bedside like a Golden Retriever puppy, eager.

“Doctor says I’m good to go in a few days.”

“That’s great!” His face breaks open in a wide grin that transforms him from nerdy-handsome to downright gorgeous. “That’s good news!”

You swallow, push down the nerves that flare up. “I thought maybe we could celebrate.”

“Yeah!” He grins at you. “I can call Chris—”

“I thought maybe just me and you,” you cut in, clarifying. “Just this time. Maybe we include Chris some other time.”

“Oh.” The smile falls from his face, and he looks at you. His brows are knit in confusion.

No sense in backtracking now. “Like a date. Would you like to go on a date with me?”

“Oh.” A beat. “With me? Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

What you’re asking him finally sinks in—a beat longer than it might with someone else, but that’s just part of Adrian’s charm. The smile returns to his face, brighter and wider than before.

“Yeah,” he replies. “Hell yeah, dude. I’d love that.”

#adrian chase #adrian chase imagine #adrian chase x reader #vigilante #vigilante imagine #vigilante x reader #peacemaker #tropes-and-tales

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multifandomfanficss · 1 month

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F*ck You?

Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Reader

and the rest of the 11th Street Kids

Adrian Chase Masterlist

Prompt: Adrian has his own secret way of asking you to sleep with him.

Warnings: Mentions of sex, but no actual sex. The team bullying Adrian as per cannon ☹️. Peacemaker typical language.

A/N: Just a silly little thought I had at 5am during a text convo with one of my best friends when I couldn’t sleep. Shout out Tyler for letting me bounce this idea off you. Thanks bestie! Just a short little fic. The italics are flashbacks. Crossposting on my AO3 adriansglasses.

Adrian stuck his middle finger up, pointed at you. You were going through some files on the other side of the room unable to see him behind the papers you were focusing on. Those who saw were giving him questioning looks.

“Dude why are you flipping off, (Y/N)? I didn’t realize you were mad at them” Economos decided to be the first to question him. Usually he didn’t care enough to ask, but even he was curious as to why Adrian was enthusiastically flipping you off.

“Oh! That’s because I’m not. I just wanna have sex when we get back to my apartment. I was saying can I fuck you.” Adrian says, as if it’s obvious. Chris begins to laugh, having overheard the conversation.

“Oh my god. I’m not sure if you’re insane or an idiot.” Harcourt rolls her eyes, walking away.

“I’m pretty sure he’s both. You know that’s not what that means right?” Economos questions.

“It has two meanings.” Adrian says in a very matter of fact way.

“No, it doesn’t.” John argues.

“Then how do they always know what I mean?” Adrian asks, as if he’s proving his point.

Chris continues to laugh to himself as Adrian and Economos argue.

You’re deep in thought, not paying them any attention when Leota passes you the file you were looking for.

“Thanks!” You smile at her.

“Why is Adrian flipping you off?” She asks.

You look over at him, blushing. You nod.

“See!” Adrian yells throwing up his arms. “Two meanings! I told you!”

“Oh god.” You blush, hiding your face in one of the files. You didn’t need the entire team knowing you were going home to have sex after this, but it’s not like it was that big of a surprise. You’d been dating Adrian for a while, of course you had a sex life. “I don’t know how or why he got it into his head that fuck you means can I fuck you- but like I personally think it’s very clever and very cute so I just don’t correct him.” You laugh, deciding to be honest with Leota.

You thought back to the first time he flipped you off in such a manner. You were out with the team celebrating with drinks after a mission. He threw up his middle finger, drawing a question mark in the air with the other hand. You looked at him with a confused look and mouthed. ‘Are you asking me to have sex with you?’ and he mouth back, ‘Isn’t it obvious?’. Only Adrian could think something like that was obvious. Only Adrian would even do something like that. You smiled, laughing quietly to yourself. It was so uniquely him.

Chris was still laughing uncontrollably in the back. He was thinking of the first time he’d seen Adrian do this too. Little did everyone else know Chris had been the one to teach it to him long before you were dating.

“You really wanna know how I pick up chicks across the bar?” Chris asked with a shit eating smirk.

“Please!” Adrian begged. He could pull girls as Vigilante no problem, but it was a lot harder without the suit.

“Be direct. Just ask if she wants to go home with you. The most subtle way to be direct is to flip her off.” Chris falsely informs.

“Wait… you want me to be subtle and direct? I’m confused.” Adrian asks.

“Well, yeah. You want her to know, not the whole bar.” Chris quickly lies.

“I always thought flipping somebody off was an insult.” Adrian is rightfully cautious.

“It has two meanings. It’s like special. Special can mean you’re one of a kind, cool, awesome, or it could be used the other way.” Chris explains.

“Oh! Okay!” Adrian smiles, before pausing, with a pondering facial expression. “Wait! You call me special all the time.”

“You should hit on that girl over there!” Chris redirects.

“Okay… here goes nothing…” Adrian says, slowly raising his middle finger. The girl looks shocked and starts to walk up to the two men at the bar. “Oh wow! I think it worked!”

Her pace picks up. She walks up to Adrian, slapping him, hard.

“Wait! This is positive! I’m hitting on you!” Adrian says frantically with his finger still up, as she walks away.

“Aw! Fuck! Do you think maybe she had a boyfriend?” Adrian asks, adjusting his glasses and rubbing his jaw.

“Yeah, maybe.” Chris laughs hysterically.

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scarletttries · 6 months

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Adrian Chase/ Vigilante Fluff Alphabet (Peacemaker)

Pairing: Adrian Chase/ Vigilante (Peacemaker) x GN!Reader

Rating: Pure Fluff

Word Count: 4.3k

Author's Note: Back to the boy that made me start writing again after years of stopping! 😍 I've been struggling to write while i've been busy with a new job and a bit of a cold, so I thought I'd go back to my best boy Vigilante for another alphabet post and just like that my heart was racing for him again 💕Enjoy and let me know if you have any Vigilante HCs requests 🥳

a -affection (how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?)

The moment Adrian gets the green light to show affection to you, that's all he can think of. He is such a physical person, always finding a reason to place a hand on your back or waist in public, and pulling you into his arms and threatening to never let you go after you have to spend mere moments apart. Behind closed doors, Adrian is constantly showering your face and hands with kisses, and there's no way he can sleep without a long slow good night kiss. He's also all about the sickly sweet nicknames and praising you for everything you do for him, just so endlessly grateful that he gets to call you his.

b - beauty (what do they admire about their s/o? what do you think is beautiful about them?)

It sounds like a cliche, but honestly he thinks you have the most beautiful eyes. He's never been a big fan of eye contact, finding it challenging to maintain, and when he manages usually people are looking at him with such an unkind mix of pity, disgust and contempt that he'd rather they weren't looking at him at all. But when he locks eyes with you and sees kindness, and interest, and not a single ounce of judgement, he knows that he never wants to look away from your perfect face, not for a second. And when he gets to see your eyes crease in the corners when he makes you smile and laugh with his ridiculous behaviour, well he thinks you are somehow even more beautiful.

There's a lot to consider beautiful about Adrian, his muscles, his adorable hair, his little nerdy smile when you start to pay attention to him, honestly there's nothing about him you'd ever want to change.

c- cuddles (do they like to cuddle? how would they cuddle?)

Adrian likes to cuddle so much he wonders how he survived before you came into his life! The first time the two of you watch a movie together and you throw a blanket over you both, laying your legs over his lap and nuzzling against his chest, you could practically hear his heart hammering away in excitement, so happy to be there with you and so scared he would do something to ruin such a happy moment. Now that he's more comfortable about your relationship he's definitely the one to instigate, collapsing into bed with his arms wide open and whimpering until you land on his chest, his whole body encircling yours as he kisses the top of you and tells you're stuck there now.

d - dates (what are dates with them like? do they plan them out or are they spontaneous?)

Adrian is definitely more of the spontaneous type who'll turn up at your door unannounced with a bouquet of flowers or a crate of beer, and ask if you'll please go out with him tonight, and offer that's hard to refuse when he gives you those big pleading puppy dog eyes. Dates are a lot of fun, usually doing something a bit more silly and childish than the typical dinner and a movie. He'll take you to an arcade, or a bar with a mechanical bull and try and show off his skills for you, but sometimes the best dates are just nights at home with wine and takeout, where you realise that it's suddenly 3am and you've ended up in a blanket fort on the floor and decide to just spend the night there - you two would be happy just about anywhere as long as you're together.

e - ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

In the past Adrian hasn't exactly had a lot of dating experience, but if someone showed an interest in him and he didn't feel the same way, he'd be very blunt about it - not necessarily as sensitive as he should be, but making sure there is absolutely no room for misunderstanding.

f - fiancee (how do they feel about commitment? how quick would they want to get married?)

Deep down (like way deep down before he meets you) Adrian is a real hopeless romantic. You've seen how much friendship means to him, and he knows being married is like having the closest of best friends, to love you forever, and who wants to be your friend for the rest of your life. He can't imagine anything more special than that, but he's also never had someone he felt like he could picture that kind of relationship with. Then of course you come into his life and fill it with kindness and laughter and warmth and suddenly he struggles to keep the l-word from falling of his lips every time you hold his hand, and he starts keeping a ring in his pocket for the moment he's at least 50% sure you might say yes.

g - gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Despite a violent streak and almost superhuman strength, Adrian would be so incredibly soft and gentle when it comes to you. He knows what it's like to have you feelings hurt again and again and he never wants to make you feel as awful as he does when he speaks to someone other than you. He'd make sure he never delivered his snark in your direction, and is quick to tell you how smart your ideas are, supporting you in whatever you want to do. Physically he'd try and be conscious of his strength too, holding your hand very softly, and giving only the nicest, gentlest touches to your face when the two of you kiss. Sometimes he'll get a little too excited though and lift you into the air, throwing you against a bed or pulling you into a hug that threatens to take your breath away.

h - hugs (do they like hugs? how often do they do if? what are their hugs like?)

Adrian loves when you hug him so so much. The first time he feels you wrap your arms over his shoulders and pull him against your chest, a lump forms in his throat and he's not sure why, everything feeling so overwhelming as you tell him you're glad he came back from a mission safely. He'd think of nothing else for days, considering putting himself in increasingly dangerous situations just so you might have a reason to hug him. In the end he decides to just walk into your arms the next time he sees you, and surely enough you respond by giving him a firm squeeze and stroking his head as it rests on your shoulder. He'll always be asking for hugs now that you two are item, pulling you into his arms if he thinks it's been too long since you last gave him his fix.

i - injury (how would they act if they got hurt?)

At first when Adrian gets hurt around you, he plays it off as if he barely notices it, wanting to seem cool and tough and making sure you don't feel too worried about him. Even when he's bragging about how quickly he'll be healed up and back to normal, you still insist on cleaning up his cuts, and as you gently lift his chin with your finger and take such precious care delicately cleaning any wounds that haven't healed themselves yet, he'll kick himself for not letting you do this more often, being the focus of your attention, his favourite place to be. He'll quickly start acting like more and more of a baby when he gets hurt, insisting that you and only you patch him up, working up the nerve to ask you to kiss that little cut on his lip better.

When you get hurt, holy shit does this boy panic. He doesn't know how serious any pain is in someone who doesn't heal like him, so he constantly offers to drive you to the hospital, not calming down until you give him a little task to do instead so he can feel helpful.

j - jealousy (how jealous do they get? what do they do when they're jealous?)

Despite being such an objectively incredibly gifted person physically, Adrian has had a tough time making people like him in his life, which leaves him feeling pretty insecure about himself. So when he sees someone he thinks is a lot more 'normal' than him talking to you, he can't help but feel distraught that they can offer you a better life than he ever could. He thinks he is the luckiest person in the world for having landed someone as perfect as you, so it makes sense that his luck would run out at some point, forcing himself to at least slink over and find out a bit more about the person that's come to take you away from him. When you feel him approach, looking a bit sorry for himself, you make sure to tug his arm around your waist and introduce him as your boyfriend with the proudest smile you can, watching as his eyes brighten at the sound of your voice and a matching smile grows on his cheeks as he plants a huge kiss on yours.

Thankfully Adrian is probably too oblivious for anyone else to flirt with him, so you'll only experience jealousy when he talks devotedly about Peacemaker.

k- kisses (what are their kisses like? where do they like to be kissed?)

Oh my god, the first time you kiss Adrian, the vigilante has never been more caught off guard in his life. It doesn't matter how much flirting you've done, how many times your loving gaze has flicked between his eyes and his lips, the moment you press a soft, sweet peck to his little pouting lips, his brain is completely shutting down. Even the slightest kiss is so special to him that he thinks it's more likely you did it by accident than you actually want him to kiss you too. It will take you explicitly explaining that you have feelings for him and that you want to kiss him before he feels able to kiss you too, and by then he's smiling so widely he needs ten minutes to calm down before he even can.

Once you pass the newfound territory of little pecks whenever he sees you, moving to more intimate, open-mouthed, fingertips trailing through hair, full-bodied kissing behind closed doors, Adrian is like a man possessed. His usually very active mouth is finally quiet long enough to capture yours, pulling you into his lap where he can feel your full weight lean against him, a hungry marathon of sloppy kisses capturing your lips, moaning against you in overwhelming excitement. You can try and move your lips to his neck and mark him as your own, but as much as he loves the feelings of you bruising his skin, he finds himself whimpering until he can taste your sweet kiss again.

l - love language (what is their love language?)

Adrian likes to show and receive love through touch, the way he constantly keeps a hand on you as a reminder he's nearby and watching your back is his way of showing love all day. And when you lean in for a kiss and place your hand on his thigh, his heart feels like it's being wrapped in a soft woolen blanket, letting him know how much you truly care for him.

He loves to do little acts of service for you as well, like tidying things up around you if you've cooked him dinner, or picking something up on his way over to you because you mentioned being low of it last time he visited - he feels so at home with you, that he wants you to feel like your home is better for him being a part of it.

As well as the undeniable thrill he gets from the way you touch him, he's also a real sucker for words of affirmation. He's rarely been on the receiving end of kind words, and the important people in his life often seem embarrassed to acknowledge him and admit to knowing him, so when you unashamedly say you love him in front of the whole team, or call him your boyfriend when you pick him up from his day job, or tell him that something he's done is good and helpful, he feels over the moon and loved to his core.

m - mornings (how are mornings spent with them?)

Adrian feels like the kind of guy who is constantly a ball of pure energy. He wakes up fully alert and stacked to the brim with enthusiasm when he opens his eyes and has woken up next to his favourite person in the whole world. He wants so desperately to be considerate and let you rest, but he can't stop himself from practically vibrating with glee at the mere sight of you. He'll leave it as long as he can take it before he gently traces a finger over your skin, his heart fluttering from the tiny bit of contact before finally your eyes flutter open to the biggest smile you've ever seen. Once you're awake be prepared to get tackled into a huge hug, his mouth suddenly racing at a thousand words a minute telling you how much he missed you while he was asleep and how pretty you are in the morning and how even your snoring is cute. He could happily stay in bed with you forever, so you'll have to be the one to drag him out of bed and into the kitchen for breakfast, where he'll continue clinging to you for dear life.

n - nights (how are nights spent with them?)

Adrian's always been a night owl, given so much of his patrols and missions take place at night. He much prefers the nights he spends with you though, trying to find a few hours of peace in an otherwise chaotic life. He likes that it's time that the two of you usually get to spend alone together, curled up in each other's arms with no plans you don't want and nowhere else you need to be except together. When you two crawl into bed, he loves to lay in the dark and just look at your features in the dimmest of moonlight, telling you his silliest thoughts, and some of the deep ones he feels too vulnerable to say with the lights on, never letting you fall asleep without a reminder of how much you mean to him and how much happier his life is with you in it.

o - open (when would they start revealing things about themselves? do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Adrian has absolutely no filter when it comes to talking about his life, telling you everything you want to know, and a bunch of stuff you didn't even ask long before the two of you have even been on a date. In his mind, you're one of the first people that's ever seemed genuinely interested in him, and he wants to make the most of that before he inevitably reveals something about himself that will scare you off like he does with everyone else. The one thing he'd struggle to come out and tell you initially is just how much you mean to him. The feelings are so new and scary that he's sure there's no way you could feel the same, so you would have to be the one to put yourself out there and let him know he's bewitched your whole heart.

p - patience (how patient are they usually? what tends to wear their patience thin?)

Thanks to all his training, patrolling, staking out locations, and worst of all having to work in a restaurant, Vigilante is surprisingly patient. He's more than happy to wait forever if it makes things less stressful for you, and he'd give up every second of his time to help you do something, he really is just that devoted. He only starts to get impatient when the two of you are apart, and it feels like his soul is aching to get back to your arms.

q - quality time (how do they like to spend with you?)

At first Adrian feels a lot of pressure to always be having the exciting kind of fun with you, suggesting lots of different date ideas and never wanting you to have a dull moment around him. It would take a bit of work for you to have him get used to just spending a night in with you, cuddled up together and doing very little, finally getting the idea in his head that you could never get bored of him. He still prefers to go out for dates with you most of the time, loving sitting at a bar or diner with someone who only wants to be with him, but that doesn't mean he doesn't adore the days the two of you spend every hour just talking in bed about nothing.

r - remember (what is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

Because of the need to protect his identity, most of Adrian's interactions (even some of the most intimate ones) have been from behind his helmet, leaving him feeling a lot less confident in his face than he is in the rest of his body. Given you met him as Vigilante first, he was worried that you were disappointed the first time you saw the face under his mask, unable to read your expression by the time he put his glasses back on. He'd be very happy that your feelings for him grew despite that, but there would always be a voice in the back of his head that thought you liked him better with his helmet on.

So the first time the two of you were locked in your usual prolonged make out sessions and you hinted at going further than kissing, he immediately made the offer before you could ask for it;

"Do you want me to put my helmet back on?" The question would stop you dead in your tracks, trying to read his almost apologetic expression as you replied.

"That would make it pretty difficult to kiss you." You watched his eyes drift down to your lap as he struggled to make his case.

"But it means you only have to look at the best parts of me." His muscles seem to flex beneath you as if to assume that's what you want from him, the parts of him he can't work out feeling like a short-coming.

"I think every part of you is the best Adrian." His eyes snap up at your words, searching your gaze for deception or mocking and finding nothing but sweetness. "And I love your face." You trace a finger over his features as if considering each one and coming to only the happiest conclusion, "I like your eyes, and your glasses, and your nose, and your smile, and you're a good kisser, so overall your face is pretty damn important to me." With each soft touch he feels years of insecurity melt away, any self doubt dissolving under your loving gaze until he can't stand to not be kissing you a second longer, lifting you into his arms as he does and carrying towards the bedroom as quickly as his legs can manage after you've all but turned them to jelly.

s - security (how protective are they? how would they protect you? how would they like to be protected?)

Adrian knows just how dangerous the world can be (although a big chunk of that danger comes from him personally) so he would feel incredibly protective of you from the first time you met. He likes being able to use his strength and skills to keep you safe, and make you feel like you're secure as long as he's around you, wanting to give you every reason to keep him close. He'd insist on escorting you everywhere he could, keeping an arm around you once he feels able to touch you that way. He feels especially lucky when you let him sleep over and he can watch over you while you sleep, making sure you have only the sweetest dreams.

It may not feel like you can do too much to protect a man like Vigilante, but everything you do makes him feel like nothing in the world can get to him. Your loving words and supportive encouragement protect him from the cruel teasing of others, and he knows that his sensitve heart is safe now that it belongs to you.

t - try (how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Adrian's waited a long time to have someone finally feel the way you do about him, and he would want to go out of his way every single day to show you how much he appreciates it. His efforts might sometimes come from a strange direction or be a bit misguided, but you will never feel like he takes you for granted, and he'll never be the kind to let an occasion pass without marking it. He'd love putting in effort every day with you, because the domestic life the two of you build together would make him so happy that doing the smallest jobs in your little home would feel like such an honour.

u - upset (how do they act when you're upset? how do they act when they're upset?)

Vigilante doesn't get upset very often, so when he does it's very easy to notice. The big warning sign is that he'll get very quiet, a real contrast to his usual monologue of adoration. He doesn't usually tell you what's wrong until you ask, worried about burdening you with something silly, but when you pull his head against your chest and rub his back softly, all his feelings will come pouring out, suddenly feeling so much lighter when he has your reassurance.

When you're upset Adrian is very quick to assume he's done something wrong, so he would be very quick to try and make up for it. It would be hard to stay sad about anything as he runs around desperately parading gifts in front of you and telling all his worst jokes until eventually you reassure him that you still love him and that it's something else bothering you, at which point he would collapse and cuddle you and make sure you had all your favourite things for as long as you need. (although the jokes don't stop)

v - vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?)

Adrian's owned the same four outfits for his entire adulthood and never really thinks about the way he looks out of his vigilante costume. He works out a lot and feels pretty good about that, but when you gently push his glasses up the bridge of his nose first thing in the morning, leaving a kiss of the bridge of it and beaming up at him, he'd start to feel pretty good about his looks too.

w - wildcard (a random headcanon for them.)

One of Adrian's favourite things in the world is when you come and pick him up from his day job at Fennel Fields. Sometimes he feels like his colleagues think he's a weird loser and he can't tell them anything else about himself for fear of giving his identity today (since he's kind of terrible at lying) so he can start to feel quite down about himself when he has his shifts there. Luckily all it takes is a split second glimpse of you as he's clearing his final tables for the day, and suddenly he feels like the biggest hero in the galaxy, racing to get finished so he can practically sprint out the door and into your arms. Sure it doesn't hurt if his colleagues see that he has an incredible partner who cares enough about him to come meet him after work, but what they think stops mattering to him the second he's basking in the light of your presence.

x - x-ray (how easily are they able to read you?)

He's reasonably oblivious when it comes to reading just about anyone, and unfortunately that can apply to you too. You have to be pretty careful about telling him when you're being sarcastic or when he's done something you don't like, but luckily he's very quick to ask questions and check in with how you are, so the two of you would quickly find the best way to communicate.

y - yuck (what things do you do that they hate?)

Sometimes Adrian worries about the way you see the best in people, his black and white view of the world telling him that most people can't be trusted. That and when you break even the tiniest law (jaw-walking, speeding slightly, parked on double yellows for five seconds to pick him up) and he'd have to face his own hypocrisy because he knows he could never punish you.

z - zzz (what is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Adrian wakes up a lot in the night because of how alert he is all the time. He tries to be careful about waking you, but sometimes when he gets up in his head worrying that something will happen to you and he can't get back to sleep, he'll shake you gently by the shoulder until you turn around and let him burrow under the blankets to lie against your chest, suddenly feel so much more at rest when your arms are wrapped around him, sleepily stroking over his back.

#writing #fanfiction #requests #one shot #adrian chase smut #adrian chase x y/n #adrian chase x reader #adrian chase imagines #adrian chase #peacemaker headcanons #peacemaker #peacemaker vigilante #vigilante imagines #vigilante x reader #vigilante smut #vigilante #vigilante fluff #adrian chase fluff

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training4theapocalypse · 1 year

Text

On Her Majesty’s Supersonic Service (Adrian Chase x Reader) Ch. 4

Chapter 4 No Time to Cry

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only

Word Count: 9.9K

Warnings: SMUT (less than usual tho), Plot with a little bit of porn, Mostly fluff, Moving the plot along, Romance, Descriptions of murder, Descriptions of violence, Descriptions of injury, P in V, Praise, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: It’s time to kill the cow. Adebayo reveals two secrets. Adrian is being Adrian and having the best time mass-murdering butterflies.

A/N: IT'S EARLY!! This is mostly plot and I am obsessed with tying things into canon. There’s some pretty graphic injury description and some totally made-up medical bullshit that I hope you can get past. Thanks so much to @stealsteels for your encouragement to get me over the finish line.

Tagging because I think you might like it: @ladymacbeth1987 , @likeficsinthewnd

Masterlist

Chapter text:

The van is gone from the motel car park, and all signs of Peacemaker and Economos have gone with it.

“Go with the others. I’ll find Peacemaker.”

The sun still hasn’t risen but the orange glow of the streetlights is bright enough for Adrian to see you chewing your lip worriedly in the passenger seat of his car.

“Unless we hear different, stick to the plan. We’ll meet at the ranch.” His earnest green eyes meet yours. “I promise.”

You breathe deeply to calm your nerves. Usually, you’re exhilarated before a mission- ready to fight. But that was before you had something to lose.

“C’mon, it’ll be great! We’ll kill the cow, dish out the same ass-kicking as usual, and drive off into the sunset.”

You’re unconvinced.

“Like Thelma and Louise!”

Now you’re even less convinced. You pull out your phone and text him.

Blackbird: You know they kill themselves at the end of that movie, right? xx

His phone pings, and he reads your message. “What? No way!”

Blackbird: There’s a freeze frame as they drive their car into the Grand Canyon xx

“I don’t think so. I think their car took off and started flying away like at the end of Grease.”

You raise your eyebrows but don’t argue any further. Instead, you study every detail of his profile hungrily as he enthusiastically tells you how the movie’s ending can be perceived differently. His curly hair, still a little messy from spending the night in the sleeping bag, the dimples at the corners of his mouth when he smiles, the way he adjusts his wire rimmed glasses- you try to memorise it all.

You lean over to kiss him goodbye. You grip the chest plate of his suit, pulling him closer to you. You try and put a lot of meaning into the kiss- words left unspoken that you probably wouldn’t have the emotional capacity to vocalise even if you physically could. An assurance that you’ll meet later. A promise that you’ll both live long enough to see tomorrow.

You pull back before he does, preemptively avoiding the possibility of getting lost in the kiss. His face is lit up with excitement.

“We’re saving the world- it’s gonna be fun! Well, for me. I know this is, like, your day job.”

He points at a billboard across the street displaying an array of supercars- Evergreen Exotic Car Rentals. “And then that’ll be you and me tomorrow, cruising down the highway in a Corvette.”

You give him what you hope is an optimistic smile- even though your insides are squirming. Then, you climb out of his car and walk quickly towards your motel without looking back so you don’t have to watch his Sebring drive off into the dawn.

As you pass Adebayo’s room, you can distinctly hear the sound of her and Harcourt in a heated argument. Just what we need at 5 am on the day of the mission.

You knock on the door.

“Who is it?” comes Harcourt’s aggressive bark.

Slowly, you open the door and peer around the corner. Harcourt and Adebayo look relieved at your familiar face for a split second before turning on each other again.

“You were gonna lone-shooter the poor bastard?” Harcourt demands.

“He has a history of instability and conspiratorial beliefs. Couple that with violent outbursts- he was the best choice of the two options.”

Your eyes dart between the two of them. What the fuck is going on?

Harcourt sees your confusion. “Adebayo did it. She planted the diary in Peacemaker’s trailer.”

Adebayo?

“That’s why Peacemaker was chosen in the first place,” says Adebayo by way of explanation.

“And that’s it?” asks Harcourt. “Cut the shit and tell her who else was chosen expressly for this mission.”

No. Your stomach drops. Adrian was just a tag-along- he wasn’t even meant to be part of this team.

Adebayo tosses a book in your direction which you catch mid-air.

A black, leather-bound notebook with the UK Government coat of arms embossed on the front in silver.

Not Adrian.

Hands trembling, you open it up. There’s your name written on the inside cover in your handwriting.

You flick through, eyes skimming over pages upon pages of diary entries. Conspiracies about a secret society of aliens in America controlling Her Majesty’s Secret Service and how you’re going to eradicate them yourself. Paragraphs about how you’re not in control of your powers. All easily corroborated with dates and times of places you’ve been, emails you’ve sent and texts to your boss.

Your eyes sting as you read how they’ve described your loneliness since your accident. Some of it they got right. How much you hate having powers (even if they are useful), how you wish you could talk again and how, more than anything, all you want is someone to confide in. It seals the narrative of a very unwell, isolated woman who’d be desperate enough to commit mass murder.

They really did do the thing properly. You had always assumed MI6 had access to your messages, but you honestly have to applaud the handwriting expert- it’s uncanny.

But… Adebayo? You swallow the lump in your throat and look at her pleadingly. Tell me it isn’t true.

She shakes her head.

“You were the preferred choice. Win-win for MI6 and A.R.G.U.S. MI6 lets you take the blame for the murders; they stage an inquest into the actions of a single employee and get off lightly. Nobody needs to find out how close we came to being invaded by the butterflies. And in return, they get rid of a renegade agent.”

Get rid of? Wait… renegade? You look up and try to catch her eye. What does she mean by that?

“Waller, on the other hand…” Adebayo continues to look away uncomfortably. “Waller keeps A.R.G.U.S out of it completely and gets herself a new member of the Suicide Squad.”

This was never a mission to win the favour of MI6 again. You were their scapegoat. And to Amanda Waller - a new weapon.

You lower yourself onto Adebayo’s sofa in shock.

“They were your fucking friends.” Harcourt’s tone is the coldest you’ve ever heard her. “How did you choose? How could you possibly manage to choose which soldier to sell to Waller?”

“It wasn’t a choice- it could only be Peacemaker because Blackbird’s story didn’t make any fucking sense anymore!”

Adebayo looks between you, like it’s obvious.

“Everyone’s seen the way she’s been skipping around with Vigilante. Everyone in this team has seen you guys literallyscrewing around. The texts don’t match the diary anymore.” She looks at you sadly. “Before you met Vigilante, the last message you sent that wasn’t about work was over a month ago. And it was your fucking landlord!”

Before you can hide it, a single tear runs down your cheek as you stare at her in disbelief.

Of course. Now your messages are filled with flirting and two little x’s. And there’s fun and laughter in the 11th Street Kids group chat. No evidence that would hold up at an inquest.

Adrian… Adrian inadvertently stopped you from being thrown into jail with a nano bomb implanted in the base of your neck. And Harcourt made it all possible by adding you to that group.

Air. You need to leave.

You gesture to Harcourt, excusing yourself. Then, you open the door and are face-to-face with Murn.

“Guess what? Adebayo planted Peacemaker’s diary and had another ready for Blackbird to take the fall,” Harcourt calls over your shoulder.

“Only because my mother made me!”

What the…?

“Holy fuck! Your mother is Amanda Waller?”

“Yes, I figured her mother had her do it,” says Murn.

You give Murn a curt nod and blow past him, not waiting to hear the rest of the conversation. You can’t process this right now. You need to call your boss and have her tell you straight.

Your boss.

As you descend the motel stairs, it dawns on you that she hasn’t messaged you once since you landed in Washington. She doesn’t want the paper trail to show she knows you’re here.

What a cunt.

You let out a small groan of frustration, setting off a car alarm. You head around the back of the motel and video-call her. It rings out.

Blackbird: You were going to Suicide Squad me?!

The message is marked as read. She doesn’t respond.

Blackbird: Fuck you.

You grip your phone and consider throwing it against the wall but then-

BANG. BANG. BANG.

The unmistakable sound of gunshots coming from the motel startles you.

You pull your gun out and tiptoe back around the corner. Police cars- three of them. Silently you watch as half a dozen butterflies in police officers’ bodies exit Adebayo’s room.

Not good.

Your finger hovers over the trigger. You’re reasonably confident you could take them all on your own… but you heard three gunshots - you have no idea if Murn, Adebayo and Harcourt are even alive. As far as you know, you could be the last one left to take down the cow.

Then you see her. Detective Song. The queen who used to be Goff. The one who brutally tortured Adrian. Blinding rage vibrates through your very being as you leap out from your hiding spot and scream at the top of your lungs.

A sonic shockwave is sent across the car park- several butterflies are sent flying backwards. Song manages to sprint out of reach and yells for the others to cover her.

“You tried to cut off my boyfriend’s toe, you bitch!”

You’re going to torture her, you decide. And you’re going to enjoy it.

The shockwave sends debris flying across the car park, and you hear the sound of the windows on the ground floor of the motel shattering. The fear in Song’s eyes as she watches you walking towards them spurs you on. The atmosphere above shifts as you breathe in and let out another ear-splitting scream.

The heads of the three nearest butterflies explode into bloody pulps. Parked cars are blasted into the air and come down violently onto the concrete, narrowly missing the remaining butterflies.

Song turns and runs for her life. You’re quick on her heels but are thwarted when you need to duck and cover behind an overturned car as her associates start firing at you. The three of them run towards a police car in the distance, shooting over their shoulders.

Fuck.

You jump out from behind the car and chase after them, as fast as possible. But it’s too late. The engine of the police car starts, and rubber squeals on the road as they speed off into the distance.

“Oh my god, my car...” says Adebayo.

“And mine...” echoes Harcourt sounding shell-shocked.

They’re alive. You whip round to face them. They don’t look good- Adebayo has a gash on her forehead, Harcourt’s nose is bloody, and her face is streaked with tears.

“We heard you screaming but our hands were tied with Judomaster. And Murn…” She chokes and blinks up at the sky. “Murn’s dead.”

Your hand flies to your mouth, and you point at the motel room. Judomaster killed Murn?

“It was Goff. I mean, Song,” says Adebayo.

Harcourt takes a moment to compose herself and straighten her jacket. “We need to find the others. None of them are answering their phones. But what are we gonna do?” She looks at the overturned cars. “Get some Uber driver to go around aimlessly looking for them?”

The three of you look around the parking lot despairingly until your eyes fall on a billboard in the distance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The road stretches out ahead as the three of you speed your way towards Peacemaker’s trailer- the guys still aren’t picking up, but you’ve got to start looking somewhere.

Your phone is connected to the Corvette’s sound system and you blast Stop by the Spice Girls through the speakers. This is the best thing you’ve ever used your MI6 expenses account for.

The car’s roof is down, and the wind whips your hair as you weave in and out between other cars on the road.

“Slow down! Some of us don’t have a seatbelt back here!”

Adebayo sits in the back hatch behind the two front seats. You’re perfectly happy for her to be uncomfortable, considering she conspired to have you thrown in jail. Maybe fearing for her life will do her some good.

Harcourt grabs your phone. “I’m gonna call Vigilante. Maybe he won’t ignore your calls.”

The ringing stops your music and comes through the speakers.

“Birdie?” comes Adrian’s voice. He’s still alive.

“She’s driving. Why haven’t you been answering my calls, asshole?” says Harcourt.

“Did somebody tell her we drive on the right here?”

Harcourt looks at you in exasperation.

“I hope for your sake he’s better at fucking than using his last two brain cells,” mutters Adebayo.

“Why haven’t any of you been picking up your phones? And where the hell are you?”

“Well, we’ve been kind of busy murdering Peacemaker’s dad, and now we’re on the way to the vet with Eagly. We should- ow!” You hear him wince in pain, and you look at Harcourt in alarm.

“Are you guys okay?”

“Yeah, we just went over a speed bump.” Economos answers now. “Peacemaker is just going through some stuff with his dad, and Eagly’s injured. Vigilante was hit by a grenade-“

A what?! Harcourt notices your knuckles turning white as you grip the steering wheel.

“...Who threw the grenade?” Harcourt sighs pointedly.

There’s a pause at the other end.

“Vigilante-“

“It was intentional!” Adrian cuts across him. “And it was fucking badass- ow! Watch the speedbumps, Economos!”

“Listen, I’m dropping you the location of the vet. We’re almost there,” says Economos. Your phone pings and the satnav automatically updates.

“10-4,” says Harcourt, as you do a U-turn and speed off in the opposite direction.

“Y’know, we could have just got a four-seater like I suggested,” complains Adebayo when you arrive and open the back hatch. You begrudgingly help her climb out.

Harcourt marches ahead inside the vet,, and Adebayo seizes the opportunity to speak to you privately.

“Blackbird, I…” She chooses her words carefully. “I’m sorry. But I thought I was doing the right thing.”

You whip out your phone and start typing furiously. She watches your screen.

“Okay, okay! Stop with the expletives. And cut the bullshit! It’s fine if you want the others to think you’re the victim here, but I’ve read your file. I know what you’ve done.”

You raise your eyebrow, calling her bluff. Nobody knows. Not even MI6.

“You thought MI6 wouldn't find out that you were gonna double-cross them and sell that jet to a private buyer?”

You freeze. How…?

“And don’t even pretend you didn’t know who the buyer was.”

Now you’re perplexed. Clearly, Adebayo is too straight-laced to understand. So you shake your head and type a new message on your phone.

Blackbird: It’s always better not to know who the buyer is

She kisses her teeth in disapproval. “Wow… and I thought you worked in intelligence? Haven’t you figured out that the buyer was Goff? Who else would need something that big, fast and powerful? Something big enough to transport a giant cow?”

Bloody hell.

“You might be a traitor but lucky for us, you suck at stealing jets. The cow’s been stuck in that barn for over a year while they build their teleporter."

You’re not naive- you knew you weren’t selling a stolen jet to good guys. You thought terrorists or maybe the KGB or, like, Elon Musk. Not a race of aliens trying to take over planet Earth. She watches the regretful realisation dawn on your face.

“Look, B bird, a lot of what they said about you and Peacemaker in those files is true, and when I read them, I thought you both deserved to be in jail… but I think Peacemaker’s changed. And I think there’s a lot of good stuff about you they left out.”

She smiles at you tentatively.

“I actually believe you didn’t know you were stealing that jet for Goff. If we make it out alive, I promise I’ll make it right.”

Honestly, you don’t blame her- you’re sure that your file paints a grim picture. And to top it off, your previous actions would have fucked up the entire mission if you’d been successful.

You extend your hand to shake hers. Adebayo grips it and looks at you with mutual understanding.

“We good?”

You nod.

The sound of a fist pounding on glass makes you both whip around.

Adrian is banging on the window from inside the veterinarian’s office with a goofy grin on his face. He points at the car, and you smile and jingle the keys at him in response.

“Fuck yeah!” You see his lips moving from behind the glass. He turns back around, and you can see he’s pointing an assault rifle at something inside. Shit.

“Thank God you guys are here. Dr Hurwitz kindly stitched up Eagly, and Vigilante's being a total freak,” says Economos when you and Adebayo burst in.

Adrian is pointing a gun at three people in scrubs. There’s a streak of blood down his face, and his suit is badly damaged from the explosion. It gives him an entirely unhinged appearance.

“Dude, they saw us. Peacemaker and I are wanted.” Adrian turns to look at you. “Blackbird’s not wearing her mask, and MI6 will probably fire her if civilians see her.”

You rush over to Adrian and the vet staff and put a finger to your lips urgently. Stop talking!

“Well, now they know someone called Blackbird from MI6 was here,” Economos sighs.

“Oh, great! Thanks, Economos- now we definitely have to kill them,” says Adrian aiming his gun around you.

“Do we really have to kill these people?” pleads Economos.

Everyone looks at Harcourt. She groans.

“...No. We'll tie them up, and by the time the morning staff comes in, we'll be long gone.”

“They've seen our faces,” says Adrian, still aiming.

“If we can't stop the butterflies today, it won't matter,” she says with finality.

“Okay. But we can't use duct tape. That'll hurt their skin when they try to pull it off. Right Birdie?”

You touch your almost healed lip but then blush deeply when you realise everyone is staring at you. Thanks, Adrian.

“So, you're compassionate about tape but not brutally murdering people?” asks Economos

“...Yes.”

He lowers the gun and grins at you. God, as you come closer, you realise the full extent of his injuries from the grenade blast. Your eyes linger on his suit- the hard exterior chest plate is scratched pretty severely, and his suit has ripped in places, revealing burned bloody tissue across his abdomen and thighs.

You try to get a better look at the damage, but he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into a hug. He winces in pain. You try to pull back but he just hugs you tighter.

“Worth it,” he groans and kisses the top of your head.

You pat the countertop, gesturing for him to sit on it, and grab some cotton pads and antiseptic. When you dab the wet cotton pad on the burned skin on his abdomen, the muscles there twitch involuntarily.

He stifles a moan of pain and it makes you stop what you’re doing to look up at his face. This only causes you to blush again. What’s wrong with me? You bite your lip and try to concentrate on cleaning the debris from his cuts and burns.

“Hey,” he whispers so only you can hear him. “Are you turned on right now?”

You try to give him a defensive look but it falters when you see the longing in his eyes behind his wire-rimmed glasses.

We need to make sure you're okay first. You tilt your head sympathetically. His wounds will probably need further attention later so this’ll have to do for now.

When you’re done, you hop up on the counter beside him and type on your phone, letting him read over your shoulder.

Blackbird: It WAS kind of romantic that you were gonna kill those vets for me xx

“Romantic?...Really? You’re more twisted than I thought.” His gloved hand tucks your hair behind your ear. “I can still kill them for you if you want?”

The vets overhear this and look at each other in alarm. You shake your head.

“Hey, what do you say we find an empty exam room and we-“

“Hey, we should get a move on killing this cow,” Adebayo cuts him off as she and Peacemaker return to the room.

“Okay, how do we do this without Murn?” asks Economos.

You all automatically turn to Harcourt. Adrian nods his head towards her in encouragement. She takes a deep breath and dives into an explanation of the plan to get to the barn to kill the cow before the teleportation device is ready.

“…Hopefully, we can make it in there before they make their move,” she finishes.

“I’m in,” says Peacemaker

“Hashtag me too,” says Adrian

You nod fervently

“I guess,” says Economos

“Yeah,” adds Adebayo

“Fuck yeah!” says the vet, and one of the nurses cocks a rifle.

“No, I think you need to calm down,” Peacemaker replies. “You’d just die.”

“But we are gonna need to sequester your vehicle out there because somebody rented a sports car with only two seats.” Adebayo looks at you.

“Me and B call the Corvette!” says Adrian as he hops off the counter.

“Fine. But keep up. We’re in a hurry.” Harcourt looks at you directly. “No screwing around.”

As you’re in the middle of typing, ‘We’re not teenagers - we can keep our hands to ourselves’, Adrian blurts “Well, it’s on your conscience that I might die today without ever having sex in a Corvette.”

You delete the message and put your phone away resignedly, rolling your eyes at Adrian.

“Gross dude, that’s a rental,” says Economos as you file out of the veterinarian’s surgery and into the van.

“Surprisingly nice people considering,” says the vet.

“Expect the guy in blue and his girlfriend,” adds one of the nurses.

“Yeah… they’re both a fucking mess.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours later, after an unsuccessful attempt to get Eagly to drop Peacemaker’s sonic boom helmet onto the roof of the barn, you all watch from the bushes in the dark night as Economos goes undercover to place the helmet inside. He’s the only one who Goff wouldn’t recognise.

“Blackbird, when did Goff see you?” asks Peacemaker, confused.

“You should have seen her this morning when she sonic-screamed the butterflies at the hotel. She nearly got Goff,” laughs Adebayo. “You cut off my boyfriend’s toe, you bitch!”

“Boyfriend? I thought you guys just hooked up!” He turns to Adrian. “I thought you were supposed to share these things with your BFF!”

Pretending to fix your holster, you try hard to avert Adrian’s gaze. You haven’t seen any point in labelling your situationship. But he doesn’t seem phased.

“You tried to kill Goff for me?” Your eyes meet Adrian’s from behind his red visor. “Woah, you were right- that isromantic!”

Just when Economos seems to be in the clear, you hear one of the butterflies on the walkie-talkie yell. There’s sudden chaos outside the barn.

Oh shit.

You watch as the butterflies swarm him. Adebayo fumbles with her walkie-talkie.

“Activate sonic boom!”

You hear the first explosion, and the barn starts tumbling down. The butterflies leave Economos and start running towards the barn.

“Activate sonic boom,” she says again. Another sonic wave decimates the barn- the blast radius sends dozens of butterflies flying back.

There’s one more blast as Adebayo triggers the sonic boom again, and you wait, but the barn doesn’t crash into the depths below, where you know the cow is hidden.

“Yep, that's it for the charges.” Peacemaker pulls on his other helmet.

“We need you to stay here, Ads. If something happens to us, you're the only hope,” says Harcourt.

“The fuck am I?” mutters Economos, offended.

“What's the plan, man?” Adrian asks.

“We’re gonna get into the barn-” Peacemaker gestures to himself and you “- Blackbird’s gonna scream at the cow, then we’re gonna try and find a way out.”

“That’s suicide,” says Adebayo

You type a message on your phone and show Adrian, who reads it out loud.

“She says she and Peacemaker will probably end up in the Suicide Squad anyway. They’ll do it,” he says, mildly confused.

You and Peacemaker exchange meaningful looks.

“Let's go kill a cow,” he says.

You, Peacemaker, Harcourt and Adrian hop over the fence and start running towards the barn.

The atmosphere cracks as you inhale deeply and scream. It bursts the heads of a small group of butterflies running at you.

The four of you start firing, and it draws the attention of even more butterflies towards you.

Adrian laughs as he unleashes a massacre on your opponents. He’s in his element. Sometimes he’s such a goofball you forget how fucking good he is in combat.

“On your right, Birdie!” Shit. You take cover from the bullets behind a haystack.

Adrian brings out a machete and cuts down foe after foe. A group of butterflies round on him, and you leap over the haystack and yell, sending them flying back from him He gives you a quick nod before stomping on a butterfly crawling out of one of their heads.

“Blackbird, Chris- go! We’ll hold them off here!” yells Harcourt.

You and Peacemaker make a break for it.

“Fuck, yeah!” You hear Adrian shout behind you- he’s genuinely having fun wielding a machete in one hand and a handgun in the other.

As you reach the barn stairs, one of the butterflies almost catches Peacemaker. Adrian plants the machete directly in his skull.

“Don’t fuck with my BFF!” yells Adrian as Peacemaker jumps down the staircase as fast as he can.

Suddenly a hand covers your mouth, and your eyes bulge as you realise a butterfly is attacking you from behind. Not again, fucker. You elbow them in the ribs and struggle until the cool metal of a gun barrel pressed against your temple makes you freeze.

“Stop fucking squirming.”

The words make Adrian whip around. You’re about to wave at him, to tell him not to do anything rash, but his reflexes are too quick. Before either you or the butterfly realise what he’s doing, he shoots the butterfly in the head. A warm blood splatter hits your body, and you feel the thud of him dropping to the floor behind you.

“The only person who says that shit to my girlfriend is me.”

You check there’s no butterfly crawling out of the dead body behind you, and as you turn back around to smile at Adrian, you see it- a tiny gleam of silver flying towards you.

Instinctively you whip your hand up to block it. A gasp of pain and shock escapes you, as you see a steel throwing knife protruding through your extended palm.

Another gleam of sliver. Sudden pain. You choke. Your other hand comes up to touch your throat. Dazed, you feel a knife stuck deep in your neck.

“Fuck!” Adrian turns around and shoots the butterfly before they can throw a third knife.

The ground seems to come up from nowhere to hit your side. You gasp, trying to stem the bleeding from your neck with your left hand. The smell of grass and the blood pooling out in front of you makes you feel faint.

There’s the distinct sound of a bullet finding a soft target, then a thud as Adrian drops to his knees beside you. Momentarily distracted by your injuries, he was shot in the back. He falls flat on his front, masked face turned towards you.

You cough more blood. The pain searing through your neck is almost beyond endurance. Adrian fades in and out of focus.

“Birdie,” he groans. “Stay awake… We’re still gonna… drive off into the sunset.” He lifts himself onto his elbows to crawl towards you.

Every breath of air you take hurts- each tiny inhale slightly moves the knife in your neck.

You feel Adrian’s fingers remove your left hand, so he can put pressure on the wound. Even now, you feel comforted by his touch.

Hazily, you think that you’re glad to be dying knowing what it feels like to be loved.

There’s another strange cold sensation in your neck- a rush of air. But before you have time to wonder what’s happening, everything fades to black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

You open your eyes blearily- it’s bright. Daylight. Your throat is raw. You’re in pain. But wait… you can feel pain- that’s a good sign, right? The smell of antiseptic is suffocating.

Looking down at yourself, your eyes try to focus on your heavily bandaged right hand. Your hands fly up to your throat, and you feel more bandages around your neck. There’s a pulse monitor attached to your finger.

“Hey, it’s me. You’re okay.” It’s Adebayo’s voice. As your vision becomes clearer, you see she looks different, as she sits beside you on a blue plastic chair. She’s wearing a white shirt, vest and a blazer. Sort of like she’s dressed for a funeral.

A funeral.

Where’s Adrian? You sit up and take in the rest of the bland room. You need your phone. Where’s my phone? So many questions fly through your mind.

“Hey, hey, hey- sit back down. Adrian’s alive.” You sigh in relief and lie back. “Everyone’s alive. We did it. We killed the cow.”

She tosses you your phone.

“Adrian’s in surgery. The bullet didn’t go too deep, but they need to get the fragments out. He’ll be out soon.”

Blackbird: And the others? x

Her phone pings as your message arrives. She reads it.

“Let’s see… Harcourt was shot right after Adrian- she’s in a coma, but she’ll survive. Chris is fine- he’s waiting with her in case she wakes up. Economos broke his leg. I was human-torpedoed through the cow and didn’t even sprain my neck.” she grins.

Blackbird: I don’t understand how I’m still alive x

“It was Adrian he-”

“Good, you’re awake.” Adebayo is interrupted by a doctor coming into the room. She introduces herself and picks up the chart at the end of your bed.

“The wound to your neck was deep… fortunately, it didn’t hit your spine. Patients with this kind of injury usually die from blood loss. But your boyfriend extracted the knife and stopped blood flow with duct tape.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “Removing a knife from a wound like that is normally very dangerous. But on this occasion, it saved your life.”

Adrian’s impulsivity has somehow paid off.

“Your throat, however-” she hesitates “-we had to do an endoscopy to check for trauma to the larynx, and we’d never seen anything like it. There were strange lesions all along the membrane of your vocal cords.”

You nod, absently fidgeting with the bandages on your injured hand. This is old news.

“We were able to remove the majority of them.” Your eyes dart up to meet hers. “But there are a few tiny ones left that were so embedded they couldn’t be removed without damaging the healthy tissue.”

Her words fly over your head as you and Adebayo exchange glances, clearly thinking the same thing.

“Your powers…” whispers Adebayo. Your heart thumps in your chest. You refuse to let yourself believe what you think might be happening. “Can she use her voice?” she addresses the doctor.

“Sure,” the doctor replies indifferently as she puts the chart back. “Just try not to speak too much or too loudly over the next few days. Otherwise, you’re good to be discharged.”

“I mean her superpowers. Her supersonic scream?”

“Her what?”

You’re unsurprised by her scepticism; this is classified information and unlikely to be on your medical records.

“Uh, never mind. Thank you,” says Adebayo as the doctor leaves the room. She turns back to face you. “...Can you?”

The last thing you want to do is cause an accident. You shake your head.

“C’mon- try and break that old-ass TV.” She jerks her head over her shoulder.

You concentrate and let out a small hum. It hurts. But nothing happens.

“Break,” you whisper- still nothing. Your throat is too raw to try yelling.

“It’s okay, B bird.” Adebayo notices tears forming in your eyes and moves over to sit on the edge of the hospital bed. She touches your shoulder, and the tears spill down your face.

“Happy tears.” Your voice is hoarse and incredibly sore. “There’s no way they’ll want me for the Suicide Squad now.”

She beams at you. “About that… I’m on my way to a press conference exposing Project Butterfly. Nobody’s joining the Suicide Squad. I made a deal with MI6 behind my mom’s back-”

“Bad idea-”

“Well, after this, I’m basically untouchable. I told MI6 I’d keep their name out of the press conference if they fired you. They still keep their hands clean, and if you check your email, you should be getting a pretty sweet severance package on Monday.”

“Kind of sounds like blackmail,” you whisper as you pull up your emails on your phone.

From: HM Government Secret Intelligence Service MI6

Subject: Agent Blackbird - Notification of redundancy

“Eh, I call it negotiation.”

“Thank you, Ads,” you say softly but sincerely.

She gets up from your bed and goes to leave but pauses at the door and laughs.

“What is it?”

“Adrian told the doctors he wanted to see you before his surgery. He was asking- asking for-“

She snorts and has to stop speaking. She begins laughing so hard that she’s struggling to breathe.

“What is it?” you ask hoarsely, waiting for the punchline.

She composes herself, “He was asking for someone called Blackbird. He said it was one name. Like Cher.” She cracks up again.

You bite your lip, trying not to laugh. It’s kind of sweet, but Christ…

“Did you even tell him your real name?”

You shake your head, and the ridiculousness of the situation hits you both simultaneously, and you can't help but burst out laughing. Adebayo doubles over, clutching her stomach, and you dab tears of laughter from your eyes with the hospital bedsheet.

“It never- “ you choke with laughter “- it never came up.”

You both collapse into hysterics. Ouch. Your good hand runs over the bandages on your neck.

“Damn, and I thought Adrian took his secret identity seriously.”

God, poor Adrian. You make a mental note to give him your real name when he wakes up from surgery.

“Hey, I almost forgot.” She tosses you a set of car keys which you catch with your uninjured left hand. “Think you have a few days before you need to return this.”

Once you’re dressed and discharged, you go to the car park for fresh air while you wait for Adrian to wake up from the effects of anaesthesia.

Blackbird: I’m alive. Text me when you’re awake xx

You find the Corvette and sit in it with the top down, the sun on your face. You listen to the radio and hum along gently. It’s raw on your throat, but the vibrations of the tune seem to come from your very soul. It feels… good.

Your phone pings twenty minutes later.

Vigilante: DUDE are you watching the news? xx

You flick through the radio channels on the car's sound system until you hear Adebayo’s voice.

“Peacemaker never wrote any diary. He was part of a team working in a deep-cover operation for the U.S. Government called "Project Butterfly."

Blackbird: She’s actually doing it… xx

“This is all part of a black-ops program known as ‘Task Force X’, where convicted criminals are undertaking dangerous missions in exchange for time off their sentences. It's been running for years, under the command of a woman named Amanda Waller…”

Vigilante: Which room are you in? xx

“Who happens to be my mother. Now, I'm calling for an immediate investigation into these inhumane conditions-“

You turn off the radio and breathe a sigh of relief. No mention of MI6, as promised.

Blackbird: I’m outside in the Corvette- I’ll come back upstairs now xx

You look over at the hospital and clap your hands over your mouth when a man in a gown jumps out of a window on the second story. He lands inelegantly in a flower bed and gets up.

It’s Adrian.

Of course, it’s Adrian.

He waves as he jogs towards you and hoists himself into the open-topped car without opening the door.

He twists his whole body to face you, clasps your face with both hands and kisses you passionately. It happens so quickly that it takes your brain a second to catch up.

He’s alive. We’re alive.

You return his embrace, and your hands wander down his back, trailing along the bare skin not covered by his hospital gown, resting on his waist where you feel the bandage wrap around his back.

Just feeling his warm skin beneath the medical coverings sends a wave of gratitude through you. Your heart races as Adrian kisses you deeply and tangles his fingers in your hair like he’s trying to feel every different texture of you. You’ve missed him so much, and the relief of being back in his arms is almost overwhelming.

You never want this moment to end.

He presses his forehead against yours. “God, I’m so happy you’re okay,” he murmurs “I thought. Fuck… I don’t wanna say what I thought.”

You know. You thought it too when you heard him collapse next to you in the field.

“I can’t believe you jumped out a window just after having surgery,” you whisper.

“I’m fine. I just-” He pulls back in surprise. “Wait…what the fuck!?”

“They removed some growths on my vocal cords,” you say, your hoarse voice barely audible.

Stupidly, you feel tears coming on, remembering your first FaceTime conversation.

‘Birdie, I fell for you the first time I saw you burst someone’s head open with your sonic scream.’

“I… I don’t think I have powers anymore.”

God, the lump in your ragged throat sears in pain. He gives you a concerned look. You don’t know how else to phrase what you’re about to say next, so you blurt it out.

“Do you still like me?”

You stare at him determinedly, refusing to let yourself cry.

He laughs. A loud, maniacal laugh that goes on way too long. You scowl.

“That’s hilarious, Birdie. I love this back and forth we get to have now you can speak.”

“Adrian, I’m serious,” you say sternly, but you think your heart might burst with joy. “I'm not the same person anymore. And I know you… I know you liked that I had powers.” You emphasise the word ‘like’ - you both know you mean ‘turned on’.

“Oh no,” he says mockingly. “I’m so sad that my girlfriend is going to moan all over my dick and scream my name.”

Even after all you’ve been through, your stomach twists in excitement when you hear him say girlfriend again.

“That… that was actually really good sarcasm, Adrian.”

“Uh, yeah, I learned from the best. The most sarcastic, second-best marksman in the team.”

“I’ll be the best marksman again soon. I was getting lazy when I had my powers.” You stretch your injured hand.

“Well…” He tries to sound upbeat. “We could squeeze in some more target practice before you go?”

“That can wait til we’re both healed…I have a bit more time than I thought.”

“How long?”

“MI6 has basically fired me. So I suppose until I find a new job.”

Grabbing your uninjured hand, he turns to look you in the eyes.

“Stay,” he says simply.

“Adrian, I…” you hesitate.

What’s waiting for you back home? Conversations with nobody except your landlord?

“Birdie, this feels right. Me and you. Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll drop it.”

“Adrian, you hardly know me… If you knew half of the things I’ve done… I mean, Adebayo read my file and wanted to send me to Belle Reve.”

“Oh, come on! I was in jail like last week.”

You chew your lip.

“Don’t go back to London. Not yet, anyway. Crash at my place… or if you decide you never want to leave, that’s cool too.”

You grip the wheel as excitement courses through your veins. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He looks at you like he doesn’t quite believe you. “Wait… really?”

“Were you not serious?” You raise an eyebrow.

“No, I was! I just thought you’d take more convincing.”

“I’m never getting rid of you, Adrian. Just like you said, remember?”

He lunges forward again and kisses you again with unbridled enthusiasm. His glasses push against your face. Butterflies - the good kind, not the alien kind- flutter in your stomach. You’ve fallen for him. Adrian. Vigilante. All of him.

You unbuckle your seatbelt. “Can you drive a manual?”

“What?!”

“A… a stick shift?”

“I know what it is. I just can’t believe you don’t think I can drive one.”

You hop out of the car and round to the passenger side. “You can drive us to your flat then.”

“You sure?” He launches himself into the drivers seat and turns on the engine, not waiting for your reply.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first few days, you hadn’t had the strength to do much more than just lie in Adrian’s bed. You ordered food. Watched TV. Changed each other’s bandages. You’re grateful to have been able to rest during the day because your sleep has been interrupted by vivid nightmares.

Tonight, you wake up in another fit of sweat, hand clutching your neck. You dreamt that a butterfly had snuck up on you again from behind. Adrian wasn’t there to save you. And so they opened your throat with a silver throwing knife.

“Birdie?” Adrian says blearily, as he wakes up, and his eyes make out your hunched-over silhouette in the dark. He finds his glasses on the bedside table. “Did you have a nightmare again?”

You nod, heart still pounding in your chest.

“You can use your voice,” he reminds you again gently. Sometimes you forget you can talk after spending so long suppressing it. “Same as last time?”

“Same as last time,” you echo.

The light-up display on his alarm clock shows that it’s two o’clock in the morning. Adrenaline from your night terror pumps through you. You’re wide awake.

“We’ll work on disarming someone from behind as soon as you’re feeling better,” he says in an effort to reassure you.

Adrian stretches his arm out, giving you the perfect space on his chest to nestle into. You lie back down on his burgundy sheets and breathe deeply as you rest your head on him. He smells so good. Like home. Your shoulders become less tense, and your heart rate starts coming back down as you relax into his warm embrace.

“Can you put on a film for us to fall asleep to? Preferably something long and boring.”

“Have you ever seen Titanic? It’s like 3 hours long.”

Before you know it, you’re both engrossed and eating popcorn in bed.

“I can’t believe you’ve never seen this,” he says, absent-mindedly stroking your hair.

“I never understood the point. I mean, we already know what happens at the end.”

You both sit quietly as Jack and Rose kiss passionately in the back seat of an old car.

You roll your eyes. “We need more popcorn.” You get up from his bed and walk down the hall into the kitchen.

“I can skip this scene if it’s getting you too worked up?” He grins as he calls after you.

You hold up a middle finger behind you as you walk away. “Shut up.”

“Aha! You’re being a big meanie, which means you’re horny.”

You scoff and call back towards the bedroom. “It does not! I’m rude to you all the time.”

“You’re giving me the same look you gave me the first time we had sex. Like you’re so annoyed with me that you want to shut me up by kissing me.”

“I am not. I just find it boring watching people pretend to have sex.” Especially when we’re supposed to be taking it easy right now.

“Fine. I’ll find something else to watch.”

You run back to the bed and grab the remote control before he can. “No! I want to know how this ends!”

“I thought you knew how it ended?”

“And I thought you said it was boring!”

“Sit back down and watch it with me then if you’re so interested,” he challenges.

You forget about making more popcorn and sit beside him on the bed defiantly - much more upright than before. Both of you remain silent, eyes fixed on the TV. You watch as they grope each other in the back seat of the car. You clench your jaw, trying to ignore the heat between your legs. You discreetly push your thighs together, but the seam of his borrowed boxers that you’re wearing to bed rubs up against you dangerously.

“Stop looking at me, Adrian. I’m fine,” you say, feeling his gaze linger on you from the corner of your eye.

He moves closer to you. “I don’t think you are.”

“Ugh, please. Do you honestly think I’m horny for softcore nineties romance?” You keep your eyes fixed ahead, trying to look disinterested.

“I know what you look like when you’re turned on.”

“You’re projecting. But if you can’t wait a few more days and need to take care of yourself, then...”

“Yeah? Maybe I will. I’ll even let you watch.”

“Oh my god, Adrian,” you scoff, trying to ignore the hot, sticky feeling in your underwear. “If I need to wait, then so do you.”

“I don’t think you can, B.”

“I can wait longer than you.”

“Well, you don’t have to look at you all day. And you’re always wearing my stuff - it’s killing me!”

“Yeah, well, I have to look at you all day too.” You turned to face him. “You and your stupidly pretty face and your fucking abs. I mean, Christ, who actually has abs?”

He looks pleasantly surprised that you’re finding it difficult to be around him.

“Now I know you’re all riled up because even your compliments are super aggressive.”

You cross your arms. “We’re supposed to be resting.”

On-screen, Rose presses her hand against the car’s fogged-up glass, and you close your eyes involuntarily.

Your weight on the mattress shifts suddenly as Adrian leans in, and his lips meet that sensitive spot a few centimetres behind your earlobe, making you softly sigh. You tilt your head, exposing more of your neck to him, your body leaning into his mouth on you. He plants kisses across your sensitive skin, avoiding your fresh scar.

“Adrian…” you say warningly but it falls on deaf ears as you feel his warm tongue trail over your neck. His hand cups your pussy through the fabric of the boxers, and your body responds automatically, hips tilting towards him.

“You might be able to use your words now, but I can still read your body language like a book.” His firm hand squeezes and puts pressure between your legs. “I think you’re done waiting.”

Of course, you are. It’s been torture being stuck in this apartment with him for days. You want to fuck him, obviously. But more than that, you want to please him, thank him for saving your life yet again, and show him how much he means to you with your body. To fulfil his every desire and fantasy-

Fantasy.

You sit upright suddenly.

“Oh.” He withdraws his hand, surprised. “Is everything okay, B? I was just teasing, sorry, we can just-”

“I don’t believe the window would steam up like that if you had sex in a car.” You cut across him and walk over to the bedroom door. You turn back with a smirk. “Would you like to find out if it does?”

He doesn’t need to be asked twice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You don’t even make it out of his apartment complex’s underground car park.

Adrian sits in the driver’s seat of the Corvette with you straddling him. In a state of semi-undress, you’ve ended up in just his t-shirt that you were sleeping in- everything else you were wearing lies forgotten on the passenger seat beside you.

His hands grip your hips as you grind yourself on him, rubbing your wet pussy along the length of his shaft. Your thighs are soaked. The friction feels so, so good, and your chest heaves as you feel his hips rocking, desperate to be inside you.

His hands leave your sides and lift your shirt up. “You are so fucking hot.” His tongue swirls over your nipples sloppily, and you grab the back of his head, pushing his face into your chest. He lets out a muffled moan with pleasure.

You help him pull his T-shirt off and toss it in the seat next to you. You drag your hands down his lean chest, avoiding the newly healed scars from the grenade blast a few days ago.

“You look so beautiful like this,” he says, watching your flushed face as you grind back and forwards in the constricted space of the Corvette, feeling the sensation of his hard cock against your clit.

The space in the car is limited- his legs take up most of the room on the seat. You lean back in the tight space between him and the steering wheel to give him a better view and feel the cold wheel against your shoulder blades.

“Hey, careful you don’t lean on the horn.” He steadies you with one hand on your lower back, and gripping his cock with the other. You lick your palm and move his hand away, replacing it with your own. His thick cock is warm as you grip the shaft and move your hand up and down.

“Fuck, how are you so soft?” His hips jerk upwards into your clenched fist. “We have the same fucking job.”

He loves the softness of you as much as you love the sculpted, sharp edges of him. Your grip of him falters when his hand moves between your legs, fingers sliding through your folds, making direct contact with your clit. His fingers are broader and rougher than yours, and a small whine escapes your lips when he begins rubbing circles onto the bundle of nerves there.

Your fist keeps pumping up and down the length of him, and you feel pleasure begin to wash over you as his fingers deftly tease your pussy. He traces the entrance of your wet cunt, and your walls clench desperately over nothing.

“Tell me what you want, baby.”

You eagerly adjust your hips over his, and position the head of his cock so it’s pressing up against your lips. He grips both of his hands under your thighs and stops you from lowering yourself onto him.

“Use your words.”

Oh.

“I… I want you to fuck me. Please,” you whisper. For some reason, it makes you shy. You’re out of practice when it comes to dirty talk.

“That’s my girl.”

Adrian’s green eyes meet yours, and it makes your skin feel red hot. His hands return to your hips, helping you down slowly, and you feel the familiar pressure as his length disappears into you.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs, leaning his head back. You get a glimpse of his Adam's apple moving up and down as he swallows.

You pause at the base, getting used to the intrusion. Rocking your hips slowly, the sensation forces you to take a sharp inhale of breath- even though your pussy is sopping wet for him, you still need time to adjust to how thick he is.

“C’mon, nice and easy. You’ve got this.”

His praise spurs you on. You grip the headrest, giving yourself leverage to ride him.

You lean in and suck on his bottom lip, realising that this is the first time you’ve ever been able to kiss him while his cock has been inside you. You allow yourself a soft moan into his mouth. It feels alien to be able to express yourself like this while sliding up and down on him.

The realisation seems to hit him too when he hears you moaning. It makes him hungry for you- his tongue enters your mouth and rolls over your own.

He bucks his hips, and his hands move to your ass so he can control the pace of your movement on his cock. The obscenely slick sound of his achingly hard cock driving in and out of you is only amplified in the constricted space. You bury your face into the crook of his neck, tasting the slightly salty sweat of his skin on your tongue.

“Fuck, you’re taking it like such a good girl,” he says through gritted teeth.

A searing heat ebbs through you, and you feel it creep up to your neck at his words. His words. You remind yourself you don’t have to stay silent either.

“Your cock feels so good,” you say, lips moving to press against his ear. You hear Adrian’s breath hitch in his throat.

You pull apart so he can watch your still-exposed tits bounce as he guides you up and down, fucking you open. The swell inside you begins as you watch his brow furrow in concentration, looking from your tits to the desperate look on your face as you grapple the headrest behind him helplessly.

“Is this what you needed, baby?”

You nod, feeling the heat in your lower abdomen tighten.

“C’mon, say it,” he instructs.

You hear the wet sounds of your pussy and thighs slapping into him. You’re on the brink as he rocks up into something heavenly inside of you, hitting your g-spot. It feels so good- you can’t stop yourself from babbling what comes out next.

“Yes… Needed you. Wanted to - to make you feel so good. For saving me. Again.”

He pushes down on your hips, fucking you with newfound ferocity, and continues hitting that one spot that makes your whole body sing for him. Your fingers move to grip his shoulders, and you lock eyes with him.

“Fuck, tell me… Tell me,” he says urgently.

“Always- fuck- always fucking saving my ass... My fucking hero.”

You clench around him, holding on for dear life as he quickens his pace, working you higher and higher. Your ass slaps against the front of his thighs, faster and faster in rhythm with your panting.

“Don’t- I’m gonna cum if you say that,” he warns.

“That you’re my hero?” you whisper, staring into his eyes, his pupils dilated and swimming with lust. He leans his head back and groans in response. “You are, Adrian. My- my hero. My Vigilante.”

You suck the skin of his neck, squeezing your eyes shut, squeezing everything below your waist as you tumble into sheer ecstasy. You bear down on him as he jerks his hips up, fucking into you like a starved man. The force of his thrusts makes you bounce so hard that you need to lift your arm to stop yourself from hitting your head on the roof of the car.

“Shit,” he gasps. “You can’t say that. I’m gonna cum- oh, fuck I am. I’m cumming. Fuuuck.”

His rambling doesn’t even register clearly in your head- you’re too busy burying your face into his neck again, and with a muffled moan, you cum with him- hard. Your teeth graze his neck, and your walls contract around his cock, as you feel him coat your insides.

You slump into him, your dead weight on top of him. Every inch of your sweat soaked body in contact with his. He wraps his arms around you as you both catch your breath, endorphins lighting up your insides like fireworks. You nuzzle into his neck as his cock still pulses inside you, and cum leaks out of your pussy.

The windows of the Corvette are, in fact, steamed up. His glasses are too. You both silently enjoy the post-orgasmic bliss for several moments. From this position, his heart is pressed against yours, and you can feel them both beating loudly against your ribcages as you begin to resume normal breathing.

“So that was like…That was like my kryptonite,” he says, breaking the silence.

“Being called a hero?” you ask hoarsely. Your throat feels scratchy again.

“Yeah…” And for the first time ever, you think, he sounds embarrassed. “I guess it’s something I always wanted to hear.”

“You’ve saved my life at least three times in the past month.” You trace your fingers across his chest. “And you literally saved the world from an alien invasion five days ago.”

He cups your face, and you lean into his hand, kissing his palm softly.

“Do you think we’re the good guys?”

You hesitate. “I don’t think it matters. We’re good enough for each other.”

“But what about, like, Superman?”

“You don’t wanna be a hero like Superman.”

“What?! Why not?”

“He’s an idiot. Peacemaker told me that Wonderwoman says he can’t find the clit.”

“Well… at least I can do that.” He pauses. “Wait, I can, right?”

“Are you serious?”

“No, I'm totally joking… I think.”

“You can.”

“Thank god.”

You laugh and clamber off of him into the passenger seat.

“He didn’t even offer to fly you and Harcourt to the hospital either,” he adds in disbelief.

“Superman? When was this?”

“Right, I forgot to tell you that Adebayo’s mom did send the Justice League to the barn after all! They turned up super late. The cow was already dead.”

You laugh. Ouch, your throat feels raw. You lean back and massage your neck, swallowing thickly.

“Is your voice sore from using it too much?

You nod.

“Well, we probably should be resting.”

You give him a stern look, and he grins.

“There it is! You’ve still got it!” He pulls his jeans and boxers back up and switches on the engine. “Do you wanna go and get ice cream for your throat?”

That does sound good, you think and hastily pull your clothes on. When you’re both decent, he puts the car in first gear, and it starts moving.

“Ooh, okay, I’m gonna guess your favourite flavour, and you tap the dash one for yes and twice for no.”

You smile at him fondly, secretly pleased that he’s finally mastered the art of yes-or-no questions.

Chapter 5: From Gotham with Love

#adrian chase #adrian chase imagines #vigilante #vigilante peacemaker #vigilante x original character #adrian chase x reader #vigilante x reader #vigilante x you #peacemaker #adrian chase smut #fanfic #vigilante smut #smut

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flower-slut004 · 4 months

Text

Red Californian Worms

“Do animals talk to you?”

A sigh left Yn’s lips as she looked over at her teammate “No Vig … for the last time animals do not speak to me and I do not speak to animals.”

Adrián frowned beneath his mask as he stared at her.

“That’s no fun then, what’s the point of having nature powers if you don’t know what Eagley wants for breakfast.”

Yn scrunches up her nose and looks over at the Eagle, who shares an almost puzzle look,

“I’m sure Eagley would like mice or some nice berries for breakfast and my nature powers aren’t animal oriented”

Adrian’s eyes lit up behind the mask “Ah ha!,” he pointed his finger at her “So you can talk to animals!”

Yn sighs as she rubbed her head “No I… you know what Vigilante?” she looks back at him,

“Youre absolutely correct. I can talk to animals. You wanna know what Eagley said to me this morning?”

Adrian nods frantically as he scoots closer “What did he say?”

“That he wants to be your best friend but the only way he can trust you to be his best friend is get him red californian worms” she explains.

Adrian tilts his head in confusion “Really? Well you’re the animal whisperer here! I’ll bring you your worms Eagley!”

Adrian gets up and runs off to the door leaving Yn alone with the Eagle.

Eagley tilted his head while staring at Yn, almost as he was judging her.

“What? Did you want him here another five minutes?”

Eagley ruffled his feathers causing Yn to pet him.

“Yeah that’s what I thought.”

#multifandom imagines #adrian chase x reader #adrian chase #freddie stroma #Freddie Stroma x reader

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bloombubs · 6 months

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— blurb ; " what are we?" notes: reader x adrian chase / adrian being a lil idiot / making out and touching / idk how to end it i just had this little scene in my head. wc: 1k

“What are we?” Y/N asked, a bit breathless as she pulled away from the kiss. The lamp on Harcourt’s desk dimly lit the headquarters that highlighted the scattered paperwork, files, and abandoned computer mouse and keyboard from Y/N’s workstation. She sat on the edge of the desk, the cold surface a stark contrast to the heat growing between her and Adrian. The open room bore witness to their impulsive passion after a mission together, unable to keep their hands to themselves long enough to get back to either or’s apartment.

Adrian stood between her legs, the worn tiles beneath his boots feeling cool against the soles. His hands, calloused from missions and personal training, squeezed the softness of her upper thigh and the curve of her side. The tension and desire between the two were palpable, the air mixed with adrenaline and the faint scent of metal from the shots fired tonight.

Y/N’s hands cupped Adrian’s jaw, her thumbs caressing his cheeks. She noted how Adrian’s glasses sat crookedly on the bridge of his nose—the lenses bearing smudge marks from the close contact of their faces.

“Work colleagues. What else?” Adrian’s brows furrowed together, his eyes flickering around her face, taking in all her details. Headlights of cars flickered through the drawn blinds, occasionally filling the room with light.

Y/N cocked her eyebrow at his answer, tilting her head to the side. The flickering of Harcourt’s lamp caught her attention for a moment, accentuating the playful gleam in Y/N’s eyes. Out of all the possible responses, Adrian’s matter-of-fact tone caught her by surprise. She almost anticipated him saying something along the lines of ‘friends with benefits’--but with a more lewd phrasing that would only cause her to roll her eyes and have a smile tug on her lips.

“Do you makeout with your coworkers at Fennel Fields like this?”

“Nope.”

“What about anyone on this team?”

“Just you.” Adrian’s gaze held hers, his hand now running up and down the fabric on her thigh. He pinched and rolled the fabric between his fingers, almost tugging at it. The two were both in their uniforms, her uniform more similar to Harcourt’s, while he was in his Vigilante gear. Y/N’s hands slipped down to his chest. His soft curls bounded as he admired her body, his weight shifting between his legs.

“I don’t think we’re just work colleagues,” even the phrase leaving her lips sounded off. Colleagues? Not even partners in crime?

Adrian’s eyes widened, his grasp pulling her closer. He felt like he was losing her in this conversation. He yanked her hips to be closer to him, her butt barely sitting on the edge of her desk. The movement caused her to squeak, looking at Adrian with confusion based on his sudden movements. “What? Why?”

“Adrian, I don’t just want to be…work colleagues–I want something more than this–” Y/N started off, her heart beating as she felt his grip tighten on her waist.

“What, like people who enjoy-getting-freaky-with-each-other-on-and-off-the-clock-and-have-sleepovers?” His question made Y/N groan, tilting her head back, which led to Adrian attaching his lips to her neck, trailing kisses down her skin, nipping and tugging at her flesh. His hand slipped around to her lower back, trying to support her. Almost as if he was worried about her changing his mind about him–he didn’t want whatever they had to stop.

“I think we’re already friends with benefits.” She gasped at the feeling of Adrian’s teeth grazing her neck, her nails digging into the padding of his suit. Adrian’s lips explored the delicate skin of her neck, she found herself caught between surrendering to the desire and pushing for something more profound.

“I want more–” Her voice trembled with a mixture of vulnerability and anticipation, her confession hanging in the air like a charged current.

“More of what? The neck biting? The groping? I can take off my pants right now, Y/N–” Adrian’s voice held a note of confusion, but his hands, still exploring her, betrayed an underlying yearning. His touch conveyed a silent plea for clarity, an attempt to understand her statement.

“Holy shit, Adrian–I like you. I want to be more than this!” She exclaimed, pushing him away from the nook of her neck. The distance she created left him with a lingering ache.

Y/N’s heart raced, the air in the office space held palpable tension. Her eyes, wide and searching, met Adrian’s, silently urging him to comprehend the weight of her words and what she was trying to convey. She swallowed the lump in her throat, her gaze exposing her vulnerability–in fear of risking what they had for the possibility of something deeper.

“Like what?” Adrian’s face turned slightly red, a flush of emotion–more than he would ever be able to identify. He stumbled over his words, avoiding direct eye contact–yet, his fingers traced up and down her wrist, despite all his uncertainty, he was certain he still wanted to be with her. Y/N was an anomaly in his life, and in that moment, he grappled with the unfamiliar territory of an emotional connection.

The nights where Y/N wasn’t curled up beside him lingered in Adrian’s mind, a sense of longing in his chest. The fantasies of waking up with her, sharing mundane moments and making her his echo in the soft strokes of his fingers on her wrist. He liked the idea of waking up to her almost everyday, being there to take showers with her, to brush her hair, to have movie marathons and eat the take out from his job–or to flirt with her in the grocery shop aisles, teach her DND, admire her figure from across the gym without feeling like a creep because Y/N would be his.

“Like my girlfriend?” He asked softly, the question hanging in the air—a vulnerable plea for reciprocation. There was a shift in his tone, perhaps the most serious one Y/N’s ever heard from him. It hinted at the genuine desire to be closer to her.

“Yea–boyfriend and girlfriend. I feel like we already do most of that stuff anyways–” She was interrupted as she felt his hands cup her face, kissing her passionately. The kiss held more emotion, his touch soft and yearning.

No one at Fennel Fields would believe Adrian Chase has a girlfriend.

#( adrian chase )#( mine )#adrian chase x reader #adrian chase imagine #adrian chase #idk what this is

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thequeenofuselessinformation · 2 months

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Average Adrian Chase Post on Twt

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seancekitsch · 1 year

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Setting: Cabin

Genre: Mystery

Trope: Undercover Married

Prompt: On a roadtrip together

Kink: Exhibitionism

from the fic prompt generator with Adrian?

ok i hope you were hoping for a full on fic bc here it is

Being Watched

smut, basically the prompt, i got carried away

“Adebayo I just don’t understand why we have to be married on all of these missions,” you sigh into the receiver of your burner phone, the sound of the shower in the cabin drowning out any possibility of your best friend hearing. The shitty flip phone looks ridiculous, and anyone would peg you as undercover at this resort. There are senators here, senators who very well could be butterflies, and you’re here with a flip phone in the honeymoon cabin after driving 6 hours in the Vigilante-Mobile with Adrian singing along to Carly Rae Jepsen. Not that you minded that part, you sang along with him and fed him sour gummy worms while he got you there safely.

“You guys just… work like that,” she responds, not even trying to hide her snickering on the other end. She’s right, check in at the resort went smoothly because Adrian slipped his right arm around your waist and made a show of waving around his wedding ring to all of the staff, kissing the side of your head and gushing about how excited he was that the bed was one of those vintage round ones from the 70s in the cabin. You yourself couldn’t stop blushing while you curled into him and clutched your suitcase close. You looked like a couple madly in love. Leota reminds you to keep your head on straight and to stay safe and all the other things you have to do before you’re rushing off the phone because you hear the shower stop.

It’s only a few moments until your friend, your best friend, comes out of the little bathroom of the cabin with nothing but a towel draped low around his hips.

Fuck, this was going to be harder than you thought.

But wasn’t it always? Don’t you always go through this? Adrian always parades around the hotel or villa or cabin you’re in with that damn wedding ring on his finger and you always practically jump out of your skin, itching to move closer to him under the sheets at night or to kiss his lips in private, away from potential counter surveillance.

A part of you suspects this is just a forced proximity thing. You didn’t always want to fall into bed with your best friend since high school, and you didn’t always wish the wedding rings were real. But now you do, sometimes overwhelmingly so…

“What? Did I scrub too hard and accidentally wipe a nipple off?”

Fuck, you’ve been staring, checking him out like some kind of perv. You shake your head, nervous that somehow Adrian gained the ability to read minds or something from too many hits to the head.

“Nope, I didn’t,” he confirms to himself, looking down at his bare chest to check.

“Sorry, Ade, I must have zoned out,” you physically shake yourself out of it. You can do this.

“Are you gonna shower too?” he asks, and you swear he’s flexing now, his biceps chiseled and shiny in the lamplight. You never thought of yourself as the type to go after muscular dudes, and you still aren’t really, Adrian is just an exception.

You nod, quickly rifling through your bag for your toiletries and speeding to the bathroom door for some privacy.

The click of the door in the latch triggers a sigh you didn’t realize was building in your chest. Just three more days, you tell yourself, three more days of this week long recon mission and you could go home, scrub the smell of his cologne off of you and touch yourself until you passed out to get rid of all this tension in your body.

You fiddle with the nob on the shower and shed your clothes quickly to jump under the slightly too hot spray.

This is exactly what you needed. You let the steam rolling off the tiles and your skin evaporate all the tension in your muscles and your mind. You relax fully. Maybe you can just spend the rest of the night in bed watching shitty cable movies and laughing and your feelings can bury themselves for the evening.

Your relaxation is short lived, though.

“Hey Honey?” Adrian calls through the door; Honey is the codename for when things go sour. Shit.

“Can I come in?”

You fiddle with the nob and quickly end your shower, lucky to be done with the shampoo so you can hastily grab the towel and wrap it around you.

“Of course, Sugar!” you call, back, quickly unlocking the door and open it for him to scurry in, now clad in his sweatpants and an athletic training top that truly did you no favors in sparing you from his looks. He presses his back against the door, looking up around the perimeters of the ceiling.

“What’s going on?” you whisper, clutching your towel tighter to yourself.

“We’re being watched,” Adrian tells you, pushing up his glasses and only letting his eyes dart briefly to your body, “I just saw one of the cameras turn on, little red light next to the smoke detector.”

“There’s supposed to be a light, Ade,” you sigh, “There’s supposed to be a red light. That means it's working to y’know, detect smoke.”

You roll your eyes and turn away from him, grabbing the loose sweatshirt you brought in here and bringing it down around you without disrupting the towel; a talent you mastered from having to bunk with the guys on too many occasions.

“No that’s—“ Adrian stops himself and curses under his breath, “I know that. You have a smoke detector in your apartment.”

You snap your head up to look at him while you grab your sweatshorts.

“Why do you say that like your apartment doesn’t have a smoke detector?”

Adrian just smiles at you.

“Okay,” you physically shake your head to keep yourself from doing the mental gymnastics on that one, pulling your shorts over your thighs, “So, typical plan H?”

You hate plan H. Plan H is a fake-out make-out until whoever is watching stops. You’ve done this countless times, and never has it gotten easier. Once you stop kissing its back to the normal friend shit and the ice cold longing that sinks into your gut. Every time his lips fall on yours you beg and pray to any god that will listen that this will be real, that you won't stop once you realize the coast is clear. Every time he makes you moan it's for real, and he always compliments your acting skills. You’re a shit fucking actor and you know it. You thought he knew it too, for how well he knew you.

You sigh.

“Plan H it is,” and you towel off your hair as much as possible. It's going to get ruined and you'll just have to re-shower in the morning. But if it gets surveillance out of your room, its worth the risk. No one ever wants to watch “newlyweds” go at it. He watches you squeeze the excess moisture from your hair with an expression you can’t exactly place. With Adrian, it’s usually so easy to tell how he’s feeling. Somehow, he never learned how to hide himself or how to be sarcastic or to read emotions. But this look in his eyes you can’t figure out; it’s dark and far off and seems to be trained on your knees of all places, from what you can tell of blotting your hair upside down.

This dance is like all the rest. You come barreling out of the bathroom all hand and lips and limbs and he practically throws you on the rounded mattress. Its like this every time, you throw your leg over his hip and he licks at your jaw and you moan and you cry out genuinely because you're sensitive and you love it.

You let yourself fall onto your back, not even putting your elbows down to break your fall. Adrian’s arms quickly cage you down like a vice, his entire body pushing onto yours, his weight apparent but not crushing.

“Fuck, I’m so glad I can call you my wife,” he says, looking into your eyes but loud enough for any camera to hear. You roll your neck back, opening it up for him to kiss the full expanse of it and play the role of dutiful lover.

“My love,” you gasp, his mouth latching onto the skin above your jugular. He sets your skin aflame, makes you burn. Adrian kisses all the skin on your neck he can reach before he throws the covers over you. This is the finale piece.

And god, how you wish this was real. It feels like torture to be so close to the real thing and to not actually have it. Knowing that you’ll be pent up and jumpy for the rest of this mission and spend an entire night with your vibrator between your legs the moment debrief is over. That the expectation now, that’s what always happens.

What you don’t expect is for Adrian to push himself back from you to pull his shirt from his chest. Fucking hell, you think, your eyes following the reveal of skin, from his happy trail on his abs to the little dusting of chest hair on his sculpted pectorals, the finale being his broad shoulders that lead to arms strong enough to carry you like you’re weightless.

He spreads your legs and pushes himself between them, and you immediately curse yourself for not putting on underwear when you threw on your shorts. That meant your panties were somewhere in the bathroom and there were so many more chances to embarrass yourself now. He slots himself between your legs in a way that looks real. Anyone watching on the other side of that little red light wouldn’t know the difference. That was key to Plan H, something you and Adrian had actually fumbled through practicing in his apartment one night, setting up his phone in different vantage points and testing what motions looked real.

Adrian pulls at the neckline of your sweatshirt, already stretched out from years of wear as you thread your fingers through his curls. God they feel so soft, so much more defined and luscious since you convinced him to ditch the five in one.

Adrian moans against your skin, and you go stiff.

“Do it again,” he whispers, the breath of a laugh on his words and it’s only now that you realized you had tugged on his hair.

You open your eyes to the sight of the mirror over the bed, taking in your appearance. Your hair is tangled and damp, you look like a drowned rat. Adrian however, is all rippling back muscles and reddened scar tissue from a nasty fight the two of you barely got out of making his pale skin look even more beautiful. Shit, this really looks real, the way he’s eagerly nipping at your collarbone and neck, the way he’s flexing his muscles and taking control of the situation. Adrian is many things, your best friend, a possible maniac, weapons expert, slightly emotionally stunted, but he could easily add erotic stand in on a movie set to that list.

You decide to help him out, hiking your parted knees up until they’re around his hips, and one of his hands grips the back of your knee and pushes the leg even farther. Without thinking, you let out the neediest whine you've ever heard, feeling your skin ignite. You have entirely too many clothes on. You watch your own eyes in the overhead mirror, pupils blown wide and a stray tear leaning from the outer corner, your lips fallen open in desperation. You’re fucked.

You tear your eyes away from yourself, desperate to do anything but break your own heart over the fact that this is not at all real and you will have to sleep in this very bed with him tonight. Your gaze drifts to the smoke detector with its damned red light.

It’s singular red light.

Just one, not two.

That means…

“Adrian! Adrian, stop,” your hands move to brace themselves on his chest, putting distance between you where his lips had made connection with the underside of your jaw.

He pulls apart like he’s been burned, all except for where your legs are still hitched around his waist.

“What’s wrong, did I hurt you?”

His eyes are wide with panic, darting around your face to look for signs of pain, of anger, of disgust. You know exactly what he’s doing. He’s been searching for that disgusted look since high school and he’s never grown out of it. You know the look well, having watched him make it towards women at community college, as well as being on the receiving end of it once or twice.

“No,” you say, your hand rubbing at his shoulder to try to soothe him. As much as he tries to say he doesn’t have emotions, you can feel them in his tense muscles.

“Ade, look at the smoke detector again.”

He does as you say, giving you a full view of his toned neck; gorgeous and just there for the biting and if this was real you would have wasted no time in sucking a dark hickey into the expanse of skin there, claiming him as your own for all to see. Not that he’s exactly someone who has people lining up to get with him, but still. If anyone wanted to they just couldn’t.

“It’s the normal amount of lights,” he says, but he makes no move to get off of you. You don’t want him to though, and it’s not like you untangle your legs from his waist either.

“They stopped watching,” he continues, eyes darting around, searching your face for a new game plan.

“I guess we should…” you trail off, avoiding eye contact as much as possible and finally starting to slip you legs away from where you had so hastily wrapped them around him. You had made a mistake there, getting way too into it yourself. This isn't the kind of place where you can get selfish, you think, there are lives at stake.

Adrian’s eyes are dark with something unknown, his expression unreadable as he searches your face once more.

“We don't have to,” his voice sounds so matter-of-fact.

“Adrian… what-” your eyebrows furrow as you wrack your brain trying to figure him out. You start to move your legs, unhooking your ankles and unlocking yourself from Adrian’s hips- when he stops you in your tracks; hand planted on your thighs to keep them in place.

“What if… What if I want to keep going?” he asks a bold question with an equally bold straightforward delivery. What if he wants to keep going? Is this a fucking joke? He isn't the type to joke like this.

“Do you?” you ask, ready to risk it all. The words are out of your mouth before you can weigh the consequences of them.

Adrian scoffs.

“Duh,” he says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. As if, of course, of course he would want to keep going, would want to keep ravaging you and throwing you into the deep end of this torture.

“We… Our friendship,” you gasp, grasping at something almost dumbly.

“You mean our friendship that I already totally ruined?” he balks, as if you're late to the party, as if you should already know.

“Ruined?” you parrot, and his left hand shoots to your knee,keeping you from slipping away from him.

“Yeah, I mean like, by falling in love with you and shit. I thought you knew. Chris makes fun of me all the time,” he admits, and finally his grip on you loosens. He gives you every opportunity to move away and get out of this position. That look of bracing for disgust evident in his eyes again in full force and absolutely killing you.

“Adrian,” you say, trailing off, the words confirming in failing on your tongue. Of course you'd heard Chris making fun of Adrian, but he makes fun of Adrian for everything so you figured it was better to ignore it.

Adrian pushes himself off of you to lean back on his knees, starting to pat the bed feeling around for his shirt.

“Wait, Ade!” You almost scream, ready to beg as long as he stays exactly how he is. Between your legs.

He freezes, his expression unreadable to you for maybe the first time ever.

“What if I want to keep going too?” you ask, voice timid and far away, but your arms remain loose and planted around his neck.

“Do you?” he asks, not at all hiding his enthusiasm. You fucking love that about him. He looks so excited. So happy, and knowing it's all for you...

You fucking kiss him instead of formally responding, arching your back and pushing yourself up to connect with him, forcing your lips to make contact so he knows, he knows, that you’re desperate for it. His tongue licks against your lips and you moan wantonly, not unlike your fake recon moan, but this time entirely real and something you fully intended on hiding until Adrian embarrassingly pulled it from you.

You accept his tongue in your mouth eagerly, letting him take the lead and pulling more moans from you, absolutely kissing all of your resolve out of you.

“Fuck me, Ade,” you whisper, puling your lips away from his for a moment, ready to scream the same words if he asks.

“Me?” he asks, “You want me? Jesus, I’ve been waiting so long to hear that.”

“Not as long as me, I promise,” you laugh, and pull him back down onto you, fingers threading into his curls again.

You tug on his hair again as his teeth graze your bottom lip, earning an absolutely sinful groan from his lips. You've heard this man yell and scream and groan in pain but nothing like this; this is like heaven itself, better than any drug you could think of. Better than the indica strain in your vape that Adrian always yells at you for hitting in the Vigilante-mobile.

He bites down on your lip, not worrying about whether or not it hurts, reveling in the yelp you let loose against his mouth. Adrian’s hands travel up your thighs, over your hips and those little sweat shorts, squeezing right against your pelvic joints, and then finally they dip under your sweatshirt, his hot calloused hands against your smooth skin.

“You know,” he starts, open mouth working its way back from your mouth to your jaw, “It kinda sucks they aren’t watching anymore. Woulda been hot.”

Your brain fries and short circuits at his words. You peek an eye open at him, eyes blissfully closed and still continuing his kissing as if that was the most normal thing for him to say. Honestly, you figured Adrian had to be into some kinky shit. You've heard him discuss his threesomes with Chris, and you've seen what the trunk of his sebring looks like. He can protest all he wants but you know the fuzzy pink handcuffs aren't for any kind of “bad guy” he could be up against. Plus, he just kills them. He doesn't exactly take prisoners.

“You wanted an audience for this?” Surprise more evident in your voice than you meant it to be. Part of you thinks you might have slipped and fell in the shower and this is some sort of hallucination or fucked up knock-out dream.

His hips twitch and buck into yours, and you easily respond with a roll of your hips in return.

“Want those fucks to see I finally got the girl,” he responds, rocking his hips back up into you again, but on purpose this time. His hands travel to your chest and your heart breaks for him a little. You know if this goes well you'll be his first real girlfriend. The first girl to spend more than one consecutive night, the first girl to do dishes and laundry with him, the first girl to not run because you know all the ugly shit he’s done and you already don't care.

“Always had me, babe,” you pant. Your back arches off the mattress as you meet the movement of his hips, now working up a rhythm against each other.

“We both just needed to pretend to be married to get it right,” you joke, pushing him back only enough for you to wiggle out of your sweatshirt and throw it towards the edge of the bed. Now you know what Adebayo was talking about on the phone. You guys just work like that. Like a married couple, like a real couple. He laughs and starts kissing down your chest, immediately latching himself onto one breast while he grabs at your waist. You tug on his hair again as your other hand starts to travel his toned back. He’s absolutely beautiful, you think, running your fingertips over the freckles along his shoulder blades that you've memorized at this point.

“Need to-,” you gasp as he bites down on the underside of your breast, and you're sure youll be covered in marks by dawn, “Need to feel you.”

You aren't sure when you became a beggar, or maybe Adrian just made you one.

“Oh you’ll feel me,” he promises, starting to kiss his way down your ribcage, down your stomach. He’s much more of a kisser than you imagined, much more attentive and much more loving. You almost feel bad for not thinking of him like this when you used to touch yourself to the thought of him. That feeling immediately dissolves when he then bites at your hip, his hands pulling at your shorts to give him more access to your skin.

It’s awkward and fumbling to get you out of your shorts, not unlike two teens going at it on prom night, all nerves and fear and curiosity bound in eagerness. He tries to whip them off of your calves, resulting only in jerking your ankles up awkwardly, and the two of you burst into a comfortable laughter as you remove them yourself the rest of the way.

He freezes for a moment, finally seeing you completely bare. At first, it’s extremely flattering, his lips hanging open and his eyes wide as they search your form.

And then you find your arms slinking from their position on his shoulders to try to cover yourself, only to be stopped by Adrian himself. His rough hands wrap themselves around your wrists, pinning them down so they can’t go where you wanted.

“Can’t hide from the Vigilante,” he jokes, bravado evident in his voice.

You only roll your eyes and giggle in response.

“Please don’t tell me you’ll be Vigilante in bed too,” you counter.

“Might chase you.”

You know he’s serious, just like you know he’s serious about wishing the camera was still watching.

Heat floods your body, and suddenly all of this is so real, Adrian, his hips pressed against your bare body between your legs, his dusting of curly brown hair on his chest, the warm eyes behind glasses staring straight back into yours.

“Adrian…” you trail off, not sure what you're trying to say or ask. It's all just, the Adrian of it all.

“No, I’m serious, babe. I might chase you,” and everything in his tone tells you he’s serious.

“Please… Adrian,” you don't even finish the sentence, because he knows exactly what you're asking for. His hands abandon your wrists to find themselves on your hips again and his lips find your own. He kisses you deeply, like a promise, hard and slow as his fingers move eagerly. Featherlight touches you didn’t expect him capable of trail from your hips to the apex of your legs. You’re so thankful you shaved in the shower; you know Adrian wouldn’t actually give a fuck about body hair, but there’s just something about a first impression you can’t help but feel.

You gasp against his mouth the moment his finger dips and bumps against your clit, clumsy, but perfect. He doesn't stop kissing you as he explores further, tracing circles against your clit delicately, and then more forcefully.

You can tell by the way he kisses you that he’s studying, testing the waters to see what gives you the most pleasure, what you react most to. He switches from his circular motion to a rocking back and forth of his fingertip over your clit, and you think it's lights out for a second; Fuck, it feels so good.

“Oh, that's it,” he whispers, lips still smashed against yours. You can only whine in response, high pitched and needy. You try to arch your back, try to move in any way you can to get Adrian better access to you. He only pushes you further, his grip of one hand so tight on your hip it could bruise, the other working hard to make you feel good. But he doesn't even need to work that hard, with the way you are moaning and crying against him. Your skin burns under his touch, and freezes with the absence of it. You come alive like a wire tripped and electrified under him. You love it, and you knew you would, but it feels so different from the idea of him and the real thing. There's so much romance here, even if Adrian’s lack of romance could possibly deny that.

“Fuckin’ love it,” you moan against him, and he tries to roll his hips, incapacitated by his own hand. Quickly he pulls himself away letting his sweatpants clothed cock shove against you.

You can feel it, sort of. You can feel that his cock is big and that he knows how to move his hips but you want to know everything about it, want to memorize every ride and twist and dip of his body.

You pull your lips from his, ripping yourself to the side just long enough to speak.

“Gimme all of it,” you beg, and he absolutely does not hesitate. Adrian removes his hand from where he's working you over to the waistband of his pants so he can free himself for you.

He wiggles his sweatpants down awkwardly, fumbling and tangled up, but frees himself without any comment from you. You can’t say that you were exactly graceful either, the eagerness taking over your motor skills momentarily.

Adrian pauses for a second, letting the moment sink in. You’re bare before each other for the first time on purpose. It’s not like when he would come in through your window unannounced after work and you’d scream and throw shoes at him. It’s full of lust and love and sheer nerves. For both of you, it isn't your first time, but as he pushes into you without weird decorum of virginity, it feels almost alien, but at the same time, this is how it's supposed to happen. He bottoms out with a little smile, searching your face for any sign of pain or discomfort. If he finds any, it fades away quickly with a kiss. His eyes are the prettiest shade of brown, you think, feeling your own little smile grace your lips.

“Guess the newlywed cabin is living up to its name finally,” you joke, stopping again to press a kiss against his lips, “only took, what, multiple missions?”

Seven. It took seven missions.

Adrian snaps at this point. His hips move, completely without warning to thrust back out and into you again, so roughly and perfectly Adrian that it feels too good. It's everything you imagined and more.

“Wish this was happening every time,” He thrusts more, “Imagined us actually married.”

He moans, relinquishing his self control to how good it feels. All of your nerves were already on fire, but his words kick you into overdrive, the same way that when you hold your finger over a candle too long it feels almost cold. Your nails rake down his back as his pace picks up, your legs around his back giving you leverage to thrust back on every snap of his hips.

“Wanna be yours,” you moan, your head thrown back against the pillow to give yourself better leverage to arch your back.

“Wish that fuckin’ camera was still on,” He groans, “Want everyone to know you’re mine.”

He dips his head down, first connecting with the underside of your jaw, then to the side of your neck where he bites down, hard and unapologetic; You know it's gonna bruise up to a dark purple by morning.

“Fuck,” you moan, “Keep that up and they’re gonna.”

Adrian only laughs against your skin, and bites down again. He doesn’t falter or change his pace, his hips always snapping recklessly against you. You feel more full than you ever have, something about Adrian invading all of your senses and overwhelming all of them has you a mess already. You’re sure he’s gonna last longer than you, already your body feeling like it’s floating in space and already your mind drowning in everything Adrian.

“Adri-” you whine, but off by your own voice, as your body jolts under his touch. More accurately, his slap. Its light and playful and just enough to drive you that much further towards the edge.

“Oh… You liked that?”

You nod.

He laughs, scrunching his nose to try and push his glasses back up his nose.

“I knew you would. Had to be kinky if you were into me,” he sighs, before slapping your cheek again a little harder, and you find your moan melting into a laugh. He’s so effortlessly hot while still being adorable Adrian. He knows you so well.

“Fuck me harder, babe,” you beg, finding it harder and harder to form words as tension rises in your body, your body overheated and every nerve like fireworks. Adrian seems to be spurred on even more by the pet name, immediately pushing into you even harder the second you call him babe.

You can feel your orgasm building quickly, now completely sure you're gonna finish before him. He pistons into you, hips pressing flush against you, his balls against your ass. He’s no longer pulling all the way out, instead staying deep inside you and grinding his hips harder into you. It's absolutely driving you wild, moans and whines spilling from your lips. You're close, so incredibly close, and there's no way he can’t feel it from his position. He presses his whole being against you, his sweaty chest against you, his forehead pressed against yours.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, this is even more perfect than you ever could have imagined. And now you see it, the way Adrian could so easily pretend you were actually married. How easily all of this came to you both, how well you knew each other's bodies without ever doing this before. That deeper feeling without a name.

Your fingers move from his back, surely scratched and maybe even a little ripped up from your nails, and to his scalp, to those bouncy curls that you always look for in a crowded room.

“Fuck!” Adrian practically shouts as you pull at them, rutting harder into you even still. That pushes you over the edge, and you barely register the shaking of your legs or the low moan in your throat as your fist tightens in his hair.

“Goddamn,” he chuckles, hands leaving their place on the mattress to cup your cheeks as he lets you come down from your high and finishes off himself. You whine almost pitifully as you can feel the searing heat of him spilling inside you, and he just soothes you with the sweetest kisses you've ever tasted. He stays there a little while, a lot more gentle and intuitive than you expected of him. He wipes away tears you hadn't realized had fallen and he lets you catch your breath.

“My pretty wife,” he sighs, moving slowly as he finally pulls out of you, the sting of his departure and the cool air of the cabin knocking you like a wave.

“Not your wife,” you correct him, but your voice is full of love and exhaustion.

Not your wife, yet, at least. You can't afford to get ahead of yourself, especially not when you work on this team, but you let the thought pass through your mind without punishing yourself at least.

Adrian just laughs, full and boisterous as he pulls you into his chest and holds you there in an iron grip. You think for a moment, that maybe he does that so you won't leave. You weren't planning on it anyway.

“I still wish the camera was on,” he sighs, pressing a kiss to your hairline.

“I know, babe,” you mumble, eyes getting heavier.

And then.

“Wait, Adrian, can we circle back to the thing where I don't think you own a smoke detector?”

#adrian chase x reader #vigilante x reader #adrian chase smut #adrian chase fic #vigilante imagine

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friendlyneighorhoodchaosdemon · 1 year

Text

Catharsis | Adrian Chase

this fic is race/ hair type/ body type neutral; why does that matter? If you feel I’ve overlooked something in regard to this, no matter how “small”, please let me know!

@stealsteels threatened to BEAT ME UP (real) if I didn't post this so I'm doing it.

(…in all seriousness, thank you for all of your encouragement, it truly means the world ♡)

word count | 5.1k (woof)

warnings/ notes | 18+, fluff/ smut; fingering, spanking, vibrators, kink exploration/ discovery, trusting and communicating with your partner (hot), service top Adrian, masochistic reader/ sadistic Adrian if you squint.

as noted, this contains spanking. It is of course fully consensual, something reader explicitly asks for and (most importantly) NOT a punishment, but I realize it still isn’t everyone's thing, so please be mindful.

also this is incredibly self indulgent and tbh maybe a little out of character, and turned out a lot fluffier and domestic that I intended.

ao3

minors/ ageless blogs please respect my wishes and do not interact with my work/ blog. I will block you :)

You hear him before you see him. A double shift at Fennel Fields followed by hours of shooting a bunch of appliances in the woods with Chris and he still careens into your apartment with all the intensity and finesse of a hurricane. The endless amount of energy he seemed to have was sometimes baffling, and while it was usually fun to have your own personal Energizer bunny around (especially in bed), sometimes you really envied it.

You especially envy it on days like today when you felt like you could barely drag yourself through a comparatively low stakes and low effort day.

That feeling doesn’t last long though, because as soon as he toes his shoes off (a task that takes significantly longer than it should because he refuses to untie his laces, insisting that it’s faster even though it clearly isn’t) and rounds the corner into the kitchen, he shoots you his signature smile and you instantly feel that warmth you only seem to feel around him.

Shoes successfully removed, he ambles over to where you stand in front of the stove, fanning yourself as you lower the heat of the burner. Strong arms instinctively find their way around your waist and he nuzzles into your side, dropping tiny kisses to your cheek. Said kisses are, of course, mostly a means of distraction so that he can reach around you to grab the spoon you'd been stirring with and stick the entire thing in his mouth, but it’s still cute enough to earn him a few kisses in return.

You return to stirring (with a new spoon), humming your replies as he launches into his recap of the day’s events. The recaps are rarely linear (sometimes they're not even coherent), so by now you’re used to the way he flip flops between how crazy the recoil from Chris' Desert Eagle was (“I mean yeah okay, I shot it without his permission, but holy shit babe that thing is crazy! Maybe I should get one. I mean when you think about it it’s actually kind of weird that we don’t have matching guns. Do you think he would think that was weird? If I got the same gun as him?”), to how he’d broken a guy's kneecaps after he'd caught him pushing his girlfriend into a wall in a dark alley, to how some other guy had actually proposed at Fennel Fields (“but don’t worry babe, when I propose it’ll be somewhere way nicer. Like at least Olive Garden or better.”)

The last bit earns him an eye roll and a nudge to the ribs, but you still can’t help the grin that pulls at your lips.

With dinner done, he finally disentangles himself from you to grab the plates and silverware and plops down in front of the tv. Tonight you’re finishing up the latest season of Barry (a show he finds hilarious, more for the gore than the actual comedy), but the second you take your seat next to him his arms immediately find their way around your middle.

“You know you can’t eat if you’re holding me, right?” you question, arching an eyebrow at him.

Undeterred, he pulls you even tighter, insisting that he “totally can though!”

“I’ve mastered the art. See, look,” He demonstrates said “mastery” by pulling you into his chest and bringing his plate around so that it sits on his open palm in front of you. He grins down at you, hopeful you’ll just ignore the high likelihood of pasta sauce spilling down your front with one wrong move. You pat his cheek and shake your head no, moving to separate your bodies. He pouts, truly pouts at you and once again find yourself unable to hide your smile.

“Okay okay, what about if you lay down on my chest and I put my plate on your back?”

“Then how would I eat?”

He ponders this for a second until you see another lightbulb go off.

“Okay, what about you sit in my lap and hold your plate and I-”

“I swear, if you suggest putting your plate on my head...”

“You didn’t let me finish!”

Another skeptical look before you sigh and motion for him to finish.

“...But yes I was going to say that.”

The way he seems to so desperately want this to work is perhaps a little annoying, but mostly very cute and endearing. Another eye roll makes it clear that his request is out of the question, and he’ll, for the time being, have to settle for eating like a normal person.

You turn your attention back to the screen just in time to see a guy's brains splatter as he gets shot in the head point blank. Despite the fact that you know about Adrian’s propensity for violence, it still gets to you and you wince. He pulls you tightly into his side, rubbing soothing circles into your shoulder and you settle into his touch, muttering your thanks into his sweatshirt and pressing a grateful peck to his chin. You sigh contentedly and press your face into his side and your eyes drift closed as you inhale his scent.

A bark of laughter jolts you awake. You hadn’t even realized you’d fallen asleep, but sure enough when you look up the credits are rolling. You yawn and stretch, craning your neck to look up at him and he seems to immediately sense your stare. He smiles that smile, the one that’s sweet like his normal one but also not, doing absolutely nothing to hide the fact that he’s thinking about something not so sweet, and the proof of what he exactly he's thinking is now pressing up against you. You turn to face him fully, taking in his lopsided smile and the slight splotchy blush creeping over his neck and plant a small teasing kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Obviously this isn’t enough for him, and he leans over to gently grab the back of your neck and pulls you to him. The kiss is… kind of a lot, to be honest, but most things with Adrian are. Overeager as always he wastes no time licking along the seam of your mouth, asking for entry. You don't oblige him, not yet, opting to tease him instead as you nip his bottom lip.

You hug him closer, feeling the muscles in his back flex under your touch as he tilts your head to the side to suck at the skin of your neck. You move to straddle him but he's already getting impatient and makes a frustrated sound as he grips your thighs and pulls you the rest of the way into his lap. With you seated fully on top of him, he moves one hand to your hip to hold you solidly in place while the other snakes up under your shirt. Adrian is rarely smooth and tonight is no exception. His hands move over you as if he's unsure where to go or where to stop, touching you like it's the first time. They ghost over your stomach and up between your breasts before finally settling on your ass in a nice firm hold.

He finally frees your neck, laving sloppy kisses over your tender skin before pulling away completely. The momentary loss of contact is enough for you to come back to your senses and you push lightly against his chest.

“Hi.” Hi? You scoff at yourself. Great start.

You have no idea why you’re feeling so self-conscious all of a sudden, especially when he's looking at you like that.

The way he noticeably focuses when you have something to say, absorbing your every word is endearing but sometimes it also feels so intense. Especially now, when he’s sitting here, half hard underneath you, eyes growing wide and curious under his large frames.

You gather yourself and clear your throat.

“I uh, I actually wanted to talk about something. To ask you something, actually. I mean, we obviously don’t have to do it tonight, or do anything tonight. I mean I know you’ve had a really long day so I don’t want you to feel obligated to do it tonight, or at all even, if you don't want to. I don’t even know if it’s something you’d be interested in so, no pressure, obviously.”

You’re way too aware of the fact that you’re rambling, which is typically more of an Adrian thing than a you thing, but despite (or maybe because of) your awareness, you can’t seem to stop. The words just keep tumbling out, and now you’re getting flustered and a little bit annoyed with yourself, in large part because it's Adrian for Christ's sake. He's never judged you for your desires and you know it's not in his nature. Even now he just sits there, ignoring his own arousal, patiently waiting for you to get the words out, tracing comforting (albeit distracting) shapes against the tops of your thighs. In spite of all this you still struggle with simply just saying what you want– what you need. You take another breath.

"I want…"

You had what felt like the most supportive partner in the world, so why did this feel so fucking hard?

He nods, squeezing your sides, encouraging you to continue. “Tell me what you want. Tell me and I'll give it to you.”

"I, uh, I want you to spank me." You hold your breath, gauging his reaction carefully.

He immediately perks up at this and just like that, you’re at ease again. Not even a hint of the hesitation or confusion (or even worse, judgment or disgust) you’d dealt with the few times you’d brought it up with previous partners. Not even the well meaning (but kind of annoying) "I don't want to hurt you" you'd come to expect. Then again, this is Adrian, your Adrian, and now you’re wondering why you were even worried in the first place.

Then again, it wasn't like this was exactly a shocking revelation. Adrian already knew you liked some pain and he’d been more than happy to give you the occasional playful spank before, in and out of the bedroom. Even though what you're asking for now was much different, his reaction is a huge relief.

For his part, he sits there, fucking beaming at you. His eyes drift to your lips again, tongue sneaking out to lick his own as he leans in to nip at you this time. For a moment he lingers, like he can’t decide whether he wants to kiss you or move back down to your neck. He goes with the former, pulling you into a searing kiss. You don’t consider yourself the type to get easily flustered, but fuck if he isn’t literally taking your breath away right now. He pushes his tongue into your mouth, payback for earlier, and you gasp. His hand moves to cradle the back of your neck again, squeezing just the tiniest bit. You know he's barely using any of his strength and that knowledge makes you shudder.

“So, how do you want to do this?”

You laugh, “I um…” To be honest, you kind of hadn’t really put much thought into logistics and the kiss wasn't making it any easier to think.

You don’t have to flounder for too long though, because now that you’ve put the idea into his head, he’s running with it.

“Want me to bend you over the couch?”

Another thing most people don’t know about Adrian, and you’re thankful for this, is how… focused he can be. Especially when properly motivated.

“Or I could put you over my lap. Get you nice and relaxed and just… help get all the tension out. Would you like that? Hm?” Hia hands have drifted back to your ass and he pinches it now to emphasize his point, making you yelp.

You can tell how excited he’s getting both by the way he continues to ramble and by the way he’s started to absentmindedly rut up against you. You don’t think he even realizes he’s doing it because he’s still talking, seemingly completely unaware.

“Maybe we should get a paddle. I’d love to see your ass jiggle when I hit it with a paddle. Fuck, do you have one? Should we get one right now? Or a riding crop. Or- what are those things with all the tassels?”

“Adrian, do you really want to buy a flogger right now? Or do you want to take me to bed?"

“Right, right.” Without warning, he stands and you do your best to cling to him as he makes his way to your bedroom. From this position it’s harder to grind against him, but that doesn’t stop you from trying. You press your lips against the long column of his throat, moving up from his Adam’s apple to kiss behind his ear. You move back down and up again, repeating the action on the other side. He groans, deep and guttural and filthy, and you think it’s the loveliest sound you’ve ever heard.

“Stopstopstop, you’re distracting me!” He huffs, cutely, like he really has the audacity to be annoyed right now.

You grin into his neck, unable to stop yourself from softly nibbling his ear.

He places you down on the bed, crawling over you to kiss down your neck and you arch into him, hands sliding down his chest, toned muscles apparent despite the thick material of his sweatshirt, before reaching his waistband. You move to tug them down, desperate to feel him in your hands but he quickly grabs both your wrists and holds them above your head. He pulls back to look at you, smiling a very different smile now.

You try in vain to tug your wrists free, whining for him to let you go so you can touch him, but the look he fixes you with is enough to shut you up. Slowly, slowly he trails his free hand down your chest and slips it into your shorts, rubbing you over your panties.

You moan, clamping your thighs around his hand and grinding yourself into his touch, growing more and more desperate by the second. When he finally he relents and releases your hands you're panting, but you waste no time wrapping your arms around his neck and tangling your hands in his curls as he returns to your neck, kisses turning to bites.

He rucks your shirt all the way up and you lift so he can finish tugging it over your arms. You shiver, fully exposed to him now and he bends down to take one nipple in his mouth, alternating between gentle bites and sucks while circling the other with his thumb and you sigh dreamily, pushing up into his touch.

Your hand drifts back to the nape of his neck, absently dragging your nails up and down the back of his scalp, dark curls running through your fingers and he groans against your skin. You move for his pants again but he bites your nipple that much harder; a clear warning.

He releases your nipple and you think he's switching to the other one but he instead fixes you with another stern look. His voice is lower this time when he speaks.

“Are you gonna behave, or do I need to tie you up?”

You can’t help the shiver that runs through you, or the whimper that escapes your lips at his words.

As enticing as the offer is, you’re starting to get antsy. You nod your head and mutter your assent and he smirks, seemingly satisfied with your answer.

The look he gives you this time is much softer but it still makes your blood run hot, makes you feel like the electricity in your nerves is sparking just under your skin. You turn your head to the side and without missing a beat he grabs your chin lightly, guiding your gaze back to him.

Heat rushes up your neck to your cheeks, but you make yourself hold his gaze. His pupils are almost completely blown black now, cheeks ruddy and lips set in a firm line.

"I care about making you feel good.” The sincerity in his voice floods you with warmth.

“Are you gonna let me?”

You whimper, wishing he’d just go back to kissing you, but you know the question isn’t rhetorical.

“Yes, yes, please Adrian just- please”, you pant, stretching up, wordlessly begging him to kiss you again, to do something, but he doesn't relent. He just holds your gaze while you pout and squirm under him.

“Now, tell me what you want.”

You peer up at him, uncertain of what he means. “I told you, I want you-”

“No, tell me exactly what you want. Be specific. Do you… do you want me to punish you?” His voice quiets a bit at the end.

“No! No, I don’t. I don’t want it to be a punishment. I-I don’t know. I just… I do want it to hurt but... I more just want to not think, just for a while. Sorry, that’s not what you asked but-”

“No, no that’s good. That’s good.”

He finally lets go of your wrists and kneads the muscles in your shoulders. The warmth and pressure from his hands soothes your nerves and you sigh and smile up at him.

“Alright, get over my lap then.”

You scramble to obey, already dizzy with anticipation. You feel giddy with it, and despite your nerves you couldn't deny how badly you wanted this– wanted to feel his hands on you, wanted him to make you feel release only the way he could.

You splay yourself over his spread legs, head resting on the pillow you’d grabbed. Now that you’re unable to see what he’s doing, your mind starts to race. Your pulse quickens, and you start to get that familiar floaty feeling you get whenever he takes control and you get to let go.

He puts one hand on the small of your back and with the other he finally, mercifully, tugs at your waistband. You can feel just how hard he's gotten now as he presses into your hip, but he doesn’t move. Adrian isn't much for teasing but he makes no move to touch you, so you wiggle your hips in the hope that it’ll get him to do… something. He presses firmly on your lower back and you huff, but still yourself anyway. He slowly smooths over the muscles in your lower back, pressing deeper and deeper until you relax into his touch.

He moves lower, gripping the meat of your ass, kneading it softly, and you’re not sure if the gentle touches are genuine or if he’s trying to get you to let your guard down before he starts.

He unceremoniously spreads your legs, dipping his hand between your thighs before ghosting his fingers over your lips. He moves to circle your clit over your underwear and you moan into the pillow, bucking your hips back into his hand, searching for more of whatever he’s willing to give you.

You should’ve known better again, because as soon as you do, his hand comes down squarely against your ass. The pain isn’t so bad, but the sound is enough to make you jump.

"Oh." he says quietly, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "I see."

You're not sure exactly what he means by this but you don't have time to think about it too hard before he brings his hand down again, this time on the other cheek. He stops briefly and you move to turn and ask if that's all he intends to do, but you feel another stinging slap before you get the chance.

“You said you wanted it to hurt, right?” You mumble a "yes", high and breathy, into the pillow that’s smushed against your face.

"Then ask me nicely."

Fuck.

"Adrian, please, please, fucking- just - harder please."

The pace he sets now is unrelenting. You pretty quickly become aware of the fact that he's making sure there's no pattern for you to predict and the thought makes you even giddier.

One smack, and then another, the stinging pain hovering just on the edge of too much, dulling all of your other senses. You start to get that familiar hazy feeling, and you relax into it, welcome it, will it to take you over completely.

Left, left, left, right, left again, one sharp, followed by a few open handed ones to your thigh in quick succession. All the while he's rubbing small, tight circles against your clit with his other hand.

His fingers move to tease your entrance, rubbing small circles into you and like the slaps he's doling out they seem to have no predictable rhythm.

"I think… this is really unlocking something in me," he mutters, more to himself than to you.

You’d been so focused on what he was doing that you only now realize how embarrassingly loud your moans had been, but his comment draws something out of you. You’re whining and writhing against him, not even trying to look dignified at this point, the sensation verging on overwhelming but so so good.

Suddenly it’s gone, and you whine in protest. For a moment everything is still, and you realize for the first time how quickly your heart is beating.

“Still okay?”

You don’t think you can form words right now, but you groan an affirmative, hoping it gets your message across. Adrian gently tilts your chin so he can look into your eyes and confirm. “Yes?” he questions, and your heart warms at the way he asks, at the way he always wants to be certain. The way he's biting his lip also tells you you’re not the only one who's enjoying this.

You exhale sharply, forcing your brain and mouth to actually form words, making sure your "yes" is clear. He nods once in return and releases your chin, and you sigh as you sink into the pillow again. Once you're comfortable, he starts again.

"Good girl. Keep being good for me.”

The sharp stinging pain and the dull thudding of his open palm are starting to run together, all becoming one sensation. He grips the fat of your ass again with one hand, releases it and brings the other hand down. He repeats this a few more times; squeezing, releasing and then bringing his hand down quickly before the blood has the chance to rush back under your skin, gauging your reactions each time, cataloging every whimper, moan and twitch, every shudder, flinch and squeal and rewarding each in kind.

“You like that? You like it when I hurt you like this? You like my fingers rubbing your pretty little clit like this?”

With this he runs his fingers back through the slick between your legs, teasing a finger against your opening.

"Jesus, fuck, look at you. Is this all for me? Yeah? Answer me." You can’t help but whine at that, telling him "Yes, yes it's all for you, all for you Adrian!" hiccuping and helpless to do anything but feel him.

He continues, “I think I know what you want, but you know you have to use your words,” he chides. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, yes! Pleasepleaseplease” You’re nearly sobbing now, tears you hadn't even noticed before falling freely now.

“I think I have something you’ll like even better,” he says, and your heart leaps at the thought of what he could possibly have in mind. You move to turn to him, but a firm hand on your back keep you in place.

He draws his hand back and you brace yourself for the inevitable impact, but it doesn't come. You huff, knowing full well he's absolutely got the shittiest grin on his face but you refuse to turn around this time, refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing your annoyance. So the two of you just sit there, momentarily suspended, at the world’s tensest, horniest impasse. You, over his lap, your panties hanging off of your ankle, and him, with presumably one hand raised in the air and one tracing faint shapes into the skin of your inner thighs.

"You," he starts, taking a deliberate breathe like he's trying to compose himself, trying to stave off the arousal he's thus far been able to keep at bay. He’s still got his pants on, and the combination of that and you writhing and moaning on top of him is starting to become unbearable.

"You have no fucking idea what you do to me."

He sounds dangerous now, voice too measured and now the tension is really starting to get to you.

He’s moving on the bed, doing his best to not jostle you too much but you can still feel his hips and cock shift under you as he reaches over to the drawer on your side of the bed.

You hear him rifling through it, various objects clattering as he tosses them around. You use this time to ground yourself, taking a few deep breaths but they do little to stop the way your blood is still rushing under your skin. You have an idea of what he’s looking for, but you don’t dare turn around to confirm your suspicions.

Finally, the rustling stops and he chuckles triumphantly.

He’s quiet again. Suspiciously, unnervingly quiet. Adrian is so rarely quiet that when he is it's noticeable. He’s still lazily running his fingers between your thighs, purposefully avoiding your clit this time, despite the insistent roll of your hips. Like he’s got all the time in the fucking world.

You hear the telltale buzz of the Magic Wand behind you, but he doesn’t give you time to register it before he pushes the head right up against your clit. You cry out, the sensation immediately far too intense, but despite your struggle he continues to firmly hold you in place. You whine pathetically, the pressure and vibration too much too soon, and he eases up just a little so the vibrations are still strong, but not so overwhelming.

You keep squirming, you can’t help it, and he moves the toy from your clit. This time you chase it, now desperate for stimulation and he chuckles above you and spanks your ass again.

“Fuck!” You cry out, burying your face into the pillow again. You know how you probably look, completely fucked out, tears splilling freely from your eyes now as you sob ugly and way too loud sobs, but you can't think about that right now. You were close, so so close. You just needed that extra little push.

“You’re doing so well baby. Can you take a few more?” and he asks so sweetly you can't even think about saying no.

Adrian returns to rubbing the small of your back, his voice a little softer now. He knows the telltale signs of your impending orgasm, and he always knows how to get you over the edge.

You gasped an “uh-huh”, arching into his touch and this time he allows it and repositions the toy directly against your clit again. Despite his softer tone, his hand comes down again just as hard and unrelenting as before and you’re honestly glad he isn’t going softer now that he knows you’re close.

He turns the vibration up a little more and the extra stimulation is exactly what you need. You feel your body seize momentarily as you clench and shake and for a split second everything feels still before your orgasm crests and breaks over you.

You hold onto that feeling for as long as you can, letting the wave break and settle and feeling your brain go blissfully hazy.

You feel floaty, your body feeling absolutely spent, wrung out completely and everything in that moment feels so perfect.

Adrian slowly ghost gentle touches over your back and down over your ass and thighs. You feel something cool and sigh contentedly as he rubs lotion into your stinging flesh.

You work to steady your breathing, reveling in the feeling of his gentle touch and the sweet praises he mumbles.

He knows you sometimes get a little dizzy and fucked out after you cum, (loves it, really) so he waits for you to gather yourself. Once he finishes you roll onto your stomach.

You wouldn't blame him for being self satisfied or even cocky in this moment, but the smile he wears now is anything but. It's just warm and sweet, like him.

He grabs one of the small hand towels you keep in the bedside drawers and gently wipes you down, knowing how much you hate the feeling of sweat on your skin after and helps you pull a fresh pair of underwear and one of his oversized shirts on as you settle into his lap.

“Was it.. was it good for you? Was it too hard?” You hear the little bit of worry start to creep into his voice and you’re quick to reassure him.

“No, no not at all. It was perfect Adj. You know I would’ve stopped you if something was wrong.”

He visibly relaxes at this, and resumes running his fingers over your tender flesh, humming softly.

It’s quiet, and for a while the only sound you’re aware of is your breathing. When he speaks again, it’s like he’s already in the middle of a thought.

“But seriously. Whatever you need, you know I’m happy to do it for you. And you know how much I love taking care of you. I just always want to make sure I make you feel good, you know?”

You smile at his confession. “Yeah, I know. And thank you. Seriously."

You clear your throat. “It's just nice to have someone who cares, you know?”

He hums thoughtfully, still rubbing your skin gently.

"I know you care about me as a person, and I'm not saying you're the only one who does. I meant more, it's nice to have someone who cares about making me feel good. Not to say that other people were just using me for sex but… with you it's just,” you go quiet again. “It’s just different."

“So thank you. For… this. For not being weirded out by it, I mean. And for doing it, of course.”

You sit up so you can look him in the eye now and he pulls you into him fully, arms tight and secure. The last thing you're aware of before you drift off this time is his scent as he kisses your temple.

#adrian #adrian chase x reader #adrian chase x you #adrian chase smut #adrian chase fic #adrian chase imagine #vigilante smut #Vigilante #vigilante x reader #vigilante x you #m.txt #fics #writing #m.writing #adrian chase x black!reader #anyway if you saw me delete and repost this no you didn't #adrian chase

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