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starforgedthor · 1 year

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when you become untouchable {Vigilante / Adrian Chase} // nine

nine. no crime in being kind.

Summary: during your first mission for project butterfly, you're the only one that knows you've been tailed by a certain local menace to society. arguably your favourite menace to society. so you go to hang out when things get dull.

Need to Know: She/Her pronouns. villain!meta-human!reader. self depricating reader. chaos. implied dehumanisation. canon typical violence. heavily implied smut. slowish burn.

A/N: i know its been eight months. i have no excuse. i still think about this fic. i love vij and the reader here but they might be inconsistent idk lol. you understand, it's been a while. ANYWAYS, please let me know what you think!!

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Taglist: @16boyfriends-and-me @a-girl-who-loves-disney @amysuemc @generalfoolish @idkanymoreaboutlife @home-of-disaster @2guysonascooter @demure-doll @grippleback-galaxy @demeterdavis @specificpuppy @gay-cold-brew @siberianallen @evvilspawn @bright-cherry-bombzz @simping-4-jason-todd @girlinchair @blackwatxr @plzu

Taglist is always open, feel free to message or comment to be added! xx

Problems began the moment Peacemaker was handed his gun, and he realised it didn't have a Dove of Peace on it, the same way all of his personal weapons must have had.

"Get me a Dremel -" you offered in the face of Chris's rising frustration, the only one willing to tolerate his antics in this moment.

"Do I look like I have a fucking Dremel?!" He hissed back furiously, clearly not thrilled with your suggestion. Harcourt flatly offered to get a marker for him to draw one on, but Chris still didn't exactly seemed pleased with the solution; "the most important part of killing someone, at least to me, is the goddamn Dove of Peace! Can you even draw a Dove of Peace?" He demanded to know from you.

It takes you a moment to suggest pulling one right from his memories, that you could draw with one hand and hold his hand with the other to get it perfect. While he hesitates for a moment, by now he seems willing enough to trust you, which is honestly more than you got from anyone else these days.

So that's how you find yourselves while the others, the ones who 'weren't potential liabilities' got the rest of the site and it's equipment set up.

Chris lay in the grass, one hand behind his head, the other resting in the space between the two of you, while you pulled your gloves off, his sniper rifle in your lap, something jabbing your back pocket that you ignore for the time being, and the marker beside you.

Taking his hand, his life and memories rush over you. While you'd done this before with Chris, to stitch up his wounds the other day, the memories always feel fresh. There's a moment of genuine shock as the newer memories include you, wanton and breathless and stark naked between him and Vigilante, but at least his thoughts were complimentary, if incredibly vulgar. It was more that you'd never get used to seeing yourself in that situation from an outside perspective. Still, you tried to ignore those and focus on the other Doves of Peace from his weapons.

Technically you could just take the memories of the Doves no longer need to be in contact with him, but there's something about this moment, this cool afternoon and him relaxing in the sun, holding his hand and drawing a pretty decent Dove on his rifle, that would probably be very nice if you weren't all here to commit murder. Something about the way Chris was perfectly content in this moment for you to hold his hand, happy for you to have free reign on his memories and experiences, no shame and with complete trust. Even Harcourt took years to develop that kind of trust. Despite his reputation and attitude at times, you were genuinely glad to be able to call Chris your friend.

Harcourt finally joins you both when you're handing over the rifle, and Peacemaker's giving begrudging compliments about the last-minute Dove addition. It pitters off into general small-talk before Chris asks you if you've been around this area before.

"I'm usually not allowed in Washington," you mused, knowing you still had a long time to wait before the targets to arrive, "especially not this part, considering the amount of important people that live within, like, a ten mile radius of here," you gestured towards the targets' house, "Senators and stuff, you know? But isn't it beautiful -"

"I need you to be like forty percent less Disney on this stakeout," Harcourt rolled her eyes at how you'd chosen to phrase the factoid about yourself, "why are you even out here, shouldn't you be in the van with the others?"

"I hope not, there's barely room as it is," Economos's mutter comes through the line and you beam at Harcourt.

"And you're my favourite," you coo at her, voice syrupy.

"Tell us what you really think," from Harcourt's other side you hear Peacemaker's snicker.

"Seriously, Chaser, where are you meant to be- Murn," Harcourt goes back to her headset, "where is she meant to be?"

"We're literally just killing time, they're not due for hours -" You pitched yourself back against the grass with a groan.

"What do you mean you're usually not allowed in Washington?" Peacemaker speaks up, however back to the thought you'd had just a few moments ago.

"Technically," you started, looking up at the sky through the dappled leaves, "I'm not allowed anywhere that isn't Belle Reve, you know?" You huffed a strange little laugh at that, "but the rules on where I am and am not allowed to be kind of change depending on where I'm needed." Silence filled the air for several long moments, "there's lots of people in Washington; I've found a lot of people in Washington, and I don't know where they are now-"

"Okay," Harcourt says sharply, and your gaze snaps to her. From her pocket she pulls a zip-tie, and she doesn't even have to say, "go be Disney somewhere else for a bit, Cujo," for you to take it and loop it around your wrist.

It takes all of five minutes of wandering around the surrounding shrubbery for you to feel the pressure of the item you'd stuffed in your back pocket before leaving the hotel that morning.

The fucking multitool.

It was still light out, nobody was talking to you directly over the comms, it was just a little, silly thing for you to entertain yourself with, no-one would care -

Except with your glove half-off and the multitool against your hand, you could feel that it's owner, Adrian Chase - that fucking busboy, Christ if Vij ever ends up actually telling you his name you're going to have to live with the embarrassment of never having connected those dots - was much closer than you'd anticipated.

Still, considering you knew how you felt about Vij and Adrian when you believed they were different people, there was something strange about knowing they're not, especially when Vigilante clearly went to great lengths to hide his identity. You reasoned that if you could earn his trust, he'd tell you himself, and so you didn't want to know it until then, at least if you could help it.

So you take a moment to store the information of his location in your mind, which is the first step that lead you to getting the name The Chaser in the first place, and pulled your glove back on properly. Contact broken between your palm and the tool you now clutched in gloved hands, all you knew is where he was, and that it was definitely within walking distance.

"I'll be back! I'm exploring!" You hollered, and we're met with dismissive mumbles. The multitool was clutched tightly in your hand.

There's a maroon Sebring a quarter mile away that you know Vigilante has ducked down behind before you even properly see it.

"You and I both know what my powers are, Vij," you sighed after turning your mic off.

"I still want to ask how you found me," you hear, "but only because that's how this kind of dialogue usually goes."

"Chaser isn't just a vanity title," you found yourself grinning, leaning on the hood of his car. Vigilante pops up, and you like to imagine him looking miffed. You offer his multitool with a blithe smile, "you should also take this if you don't want me to be able to find you again."

"Why are you out here?" He asks slowly, taking the multitool finally. You breathe a sigh of relief, climbing to sit on the hood of his car.

"I was bored," you told him honestly, before adding, "also I almost gave that away, I know you said I should keep it but really it's in safer hands with you."

"To who?" Vigilante asks finally, and when you ask if he has any snacks instead, he offers a protein bar from the box in his back seat. He's got binoculars, and a shitty radio with the other having been stashed near the others.

"What do you mean?"

"Who did you try to give the multitool away to?" Vigilante clarifies. At that you lean back against his windscreen, scrubbing your eyes with the heels of your palms.

"I know his name," you groaned with frustration, "he told me!" You actually whined, before the idea came to you, "you're from around here aren't you?"

"I- uh-"

"At Fennel Fields, you literally bought us lunch from there the other day, starts with A, around my age, he's -" Vigilante is frozen beside you when you turn to him, his arms are crossed so tightly over his chest it looks painful, "Vij, your dick has been inside me, and I'm pretty sure you used to get off to the idea of fighting me-" he loudly spluttered protests at that, but you continued, "you are not allowed to judge me -"

"For what- why?! I'm not judging you!" He crowed, and you puffed out your cheeks for a moment.

"Seriously, you're not allowed to judge me, or tell Chris about what I'm about to say, he's already a judgemental bitch about my taste -"

"What does that even mean?"

"Don't worry about it," you blurted quickly before powering on, "the bus boy, the cute one with the face and the - don't fucking judge me, Vij - the nice hands, good handshake - Adrian!" You lit up, as the name finally found you.

"What?"

"His name is Adrian!"

A long silence follows.

"Why would you save something like that?"

"Save?"

"Like with your powers."

"He told me, and I remembered it, like a normal fucking person," then, after a long moment, you couldn't help but point out, "you sound weird, Vij," you smile slyly, "don't be jealous, you're still my favourite from around town."

"Peacemaker is-"

"I adore Chris but not only does he bully me but he also knows you're my favourite and bullies me about it."

"But I'm Peacemaker's best friend, I can't be your best friend -" Vigilante was beginning to sound distressed, and immediately you tried to assure him.

"No, dude I know, it's okay, I'm not asking you for anything, I have a best friend, it's Harcourt -"

"Is she the one who tried to veto our friendship -?"

"You called it a friendship!" You crowed with delight, "I win! We're friends!"

"Yeah, obviously," Vigilante snorted. A far more comfortable silence fell over the two of you, and you opened the protein bar. Then, out of nowhere, he leans over enough to bump your shoulder with his.

"You've got a crush on a bus boy, you're so lame!"

"Oh god," you groaned, "you're not jealous, you're just a nosy bitch like Chris," you shoved him back, "and who I do or do not have a thing for is actually none of your business, Vij."

"Actually it kind of is," he sounds like he's stifling a laugh.

"Why? Has Chris said something?"

"About what?" He seems genuinely confused for the moment, but it piques your interest. Why would Vigilante feel like your feelings are his business if Chris hadn't mentioned your possible crush on him?

Still, as neither of you seem to be able to elaborate one way or the other, a comfortable silence settles between you as you sit side-by-side on the hood of his car.

"I thought you only knew how to find someone when you were in contact with a thing of theirs," Vigilante mused, inspecting his multitool carefully for a long few moments. Considering how surprisingly forthcoming you usually were about your powers and how they worked, the sudden silence he's met with actually surprises him.

When he looks to you, for the first time he can remember, there's a cold, calculating look in your eyes. It's the first time he'd felt like you came close to resembling your reputation.

"Why?" There's no humour, nothing light; he doesn't quite understand what nerve he's struck, but clearly it's an unexpected one.

"Uh," he's at a loss, momentarily fumbling for the reason he'd brought it up in the first place, while you're laser-like focus never sways from his face, "I thought you were wearing your gloves when you found me," he points out, before he looks back at the tool, "but that's what you do, right? You have to have skin contact - like, your hand has to have skin contact with the thing of whoever you're chasing down, and then you know them and you kill them," his frown grows deeper as he considers how you'd arrived, muttering to himself, "that can't be right..."

"You're very observant." Your voice has that strange, cool tone, and there's sirens going off in the back of his head that he's in immediate danger. He can feel his tool belt heavy on his hips, wondering if he'd be fast enough to stop you if you sprang at him. But you're too close, sitting shoulder to shoulder on the hood of his Sebring; if you attacked, he can't trust that you don't have some form of plan, some kind of weapon or training assistance in your pockets. There's a moment when he wonders if this is where he dies.

"You know the owner of whatever you touch, right? And their position and the thing's whole history and whatever, you know that while you're in contact with it, right?" He tries to keep his tone light, like he can't see the way your pupils have grown dark and wide and searching.

"Right," you say slowly.

"Well parts... Parts of this conversation, I don't think would make sense if you knew that much about me," he admits easily, leaning back on his elbows, repositioning himself to appear more casual while his taser became more easily accessible.

"And...?"

"I won't tell, you know?" He shoots for casual, and angles his head just a little further towards you, enough to see your eyebrows slowly rise, "that you like me so much you wanna know my location forever. You saved it, and you're embarrassed that I figured out how much you like me." He's spelled it out. Stated in no undercertain terms. Sure, he dressed it up in something light and teasing, but you both knew now that he knew that you could retain more than just memories; that much, he concluded, wasn't information you were quick to broadcast.

Despite his teasing, light tone, he watches the way your expression shifts. His fingers twitch towards his toolbelt in anticipation; if you were going to kill him, now would be the time.

Your expression, however, slides from cold, to genuine surprise, to uncharacteristically thoughtful, before you scrunch up your whole face with a bashful smile.

"I can give it back," you tell him, expression still squished, eyes still closed like you don't want to look at him, to see him looking at you, "I should have given it back before I gave the tool back to you, I'm sorry," your expression smooths out, eyes opening with something faintly exasperated and apologetic as you look at him, "it's weird, I must seem so weird, I'm sorry, I can -"

"Why didn't you?" It's not accusatory, he's genuinely enquiring. Your rambling stops, and you give a little half-smile, as if there's some kind of joke he's not privy to.

"I think there's something I don't want to know about you."

"That you got from my little, tool thing?" At his question, you nodded, still wearing that smile, "but you knew who I was when you held it?" Another nod from you, "but you didn't think that was important to save, like, all things considered?"

After a very long moment, you took a deep breath, looking over your other shoulder to the woods from which you'd emerged. Vigilante sits back up, resting his elbows on his knees, reasonably sure you weren't going to attack him.

"You're okay with knowing my location at all times, but don't think it'd be important to know my name?"

"I can give it back," you insisted again, still not looking at him. This time, however, you offer a hand towards him. For a long moment, he looks at your open, gloved hand, and frowns.

"If you don't want to know about me, you should give it back," he sounds almost sulky as he rummaged through his pocket for the tool.

"I didn't think it'd be as damning as your name," you admitted lightly, turning to look at him, amused.

"Well you'll probably be able to figure out where I work, where I live, where I patrol -" he's sounding grumpier by the second as he practically slams the tool into your waiting hand, still rambling, "Google maps is free, it's not a very big town, and I can't control what you do with your days off -"

"I wouldn't stalk you!" The way you laughed made it sound like you found the very notion absurd.

"So even if you do have the means to find out who I am, you won't even bother?"

"I'm sorry," you scoffed, "are you offended right now?" Removing your glove you both fall silent as your fingers close around the multitool. Vigilante immediately stiffens beside you, gaze snapping to your face, only to see your eyes squeezed shut, expression reading almost embarrassed.

"Ah, fuck, take it, I'm an idiot -" you tell him after barely a moment, taking the tool with your gloved hand, holding it out. Eyes still closed, you appear to be wincing.

"What just happened?" He asks, clearly confused.

"I probably found the thing I didn't want to know," you cracked your eyes open, expression still a little pained, "which was probably reliving me trying to awkwardly give it away as a tip to that poor busboy in excruciating detail, the way my powers like to show everything."

"What?"

How- why- surely you knew he was that busboy, right?! You'd just been in contact with his multitool, you must know he's Adrian Chase, that very same busboy, who's definitely taken that very tool to work in his back pocket at least three times before -

Granted, Adrian knows he's not the best at reading people in situations like this, but he's pretty sure that if you were operating with the knowledge of who exactly he was, you wouldn't be reacting like this.

"Seriously," you wave the tool at him a little more insistently, "it doesn't take me long to give back things like that, you can go and get lost if you want, and I'd never be able to find you," you hesitated for a moment, "well, not using my power. There's still conventional methods, you know?" After another moment of deliberation you add, "but they haven't caught you yet!"

Vigilante takes the multitool, quickly stashing it back in his pocket.

"So you've had the ability to know my secret identity ever since we first met, pretty much, and you haven't even bothered?" Again, he sounds strangely offended.

"I didn't think you'd want me to?" You frown, confused.

"I don't, but still!"

"I wouldn't violate your boundaries just because I can!" And while Vigilante babbled out half-protests, clearly having not thought about it from that angle, you sit back, "and learning your secret identity with my powers would just cause so many issues I don't want to deal with now," you continue talking, listing off the issues without giving him a chance to interject; "one, you're my friend and this would mean you'd probably never trust me again, which would be a bummer and a half, two, I'd have zero plausible deniability, not that anyone's asking me to identify you in a line-up, but like, in our line of work, if I knew who you were and I saw you on the street and had even a slight reaction, that could be bad, and three," you sighed, taking a moment to breath, "interacting with you, knowing your identity, and knowing you didn't want me to know it, that kind of unbalanced dynamic in a friendship it feels like -" you searched for the word, but Vigilante cut in, tone surprisingly understanding.

"Meta-gaming."

After a beat of silence, you frown and remind him you don't play videogames. Laughing, he shakes his head, tone having brightened considerably.

"No, it's from- well, I know it from D&D, but I think it's a thing in most tabletop role playing games like that; like say our group, in the game, has split up, and my character's in a tavern hitting on some hot elf, and then we have to focus on some of the other characters, who have just found out from someone else in the bar that the hot elf is here to see her half-elf son, and they put two and two together and realise she's my estranged mom or something, and I, as the player, have heard all this because the entire group of players is sitting around my friend Alec's table in his basement, but my half-elf character wouldn't be aware of this development. I can't just be all like 'ew gross you're my mom' in character, because my character wasn't with their characters in the game when they found out. I'd be operating on information I logically shouldn't know; meta-gaming." He shrugged for a moment, looking out ahead and stretching, seemingly pleased with the surprisingly fitting explanation, "I don't know, I get it can be hard to not meta-game when you have the information and can't get rid of it, and maybe some people feel more powerful or secure or whatever having that information, but I don't think it's as satisfying for my character, you know?"

"I know -" you say, quietly.

"There's no -" and he's halfway through his next sentence before he'd registered what you'd said, and it finally hits him as his final words trail off - "... fun in that."

"Exactly," and you're wearing this soft, gentle smile as you look at him, and he can't quite believe it's taken him this long for it to actually make sense.

"You haven't been doing a bit; you - Chaser, Y/N - you like me as a person. You like being around me." His bluntness leaves you flustered, but you try to laugh it off, having though that you'd made as much clear already. He still seems to be in shock from this revelation, however - "you don't benefit from being close to me, I've straight up admitted to fantasizing about killing you for years, you... want to be my friend," he paused, "like normal people do." His tone was soft but otherwise unreadable, and you couldn't bring yourself to look at him.

"Sorry, I know all things considered, that's probably really weird, and like, borderline impossible," you admit with a self-conscious laugh.

"All things considered, you're putting in a lot of effort," Vigilante hesitates, "more than I realised." Then, "you're good at being a friend, aren't you?"

"Yes, but I'm good at everything," you answer automatically, sounding like your mind is far away, quoting someone else, "that's the point of me." After a moment, you seem to come back to yourself, and give him a smile, "but I'm trying, so thanks."

And neither of you quite knows where to go from there. There's so much more you want to say, but again, all things considered, there's no way it'd be the right time to bring any of it up. It's too early in the friendship for anything more. Yet. Hopefully.

You know you should head back. Your comms have been blinking a red light at you for the past three minutes, if you didn't answer soon, Harcourt would probably send Economos or Adebayo out looking for you, and you didn't want to get Vigilante caught.

So, you jumped from the hood of his car, stretching, breaking the moment.

"Cool, just came by to drop off the multitool, I should head back," you announce nonchalantly, leaving Vigilante to catch up on the mood shift.

"Uh, okay, sure -" he nods, "be, uh, safe or whatever? Good luck?"

You're already headed back the way you came, and you throw a wave over your shoulder as you click your comms back to life -

"- five-to-one odds she's dead somewhere, probably roadkill," is the first thing you hear, from Peacemaker of all people.

"I'll take those odds," Economos snipes back, and you debate whether or not to pipe up, or stay quiet and see if John could make some money off of Chris and his bullshit about you. Ultimately, however, you knew you had to interject.

"I appreciate the show of support, John," you answered cheerfully, which only ignited everyone else in the chat, berating you on being gone with your comms off for at least fifteen minutes.

"I'm sending Economos to come and get you," Harcourt sounded less than pleased, once the outrage had died down, despite John's protests -

"Why me?!"

Glancing over your shoulder, you knew it would be too close for comfort for Vigilante.

"Sure," you answered easily, "I can show him where I shit in the woods."

Silence.

"The fuck?" From Economos.

"Yeah," you continued blithely, "what did you guys think I was doing?"

"Not shitting in the woods!" Harcourt countered without missing a beat, "what is wrong with you?!"

"Don't answer that," Economos added, before you got the chance, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"When in Rome -" your response was infuriatingly mellow.

"- shit in the woods?" Adebayo sounded like she couldn't quite believe the situation at hand, and you snorted.

"I feel like I have a better understanding of bears now, spiritually," after a beat you added, "thought it might help with the mission."

"Why would it help with the mission?" Economos groaned.

"The Berenstain Bears?" You reminded them all.

"They're not the kind of bears that shit in the woods," Adebayo sighed deeply.

"And they're just code names!" Economos crowed with frustration at your continued antics. Still, when you get back, no-one asks where you've been, and no-one seems to want to investigate your absence further.

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