#vigilante fic

[vigilvntes]

Vigilante Hotline - Adrian Chase x Reader

A/N: hi. my brain works in mysterious ways and i had this idea earlier on when i responded to an ask and now here we are, three hours later with a silly little vigilante fic. it's literally just text interactions, vig's texts are the ones that end with 🧜‍♂️ (obviously). but yeah. i had a lot of fun writing this, and i'll be SO happy to write more if y'all want it?? idk. anyway enjoy i guess!

Warnings: mentions of groping/non-consensual touching (grabbing ass, etc), creepy men, mentions of violence/injuries, language (are we surprised), and just vig being generally unhinged as always. (let me know if i've missed anything!!)

Word count: 2.9k. oops.

Summary: You text in to Vigilante's 'Vigilante Hotline' after a bad encounter at the club.

likes, comments and rbs are very much appreciated <3

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

You've heard of it, of course you have. It's the town's worst kept secret. The little side hustle that Evergreen's favourite local murderer-slash-vigilante (who's conveniently named Vigilante) runs at the weekend, when the clubs and bars are busy and the creepy assholes come out to play, preying on and harassing unsuspecting victims who, by the end of the night, are probably too drunk to even remember their faces when they wake up.

The cops know about it, too. They've made weak attempts to shut down his operation over the last couple of months, but really he's doing them a favour. They're already in over their heads with calls when the Friday night crowd hits the town's nightlife, so why not just let him operate under their noses? At least, for now. Until they can apprehend him.

So, yeah. You know of it, but you've never utilised it before, because truthfully you've never really had a reason to. You like to party, but your nights out are usually spent with your girlfriends, keeping a close watch on each other and avoiding interactions with men who look like they're bad news like the plague. It's a system that works, one that keeps you out of trouble and away from bad pick-up lines and hands where you most definitely don't want them to be.

Tonight is different, though.

Your friend bailed on you at the last second, a family emergency, and you were already dressed up, so you decided that instead of wiping off your makeup and changing back into your sweats, you'd go out anyway. What's the worst that could happen?

You soon found out that the worst came in the form of Brett Lucas. A guy you knew in high school, someone you haven't spoken to in years. He found you at the bar, used the shittiest lines you've ever heard, and then bought you a drink. You decided to entertain it, because if he was willing to fund your night, then why not? You kept your hand firmly over your drink while he made derogatory jokes about other women and commented on your body and your dress. When he asked you to dance, you agreed, hoping you'd be able to lose him on the crowded dance floor.

That didn't happen, though. Instead, he got a little too touchy-feely, kept his hands firmly on your hips and pulled your body close to his until he got brave enough to slide them on to your ass and squeeze. Hard. You freaked out, told him to back the fuck off, and instead of showing any remorse, he cussed you out. Called you a fucking slut and told you that you're a bitch for leading him on and making him think he had a chance at getting into your pants.

Now, you're standing just down the street from the club, staring at the oddly professionally made poster that's been flimsily taped to a lamppost, a little picture of the all-too familiar masked man that you've seen on the news and wanted posters right in the middle.

Vigilante Hotline

Have you been a victim of a fucking creep in a club who just won't leave you the fuck alone?

Did the guy at the bar use his worst pick-up line and then immediately assume that you're into him and it's okay to touch you without your consent?

Do you wish you could fuck them up without having to face the consequences yourself?

It's your lucky day, because I can fuck them up for you!

Text their name and/or a description to the number below and I'll make them wish their mom swallowed!

(This part is just to cover my ass so, if I accidentally beat up or kill the wrong person... my bad!)

You chew down on your bottom lip, looking between your phone and the poster. You've never really been a vengeful person, you've never wished harm on anyone or caused harm to anyone, but in this moment, it's tempting. You're a little bit tipsy, irate and unsettled. The one night you decide to go out on your own, and this happens? It's a little too tempting.

But is what happened enough to contact a guy who's known and wanted for murder? Is what he did enough to warrant the beatdown of a lifetime?

You sigh to yourself before slipping your phone back into your purse, deciding that it's not worth it. But as you begin to walk away, you remember his loud, jarring cackle whenever he cracked himself up at his own shitty jokes. The way his eyes never met yours, always trained on your chest or your thighs. His gross, sweaty hands roaming all over your body before they went to grope you on the dance floor, thinking you wouldn't react because you were surrounded by other people and it'd be too embarrassing for you to make a scene.

No. Fuck it. That asshole deserves it.

You spin around quickly and pull out your phone, adding the number to your contacts and quickly typing out a message, sending it before you can even give yourself another second to think it through.

'Hey. First time texting in. Need some help. Brett Lucas. White blonde dyed hair. Awful beard, doesn't match his hair. Around 5'9. Wearing a pink shirt and black jeans. Got handsy with me. Grabbed my ass on the dance floor. Don't kill. Just rough him up a little, please.'

You don't even have a minute to breathe before your phone pings. Fuck. Alright. He's fast.

'Sick. A first time user. Happy to help. Where can I find him? 🧜‍♂️'

'He was in Dazy Nights, downtown. You know where that is?'

30 seconds pass. Your phone pings again.

'Yep. Got it. Thank god for GPS. Don't worry, first timer. I'll fuck him up the ass so hard his he'll wish he'd never even been born, as advertised. Not literally, though. I'm not gonna actually fuck him up the ass. That'd be weird. But not because I'm homophobic. My dad is gay. More because he's a creep and he touched you inappropriately. 🧜‍♂️'

"What..." You mumble under your breath as you read the text, an incredulous giggle escaping you. This guy, whoever he is, is seriously fucked in the head, you decide. A little funny, too. But you can't complain too much. You contacted him, you made the choice to text his number and incite some indirect revenge. So you just shake your head, and text back.

'Thank you. I appreciate it. Again, don't kill. Just get him good.'

'Noted! No problemo. But if you ever do need me to kill, don't hesitate to ask, first timer. Seriously, I'm so down for it. Guys like that deserve it. 🧜‍♂️'

You decide to cut the conversation there, sliding your phone back into your purse. You feel a little sick to your stomach as you walk yourself home, guilt and regret stalking you the entire way, following you into your home and crawling into bed with you.

But as you lay there, wide awake, you remind yourself of what he said. Guys like that deserve it. And maybe he's right. Maybe this is for the best, maybe next time fucking Brett will think twice before making unwanted advances. Maybe you've saved someone else from the suffering the same fate as yourself at his hands.

That thought helps you sleep a little easier.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

Monday rolls around quicker than you'd have liked it to, and all you've been able to think about over the weekend is that short conversation you had with Evergreen's own Vigilante a few nights ago. You spent all of Saturday morning re-reading the messages. Saturday night was spent in front of the TV, with some rom-com you've been meaning to watch playing as background noise while you thought about the messages. Sunday, you tried to distract yourself. You went out for brunch with a few friends, but as soon as you made it through your front door, your mind wandered right back to him and that silly little mermaid emoji that made his threats of murder seem a little lighter.

You wonder if he actually did it; whether he made good on his promise to fuck him up so badly that he'd be wishing he was never born. Part of you hopes he did, that he managed to find that fucker before he made it home and gave him a beating he'll never forget. The other part of you hopes that he missed out on the opportunity, if only to subside the quiet, yet nagging, guilty conscience in your head.

Work is a welcome distraction from the weekends events. Deadlines that need to be met, lunch with your co-workers, and your micro-managing boss that never seems to leave you the fuck alone when you're trying to do your job. It's all incredibly exhausting and boring, but at least it gives you the chance to take your mind off of what happened at the weekend, and the masked vigilante that's been invading your thoughts all weekend.

You haven't thought about it all day, until you pull up to the grocery store after work, and you see him. Brett.

He hasn't seen you, you're safely locked away in your car, but you can see him. He's standing outside the store, cigarette in hand, talking to a guy who you can only assume is one of his friends – he looks like he's just as much of an asshole as Brett. From where you're parked, you can see the shiner of a black eye on his face, dark blue bruising that extends to his forehead. There's numerous cuts and scrapes on his cheeks, and it's looks like his lips have been completely bust up.

It makes you feel slightly ill, looking at him, knowing that you're the one behind this. But at the same time, you can't help but smile to yourself, feeling weirdly... satisfied.

You grab your bag and pull out your phone, unlocking it and scrolling through your texts until you find the chat with the contact you've named 'VH'. You stare at your screen for at least a minute, re-reading the short conversation from Friday night over and over again. You want to text him. Hell, you've found yourself wanting to text him again all weekend, and you can't quite seem to place your finger on why that is. What would you even say to him? 'Hey, thanks for doing at great job at fucking up that guy's face, I really appreciate it'?

With a sigh, you lock your phone, trying to kick the urge to converse with a vigilante to the curb. But before you know it, you're typing in your password again and sending him a 'Hey'.

You keep the chat open, but you make a point out of looking away from the screen, hoping that if you don't look, he'll reply faster. Minutes pass by, and you're slightly disappointed by the absence of the jarring pinging of your notification bell. Then you remember that he probably has a life outside of being Vigilante. He's most likely just a normal guy, with a normal job and friends and family, he probably doesn't spend all of his time checking whatever burner phone he uses to run the hotline.

Just as you're about to lose hope that he'll respond, your phone pings.

'Woah, hey. First timer's a second timer already? Did you get yourself into trouble just so you could talk to me? 🧜‍♂️'

It pings again, a few moments later.

'For the record, that was a joke. If you're in trouble again, I'm sure it's not your fault and I'm more than happy to help. Though I gotta remind you that I usually only do this hotline stuff on weekends, but I'd be more than willing to extend my hours. For you. What can I do for you? 🧜‍♂️'

You feel your face heat up, a grin beginning to creep across your lips as you read the two texts. 'For you'. That's oddly sweet. He's oddly sweet. You know what he's done, you know he kills people. You've heard the whispers around town, stories from the people who've been lucky enough break the law and survive one of Vigilante's attacks. Yet you can't help but be taken in by how... charming he is. Sure, this is only the second conversation you've had with him, but he's been so kind. Funny, too, in his own way.

The rush you get from texting him is intoxicating, and it only makes you want more. So you type out a response, and hit send.

'Nothing! I didn't get in trouble again. I wouldn't want you working overtime for me. But I did wanna talk to you. Just to say thank you for what you did for me. I saw Brett. You got him good. Gave him a real shiner of a black eye.'

Just a minute later.

'HA. Yeah. You should have seen it. He took a real beating. He cried like a fucking BABY. Begged me not to kill him. I made him apologise for harassing women, too. It was HILARIOUS. You were right about the beard, btw. Definitely makes him look even more of an asshole🧜‍♂️'

You're surprised to see a video loading up on your screen.

'He definitely didn't mean it, life or death situations call for desperate measures I guess. But at least you can laugh at him and his stupid fucking face. 🧜‍♂️'

Although you're hesitant to press play, you do so anyway. There, on your screen, is Brett. Beaten and bloody, begging for his life, and apologising through his tears for being a creep. Saying sorry for using bad pick-up lines, and objectifying women's bodies, and... groping asses on the dance floor. You freeze up when you hear that, a wave of panic washing over you. Does he... does he know that you're the one that sent Vigilante after him? Fuck. You didn't even consider the possibility that he'd put two and two together and figure out that it was you who texted in. You have to know if he knows, if Vigilante mentioned anything specific about why he went after Brett.

'You're right. That's funny. But I need to ask you something.'

'Anything! 🧜‍♂️'

'Does Brett know that I'm the one who texted you? Did you mention anything about me or what happened?'

You chew on your bottom lip as you await a response, and when you read his reply, you're more than relieved.

'Nah. I didn't say anything. I wouldn't. Vigilante-client confidentiality, and all that. He was the one that mentioned names. A whole list of them, actually. Kinda concerning how many women he named that could've been the one to contact me about him.🧜‍♂️'

'Okay. Cool. I guess I just never thought of the consequences of texting in. I didn't consider that maybe he'd know it was me. Had me kinda panicked for a sec.'

'Don't worry, I made it clear that if he ever tried to approach or contact you or any of the other women he named, I'd find out. And I'd kill him for it. You're safe. I got you. 🧜‍♂️'

For what feels like the hundredth time in, you find yourself smiling down at your phone as you read his text.

'Thank you. I appreciate that :). Hopefully you've taught him a lesson. Maybe he'll stay home when the weekend comes around. I think he'd be doing everyone a favour.'

'Hopefully! Listen, I gotta buzz. Work stuff. Not Vigilante work. I only do that stuff at night. Like my actual job kind of work. But I'll talk to you later, first timer. 🧜‍♂️'

'Yeah, of course. Sorry for bothering you while you're at work. And thank you, again.'

You take a deep breath before sending another text.

'My name is (Y/N), btw <3'

'First timer has a name? Fucking sweet. Obviously I know you have a name but you never told me, so in my head I've just been calling you first timer. But now you're (Y/N), which is cool. So talk later, (Y/N)! 🧜‍♂️'

'<3 🧜‍♂️'

You throw your phone on to the passenger seat, like it's burning hot to the touch and it's just scalded you. Did you... did you seriously just send a heart to Vigilante? And did he seriously just send one back? Wait, no. The heart isn't the biggest problem. You just told him your name. Your real name. What if he finds you? What if this whole funny-charming-kind thing is just an act, and you end up bleeding in a dark alley within a month?

"Fuck..." You mumble, leaning your head back against your seat, wondering what the hell you've just gotten yourself into. Wondering if you should just block his number and never think about him again.

It's a stupid idea, getting involved with someone like him. One that could leave you hurt, or dead. Anyone would call you crazy for it. You probably are crazy for it. But that's not enough to deter you from reaching for your phone and grinning down at it when he texts you later that night.

'Hey. 🧜‍♂️'

It's a dangerous game, but one that you're more than willing to play.

#adrian chase #vigilante #peacemaker #adrian chase x reader #vigilante x reader #adrian chase x you #vigilante x you #adrian chase fic #vigilante fic #adrian chase x y/n #vigilante x y/n #hbo peacemaker

[modern-vellichor]

hi! i’d love it if you could write adrian chase/vigilante x reader(fem or gn if you prefer!) where they are quite hard faced and irritable with the other members of 11th Street Kids, but with Adrian they are quite soft and show they actually care for him, laugh at his awkwardness etc. basically a different person than the way they are with the others. ty!

im so good to y'all. i have genuinely no idea when this was sent to me but I'm back baby.

masterlist // send a request

"Fuck off," you said to Peacemaker.

Waller had promised that this was your last job. And you made sure she meant it. This was nothing more than community service. You did as little as possible with these shitheads. You sat in a van with Economos during missions, you never said a word unless absolutely necessary. You avoided Murn like the plague. You never accepted Harcourt's invitations to drinks. You always rejected Peacemaker's various advances (it's not like you would say yes in any other situation.) Even Adebayo, who was the most tolerable on the squad, always found a way to get on your nerves, usually with unwanted (but not unhelpful) advice. In spite of this, there was one person who just made your heart melt.

Sweet little Vigilante. So stupid, so blind and deaf and dumb. So sweet. Sure, he was a bit dopey. He had no brain-to-mouth filter whatsoever. He was extremely violent. He was a bit creepy. But you had a soft spot for him. There was something about his puppy dog eyes, or his dumbstruck smile that turned you into a gushy, weeping, puddle. He was just plain neat.

The others noticed, of course they did. You turned into this sweet, gushing mess around the idiot. You placed gentle hands on his cheeks, you listened to his god awful rants with a soft smile, you helped him with whatever he wanted.

Adrian didn't notice, obvious. He was oblivious to your gentleness towards him. In his heart, he knew he loved you but you were so scary. You were so mean to all the other agents, even Peacemaker! Despite this he tailed after you like a lost puppy, or an imprinted duckling. And you let him. If he ever gained the nerve to reach out to caress your arm, or your hand, or if he ever reached for your knives or your guns, you didn't push him away like you would have anyone else.

Maybe one day he'd realize how soft you truly were, maybe he'd ask you out. But for now, he'd secretly admire you, even blood-soaked, battered and beaten, and pretend you were nothing more than a favoured coworker.

#vigilante x y/n #vigilante x reader #vigilante fic #vigilante fanfiction #vigilante fluff #adrian chase fanfiction #adrian chase imagine #adrian chase x reader #adrian chase fic #adrian chase fluff #vigilante imagine

[jeysbvck]

7 with Adrian?

"go on. ride my thigh."

prompt list

pairing: adrian chase x reader

rating: explicit (minors dni!)

word count: 581

“We shouldn't be doing this.” You said through the moans as Adrian kissed your neck, your hands tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck, his hands wrapped around your waist, holding you firmly in place on his lap.

“Hmm? You're having second thoughts?” Adrian asked, gliding his tongue down your skin, nibbling slightly on your collarbone as his hands gripped your ass. “Even when I do this?”

“Definitely not,” You replied, arching your neck to expose more skin. “I meant, we shouldn't be doing this here. What if someone walks in?”

Adrian pulled away from your neck and rested his forehead on yours, popping one of your blouse buttons open with one hand. “Well that's just part of the fun.” He smirked before his lips found yours. You reciprocated the kiss, your tongues wrapping around the other like two snakes. Adrian gave up fiddling with the buttons, and he ripped the silk shirt from your body; his cold hand gripping your breast, finger and thumb circling the nipple.

Any worry or anxiety you had about one of the team walking in on you — or of anything really, evaporated, all you cared about was this. The way Adrian's hands felt on your skin, you wanted, no, needed more. You shifted your body slightly, adjusting yourself so you were straddling his thigh, and Adrian's lust filled eyes got darker.

“Go on. Ride my thigh.” He ordered.

The corner of your mouth twitched upwards slightly. You maintained eye contact as you hitched up your skirt and you did as instructed. The friction from his denim jeans through your underwear was almost too much, but when Adrian unbuttoned his jeans and released his cock from its constraint, you practically salvated at the sight. So thick, so big, so tempting.

You looked back up at Adrian, his head thrown back against the office chair. You wanted him to watch you, to keep his eyes locked onto yours as you orgasmed from just this act, and so you grabbed his dick, making him open his eyes as his hips jutted up; making you almost lose your balance. His eyes met yours, widening when you licked your hand and spat on it before stroking his cock slowly. That, added with the eye contact and you riding his thigh, made the noises escaping his lips the dirtiest, sexiest sound you'd heard, and you quickened the pace on both actions.

Adrian grabbed your face and pulled you into him, the kiss sloppy and deep, and you knew you were close. But when one of his hands found its way into your underwear, his cold fingers massaging and flicking your clit, your body relinquished what little control it had. You rode Adrian's thigh harder and stroked his cock a little quicker as you enjoyed your high, and within seconds, Adrian had come undone.

“Well, that was fun.” You remarked with a smirk. You stood up and as you leaned over the desk to reach the tissues, Adrian came up behind you, his nose buried in the back of your head.

“Oh, I am not finished with you yet.” He mumbled, and you giggled as he nibbled your earlobe.

“I guess I could go for one more round.” You replied, reaching round to grab his cock.

“Oh no no, this is all you.” He said before he got down on his knees.

“Adrian,” you breathed, and he hummed as his fingers teased your underwear clad cunt. “Lock the door.”

#adrian chase fic #adrian chase x reader #vigilante fic #vigilante x reader #adrian chase #vigilante #my writing* #prompts #smut prompt

[plzu]

coffee. black. - (Adrian Chase x Reader)

part five ☕️ <&lt; series masterlist☕️ ao3

(note: banners i make are always made with moods in mind. i will never use images of a face or fully viewable body for the reader character. photos that's just silhouettes are only used to capture the mood of the story) Summary: You grapple with your feelings now that you know Adrian's biggest secret. Adrian is just trying to make sure you haven't called the cops. Warnings: more angst, no Y/N, dealing with a hangover, not beta read, i think that's it but if ppl find something in here they would have liked a warning for pls lmk Wordcount: 4.6k

Consciousness overtakes you in small, painful bursts. Limbs sore, neck achy, a dull thudding at the back of your skull. Tongue distressingly dry. Eyes struggle to blink open, lashes sticky like molasses. 

Going to bed without washing your face suuuucks. Truly.

Groaning, you sit up. An action your body greatly protests. You shiver as the sheets fall from your torso, body immediately succumbing to the cold. That's familiar, that makes sense. It’s always cold in the morning this time of year. But this isn’t your room, and you start to panic. Looking around for some kind of clue, you notice a clear plastic cup on the nightstand by the bed. It’s filled with stuff, crumpled pieces of paper, and it just looks like garbage until you recognize your own handwriting on the side of it. 

Adrian. Heart dotting the i. 

Oh.

So that wasn’t one long, drawn out nightmare. It was real. It was all real. From drinking alone in the club, to getting manhandled into an alleyway, to getting rescued by Vigilante.

No, Adrian. 

Oh, fuck. The silly nerd from high school that you’ve been hanging out with (if you can call kissing and rubbing up on someone ‘hanging out’) has been Evergreen’s own Vigilante. 

Cool cool cool. You’ve been tonguing a killer. That’s cool. That’s fine.

This headache may actually kill you. This is fine.

He only kills bad guys, though. Oh, fuck this headache. Totally fine.

There’s a bottle of water next to the plastic cup, which you gratefully, greedily drink from. It’s nice and cold thanks to the chill of the room. Once you’ve all but drowned yourself with the rest of the water, you crumple the plastic in your hands and flinch at the loudness of it. Your eyes find the door, expecting someone to burst in at the sound, for Adrian to come check on you, but nothing happens. 

Carefully, you place the crumpled water bottle back down and try to focus on your surroundings. Your ears strain, trying to listen for any other signs of life outside of the walls of this bedroom. All that greets your ears is the hum of silence.

You count your heartbeats as the silence settles over you until it is nearly overwhelming. Once certain that there's no one else up right now, you shuffle out of bed and tip-toe towards the door. You open it a crack, peeking an eye out into the hallway.

Definitely still quiet. Definitely the only person awake right now.

Taking a deep breath, you dart out the room and make a quick dash for the bathroom across the hall. 

It’s instinct, this attempt at being quick and quiet and sneaky. Not wanting to be heard or seen. Part of it is behavior that’s inherent in you from childhood, being the first to wake up on weekends and not wanting to wake your parents on your way to the bathroom, giving you more time for cartoons instead of chores.

Part of it is waking up somewhere new, feeling gross, and not wanting to be seen until after you’ve taken care of bathroom stuff.

There is also — and this is a teeny yet persistent part of your brain that you're trying to ignore — the fact that you're not sure you're ready to face Adrian after last night.

There hasn't been nearly enough time to wrap your head around the whole... Vigilante thing.

After making sure the bathroom door is locked, you cradle the weight of your headache in your palms as you pee. You sit there for so long, it’s almost a marvel you didn't piss yourself once between leaving the bar and waking up this morning.

Who's got two thumbs and is super in control of their bladder? This guy.

Jesus. Are you still drunk? 

When you wash your hands, your reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror confirms that you look just as awful as you feel. Last night's makeup in complete disarray on your face with smudged and crusted mascara weighing down your lashes, eye shadow smeared around your eyes very raccoon-like. And not even, like, a well put-together raccoon. One that's well-respected among its peers, one that all the other raccoons can look to as a role model. You're more like a raccoon that's seen better days. Has been hit by one too many vehicles but somehow survived by some cruel miracle, except it left you with a couple of loose screws.

You groan miserably before splashing water on your face. You’ll just scrub what you can of your makeup with cold water and hand soap.

A knock at the door makes you jump, but the sound of your name from a familiar voice has you quickly turning off the faucet.

“Adrian?”

Oh, good. You sound like crap, too.

Hand on the doorknob, you're about to unlock the door when the brief image of Vigilante standing on the other side wielding a knife makes you hesitate.

You're not scared of him. You're not you're not you're not. He saved you. It's Adrian, kind sweet funny Adrian who bandaged your knee up real nice.

He blew someone's brain out of their skull right in front of me.

“Are you okay?” Adrian's worried voice pulls you away from the mental battle you’re having with yourself.

Your hand falls away from the handle. “I'm fine,” you croak, unconvincingly. “Just... I need to brush my teeth.”

“Oh! Yeah, sure. There's an extra toothbrush in the medicine cabinet. Still in the packaging, too, so you know it's unused.”

You blink at the closed door separating you both. For a second, the gratitude at being able to wash the filth of last night out of your mouth eclipses the weird, uneasy feeling that's eating away at your chest. You open the cabinet and find the extra toothbrush, neatly laid out. “Found it!”

You reach for it, about to tear open the packaging before you pause.

So far, the contents of this bathroom suggests that only one person lives in this apartment. One deodorant, one un-packaged, used toothbrush, one towel hanging from the rack. This is at odds with what Adrian had mentioned, seemingly ages ago, about having a roommate. 

It was a lie. It had to be, and you knew it then and can only confirm it now. Adrian just made up some excuse to keep you away, for some reason. 

“Hey, Adrian? This wouldn’t happen to belong to your roommate, would it?”

His response comes through muffled and confused from the other side of the door. “Roommate?”

Ah-hah. “The germaphobe?”

“Oh. Ohhh, right, yeah, roommate! No, he, uhh, moved out. Yeah,” he pauses with a forced chuckle. “Said something about me bringing back too many germs from work. You know, my job at Fennel Fields. Anyway, I’ll be in the kitchen!”

The sound of his hasty retreat from the door makes you roll your eyes.

Why is he still lying about this? You already know what could only be his biggest, darkest secret; what other lies could be worth telling, at this point?

Whatever. You're not passing up the opportunity to brush your teeth, so you tear open the package so you can finally scrub out all the alcohol and vomit and fear from the back of your tongue.

Adrian waits for you in the kitchen with some gas station coffee and a greasy egg and cheese bagel with your name on it.

He thinks maybe you're spending a tad too long in the bathroom, and is mildly concerned, but then, what does he know? Maybe this was normal for you.

It's just. What else could you be doing other than brushing your teeth? The shower isn't running, so it's not that. Agitated, he crosses his arms and starts tapping his foot. What if-? No, no, you wouldn't. You wouldn't be calling the cops, right? Sealed yourself away in his bathroom until the cops show up on his doorstep, ready to finally bring in Vigilante?

No, you wouldn't do that. His barista would NOT do that. You said last night that he was your best friend, and best friends don't call the cops on each other.

Besides, if the vomit was anything to go by, you definitely drank, like, a lot last night. Maybe enough to forget? Maybe you don't even remember the nitty gritty details of what happened in that alleyway at all!

Adrian frowns, glances at his front door. Takes a peek out the window in the kitchen for any sounds of sirens. He hesitates for just a second before taking a step forward and nervously calling out your name, but then he's stopped in his tracks when you carefully round the corner.

You're wearing his clothes. Right, no, he knew that already. Just-

The t-shirt — his t-shirt — all rumpled from sleep, touching your body, and the sweatpants, too. The sight of you like this completely eclipses all other thoughts he had. Mouth hanging open and arms falling back to his sides, he watches the way your hands fidget, sees you blinking all uncertain at him, and it just makes something fierce clutch at his heart.

The only time someone has worn his clothes before was after some threesome or foursome with Peacemaker; some stoned, sloppy-smiled girl had tried on pieces of his discarded suit. Chris had snorted, called her cute, but it actually just annoyed Adrian. He remembers snapping at her, killing the mood and pissing off Chris in the process.

But this time is different. He can't explain. It's just a near-overwhelming scramble of incoherent words taking up space in his brain, turning his thoughts into radio static. The only thing he can really parse is the simple desire of wanting — needing — to see you like this again. A gentle yet insistent rhythm of mine-mine-mine thumping behind his ribs, where his heart is.

“Does my face look that bad?”

“Wha-” Adrian blinks out of his thoughts and sees you cringing. There's an uncomfortable hunch to your shoulders, and he finally notices how much... smaller you seem this morning. Not physically, no, but it's like you've shrunk in on yourself. And, maybe this is just his imagination, but the space between you two seems weirdly and incredibly vast.

“I didn't wash off my makeup last night, so I woke up looking like a raccoon. I just tried scrubbing it all off with just cold water and the- the hand soap? But now I just look like a wet raccoon, which is worse-”

“N-no, I think you look-” he sees the dark smudge of make-up ringing your eyes, now watery like you're about to cry again, and in combination with the clothes you're wearing, it's actually doing something for him, so he finishes without thinking, “kinda hot, actually.”

You stop and just stare at him, eyes widened in, what, shock? Disbelief? Chapped lips parted slightly, looking unbelievably enticing right now.

Before he can give in to the urge to march up to you and scoop your cheeks in his hands, he takes this lapse in rambling to offer you the hangover breakfast.

“I went out earlier to get you some coffee-”

“..ooh!” You hesitantly perk up.

“-black.”

“Oh,” you grumble, shoulders inching back down.

“No sugar.”

“Ughhhhh,” you practically deflate in disappointment. Maybe he was just imagining that space between you. This, right here, feels normal.

“It's what my dad used to give my mom when she was hungover. He would swear by it.”

“Used to?” Your expression changes as you take the coffee from him, so it's less disappointed, more... sad? A little mournful? “Is your dad...”

“Yeahhh,” he says, dragging out the syllable. People used to ask all the time.

“I'm so sorry, Adrian.”

What? What's with the look of heartbreak? “Why are you apologizing for my dad being gay?”

You pause, and then snort, and then you actually laugh and swat at his arm. “Tsk, you asshole! I thought- it just sounded like he was dead!”

He rubs at his arm where you hit him, watching in wonder as you giggle against the lid of the coffee cup. It's a relief, for him, to see that you haven't fully dimmed; he can still put the effulgence of laughter on your face.

But then there’s an almost imperceptible shift of your features. Frown beginning to tug at the corner of your lips, like you’ve just realized this is actually a funeral, and laughter is inappropriate right now. 

Usually, Adrian would let you feel your feelings. But there’s this desperate urge to distract you from potential negative emotions (not for any noble reasons, unfortunately), so he blurts out: “Got you a bagel, too!”

He slides the wrapped food forward, closer to the edge of the counter where you can see it, and sees with immediate relief the way your eyes widen at the sight. 

“You… got me a bagel?” you ask. Mumble, really, making the question sound more like gahhme uh-baguhh? 

“Yep! With all the hangover fixings.” 

You put down the coffee in favor of unwrapping the sandwich from the paper and aluminum foil it's contained in. It looks like tears well up in your eyes as you take in the buttery, greasy shine of the dough.

“You’re not going to cry again, are you?” He’s not sure how much more tears he could handle in such a short span of time. 

“No,” you sniffle, then take a bite, and hum, sounding nearly pornographic. “Mm. Oh, shit, dude.” Your shoulders sag, whatever tension you’d been holding this whole time finally dispelling. 

It’s not even gross that you just talked with your mouth full, not when he finally loses you to the rest of the bagel as you continue stuffing your face.

Also, he’s totally not jealous of the bagel right now. 

Well. Jealousy aside, at least this will delay any conversations about Vigilante. Sweet.

After you're done eating and complaining about the coffee (“Please let me put sugar in this. What do you mean you don't have any sugar??”) Adrian's ready to take you home. But you hesitate, eyes darting away from his, and ask if you can take a shower first. Even while unsure of how comfortable you are around him at the moment, you’d still rather be with Adrian than go back home and face your parents. 

There's a pause before he relents and grabs an extra towel for you to use. His hesitation makes you suspicious. It’s like he’s nervous about something. Another secret, perhaps? You’re tempted to confront him about the supposed roommate but bite your tongue, untrusting of your emotional state if he continues lying to your face.

These thoughts swirl around in your head as you strip down and get into the shower, being careful to keep your bandaged knee from getting too wet.

Underneath the spray of the shower, you worry, and you fret, and you zone out. Adrian Chase is your best friend. Your best friend runs around at night with a mask and weapons strapped to his person and killing people for crimes both big and small.

Adrian Chase is Vigilante, and Vigilante saved you last night, and a fresh new well of tears blurs the sight of the shower drain.  

Oh. You know Vigilante’s secret identity. Suddenly, every instance of Adrian’s visible nervousness or discomfort when talking about the renegade replays in your mind. Dread sits heavy in your chest as you realize, for the first time, that Evergreen’s unhinged vigilante technically has a reason to kill you.

No, that’s- Adrian wouldn’t. He wouldn’t hurt me.

It would explain his general shiftiness this morning…

But if he wanted to, he probably would have already. You were drunk last night, for crying out loud! Why concoct some elaborate way to dispose of you when he could’ve done it with one of the various weapons he was carrying already? 

And he brought you breakfast! And taught you how to play Dungeons & Dragons, and he stares at you like you're something wonderful. Like you matter. And maybe you've been selfishly clinging to him like a buoy in a vast, dark ocean, but yesterday was proof that there's no one else. You have no one else.

So. Adrian (probably) isn’t going to kill you. But you can’t shake the feeling that you might lose him, anyway. 

That shouldn’t be a bad thing. Severing ties with someone that you now know to be a gleeful killer (seriously, he was practically giddy about sawing off that one dude’s fingers) shouldn’t be something that fills you with profound anxiety. Despite your earlier comparison, Vigilante is no Batman. That gloomy bastard can’t possibly take even a smidgen of the joy Vigilante does when facing creeps and criminals.  

If anything, Adrian Chase is exactly the kind of vigilante that the authorities are worried all vigilantes are like. This should be deeply concerning.

Yet, that fact isn’t as troubling as the idea that Adrian might leave you.

The hot water nearly runs out by the time you shut off the shower. The drop in temperature helped to rouse you back from the brooding pit of your thoughts, but now you're worried about being an inconsiderate guest. Adrian saved your life and mended your cut and fed you, and you repay him by using up all his hot water. 

Fucking great. Your mother would chew you out if she knew.

You pad into Adrian's bedroom wearing the same clothes of his that you slept in, nearly jumping at the sight of said man standing at the side of his bed.

He beams at you. “Hey! I found your phone. Not that I, uh, not that I was looking for it.” He stumbles over his words a bit, and taps the screen where your phone sits on the nightstand. “But, uh, anyway, it died. So I put it to charge for you.”

“Oh. Thanks.” You don’t even glance at the device as you observe Adrian.

There's a change in his demeanor now, something different from before your shower. He looks almost... relieved? You frown. Is it because he gets to take you home, now?

Is he really in such a rush to get rid of you?

You shuffle closer towards him, taking Adrian aback as you don’t stop until you’re toe-to-toe with him. He visibly stiffens when you delicately pinch the bottom of his shirt, just holding the fabric between your fingers. The action is slow and soft, not bleeding of the desperation secretly coursing through your veins. 

You’ve always been careful of when to intrude on Adrian’s personal space. Unless you’re kissing, you make sure to always keep your hands to yourself. Any contact made in public is brief. Despite the loose cannon of his mouth--crude jokes and unrestrained observations--Adrian is very physically reserved. Keeping his arms at his sides, there’s an invisible barrier around him at all times. 

He’s never even held your hand.

(Not like that matters to you, much. You’ve had the pleasure of feeling his palms cup your cheeks, have felt his hands on your waist in the midst of searing kisses.)

But you need this, right now. Nothing so bold as a hug, no, but if you could just hold onto him, then maybe… maybe he won’t disappear. 

“What are you- what are we doing?” he asks, tone appropriately quiet for once, nearly breathless.

“Adrian…” You peer into his eyes. His pupils dilate, and it's almost sickening how much you enjoy the effect you have on him.

“Yeah?” 

“Sorry, I don’t…” you clear your still-hoarse throat, glancing away from his stare as you try to find the right words for the moment. Something that won’t scare him away, or give away your neediness.  

And then, remembering you’d probably be dead in a ditch right now if it weren’t for the man in front of you, you look back up at him with an earnestness so intense, you hope he really feels it. 

Just as you open your mouth to thank him, he cuts you off in a way so specifically, wonderfully Adrian: “Full disclosure, if we’re about to make out right now, I highly suggest we wait until we’re back in my car.”

The corner of your mouth twitches up into a smirk, and you tilt your head to the side just a tad. “Why? There’s a perfectly good bed right here.” You weren’t particularly in the mood to make out up until this moment, but you can’t pass up the opportunity to tease him.

Getting to see this man blush is always such a heart-fluttering thrill. 

“Because if we start kissing in my apartment, I don’t think I’ll be able to take you back home.”

There’s nothing sexy or sultry about this confession. It’s said very matter-of-factly, like it’s obvious, and this makes your heart ache something awful as a devilish grin spreads across your face. 

“I wouldn’t mind,” you mutter. Face inching closer to his, ready to seal your fate with a kiss.

Run away run away run away from your problems stay trapped in this castle by your cute, murdery captor’s side-

“How much do you remember from last night?” Adrian asks in a rush of breath, eyes squeezing shut like he’s scared of the answer.

Halting, you make a face. Shiver at the memory of strong hands palming you, hot breaths on your neck and ears. “Please don’t make me think about it.”

Adrian hesitates, but there’s something resolute about the shape of his mouth, so you take a step back with a frown.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “but I really need to know.”

The memory of that red visor and loud gunshots make you look away from him. Your arms curl protectively over your middle. “You saved me.”

Adrian nods. “And what was I wearing when I saved you?”

Your heart hammers in your chest. “You… ugh, I get it. You’re Vigilante, okay? I get it.”

He grimaces. “So you remember everything.”

“I don’t want to,” you spit out, a bitter bite to your words. “I wish I could forget. But no, I remember! I remember the- how powerless and stupid I was! I’ve never been more scared in my life! How they, how they touched me! I never knew being touched could feel so gross, it was awful and I hated it!”

The impassioned, warbly recounting of last night is enunciated by the wild gesticulating of your hands. Adrian listens with a harried expression, unused to this side of you.

(Really, he’s never seen firsthand this side of the people he’s saved. This… pain.)

“But then, but then you show up,” you continue, “my knight in scary armor-”

(“Scary?”)

“-and even knowing about Vigilante, nothing could have prepared me for all of that.”

(“My suit isn’t scary,” Adrian continues mumbling to himself. “I think it’s cool.”)

“And I should be happy! I should be happy that they’re dead but I feel guilty for some reason instead.”

You shake as the truth is finally spoken aloud, releasing a shuddering breath. 

“Guilty?” Adrian asks, no longer focusing on your comment about his suit. “Why would you feel guilty? You didn’t kill those creeps. I did.”

“You killed them for me. Blood was shed… for me.”

It’s guilt. It’s guilt enveloping your shaken heart, but another unnamed feeling that feels worse. You shove that emotion back, deep inside you.

“Well, I was going to kill them, anyway. If that makes you feel any better.”

You blink watery eyes at Adrian. That is what Vigilante does. Kill indiscriminately, regardless of the crime.

He continues, “if anyone should feel guilty, it’s me for showing up late. I went there specifically to kill them. I didn’t know you’d be there. But if I hadn’t gotten distracted before then (that Cold Brew you made me was killer, by the way) they never would have gotten the chance to lay a single fucking finger on you.”

There’s a gravelly dip to his voice at that last part that sends a shiver down your spine, more excitement than fear. 

“So, no more crying?” 

It’s a plea, anxiety clear on his face, and it’s such a silly thing. Three dangerous men in an alleyway get handled with a jubilant pep in his step, but it’s you’re crying that makes him nervous.

You snort, and then fully erupt into laughter that makes you look, admittedly, kind of crazy. It doesn’t do much to lessen the worry creasing Adrian’s brow until you stutter out a promise.

No more crying.

“Sooo… Remember how you said we’re best friends?”

Adrian’s finally taking you home. You’re trying not to let this bum you out too much. But the farther you get from his apartment, the bouncier your leg gets in the passenger seat. If the several missed calls and unanswered texts from your dad are anything to go by, home is not going to be a very welcoming place.

Last night’s clothes- well, they’re in shambles. There was no saving the torn nylon stockings, so Adrian just threw them away. The dress, too. Adrian tried convincing you that it’s just a little rip. Hell, he can fix it (“I’ve gotten really good with needles,” he said. This made your heart a little sad when you realized why.), and give it back once it’s all mended! It’d be such a waste of a pretty dress if we threw it away. 

But it just holds miserable memories of fear and loneliness. You never want to see it again.

“Mm,” you hum noncommittally, staring out the window at the gray skies of Evergreen.

Adrian seems none the wiser to the growing somberness of your mood. “Best friends keep each other’s secrets, right?”

This gets your attention. When you look, he keeps glancing very persistently at you, eyes wide and imploring behind his glasses. “...Yeah?”

“You can’t tell anyone that I’m, you know…” his voice drops to a whisper as he finishes. “Vigilante.”

“Wha- no, dude, of course not! Secret identities and all that. I get it.”

He smiles, and it is stupidly endearing, before he slips back into seriousness and returns his focus fully back to the road. “Good, because we hang out all the time. So bad people would obviously use you just to get to me.”

Somehow, this doesn’t worry you. You doubt there’s any real threat to Vigilante here in Evergreen, aside from, like, the cops. You can always just lie to the cops. So you reach across the console to pat his thigh reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Adrian. I’d never let anyone hurt you.”

The laughter that erupts from him is offensive, to say the least. You stare impassively as he thumps an open palm against the steering wheel, as if what you said was the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.

He regains a modicum of composure and manages to finally respond. “That’s cute, but I’m serious.”

You cross your arms and pout, completely miffed. So am I.

By the time Adrian pulls up to your parent’s house, your anxiety is through the roof. It feels like your heartbeat is in your mouth. It’s why you barely utter so much as a see you later to him as you unbuckle your seatbelt and get out of the car.

Ordinarily, you’d delay the ending of time spent with Adrian by grabbing his face and kissing him silly. A greedy attempt at prolonging the temporary joy you like to linger on in the feel of his lips and the warmth of his attention.

Also, like, you were a little annoyed with him for laughing at you the way he did. As if it’s so absurd you could protect him! You could. 

You have to. 

Standing at the front door, you slide the key into the lock with shaky hands. Unaware that you will come to regret skipping out on this kiss. 

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[lysenfeu]

Pair of Aces - Chapter 5. Day Five

Pair of Aces

Chapter: 5. Day Five

Rating: M

Word Count: 3.4k~

Summary: Vigilante makes a key discovery in the Butterfly's plan and our pair gets a little closer.

Chapter Content: Mentions of Violence, Bad Flirting (kind of)

A/N: This chapter is finally done thank god. It’s a little shorter than the others but these two are getting sooooo close, we’re almost at the tipping point!

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She woke up the next morning and instantly regretted it. A pounding headache and dry mouth greeted her with reminders of how much she drank the night before. She dragged herself to the bathroom, pointedly ignoring the masked man happily humming on the other side of the room. How the fuck was he so cheery? She felt like she’d been run over by a truck.

She leant over the sink and splashed cold water on her face, staring into the mirror with bleary hungover eyes.

I am never drinking again.

It was a blatant lie, the same thing she said to herself after every hangover. It never stuck but she found comfort in the little routine, berating herself for embarrassing decisions took some of the edge off. And fuck, was last night embarrassing. Embarrassing, inappropriate, unprofessional…

…super fucking hot.

She shook her head again and splashed more water on her cheeks, groaning at her slowly slipping self-control. There wasn’t time for this kind of thing, there was work to do. She quickly got dressed, took a deep breath and steeled herself for another day.

She exited the bathroom and made her way back over to the beds. She quickly picked up the bowls from the nightstand and started to walk back across the room to prepare breakfast.

“Um, do you have anything that isn’t oatmeal?” Vigilante hesitantly piped up, sitting up on his bed and watching her with the bowls.

She chuckled, moved back to her bed and set the bowls back down. “Not into another morning of maple?”

He shook his head at her as she started rummaging through her pack. “Alright, I’ve got granola bars and some apples.” She stood back up with the items in her hand and offered them to him.

He got up and grabbed a chocolate chip granola bar and an apple before moving over and sitting down on the couch. “Thanks. Do you always have so many snacks?”

She sat down next to him and unwrapped a granola bar. “Yeah, I’m pretty much always on the move so I got used to taking food everywhere with me.”

He nodded. “Makes sense. It’s really useful.” He rolled up his mask and smiled at her before taking a bite of the shiny red apple. She couldn’t help but watch as his incisors tore into the fruit, shredding the ripe flesh between his teeth.

Oh, come on! It’s too early for this.

She forced herself to avert her gaze and pulled out her phone instead, deciding to flip through her camera roll and ignore him.

“Whatcha looking at?” His muffled voice rang out through a mouthful of apple bits.

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t talk with your mouth full! I’m looking at the photos from the farmhouse.” She sighed and scrunched up her face in concentration on the images. “There’s something we’re missing, I know it. I just need to figure out what.”

He made sure he had chewed and swallowed before responding to her. “Can I take a look?”

“Go ahead.” She shrugged and handed him the phone. “It just doesn’t make sense. Absolutely no one could be living in that place, but half a dozen people came out of nowhere.” She groaned in annoyance and balled up her granola bar wrapper, throwing it on the coffee table with more force than necessary.

He didn’t respond, intently focused on the pictures of the various rooms inside the farmhouse. They sat silently for a few moments while Vig scrolled through the images. Suddenly, he turned towards her with another smile.

“There.” 

He handed back the device and pointed to the left corner. On the screen was the kitchen area of the building. It had scratched flooring and chipped counters wall to wall, with broken pipes and rusted appliances scattered around. She looked carefully at the corner Vigilante was pointing to but she didn’t see anything unusual. 

“There what? What am I looking for?”

He leaned in and tapped the screen again in the lower corner. “Look at the floorboards.” She squinted at the zoomed-in floor. In the back corner, there was a large chunk of crown moulding missing and a dark gap between the edge of the wall and the floor.

“Okay? There’s …a hole?” She was still confused.

“Back at the Goff mansion, Peacemaker and I ended up in this weird sub-basement. It was dug out underground.” Vigilante explained. “Butterflies are insects, right? I think they like to burrow.”

Her eyes lit up with understanding. “There’s something under the house!”

He nodded and grinned at her. “Exactly.”

“This might be what we’ve been missing the whole time. Come on!” She leapt off the couch and rushed over to her gear bag. “Let’s go check this out.”

Vig tossed his apple core in the garbage and grabbed his own bags. They both quickly headed out to the car and drove the short distance to the farmhouse. She was giddy with excitement at the possible discovery, hopeful it would explain what the fuck was happening out here.

She was the first one in the house this time, making sure it was still empty and undisturbed from their last visit the day before. Vigilante followed her in and they made their way to the kitchen to inspect that gap in the floorboards. He leaned down and closely examined the missing moulding and cracked floor before straightening up.

“There’s definitely something under here, give me a hand?”

She leaned down next to him and they both pried at the flooring. Several pieces pulled away and exposed the edge of a wooden plank stuck underneath. They worked together to pull more pieces away and slowly uncovered the full plank, revealing it to be a hatch with a metal pull ring in the center. Vig kicked away some of the debris from the corner, trying to clear a path around the edges.

She was briefly distracted by the fact he was using his right foot. “Hey, you’re not limping anymore? Is your foot okay?”

He looked over at her and then down at his right foot. “Oh! Yeah, it’s all better now.” She raised an eyebrow at him suspiciously and he tried to reassure her. “Seriously, it’s fine. I barely even notice it anymore.”

it wasn’t the right moment for this conversation so she let it slide, filing it away under the ‘weird Vigilante things’ mental folder she’d been slowly compiling the whole trip. Focusing back on the hatch, they finally got it free and were able to tug it open. The hatch revealed a ladder that descended into pitch-black darkness deep underneath the house.

“Holy shit, you were right.” She gave him an incredulous look before staring down into the dark pit.

“I’ll go first.” Vig was already stepping down onto the ladder while fishing out a flashlight from his utility belt. 

“Be careful.”

He nodded at her before continuing on his descent, the torch lighting up the way down. After a minute or so she heard him hit the bottom and call up to her it was safe. She took a deep breath and started climbing down after him, grateful for the light he was shining for her.

When she reached the bottom, she steadied herself and tried to look around but the darkness enveloped everything outside the torch’s range. Vigilante was swinging the light around, looking for something.

“Here we go!” He exclaimed and lights flooded the area. 

He had found a switch and dozens of overhead lamps all flickered on simultaneously, giving them a fully lit view of the space. She spun around, taking in the strange environment as best she could. It looked to be a large cavern, dug straight into the ground with strategically placed supports and beams holding it together.

“Stay close, we don’t know how deep this place goes.” He cautioned her and she agreed. Burrowing was definitely the correct word for this place, it was like a maze of tunnels. The hallways were wide enough for them to walk side by side as they explored the underground base. There were over a dozen long tunnels all connected with twists and turns through the space. Knocked-over crates, empty glass jars and several industrial hand trucks littered the floors and corners but she didn’t see anything else. 

She tried to keep track of where there were going but quickly got turned around, everything looked the damn same. …except for that one.

“Hey, look!” She grabbed his arm and pointed to her left. She had spotted another ladder, different than the one they had climbed down initially. She tugged him over towards it and looked up, seeing another wooden hatch at the top.

Without a word, Vigilante grabbed onto the ladder and started the climb.

“Be careful, you don’t know what’s up there!” She called up to him as he pushed open the hatch and poked his head through.

“Oh, fuck!” Vig yelled out and ducked down, quickly closing the hatch behind him and racing back down the ladder.

“What happened? Are you ok?”

He was coughing and trying to take deep breaths through his mask. “It leads to that pasture I shot all the Butterflies in. The bodies are still there.” He gagged again. “Out in this heat, it’s fucking disgusting.”

She grimaced in sympathy, having dealt with her share of corpses before. She grabbed one of the crates laying around and turned it over so they could both sit down.

“What the fuck is this place?” She sighed. There was so much new information from their discovery but she was still confused. These tunnels were clearly how they got all those people into the house without anyone seeing them. But what for?

“Why would they drive to the pasture if they had these tunnels?” She closed her eyes and tried to remember exactly what had happened the other day. Seven people had come out, gotten in the truck and driven to the pasture. Then they…what did they do? Before Vig shot them, they did something. What was it?

She was interrupted from her thoughts by Vigilante suddenly shoving her off the crate. 

“Hey! What the fu-” She started to yell at him but she quickly shut up as he kicked the crate over and reached inside. He pulled out what looked to be a clipboard that had been stuck in one of the broken slats on the crate. Flipping it over, he held it out so they could both see it. Big bold letters marked the top of the page clipped to the board.

GLEN TAI BOTTLING COMPANY - DELIVERY INVOICE

The words stared back at her. What was Glen Tai? Deliveries?

“The bottles.” Vig spoke quietly and she turned to look at him. “They’re transporting crates of those glass jars with liquid inside them.”

That was what the Butterflies were doing in the pasture, she remembered now. They pulled jars out of a crate and ingested something from them. She looked around at all the tunnels surrounding them, at all the broken crates and jars on the ground.

“This is a food transport system.” 

She understood now. Well, as much as she understood anything to do with the Butterflys currently. What she did know was they weren’t fully human, they needed this liquid and they were definitely using these tunnels to distribute it.

She looked over at Vig and he was staring down at the clipboard still. 

“There’s a delivery scheduled for tomorrow.” He handed her the invoice and she quickly scanned the page. It looked like they had regular deliveries to this area, coming in and out through the farmhouse and god knows where else through these tunnels. Lucky for them, there was a drop-off listed for the following afternoon.

“Well, then I guess we’ll have to come visit them tomorrow!” She sounded chipper at the thought.

Vigilante cocked his head to the side in confusion. “And do what?”

She looked at him with a grin. “And kill every single last one of them.”

They raced back through the tunnels, only getting lost twice which felt like an accomplishment. Surfacing in the dilapidated farmhouse they quickly headed back to the Sebring.

He stopped before opening the car door and turned towards her. “Hey, I know we didn’t kill anyone today but can we still get pizza?”

She thought for a moment, then smiled at him. “Okay, sure. Finding that hatch was a stroke of genius so I’ll agree to a victory pizza. Same toppings as last time?” 

Vigilante nodded happily as they hopped in and he pulled the car onto the main road, heading toward the town. A short stop at the pizza place and they were back in the motel enjoying the hot pepperoni and mushroom goodness.

They ate mostly in silence, deeply engrossed in the food after a long day exploring weird caves. It was a comfortable silence, they were both trying to understand exactly what was happening down there and what would go down tomorrow. 

She eyed the pizza sitting on the coffee table. She knew she had finished her half of the pizza but there was one slice left in the box, taunting her. He wouldn’t mind, right? It was just one slice. She reached over and quickly snagged it out of the box, consequences be damned.

“Hey, that was mine!” She glanced over at the outburst, his outrage at her thievery evident. She raised the slice to her mouth in defiance but froze when she saw the deadly serious look on his face. His jaw was clenched and his eyes narrowed behind the red visor glass, staring her down. 

Oh shit.

She leapt up from the couch and tried to quickly move the slice in her hand far away from him before he pounced. Unfortunately, he was faster than her and managed to snake his arms around her waist, pulling her back into him and preventing her escape.

"Stealing is a crime you know!" He growled in her ear.

She froze again, completely distracted by how he was pressed into her and holding her firmly in place against him. She could feel the heat from his body radiating through his t-shirt as he tugged her into his solid grip.

He slid one arm out to grab her elbow and pull her arm back towards him, trying to maneuver the pizza slice into his open mouth for a bite. She quickly realized his intentions and twisted away, trying to break his grip at the last second. He refused to let her go and was pulled forward, sinking his teeth into her shoulder instead of the pizza.

He stilled immediately, teeth still clamped onto her skin. He expected to be met with the usual 'No biting!' like Peacemaker always yelled, or at least some sort of angry response. Instead, she reacted by arching into him with a barely disguised whimper escaping from the back of her throat. Surprised, he slowly released her shoulder from the clutch of his teeth.

She immediately started to yell at him, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "What the fuck!"

"I was aiming for the food!"

"Well, you fucking missed!" She hissed, renewing her struggle against his hold.

He wrapped his free arm back around her ribs and forced her to hold still while he leaned in, muttering lowly in her ear. "...did you enjoy that?"

“Dude, what the hell!” She protested strongly, this was not a conversation she wanted to have right now.

“What? It sure sounded like it, I want to know.” 

She flailed even harder against him trying to get away. “Just let me go!” 

"Nuh-uh." He chastised her attempt and gripped her even harder, pulling her tight against his chest. "Food for your freedom, those are the terms."

"I don't negotiate with terrorists!" All her efforts to break out of his hold were futile, but she was hoping the movement would help disguise just how hard she was breathing.

"Is this you being terrorized?" He laughed right by her ear, his breath ghosting against the cool streak of saliva still decorating the imprint he left on her shoulder. Shivers raced down her spine at the sudden sensation and she stopped struggling, still trapped in his arms.

"How about this, give me the pizza and I'll bite you again." He stated plainly, in that cursed nonchalant tone.

"Don't you mean or? Like a threat?"

"Nope." 

She could practically hear the grin on his face widen.

Oh goddammit.  

If he hadn’t been holding her up, she’s certain she would have fallen on the floor with how quickly her knees are turning to jelly. She needed this to stop before she made a mistake.

“Don’t. Just take it.” She mumbled and raised the slice in her hand back towards him without looking, then went limp in his arms. “Please let me go now.”

He immediately dropped his grasp on her and slowly took the piece of pizza. She stepped away, trying to put as much distance between them as she could. He frowned, watching her practically run away from him. 

“Hey. I was just teasing, you didn’t have t-”

She cut him off with a shake of her head. “It’s your slice! I just don’t feel well, still kind of hungover.” 

He relaxed a little but still looked at her warily.  “Do you need anything?”

“Um, water maybe?” She was surprised at his offer but she was in fact thirsty.

He nodded and walked over to the nightstand, grabbing one of the leftover glasses from the previous evening with one hand while he munched on his recovered slice of pizza. He filled the glass with water from the tap and brought it out to her.

“Thanks.” She sipped the water slowly. There was a moment of silence between them, broken up only by Vig chewing the last few bites of the food.

Eventually, she broke the slightly tense atmosphere with a question she thought would distract him. “So, for tomorrow. What kind of firepower do you think we’ll need?”

She was correct, he jumped at the question and spent the next few hours going through every single weapon the two of them had brought. She bit her tongue and let him pick up each and every blade in her cases, listening as he explained exactly how he would use each one in their mission tomorrow. He wanted to bring everything, who knows what they would need? She cautiously reminded him they couldn’t carry all of that down with them and that they needed to prioritize.

“You can’t bring thirty-seven blades with you Vig. You only have two hands, come on.”

“But they’re all different!” He whined. “What if we need a specific knife and you didn’t let me bring it and then the whole thing goes to shit and we both die? What then!”

She crossed her arms. “We are not going to die because I didn’t let you bring both a four-inch and a six-inch model of the same damn knife.”

“You don’t know that!”

“The great and talented Vigilante, taken down because of a slightly too short knife?” She raised an eyebrow at him and grinned. “I thought you were better than that.”

He scowled at her, easily rising to the bait. “It wouldn't be my fault, it would be yours but fine! I’ll just have to use my awesome skills to compensate for your unreasonably limited weapon choices.”

She rolled her eyes as she packed away the ten knives she had allowed him to select from her collection. He did have decent taste, the selection contained several of her favourites. She placed them in her large duffel bag next to the stash of guns, ammo and adhesive explosives that Task Force X had included in their gear. Those would be coming in especially handy for tomorrow.

Vig called out to her after she had finished with the gear. “Get some sleep, you’ll need it.”

She gave him a small smile as thanks, flicked off the lights and crawled into bed. Before she closed her eyes and drifted off, she gently ran a finger over the small mark on her shoulder and thought about the man across the room responsible for it. She just had to survive one more night with him. 

Just one more night.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A/N: These two, I swear to god. Idiots, the both of them lol. Just one night left! Let me know what you think so far :)

[Read Next Chapter]

TAG LIST: @pretendfan @dallasvakarian @she-wolf09231982 @fatherdannydevito @tsukette @afraidofshrimp

#adrian chase #vigilante #peacemaker #adrian chase fanfiction #vigilante fanfiction #freddie stroma #fanfiction #lysenfeu fics #pair of aces fic #adrian chase fanfic #adrian chase fic #adrian chase x female reader #adrian chase x reader #vigilante x reader #vigilante fanfic #vigilante fic #vigilante x female reader

[lovelesslittleloser]

Hermitcraft vigilante fic where Grian is simultaneously a civilian who teaches architecture, a vigilante named Cuteguy, and a villain named Poultry Man, who flirts with Scar in all three forms, flustering him in his two

#hermicraft #hermitshipping #vigilante fic #grian #scar #gtws #desert duo #scarian #cuteguy #poultry man #hotguy #he stops commits and is tired of crime #he also has just no free time. unless #nah who am I kidding #grian? with good time management? ha #someone please write this #doitdoitdoitdoit

[vigsilantes]

instincts (adrian chase x reader)

Pairing: Adrian Chase / Vigilante x Reader Summary: On a mission with the team looking for more butterflies, you and Adrian get split up and tortured. Word Count: 3.2k+ Tags: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Reader-Insert, Post-Canon, Post Season 1, Idiots in Love, Happy Ending, Fluff, Comfort Warnings: swearing, gore, blood, knifes, torture

~masterlist~ >>>(read on ao3)<<<

This wasn’t how the night was supposed to go, like at all. Last week, Harcourt had scoped out a group of butterflies trying to regain power on the other side of Gotham. From your extensive research you learned that there wasn't many of them, but they had a stock supply of that nectar to keep them alive, and they had somehow turned a few more people into butterflies since you began looking into them. They set up base in a shoddy warehouse, and from what John has found, there’s dirt tunnels underground with many points of entrance into it. The plan was to go to Gotham, set up camp in the city for the day, and make your way through the tunnels under the warehouse. Then from there, kill everyone and destroy the nectar. Easy plan, or at least it was supposed to be easy.

At two in the morning, you would be breaking into the warehouse to execute the plan. You and Adrian were assigned together to go to one entrance, and Harcourt, Adebayo, and Chris were together for another entrance. You and Adrian were always paired together, it's never even a question if you'll be put together, you were partners before even joining the team, so you work the best when you’re with each other. You had a plan all set up, Vig would go in first and you would cover from behind... until things went south. You weren’t even entirely sure what happened. Mere seconds after walking into the underground tunnel, a strange green gas was omitted.

“What the fuckkk?” Adrian coughed, and you began feeling lightheaded. He started puttering around, and you grabbed onto each other for stability. Your throat was itchy, and you started coughing up a lung.

“Shit,” you lost your balance, and fell, still in a fit of coughs. Adrian tried reaching down to catch you from falling, but he also collapsed onto the ground next to you.

“Cover your…” Adrian began, but you couldn’t hear the rest of what he said, you could only make out a sharp ringing in your ears, then all you saw was darkness.

-

When you woke up you were sitting upright in a chair. Your hands were tied behind you, and when you tried moving, you felt that your legs were bound as well. The binds were tight; you knew it wasn’t going to be easy getting out of this. There was nothing and no one around you, no sign of Adrian, and all you saw was what seemed to be a table of torture tools, great. The room was cold, obsolete, and for just being in an underground tunnel, the room looked furnished. Your eyes fell to the ground and you saw the various amounts of weapons you arrived with, including your backup knife that you keep strapped to your thigh. Adrian was the one who made the strap for your backup knife in case of emergencies, he had one of his own, and it's come in handy before, but you somehow felt violated because they took it off of you.

You also noticed your crushed earpiece in front of you, which meant you were completely cut off from the team- You were cut off from Adrian. You have no clue how long you were unconscious, which only added on to your already horrific anxiety. You kept trying to wiggle out of your binds knowing it was hopeless, but seconds later a woman walked in. She was tall, had short dark hair, and wore a police uniform... she's hot. But her face was cold, stoic, with no expression at all- she was a butterfly.

“It’s not even worth trying, you’re not going anywhere,” she slyly said, standing over you.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Doesn’t matter. I need to know who you are, and what you have to do with A.R.G.U.S.” She demanded and walked behind you, she waved to the door. A hefty man walked in, and your eyes immediately fell to his hands, he was wearing brass knuckles. You knew what was ahead of you, but you couldn’t break and spill anything about the team.

“What even is A.R.G.U.S.?” you asked, with sarcasm dripping in your voice. They already knew you knew about A.R.G.U.S., and they also knew that you most likely wouldn’t talk. The woman scoffed, not amused by your answer, then the man stepped forward, and just as expected, he punched you in the face. You screamed out, his knuckles hitting your eye.

“Wanna talk now?” the lady questioned, you shook your head, you weren’t going to break, and the man hit you again, this time across the nose. This back and forth continued, questions being asked with you avoiding answers, which also meant the pain continued. Blood was dripping from your face, and you felt like could pass out at any moment.

"Why don't you go in for a hit, hotstuff?" you grumbled, with your eyes on fire, purposely trying to anger her. Just as the man was about to go in for another punch, the lady stopped him.

“Since you won’t talk, time to make this a little more fun, what do you think?” She walked towards you and smiled, then spit in your face. Next, as if on cue, the man grabbed a wooden bat from the torture table. Questions weren’t even asked this time, the man just repeatedly swung the bat at your stomach, then your arm, then your leg, it’s as if there wasn’t a spot that he wasn’t hitting. Pain echoed in your body as you cried out, begging for him to stop. You were hazy, barely even conscious at this point, when you heard a noise from outside. Hope sparked in you, and you practically forced yourself to stay awake. The woman instructed the man to stay with you then ran outside, leaving the door open. You heard a screech; you peered over at the door to see the lady fall to the ground with a knife in her head. The man briefly looked at you, then straightened himself, readying for a fight. You heard a familiar grunt from outside, it belonged to Adrian, who was maskless and bloodied, standing over the butterfly.

“Vig,” you whispered, his face lightened up when he heard you.

“Now this,” he started, sounding tired, “is so not cool of you, man.” Adrian had a knife in his hand, you recognized it as his thigh knife, and hobbled towards the man. The guy backed up a bit and still looked ready to fight, but before he could even make a move, Adrian flung the knife right between his eyes, and he instantly dropped. Adrian grabbed a slightly larger knife from the torture table and ran towards you.

“Oh shit – honey, are you alright?” he asked, as he began cutting your ties. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, this was not supposed to happen, you-you shouldn’t be hurt, it wa-”

“Hey, why are you apologizing, Vig? How the hell were we supposed to know that they had poisonous, alien gas?” you interrupted. He looked up at you.

“But-”

“No!” you stopped him and now with your arms free you lightly held his beaten face. “You saved me, okay? No apologizing,” you comforted him, and he got your legs free.

“Okay,” he nodded, you pulled him in for a hasty kiss. “We gotta get out of here, babe, I already killed like five of them but looking at the state of this place I’m guessing there’s like a shit ton more of them and I really don’t want to meet them” he said, you agreed. “Can you walk?”

“Uhh let’s see,” you stood up with Adrian’s help, he made sure you didn’t fall, he’s so protective of you. You steadied yourself, your leg was hurt but luckily not broken. “Yeah, I can manage,” you said, and you recollected all of the weapons that they took from you. As Adrian grabbed some from the table, you looked over at him, “Hold on, where’s your mask?”

“I-I don’t know they took it, and it wasn’t in the room I was in, which sucksss I really hope we can find it… I feel naked without it on,” he complained, “wait yours is gone too,” he noticed.

“It doesn’t matter, let’s just get the fuck outta here!” you said, and he agreed, but you paused as you looked at your boyfriend, noticing something missing from his face. “Where are your glasses?” you wondered how he was even seeing clearly.

“This giant ass butterfly-guy broke them... hit me right in my safety pouch, which was totally rude, but it’s fine,” he admitted, so he couldn’t see clearly. “I have another pair at home, let’s just go, babe.” You agreed, and slowly, you made your way through various hallways, putting knives in every single head you saw. It took a lot of energy, more energy than either of you even had, but your adrenaline was through the roof, so you both managed to sneak out. Sneaking around unnoticed is something you both do incredibly well, and it came in handy. It was a skill that took lots of practice, like way too much time mastering, but it always proved to be well worth it.

With Adrian in front of you, you reached the end of a strange half-dirt, half-furnished hallway, he opened a door, and as you exited you noticed you were somewhere in the woods, not near the tunnel you entered. You managed to run a bit so you could get away from the tunnel, but after a few minutes you both had to take a breather. The air was brisk, but it felt good to breathe in, and the sun was just beginning to rise.

“Holy shit how long were we there?” you question in between breaths, knowing it must have been at least a few hours.

“Fuck, man,” Adrian said and looked around you, “I don’t even know where the hell to go,” he started laughing, and for some delusional reason you giggled too. “This is a fucking mess, babe, and where the fuck is the team?” he questioned, which you wondered too. It didn’t matter for the moment though, because the two of you were safe, and the two of you were together. He ripped his glove off and stepped in close to you, looking down at you, squinting because he didn’t have his glasses. Gently lifting his hand, he wiped blood away from under your nose, and observed the damage on your face. You did the same, seeing how badly he had been beat up, and it was bad. His left eye was puffy, and you could tell that it will certainly bruise badly, he had blood all over his face and crusted in his hair, mostly from his small wounds, but some of it was from the unlucky butterflies he ran into, and his lip was cracked. You softly touched his lip and he leaned down to kiss you. Barely separating from you, he said “We’re both a mess, huh,” you nodded and smiled, he went in for another embrace.

You were interrupted from your kiss by leaves crunching behind you. You instantly jumped away from Adrian and raised your knife. He did the same, squinting so he could somehow see who was in front of you. It wasn’t completely light out yet, so it was still fairly hard to see. And you were beaten to shit, nearly passing out, so that didn’t help either.

“Hey shit, hold on, it’s me!” you heard a familiar voice say, it was Adebayo. You and Adrian lowered your weapons. She walked over to you, she looked beat up herself, “Oh, thank fuck,” she said to you, “I found them!” she spoke into her comms.

“What the fuck happened?!” Adrian asked while raising his arms in confusion, wondering why she was hurt and also why no one saved you guys.

“Fuckk man, we all got gassed when we entered, and beat up too, which wasn’t fun. But me, Em, and Chris were all in the same tunnel, which was a different one from where we entered, and once we escaped, we had no clue where they took you guys. You two weren’t in the tunnel you were assigned, and we –couldn’t find you.” She took a deep breath. “Fuck, it was wild, too many fuckin’ tunnels, but I’m happy you two made it out,” she exhaustedly smiled.

“Okay, well, it’s good to know you guys were looking for us,” you joked, Adebayo laughed. Suddenly, headlights appeared, and you saw that it was the van. John pulled up right next to you three, and the back door opened to show Emilia and Chris. They looked stunned.

“Woahhh, you two look like shit!” Chris said, always loving to point out the obvious. He and Em were also roughed up but not nearly as bad as you or Adrian. Adebayo got in the van and motioned for Chris and Em to help you guys.

“Yeah, well we had our asses handed to us, and our masks taken, andddd my glasses broken in half, but we still got out, no thanks to you guys.” Adrian dryly pointed out, as he helped you up into the van. Emilia assisted you in, you moaned, pain shooting through your whole body, and Adrian groaned as he climbed in as well.

“Oh, we have your masks,” Emilia turned around and rifled through a bag, “yeah, we uh, found your masks, but no sign of you guys, which honestly wasn’t a good thing to see,” she faced you and had your masks in her hands. “Glad you’re okay,” she smiled, and handed your masks to you both. Adrian’s face lit up. You knew he was happy to have that back, as his prescription visor is very difficult to make, and he is extremely cautious about his identity. You and Adrian sat down, and Emilia got out the med kit.

“We looked through all these fuckin' tunnels for you guys, and killed a shit ton of butterflies, but we didn’t know where the hell you were,” Chris said, you knew he was worried for you both. You leaned your head on Adrian’s shoulder, and he took your hand.

“Well, thank you guys for looking,” you offer, you knew they tried. “There were wayyy more of them than we thought…” you trailed off.

“Yeah, like what the hell? How were there even that fucking many of them… total bullshit!” Adrian chimed in.

“Yeah...” Adebayo said softly, “We underestimated how many there were…”

“Well, they’re all fuckin’ dead now!” Chris added. Emilia kneeled down to you and Adrian, studying your faces to see how injured you were. She lifted a small flashlight from the med kit and shined it in your eyes as you looked back at her. She then motioned for you to give her your hand, she gently took it, and looked closely at it. Without saying anything, she then looked down at Adrian’s leg, which prompted you to look down at it, and he was bleeding. She pressed a towel down on his leg to help stop the bleeding.

“Yeah, you two are really fucked up. John, go to the nearest hospital,” she said sternly, he shook his head. “Looks like you both have concussions, but nothing is too serious” she reassured you, seems about right. "But still, just to be safe we should get you guys treated..." Your adrenaline was beginning to crash as your head rested on Adrian’s shoulder, and you could start to feel how much pain you were really in.

“I didn’t even realize how fucked up we were,” you admitted, only loud enough for Adrian and Em to hear “I’m absolutely close to passing out at like anyyy moment,” you huffed a laugh and Em softly smiled. She then moved up next to John to give you and Adrian some space.

“Six minutes till we’re there!” John announced, you were close. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Chris look over at the map on John's phone.

“Oooh, it’s where we went after the butterflies last time!” Chris said, with pep in his voice, “You think they’ll remember us?” he joked, everyone chuckled except for Adrian. He didn’t even seem to be listening, he was only focusing on you.

He whispered your name, “I-I didn’t notice how badly hurt you are,” Adrian said, his voice soft, you could hear in his voice that was also in pain. You reassured him with an “It’s okay,” but he still felt bad. “Here, I’ll get the med kit and get a band aid and-”

“No, we’re almost there, it’s alright, just… just sit with me,” you asked, and he didn’t have it in him to do otherwise. You paused for a second and lifted your head from his shoulder. “How the hell did you even see without your glasses, babe?” you softly asked, meeting his gaze.

“Barely could,” he quickly admitted, “but I just thought about getting to you, so my instincts just took over, I think,” he said, you blushed. “Anddd I can aim and throw a knife with my eyes closed, so it wasn’t all that hard. I just had to kill anyone who wasn’t you.”  

“Wow, so you like... have superpowers,” you joked, and he laughed. God, you could listen to him laugh for eternity.

“Maybe… I guess all I have to do is think about you to activate them, seems totally possible.”

“Mhmmm, my hero!” you smiled. He never took his eyes off you, but he looked at you intently and held your face, analyzing your injuries.

“You’re really hurt, like, you know I love your face, like sooooo much, more than anything, but you look super fucked up right now…” Adrian said, you chuckled.

“Right back at you. Your eye’s like... half-closed, babe.” He nodded, and you traced small circles in his hand to ease his anxiety – doing this relaxed you too for some reason. “I’ll be alright… we’re gonna be alright, we’ve been in worse shape than this.”

“True, at least I’m not missing any body parts this time… Remember last time with Goff? That suckedddd,” Adrian smirked. “My toe still hasn’t healed right,” he whined, he’s still a bit pissed about that whole situation, as he should be, Goff was out of line for electrocuting you two and for cutting part of Ade's toe off. He kissed your forehead, and you then rested your head back on his shoulder again. He slid his arm around you and pulled you in closer to him. “I love ya, honey,” he softly whispered to you.

“Love you too, Adrian,” you hummed. You began blinking heavily, and you slowly shut your eyes, feeling comfortable with your head in this all too familiar resting spot. You knew you were going to be okay, and more importantly, you knew that Adrian was going to be okay. You felt safe being close to him, in his arms, and you eventually passed out.

#adrian chase x reader #adrian chase #vigilante x reader #vigilante #peacemaker hbo #freddie stroma #adrian chase x you #peacemaker #vigilante peacemaker #adrian chase fluff #hurt/comfort #adrian chase x gender neutral reader #vigilante fic #adrian chase fic #dcu

[kywritess]

Bleeding Red

Introduction Chapter

K.Bakugo x Vigilante reader

warning. vigilante!reader, angst, violence, prohero!Bakugo, aged up (early 20's)

A/N. Hi everyone! This is a short introduction to a Bakugo x Reader fic I have been working on, Bleeding Red. My brain has been in overdrive the past few months coming up with ideas. I hope you guys love this concept as much as I do. I am very open to criticism and would love to hear what you guys think. Also keep in mind that this is just an introduction, the first chapter of this fic will be out by the end of the week. Thank you and happy reading!

.......................................................................................................

In the buslting city of Musutafu, there lived a vigilante named Y/N Kiyoshi. With her lighting fast reflexes, immortality, and unwavering sense of justice she single-handedly fought off villains and saved countless lives. The people of Musutafu idolized the masked vigilante, considering her the epitome of bravery and virtue.

Y/N, once a student at U.A., dedicated her life to protecting the innocent and upholding the law. However, as time went on, she grew increasingly frustrated with the flaws and limitations of the hero society. She witnessed criminals exploiting loopholes and escaping justice, leaving the innocent to suffer. Her faith in the system began to crumble.

One fateful night, while pursuing a gang of notorious criminals alongside a fellow student, she found herself face-to-face with the corrupt Chief of police, who had been secretly aiding the very criminals she was meant to apprehend. The man, known as Kenji Tsuragamae, sneered at the girl, revealing the depth of corruption within the system. Consumed by anger and disillusionment, Y/N realized that relying soley on the law was no longer enough to combat the deep-rooted corruption plaguing the city. 

In that moment, a profound transformation overcame her. The once trusted second year U.A. student made a decision that would change her life forever. She shed her brightly colored costume and put on a mask, vowing to take justice into her own hands. Three years later she became the shadow that struck fear into the hearts of criminals- a vigilante fighting for justice beyond the confines of the law.

Donning a new identity, Y/N became known as Nova, the enigmatic vigilante of Musutafu. Armed with her unparalled combat skills and a newfound ruthlessness, she lurked in the darkness, targeting villains who believed they were above the law. Nova's methods were unorthodox, often toeing the line between right and wrong, but she believed that the ends justified the means.

As Nova, Y/N operated from the shadows, carefully gathering intelligence and targeting the most dangerous criminals who had evaded the laws grasp. With each successful takedown and kill, her reputation grew among the city's oppressed and disillusioned citizens. While some feared her and her methods, others saw her as a symbol of hope- a symbol that justice could prevail even in the face of a broken system.

As the city's crime rate plummeted and corrupt officials found themselves exposed, Her alter ego became a thorn in the side of the establishment. The hero society, torn between gratitude for her work, and the exposure of the law. Nova had targets on her back, Pro Heroes that wanted her gone. 

Yet, the girl remained resolute. She had seen the true face of corruption, and was determined to tear it down, brick by brick. While she acknowledged that her methods were controversial, she firmly believed that they were necessary to protect the innocent and bring the justice to Musutafu.

So, what happens when the number one hero Endeavor, hands Nova an ultimatum? Having to choose between freedom or the thing that she holds deep down in her heart. She knows what must be done, but can she successfully do it without hurting the ones she loves the most?

#bakugo katsuki #bakugo #bakugo fic #vigilante fic #my hero academia #bnha #bakugou x reader #vigilante x reader #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x you #introductory post

[chaseadrian]

blown up, shot, and taking a knee

It’s been over a week since you last saw Adrian, a reality that you’d accepted once you discovered he was Vigilante, but when he shows up at your window in a hospital gown you wonder if the risk is worth the reward.  @peacemakernet​​​ EVENT 02: once more, with feeling!​​  ➤ surprise

pairing: adrian chase x afab!reader rating: 18+ ONLY, explicit, established relationship, post-canon timeline, hurt/comfort, vague angst word count: 3.7k+ a/n: the week he’s gone is the week that the show takes place in, so if the fact that he had a threesome w chris isn’t your jam then we can pretend that didn’t happen here lol 

You saw yourself threading your fingers through Adrian’s, watching how the light between the window slats shifted over his skin. His bare back pressed against your torso, your arm tucked underneath his neck as you both lay on your old mattress. You’re well overdue for a replacement, but there’s something about the way it’s taken to your bodies, the imprint that never goes away. 

It’s a space that belongs to you and Adrian, reminds you of his presence when he’s away. It’s not the most comfortable, or soft, but it’s what you could afford when you first moved in together. So it stays. 

You wished Adrian could do the same. 

He’d been gone for over a week, but you stared at your outstretched hand, and you could almost see the curve of his fingers in yours. The pressure of the pillow next to you was a pale filler for the real thing, but if you closed your eyes, if you played his laugh in your head, it was almost like he was here. 

You knew what you signed up for when you found out what he did in his spare time. The first time he didn’t come home and you got a call from the hospital, the nurse on the other end of the line explaining that they’d found him stabbed on a sidewalk in his underwear. Your mind had gone to the worst possibilities. He was fooling around with someone else and they’d gotten pissed off, or he’d been pinned by one of the several underground drug rings around here. 

But then he asked you to look in the trunk of his car, in the space where a spare tire should be, and there was the suit you’d seen several times on the news. You grappled with the reality of the situation for less time than you would’ve expected, but looking at Adrian, seeing all the smiles and oddities and “I love you’s” and the life you’d built together, you couldn’t walk away. 

So here you were, in bed alone, on a day when the space of his absence was more blistering cut than dull pain. It didn’t matter what precautions he took, how much he trained, even the abnormal fact that Adrian healed from his wounds while he slept, you still worried. 

The quiet tapping on your bedroom window startled you out of your thoughts, and you shot up, eyes darting to the muddy shadow behind the curtain. You reached for the knife velcroed to the back of the nightstand, a precaution Adrian had introduced you to. At first it seemed like paranoia, but then he ended up in the hospital and everything made sense. 

Sliding out of bed, you approached the window with caution. Sure, a bad guy wasn’t apt to gently knock on the window, but that didn’t ease all your worries. 

The sight of baby blue piqued your interest (didn’t bad guys usually wear black, or was that a trick of the movies?) and you flicked open the curtains to see Adrian in a hospital gown with his hands on the windowsill, head turning back and forth, hoping the bushes he was currently squished behind were obscuring him from the neighborhood. You were quick to open the window, pulling him in by his wrists before he could get a word in. 

He toppled over the sill onto the floor with an oof! and a smile, “Hi.” 

“Adrian. What—what’s going on? Why are you in a hospital gown?” You crouched down to meet him, hand fumbling over the shapeless cloth until you found his knee. 

“Huge story. Do you have the TV remote? They’re probably showing it on there again.” He looked around the room, standing up and leaving you to plop down on the floor, your mind not quite catching up with the sight of Adrian in front of you, ripping off his gown as he grabbed the remote and flicked on the TV. He flipped through the channels in his underwear, left hand moving to his hip, massaging the skin before he caught you staring. 

“Sore from fighting.” His eyes widened, “Look!” He nodded towards the TV and you saw a woman standing in front of several microphones. 

Both the Peacemaker, and the costumed crime-fighter Vigilante, were working in a deep cover operation for the US Government called Project Butterfly. This is all part of a black ops program known as Task Force X, where convicted criminals are undertaking dangerous missions for the United States in exchange for time off their sentences. It’s been running for years out of Belle Reve Prison, under the command of a woman named Amanda Waller, who happens to be my mother. Now I’m calling for an immediate investigation into the inhumane abuse of power…

You slowly got up from the floor, “Wh—I don’t understand. Project Butterfly? Is that where you were this whole time? I thought Chris was in prison I—” You paused, sitting on the edge of the bed a few feet away from Adrian. 

“He was, but he got shot in the throat and almost died, and they sent him back here and this other mercenary, Murn, helped us with an alien invasion. Why a deep state alien operation would choose Evergreen, Washington, of all places, well. You’re smarter than me so tell me when you figure it out, but basically I got to be part of an actual superhero team and we killed this giant cow and saved the world. And I did get shot in the process.” 

“What?!” You shot up, but he bridged the gap and put his hands on your shoulders. 

“I slept it off! I’m okay! I passed out at the hospital because Harcourt got really shot like, in-a-coma shot. And I woke up in a hospital bed but I’m here now and I gotta tell you something really really important.” 

You were still wrapping your head around the entire situation, your eyes coasting over Adrian’s body, all signs of injury gone. It was just his typical muscles, unmarked and free of scars. Over the time you’d known him, there was no reason to question him because he never bruised. Never hurt, never scarred. If he came home with a scabbed over slice from work it was flaking off by the next morning. Even after learning he was Vigilante, you knew better than to ask questions about the scrapes you cleaned or the ripped fingernails you bandaged. He insisted, always, that he was fine. Just needed a nap, but you also insisted, dragging him to the bathroom to fix him up. Not a word about what caused it. 

He was adamant that it would put you in danger, that people would come after you, and it was easier to assume he was right. 

But this was too absurd to ignore. Gone for over a week, was apparently shot, and now there’s this woman on the news saying Adrian was involved in some black ops team? 

“Adrian, I uh, I know we don’t talk about what you do as Vigilante but this is too much.” You broke away from his grasp, pacing back and forth as the TV continued on in the background, a deep dive into Amanda Waller’s public history with the government. Your eyes flicked to the commentary and you brought a hand to your mouth, chewing on your thumbnail. 

He sat down on the edge of the bed and reached for you, pulling you by the elbow to sit next to him. 

“I can tell you about it. I’ll probably need a new suit anyway so the whole ‘secret identity’ thing isn’t totally moot.” 

“What happened to your suit?” “Kinda got blown up.” 

“What?!” You tried to get up again, but Adrian planted his hands on your biceps and kept you there. “It’s okay! I’ll tell you everything, I promise.” 

“Okay.” You settled back on the bed, and he ran his hands down your arms, eyes combing over your body before he pulled you into a firm hug. 

“I missed you so much.” His voice was lowered, spoken into your neck as he burrowed his face close to your skin. You felt the vibration of his words climb under your skin, hitting the knot in your throat that you’d been trying to ignore. Your lips trembled into a smile, and you grabbed at the waistband of his boxers, unable to wrap your arms around him but still desperate for closeness. 

“I missed you too, Adrian.” 

He pulled away, and the carefree grin that’d been fixed on his face was muted by the way his eyebrows tilted, touched and surprised by your words. You could tell him he made the sun rise every day, and every day he’d still be as shocked that you thought of him so fondly. Leaning in, he pressed a kiss to your nose. 

“You want the whole story or the abridged version?” He let his forehead rest against yours, voice laced with giddiness. One day you’d hear the entire story, but today you just wanted to know that he was safe and whatever he’d been doing the past week wouldn’t put him in any significant danger. 

“How about you tell me the abridged version now and then you can fill me in on the rest later?” You let your hands fall from his hips, instead resting on his bare thighs.

He grabbed them, “Okay! I was at work one day last week when I saw Peacemaker there with a bunch of people, it turns out they let him out of prison to work for the government killing people. Remember that big starfish on TV months ago?” 

You nodded.

“Right! Peacemaker was there! So this time, there were these leaf bug things taking over people and I got roped in because one of them cut off half of my pinky toe and then they got me out of prison after Peacemaker’s dad was being a racist asshole, but what else is new?” He pursed his lips and shook his head, an eyeroll following the brief pause he took.

“Anyway, these things were gonna take over the world, but, they could only survive on this honey stuff from a huuuuge cow they brought from their planet. First we killed a gorilla that was protecting the warehouse where they sent out the honey stuff, then we killed Peacemaker’s dad because he came after us, then the cow. Now they’re going to starve and the world is saved. You’re welcome.” He pinched the skin of your hip and laughed when you smacked his hand away. 

“Yes, thank you, brave and handsome Vigilante for saving us.” You tossed your hand to your forehead, feigning a faint onto the bed. 

“It was a team effort!” Adrian hopped on top of you, knees on either side of your hip as he towered over you, hands on his hips, “Couldn’t have done it without my gorgeous partner waiting at home!” 

You sat up on your elbows, a half smile on your lips, “Oh, come on.” 

“And Peacemaker, obviously. It really was a whole team of people.” 

You looked down between Adrian’s legs, gaze scattering over his skin, trying to find some sign of injury. A cut, a scar, even a damn bug bite. 

Nothing. 

It should relieve you, should put your mind at ease and still your pounding heart, but it just reminds you how much Adrian could hurt without you ever knowing. How close he could get to the edge of death without taking it seriously for even a moment because, well, he heals. He always heals. 

Except for the day he doesn’t. 

He’d casually threaded in serious injury when he was retelling his world-saving adventure, and not for a second did he pause to say it was scary or that he wasn’t sure if he’d come out on top. 

“Adrian,” You looked back up at him, still towering, arms fallen to his sides as he stared down at you with a smile. 

“Yeah?”

“Are you ever worried that you won’t—” You paused, swallowing, “—that you won’t make it home one day?” 

He lowered himself, straddling your legs now, twiddling his fingers between the thin topsheet of your bed, “No.” 

“No? Not once while you’re in the field are you afraid you won’t make it home to me? That I’ll have to—have to deal with the ramifications of your death? You don’t think about that?” 

“No, I don’t. I think about how awesome it’ll be to tell you about the badass stuff I did.” 

“Even if that badass stuff kills you?” 

“It doesn’t!” 

“But it could! That’s my point—get off me,” You scooted further up on the bed, distancing yourself from him when he slid off you, “You can heal, yes, but sometimes death is a one and done thing, Adrian. What if you get shot in the head? Or bleed out before you can heal? What if you blow yourself up again and you’re not so lucky next time?” 

He was silent. 

“I’d never ask you to stop being Vigilante, but can you see that when you come home and tell me you did these…these absurd, dangerous things that you’re doing them without me in mind?” 

Adrian pushed his glasses, the dimples in his chin appearing as his frown deepened. 

You reached over to put a hand on his knee, “I love you, Adrian. I don’t ever want to have to see you in the hospital again.” 

“That’s why I jumped out the window and came home.” 

“That’s not what I—” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, “I don’t want to see you grievously hurt ever again.” 

He nodded, pressing his lips together, “Sorry. I didn’t know you thought about that.” 

“I think about it every second we’re not together. Even before I knew about all the Vigilante stuff. I want a whole life with you, Adrian, I don’t want that cut short.” 

“I would die before I let that happen.” 

You laughed, shaking your head as you pulled him closer by the wrists, “Come here.” 

He scooted over on his knees, “I wish you could’ve seen me in action, I really was kicking ass.” 

“I know you were. I don’t doubt that for a second. Just, be a little reserved with the explosions and potential torture, okay?” 

“As long as the little karate guy doesn’t show up again, absolutely.” 

“The what?” 

“Doesn’t fit in the abridged version,” He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you in, “I’ll tell you later.” 

His lips met yours and you both melted into the touch, the warmth of his mouth and the firmness of his grip around you steadied your trembling breaths, slowing your heartbeat before his wandering hands sped it back up. With one hand tight on the back of your neck and the other gripping your ass, Adrian pulled your bodies flush together. 

You opened your legs so he could sit between them, hips locking together on the bed as your lips did the same, and after a moment, Adrian pushed you over onto your back, kisses barely broken as you switched positions. 

His hand slid down your body, underneath the waistband of your sweatpants, a shuddering breath escaping his lips when he slid his fingers over your clit, your body instinctively arching up into him. 

“Ohhh, wow.” He whispered, voice trembling. 

“Did you forget what I feel like—mm—after only a w—week?” 

Adrian circled his thumb over your clit, middle and ring finger pressing at your entrance. 

“I forget how nice you feel whenever I’m not touching you.” He smiled against your mouth and started dragging his lips over your skin, teeth nipping at your jawline and down your neck, “Why do you think I wanna have sex all the time?” 

He pulled back, his eyes darting around your face before meeting your gaze, “Fantasizing can only do so much.” 

In the same breath as that statement, he pushed his fingers inside you, filling the void you’d felt the past week, at least halfway. 

You blindly reached for fabric on the bed to hold onto, fists balling over the top sheet as you moaned from his touch, his fingers snaking inside you, a mounting pressure that you needed him to fill right now. You weren’t interested in teasing this out, or making it last; after a week without seeing him and especially after hearing about what he’d been doing in that time, you wanted him inside you. 

“Adrian, I need you inside me, please.” 

“Oh, fuck yes.”

He slid his fingers out from under your waistband, yanking down your sweats and underwear altogether before he kicked off his own boxers. He’d been ready, of course he had. 

You pulled him down for a kiss, feeling the head of his cock brush lightly over your cunt before he positioned it in front of your entrance. Without guidance, he pushed inside you, interrupting the kiss with a deep, indulgent, “F—fffuck.”

Biting down on your bottom lip, you dug your head back into the bed, Adrian’s hips driving you down further as he fucked into you, his face buried in the crook of your neck. It wasn’t like you two were fucking every single day when Adrian wasn’t off saving the world. 

There had been times when it was a week or two just, because of life, but right now it was desperate and swift. Fingernails digging into his back, sweat slicking over your stomachs, Adrian’s hot breath burning your skin, the pressure in your cunt welling, an pit of iron in your pelvis closing in on the stuttering thrusts of his cock between your legs. You felt your walls fluttering around him as the hot iron scalded your insides, branding you both with the mark of one another. 

When Adrian came you held him against you, hands firm over his ass while he fucked into you, losing more of the little composure he had with every thrust. He moved his mouth to yours, trying to kiss you and instead freezing just above your lips, his body stilling as he hit his orgasm. The choked moans that left his throat lengthened as he melted into you, unintelligible noises turning into shit and oh my god and fuck, sweet girl you feel so good.

Finally able to kiss you again, Adrian continued fucking into you, regaining the rhythm he’d previously held, refusing you even a second of respite. 

You moved your hands to his hair, threading your fingers through the feathery dark tufts, shining with sweat. It wasn’t long before you yourself were coming undone with the welling pressure of his cock inside you, that iron pit in your body anchoring you to the bed. You arched your back to try and escape the tension, but Adrian held you down with his weight on top of you, his mouth over yours muffling the broken curses and whiny moans he’d drawn from you. The orgasm washed over your body, muscles spasming and tightening, Adrian’s thrusts slowing down as you yourself cooled. 

His cum seeped out from between your legs as he flopped over next to you, one hand sliding underneath your neck to bring you in, the other lazily sitting over his stomach. 

The two of you lay there for a moment, catching your breaths. Adrian was the first to break the silence. 

“Do you wanna get married?” 

You scoffed, shaking your head with a smile, “That good, huh?” 

He sat up to slide off the bed, your gaze following him as he tugged on his boxers and walked over to the closet, “Well, yeah, always, but I’m being serious!” 

It wasn’t until he pulled out a bright blue velvet box that you sat up, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, tip toes on the carpet. 

“Adrian, what—” You stopped. 

“I actually—oh, wait,” He got down on one knee, “I had this whole other plan, but then when I woke up in the hospital I changed my mind. This is the important thing I needed to tell you. I think about you every minute of my life. I know I should be more careful, but when I’m out there killing bad people, or washing dishes, I’m just thinking about what I have to do to get home faster. 

And yeah, sometimes that means throwing a grenade to hurry up the job, which I won’t do in the future! But I love you and I hope that even though I make mistakes like that, you’ll still want to marry me. Because I want to marry you, and you said earlier you want to spend your life with me, so, will you marry me?” 

He popped open the little box and there sat a ring with a deep blue gem in the center. You’d half expected him to open the box up to a toy ring, but there lay the most gorgeous ring you’d ever seen, nestled right before your eyes. Not that it truly mattered, there was no doubt in your mind that you’d say,

“Yes, Adrian, absolutely. Absolutely!” You slid off the bed and shuffled closer to him on your knees, grabbing the sides of his face to bring him in for a kiss. 

It was hard to kiss him with the grin that he couldn’t get rid of, but you were struggling just the same, both of you laughing in between brief kisses. 

When you finally pulled away, Adrian took the ring from its box to slide onto your finger. It glittered against your skin, and you shook your head in disbelief. Adrian did think of you. Maybe he got carried away in the field, got carried away trying to make the world a better place, but you trusted his instincts, trusted that he’d always find a way to make it home to you. You’d never stop worrying, but you could live with the knowledge that he was out there with you in his mind. 

You grabbed him and kissed him once more, keeping him in a hug after you’d broken from the kiss. 

Adrian whispered into your neck, “I’m always going to come home, just so you know.”

And he always did. 

#adrian chase x reader #adrian chase x you #vigilante x reader #vigilante x you #adrian chase imagine #adrian chase fic #vigilante imagine #vigilante fic #my writing #mine #adrian chase

[bluethemagpie]

Some vigilante tommy reference drawings i made for a fic i made thats currently on hiatus (not anymore)

Power info doesn't apply anymore :']

#tommyinnit #tommyinnit fanart #tommy fanart #taditional art #vigilante tommy #vigilante fic #vigilante tommyinnit #tommyinnit fanfic

[tj-is-down]

Meet Me in the Motel Pool - Adrian Chase

Adrian Chase Appreciation Week Day 6--Free Choice!

Hey guys, this is my first Adrian fic (second fic overall) and my first fic for appreciation week! I hope y'all like it. Also, to the Peacemakernet folks--I hope this fits in the "free choice" category! I kind of figured that meant anything goes, so this is just a bunch of different tropes thrown together.

Summary: The 11th Street Kids stop at a motel after a mission, and you and Adrian spend some time together. (fluff)

Word Count: ~2.2k

Warnings: Just a fair amount of cursing, that's it! Also, the group goes swimming but there's literally no physical description of the reader so this can be whoever you want! I want to make it so that anyone can see themselves as reader :)

The mission was long. We’re tired as we drive away from the city, having taken care of a situation at the town hall. I don’t want to get into it, but we needed to get out of there as fast as possible before the mayor’s secretary found him the next morning, dead in his office.

Adrian and Chris seem to be the only two who aren’t completely wiped out, the two of them sitting up front as Adrian drives and Chris plays air guitar to whatever crazy music he had picked out for the ride.

I lean my head back against the wall of the van, closing my eyes and attempting to get some sort of sleep before we get wherever it is we’re going. It’s an empty gesture, though; as if Adrian’s reckless driving and Chris’s loud-ass music would allow for anyone to even think about sleeping, let alone actually achieve it.

“There’s a motel about a mile away,” Leota says, and I open my eyes to see her holding up her phone, directions pulled up. “We could stop there for tonight?”

“Yes, please,” Harcourt responds. “I need a real fucking bed.”

“Me too,” Economos adds.

“You guys are pussies,” Chris says. “‘I need a real bed, I’ve never been to prison, I can’t deal with even the most minor inconveniences because I’m a little bitch,’” he continues in a high-pitched voice, a poor imitation of Harcourt. Adrian laughs characteristically loud, finding Chris’s joke to be more funny than it’s meant to be.

Harcourt flips the two of them off. “Fuck you, jailbird.”

“Hey!” Chris shouts, pointing at her. “Say some negative shit about birds, I dare you!”

The two of them erupt into bickering for a few minutes before the van slows to a stop and Adrian tells them both to knock it the fuck off.

“We’re here,” he says. “Harcourt, get us rooms?” He asks.

The five of us grab our bags out of the van before meeting Harcourt at the front of the motel and grabbing our individual room keys.

“Hey, there’s a pool back there!” Chris says, pointing to the other side of the parking lot. “Anyone down for a swim?”

“Absolutely not,” Harcourt says, turning around and walking towards her room.

“Dye-Beard, you in?” Chris asks Economos. Economos just flips him off in response.

“Pussies!” He shouts before turning to Adebayo. “Leota?” He asks hopefully.

She shrugs. “Sure. I could go for a swim.”

He fist-bumps the air. “Hell yeah! Vig, Y/N? You guys coming?”

“I’ll go,” Adrian says. He turns to me. Y/N?”

Truth be told, I’m tired as shit. But Adrian’s got that effect on me, where all he’s got to do is ask, and I’m there. So I nod, and the four of us make our way up to our rooms before changing into swimming clothes and meeting at the pool.

“The sign says it’s closed,” I say as we approach the gate to the pool.

Chris and Adrian are both wearing shorts and no shirt, while Leota wears a t-shirt and shorts, like me. None of us packed a bathing suit on this mission (why would we need to?), so we’re making do with what we have. It was hard not to stare at Adrian, who normally wouldn’t be caught dead wearing so few clothes. When he wasn’t wearing his suit he was typically seen in a sweater and jeans, even in the summer. He looked over at me and I quickly averted my eyes, finding myself interested in a rock on the ground.

“Who gives a shit if it’s closed?” Chris asks. “That’s rhetorical. No one gives a shit, Y/N. Come on!”

He’s got a point. We just killed someone two hours ago; what’s a sign to stop us from doing whatever we want?

It was a good decision. The tiredness I was feeling is quickly replaced by relaxation, and I find myself unwinding for once, rather than the other way around. It’s nice to have this time with the team--minus Emilia and John--since we’re so rarely able to just sit and chill, our time mostly taken up by world-ending threats and Chris’s bigoted family members. We act like children, having races from one side of the pool to the other and back, playing chicken, and seeing who can hold their breath the longest. Chris almost drowns during the last bit, convinced he can breathe underwater due to a technique that he swears King Shark taught him.

After a little while, both Chris and Leota decide to go back to their hotel rooms, but I don’t miss the look they share between them, like they’re keeping a secret. They both wink at me, and it becomes obvious what that secret is, and even more obvious that they’ve orchestrated this on purpose, to try to get me to spend some more time alone with Adrian.

“Everything okay?” Adrian asks, taking me out of my thoughts.

“Yeah!” I tell him. “I’m good.”

“Good,” he says. “‘Cause I’m still not tired.”

“Me neither.”

He takes a deep breath. “You wanna play mermaids?” He asks, only-half joking.

“Hell yeah,” I answer. “But only if I can get the blue tail.”

“No fair! I want the blue tail! Blue is my signature color, and you know that.”

“I thought teal was your signature color?”

“Teal is a shade of blue, Y/N!”

“Oh, is it?” I ask, cocking my head to the side. “Too bad.”

With no warning, he darts across the pool, picking me up and cradling me in his arms. 

“Can I have teal now?” He asks innocently, as if I’m not being physically blackmailed.

I shake my head, refusing to back down. 

He drops me in the water. I flail for a moment, waiting until my brain gathers its sense of direction before pushing off the pool floor and gasping for air as I hit the water’s surface. I cough and sputter a few times, catching my breath, and Adrian raises an eyebrow.

“You good?” He asks. He doesn’t look the least bit sorry. “Need CPR?”

“Mouth-to-mouth? From you?” I wink. “Always.”

He looks down at the pool, embarrassed. I’m worried I’ve crossed a line, so I walk over to him. “Hey, Ade, I was joking--”

Suddenly, he’s splashing me, laughing while pushing gallons of water in my direction. “Yeah, right! You wanna kiss me so bad.”

I start splashing him back, trying to get more water in his direction than he’s trying to get in mine. “I do not!”

“Yes, you do!” He shouts back over the sound of the water.

“Do not!”

“Do, too!”

“Do not!”

I’m so invested in winning this battle that I don’t even notice when he’s stopped splashing back, instead walking slowly towards me. He stops barely a step away, and I stop splashing when I see the serious look on his face.

“You do want to kiss me,” he says, softly. He says it matter-of-factly, like he knows it’s true without having to ask me.

He’s right, of course. “I want to kiss you.”

He grabs my face, closing the short gap between us. I fall into him, letting him lead and take control. It’s the perfect first kiss, and I can’t help but think about how I want there to be more.

Suddenly, a breeze hits my back, and I shiver. He notices, because he pulls back slightly, his forehead resting on mine.

“You okay?” Adrian asks.

I nod. “Just cold.” We’ve been in the pool for likely more than an hour, although I have no way to tell for sure. Although I’m enjoying this--more than enjoying it, actually--I could really go for a warm shower and some sleep.

“You wanna go upstairs? C’mon.” He starts walking towards the shallow end, holding my hand and pulling me with him. When we get out he hands me my towel before taking his and drying his hair. He rustles the towel on his head for a few seconds and then takes it off to shake his head back and forth like a dog. I laugh and he stops what he’s doing, standing up straight and putting his hands on his hips. “Something funny?”

I laugh even more at his “serious” stance, and before long he’s picked me up over his shoulder, walking back towards the pool.

“Feel free to share your jokes with the class,” he says, “or else you’re going back for another swim.”

I cave almost immediately. “Okay, okay, fine!” I shout. He puts me down. “You’re just funny when you’re being cute, that’s all.”

His cheeks grow red, and he looks down at the ground. For once in his life--probably the first and last time--he’s speechless, and it’s another minute before he looks back up at me and smiles. “You’re cute too, you know.”

I smile back. “Thanks.”

We pick up our towels and clothes and start walking towards the motel.

“So, I know it’s kind of late, but I’m thinking we could watch a movie tonight? The Hallmark Channel’s always got something on, if you’re looking for some cheesy shit, or--”

“You want me to go back to your room?” I ask, a hint of worry in my voice. I wasn’t expecting him to ask, and I’m not sure if I’m ready for what that entails. I like Adrian--a lot--but I really don’t want to fuck anything up by moving too fast.

“Yeah, is that okay?” he replies, turning to look at me. Seeing the nervous look on my face, he quickly adds, “No, not like that! I don’t mean--I’m not trying to sleep with you. I mean, I want to sleep with you, but that’s all. Sleep. And maybe cuddle. And maybe make out some more. But that’s it, I swear!”

I chuckle. “Okay, I believe you. I’ll come up to your room, but no funny business.” I point my finger at him and he puts his hands up in mock surrender.

“No funny business, I promise.” He smiles. “Unless you still think I’m funny when I’m being cute, and in that case, there will be lots of funny business. In case you didn’t know, I’m adorable.”

I lightly punch his arm. “Sure you are, Ade.”

“I totally am!”

When we get back to his room he lets me take the first shower, which I happily accept. When I get out I change back into my regular clothes and when I open the door, Adrian is half-asleep on the bed.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” I say, poking his shoulder. “I’m not sleeping with you if you’ve still got your bathing suit on.”

He groans but gets up. “You’re so mean to me,” he says, pouting.

I fake-pout back. “Too bad. Go take a shower and maybe when you’re done we can do some of the making out that you were talking about earlier.”

This gets his attention. He perks up and just about runs to the bathroom, placing a quick kiss on my cheek beforehand. I lay in bed and throw on the covers; despite the warmth of the shower and comforter, I’m still cold. I make the impromptu decision to run to my room to grab my jacket while Adrian’s in the shower, but stop when I see one of his sweaters laying across the chair by the door. I get up from the bed and grab it, pulling it over my head and putting my arms through the sleeves. I’m immediately enveloped in warmth, along with the scent of Adrian. I hug my shoulders, taking it all in.

I lay back on the bed, flipping through the channels for a few minutes before I hear the water turn off and Adrian comes out of the bathroom. He looks at me in brief confusion before taking off his glasses--fogged up because of the steam in the bathroom--and cleaning them with the hem of his shirt.

“Is that my sweater?” He asks, placing his glasses back over his eyes.

“Yeah, is that okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, grinning. He plops onto the bed next to me, eyeing me up and down. “You look hot. Like, damn.”

I laugh and push him so that he almost falls off. “No funny business, remember?”

He over-exaggerates rolling his eyes. “Yes, I know. Now, c’mon. I was promised cuddles.” He takes his glasses off and places them on the nightstand, then turns back to me, opening his arms. I gladly shift over into them. He pulls the covers up over the two of us and takes the remote. “What do you want to watch?”

“I don’t care. You pick.”

“Okay. Fargo it is, then.”

I turn so that I’m facing him. “You’re so lame,” I tease.

He feigns offense. “What? Fargo is one of the greatest shows of all time. You just don’t appreciate good television.”

“Whatever, nerd.” I kiss his lips before closing my eyes and burrowing myself into his chest.

“Uh-uh. You’re not getting off that easy.” He uses his finger to lift my chin so I’m back at eye-level with him. “Say you’re sorry for calling me a nerd.”

“No way.”

He kisses me energetically, pushing his lips into mine and interlocking our fingers. “What about now?”

“Nope.”

Another kiss. “Are you sorry yet?”

I shake my head.

Another kiss.

“If you’re gonna kiss me every time I say no to you, then you’re never gonna hear the word ‘yes’ come out of my mouth.”

He thinks about it for a second before kissing me again.

“I can live with that.”

#peacemaker #dc #peacemakernet #adrian chase #adrian chase x reader #vigilante x reader #adrian chase fic #vigilante fic #acweek22

[iak1]

fic find? healer tommyinnit au :]

so theres this fic right, tommyinnits a healer and he heals like the sbi and stuff and he also heals like other vigilantes and js like everyone and he heals purpled (and im pretty sure he throws out a couch cause he bled too much) whos in the mafia (he’s also called a husk because he has no powers, and this world has those favors like do smth or help someone and you get a favour) and he gives him a coin and at the place where tommy works someone (hannah i think? could be wrong..) goes to pick him up and has him show the coin for like mafia reasons or smth and so she takes him to punz because yeah

uh im pretty sure at one point techno had tommy start telling people it was against his religion to accept favors but yeah ive been looking everywhere for this fic

(fic was read on ao3 btw)

#fic finder #dream smp #mcyt #vigilante fic

[modern-vellichor]

Hii!! I stumbled across your account after reading the most recent Adrian Chase/Vigilante angst fic and let me just say, I read your whole masterlist and practically sobbed all the water out of my body 😭. I was wondering if you could possibly make a follow up to “couldn’t” or even just anything angsty vigilante. Maybe something that involves like the reader feeling unloved and they have a hard time adjusting to his affection in a sense, like an inner conflict. Love ur work it’s amazing <3

-a/n; it's been do long since I wrote that I had to reread it and I broke my own heart a little ngl (broken heart is inversely proportional to inflated ego)

-warnings; angst 😎, uncommunicative reader, lots of cursing bc im a big girl

You stopped coming into work. Adrian waited at your desk every morning and you never showed. The others said you were sick. He didn't believe them. He gave you the benefit of the doubt for the first few days. But the feeling of your lips was haunting him, he could still taste you. He couldn't sleep.

He rolled over and the alarm clock next to his bed flashed at him.

03:00 AM

He rolled out of bed. He didn't even bother getting dressed. He just slipped out of his home. He walked the streets, kicking pebbles. He knew where you lived, not that you had told him. He may have been harbouring a secret obsession for a while before your kiss. He snuck up to your window, standing, shivering on the fire escape. You didn't notice him as you moved your couch from one side of your cramped living room to the other. He didn't knock. Adrian just watched you. You looked sick. Your eyes were dull, your skin looked grey. You had lost the sense of life that once permeated the office, your body, your home.

You finally looked up from the floor. Your eyes met. You weren't shocked. Adrian seemed like the kind of guy to do this sort of thing. You sighed deeply. You tugged at the hem of your hoodie and opened the window for him to clamber through. He stumbled into your apartment. You ran a hand through your tangled hair. Adrian pushed his glasses further up his nose.

"What do you want, Chase?" You whispered.

"I- I don't know."

Adrian felt small, suddenly. He felt little and bare. He felt vulnerable and unprotected. And you looked big. You looked tired and worn thin. You looked angry. You were scary. You had a knife bared at his through, you had the threat of unbearable rejection, and what did he have? Carelessness? Callousness? No. He had nothing to fight against your icy tone, your harsh words. Your lack of care. He was small, he was frightened. He was in love.

"Why did you come here? You're not hurt. No one's in danger. You have no reason to be here?"

"I don't know," he uttered.

"For fuck's sake, Adrian!" You hissed.

Adrian winced. You softened your tone. You leaned back against the arm of your couch. He looked small. He was shaking. He was nervous. You were tired, wrecked. You reached out an open hand, beckoned him quietly towards you. You know Adrian can be odd sometimes, clueless. Maybe no one had taught him these things, taught him about feelings, and emotions - the gushy stuff. You didn't like gushy things, or gooey things, all the worst things were sticky. Like blood and guts, love and care.

Adrian took a few tender steps towards you and reached out his hand. You wrapped your fingers around his wrist and pulled him gently towards you. Things had fallen still in the apartment. He crowded against you. Suddenly, you couldn't breathe. Adrian dipped his head, his hands trailing up your neck. You pushed him away. Shaking and panting, you shoved him back towards the fire escape.

"You need to get out of here."

"What?" He nearly cried.

"This is so fucking unprofessional, Chase. You need to get the fuck out of my house. Like, right fucking now."

You gave him one last push. Adrian clambered out the window and escaped down the rusty, unstable stairs. He avoided your block for the next few days.

When you returned to work, you were quiet and drained. You looked tired. You sulked around the office. You worked late. Far later than anyone else. Adrian always noticed. He noticed you sitting at your desk, no light other than the light of your computer. He stood in the shadows, watching you type away on a tuesday night. His watched flashed midnight, wednesday.

He skulked out of the shadows and towards your desk. He had finally ditched the costume and that stupid helmet you always made fun of. You rarely saw him in anything else. You didn't see him as he snuck up behind you and placed a tender hand on your shoulder. You didn't make a sound. You just stopped tying as Adrian turned you around. He stood between your legs and held your face in his hands.

"Adrian-" you begam.

"Just- Don't say anything," he begged.

"please," you whispered.

"Shut the fuck up," he laughed breathlessly.

You smiled. It was s small, tired, somewhat pathetic smile, but it was a smile nonetheless. Adrian pulled you up and out of your chair. You stood on shaking legs. You trembled beneath his grasp. Worry, adoration, anticipation all in one.

He kissed you.

It was all consuming and it felt like it lasted forever. You were breathless by the time he pulled away. He leaned his forehead against yours. You laughed quietly.

"You're so fucking difficult, you know that?" Adrian whispered.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"Why?"

"'Cause it's fucking hot."

#adrian chase fic #adrian chase imagine #adrian chase x reader #adrian chase fanfiction #adrian chase smut #adrian chase oneshot #adrian chase peacemaker #adrian chase x y/n #vigilante x you #vigilante x y/n #vigilante smut #vigilante x reader #vigilante fic #vigilante fanfiction

[jeysbvck]

seven (not really) sentence sunday!

tagged by @sznofthesticks thank u bff 🧡

from an adrian chase wip ive had in my docs for years (okay so it was for a different fandom & i changed it to adrian)

***

“Oh yeah, she's definitely not fine.” Adrian commented. “When were you gonna mention you'd been stabbed?”

"When was the right time? When we were fighting off those men, or maybe when I was hanging off the edge?!" You fired back. Your breathing was jagged now, the deep, searing pain was taking over, like a parasite burrowing inside you.

"Maybe instead of arguing with Adrian, you could have mentioned it." Leota piped up through the earpiece. You opened your mouth to respond, but instead, you let out a piercing scream, doubling over in agony, clutching at your stomach.

"Fuck, okay guys, you gotta come get us right now. I swear if she dies on me, she always said she'd make it look like I did it and -"

Adrians voice was distorted. It sounded like an old vinyl being played in slow motion. You had absolutely no idea how you were still on your feet, truthfully. You took deep breaths and looked up at Adrian, but you couldn't make out his features. He was just one large blur.

"Adrian, I'm fine." You repeated. You blinked a couple of times, an attempt to restore your vision.

"You don't look fine." Adrian said. "Actually, you look like you're about to faint."

"Mhmm, I think you're gonna want to catch me."

no pressure tags; @afterdarkprincess @harmshake @maplefire18 @crxssjae 💙

#shan shouts into the void #tag game #seven sentence sunday #wip game #adrian chase fic #vigilante fic #adrian chase x you #vigilante x you #adrian chase x reader #vigilante x reader

[plzu]

Just Water, Thanks - (Adrian Chase x Reader)

part four☕️

a/n: tbh if my 13 y/o self saw me updating a multi-chapter fic [redacted] months after the last update, she'd be impressed. this is shorter than i wanted it to be bc i had to cut it off. consider this an in-between chapter as we navigate (negative) emotions and such. anyway, hope y'all don't mind as i steer this story into angst territory! Summary: Adrian takes care of you while you are drunk and miserable in his home. Warnings: 18+, no Y/N, ANGST (reader is going thru it), mentions of assault, mentions of gore and blood and nightmares, a reference to one of the Saw movies (idk which, sorry), not beta read, if i missed anything lmk pls!! Word Count: 3.3k+

Revelations are dizzying. Revelations taste like vomit in the back of your mouth, and the backs of your teeth. Revelations leave you sore all over, more sore than you think you’ve ever been. Revelations are exhausting. They leave you parched as shit.

Or maybe that’s just the alcohol.

The night wasn’t supposed to go like this. 

It was supposed to be some girls from high school. Old friends. Best friends. The people that were your anchor in Evergreen, who made everything bearable. Late night talks and laughing over the dumbest things and whisperings about crushes and aspirations.

People you slowly stopped talking to once you moved across the country, to some city that could swallow you whole.

People that decided to return the favor. Two last minute ditches, and one that completely ghosted you. They’re just busy, you thought, a dirty martini and a half in. They have real jobs, and spouses, and… kids? Maybe?

Pouty and miserable at the sleek bar, drowning your insecurities in alcohol, picking at the olives at the bottom of empty glasses. They’re too- too good for me, anyway. 

Having found some semblance of happiness in an unlikely friendship with Adrian Chase, you thought you’d finally venture out, expand your social circle again. Feel like you have everything together, finally.

Learn to experience snatches of happiness elsewhere, outside of time spent with Adrian. Because, face it: there is something that feels slippery about him. Evanescent. Like one day he’s going to disappear, or get bored of you.

Or reveal whatever secrets he’s been clearly harboring, something neither of you could return from, and the wedge that it would drive between you would leave you right back to where you started: a ghost that didn’t even have the good grace to properly die. 

You walk -- stagger, really -- down the empty street, most of your weight supported by the masked Vigilante. Adrian is supposedly under that mask. You cannot wrap your head around this fact, even after watching Vigilante answer Adrian’s phone, and say some bullshit excuse only Adrian could come up with. 

“Alright, here we are!” Vigilante (Adrian?) declares. “The Vigilante-mobile.”

You both come to a stop. You squint bleary-eyed at the 4-door sedan, glance at the masked face beside you, then back to the car. 

“It’s just your regular car.”

Vigilante -- no, Adrian, definitely Adrian -- snorts. “Well, yeah. I can’t exactly afford a second car with a busboy salary.”

This almost makes you laugh, because Adrian is good at that, really. Effortless. But nausea stirs in your gut, so you decide against it. Grumble a wordless response instead. 

Adrian attempts to ease you into the passenger seat, asking if you’re hurt anywhere else. If they hurt you in any worse ways other than the obvious. You can only shake your head noncommittally, fighting back the urge to vomit again. There will definitely be bruises and sore spots on your aching body from the rough way they had handled you, but you know what he’s really asking.

Head slumped back against the headrest, you close your eyes for a few minutes. You have to buckle up, Adrian urges, but you cannot find the strength or the energy to pull the seat belt around your body. A pathetic little huff is all you can really muster before Adrian, patient and gentle, pulls the seat belt around your torso and fastens you in place. 

Unfortunately, the gentle action is buffeted by the coppery scent that washes over you, the roughness of his gloves and suit briefly scraping your skin; this doesn’t smell like Adrian. Not like the familiar Irish Spring soap, or coffee and caramel after visiting you at the cafe. This makes you whine. Whimper, really, dissatisfied and uncomfortable and very momentarily scared. 

Misunderstanding, he tells you you’re going to be okay, in a voice that’s a touch too animated for the general mood of the night.

When the door is shut, you try not to suffocate in the brief silence that follows. Keep your eyes closed as the muffled thud of the trunk jolts the car a bit, willing the queasiness away. Desperately wishing for water, or sleep, or death. 

You do not open your eyes when Adrian finally gets in the car, and starts driving, until he mentions something about taking you home. At that point, your eyes fly open.

“No,” you beg. “No, Adrian, please. I can’t go home like this. I don’t want them to see me like this.”

There’s a quiver in your voice. Nervousness builds in your chest, a rapid flutter in your ribs that makes you feel like crying. Adrian stares, eyes flicking from your face to the quickening rise and fall of your chest, and you realize it’s just Adrian sitting next to you, now. Wearing normal clothes. No blood-splattered suit or eerie red visor. Just the familiar--if slightly disheveled--curly hair and glasses, lips parted in confusion or concern. Seeing his bare face is almost a comfort, especially when he nods, and faces the road again. 

The trip to Adrian’s apartment becomes a hazy memory. He walks you through the corridors of some small apartment complex until you’re trudging through the threshold of his home, where he guides you through the dark into his bedroom. You sag into the edge of his bed once he turns on the light. 

“Gotta get you cleaned up, but… do you need water?” Adrian asks. You only stare back up at him before he goes, “right, yeah, no, you definitely need water. Wait right here.”

When he comes back, Adrian is juggling a couple of bottles of water and a first-aid kit to dress your wound. He sets everything down, handing you a chilled water bottle which you gratefully accept. You cannot unscrew the cap of the bottle fast enough to immediately quench the discomfort of your sandpaper tongue. 

“Slow sips,” Adrian says, after some reckless guzzling causes you to choke and dribble water all over your chin. 

Setting the bottle aside, you notice stands with his back to you on the other side of the room. You realize this is him giving you privacy so you can begin the struggle of taking off the stockings. They get halfway down your thighs, dress rucked up around your hips, before the effort of it unlocks a well of tears; a flash of a memory of being six years old and left to fend for yourself for the first time in a fight to tug on tights for school.

It’s not that you’re so inebriated that you can’t take off your stockings, though it certainly doesn’t help. It’s that once you get the fabric rolled down to your skinned knee, a new wave of nausea overcomes you. You can feel the mesh of the tear sticking to the gooey wet parts of the wound, and your mind reels with the dizzying thought that if you tug anymore, you’re going to make it worse. Take more skin off. Bleed all over Adrian’s bedsheets. Throw up again, probably.

It’s just for a brief second, you don’t let the feeling last too long, but-- the quick snatch and tug of the nylon on the tattered skin of your knee reminds you of one of the Saw movies, and how one of the traps involved gluing some poor fuck’s bare back to the driver’s seat of a car. And the way he had to peel off the seat, screaming and sweating, struggling to reach the -- the brakes? The gas? -- just to try to save some girl’s life. The stretch of skin, the vivid gleam of blood, your memory no doubt enhancing the gore of the scene in a new wave of despair.

When Adrian turns around, he finds you with your face hidden in the cusp of your palms, stockings only rolled down to the tops of your knees. Your dress is still bunched up around your hips, and maybe you should feel exposed, sitting on Adrian’s bed with your thighs bared. Embarrassed, even. But between the ick in your stomach and the sour taste at the back of your throat and the headache that begins to pulse behind your eyes like remnants of the bassline from the club, you don’t have any room to care. 

(And, admittedly. You don’t think you’d mind Adrian seeing this much of you. Under different circumstances, at least.)

You sense him hovering closer, probably paused at the sight of you all pathetic on his bed. Or the bare flesh of your thighs, more likely. Something unintelligible is mumbled into your hands in an attempt to draw his attention. Let him know you’re aware of his presence, and that you’re lucid, at the very least.

“Sorry- what?”

You sniffle, before mustering up the strength to raise your head up. But only enough to stare at his feet. “I can’t- My tights. I can’t… take them off.”

You watch as his scuffed up shoes approach you. Absently, you think about how Adrian hasn’t worn these before, even though it’s gotten cold. And, oh, they’re probably just part of his Vigilante costume. 

Ah. Vigilante. Adrian. 

“Whoa… what do you mean?” Adrian crouches down, his bespectacled gaze in your sight, and you realize the quick, short breaths you hear are your own. “Are you going to cry again? I have tissues here on my nightstand- for, like, normal reasons. Nothing gross. Ignore the lotion.”

There’s a very small part of you that knows this would have -- should have -- made you laugh. It’s the part of you that feels detached from this whole experience, as if watching from outside of your body. Like a muted, sober-ish ghost that can’t do anything but observe. Helpless. Unable to keep you safe.

You can’t even take off your fucking tights by yourself.

“The- the cut on my knee,” you attempt to warble through your explanation. “It’s, um- it feels weird. I don’t think I can take off my tights…”

“Well, we have to dress the wound otherwise it might get infected.” Adrian pauses, raises his hands so they hover over your lap. “Is it okay if I..?”

When you nod -- shakily, fearfully, desperately -- his hands continue their journey to your right thigh. His middle and forefingers, surprisingly gentle, slip into the scrunched up fabric at the base of your knee, and a shiver runs down your spine at the feel of his hands there. There is a feeling that slowly blooms in your chest at the sight of Adrian on his knees for you, taking care of you. But it’s being overshadowed by the anxiety gripping your throat and making your head spin in anticipation of the potential pain to come from your tights being ripped from your bloody knee.

No longer able to keep upright, you gracelessly plop back into the soft sheets, ceiling swaying in your vision. You make no effort to get back up; not like you wanted to watch the horror of Adrian potentially ripping the skin off your knee.

His voice, with a touch of anger that’s still unusual to hear, cuts through the haze of worry. “I hate those motherfuckers for doing this to you.”

A humorless, breathy snort escapes at that, shame sapping the energy out of you. “That wasn’t their fault,” you mumble. “‘M not tryin’ to defend them or anything, but it was my stupid, drunk ass that tripped and got myself into this whole mess…”

Because the truth is, if you hadn’t drunkenly stumbled down the wrong street when trying to find your Uber, if you hadn’t worn heels that don’t feel natural on your feet anymore, if you hadn’t felt so anguished and lonely that you sought solace in a few too many cocktails-

If you had just been a better friend to the people that made your high school years bearable, you wouldn’t have been crowded and overpowered by strange men with horrifying intentions. 

“Were you… by yourself?” Adrian’s voice carries over you while he’s still somewhere at your knees. “Where were those friends of yours? The ones you were meeting up with?”

The heels of your palms dig furiously into your closed eyes until you’re seeing black and red and you’re sure your eyeballs are just about to successfully squish into your skull. “They never showed up,” you admit, hoarsely, dejectedly.

Moments pass. There’s this light, almost lulling feeling, the tug and pull of your right leg. If you weren’t drowning in the barrage of negative thoughts and guilt and the kind of worthlessness that only creeps up on you in your own bedroom, you’d find Adrian’s ministrations comforting. 

“Don’t get mad, but it doesn’t sound like they were very good friends if they abandoned you to drink alone at club a in a sketchy neighborhood.”

But isn’t that what I deserve?

See- 

You left. Most people did after high school, but you made it a staunch point to never come back. 

You didn’t mean to abandon the friends you made in Evergreen. But life went on, and time passed quicker than you could make sense of, and fuck if you didn’t find any excuse to not come back home during breaks -- internships, supposedly important trips for school, job-hunting, moving in with your first love -- all so you could prolong seeing your family again.

What’s so bad about them, anyway?

They make me feel-

A sharp sting of pain rips you out of dark muddled thoughts, hissing through clenched teeth as you shoot into an upright position, lurching forward. 

“Sorry, sorry! But I did warn you.”

Oh, right. Adrian. You’re in Adrian’s bedroom, and he’s currently at your knees, hair still rumpled and eyes shining bright and concerned behind his glasses. And… he’s holding an alcohol pad. And your knee is…

“You got the tights off?” you ask in breathless disbelief.

“Yeah. I had to cut it up, though.” He grimaces. “Sorry. But it was already torn, so…”

Sure enough, the area around your knee is now fully exposed and free of any sticky mesh. The cut was beginning to scab over, but the alcohol pad made it newly shiny. It stings, but at least it doesn’t look like whatever nightmare scenario you’d been afraid of.

Adrian continues cleaning up and bandaging your wound as you look away, too light-headed to watch him work. It’s not until he’s gently pressing a bandage to your knee that you finally let out a breath you didn’t realize you were even holding. 

“There, all done.” Adrian stands, gathering everything up with careful, unrushed movements. “Let me get you something to sleep in.”

“Huh?” You blink up at him, confused. 

He’s rummaging through a dresser drawer, back turned to you when he responds. “Trust me, you’re not going to want to fall asleep in ripped clothes.” Turning around with some folded clothes in his hands, he continues, “I don’t imagine it’d be very comfortable. Plus, what if you wake up, not remembering what happened--you know, because of the drinking-- and you’re in my bed with a ripped dress? How does that make me look? It’d be pretty hard to convince you I didn’t do anything to you.”

He hands you the clothes--a big soft tee-shirt and sweatpants--and turns to leave. There is a cacophony of feelings clamoring around in your head and in your heart, and you find yourself helplessly overwhelmed once again but also, endlessly grateful for this man that saved your life. Not just tonight, but the night he stepped into your cafe painfully close to closing and made things feel silly and good again. 

“Adrian?” you softly call out as he turns to leave you to change.

“Yeah?”

“I think you’re my best friend.”

Something expands in his chest when Adrian hears those words come out of your mouth. Like a frog puffing up with a croak, or a balloon that’s filled to bursting but doesn’t want to pop. He thinks he was a kid the last time he actually heard someone tell him, to his face, that he’s their best friend.

Sure, the admittance wavered out in an alcohol-infused breath, and he’s not sure how much you had to drink tonight but it may be enough to forget this moment.

But he wasn’t drinking. He’ll hold onto this moment forever.

A smile grows crooked on his face as he hovers by the door, meeting your gaze. “Yeah?”

You nod, holding the clothes handed to you lamely in your lap. There’s something glum about the sag of your shoulders, but he can’t think about that too much in his rush to assure you that you’re his best friend, too. Top 3, definitely.

This makes you snort, which he counts as another win for the night since it’s the first sound of laughter he’s heard since finding you in the alley.

He finally leaves you to change, and to get some much needed rest, and grins from ear to ear at the knowledge that the person he’s liked since high school is in his bed tonight.

Despite the comfort of Adrian’s tee-shirt, the smell of him in his clothes and sheets, the softness of it all wrapped around you, you do not sleep well.

You dream of dark alleyways and even darker figures crowding you, overpowering you. Limbs boneless, unable to fight back. When you scream, it’s not loud enough. There’s a thumping bass reverberating off brick walls that drowns out your cries for help. 

It’s frustrating. This powerlessness. The feeling of utter uselessness, frightening to your core. 

Then, the dream shifts. You are no longer being crowded and pinned by the shadowed figures, yet fear still grips you, clings to your skin, hot and wet- when you look down, the sticky wet feeling isn’t fear but blood, splattered all over your clothes and dripping from your arms. You want to feel triumph, search for the feeling in the recesses of your brain, you want so badly for that to replace the anxiousness gripping your lungs now that you’re free.

But when you look back up, you see viscera-laden bricks. Bodies with holes where they shouldn’t be, missing pieces. This is still a nightmare.  A familiar voice, tainted by something dark and unrecognizably sinister, laughs at the mouth of the alley. It’s another shadowy figure, red visor glowing in your direction. “You’re okay now,” he says, tone unsettling, too-chipper. “They’re all dead!”

taglist: @whatevermonkey @nobodys-baby-now @hiddlebatchedloki @pokoyolfhw

#adrian chase x reader #vigilante x reader #writing #fanfic #mine #peacemaker fic #vigilante fic

[lysenfeu]

Pair of Aces - Chapter 3. Day Three

Pair of Aces

Chapter: 3. Day Three

Rating: M

Word Count: 5.6k~

Summary: Our pair finally head out into the field to track Butterflies and Vigilante gets the opportunity to demonstrate his skills.

Chapter Content: Descriptions of violence/Canon-typical Violence, Weapons (Guns, Knives), Mild Blood/gore

A/N: Whoops this took way longer than expected to finish but it ended up way longer than I originally planned so here we go! More tension and some much-needed mission action where Vig finally gets to show off a bit. I hope you enjoy it~

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[Read on AO3]

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She woke up late the next morning, grateful to actually have gotten some rest for the first time since she arrived in town. Vigilante was already awake. He was puttering around the room, focused on sorting out his armour pieces on his bed with his mask already on.

“How long have you been up?”

He jumped, not realizing she was awake. He turned towards her and shrugged. “A while, I don’t sleep much.”

“Have you eaten?” She pulled out two packets of instant oatmeal and two travel bowls from her pack.

He eyed the packets suspiciously as she held them up to him. “What flavour?”

“Maple and brown sugar, duh.”

He nodded his approval and she moved around him to fill the bowls with water and pop them in the microwave. She carefully handed him the warm bowl with a spoon and sat down on the edge of her bed to eat. He turned his back to her and rolled up the bottom of his mask before popping a spoonful of oatmeal into his now-exposed mouth.

“Seriously dude? You won’t even let me see you eat?”

“Safety precaution, I told you.” He huffed, blowing on his spoon to cool down the hot breakfast.

She rolled her eyes. “I can’t identify you in a lineup from just your chin.” He didn’t respond and continued to eat with his back to her. She was annoyed but decided not to press the topic. He got weirdly defensive every time it came up and she didn’t want to push it this early on.

She quickly finished her own bowl and rinsed it off in the sink. She walked around the motel room to grab her gear bag and unpack the equipment they’d need for the mission. She pulled out a gun case and several smaller attachés filled with blades. The second she unlatched the case, Vigilante popped up over her shoulder.

“Oh cool, a Walther PPK! Kinda small though isn't it?”

She rolled her eyes and tried not to snap at him. "It's not small, it's perfectly normal-sized."

"It's totally not normal, it's tiny." He looked down at the gun with a judgemental tone.

She gently removed it from the case, showing him how it fits perfectly in her grip before placing it back down.

"See, normal size! Don't shame me!"

He grabbed her wrist and held her hand still as he raised his own palm and pressed it against hers. She hadn't paid much attention to his hands before, she'd barely even noticed he hadn't put his gloves on yet.

But now she couldn’t help but stare as his large palm dwarfed hers entirely. His long thick fingers folded over the top of hers, covering her hand.

"See? Definitely not normal, you just have tiny hands."

She yanked her hand out of her grip and scowled at him. "I have normal hands, shut up.”

She rolled her eyes at him again and stepped back to make some space between them. “Let me guess, you use something insanely impractical like a Desert Eagle."

He laughed and shook his head. "Nah, that's more Peacemaker’s style. I keep it simple." He pulled out his gun belt from his pile of gear and snapped his pistol out of its holster.

He held it up for her and she immediately recognized it. A Walther PP, the same line as hers but a bulkier original model. The pistol was modded with a custom bronze-tinted shell, an understated look that she thought was surprising for Vigilante.

"Bronze? What, did they not come in teal?" She couldn't hold her tongue on that one, friendship order be damned.

His shoulders sagged as he sadly replied, "No! They couldn't even custom order it for me and I definitely asked. Like, a lot."

Of course, you did.

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep the snark to a minimum.

"Well, it's a decent weapon regardless of colour. You seem well equipped." She gestured towards the assembled pile on top of his mattress. His second pistol, an assortment of knives and his sword lay on top.

He cocked his head to the side before he realized she was looking at his weapons stash.

"Oh! Yeah, uh. I like to have options."

She laughed lightly. "Well, that's another thing we have in common."

She grabbed one of the attachés and opened it up for him to see. It was neatly packed with a variety of blades. The selection included a set of black throwing knives, several fixed blades with serrated edges and a pair of push daggers. She quickly unpacked the other case to reveal an assortment of folding blades, smaller throwing knives and a purple satin pouch.

He immediately reached over to grab one of the serrated blades and she smacked his hand away, shooting him an annoyed look.

"Watch it! Didn't your mom ever teach you not to grab things that aren't yours?"

"Nope." He reached back around her to try and grab it again so she smacked him a bit harder.

He yelped and pulled back his hand. "Hey, that hurt!" She's not certain but it sounded like he was pouting behind his mask.

"If you want to touch something, ask nicely first."

He sighed and crossed his arms childishly. "Fiiiine. May I touch the cool knives?" He hesitated for a second and then added a rushed 'please' at the end.

She chuckled at his petulant tone. "Okay, fine. But I'm not responsible if you hurt yourself."

He scoffed. "As if! You were the one who called me an 'impressively talented marksman', thank you very much!"

She raised an eyebrow. "That was with a rifle, not knives."

"Yeah well, I'm good with blades too."

She started to fire back a snarky response but was caught off guard as he deftly picked up a short-handled serrated blade. He spun it between his fingers, effortlessly flipping it around in his hand.

Okay, maybe he was right about being good with blades.

She watched the expert movements in shock, observing how he made the razor-sharp edge glide and twirl through the air with delicate precision.

Good might be an understatement, actually. Damn.

For someone who had never previously cared about hands, she was certainly doing a lot of staring at them today. She shook her head to clear her distracted thoughts.

“Alright, enough screwing around." She gestured for him to give back the blade. "We’ve got to head out soon. Did you get the coordinates from Harcourt?” She was back in business mode, mind focused on sorting the rest of her gear instead of his large and talented hands.

Vigilante sighed in disappointment but dutifully placed the knife back in the case and pulled out his phone.

“Yeah, the location isn’t far from here. Maybe a fifteen-minute drive? The road access cuts off and there are some woodlands nearby. We can set up there, it has a decent view of the place.”

Their assignment was simple. There was a rural farmhouse sitting on a large acreage outside of Evergreen. ARGUS had tracked some activity in the area and their intel indicated a group of suspected Butterflies were using it as a hub of some kind. The pair were supposed to set up onsite surveillance and confirm the presence of Butterflies in the house. At any sign of trouble or Butterflies on the move, orders were to shoot on sight.

She buckled her pistol into her belt holster and picked out a selection of knives to bring, carefully sliding something small out of the purple pouch and tucking it into a belt pocket when she thought Vig wasn’t looking. Her pack had the rest of the essentials needed for field missions, including an ample supply of granola bars, a GPS tracker and first aid supplies. After confirming Vigilante already had the Task Force X-issued rifle, scope and cameras in the car and triple checking her weapon selection, she was ready to go.

While she had geared up, Vigilante had done the same but faster. Waiting by the motel room door in full gear, he was antsy to get going. He opened the door for her and followed her out, locking it behind them. The pair climbed into the Sebring and pulled out of the motel lot. Vigilante was right, the site wasn't very far at all and they quickly turned off the rural road and tucked the car behind some foliage.

Vig opened the trunk, shouldered the rifle bag and grabbed the cameras. She had oriented herself quickly in the unfamiliar location and started to make her way through the woods. He followed closely behind her as they walked a short way and up a small hill. Once at the top, they had a full view of the acreage below. A large weather-worn farmhouse sat towards the front of the property, resting at the end of a wide gravel drive. Peeling red paint and a rotting deck tarnished what must have been a nice building at a previous point in time.

Setting up the cameras was the first order of business. They had a great view of the house and rigged up the surveillance easily, with one covering the front door and two on the back of the property and driveway. The next task was setting up the rifle.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" She asked him suspiciously, watching him swear under his breath as he fumbled with the rifle.

"Yes! Just give me a minute." He muttered back at her.

“Alright, fine.”

She turned away from him, grabbed a pair of binoculars from the kit and started scoping out the farmhouse. The state of the place was abysmal. The entire exterior was in disrepair with several windows cracked or broken and holes in the screens. Broken appliances and other junk littered the back.

How could anyone live in a place like this?

Frankly, it looked like no one was. Nothing looked recently used or accessed. There was no sign of life in or around the building. She frowned. This didn't match the intel.

Vigilante had finished setting up his stuff and plopped down beside her.

"So what's the deal?"

She sighed and pulled the binoculars down.

"It doesn't look like anyone's here. Honestly, it doesn't look like anyone's been here in years."

Vigilante groaned. "This isn't going to be fun is it?"

She shook her head at him. "Probably not."

As the day wore on, she was proven correct about that. Several hours had passed with no activity on the entire property.

The ground was hard and uncomfortable and Vigilante was restless. He was constantly moving around, humming to himself and generally complaining about the lack of action. He was making a lot of noise and it had started to annoy her.

“This is sooo boring,” Vigilante whined, fidgeting from his place on the ground.

She sat back on her heels and looked at him with a tired glare. “It’s recon work, it’s not supposed to be exciting.”

“Aren’t there supposed to be people here? What’s the point of us being here if this place is empty?”

As if on cue, they heard a crunching noise and watched as a large white cargo van drove up the gravel path leading to the house. They saw a tall man climb out of the driver's seat and enter the dilapidated building.

“Fucking finally!” Vigilante hops up off the ground and starts heading down the hill.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She grabbed him by the collar of his chest piece and yanked him back.

“Uh, I’m going to go kill that guy? Obviously.”

His nonchalant tone irritated her to no end. "No, you're not! Do you even know what recon means?"

He paused, thinking hard for a moment. "Re…constitute?"

Her face contorted in a mix of disbelief and frustration. "What? No! Why the fuck would it be reconstitute?" She shook her head at him. "It means reconnaissance."

"Is that French? How would I know that? I don't speak French!"

She sighed. "It's technically a loan word."

"A what?"

She successfully resisted the urge to hit him. "It's a word that was originally French but it was used so much that it became considered part of the English language too."

"Man, language is weird.” His voice got a little quieter. “So…what does it mean?"

She sighed again. “It means surveying. We’re just here gathering information, waiting and watching for a headcount on potential targets and their travel patterns. You can't just run in guns blazing!”

“Really?” He seemed surprised. “It works pretty well for me.”

Continuing to resist the urge to hit him was becoming more and more difficult for her. “We don’t even know if that guy is a Butterfly or not. We just need to keep an eye on him and be stealthy. Can you do that?

He crossed his arms across his chest and nodded. “I can be very stealthy.”

She squinted at him. “I kind of don't believe you.”

“It's true!” He protested a bit too loudly. “I am a master of stealth.”

“And being quiet?”

“If I’m quiet can I kill that guy soon?”

She thought for a moment and the temptation of his silence won out. “If he’s a Butterfly, yes.”

Vigilante sighed but accepted her answer, scrambling up off the ground.

“Remember, only if you’re quiet. We’re just watching for now.” She warned him.

He mimed zipping his mouth closed and nodded silently. She raised a doubtful eyebrow but nodded in return and turned back to the farmhouse with her binoculars. She watched the man walk by one of the cracked windows and then lost sight of him. She sat down on the ground and tried to find a comfortable position on the hard dirt.

She lost track of how much time she had spent staring through the cracked windows. Even though she knew someone was now inside, there was no sign of movement. She put the binoculars down in frustration. She refocused on her surroundings and noted it was actually quiet for once. She hadn’t heard Vigilante humming or muttering to himself in a while. She glanced over to where the rifle was set up but there was no sign of him.

Where was he?

Her thoughts were interrupted by two strong arms grabbing her from behind. She shrieked in surprise as the arms wrapped around her waist and suddenly she was in the air. Vigilante had snuck up behind her and grabbed her in a giant bear hug, lifting her off the ground and holding her tight against him.

"What the hell!" She tried not to scream at him but her voice carried anyways.

Once her initial shock wore off and she realised what he was doing, she immediately struggled against him to free herself. Unfortunately for her, she was unable to break his hold at all. She couldn't help but take note of how strong his grip was and how effortlessly he had picked her up.

She tried to get out of his hold again but ended up just flailing around uselessly. She stopped moving after she realised she was basically just grinding against him. He dared to laugh in her ear at her failed attempts to escape, which just incensed her further.

“Let me go!”

His grip around her tightened. "Only if you admit how super stealthy I am!"

She flailed some more before getting even more frustrated. She finally had enough, kicked her heel backwards and clipped him hard in the shin. He groaned in pain and finally released her. “Hey, no fair!”

She spun around and jabbed him in the chest with an accusatory finger. “We're supposed to be quiet! What if they heard that?”

He waved off her concern. “They didn't, it's fine.”

“How do you know?”

“Just trust me.”

She huffed and ignored him, picking up the binoculars from the ground to check for herself.

Goddammit.

He was right. There was no sign of movement inside the house and the man hadn’t come out to check on the noise.

"Can you at least admit I'm a master of stealth now?"

She grumbled to herself but well, technically he was right. “Fine, that was very fucking stealthy. But don't ever do that again, you got lucky this time Teal.”

“Teal?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged at him. “That’s your new nickname. Everyone gets one.”

“Everyone?”

“Everyone on the team." She started counting them off on her fingers. "There’s Big Red, Blondie, Dye-beard, New-girl-who’s-name-I-forget-but-seems-too-nice-for-this-job and Murn.”

“Just Murn? Why doesn't he get a nickname?”

She snorted. “Try giving that man a nickname and not die.”

“Oh. Yeah, fair.” He easily accepted her answer. “Her name’s Adebayo by the way.”

“Who?”

“The new girl. Leota Adebayo.”

“Huh." She nodded in appreciation. "Got it, thanks. I should try and remember that. She does seem nice.”

“She is! She’s my new fifth best friend. I told Peacemaker he should be friends with her too.”

“Wait, you rank your friends?”

“Yeah, obviously. Don’t you?”

“No! Who does that?”

Suddenly, the pair were interrupted by the slam of a front door. They both spun around in time to see the tall man exiting the farmhouse. They were stunned to see him being followed by half a dozen other people.

What the fuck!?

She grabbed the binoculars to get a better look at what was happening. The entire group was walking rigidly, with expressionless faces and dead eyes. One of the strangers trailed behind carrying a crate loaded with large glass bottles containing a strange liquid. The tall man climbed into the driver's seat of the van while the others filed robotically into the back.

"Shit! They're on the move." She cursed again and frantically grabbed her pack off the ground. She motioned to Vigilante to follow her and saw he had already grabbed the rifle and was headed in the same direction. They needed to get back to the Sebring as soon as possible and tail that cargo van.

"Where the fuck did all those people come from? What the fuck is happening?" She was out of breath as they ran to the vehicle and hopped in.

"No fucking idea but they're definitely Butterflies." He gunned the engine and pulled the car back around to face the road. Not a moment too soon as the white van rolled right past them. Vig started following them, slowly trailing behind to not get them spotted. After about five minutes the van pulled off into what looked like a dead end. As they followed down the turn the pair saw a wide stretch of land.

In the middle of the pasture was an open-walled barn structure. The group of Butterflies was milling around inside the structure silently. Each of them grabbed a glass jar of liquid from the case. She watched as they unscrewed the lids and extended a proboscis-like tongue and started lapping up the fluid.

"Oh, that's super gross." She mumbled to herself.

"See? Definitely Butterflies. Can I kill them now?"

She looked at Vigilante, who was bouncing around next to her waiting for the all-clear. The orders were to shoot on sight if things got weird.

"Yeah, fine. Go ahead."

He started humming happily to himself while he lined up the rifle scope.

"Think you can get them all?"

Vig snorted. "Uh, yeah. Not a problem."

She pulled out her binoculars and trained them on the targets. There were seven Butterflies in total, all standing around the open structure. She was grateful for the lack of walls, giving them both an easy view of the targets.

"Tell you what, drinks are on me if you can headshot every target." She was just kidding around. Despite Vigilante’s cockiness, she was sure he couldn’t pull that off.

He had finished setting up the rifle and was lining up his shot. “Deal. Count them for me.”

The first shot rang out and the tall male who had driven the van dropped to the ground as a bullet pierced through his forehead.

"One."

The Butterflies crowded over the body and looked around trying to locate the source of the shots. Vigilante fired again and caught another through the skull.

"Two."

The targets started to panic now, moving around and trying to scatter. Two more shots rang out in rapid succession. She watched two more Butterflies drop, one caught through the temple and one through the eye.

"Three. Four."

The remaining three had started to move faster, trying to flee the shelter. Vigilante fired again, taking down the closest one with another headshot.

"Five."

Is he seriously going to do it?

The Butterflies were running now and Vig needed to move fast. Two final shots echoed and the corresponding bodies dropped, unmoving with bullets lodged in the back of their skulls.

"Six. Seven."

Holy shit.

She spun towards him, dropping her binoculars. "Holy shit."

Vigilante leaned back from the rifle, still humming happily. "Told you I could do it."

"I didn't think it was possible. That was fucking amazing!" She grinned at him, wholly impressed with his performance. She hopped up off the ground and held out a hand to help him do the same.

“Alright hot shot, time to check your work.”

The pair quickly made their way down to the pasture. They needed to double-check check each Butterfly was actually dead and take some photos to ID them before sending a clean-up crew later on.

She trudged along the structure, looking down at the assorted bodies. Three were outside the building in the grass and the other four were scattered around inside. She left the furthest away ones to Vigilante and made her way around to the others. Dead, dead, dead. She still can barely believe he got all seven clean right through the head.

She walked towards the last body, one slumped against one of the building's support beams. She was right next to the corpse, looking at the hole in its head when suddenly something small twitched inside the wound. The body let out an inhuman screech and lurched upwards to grab at her.

She screamed in surprise as she tried to wrench herself away and not fall over. Vigilante rushed over and grabbed her by the waist, yanking her backwards and out of the corpse's grip. He slid a hand over her hip and grabbed something from her belt and flung it towards the Butterfly. A whirl of purple flew through the air and embedded itself deep into its head. Blood and some strange shimmery fluid sprayed across her at the impact, splashing across her face. Another screech sounded before growing quiet and the body slumped back over, unmoving.

“Hey, what the fuck!” She shoved him away and tried to wipe the mess from her face, only succeeding in smearing it more.

"You've got to get the things in their skulls or they don't stay down." He offered as an explanation.

“I really would've liked to have known that before now. That was fucking disgusting! And was that my knife?!” She whips around and leans down to inspect the Butterfly's corpse. With a solid yank, she pulled out the purple-handled blade from where it was embedded in the skull and glowered at him.

“What did I say about grabbing things?!” She practically screamed.

“It was kind of an emergency.” He threw his hands up in defence. “I had to think quickly!”

She scowled as she carefully inspected the knife for any damage, thankfully finding none.

Of course, he had to grab this one. Idiot.

He was annoyed with being yelled at by her. "You know I did just save you, you could say thank you. It's just a knife!"

She hesitated to answer. "This one is …special."

“Why is it unbalanced?”

She glared at him. “That's a security measure. It’s supposed to make it harder for someone to use if they steal it from me.”

“Huh.” He cocked his head to the side and looked at her. “It didn’t, by the way. It was really easy to compensate for.”

She narrowed her eyes, then stepped forward suddenly and wiped the sullied knife on his sleeve before slipping it back into her belt.

“Ew, gross! What did you do that for?” He jumped back and held out his sleeve to observe the new stain.

“You got blood on my face! Also, don’t take my stuff!” She snapped angrily and stomped out of the barn, sidestepping the rest of the Butterfly corpses. Vigilante trailed after her, muttering complaints about his ruined shirt.

They made their way back to the Sebring, slung the gear in the back and climbed in. She pulled down the passenger side mirror and inspected the smears of blood and who knows what else on her face. She grimaced at the disgusting sight and sighed in frustration at her appearance.

“Here.”

Vigilante nudged her and handed her a pack of wet wipes. She stared down at the offering for a moment before accepting the item. She opened the wipes and started cleaning her face, relaxing slightly.

“Thanks.”

“I’m sorry about the blood.” He meant it. He had reacted instinctively when she was in trouble, the splatter was an accident.

She finished dabbing the last spots on her face and handed him back the wet wipes. “And taking my knife?”

He huffed but continued. “Okay, yes. I’m also sorry for taking your knife.” He paused for a moment and then continued in a slightly more bitter tone. “Even though I totally saved your life. And also killed all the other people. And drove us everywhere.”

She crossed her arms in annoyance and raised her voice. “You want a thank you for doing your job?”

His shoulders sagged and the tone disappeared from his voice. “Kind of, yeah. I was trying to impress you.”

She lowered her arms and her volume to match. “Alright, theft of my property aside,” She shot him a look. “You did, in fact, impress me. You did a really good job today. I didn’t even think making every single one of those shots was possible but fuck, you killed it out there.”

He chuckled at her terrible play on words and seemed a bit more at ease after the praise. “I believe you owe me drinks now.”

She groaned, that was supposed to be a joke. “Fine. I’m nothing if not a woman of my word. What’s your poison of choice?”

He thought for a moment before deciding. “Whiskey.”

She whipped out her phone and checked their location. “Alright, the nearest liquor store back in town is closed for tonight so I’ll have to grab your victory drinks tomorrow. But there’s good news, the pizza place near the motel is still open.” She held her phone out towards him so he could see the menu. “Go ahead and pick the toppings.”

“You’re letting me choose?” He was confused seeing as she had just been very mad at him.

She rolled her eyes. “Standard protocol, the agent with the highest body count each mission picks the pizza. No sense breaking from tradition.”

He took the phone from her and selected his favourite combo, double pepperoni and bacon, before handing it back. He pulled the Sebring out of the brush and got on the road heading back towards the motel.

The ride back was quiet. Vig pulled up in front of the tiny, clearly family-run pizza place and she ducked inside to pick up their order before they made it back to the motel. Parking at the far end of the lot again, they headed inside their suite.

She placed the pizza down on the coffee table near the TV and loveseat before walking over to her bed. She grabbed a toiletries case and her pjs before heading to the bathroom.

"I'm just gonna hop in the shower, still feeling a little gross." She called out to Vigilante. He was in the middle of stripping off his armour pieces and gave her a thumbs-up before she closed the door.

The motel shower had zero water pressure and was way more cramped than she preferred but at least it was clean and had hot water. She didn't waste her time and made quick work of cleaning herself up.

She exited the bathroom, feeling refreshed and comfortably changed into her pjs. She realised she was absolutely starving and quickly walked over to the pizza box on the coffee table to grab a slice. She plopped down in the middle of the loveseat and took a huge bite, savouring the hot food. As she was chewing, she turned towards Vigilante and choked.

He was standing over his mattress packing up his gear, with his side turned towards her. That was normal. The reason she was currently coughing up pizza from her lungs was the fact that he was doing it shirtless.

The edge of his black mask contrasted sharply with his bare skin and drew her eyes down to his shoulders and arms. He was surprisingly bulky. Broad shoulders led into thick, toned biceps and down into muscular forearms, with those large hands she had tried to forget about earlier.

“Holy shit.”

She didn’t even realise she had said that out loud until he turned towards her. Her eyes widened as she was confronted with a full frontal view of his shirtless torso.

She couldn't help but take in the view, it was the first good look at him she'd gotten without his armour on. A spattering of freckles and various scars dotted his skin, decorating the expanse of his muscles. She couldn't help but trail her eyes across his pecs down his well-developed abs. A whisper of dark hair trailed into his waistband along the v-cut above his hips and she caught herself wondering what else he was hiding under his clothes.

Fuck.

"What was that?" He hadn't heard exactly what she'd said while he was turned around.

She tore her gaze away from him, trying to pretend she wasn't flustered as hell.

“Wh- why are you half-naked?” She managed to splutter out.

“You got blood on my shirt.”

"Oh. Right."

Her gaze slowly drifted back over his exposed chest. …and abs…and hips…

How the fuck did he manage to hide all those muscles under his suit?

“Are you okay? You have a weird look on your face." Vigilante was patiently looking at her, waiting for a response.

She was jolted back down to earth and tried desperately to fight the blush creeping up her cheeks.

"Uh, yeah. I'm fine. It was too hot." Her eyes widened at her unintended phrasing. "The pizza! The pizza was too hot, burnt my tongue. Got distracted. By the hot pizza!" She coughed into her hand and turned away from him to hide her embarrassment.

Real fucking smooth. You're here to work, not be a creep. Calm down.

"You should put your pyjamas on." She quickly added, "You know, so you won’t get cold.”

“Uh, okay. Sure.” He simply shrugged and walked over to his mattress.

When she worked up the nerve to look back at him, Vigilante had indeed put on his pyjamas. He was still standing near the beds, looking over at her.

"We can both sit here if you want, it's fine." She scooted over to make as much room for him as she could on the two-seater couch.

He came over and sat down then looked over at the pizza box. He hesitated for a moment but after a beat, he had made a decision. He rolled up his mask over his nose without turning away from her. She cautiously said nothing, not wanting to make him nervous. Instead, she took the chance to subtly examine the newly visible lower half of his face while he grabbed a piece of pizza.

Her eyes traced up the length of his thick neck and across his sharp, defined jaw. She noticed there was a hint of dark stubble across his chin and cheeks. She watched him lift a slice to his plush lips and she unconsciously bit her lip when his Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed.

What was that about calming down?

She quickly glanced away, not wanting to be caught ogling him yet again. This was a job, he was a coworker. She needed to keep it professional.

After he had finished the piece of pizza in his hand, he turned toward her. "Hey, it's Fargo night. Do you mind if I put it on?"

She shrugged casually as he grabbed the remote and flipped to the right channel. "Go ahead. But what the fuck is Fargo?"

He froze reaching for another slice and gasped in shock that she didn’t know what Fargo was. She nearly regretted asking as soon as he launched into an overly animated retelling of the entire plot and each individual character. He was going to chat her ear off about this the entire night, wasn’t he?

Ah well, I guess he earned it for today.

She cut him some slack and smiled passively, feigning interest as he continued talking through the whole episode to explain it all for her. She didn’t want to let him know she wasn’t listening at all and was simply enjoying the excuse to steal glances at his mouth the whole time. Somewhere near the end of the night, his endless talking had lulled her to sleep.

Vigilante eventually noticed she had curled up on her side of the couch with her head on the armrest. He quietly turned off the television and grabbed a pillow and sheet from his bed. Careful not to wake her up, he tucked the pillow under her head and covered her with the blanket before climbing into his own bed and turning off the lights.

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A/N: These two are playing a game I like to call "awkward dance of the idiots", though I'm pretty sure shirtless Vigilante would melt anyone's brain lol. More slow burn, patience will definitely be rewarded soon I promise! Let me know what you think so far <3

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