Adrian Chase X Reader - Tumblr Posts

The Distraction

Summary: Every now and then Peacemaker has a solo mission. Whenever these happen, Vigilante has to be distracted so he doesn't make the solo into a duo. The only person that is capable of that is the girl that Adrian hates... no, that can't be right. He doesn't hate her, not really. Quite the opposite, actually.

Tags: Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Smut, Movie Night, Inspired by Scream (Movies), Cock Warming, Blow Jobs, Awkwardness, Ghostface Mask (Scream), Roleplay

Music Recommendation: She's Crazy but She's Mine by Alex Sparrow

Peacemaker, Adrian Chase Masterlist - here

There was something about Y/N that Adrian didn't like. She wasn't particularly mean. She wasn't incompetent. She wasn't overly uncouth. He never could put his finger on why she irked him so much. All he knew is that there was something different about her from the rest of the 11th Street Kids and that if someone were to ask him what it was, he wouldn't have the faintest idea what to pinpoint.

"Black coffee for Harcourt," Y/N said as she placed the cup in front of Emilia. Of course she left Adrian till last. She always did. "And winner of the sweetest order known to man - or rather man-child - for the third consecutive month, here is your mocha cookie crumble frappuccino with two sugars, Adrian."

His drink appeared before him with a flick of her wrist. It looked good, no matter who gave it to him. It smelled heavenly. He took a sip, closed his eyes, and sighed blissfully at the taste. For the next few hours, he'd be on a sugar high.

"Y/N, take him with you to the store," Emilia ordered. There was no way she was keeping Adrian around when he would be jumping around the room, making annoying noises and distracting everyone from their work. Plus, somehow, Y/N could contain him. She had the patience to deal with his long rambles of nonsense and endless questions. It drove most people insane.

Not Y/N though. She simply smiled and nodded. "Come on, bud. We're doing a medicine run."

"Hate it when you call me that," he muttered under his breath as he stood up from his seat with a huff. He followed behind her obediently as he drank his drink, holding the cup with both hands to ensure he didn't drop it.

As they walked out, the pair saw Chris walking towards them. He was late. Like usual. That's one thing Adrian loved about Chris - he managed to make tardiness look cool. Fuck, everything Chris did was cool to Adrian.

"Hey dude!" Adrian yelled cheerfully at his friend and waved. And since they were best friends, Chris would definitely want to know "Tonight is my night off and was thinking, totally just a thought and not something concrete, you know, I'll get some beers and we could hang-"

"Oh my God, your voice is super whiny in the morning."

Seeing the way Adrian's face fell, Y/N couldn't help but retort, "It's one in the afternoon, dickwipe. Get inside. Your coffee, which I should've spat in, is on your desk," and pulled Adrian away to her car before Chris could say something else.

The pair made it to her car in silence, but it didn't last long. As he sat and buckled in, Adrian had to chastise her, "You shouldn't talk to Peacemaker that way. He's a nice dude! And as his number two bestie, I can't see you disrespect him like that."

Rolling her eyes, Y/N started up the engine and drove off. He always did that. If it came to light that Peacemaker had been the one who killed his family, Y/N was doubtful that Adrian would put aside his admiration and try to get revenge. That wasn't the case, but sometimes she wondered why the actual fuck he idolised the big goon so much.

"Okay, buddy."

"Stop calling me that."

Silence ensued again, then Adrian started rambling about his favourite House of The Dragon character, which was Aemond by a long shot because "Not only does he have an eyepatch, like all badasses do, but he delivered one of the coldest lines of the whole show."

Obviously, he was talking about, "I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon," and Y/N knew that too as she recited the line to him.

"Yeah! Exactly!"

There it was again. That feeling that made him dislike being around her reared its head. Adrian hated it. He tried to ignore it, even when it became a real problem. Because honestly, what the hell could he possibly do anyway? Fight her? Sure, he could, but that was probably the stupidest plan Adrian had ever come up with.

Hurting her was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Where did that brain of yours go?" she asked. He didn't realise that he'd zoned out until she brought him back to reality, and he found himself staring at her. For a moment, he forgot where they were. Oh right, she was driving…And she was looking directly at him and waiting for an answer...

His throat felt dry. "Um..."

"Ade, you okay?" she prompted, concern clear in her tone.

"Sorry, I was daydreaming."

She narrowed her eyes sceptically at him but chose not to comment on it. She just shook her head, as if telling him not to worry about it, and continued on with their previous conversation, her voice soft and calming and soothing and beautiful, like honey pouring down his ears - which was a contrast to their other friends.

It was always "You fucking idiot" from Harcourt. Or, "Dude, you're so Goddamn weird" from Economos. Sometimes a "What creepy little planet do you live on?" From Adebayo. And, a guaranteed "Not now, dipshit" from Peacemaker. None of that came from Y/N. No, she spoke to Adrian in a kind, gentle tone as if he mattered, as if he were a human being, as if he weren't some freaky piece of shit who was constantly causing trouble for her and their fellow colleagues.

A smile curled onto his lips involuntarily, unbidden and without meaning to, causing the corners of his lips to raise higher than they ever should. This was what Y/N did to Adrian. And he hated it. Hated how she controlled him. How she made him smile and laugh and feel things that he had never felt before. He didn't enjoy it. At all.

But he was powerless to stop himself from doing it. Because, after all, Y/N was pretty cool and funny and cute, and she got along really well with just about anyone. And Adrian, well, Adrian didn't possess such skills. He was alone. And that was fine. He could deal with the loneliness by himself. Alone. Completely alone.

They arrived at the store at the same moment the coffee began to take effect. The first indication that the caffeine rush had started was when Adrian slammed the car door and Y/N was sure that he was only a few newton's away from breaking the window.

"Woah. Careful, tiger."

It worked. His mouth shut, and he nodded. "Sorry. Still not used to having muscles."

As soon as they came across a bin, Adrian nudged Y/N to make a big spectacle out of it when he threw his empty coffee cup at it. "Kobe," he cheered with an expectant grin. He missed the bin and ended up hitting the wall behind it instead. The sound of plastic smashing against the bricks and the unmelted ice going everywhere reverberated through the parking lot.

"Go pick it up."

He complied as quickly as he could. By the time he returned from picking the trash up, Y/N had got a basket and was inside the store, already walking to the pharmacy section. He sauntered over to her, trying to look inconspicuous while taking his sweet time so he could watch every little movement she made. It was his own personal surveillance mission.

Her hair seemed to bounce every time she stepped. Everytime. And every time the bouncing happened, Adrian felt the urge to reach out and touch it, just to watch the way strands swirled around his fingers. Like, was it as soft as it looked? He hoped it was greasy and gross and completely disgusting to touch.

When he got to her side, he stretched to grab the bandages she was trying to grab at but was failing to because she was a little too short. With an almost coy smile, he smiled down at her and tried not to have a heart attack as she gazed up at him with the most beautiful doe eyes he'd ever seen.

Those damn eyes. Did this woman have no shame? Was she purposely flirting with him? Or was she seriously oblivious to all the feelings he was having for her? Either option sucked. Either way, the fact remained that Adrian Chase was experiencing feelings.

Feelings! Of all fucking things! Gross! Uncomfortable, annoying, horrible, embarrassing, disgusting emotions! And, he wasn't sure how much he hated how much it affected him. That was the worst part. Or maybe the worst part was that deep down he may have, possibly...there was a chance - no matter how slim - that he sort of liked having that weird fuzzy feeling in his brain whenever he saw Y/N. Maybe. Just maybe. A tiny bit. Not much, of course. A smidgeon. Enough, however, to be alarming.

"Ah, my hero," she teased, bumping his shoulder lightly with hers, and then proceeded to carry on down the aisle. "Do you want the fun band-aids?"

Scratch that. It's actually a lot. A colossal amount of like. Who knows, maybe he even adored her attention in the way a heroin addict is fond of spoons. Or heroin.

"Is that a question you even need to ask?"

Chuckling, she dropped two packs of Hello Kitty plasters into the basket. That basket was quickly taken from her hands and the handles were soon nestled in the crook of Adrian's arm.

"About later on - you know, what you were saying to Peacemaker - I'm not doing anything. If you want someone to hang out with, I'm free," she offered, and he looked slightly startled as she did.

There was no way someone was willingly going to invite him to spend time with them.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll be sick of me by then."

"Impossible," she scoffed, shaking her head at the idea. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm quite fond of you, Adrian."

And there it was again! The butterflies, not the alien body snatcher kind either. His heart was doing that stupid flip that it did whenever she said words like this. And that was why he needed to change the subject before they said something stupid that neither of them would be able to take back.

"Can I get some candy?"

"Sure."

Skipping to the confectionary aisle, Adrian was quick to survey the sweets as if it were the most important decision he could ever make in his entire life. Y/N stood beside him, an adoring smile on her face as she observed his antics but soon felt her phone buzz in her pocket and diverted her attention to that.

Boss Bitch: Run distraction tonight. Solo mission.

Adrian crouched down to get a closer inspection and almost lost his balance, but, like second nature, Y/N placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him. That simple touch did strange things to Adrian. But Y/N was oblivious to the effect she had and even went further to move her fingers to rest on the top of his head, stroking gently through his hair as she texted with Harcourt.

Peacemaker had solo missions every now and again. As did Vigilante. Though Vigilante did have a habit of intruding Peacemaker's solo missions. Why not? He wanted to spend as much time with his good buddy as he could. And a helping hand was always good, right?

Since Adebayo went back to her dog business and Economos had been promoted to be the warden of Belle Reve, Y/N was added to replace them both. Yet, there had become a new dynamic between the current four members of the 11th Street Kids.

Emilia had become an unofficial handler of Peacemaker. Y/N had done the same for Vigilante. The women were dignified badasses in their own right, but the other half of their squad were dignified idiots who needed, for lack of a better word, babysitting. So, often, Y/N was tasked with distracting Adrian for the entire night if Chris had a mission.

"Wanna have a movie night tonight? I've been planning to rewatch all the Scream's in prep for the new one," Y/N suggested, giving his head a little scratch so he'd pay attention to her words.

"Hell yeah! Fucking love those movies!" he cheered, craning his head back to beam up at her with the brightest smile on his face, making Y/N chuckle softly at his excitement. There was something endearing about a man who was so willing to show true, unfiltered enthusiasm.

After that, he gathered way too many snacks that he knew were perfect for their upcoming movie night and followed Y/N around with so much pep in his step. The rest of the day passed by in a blur, the hours passing in a flash as he waited for work to be over so he could get the frickin party started.

He'd been talking nonstop, which he usually did, and Y/N did a lot of nodding as he told her all sorts of trivia about the franchise. Sometimes she zoned out, not because what he was saying wasn't interesting - it was - but because he had a habit of getting the words out so fast that they would blur together and it took so much focus to hear them, break them down and understand that she stopped trying all together.

"Roman is actually a badass. He did all that shit by himself, y'know? Yeah, 3 is not the best and Jill is the most entertaining, but Roman not only was the singular ghost face - a real independent dude - but he was the mastermind behind Billy and Stu so that's some crazy planning! Although in the original script Angelina was supposed to help him out with it so you can take that into account if you want to..."

Her head fell onto her hand, watching as he talked and gestured animatedly with his arms. She found herself staring at him with a small smile forming on her lips, the warmth in her chest rising to her cheeks when he finally paused.

"What?" he asked, looking up from his hands and meeting her gaze, a slight flush of pink staining his cheeks as well.

"Nothing," she replied, shaking her head.

"Sorry, I was boring you. I get it. I'll -' He mimed pulling a zip over his lip, but still carried on talking. "I'll shut up, sorry. Peacemaker tells me all the time that I just go on and on and on and-"

"Please keep talking, Adrian. I'm enjoying listening to your voice."

Bullshit. He called bullshit. Complete. Only an idiot would fall for a trick like that.

"Yeah right," he scoffed dismissively, glancing away as he twirled his car keys around his pointer finger. "I promise I won't talk throughout the movie. I promise."

They'd watched the odd movie together before so she knew this was not entirely true. He often liked to add commentary and facts along with the film. Films were the easiest way to distract him. She was saving the Lord of the Rings marathon for a really important Peacemaker mission. And the Twilight marathon was for a life or death mission.

"I just need to shower and get changed. I'll be at yours in forty. Sound good?"

"Sounds good. Like, so good," he agreed readily. "See you in a few."

As he watched her walk towards her car, he let out a long breath and tried not to think about the fact that it would be just them. Just the two of them in his small apartment, the lights low and popcorn popping as they sat curled together on the couch as he tried his absolute best to make her laugh. He'd make sure she paid attention to him and not a movie. Every single bit of her focus needed to be on him, or he'd die. Actually die.

God, was he pathetic. Utterly pathetic. This crush was too strong. Too intense. It was a disease. And it didn't matter how hard he fought against it. It simply refused to leave his system and left him feeling weak. Weak and helpless and utterly alone in the vastness of the cruel existence she'd doomed him to live within for the foreseeable future.

Yet, he couldn't bring himself to feel down about it. He was cursed, yes, but a life without Y/N in it had been ten times worse than his current lovesick one. Ten times worse. Maybe ten thousand times worse.

Once he arrived at his apartment, it was go time. Adrian hurried to clear the odd bits of tat he'd left out and found the few comforts he had to throw on the couch to make it seem like this place looked lived in. His house was spartan and impersonal because he rarely spent time there. And due to the fact that it was a small place anyway - a tiny kitchen/living room, bathroom, bedroom, that's it - there wasn't a lot of space for him to have a bunch of shit. The majority of shelves were lined with DVDs and cupboards stuffed full of weapons.

Between his job and patrol, he only used his house to shower, jerk off and watch tv. (usually in that order). His car was the central hub for his life. The Vigilante mobile was where he ate, napped, changed clothes, and watched stupid YouTube videos to entertain himself when patrol got particularly boring.

Now, however, he had to pretend that he was a normal, dateable person instead of an insomniac workaholic. So much for the 'I need to impress her' speech that he gave himself whenever these movie nights happened. Y/N never seemed to mind his ineptitude at interior design, though.

There was one piece of hair that suddenly wanted to drift right in the middle of his forehead and it was pissing Adrian off so much as it would bounce back as soon as he swiped it away. The moment he went to pick up the scissors to really deal with it, his doorbell went off and stopped the whole new haircut moment from happening.

With no time to waste, Adrian swung the door wide open to reveal a very comfy looking Y/N wearing a pair of sweats and a loose fitting cardigan, one hand stuffed inside her pocket, a bottle of wine in the other one. He only realised he had been examining each aspect of her until she teased, "You gonna let me in?"

"Oh, uh, yeah," he stuttered, stepping aside, his brain not yet coming up with a reply that came close to sounding cool. What else was new?

Y/N breezed past him, greeting him with a quick squidge on his bicep as she made her way into the kitchen. He stared after her for a few seconds before following suit. As she set the bottle of wine down on the counter beside him, his eyes narrowed curiously as he asked, "Wine?"

Wine tasted too much like acid for him to like. Had all these adults lying about how nice wine had been his entire life? Because every time he tried it, it was as if someone had blended a battery and placed it before him as if to say 'Voila! Why don't we take grape juice, keep it in a jug until all the good things about the taste are removed and then pretend that it's better now?!'

Beer was just as bad. Does alcohol have to taste bad? Adrian thought. It would be nice if there was liquid out there that would make him look like an adult when he drank it - let's be real, cocktails gave a tendency to look stupid, especially if there's little umbrellas or sparklers in them - but be actually nice to consume.

Almost as if she had read his thoughts, Y/N announced, "Supposedly, it tastes like cotton candy. I was curious," and began unwrapping the foil around the top and pulling at the cork until a pop was heard, and she smiled widely, pleased at the sound.

And, since he hadn't moved to get them glasses - Jesus, of course he didn't own wine glasses - she took a swig from the bottle and held it out for Adrian to do the same. He hesitantly complied and took a small sip. Surprisingly, a pleasant and sweet taste spread through his mouth, which was something he'd never expected, and he let out an approving hum.

"Good?"

"Yeah, good. Really good," he answered with a nod and handed the bottle back, wiping his mouth clean on his sleeve. This wine didn't make him gag. He could appreciate that. "What food do you wanna order? There's a new Mexican place in town. I know you like Mexican so..." He trailed off unsurely, his hand searching for the menu he'd picked up just in case this moment ever happened.

Once he found it, he handed it to her and watched as her eyes lit up. "Oooooh!" She grinned happily, opening up the page and scanning the options.

Adrian observed in silence as she evaluated every picture and mumbled to herself about what they should order, occasionally pausing to look up at Adrian to check if he also liked the dish. He nodded and hummed and said the occasional thing when necessary, but he felt a little awkward standing around and guided her towards his couch so they could sit.

While Y/N phoned and ordered, Adrian busied himself by putting the movie on and neatly ordering the next consecutive movies on his coffee table. It was unneeded, but he got some weird kick from seeing them perfectly in order. Who knows why.

Then the call was done, and they could start, as you usually do, with the first movie in the franchise, Scream. They sat shoulder to shoulder, occasionally passing the wine between them. Adrian was a little stiff at first, his back rigid against the cushions, but eventually calmed down and started leaning into Y/N more with every passing minute. Her shoulder felt soft against his cheek. He'd soon come to realise that.

But, his annoyance spiked once the delivery driver knocked on the door, thus causing his head to no longer be resting against her. He was suddenly bereft of Y/N's warmth and quickly decided that killing the delivery man might have been a good idea. No. No. He couldn't do that. Instead, he took a breath, got to his feet, and retrieved their food with a grumpy pout on his face. So what if he was a little rude to this one random guy? At least he didn't kill him.

The moment his butt hit his sofa again, he dug right in, shovelling the food into his mouth faster than he thought possible. Honestly, he forgot when he last had a proper meal. The last week or so, he'd been on patrol a lot and took very minimal breaks for snacks.

"There's a common theory that you can tell if it's Billy or Stu behind the mask by the way they hold their knife," Adrian mumbled through a mouthful of food, his words barely comprehensible. "Stu holds the knife with two hands over his head, while Billy holds it with one hand and gets really into it..." He continued to ramble on about random facts about the film while eating, unable to stop himself. Since Y/N wasn't stopping him, why would he?

Y/N was nodding along, listening intently. Her eyes shone with interest, and her lips were slightly curved upwards. It was weird. Being listened to was weird for Adrian. He liked it, but he hated it too. Whenever he spoke and it fell on deaf ears, that was fine because his words wouldn't really amount to anything. They didn't matter since the other person wasn't going to remember them anyway.

Often, he lied and made up facts and tried to spread misinformation as a way to entertain himself. If his words held no weight, he might as well make them fun to say. He told the truth around Y/N, though.

When she looked at him with those beautiful eyes and listened to him talk without interrupting, he always felt a need to share himself. Share what he knew, what he found interesting in the hopes she'd find it interesting too. He liked to think that she did find it entertaining, and, most importantly, he liked her attention.

Even when his words were nothing special, even when he had no use for them anymore, Y/N still cared enough about him to listen, to pay attention to what he had to say. That was a feeling he couldn't help but treasure.

Finishing the final bite of his food, he crumpled up the wrapper and threw it at the bin. "Kobe!" This time, it went perfectly in. Then, satisfied with himself, he flopped back onto the couch pillow with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling and letting his mind wander.

Wouldn't it be so crazy right now if I, like, kissed Y/N? And she'd totally swoon and say, 'Oh Adrian, I think you're so cool and hot and would make a great ghostface. Huh, I bet you'd be even better than Roman.' Then we'd really start making out, and she'd be soooo impressed by how big my dick is. 'Why does Peacemaker call you thimble?' and I'd be all like 'He's just jealous of how sexy I am' and she'd giggle and agree, and that's how it would go down.

"Hey bud, you okay?" Y/N's voice cut through his musings, breaking him out of his trance and startling him for a second before he remembered where he was. Right. Y/N was beside him. Thinking of her in such a way was kinda weird when she was right there. Kinda. His gaze shifted to her, noting that she was looking back at him with a raised eyebrow.

A small shy smile spread across his face as he rubbed at the back of his neck. "Yea, yeah. I'm alright." He paused for a beat before he added, "What about you? Are you...okay?"

"...I think so."

"Good. That's good. Yeah, y'know, just say the word if not cause I'll totally... I'll do whatever I can to make you happy, like whatever. Need me to kill someone and I'll fucking do it, no question... just say the word, Y/N, whatever it is..." He trailed off nervously, scratching at his cheek and trying to sound as casual as he possibly could as he added, "I... I'd do anything for you."

Well, that came out of his mouth. Shit. Fuck. Oh fuck. Shit shit shit. There was no way, no fucking way that she would misunderstand the sentiment there. Panic instantly erupted throughout every single cell of his body.

Yet, the expression on her face softened. She leaned towards him, brushing that stray lock of his hair that had been annoying him so much away from his forehead, placing her fingers gently underneath his chin and tilting his head upwards. He blinked owlishly, watching her, waiting for her to speak.

Just as it seemed as if she was going to say something heartfelt, the infamous garage door death appeared on screen and Y/N's eyes flickered over to it briefly before settling back on his face, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

"Anything?"

"Anything."

The sincerity behind his reply was evident.

"Pass me the blanket then."

Thank god. Adrian relaxed, let out a chuckle, and obliged, pulling the white fluffy blanket that hung beside him on the armrest and tossing it towards her. She caught it deftly and draped it over herself, holding the corner out to him expectantly.

"I don't bite."

"Hm. Sure ya don't," he laughed, moving closer and taking the fabric to wrap it around himself. He glanced sideways at her for a split second, catching a glimpse of her smile before she turned her face to the screen.

Huh, this had gone way better than he ever expected, and the relief he felt was undeniable. He sighed softly, inconspicuously sliding an arm on the back of the couch and subtly brushing his fingers over her shoulder. His heart hammered in his chest. He could feel his pulse racing and his cheeks burning bright red.

This was nice. It definitely was. The silence, the warmth, the comfortable atmosphere, everything. He never wanted this to end. He never wanted it to leave. But he knew it eventually would have to go, so he pushed those thoughts aside and rested his eyes on the screen, ignoring the pounding in his chest and the sudden butterflies that filled his stomach.

Scream one ended, and he'd managed to fully wrap his arm around her shoulders, resting comfortably on her without any misguided belief that she was oblivious to his moves.

All throughout two, he occasionally poked at her cheek or pulled at her ear, trying to divert her attention to him. Every time she'd smile and look at him from the corner of her eye, only to return to the TV and pretend to focus on the screen. Then, when he had done it enough times to actually be irritating, she caught his hand before he made contact with her cheek and placed her fingers between his own, lacing their fingers together.

Rather abruptly, he posed the question, "Who is your favourite ghostface?" and she took the time to ponder her answer. As Y/N thought, she gently tapped her fingertips against his knuckles, and that unconscious movement brought a blush to his cheeks.

"Jill is the obvious answer. She's a girl boss, and I think - I have no idea if this is a popular theory or anything - that she got Charlie to do most of the killing because she wanted to seem as innocent as possible. Only Charlie and Trevor died by her hand."

"Hmmm..." He hummed, thinking it over for a second. "That's actually pretty smart."

"Yeah, I'm a genius." Her playful tone was clear. "What about you?"

"Stu, I guess, cause he's the funniest. Or Roman. Or maybe Mickey since he was charming despite it all."

"And handsome."

He nodded and hummed in agreement but felt a brief pang of jealousy that only got worse when she admitted, "Mickey was definitely the hottest ghostface." Yet, it turned into a sly grin when she added "Though I gotta say all of them are pretty hot... that mask does something...something, I don't know what, to me."

"Even Mrs Loomis?"

"Especially Mrs Loomis," she replied with a smirk.

Ah, a plan was formulating. He just had to wait for a moment alone to execute it. After all, it wasn't every day he had the exact thing he needed to fulfil her wishes.

That time came sooner than anticipated when she excused herself to the bathroom as Adrian was in the process of putting Scream 3 on. They were already three and a half hours into the whole marathon, and taking a break maybe was beneficial, Adrian thought.

Was it a prank? Or a seduction technique? That would all depend on her reaction.

Y/N finished up in the bathroom and planned on moving back to the sofa and, most importantly, back to the comfortable embrace she'd been in. When she arrived at the couch, Adrian was nowhere to be found. Had he left? Was he in the kitchen getting more snacks? She didn't see him in the kitchen, and his house wasn't really big enough to hide in. Sure, they'd turned the lights down to ensure they got an 'authentic' cinema experience, but it wasn't that dark.

The only way she would have minor trouble when being able to see him was if he was wearing all black. He hadn't been. It was what he usually wore: blue jeans and a nerdy t-shirt.

"Ade? Where'd you run off to?"

She looked around but she saw no signs of him anywhere. Weird. After patting herself down to find her phone - which was in her backpocket like usual - she went to send him a quick text but was interrupted by someone yanking her back into their chest and a knife pressed against her throat.

Right next to Y/N's ear, she heard a very distinctive voice ask, "What's your favourite scary movie?" and she relaxed a bit in their arms. She should've guessed he'd have the whole ensemble, mask and all.

"Probably Jack and Jill, that Adam Sandler flick, god, it was awful. Just torture, if you ask me."

There was a robotic snort omitted from the mask.

"What about you, Mr Ghostface, what movie scares you?"

"17 Again. I'd kill myself if I had to revert to my teenage self."

Shifting her head to get a better look at the mask, she unconsciously bit down her bottom lip as she took it in, her eyes trailing all over it as if she was studying every inch of it. And when he held the tip of the blade under her chin to tilt her head up, there was no denying that she gulped rather thickly.

"You feeling a bit woozy there?" He smirked beneath the mask, leaning in towards her, the tip of the blade grazing along her jawline. She couldn't help but shiver slightly but didn't move back from the touch, keeping her gaze locked onto the mask.

Some small part of her brain was ringing alarm bells. Murder happy dude who likes to wear a mask is an apt description for both Vigilante and Ghostface. But, she told it to shut the hell up, to shut the fuck up and just go ahead and enjoy yourself, right?! It was Adrian, after all. He'd had plenty of opportunities to murder her before and hadn't taken it.

"Maybe I am," she replied in a breathless tone , her heart starting to thump loudly inside her chest. His smirk widened into a satisfied grin, and he cocked his head to the side.

Wordlessly, he let her out of the grapple and sat back on the sofa as if nothing had happened, leaving her slightly confused, somewhat disappointed, and very flustered. He reached over and grabbed the remote from where he placed it on the coffee table earlier and pressed play on the next movie. He didn't look over at her, nor did he acknowledge what had just happened at all as she took her place beside him.

Tension was thick in the air and neither dared to utter a single word. Y/N was watching him out of the corner of her eyes because, as safe as she felt, it was still weird to have ghostface right next to you while that same icon was killing people on screen.

Adrian was gathering the courage to make a move. An actual move and not one of those juvenile tricks that he'd got away with earlier. With his head facing the TV, his hand found the drawstring of her sweatpants and he undid the bow with dexterous precision. Once the strings came loose, he slid his hand slowly through the opening, letting his fingers trail along the fabric and lightly brush against her inner thigh.

Y/N inhaled sharply, not daring to take her eyes off the screen, afraid that if she moved, he would disappear and she'd wake up in bed with a crick in her neck from such a wonderful dream. It seemed surreal. It seemed too good to be true.

His hand travelled further up the hem of her panties and dipped to touch the soft skin underneath; she closed her eyes, her heart beating faster as his forefinger started a gentle circling motion on her clit. Slowly. He was giving her a chance to stop him if she wanted to. But she didn't want to stop him. Oh God, not at all. If anything, she wanted Adrian to go even further.

So, in the hopes he'd get the memo, Y/N shifted her butt closer to the edge of the couch and moved her hips to ensure that he'd have access to do whatever he pleased. When he kept torturing her with his movements, she tilted her head to the side to look at him.

"Eyes on the screen."

Her gaze remained on the mask.

"Watch the movie."

Still, she hadn't moved.

"You deaf?" he teased, using his free hand to grab at her chin and yank it back towards the TV. He could feel her face growing warm at his touch, and that made his lips curl into a smile behind the mask. Her eyes were locked onto the screen, and his thumb stroked the underside of her bottom lip. "I said," he repeated slowly, as if to emphasise his point, "Are you deaf? Answer me."

"No! No. I... I can hear you perfectly." Her voice sounded breathy, strained and filled with excitement. His smile grew wider as he watched her. "Just, um... distracted."

She licked her suddenly dry lips, and a flash of light caught his eye. The glow coming from her phone illuminated the dark room. He took hold of the device in question.

"The boss wants to talk to you, you wanna talk to her?" She shook her head and tried to snatch the phone out of his hands but was unsuccessful. He chuckled softly as he accepted the call and held it against Y/N's ear.

"L/N, Peacemaker's mission was a success," Harcourt began, sounding relieved. "You are free of Vigilante watch for the night."

"Oh, okay. Good to know," Y/N replied with far too much poise for Adrian's liking, taking the phone out of his hand.

Without warning, he slid his fingers down to her entrance and pushed his middle finger into her core, making the poor girl gasp.

"You okay there, Y/N?" Harcourt asked in concern.

"Hrmm, yeah. Fine." Y/N cleared her throat, trying to compose herself. This was definitely NOT how she pictured her distraction to go.

How the turntables.

Harcourt was unconvinced, Y/N could tell. "If you say so..." There was some rustling as if the person behind the phone was in a mini scuffle, then Emilia added in a huff, "Hang on, Chris wants to say something."

Hearing his buddy's name, Adrian decided to get bolder and began fucking two fingers into her, curling them in an effort to create the most obscene noises he could possibly imagine. Y/N bit down hard onto her lower lip so she wouldn't let out the most pathetic whine ever known to mankind.

"H-hey Chris."

"Is Adrian still with you?"

"Yeah," she answered breathlessly, daring to look across at Adrian again.

"Tell him to buy a four pack and meet me at my trailer."

Underneath the mask, Adrian was a mess. Y/N was letting him fingerfuck her and Peacemaker wanted to hangout? It was such an awesome day. Although, given his current situation, he was a bit preoccupied to give in to Peacemaker wishes.

"I'm busy," Adrian replied curtly. "Tell him."

Y/N shakily nodded and did as he said. "Ade says he is busy. Can't hang out tonight. Sorry!" Then, she quickly hung up and let out all the noises she'd been holding back until now. Adrian chuckled darkly at the sight, his smirk widening when he noticed she'd gone red, flushed with passion, and was writhing around on the sofa, coming undone just because of his fingers. His. And it only spurred him on more.

"Either you take your clothes off, or I'll cut you out of them," he threatened, his smirk turning into an evil grin as he trailed his fingers up along her thighs. She squealed when he hit a particularly sensitive spot with his middle finger, arching her body slightly upwards. "Which one will it be?"

Doing a mental price check for everything she was wearing, Y/N came to a decision. She held up her forefinger, and he stopped, letting her undo the clasp of her bra, wiggling it out from under her shirt and tossing it somewhere on the ground.

"It was an expensive bra," she shrugged with a grin, "The rest of my clothes? They are far more disposable."

For the first time in a really long time, Adrian's hand was slightly shaky as he held the knife. Adrenaline, lust, and a fear that because he couldn't fit his glasses under the mask that he might accidentally hurt her, flowed through every inch of his being as he pushed her so she'd lie with her back against the couch cushions.

Slowly and in, what he hoped would be, a sensual manner, he dragged the blade down Y/N's chest and stomach, not enough to cut the fabric yet, but enough to make her breath stagger and tremble in anticipation. Y/N bit down hard upon her lower lip, her eyes wide open and pleading at him above her.

Adrian placed his knees on either side of her thighs, bracing himself with one arm, and he gently booped her nose with the tip of the knife. Her face scrunched up cutely, and a small giggle fell from her lips.

"Can't believe I didn't know you're such a dirty girl, L/N." He trailed the knife down her cheek and down her neck, enjoying the way it elicited moans from the woman underneath him. As he neared her collarbone, he glanced up. A mischievous glint in his eye as he finally put some force in movements to cut through her shirt, revealing her breasts in all their glory to him. Adrian stared at the sight like a starving man who had just spotted the last morsel of food on a plate.

Before he had the chance to do anything else, however, the familiar sound of someone unlocking his front door could be heard. Adrian quickly did up the first button of Y/N's cardigan, threw the knife onto the coffee table, and flopped down on her to hide any glimpse of skin from Peacemaker.

It obviously was Chris. Who else had a key? The dead Chase's?

"Vee, what the hell are you doing that is more important than hanging out with -" Chris stopped as he surveyed the scene in front of him. "What are you wearing, dude? Is that a dress?"

"It's a robe."

"What?"

Tugging the mask off to reveal his flushed, sweaty face, Adrian repeated, "A robe. A ghostface robe."

"You two are fucking weird," Chris commented as he leaned forward and plucked the mask from Adrian's hands to examine it further, and then proceeded to throw it over the back of a nearby armchair. "Well, this looks boring. I'd rather slow dance with Bill Cosby than spend time watching you two do... well, whatever that is." Then he gave Adrian one final once over and grinned. "Text me a rating out of ten if you hit that."

Y/N rolled her eyes at Chris's comment while Adrian simply glared daggers at his friend. This definitely was killing his game. Fuck, he didn't even have the mask on anymore. The illusion was broken. Would she even want to go forward with him as just Adrian?

"Peace out, assholes!"

As quickly as he'd arrived, Peacemaker had left them alone again. Adrian tried his best to avoid eye contact with Y/N, which was proving difficult as her eyes seemed glued to him. Shit. Here comes the inevitable repulsion.

"Ade?"

"Hmm...?"

"Hey," she cooed and gently tilted his chin so he would finally face her. "Do you want to stop? We don't have to if you don't want to."

He sighed. "I want to." And he did. He desperately, desperately wanted to continue, to continue and explore every inch of this beautiful woman beneath him. To taste her lips, to feel her softness, to feel her warmth. He wanted everything about this moment. "Do y-you want to?"

"I do." Y/N gave him a bright smile, a genuine one that reached her eyes, making Adrian feel like 'Yeah! This could happen!' so he shot to his feet and went to retrieve the mask. But, she caught his wrist and stopped him in his tracks. "I'd like to see you without that thing on. To see your handsome face. Is that okay?"

Dumbly, he nodded, still trying to wrap his head around what she was saying. Had he been hearing this right? She wanted to see his face? While they fucked? He hadn't fucked someone as Adrian in a really long time. Vigilante was the guy who did all that. The last time Adrian did this as himself was...probably the time he lost his virginity.

She got to her knees on the couch, her kneecaps resting by the edge of the arm of the sofa, to be tall enough to cradle his cheek in her palm and caress it softly. Adrian closed his eyes, savouring every sensation she provided him with. His heart felt as though it was beating double speed, his blood pumping furiously in his veins, his lungs burning for air.

What was happening? Why was he feeling so goddamn good? Did her touch affect him this much? How could it? He'd never experienced love before. Was this how other people felt? Were humans supposed to experience happiness like this? Was he supposed to feel like this, to be overwhelmed by emotions, to want things more often, to crave more and more?

"Was it warm under the mask?" she asked in a quiet, playful whisper.

"Always is."

That made her grin wider and he couldn't help but return it. Her thumb ran slowly over his bottom lip, brushing across the soft skin lightly, teasingly. Adrian let out a light, shaky sigh and opened his eyes.

"Can you kiss me? I'd kiss you, but I can't seem to get the nerve to," he pleaded softly, looking at her shyly, his eyes full of hope.

In spite of all his doubts, she let out a giggle and did as he asked. She cupped her hand around his jaw and started at the mole on his cheekbone, kissing her way down his cheek until she finally reached his lips. And there was no hesitation, not even a single thought, as he reciprocated the kiss, wrapping his arms around her waist firmly while her fingers threaded through his hair.

They parted after a moment, yet Y/N was quickly drawn back in when Adrian's large hand drifted to her ass and pulled her tighter to his body. He deepened the kiss, pressing his lips firmer against hers, his tongue thrusting into her mouth boldly, taking possession of every corner of it greedily.

The longer they kissed, the more intense their kisses became until their lips were swollen and puffy and red. But Adrian found that he didn't care at all. He had never felt so alive; so free. And he knew without a doubt that this was the only woman who could possibly make him feel like this.

"You gonna take your 'dress' off?" she teased, giggling as he nuzzled his face into her neck and bit at her shoulder in response to that comment. "Ouch!" She exclaimed and laughed, trying to push him away, but Adrian wouldn't allow it. He kept hold of her waist, refusing to let go as he pressed his lips to every inch of her neck and shoulders.

When he finally pulled his face away, Adrian could hardly keep himself standing upright as he tugged the ghostface robe over his head and tossed it aside. He'd learnt that it was insufferably hot under there one Halloween and didn't make the same mistake of wearing his t-shirt and jeans underneath again.

Standing there in just his underwear, he suddenly got a little self-conscious and held his hands over the very obvious bulge forming between his legs. Her eyes sparkled with mirth, and she chuckled at the adorable sight before reaching out to take his hands away from his groin and lead them to her hair.

"Keep my hair out of my face, will you?"

Once again, he nodded as if there wasn't a single thought in his head and never had been, and obliged, collecting her hair in a makeshift ponytail. Although, he almost lost all grip on it as soon as she leaned forward to plant a smooch on his clothed cock before pulling away.

"Can I pull your underwear down? They look awfully tight," she whispered huskily, her fingers playing with the waistband of his boxers.

"Uh... yes, yes please. If you want."

"I do want." With that she pulled the fabric down his thighs to reveal his naked, erect cock, waiting eagerly for her touch. "May I?"

"Please."

Gently, Y/N wrapped her hand around him and squeezed, causing him to emit a low groan. Her eyes flickered upwards, meeting his as her tongue darted out to lick the head of his cock. Her touch made him feel like he was falling apart at the seams, but he had to remind himself to remain calm. He needed to stay strong and not cum in two seconds because that's fucking lame.

She'd think he was such a loser if he did that.

Adrian's confidence built as she began running her mouth along his length. He moaned loudly as he gripped her hair in order to ground himself, feeling so dizzy that he thought it might be the alcohol for a brief second. Then her mouth was closing around him, and, yeah, it was definitely the blowjob that was making him lightheaded.

"Oh fuck," he grunted, clenching his teeth tightly so that he wouldn't moan any louder. It would be so embarrassing if she heard him like that!

Wait a minute. Y/N had often told him that she wanted to hear whatever he had to say. Did that extend to whatever noises he'd make too? She had been the one to offer what was happening. Soo... A groan was let loose from his lips to test the waters.

Around his cock, she moaned and took him deeper into her throat. He wasn't a scientist by any means, but that seemed like a clear example of cause and effect. So he repeated the sound, a little louder this time, eliciting another loud moan from her.

This revelation relaxed him about the whole thing. Before he'd been preoccupied with seeming totally normal, and now he could enjoy the fact that a pretty girl was sucking his dick and enjoying it too.

That was all the reason he needed to move his hips and start fucking her mouth faster and harder. His hands bunched up her hair and tangled themselves in it as he praised, "Fuck, you're great. You’re driving me insane, holy shit. I wanna bruise that throat so badly. Can I do that, baby? Please?" He begged desperately, unable to hide the desire in his voice.

"Yes," she breathed heavily, regaining some semblance of composure before she gave it over completely to him.

Soon, he was a babbling mess of words and lustful rants that sounded like, "Take it all… Ahhh… fuck… you’re so beautiful… You always are... on your knees… swallowing my cock down… I'm desperate… so fucking desperate… I need you so bad…" He continued to ramble incoherently, losing control over his thoughts and actions as he let his orgasm roll over him and explode inside her mouth.

He could feel his entire body shudder uncontrollably, his breath short, and his balls tightening up to a point where he was sure they might break. Her hands caressing up and down his thighs were the only thing grounding him and keeping him from toppling over.

Finally, he regained some sense of equilibrium and came to his senses. He looked at Y/N and found her smiling sweetly at him. He couldn't resist the urge to laugh and gently brush away the tears in the corners of her eyes with the pad of his thumbs.

"Sorry, uh, sorry if I was a bit rough. Didn't mean to," he stammered anxiously, embarrassed.

"I liked it."

"Really?"

"Mhm..."

From the TV, a gunshot rang out as Sidney, in her attempt to rescue a bound and gagged Gale and Dewey, fired at Ghostface, and Adrian couldn't help but turn to watch. "The unmasking is just about to happen, this is always my favourite part," he said excitedly and planted his ass back down on the couch, absentmindedly making grabby hands at her until she got the memo.

But before she sat, Y/N removed her clothes to remind him that, yeah, he had chosen to watch Scream 3 (the worst one) instead of continuing their intimate moment, and perched on his thighs, her back resting against his chest.

"Oh hi, hi there," he grinned sheepishly, wrapping an arm around her stomach to pull her closer against his chest and resting his chin on her shoulder. She rolled her eyes playfully and snuggled further into him.

It took no time at all for the skin on skin contact to rile him up once again. She felt his member twitch impatiently against her backside as he rubbed his nose against her neck and shoulder, letting out an involuntary growl as he inhaled sharply.

With very minimal efforts, Adrian pushed Y/N forward a few inches and positioned his cock against her opening, slowly pulling her back down on him. She gasped at the sudden invasion but she adjusted to the sensation.

Yet, he didn't move just yet. He returned his gaze to the screen and tried to pretend that he wasn't literally inside her, which was difficult considering how many dreams he'd had about this moment. He had dreamed of being inside Y/N countless times, but this moment seemed more than perfect. The warmth of her body wrapped snugly around him, the softness of her skin, her intoxicating smell surrounding him; everything about this scene was blissful.

Y/N was squirming and wriggling on top of him, apparently eager for more action. He smiled softly as he moved his hands up and down her waist, rubbing soothing circles against her sides and trying to keep her still so he didn't give in. It was a test of restraint, Adrian thought to himself. His restraint. That didn't mean she couldn't have fun.

Not even his willpower was enough to stop his hand from wandering back down to her clit. His movements were at a leisure pace, there mostly to rile her up rather than give her exactly what she wanted. He wanted her to beg him to give in, to drive her wild.

And then suddenly, the movie was over. Adrian had been looking at the movie, but he hadn't really been watching. Sure, he'd seen it a thousand times before. Roman's the killer. He's Sidney's half-brother. Yadda yadda ya. Sidney stabs him. Bye-bye, Roman. Hello, a proposal by Dewey. Then, the credits roll.

Just as he hoped, she turned to face him and gave him the widest, most beautifully pleading doe eyes she could muster. He swallowed hard, licking his dry lips as he stared deep into her gaze, completely mesmerised by the sight before him.

"You gonna fuck me?" Y/N whined softly, a sultry look on her face that only caused him to tighten his hold on her.

"Is that what you want?"

"Uh-huh."

"Gotta say it out loud."

"Please. I want it now. I need it now. Don't tease me anymore," she pouted, giving him a playful glare as she bit her lower lip. The way she looked at him made his heart race.

He knew it wouldn't take long for him to give in anyway.

"You need me to fuck you, huh, baby?" She nodded eagerly. "Oh, I'll fuck you real good, so good that you'll totally fall in love with me and never want me to leave. Like ever. I promise."

"That's a bold promise."

"I'm a bold guy."

Tonight, he'd been especially bold.

In one swift move, he hoisted her up and dropped her face down onto the pillow, positioning himself behind her. With his knee, he nudged her legs open a little wider and lined himself up with her entrance, but before he eased himself in, he declared, "This isn't going to be a one time thing. If we do this, if you give me this pussy, it's mine. It belongs to me.If we cross this line, you're mine, you realise that?"

A beat. He paused, waiting for her response.

"Yeah," she whispered, looking over her shoulder at him.

"Good answer."

His cock slid inside her, stretching and finding itself home inside of her. She welcomed him fully and let out a gasp. At first it was slow and deliberate. They were both adjusting to each other, getting used to the feeling of finally fucking each other after who knows how long of teasing.

Eventually, as time went on, Adrian's movements became faster, his strokes became heavier and more urgent, his rambling growing sloppier. "Atta girl, holy fuck. We could've been doing this the whole fucking time! Just think of all those nights I spent fantasising about this." He moaned out loud as the sensations began to build up in his gut. "Just think of all those nights I spent imagining you underneath me, panting and begging me to fuck you."

A low rumble escaped his throat as he started moving faster. "God, it feels good. You feel so good." His breathing was heavy, uneven, and laboured. "So tight... so warm... I can't get enough of you."

"Fuck, don't stop moving, please."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he muttered, leaning down and sucking a mark on her neck roughly. He moved up to her ear and whispered, "Do you like feeling my control over you? Tell me. Tell me you like it. Tell me you want my cum. Tell me you need me."

Y/N whimpered, her fingers digging into his shoulders. "Oh my god, yes! I like it. Love it. Want you. Want to come," she breathed out in between grunts and moans.

Adrian pinned her wrists behind back while kissing every inch of exposed flesh along her jawline, tracing the bone tongue and sucking harshly on her skin. She arched into him, her moans becoming louder, needy, and more intense. She was close. So fucking close. And he knew it was only a matter of moments before he would follow. He felt it in his gut. In his loins. In his bones.

"Fuck Adrian! Oh shit."

There it was.

"Oh god… holy fuck… you’re getting tighter… So close, baby. I'm so - Fuck! Can I cum inside you, please? … Fuck, please?" Adrian begged frantically, his voice higher than he'd ever heard before.

"Yes. Yes! Please, babe, please!"

Another couple of thrusts was all it took for him to fall apart, releasing into her with a strangled cry and gripping tightly onto her hips as he came undone. He buried his face in the back of her shoulder and went limp, falling into a sea of giggles and kisses as he held her close in his arms.

"Do you think Harcourt and Peacemaker fuck like rabbits when they're alone?" she asked, craning her neck as far as she could to meet his eyes.

"Definitely! They definitely do!"

He took a glimpse at the mess they made, committed that image to his wank bank, then removed himself from her, muttering, "Gonna get something to clean you up with. You want a drink, too? I'm parched. Yeah, I'll get us a towel and two drinks. Coming right up," as he hopped to his feet and got on with the tasks he set himself. He even added to the list to grab some clothes so she wouldn't get cold.

"For you, my lady," he grinned as he walked back in with the clothes and towels and two cans of Doctor Pepper, setting it all on the table. "Want me to...?"

"I can do it, if you don't! -"

"No, no, I can." He kissed the tip of her nose and got to work cleaning her off.

As he cleaned her up, he noticed the developing bruises on her hips and pressed his lips to them, mumbling against her skin, "Sorry...sorry, I got carried away," and stroking the small marks lightly with his finger.

It was sweet to watch.

"Didn't know you were so cute, Ade," she teased, reaching for a can and taking a sip.

"I'll show you cute." He jumped on top of her, omitting a loud battle cry as he fell, and was quick to press a trail of kisses all over her neck, leaving wet smears of saliva as he went. "I've got a proposition for you."

"Another one?"

Pulling back, he gave her an amused look and found her hand he could easily take hold of, giving it a firm squeeze as he said, "Let me take you out tomorrow? We'll watch four and five right now. I'll get you a huge popcorn and a drink and nachos and whatever you want when we see the new one. How does that sound?"

"A date, huh?"

"What? Do you not - do you not want to... to -"

She interrupted by roughly grabbing the back of his neck and yanking him into a smooch, sealing their lips together forcefully, her tongue plunging in deeply and swirling around his own hungrily. "Yes," she murmured in between the kiss, "I'll go on a date with you."

Now, it wasn't the coolest thing he'd ever done, but Adrian actually did a little dance of joy. He'd never done his famous butt dance horizontally before, and he'd certainly never done it whilst on top of someone, but it made him happy.

"Go put the next movie on, dork."

"On it!"

Obviously, he ran towards the TV to pop the next DVD and almost fell due to the speed at which he banged his knee on the side of the coffee table. That didn't matter.

The only thought that passed through his head was 'Thank fuck for Ghostface.'

This. THIS—!!!

That fic made me actually want to watch peacemaker and oops! I found a new pathetic man to thirst over ughhhhhh

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

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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.

I’m in love with this

Lazy day

Adrian Chase x Gender neutral reader

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Summary: Adrian finds something he didn’t know he liked

Warnings: Biting/hickeys, Some pet names, Overall just fluff with some spice

Word count: 500+ (I swear ill make something longer soon)

A/n: Currently Re-watching peacemaker and this man needs some loving frfr he’s too sweet. I love writing for him. Also making this in first person for a change 

“What are you doing honey?” Adrian hummed. I had crawled into his lap and lazed my head onto the side of his neck. He was so comfy. Way more comfy than the couch. His arms came and held me closer.

It has been forever since we had a break or a day off. No criminals (peacemaker was handling them just fine) and a day off from Fennel Fields. It’s been relaxing. I can barley think of the last time Adrian has had a break besides for lunch. Even at night sometime you could barley call it a break. You both would toss and turn. Restless

He was so damn ambitious to stop criminals he wouldn’t come home until late night or early morning sometimes.

I tried to do as much as I could but I can’t be out 24/7 stopping everyone.

It’s good to see him calm. It puts me at ease. He even looked relaxed. His glasses were crooked on his face, He was wearing sweat pants, (Finally something other than jeans and his hero pants) and he was wearing his cozy little dad sweater that hugged his body. We were both in that state where we weren’t asleep but didn’t feel quite awake.

“Just getting comfy.” I mumbled. His attention turned from the T.V and onto me. He looked in awe as if he couldn’t have a better partner than the one sitting in his lap right this second.

I made eye contact with him and smiled. I kissed his soft lips. One hand cupped his cheek and the other twirled his curls. Oh his curls are amazing things. I felt him smile into the kiss. I could never get used to this. It almost felt better and better every time he kissed me.

I slowly moved my lips to his neck. Lightly kissing him and sucking small marks into his skin. His neck lulled back giving me more space to kiss him. His neck was so insanely attractive for who god knows what reason.

If god is real I wanna personally thank him for his neck and ask him what I did to deserve a man like him. He’s so sweet and just perfect.

One day I did hope we would settle down. Get married, maybe have kids (if he wanted of course) and maybe we could be like a superhero family. Though I’d never want to have that risk of loosing people so close.

Adrian let out small sighs and his eyes fluttered closed. His hands pressed softly against my back.

“Hon.” He said softly.

“Yes Adrian?” I looked at his dazed state.

“Your so pretty you know that?” Adrian made sure to compliment me everyday at every possible chance he got. My stomach bounced. I chuckled slightly and went back to his neck.

I started to slightly nip at his neck. Then I lightly sunk my teeth into him. Not to hurt him or anything of course just to leave little marks. I felt him laugh slightly mixed with a groan.

“What?” I looked back up at him.

“Did you just bite me?” He smiled.

“Maybe…” He glanced at me. Took in all my features. Every bit of them. He sighed .

“Well I can’t be mad because you have such a pretty face. Me being mad would be a crime itself.” He flipped me over so now he was leaning over me.

His head dipped down to my neck. I felt his nose poke at my neck.

“My turn.” he whispered Into my ear.

Tags: @wolvesandvampires @vigilanteh

REALLLLLLL

My ancestors looking down at me as I talk about how much I love white men

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

Characters:  Adrian Chase/Vigilante x f!reader

CW:  Crude language; yearning.

Word Count:  3982

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

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

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

The Time Vigilante Definitely Does Not Feel Vulnerable

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To be vulnerable.

The Time Vigilante Definitely Does Not Feel Embarrassed

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She mentioned it last night!”

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

“She did!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Time Vigilante Definitely Does Not Feel Protective

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

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

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

Adrian freezes.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Time Vigilante Definitely Does Not Feel Fear

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

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

His attention is on you, now, too.  

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

Then he loses sight of you. 

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

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

One shot hits your shoulder, spins you around.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Time Vigilante Definitely Feels Love

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Absolutely.”

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

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

adrian chase head cannons

First post so that’s fun! But I just did stuff about him for this, but I’ll probably do one about relationship head cannon’s on a different post. Also send requests in my ask and I will most likely do it!

warnings/ drugs (literally just weed) and like three cuss word I think I don’t know. If there are any others that I missed let me know. 

Honestly, he would probably like weed if it was never illegal

Definitely likes older music (like 50s, 60s, 70s), but also loves pop music (I mean we all heard his ring tone)

I hc him as bi with a preference for women

Loves board games (I mean he loves D&D so)

Favourite board game is Clue or Candy Land

Would have pet fish, one in his room and one in the living area

Still, on the topic of pets, he would be a cat person I’m 100% sure of it

I mean he loves dogs he’s that type of person, but he seems like he would prefer to have a pet cat because they don’t need as much attention as dogs do 

And he patrols at night so he wouldn’t really want a high maintenance animal

His favourite film would probably be Megamind or some shit

All I know is he loves animated films

His favourite TV show would probably be Game of Thrones or some fantasy show like that

His geeky ass would love Star Trek

Or any sci-fi show or movie

Would prefer tea over coffee because there are better and more options

He’s a collector. Of what? That I can’t answer because I don’t know

Wait now that I think about it he probably has a knife collection

He likes to read when he has the time to

Probably a soft spot for those cheesy murder mystery novels (because me too)

Back to films he loves Ryan Reynolds and his favourite film from him is Deadpool

I only bring up Ryan Reynolds because I watched Deadpool today

HE LOVE LOVE LOVES LEGOS IM 100% RIGHT!!!

He has a Millennium Falcon lego

a/n: so that’s it I guess sorry if it’s kinda ass i just jotted down ideas, but I’ll definitely do one for relationship hc’s!! As said earlier do leave requests!

adrian chase fics come home i miss u

he kisses you and eats you out like he is a starved man i’m sure of it

need to stop staying up till 5:30 in the morning bc when it hits 4am i think these things

pls i know adrian chase is the hungriest, most passionate kisser

oh for fucking sure. like yeah he has the threesomes with chris, but the mask always stays on so he’s deprived of anything of that nature and when he gets the chance to do ANYTHING more he fucking takes it. i’m dead serious.

leave recs i swear i’ve read almost every adrian fic ever. (if you rec something please nothing with a non-con tag)

I’m gonna have a stroke this is so good

Hot Venom (Adrian Chase/Vigilante x fem!reader)

Rated: Mature, Explicit 18+

Word Count: 8.2k oh my god I am sorry 

Warnings: smut, explicit language, mentions of blood/injury, stitches, mentions of violence, vaginal fingering, oral (female & male receiving), overstimulations, multiple orgasms, unprotected vaginal sex (dont be a dick, wrap that stick), brief titty fuckin (lmk if I missed anything please!!)

You hate Vigilante. 

At least—that’s what you tell yourself and everyone else.

It’s easy enough. You’re not a normally personable person anyhow and so the biting responses and quips blend with the act.  

It’s unfortunate how well you work with him—so much so that it’s nearly impossible to shake him from your side. Fuck—even Chris commented on it. 

Avoid, avoid, avoid. It’s all you can do.  

Sadly, there comes a time, following the rather rough mission, that you are abandoned before all your problems and mixed anxieties. A cruel punishment the universe has bestowed upon you—

“Wan’t a ride home?” 

Keep reading

This is a fucking work of art omfg

hotel room service

MY MASTERLIST

pairing(s): adrian chase x afab!reader

summary: An off night, a hotel room, a bottle of peach Jim Beam, and Vigilante. What could go wrong?

words: so many (9.8k)

tags: explicit (18+ MINORS DNI), smut, some dubcon elements, shower sex, praise kink, sub!adrian, technically switch!adrian but *gestures vaguely*, alcohol consumption, drunk sex, oral (f receiving), slight blood kink, mentions of contraception, cowgirl position, gagging, friends to lovers, character study disguised as smut, james gunn said the visor is prescription and i take that as canon, reader uses prescription lenses, yes i did name this after the pitbull song

additional notes: i had too much fun writing this, which is probably why it was over 20 pages long lol. apologies to anyone who doesn't experience being drunk the same way I do because I write from my own experiences

taglist blog: @rosemareblogs

“Working hours” with this black ops group are loosely defined at best, and entirely nonexistent at worst. And don’t even get started on pay, because you think at this point that you’re only getting comped whatever the pay is for your cost of living, and that’s only really when you’re on the clock. They’ll pay for the hotel room and sometimes the food, but besides that, you’re on your own.

But, back to those working hours. You don’t know when they stopped, but maybe it was around the time your roomie decided to crack open a bottle of whisky and pour out half of it for you into one of the plastic solo cups they provide with the coffee pot. God knows you’re not working anymore, you’re just sort of sitting idle while he rambles about the room, gesticulating with the bottle. Like he does.

(Plus, you don’t think he’s even being paid for this? Adrian is just here for the fun and because he’s available, and the rest of the team just let him tag along because he’s useful. The thought makes you smirk a little bit.)

You admire his profile as he talks, one finger pressed to your smiling lips as your eyes trail him back and forth, thinking he might eventually hypnotize you. He’s so… expressive. And he has dimples and curly hair, which you’ve always been a sucker for. He hasn’t even taken off his suit; blue on silver on black, with a red visor on the mask discarded on the table. You had watched him remove it, and carefully tried to hide the fact that you were staring as he pulled his wire-rimmed glasses out of a hidden pocket.

You’re very pointedly staring now, sizing him up like your next fucking meal (alcohol does that to you), and Adrian keeps on blathering in one long spiel, pacing in circles like hasn’t even noticed your hungry gaze (alcohol does that to him).

“Is that prescription?” you ask, cutting him off in the middle of his sentence, which you’d barely been paying attention to. Something something Twilight, something something cultural reset.

Adrian stops pacing, looking at you with a deer-in-headlights expression. “Huh?”

You nod at the mask laying on the table by the door. “The visor. Is it prescription?”

He swivels to look at the mask, and then back to you with an almost bashful laugh. “Uh… yeah?”

“That’s sick.”

“Really?” Dimples. You take another sip of your whisky to calm yourself, and it burns at the back of your throat. Objectively, you should not be feeling this way about your pseudo-coworker, who also happens to be somewhat of a lunatic. But, y’know, he’s… sweet. To you. Which is the odd thing, but you’ve gone beyond worrying about the details at this point. You’re hunting alien butterfly creatures that live in people’s brains, you can get past a couple character flaws.

“I mean, yeah.” You lick your lips, which have taken on the flavor of the peach liqueur in the whisky. “I wear prescription lenses, too, but they’re a bitch to keep clean on the job. If I could afford prescription hardware, I would. Good on you.”

“Yeah, I mean… yeah, it is fucking cool, thank you!” He grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners and making you clench your jaw with how badly you want to reach out and kiss him long and hard at that exact moment. “I was starting to think no one else would notice how genius it is. Y’know, I don’t even think Peacemaker’s noticed, which is totally not very best friend-like of him, but it’s fine, I’m sure he’ll come around eventually, the guy constantly has a lot of shit on his plate. Like I remember one time, me and him got stuck in a Winnebago that was rolling downhill toward a cliff like something out of Looney Tunes because some idiot crack dealer locked us in there with his load, and-”

He’s pacing again, and the amber colored liquid in the square bottle he grips by the neck sloshes against the glass as he continues waving it around emphatically. And you’ve zoned out again, because now you’re thinking about his hands, and how nice they’d feel on your body. You’ve seen him beat the shit out of people, you know he’s packing some major force in those fists, but you haven’t felt them on your own skin, or had the experience of having them wrapped around your throat for yourself.

“-then, y’know, Eagly’s a fucking badass, I don’t know if you’ve seen him in action, but the little dude can take a guy out in like one peck. Like do not get caught on the wrong end of those talons is all I’m saying. Anyways, he swooped in and yanked the fucking wheel, so the Winnebago flipped. I mean, can you imagine! A bald eagle rolling a camper. That shit’s gotta be, like, legendary-”

And his quads as he walks, Jesus Christ. You’ve never been super partial to burly, buff guys (sorry Chris), but there’s something to be said for muscle in the right places. Adrian’s legs are nice, you can tell just by the way the fabric of his pants stretches around them when he turns, and fuck his ass is so tight. You nearly salivate just staring at it, thinking about how much you’d love to dig your heels into it, or squeeze it to urge him on as he fucks you.

Your eyes snap down to your solo cup of whisky, and you frown. When did you drink half of it?

“-but like I’m sure you know Eagly pretty well because he loves you, I can tell. He kind of scooches closer every time you sit near him, it’s really cute actually, I mean, I would scooch closer whenever you sat near me too except I feel like you’d punch me in the dick, good thing my suit’s got a reinforced crotch-”

“Wait, what?” You blink up at him, your brain sort of fizzling out and then rebooting as you stare at him. What did he say?

Adrian doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, the guy who made it was like, ‘That makes no sense, you’re gonna have the worst time trying to take a piss in this,’ and I said, ‘No, dude, have you ever been karate kicked in the nuts before? Shit hurts.’ I still had to pay extra-”

“No, no, what was that shit about scooching closer? To me?” You squint at him. “Babe, are you trying to tell me something?”

He blushes. You know he’s joked about not feeling emotions like other people do, but you wonder how true that really is, because he goes beet fucking red like he’s having trouble breathing as he stares down at his shoes. “I, uh- well, I mean, yeah, I’d scooch closer to you. Theoretically. If- if you wanted me to. And if you weren’t going to punch me in the dick.”

“Why would I punch you in the dick?”

“I don’t know, it’s like… it’s an understandable reaction to someone getting in someone else’s personal space!”

“No, it really isn’t…”

“Well, how was I supposed to know you wouldn’t punch me in the dick?”

You throw up your hand in an exasperated gesture. “When have you ever seen me punch someone in the dick?”

He screws up his face. “UM, I don’t know, you punched Peacemaker in the dick!”

“What? When?”

“When he tried lifting you onto the truck that one time!”

“That was a misunderstanding, I kneed him because he didn’t give me a heads up!”

“But you did it!”

“Well, the last thing I would want to do to your dick is punch it, all right?”

You both stop and stare at each other for a long moment. You think you might have stopped breathing, too. Yeah, you are definitely tipsy at this point, but you raise a slightly shaking hand to take a casual sip of your drink, as if you aren’t staring at him with bulging eyes like you’re possessed.

He opens his mouth and closes it a few times before he comes out with a response. “Okay.”

You blink. “Okay?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, okay. I mean, what other stuff would you do to my dick?”

“Uh… stuff.” You jerkily stand, nearly sloshing your drink as you try to get your bearings. You set the cup down on the bedside table and turn to look at him with the most awkward, pin-straight posture you could possibly muster, like a high schooler trying to pretend they aren’t drunk in front of their parents. “I’m going to take a shower now. Yeah. I am. I’m going to do that.”

“Oh. Okay.” Adrian looks down at the bottle in his hand, and then shuffles a bit to the side so that you can pass him.

“I mean, unless you wanted to shower first?” You pause at the end of your respective bed, and turn to see him turning down the covers on his own by the window. “What are you doing?”

“I’m getting in bed,” he says flatly, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He reaches up and undoes a latch on his armor that frees the chestplate, and lifts it over his head in one swift move, leaving him in his tight fitting black undershirt.

You stare at him, scatterbrained until you manage to scowl at him, and the two knives he wears crossed against his lower back. “You’re going to sleep with all your weapons?”

“Yeah.”

“With all the dirt and sweat and fucking blood from fighting?”

“Yeah.”

“You can’t just… you can’t just get in bed with your outside clothes on, dude!” you splutter, leaning your thigh against the end of the mattress before you, and slow your speech carefully as you declare, “It’s… unsanitary.”

“Oh, and who are you, the sleep police?” Adrian turns to sneer at you. “I thought you were going to take a shower.”

“Well I was, but that was before I knew you weren’t planning on it!” You throw your hand out at him. “Why?”

“Because! If I go to sleep with wet hair it dries all weird, okay? Get off my dick!”

“I’m sure you’ll look just as pretty regardless, Adrian,” you tut condescendingly at him, rolling your eyes as you turn on your heels toward the bathroom. “Do what you want, or fucking join me if you change your mind, I don’t care.”

You don’t register the full weight of your words until you turn on the tap. But, by that time, you also don’t get to see the way Adrian stares at the door to the bathroom like you’ve just presented him with the key to the city.

You very rarely opt for lukewarm showers, but you certainly do now. With the way your blood is humming through your veins like electricity, and you feel hot just from the sight of Adrian’s muscles in that tight fucking shirt, you feel a cold shower is in order. Well, colder, anyways.

The water pressure is complete bullshit, of course. It pathetically trickles out, and it takes longer than usual for your body to get completely soaked. In that time, you lean against the tile and hold your head in your hands as the water drips down your face. How the fuck are you supposed to sleep in the same room as this guy? Between the way you’re just aching to jump his bones, and his inability to stop talking, you don’t think it’s a possibility tonight.

You wonder what he would sound like when you ride him. You wonder if he would finally shut up, or if he would switch to talking to you like a lover instead of a drinking buddy. You wonder if he would beg, or if he’s more dominant than that.

You’re imagining his head between your thighs. You’re imagining what he’d look like with your hands tangled in his hair. You’re imagining the feeling of his mouth on your skin, the calloused planes of his palms on your breasts and beneath your thighs. You’re… you’re shaking.

The white shower curtain rips open, and Adrian steps in beside you, naked as the day he was born. “Hey, can you pass the soap?”

“What the fuck?” You turn your head to look at him with a bewildered expression, simply refusing to tear your eyes away from his face because you do not want to cross that line and have the image of his dick imprinted in your brain while you try to get to sleep tonight. “Adrian, what are you doing?”

“Well, you said to join you if I changed my mind.” He shrugs, his smile the absolute picture of innocence, but his eyes still rake slowly down your body before finding your face again.

You blink, searching for a proper response to that. His eyes are green. Jesus Christ, that’s three for three: dimples, curly hair, and green eyes. He’s trying to kill you.

“I was being sar-” you cut yourself off with a sigh, “yeah, you know what, I did say that. Shit. Fucking… okay. Whatever. Here.” You fumble with the tiny complimentary body wash tube and thrust it toward him. “Go apeshit.”

“You have a really great ass by the way.”

“Adrian.”

“What? You do. I’m just being honest. I’m not even saying that because this is the first time I’ve seen you naked, I always thought your ass was nice, there just wasn’t a good time to say it.”

Your face is burning. You turn your back on him and try your hardest not to clap your hands over your eyes or do something equally embarrassing. You don’t think Adrian is even fazed by any of this; he wasn’t wearing his glasses, either, and you don’t know how strong his prescription is. You imagine pretty strong, if he needs it in his visor. Maybe there’s a good chance he can’t see the exact details of your tits. Maybe-

He touches your shoulder, and you feel lather running down your back as he starts massaging circles into your skin.

“Are you washing me?” you wheeze, your voice coming out an octave higher, and you really do cover your face again this time. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, and you can’t focus on anything other than the touch of his hand on your shoulder blade.

“Uh, yeah? I wash your back, you wash mine, right?” He sounds cheery and completely content with everything that’s happening and, despite the sheer oddness of all of it, you don’t really want him to stop. You guess that’s why you haven’t told him to get the hell out, yet.

Maybe you’re just as much of a lunatic as him. “‘Scratch,’ Adrian. It’s fucking ‘scratch.’”

He pauses. “What?”

“It’s ‘I scratch your back, you scratch mine.’”

“That makes no fucking sense.” He shakes his head in your periphery, his hand resuming its circular motion against your back, moving across to your other shoulder. You feel the soft, wet glide like a molten lava trail.

“Of course it makes sense! Why would it be ‘wash?’”

“Why wouldn’t it be ‘wash?’”

“Because it’s about doing your friends favors,” you argue in a wobbly, strained voice as you shiver while his fingers slide down your spine. It raises goosebumps on your skin, despite the heat in your veins and the cool of the water. “Friends don’t wash each other’s backs, genius.”

“So, we’re not friends?”

His hand pauses again just at the curve of your lower back, where it extends down into your tailbone. You bite your lip, and you can feel his eyes on you, the touch of his gaze almost as real as his hand is. Your thighs clench together involuntarily. You simpering little… weak, desperate thing, you are not going to beg for him to touch you. That’s not it. That’s not how this should go.

But, you could turn around and touch him, too. You could probably kiss him, if you were feeling really adventurous. He just basically implied that he wouldn’t be opposed to fucking you, right? That was where the conversation had been going earlier, if you hadn’t been such a pussy. Neither of you is nearly as subtle as you think you are.

You manage to chew your lip enough to tear a gash in it, and salty, coppery blood hits your tongue. You’re losing it, standing on the precipice of something way bigger than the two of you. You’re just an inch away from becoming more than just friends with Adrian, if you don’t reel it in quickly. Your hand comes up to slam against the wall when his fingers, which seem to be discontented to remain idle, start tracing little shapes on your lower back. A star. A diamond. A heart.

“N… No, I- I mean, we are. But I don’t think we’re going to be, if you keep it up.”

He grunts carelessly. “I’m having a hard time not keeping it up, really.”

“What do you mean?” You turn around, and his hand glides across your lower back and to your hip, because he refuses to stop touching you now (not that you want him to stop, either, if you’re being honest with yourself). Your eyes flick down, and you know exactly what he means, because he’s hard as a rock.

And also thick, and long, and veiny, but hey. What did you expect?

Your eyes linger on his erection for a long time, and drag your gaze slowly from the burst of dark hair at the base of his cock, up the line of his torso and to his chest. His pale skin is riddled with little scars here and there, from small injuries that weren’t serious enough to slow him down. He has a faint spray of freckles on his shoulders, suggesting that he spends at least some time in the sun. It makes you inordinately flustered to think of him doing some sort of outdoor activities to get that toned body of his.

You clear your throat as you find his gaze again. “Next dumb question,” you say, and he gives you a wide-eyed, vaguely awestruck look that makes you way more confident than it ought to. “Are you gonna fuck me, Adrian?”

His eyelashes flutter. His cheeks are painted with that sweet pink blush again, like he’s been entirely oblivious to the fact that he’s had you melting for him since he cracked open the bottle of Jim Beam. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“I think it’s a fucking fantastic idea, do you?”

“Yeah, I do.” And he grabs you by the face to kiss you, and crowds you back against the wall. You give a surprised yelp into his open mouth, your arms coming up to wrap around his neck as your back hits the cold tile. He grunts and brushes his soap covered fingers across your cheeks. “Did you bite your lip?”

“Yeah.”

“...Was that because of me?”

You whimper weakly as he slowly, and very purposefully, traces the length of your bottom lip with his tongue like he’s savoring the taste of your blood. “Yeah.”

“That’s so fucking hot.”

He yanks you up off of your feet, making you squeak and hold in a nervous laugh. Your leg bumps the faucet handle, and the water turns ice cold just as Adrian scrambles to hook your legs around his waist.

“Shit.” Adrian hisses and smacks the wall beside your hip once or twice before he finds the faucet, because he doesn’t stop kissing you. He’s sloppy and rushed and overexcited, but at least he gets the water running warm against as he presses you up against the wall. “I’ve never done this here, have you?”

“Shower sex? No.” You bite his lip as he hitches you up by the back of your thighs, and he groans as his hips jerk up toward yours. “But I think you’re doing a good job.”

“Wait, fuck. Do we need, like, a condom…?” He blinks at you with a glassy look in his eyes.

“IUD. I have- it’s all good, you’re fine.” You knock your head back against the wall with a whimper high in your throat as he brushes his cock against your entrance. You can feel the world spinning as you tangle your fingers in his wet hair, giving it a small but sharp tug. “Now, if you don’t fuck me I’m gonna-”

You choke when he drives the full length of his cock into you, pushing your hips back against the wall. Your nails scratch down his neck and across his shoulder blades as he splits you open, your legs tightening around his waist while simultaneously trying to spread wider to accommodate him. Adrian spits a curse into your neck, his teeth grazing a vein there as he ruts up into you, filling you so completely that a cry dies in your throat.

“God, fuck, Adrian,” you sob toward the ceiling, only too aware of him moaning loudly against your skin. He feels better than you had imagined, stretching you out so perfectly that your toes curl as you try your hardest to draw him forward with your legs alone.

“I knew you’d be perfect,” you catch him whispering into the crook of your neck, just barely audible over the trickle of water over your head.

He doesn’t even give you time to adjust before he starts pistoning his hips into yours, jolting you up the wall. Your skin squeaks against the wet tile, and his grunts echo in the curve of your neck. Tears might actually be streaming down your face, but you wouldn’t be able to tell them apart from the warm water coming from the showerhead.

Adrian’s hand comes up to brace against the wall beside your head, and he surprises you. “You really think I’m pretty?” He asks with such a genuine note of hope in his voice that you think he must be serious.

“I think you’re fucking gorgeous,” you breathe, whining when he nips at your jaw with his teeth. You interrupt your train of thought with a series of hoarse cries, because Adrian picks up the pace with less precision, and more just forceful thrusts that drive all the way to the end of you and make you see stars, regardless.

“You’re the most perfect person in the world and I wish I could paint because the only thing I’d be painting is just you over and over and over-”

He’s blathering into your shoulder, his mouth brushing your skin as it moves and his hips slamming yours back against the wall hard enough that you’re definitely going to be feeling it in the morning. Every bit of desire you have for him surges up inside you like an inferno catching on, like every stroke he makes is stoking that fire within you.

“-so pretty everyone wants you I can’t believe you would let me touch you or even kiss you but you’re letting me do this to you and it’s all I’ve wanted to do since I first saw you-”

It occurs to you to tell him that you’d let him do anything he wants to you at this point, as long as he just doesn’t stop fucking you- but that’s yet another line you refuse to cross for the sake of self preservation. You’re already drunk, and confessing the true scope of your feelings to him in this state would just be a recipe for disaster.

Oh god, but he’s like a reckoning. You shake your head to compose yourself and scratch your nails along his neck before you take his face in your hands and draw him up to you. His pupils were already blown out, but you think they nearly eclipse his irises when his hips falter and he sucks in a sharp breath. His dark hair is thoroughly drenched, and water drips down his face in little rivulets that you trace with your fingers just before you draw him to your lips.

You feel his small moan vibrate on your lips, and that’s enough. Your legs spasm, and your orgasm suddenly snaps within you like a rubber band, every muscle in your core tightening down on his cock as you see a burst of white behind your closed eyelids. It snuck up on you just as much as it did him.

“Holy fuck-” Adrian loudly gasps against your lips with a startled jolt of his hips, his full weight crushing you up against the wall. His nose nuzzles yours, so intimate in a way that you hadn’t expected from him, and with a few shuddering huffs of breath you feel him come with a rush of warmth deep inside you.

You’re floating somewhere above awareness when he slouches forward, his forehead resting against yours and his eyes closed as he takes deep, steadying breaths. It takes you a moment to realize that he’s just holding you, with his fingers digging into your thighs like he’s just trying to ground himself in your body.

You raise a shaking hand to smooth his wet hair back from his face. “Earth to Adrian. You still with me, babe?”

He grumbles something entirely non-coherent directly in front of your face, and blinks his eyes groggily open at you.

“The alcohol’s catching up with you, huh?”

He nods.

“Guess I’m washing your back, anyways. C’mon.” You wiggle out of his grip, and you’re only too thankful that you’re smushed up against the shower wall, or else you may have easily slipped and ate shit on the tile. The alcohol is fucking with your head quite a bit now, too, and your movements are a little jerky and uncoordinated as you try to help him get cleaned up.

He’s uncharacteristically quiet. The rest of the shower takes place in complete silence, actually, with the exception of the little grunt he makes when you urge him to bend down so you can get his hair for him. You catch him looking a little dazed as you turn off the water, and he gives you an unfocused stare when you toss a towel at him. You wonder if you actually succeeded in frying the guy’s brains just by fucking him.

But then, back in the room as you clumsily dig through your bag to pull out a night shirt and a pair of underwear, Adrian shuffles directly to his bed and tosses his towel aside before clambouring into it, bare ass to the wind. He flops down face first, and shoves his feet under the turned down comforter.

“Adrian… what are you doing?” You say for what feels like the millionth time this evening.

“‘M going to bed,” he drawls into the pillow. His entire body shakes as he hiccups, and then turns his head to the side to look up at you with his big green doe-eyes that make your heart do a somersault in your ribcage. “You should tooootally join me. There’s-” hiccup- “lotsa room. We could go again.”

You blink at him as you semi-stagger, semi-walk toward the bed, stooping to pick up pieces of his uniform strewn across the floor as he had, presumably, just ripped everything off as he made his way to the bathroom. “Mm, no, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Uh, you said it was a great idea,” he argues as you toss his clothes into a pile at the end of the bed.

“That was before the whisky kicked in and we were both staggering… fuckin… drunk-” you accidentally whack your foot against the corner of the bed and bite your lip as you fight not to crumble to the floor. “One of us has to be responsible.”

“I’m-” hiccup- “responstable.”

“Uh-huh.” You stop as your eyes land on the mostly empty Jim Beam bottle on the bedside table. You’re almost positive it had been at least quarter full when you left him to go take a shower. “Adrian, did you drink all that?”

He blinks his eyes open and follows your pointing finger to the bottle. “Oh, yeah. Hhhuuuhh… had to… I lost the cap so we can’t keep it.” When you march forward to snatch it off the table, he grunts dismissively. “Gotta… get rid of it.”

“Guess that’s why you’re worse off than me.” You shake your head and drop the entire bottle into the trash bin. “Aren’t you gonna put something on to sleep in?”

“I don’t have anything.”

You snap your head towards his sprawling, naked form. Your eyes linger on his ass for way too long. “You didn’t bring a single thing to wear?”

“Why… why would I bring a change of clothes to kill bad guys?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know! Anonymity!”

He grumbles into the pillow, “I have a mask.”

“Fuck the mask. You can’t sleep in the mask.”

“Sure I can. I fuck in the mask, I can sleep in it. S’a free country.”

You blink, your eyes flicking between Adrian and the mask on the table. “Dude, you fuck in that thing?”

“Hell yeah I do. I could fuck you in the mask. Could do it right now. Go get the mask.” Despite the conviction of his words, he’s slurring them, and his face is still pressed into his pillow as he lies motionless on the bed.

“I… don’t think that’s gonna happen tonight.” You sigh as you toe forward and grab the end of his comforter, drawing it up over his body. “We’re both way too drunk. We probably… probably shouldn’t have…”

Adrian flops over to look up at you as you, essentially, tuck him in. There’s a note of hurt in his voice when he mumbles, “You regret it?”

You pause, staring down at his expression of confusion and betrayal. Do you regret it? You can’t deny that you hadn’t been hesitant to have sex with him for a litany of reasons- one being that you work with him, and another being that he’s a loose cannon on the best of days. Not exactly relationship material, you think.

Or, you thought, but now he’s gazing up at you with these wide, dumbfounded eyes, and you’re tucking the comforter up beneath his chin, and he turns his face down and kisses your knuckle even though he looks mildly hurt. And yes, you liked the sex very much. You liked it so much that you can’t trust yourself not to do it again if you don’t shuffle off to your own bed immediately.

“No,” you tell him firmly, combing your fingers through his wet hair as you draw back. “I don’t regret it, but I think we both need to sleep this off.”

“Okay,” Adrian says quietly, his expression relaxing, but his arms come out from under the comforter and he reaches for you with grabby-hands. “Sleep with me?”

You catch one of his hands and give it a gentle squeeze. “G’night, Adrian.”

You hear him sigh in disappointment when you shut off the bedside lamp. His hands audibly plop down onto the mattress as he rasps, “Night.”

You wake from a dreamless sleep sometime in the early hours of the morning, and your throat is bone dry. Smacking at the nightstand a couple times, your phone manages to illuminate and tell you that the time is only 1:30.

You blink sleep away from your eyes and try to see through the dark as you stumble into the combination vanity, closet, and kitchenette. You knew you brought a water bottle or two, it can’t be that hard to find-

“Hey, what’cha doing?”

You hardly even startle at this point. You’re slowly becoming acclimated to the idea that Adrian is just constantly awake and witness to your every move, which isn’t as disconcerting to you as one might think. “I’m looking for the water. Did you see where I put it?”

“Uhhhhh mini-fridge?”

You reach blindly under the counter and yank the little fridge open, once again smacking around until your hand lands on the shape of a water bottle. “You want some?”

“Yeah, you could spit it into my open mouth-”

“Adrian.”

“What? It would be fucking sexy.” Adrian grunts, and the light clicks on from the main room. Then, he wolf-whistles just before you straighten up from where he’d caught you, bent over in front of the fridge. “Y’know, I was right. You have a really great ass.”

You grumble a half-hearted thanks under your breath as you approach his bedside and thrust a water bottle at him. “I see you’ve sobered up a bit.”

He waves a hand at you dismissively. “Pshh, I wasn’t that drunk.”

“You were drooling all over your pillow.”

“Maybe I always do that.”

“Yeah, okay.” There’s a long pause, wherein you perch on the edge of your mattress and chug an obscene amount of water. Adrian watches your throat work until he, too, succumbs and lifts his bottle to his lips.

An uncomfortably heavy silence settles between you two, only permeated by the quiet sipping of water and the cheap motel AC unit kicking in. It’s entirely unlike him to be silent and still for more than a couple of seconds, but he’s just sitting there looking despondent and running a hand back and forth over the white comforter, periodically lifting his bottle to take another drink. He doesn’t even really look tired, and you wonder if he ever got to sleep in the first place.

You know that the tension in the air is so thick because you have yet to address the giant fucking elephant in the room; and to address it is to have the most awkward and intimate conversation you can possibly imagine with Adrian, of all people. As much as you love his sense of humor, the idea of baring your soul to him is almost enough to have you running into the bathroom again, and locking the damn door this time.

But, in true Adrian fashion (because damn it all to hell if he ever lets something be), he beats you to the punch. “So, are you? Sober now, I mean.”

You chew your lip again, and reopen the gash you’d put there before. “Yeah. I am.”

He nods, pursing his lips as he looks down at his lap. He was right, his hair does dry… well, not weird, but just rather unruly if he goes to bed with it wet. Dark curls stick up at odd angles, a cowlick on the back of his crown standing straight up and begging you to come over and smooth it down. More curls fall across his forehead and nearly touch the top of his glasses. He blinks slowly, and severe shadows from his lashes cross his face in the golden light of the bedside lamp. You snap your gaze away, cheeks the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end.

“So… was that a lie? About just needing to sober up?”

Your thumbs twitch on your bottle. To tell the truth, or to lie? You feel like your mouth just stays dry, no matter how much water you drink. “Look, Adrian, I-”

“Also, I have, like, no pride and a ridiculously thick skull, or- or whatever Peacemaker calls it. So, you don’t have to beat around the bush or anything for my sake, you probably won’t even hurt me-”

“Adrian, I like you too fucking much, don’t you get it?”

That fully shuts him up, and he locks his jaw as he fixes you with a startled look. You suck your bottom lip through your teeth, perturbed at the taste of blood still apparent on it, and dig your heels into the carpet.

“The last thing I want to do is hurt you. You’re… one of my closest friends, all right? But I’m afraid that if we keep going like this, I’m not going to want to be friends anymore. And I think I’ll fall in love with you really quickly, and that might be a really bad idea for both of us. You just…” You shake your head, your voice dipping in volume as you stare bashfully down at your feet, “you have no clue how much I want you all the time, baby.”

“Why would it be a bad idea?” he asks you plainly.

“What?” You pick your eyes up off the floor to squint at him, finding him staring at you challengingly, a flush already on his cheeks.

“I mean, honestly. Name a single reason why it would be a bad idea. Bet’cha can’t.” Adrian throws his empty water bottle across the room, and it makes a gentle tap against the side of the television before skittering to the floor. “I think we’d fuck like rabbits and then I’d wake up every morning and make you pancakes, because I’m really fucking good at those, but you’d have to make the eggs because I always burn them. And I think we’d kick ass together as a cool superhero power couple, and I’d carry your gun for you if you got tired, and I could show you where all my hidden knives are. And you could also do anything you wanted to me, like any time, and I’d be totally fine with it and probably also turned on by it, as long as you call me baby like you just did.”

“Are you serious?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m super hard right now. Probably should’ve warned you, I have a thing about that-”

“No, smartass, I mean are you serious about the other stuff?” You tilt your head at him. “I never really took you for the domestic sort.”

“Tsch- yeah! I’m, like, super domestic. I’m like one of those domestic...ated... cats?” He trails off as you step forward and crawl onto his bed, up his legs to straddle his lap.

“Cats?” you repeat with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m… I…” Adrian’s eyes flick across your face, down to your shirt and bare thighs on either side of his, your knees pressing the comforter taut across his lap and (very prominent) erection. “I don’t know, I have trouble thinking when you’re on top of me-”

Nodding, you reach forward and take his glasses by the wire earpieces, and pull them from his face. He goes stock still, his lips parted in awe as you slide them onto your own face, and give him a sweet smile. “I like your glasses. They look good on you.”

“They look good on you.” His voice cracks. “Can you see in them?”

You blink at him, and then turn your head to look across the room. “A lot better than I thought I would. I think our prescriptions are similar.”

“That means you can also wear my mask.”

You look back at him, and find that he has his million-mile stare on, like he’s completely lost in thought. You smirk. “Do you want me to wear the mask?”

He blinks, and it’s like you’ve flipped a switch and turned his focus back on. “Uh… no. I mean, yes. Maybe later. I want to look at you.” His eyelashes flutter so fast you think he might take flight for a second. “You’re so fucking beautiful I could stare at you all day.”

“You can touch me, too. Don’t be shy.”

He practically vibrates with anticipation as his palms glide up your thighs, hot and big and just a bit rough. His eyes are everywhere at once; your lips, your eyes, your chest, your thighs, where your hips disappear under your oversized shirt. His fingers catch the hem, and he curls it between them.

“You should totally get naked, too. It’s super unfair that I’m the only one naked right now,” he says breathlessly, nodding the whole time like he’s trying to convince himself as much as you.

“So, do it.” You shrug, trailing a finger up his chest. “Take it off, baby.”

Adrian fists the hem of your shirt and rips it in half up the middle with a loud tear. You gasp, shivering as the garment falls from your shoulders and leaves you in just your panties. “Adrian!”

His eyes are trained on your tits. “What? It’s not like you need it tonight, anyways, and tomorrow we’ll be home…”

“What if that was my only shirt?” you retort.

He looks up at you. “Was it?”

“Well, no-”

“Then there’s your answer. Now, can I go down on you? Because I’ve wanted to for a really long time and I think it’s super hot that you’re wearing my glasses so it’s like I’m watching myself eat your pussy.”

He has such a hopeful expression on his face that you have to hold in a manic string of laughter as you nod at him. “Yeah, sure. Are you going to tear up my underwear, too?”

“No, I wanna keep those.”

“That makes perfect sense.” You shake your head before you kiss him deeply, and his tongue dips into your mouth as he rolls over with you, briefly getting tangled in the sheets before he roughly kicks them off.

You run your fingers through his hair, snickering as he climbs between your legs and his hands deftly tug your panties down your legs. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Depends on how incriminating it is.”

“I’ve never come from someone eating me out before,” you admit quietly, a blush furiously heating your cheeks until you fear that if you touch your face you might burn yourself.

Adrian fixes you with a deadpan stare, and a slew of emotions cross his face before he lands on something relatively serene and says, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

He nods and grins, like this is the most casual conversation in the world, and his green eyes bore into yours. “Yeah. You should probably, uh… hold on, though.”

You frown in confusion. “To what?”

He rocks back on his knees, picking up your arms by the wrists, and he very simply places your hands on his head, with a little smile that conveys, ‘it’s no big deal,’ but the tenderness with which he does it sends another message, altogether. Your fingers weave between soft, unruly curls, your fingernails digging in just a bit when he lowers himself down between your thighs, and you come to the conclusion that this is just how he is. Tenderness, closeness, hidden behind casual sighs and dismissive shrugs.

You’re learning. Slowly.

His breath finds you before his lips do, where you’re wet and swollen and slippery like you haven’t been touched in your fucking life. But he has once already, and still his mouth feels like a searing hot brand between your legs. In fact, you nearly jump out of your skin at the first brush of his tongue through your folds, your hands tightening on his hair and tugging as you buck your hips up against him.

Adrian grasps your hips and slams them down against the mattress. Sometimes you forget how fucking strong he is. His slight frame really doesn’t give justice to the force behind those lean muscles, because he holds you in an iron grip that you can hardly wiggle out of. It makes you feel small, in a way, that he holds you hostage to his tongue and won’t let you move away from or towards him.

A long, miserable whine rips out of your lips before you can stop it, and you could blush at how pathetic it sounds, except that Adrian mimics it with a groan against your cunt. Your head is flung back against the pillows, but when you just barely tilt up to glance down at him, you find his green eyes trained directly on you. They start off wide as moons, and then narrow like he’s challenging you to look away as he drags the flat expanse of his tongue slowly over your clit, curling the tip just as it skims the mark.

“Oh, fuck you, Adrian, you’re so fucking good,” you grit out through clenched teeth. Your nails dig into his scalp and he shudders, briefly nuzzling his head up into your touch before he dips down to give you his tongue again. Your breath hitches, and your eyes flutter shut when he sucks on your clit long and hard. “So… s-so good… good boy…”

The moan that Adrian makes is overtly pornographic, and his hips snap once against the mattress so hard that the bed shakes beneath you. He breaks away from you to rest his forehead against your thigh, squeezing your hips tightly in his hold as his hot breath billows across your sweat-damp skin.

You loosen your fingers in his hair to stroke it softly, subconsciously struggling to flatten the cowlick at the back that you’d noticed earlier. Adrian’s eyes are squeezed shut, his shoulders heaving while he tries to steady his breath through his nose. “Did you just come?”

The tips of Adrian’s ears glow pink. He gives you a little nod and then a feeble, “Couldn’t help it.”

So, he can’t just take his praise in stride, he has to react to it with fervor. “That’s really sexy of you,” you blurt out, your voice ragged and just this side of adoring.

He returns with a quiet mmm, rumbling across your skin as he drags his open mouth along the sensitive flesh of your thigh, his eyes drowsily shut. It takes him another moment to catch his breath, but once he does, he’s right back at it again. Dipping his head down and absolutely going for it with no signs of letting up, and you have to suck in a deep stream of air and scramble for a hold on him somehow.

“Oh- oh my fuckin-g god-” your voice comes out without thinking, wrung thin and anguished, as your foot plants itself in his shoulder. Adrian simply grunts, paying no mind to the fact that you’re effectively kicking the living shit out of him as he sucks so hard on your clit that you threaten to break his vise-hold on your hips.

He was right that you needed something to hold onto, because you feel like you might leave the ground. He works at you relentlessly, devouring you with his lips and tongue and teeth like he can’t get enough of you, his fingertips pressing so hard into your hips that his nails are turning stark white.

“Fuck, you’re so squirmy,” Adrian groans when he pulls away from you for half a second, and struggles to hold you down when you try to chase his mouth. “Should I tie you down?”

“Do you have anything to tie me down with?” you mutter breathlessly toward the ceiling.

A beat. “Nope. Stay still.”

You fight not to jolt as the next touch of his mouth on you. He dips his tongue into your channel, seemingly trying to draw your arousal out of you that way. You start whining when he finally nuzzles his way back up, giving you soft, teasing licks to your clit that edge you closer and closer to the release of the swell of heat you feel building in your core. Your volume turns up a notch when his tongue starts drawing little circles around the swollen flesh.

And when his lips come down to latch onto it and gently suck, you know you’re just shy of howling. His soft groans vibrate onto your skin as you scratch at his head and pull on his hair, and you eventually find yourself babbling, “Adrian, please, I’m gonna come, please pleasepleaseplease-”

He sucks harder, moaning like it turns him on just to hear you say it. You heave a few rapid breaths, and then come against his face with a cry that crackles and breaks in your throat as your head arches back, baring your neck forward. Your heels digging into his back, hands scratching, hips flailing like you can somehow escape the barrage of hypersensitivity he’s putting you through.

You really fucking hope no one is in the room next to yours.

His fingertips stick to your skin once he releases his grip on you. He’s practically glowing, grinning from ear to ear at you from between your legs, and it’s a better image than you had imagined.

You drop your head back with a breathless chuckle. “Okay, Mr. ‘I Have No Pride.’”

“I made you come,” he chirps happily.

“Yeah, you did. It was really good, too.”

“So, why didn’t anyone else?” Adrian pushes his head toward your touch when you stroke your hand gently through his hair.

“I dunno. They weren’t applying themselves, I guess.”

“That’s stupid. You’re, like, the hottest person ever. Hotter than Doja Cat,” he grumbles petulantly, and you can tell by the look in his eye that he’s dead serious. “Want me to kill them? I should kill them.”

“No.” You trail your fingers down the curve of his face, going for his chin, but he turns his face and sucks your two fingers into his mouth before you can manage it. You stop dead as the pad of his tongue swirls around the digits, and he blinks up at you innocently, despite the lewd connotations of the act. “N-no, I… hhhhh… you’re distracting me.”

He bats his eyes at you, and he slowly pulls back along your fingers until they pop out of his mouth, covered in saliva. “How am I distracting you?”

“You’re- you… you little shit.” You grab him by the chin and draw him up from between your legs. He clumsily crawls up the length of your torso with his cheeks smushed between your fingers as you hiss, “I’m going to fuck the ever-loving shit out of you, I swear to god.”

“You know, that sounds slightly menacing when you say it like that,” he slurs, his jaw working against your hold.

“On your back, Chase.”

He grabs you before you can protest, and rolls back over so that you plop down on top of him, your hand still jammed up against his jaw. A blast of air comes out of your lungs in lieu of laughter, and Adrian snorts, shuffling his hips so that he moves back against the pillows.

“Okay, look, I really really really like you,” he says as you pick yourself up, straddling his lap, “but if you’re too good at this I might accidentally fall in love with you. Just to let you know what you’re getting into here.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“Yeah, and I think I might actually, um, ask you to move in with me, like, immediately. Like tomorrow. Do you rent or own? Doesn’t matter, I can put your name on the lease. Maybe if you own a house it can be income property-”

You cast your eyes down and find him, remarkably, hard and leaking precum as he continues babbling about living situations. You tilt your head, letting him get his stream of consciousness out there in the open, as your eyes catch on a dark wad of fabric beside his pillow. Your underwear, which he’d gingerly set aside instead of tossing across the room like you thought he would.

“Hm, Adrian?”

He blinks up at you, his eyes wide and dilated. “Yeah?”

You pick up the wadded up underwear. “You wanted to keep these, right?”

He licks his lips. “Um. Yes.”

“Hold them for me, then.” You grab his jaw and stuff them in his mouth, his eyes nearly popping out of his skull as he makes a noise of protest, but then actually moans when, presumably, he tastes you on them. “You’re so fucking cute, I haven’t even tied you up. You just want my taste in your mouth, huh?” He nods. “Yeah. Pretty boy.”

He predictably moans again, his hands grasping at every part of you they can reach; your arms, your breasts, the expanse of his palms gliding down the curve of your waist and settling on your thighs. You grab one, lifting it and settling his palm against your throat.

“Hold this for me, too?” You ask him sweetly, giving his bewildered expression a devilish smirk in return. You rock forward, sliding your dripping pussy along his erection, and his hand tightens on your throat just a bit. “That’s it.”

You pick your hips up, reaching between your legs to position him where you want him, and when you sink down onto his cock, the underwear in his mouth does nothing to muffle the obscene groan that he makes. His hand flexes on your throat, and his eyes close and open a few times as he tries to maintain a certain amount of control. Something tells you that he’s not really used to taking it lying down.

You’re already decently sore from the way he effectively fucked your brains out in the shower. This is just ensuring that you’re going to be feeling it for the rest of the week, but you can’t help yourself. You take him in all the way, making agonized noises the entire time, and then jolt your hips down a little more so you can feel him bottom out.

“Fucking hell, baby, you’re something else,” you snarl down at him, and his eyes go wide again as you squeeze him, every bit of your aching strength bearing down onto his cock until he whines loudly through the fabric and his fingers tighten on the sides of your throat. “Oh, god, I could ruin you. You could ruin me. I want you to, it would be so easy for you, I wouldn’t even be able to walk in the morning.”

And you’re moving, picking up your hips and letting them fall back down in slow, deep strokes that have him writhing, his free hand in a death grip on your thigh. You raise your hand to press against the back of his on your throat, your fingers weaving in between his, and he flexes them back a bit to make room.

Even when he’s gagged, he’s noisy. Keening and grunting at you, his jaw tightening every once in a while and the tendons of his neck jumping out at you when your hips meet his. Dark curls hang down his forehead, damp with sweat, and you can’t help but feel like the shower was useless.

No, not useless. It brought you here.

Adrian bucks his hips up suddenly, meeting you halfway when you take a particularly long time on the downstroke. You gasp, tightening your hand on his, and your nails dig into his chest.

“Oh, you want me to ruin you, don’t you?” You murmur at him, baiting him to do it again. And he does, just like you hoped he would. You pick up the pace in retaliation, letting the lewd sounds of your skin hitting his fill the room. “Silly boy, I knew you would.”

He whimpers, blinking up at you slowly, his face screwing up and tightening in earnest when you rake your nails up and down his chest. He makes a couple pathetic, weak groans in the back of his throat like he wants to convey something to you, but he’s not reaching up to remove your underwear from his mouth.

(You wonder if he even remembers that he can.)

“You gonna come for me?” you ask as his whimpers increase in volume. His cock is so hard, twitching and dragging thick inside you, and his chest jumps with every desperate, ragged breath he takes. “Yeah, you are. Go on, baby, make a mess.”

Adrian gives you a curt shake of his head, and paws at your thigh for a second before his hand slides forward, and his thumb touches your clit.

“Oh fuck, Adrian-” you lurch forward, pressing your throat hard against his palm, your legs seizing up on either side of his hips. He makes you come again with a single fucking touch, and it burns through your core like fire, almost more satisfying than the first because you’re able to feel him inside you this time, something warm and hard and thick to come on.

Apparently, that was all he needed in order to let go. His back arches a bit as he jerks his hips up into yours, and he fills your pulsing cunt until his shallow breaths rattle in his throat, his eyes squeezed so tight that you see a tear collecting in the corner of one. He lays with his head driven back hard into the pillow, whimpering and whining like he’s been mortally wounded.

Too sore to move just yet, you pull his hand away from your throat and kiss his palm. Adrian’s eyes flutter open, and he finds you with a glazed-over stare, like he might either see you or see through you. Still letting out soft whimpers with each harsh exhale.

“Oh. Sweetheart,” you giggle, and reach forward to pull the wad of underwear from his mouth. It comes out with a long string of his spit attached to it, and you give him a cheeky smirk as you break the string with your finger and lick it off, rather than wiping it on your skin.

“You… you’re…” You swear his eyes nearly roll back in his skull before he closes them, trying to collect himself. He takes a deep, long breath, and then splutters, “Willyoumarrymeactually?”

You give him your biggest, goofiest grin, a little bubble of laughter wedging itself deep in your chest. “Get a little more whisky in me, and we’ll see what bright ideas I have then.”

“Okay.”

You lift yourself off of his softening cock, and the release comes with a dribble of his cum sliding down your thigh. He groans, but with one look at him you know that there’s not going to be any more action for the rest of the night.

You shift to the left, and his hand smacks down onto your thigh. “Mmmm no, you sleep with me.”

“Yeah, obviously. But you came all over the sheets earlier, genius.”

“Oh.”

He takes a deep breath in and opens his eyes in time to see you taking his glasses off. You blink a few times, your eyes having adjusted to the slight difference in your prescriptions, and refocus on his face to find him gazing up at you adoringly.

“I’m gonna take a guess and say you don’t sleep in these, too?” You wiggle the glasses at him.

He licks his lips. “No, not… not usually.”

You set the glasses on the bedside table, and then slowly slide off of him, off the bed and onto shaky legs. You take his hand and tug just a bit. “C’mon, pretty. Into my bed.”

He follows your lead without a fuss, making the two step journey to the other bed and plopping down face-first.

“D’you wanna get pancakes when we wake up?” he asks around a yawn as you nudge his ass, prodding him to scoot over.

You nod furiously, even though you know he can’t see you as you switch the light off and climb in beside him, curling up against his warm back. “Pancakes sound fucking delicious.”

“Not as delicious as your pus-”

“Adrian.”