maple. mid 20's. side blog for my random interests. down bad for adrian chase/vigilante. mdni.
main acc: @sssatorus (jjk and other anime)
đ§¸adrian chase x engineer!reader masterlist
Xuebing Du
Today's Document
taylor price
Sweet Seals For You, Always


PR's Tumblrdome

tannertan36
Monterey Bay Aquarium
almost home
cherry valley forever
i don't do bad sauce passes
Misplaced Lens Cap
occasionally subtle
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
One Nice Bug Per Day
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
YOU ARE THE REASON
Jules of Nature

seen from CĂ´te dâIvoire

seen from CĂ´te dâIvoire
seen from CĂ´te dâIvoire
seen from CĂ´te dâIvoire

seen from China
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Egypt

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom

seen from United Kingdom
@maple-m0th
maple. mid 20's. side blog for my random interests. down bad for adrian chase/vigilante. mdni.
main acc: @sssatorus (jjk and other anime)
đ§¸adrian chase x engineer!reader masterlist

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
brat 4 brat THE PITT 2.15, "9:00 P.M."
Ohhhhh thats dada right there love when he looks beat tf up
I feel like my husband has returned from war. Like. This is Adrian after an undercover mission. He got punched in the face (itâs his fault he was egging the guy on and now heâs arguing to Harcourt that itâs not his fault)
Bye, I saw somebody say "Freddie Stroma and Shawn Hatosy playing father and son" last week, and I'm still feral holy shit!!!!đđđđ
Like tbh I don't really see any real resemblance, but I would eat that shit up like I eat out the last pudding cup holy shit

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
trigger happy
Adrian Chase x fem!Reader
epilogue
tags/warnings: hurt/comfort, mention of hospitals/injury recovery, fluff!!!, the happy ending these idiots deserve, SMUT - MDNI (fingering, piv sex), this is the end đđ¤đ¤đŠľ
Thank you @embeanwrites for all the support throughout this fic I appreciate you so so much!! And thank you to everyone who has commented and reblogged y'all have given me life throughout this process and I love you!!
part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten | epilogue | Masterlist
When your eyes flutter open, you flinch, squinting into the bright fluorescent lights of the hospital room.
âFuck. Turn the lights off,â you mutter.
âYou want to sit here in the dark?â asks a familiar voice. âI mean. Weird. But okay.âÂ
Heavy footsteps walk toward the door, and you hear the flick of two switches as the lights turn out. You sigh with relief. Thereâs still light filtering through from the hallway, and between that and the blinking lights of all the machines youâre hooked up to, thereâs plenty of light to see by.
Chris takes his seat back in the chair at your bedside, and you look at him curiously.
âYou are not the face I was expecting to see,â you say, a little hoarsely. âHow long was I out?â
âA couple days,â Chris says solemnly. You wince.
âHow is he?â you ask, and Chris snorts.
âYouâre the one laid up in a hospital bed, you know that, right? Hooked up to a bunch of machines and IVs and shit?â
âChris.â
âHeâs a mess,â he tells you, and your heart cracks. âThe only reason heâs not here right now is because heâs been sitting in this chair staring at you for days, and he stank like hell, so I made him go home and take a shower. I told him to sleep, too, but we both know he wonât. Either way, heâs gonna be pissed that you woke up while he was gone. You should just go back to sleep, probably, and pretend.â
âThank you,â you say softly. âFor making him take care of himself, at least a little bit. Andâfor the rest of it. Everything.â You swallow past a growing lump in your throat as you think of everything thatâs happened over the last few weeks. âSince the day you met me Iâve just beenâa fucking disaster. And youâve been nothing but kind.â
âYou are a bit of a disaster,â Chris allows. âThatâs why you fit in. With the rest of us. But maybe less murder, from now on, yeah? Leave that to Adrian? Iâm tired of burning bodies.â
âYouâve cleaned up a lot of crime scenes for me, huh?â you say, laughing. âI owe you. Big time.â
âDonât be stupid,â Chris says. âFriends help each other.â
Itâs the first time heâs referred to you that way. As a friend. It makes you smile.
âWe do,â you agree, and he smiles back.
Then the door swings open, and Adrian comes shuffling in, arms full of water bottles and snacks, his glasses crooked on his nose as he tries to juggle everything. Your heart stutters in your chest at the sight of him. Itâs been days, and you havenât even been conscious for most of it, but it feels like you were in that dark, dusty basement for years, thinking that youâd never see him again. Now heâs here, in front of you, and you instantly feel your throat going tight with built up emotion.
âDude, why the fuck are you sitting here in the dark? Thatâs so fucking weird.â
âDonât ask me,â Chris says, and he gestures toward you.
Adrianâs eyes go wide when he looks at your face and sees you looking back at him with a soft smile and teary eyes. âYouâoh my godâbabyââ
Everything in his arms goes tumbling to the floor, forgotten, and he rushes to your side. His hands hover, like he wants to touch you, but heâs not sure if he should, if heâs allowed. You try to reach up with both your hands, but youâve got one arm stuck in a bulky cast, so you have to settle for one, cupping his cheek.
âHi,â you smile, and he melts into your touch, tilting his head and pressing his face further into your palm like a puppy that wants to be pet. You oblige, running your fingers into his hair.
âAre you okay?â he asks, a bit frantic when you blink and a tear runs down your cheek. He brushes it away with his sleeve, careful and gentle. âAre you in pain? Should I get the nurses? Do you need water? Food? Are you hungry orââ
You shush him, shaking your head, and he falls silent immediately. But he still worries, eyes flicking over your face, catching on every bruise and scratch he sees.
âDonât ever do that to me again,â Adrian says roughly. His lower lip trembles. âDonât ever do that to me again.â
He presses a kiss to your lips, and you return it with fervor, letting him take what he needs. Somewhere in the background, you hear the door opening and closingâChris giving you some privacy.
Adrian breaks away, but leaves his forehead pressed against yours, hands coming to rest on your neck. Heâs feeling for your pulse, you think, right where it races beneath your skin, reassuring himself that itâs there, that your heart is beating, that youâre alive.
âWhatâs the prognosis?â you ask, and you feel the way Adrianâs jaw ticks beneath your hand. Youâd been practically unconscious by the time youâd gotten to the hospital, so out of it that you barely remember a thing after the gunshot that killed your kidnapper and you collapsed back into Adrianâs arms. But for him, youâre sure, the memory is clear as day. His hands drift down, tracing over the bandages and stitches holding you together, reassuring himself that youâre here with him in one piece.
âBroken arm,â he says, knocking lightly on the shell of your cast. âA bad one. At least three months with that.â
âFuck,â you mutter.
âSeveral stab wounds. Nothing too deep, but you know that,â Adrian says. He swallows, eyes wet. âMost of the bleeding was internal. They beat the shit out of you, baby. You were in surgery for hours.â
Your heart cracks. âOh, honey,â you whisper, wiping away a tear that runs down his cheek. âItâs okay. Iâm okay.â
âYouâre not okay,â Adrian says, voice shaking. âYouâre inâyouâre in the hospital. Youâve been unconscious for days, youâre stitched up like Frankenstein, and fuck, I love you, baby, but you look like shitââ
âI love you, too,â you interrupt, and he goes quiet. You smile, a little wobbly, and his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, eyes laser-focused.
âI never thoughtââ he starts, then cuts himself off, tries again. âI never imagined I would ever have this. Now that I do, now that I knowâI am never, ever, letting you out of my sight again. I opened the door to that basement and I thought you wereââ
He canât finish the sentence. His voice cracks.
âTheyâre gone,â you say firmly, for him, but for yourself, too. Your hand curls into the short tuft of hair at the back of his neck, still damp from the shower he had run home to take. He shivers at the touch, eyes fluttering closed. You kiss him again, softly. âTheyâre all gone, they canât hurt me anymore.â
âYour dad is still alive,â Adrian says. The words are tinged with bitterness. You bite your lip, frowning.
âI know,â you say. âAnd ifâif you want toâŚtake care of that. We can discuss that at a later date.â
He nods, satisfied enough with your response for the time being. He laces his fingers with your good hand, holding it up. âYour braceletâit was on your broken arm, andâit was drenched in blood,â he says, softly. âThey had to cut it off for the surgery. I gave you mine.â
Sure enough, thereâs a black and blue friendship bracelet knotted around your good wrist that wasnât there before, and Adrianâs is notably absent. His fingers run over the string, the tiny silver heart charm.
âThank you,â you whisper, trying to swallow past the lump in your throat, becauseâitâs just a stupid bracelet. But itâs also not.
âWeâll go back,â he says firmly, looking you right in the eyes. âTo the arcade. Once youâre better. And get new ones. Weâll get so many fucking friendship bracelets you wonât know what to do with them all.â
âPromise?â
âPromise.â
They discharge you after a week.
Technically, you can go back home to your apartment now. Thereâs no one left looking for you, stalking you, trying to kidnap or kill you. Chris fixed up your bedroom door and front window for you while you were staying at the trailer before, and most of your stuff is still there. It would be easy.
But itâs not. And you canât. Adrian drives you there, pulls up to the curb, and takes one look at the dread on your face before putting the car in drive and going back to the trailer. You grip his hand wordlessly, grateful that you donât have to explain that you donât want to go back to the place where it all started. That you canât walk into the kitchen and look at the knife block, missing two blades. That you wonât be able to sleep in your bedroom without picturing the dead body slumped in the corner.
Adrian is secretly grateful, too, because he doesnât think he could manage it either. Doesnât think he can walk past the threshold of your bedroom without a spike of panic, without seeing a vision of you covered in blood.
âIâll go back later,â he says, âto get the rest of your clothes and your stuff.â
Adrian stays with you, of course, because thereâs not a chance in hell youâd be able to function on your own, and thereâs not a chance in hell he would even let you try. Itâll take a couple months to heal, at least, the doctors told you, especially the break in your arm. You need to take it easy, stay on top of your meds and physical therapy.
âIâll be there,â he promises. âFor all of it.â
Thereâs not a fucking shot heâs letting you out of his sight, especially in those first few weeks, when youâre still struggling to walk and perform basic tasks on your own, limited by your injuries. He takes leave from Fennel Fields so he can take care of you. Drives you to appointments, holds you through the nightmares, laughs with you on the good days, which are growing more and more frequent as time goes on.
And then he never goes back to work. Because Ads and Emilia stop by six weeks later with a proposal. An idea for a new companyâCheckmate. A way to put all the drug money sitting in his basement to good use.
Adrian hesitates at first. But you talk him into it.
âYouâll be able to help so many people,â you say softly. âPeopleâpeople like me. Who donât have anybody else.â
He cups your cheeks. âYou have me, now,â he says. âYou have all of us. Chris and Ads and Harcourt and Economos. ButâI know what you mean.â
âYouâll do it?â
He thinks about it. Tilts his head and considers, looking down at you.
âOnly if you promise to work there too.â
âWhat?â Youâre confused. âAdrianâI have no relevant skills to bring to the tableââ
âYou do, actually,â he argues. âIâve been training you for months, and yeah, youâre a little out of practice, but youâre a fucking badass, and youâre even better at throwing knives than me and Chris. Donât tell him I said that.â
You laugh. You canât help it.
âBut I know you donât want to kill people all the time. You can beâI donât know. Our secretary,â he suggests. âOr donât! You can sit there in the corner and look pretty and Iâll pay you a salary for it, I donât give a fuck. But donât go back to your old job. Come to Checkmate with us.â He swallows roughly. âWith me.â
You search his face, see how serious he is. âYou wonât, like, get sick of me?â There are probably other things you should be more concerned about.
âI could never, ever, ever get sick of you,â he says with a quivering, nervous smile. âYou will probably get sick of me. And maybe itâsâa little selfish of me. To want you with me all the time. And I knowâweâre doing all this really fast. Itâs only been sixty-three days since I first kissed youââ
âYouâve been keeping track?â Your heart flutters in your chest.
ââand you were unconscious for several of those days, but I donât really give a fuck, baby, becauseâyouâre it for me. I know you are, this isââ
âOkay,â you interrupt. Adrian falls instantly silent, eyes wide, and when you smile at him, he smiles right back, wider than youâve ever seen. âOkay. Iâll work at Checkmate. I can do admin work, or budgeting, orââ
He cuts you off with a fierce, joyful kiss, your noise of surprise muffled by his mouth. You feel the tension drain from his body as he pulls you closer and realizes he wonât have to let go for a long, long while, and you know youâve made the right choice.
So you submit your resignation at work and throw yourself into planning with the girls. Youâre relieved to have something to do while youâre healing besides wandering aimlessly around the trailer and sleeping.Â
Adrian is reluctant to let you leave his side, but as long as youâre not alone, and youâre armedâhis favorite knife, now yours, back in your possession, tucked into special pockets Adrian has sewn into all your favorite clothesâhe bites back his anxiety for your sake. Still, he hugs you extra tight the minute you get back from filing legal paperwork with Ads or looking for office space to rent with Emilia. All three of you take pity on him, and let all of the boys come along for the furniture shopping trip, laughing as Adrian and Chris try out every spinny desk chair they can find.
Only a month later, everythingâs coming together, and youâre walking hand in hand with Adrian into the office for the first official day. He sets your bag on the reception desk by the front door. He wouldnât let you carry it, even though you insisted you still had one arm that was perfectly functional at the moment, and your broken arm was in a lighter brace now instead of an ugly, bulky cast.
âThis is your desk?â Adrian pouts. âItâs so far away from all the other desks! How come you canât be next to me?â
âA little bit of space is healthy, honey,â you remind him. âItâs literally only twelve feet. And we spend the rest of the day attached at the hip anyway.â
He sighs forlornly. âFine. I guess Iâll be all the way over there. If you ever decide you want my love,â he says dramatically. You roll your eyes.
âI always want your love,â you say, kissing him quickly. âLook. I promise I wonât forget you. Even though youâre a whole dozen feet away.â
You reach into your bag with the things youâd brought to decorate your desk, pulling out the photobooth pictures youâd taken at the arcade this past weekend, when he dragged you back to earn enough tickets to replace your matching friendship bracelets. You tuck it into the edge of your computer monitor and pat it.
âPerfect,â you say. âNow even when I turn around, youâre still right in front of my face.â
He grins. âIâm still gonna roll my chair over and annoy you twenty times a day.â
âI would expect nothing less.â
âStop being sappy,â Chris complains as he walks past you. âIâm gonna make Ads hire an HR department just so I can file complaints about you two being gross.â
âNope,â Adrian says, wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling into your neck. âNot gonna happen.â
âGet to work,â you tell him, shoving his chest playfully.
He gives you a tiny salute, and a final kiss, and heads over to his own desk. You watch as he pulls something out of his own bagâthe matching photo strip to yours. He tucks it into his own monitor and glances back at you. You smile.
âIs that the last one?â you ask as Adrian sets a cardboard box on top of a precarious pile and beams down at you.
âThatâs the last one,â he says.Â
He hadnât let you carry a single box. Youâre still healing, he insists, practically every single day. Even though itâs been more than three months since you were kidnapped, and itâs been a week since they took the brace off your healed arm, he hasnât let you pick up a single thing heavier than a mug of tea. And thereâs been a lot of heavy lifting to do over the last two days.
You shut the front door to your brand-new apartment and click the lock shut with a sense of finality, turning around to face your boyfriend with a bright smile.
âHoney, Iâm home,â Adrian says, in an exaggerated tv-sitcom-dad voice, and you crack up laughing.
But something about it genuinely warms your heart, because it is home, now. Itâs yours, and itâs Adrianâs.
After a few weeks at Checkmate, youâd started looking. It was nice enough at Chrisâs trailer. It was comfortable, it was safe there, but the tiny space didnât feel like it was really yours. So you started quietly looking, and you found a spot near the office and showed it to Adrian.
He didnât have the reaction you were expecting.
âYou donât want to live with me anymore?â he asked, distraught, getting panicky.
âYouâre an idiot,â you said, exasperated. âFor both of us, honey. We canât stay in Chrisâs trailer forever. I thoughtââ You paused, suddenly feeling a little shy. âI think we deserve a real home. A new one. A fresh start.â
âOh,â heâd said, both touched and relieved. âThank god. I did not want to move back in with my fucking mom.â
So youâd found a new place, together. Put his name on the lease right alongside yours. Now youâre finally here, and your heart swells when you see how happy he looks. You canât help yourselfâyou jump up into his arms, and he catches you easily as your legs hitch around his waist. You kiss him, and he smiles against your mouth.
âI love you,â he says, peppering kisses across your cheeks. He sets you down gently, though he still holds you tightly, your arms looped around his neck.
âI love you too,â you smile.
âWhere do we even start?â Adrian asks now, staring at the overwhelming piles. The living room is a mess of cardboard boxes and unbuilt IKEA furniture.
The IKEA trip this past weekend was a whole other chaotic misadventure. Adrian had dragged you through every showroom and excitedly admired all the little knick-knacks while you pointedly reminded him that you were there to buy furniture, not decorative spiders or a disco ball. (You let him have the decorative spiders anyway. It broke your heart to see him pout about it.) He also mispronounced the name of every product you walked past just to make you laugh and ate way too many meatballs, but you did leave with the shelving, dresser, bed, and couch that you needed, at the very least.
âUm, shelves first?â you suggest. âSo that when we unpack, we actually, you know, have some place to put all of our clothes and stuff?â
âYouâre so smart, babe.â
Adrian breaks open the box, and you reach for the directions while he starts laying the pieces out on the floor.
âYou know, they say this is the official relationship test,â you muse, waving the direction pamphlet in his face. âIf you can assemble IKEA furniture together without killing each other, youâre set for life.â
âBabe, weâve killed several people together,â Adrian says, snatching the directions out of your hand. âSo I donât think killing each other is going to be an issue. I also think we are past the point of furniture assembly. But if thatâs what I have to do to prove my love to you, allow me to put together thisâŚâ He squints at the name of the item. â...Kallax? and solidify our future as a couple.â
Itâs a surprisingly smooth process, but it takes longer than you expect, and you realize as itâs nearing nine p.m. that maybe you should have started with the bedframe or the couch instead of the bookshelf and the dresser.
âIâm so fucking tired,â you complain, flopping onto the floor onto your stomach, stretching out your aching back. âIâm so out of shape.â You havenât done this much physically in a while, even though Adrian has shouldered the bulk of the manual labor.
Adrian laughs, laying down next to you and nudging your foot with his, rubbing gently down your spine.
âWe can finish tomorrow,â he says. âWe donât have to do all of this right now.â
âBut Chris and Ads and everyone are coming over tomorrow! We need to be ready for guests!â
âItâs okay. They can sit on the floor. They literally work black ops. Theyâve slept in the shittiest places you can think of. It wonât kill them to sit on our carpet for an hour.â
âIt might kill John,â you say, and Adrian makes a noncommittal noise.
âYou can go to sleep, then, and Iâll finish the couch by myself,â he says. âThe bedframe isnât put together, but we still have the mattress. Get some rest. Youâre still healing, babyââ
You pout, rolling over on the floor closer to him. âIâm not sleeping by myself on our first night in our new apartment.â
âOkay, okay,â Adrian laughs. âThen we go to bed and we worry about the rest in the morning.â He gets to his feet, then pulls you to yours, and you lean into him, letting his arms wrap around you in a hug.
âBed?â he asks.
âYeah,â you sigh. âBed.â
An hour later, once youâve showered, changed into pajamas, and put some sheets on the bare mattress, you flop down onto the cushioned surface next to Adrian and sigh happily. He rolls closer to you instinctively, pulling you closer to him with a hand on your waist, and you kiss his cheek as he pulls the covers up over you both.
âNo,â he complains petulantly. âGimme a real one.â
You laugh and peck him on the lips, then pull back with a devious smile, because youâre planning on giving him a hell of a lot more than that.
âYou know how I had my doctorâs appointment today?â you say, trailing a finger down his chest. He hums in acknowledgement. âThe doctor said Iâve been doing everything right. He cleared me to start working out again.â
âReally?â Adrian says, brightening. âDoes that mean we can start your training up again?â
âMhm,â you say.
Then you hitch a leg over his hips, swinging yourself on top of him, resting your hands on his solid chest. He freezes, eyes wide as he stares up at you.
âWhat are you doing?â he asks, speaking so quickly the words run into one another. You lean down, letting your weight settle all the way against him, and he inhales sharply.
âThe doctor also cleared me for sexual activity,â you whisper in his ear, and all the breath rushes out of his lungs in an audible whoosh.
âOh,â Adrian says breathlessly, pupils blown wide. His hands squeeze your waist, and you roll your hips in a sharp, sudden movement, feeling him growing hard beneath you. âOh godâdonâtâwarn a guy, would youââ
âThat first night in your bed,â you say as you kiss a line down his jaw, âyou said we were going toârevisit this later?â You push back the blankets and sit back onto his thighs so you can see him fully, open-mouthed and gasping beneath you. âThis is me. Revisiting this. If you want. Because I want you, honey.â
âAre you kidding,â he gasps. âI have literally wanted to fuck you since you shot that guy in the alley the first night we met, I amâfuckââ
He scrambles to sit up and yank his shirt off in one swift movement, and you nearly topple off his lap, laughing. When he reaches for the hem of your shirt to do the same, you lift your arms to make it easier for him, and you go down easily, giggling when he flips you over onto your back, your hair splaying out on the pillow behind you.
Adrian props himself up over you and you hook a leg over his hip, pulling him closer to you, grinning with satisfaction when his clothed cock brushes against you and he closes his eyes and groans.
âDonâtâdonât fucking do that,â he says, pushing your leg down. âDo you not remember how fast I came in my pants the first timeââ
âMaybe I want you to again,â you tease.
âI wantâIâve wanted you so bad,â he says, and it sounds like heâs in pain, his voice straining.
âYouâve been so good to me,â you say, andâyouâre not teasing anymore. You feel ridiculous, actually, suddenly emotional and vulnerable. âSoâpatient and helpful and good. However you want me, honey, you can have me. Forever.â
âAll the ways,â he whispers. âI want you all the ways.â
He dips his head down to kiss you, soft and hungry, and you open up for him, let it deepen. One of his hands trails down your bare torso, firm and purposeful, and when he reaches for the hem of your underwear, you lift your hips without him having to ask so he can pull them down your legs.
Thereâs a wet, smacking sound as his lips break away from yours, and your chest heaves as you take a moment to suck in air. Adrian kneels between your legs and spreads your thighs apart, and you feel yourself clench around nothing in anticipation.
âWhat do you want?â he asks. âMy mouth or my fingers?â
You feel yourself flush with heat even as you huff a laugh and cover your face with your hands. Heâs so blunt, so matter-of-fact about it, like heâs asking you what you want for dinner, not how you would like your orgasm of the evening. Itâs weirdly endearing.
âWhy are you laughing?â he asks, genuinely confused. You take a deep breath and settle yourself.
âI just love you,â you say. âAnd Iâm really, really happy.â Adrian smiles.
âIâm really, really happy too,â he says.Â
âI want you to do whatever you want,â you breathe, answering his question. Then he touches you, hands ghosting up your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and your eyes fall closed as you shiver with anticipation.
Adrian slides a finger through your wetnessânot teasing. Exploring. He brushes over your clit, circling lightly, and your muscles clench involuntarily. He presses harder, firmer, and a strangled noise escapes the back of your throat.
When your eyes flutter open, Adrianâs head is tilted, locked in on you where youâre wet and wanting, pupils widening behind his glasses as he watches the tip of his finger disappear inside you and feels you clench around him, suck him deeper inside.
âMore?â he asks, and you nod. Your breath hitches when he slides another finger inside you and brushes his thumb lightly over your clit. You try to reach for his shoulders to steady yourself, but heâs too far away, and you make a frustrated noise.
âCome here,â you say. He follows your order obediently, and you clutch at his biceps, hips rutting upwards to meet the movement of his fingers. âKiss me.â
Adrianâs lips meet yours immediately, tongue delving into your mouth, and you let yourself sink into the sensation of him. The way heâs touching you, kissing you, holding you, surrounding you. He grunts when your nails dig into the muscle of his shoulders.
âAdrian,â you plead. âPlease, Adrian, I needââ
âWhat do you need?â he asks, kissing down your neck, never relenting the steady movement of his hand. You reach down for the hem of his sweatpants, trying desperately to reach and push them down, out of the way, to get to what you want. Youâve been so, so patient, and you are so, so tired of waiting.
âI wantâI needâyou to fuck me.â
Adrian pushes down his pants and underwear, kicking them off. âHang onâneed a condom, babyââ
âIâm on birth control,â you remind him, grabbing at him when he moves to get up. âIâve got the implant. Unless youâre off fucking other people in your very limited spare timeââ
âI would never!â he says, affronted.
âI know,â you say softly, laughing. âI trust you. I love you.â
Adrian swallows. âI love you, too,â he says, voice raspy, and he kisses you again like itâs the only thing that matters.
Then he rests his forehead against yours as he settles further down, his whole body covering yours, pressing you into the mattress, and you feel yourself growing wetter as his cock brushes against your center. He reaches down with one hand to line himself up, notching against your entrance and pushing in, stretching you open, filling you up the way youâve been craving for months. You feel his warm, panting breaths against your lips, hear his whispered praises, youâre entirely surrounded by, consumed by, overwhelmed by him in the best way.
You canât help the way your inner walls clench, and Adrian groans.
âFuck, baby,â he says. âDonât do that to me.â
âMove,â you tell him, shifting below him, and he does, a tender, slow thrust as he nips at your throat.
âStop being gentle with me,â you pant, hitching your legs up around his waist and squeezing. âIâm not made of glass. Fuck me, Adrian.â
The wanton, choked noise he makes is absolutely involuntary, and he thrusts again, an erratic, stuttered movement, but rougher, faster this time.
âYouâre gonna kill me,â he says. âYouâre gonnaâfucking kill me, and Iâm gonna be happy about it, butâfuckââ
âYes,â you gasp. âMoreâmoreââ
The positive praise spurs him on, and he sets a desperate, frenzied pace, and you push back to meet his every thrust as he plunges into you over and over again, hands curling into the bedsheets at your sides. His hands find yours, intertwine your fingers, and your chest heaves as you feel the familiar trickle of warm heat building in your spine.
âIâmâIâm close,â you tell him, and he snakes a finger between you to thumb at your clit.Â
âCome on, baby,â he says. âCome for me. Youâre so fucking pretty like this. We waited so long, didnât we? But nowâwe can do this every fucking day.â You whine at the thought, thighs quaking. âEvery day, Iâll make you feel this good, I promise I willââ
Your release rushes through you, and Adrian follows quickly behind, thrusts growing sloppy as you feel his cock twitching and spilling inside you. He collapses, half on top of you, his cheek resting on the cushion of your chest, which rises and falls with every deep breath you take. Your hand pets through his sweaty hair, and you giggle as you reach to take his glasses off where theyâre pinching at your sensitive skin.
âYou do,â you say softly. âYou make me feel good. Every day.â
He smiles into your sweaty skin and closes his eyes.
âI love you,â he says for the dozenth time that day, and your heart swells, because youâll never get tired of hearing it.
âI love you too, honey.â
âHow does February sound?â you ask, standing at your desk in the office. On one monitor, youâve got everyoneâs Checkmate mission schedules pulled up. On another, youâve got a window open to buy plane tickets.
âWe should be done with all our open cases by then,â Chris says, looking over your shoulder. âLetâs aim for the second week?â
âEm, Ads, John,â you call loudly. âAre you guys coming?â
âAm I coming on your weird vacation to go kill your mob boss dad?â John scoffs. âNo thanks. Iâm good.â
âHe canât come anyway,â Chris points out. âSomeone needs to watch Eagly.â
âIâm in,â Emilia says.
âWhat the hell,â Ads says. âWhy not?â
âItâll be like a team bonding activity!â Adrian exclaims. He looks down at you and beams. He still looks at you sometimes with this soft smile, like he canât quite believe that youâre real. That you chose this, chose him. That this is his life now. You lean over to kiss his cheek, but he turns his head to kiss you for real.
âHR violation number 5,019,â Chris says. âRight in front of my damn face.â
âYou say that like you and Emilia werenât making out in the break room the other day,â Ads says pointedly. âRight in front of my damn face. And my caesar salad.â
Chris falls silent and walks back to his desk, and you laugh. Emilia rolls her eyes.
âI think maybe all of you need to just stop being horny at work,â John mutters.
âI think maybe you just need to get laid,â Chris shoots back across the room.
âPlane tickets are being purchased,â you declare. âCheck your inboxes, people.â
Adrian, who has stolen your desk chair, pulls you into his lap right before you can click âconfirm.â You acquiesce easily, arms sliding around his neck, and look at him with confusion.
âWe donât have to,â he reminds you quietly, and youâreâsurprised, to say the least, that your boyfriend, whose favorite hobby is murder, who has wanted to kill your dad for months, is the one who is pausing to check in. He sees the way youâre looking at him with confusion and clarifies, âI mean. I absolutely want to. I really, really would like to cut his fingers off one by one and then shoot him in the face, and also kill all of the people who work for him. But I know heâs your dad.â
You glance around the room at the rest of the group. Chris and Emilia talking quietly to each other, Ads and John laughing and joking at his desk, and you feel light and happy and fulfilled.
âHe is my dad,â you allow. âBut heâs not my family.â
âI donât get it,â he says, brow furrowing.
You look back at Adrian, your hand coming up to cup his cheek. âThis is my family. You are my family. Youâre the ones who take care of me, who protect me, who love me.â
His eyes light up when he understands, and you smile. You complete the purchase for the plane tickets as youâre seated in his lap, Adrianâs head resting in the crook of your neck and watching over your shoulder as you send off the confirmation emails to the team. Once itâs done, you turn to face him, and he kisses you, cradling your face in his hands.
âCome on,â you remind him before he gets too carried away, nodding at your desk calendar. âTraining time, Vigilante. I ordered some extra ammo in this weekâs shipment, so you can get as trigger happy as you want this week.â
He grins and kisses you again, smiling against your mouth. âYou know me so well.â
Taglist: @maple-m0th @toocoldbestie @clowninavan @agustdboyoongie @bastardstevie @whimsicalforestfairy @eugene-emt-roe @a-young-g0d @lanadelreybbgg @teengirlsacrifice @trelaney @softersoftest @pulverized2dust @sumoattack-gooddog @under-stardust @feralamdtiredrat @tezzzzzzzz @jeshomie @deepblizzarddreaming @nobodylikeslia @am-3-thyst @morguegrl89 @adoresami @readerreadings02
Not for nothing, but why does his hair being mussed in the back there make me feel maternal?
I love using the word âfreakâ but like. not as a derogatory. itâs a compliment. heâs such a lil freak i love him. sheâs such a fucking freak sheâs just like me. theyâre just a freak and theyâre fucking awesome
how i sleep knowing i write shitty fiction but at least donât use chatgpt
sexy hug
Adrian Chase x fem!Reader, 4.6k
Adrian's acting weird, and when you ask him what's up, you get an answer you were not expecting.
tags/warnings: jealous!Adrian, bestfriend!Adrian, friends to lovers, SMUT - MDNI (oral - f receiving, protected piv sex), smut with feelings
Thank you @embeanwrites for the edits and suggestions!!
Masterlist
Itâs movie night, and something is wrong with Adrian.
âYou okay?â you ask, because Adrian hasnât eaten any of his popcorn. Normally heâs scarfed down half the bowl by now, but he just keeps picking up the pieces, looking at them forlornly, and tossing them back in the bowl. It was his choice this week, tooâsome cheesy slasher, and heâs barely even paying attention.
âIâm fine,â Adrian says, but heâs clearly not fine. Heâs one of the worst liars you know. Heâs pouting, his bottom lip sticking out just a bit, eyes looking big and sad. You sigh and pause the movie, turning to face him. You shift back on the couch, kick your legs up into his lap, and jostle his thigh with your foot.
âWhatâs wrong?â you ask bluntly, because you know from experience that asking directly is the only way to get through to Adrian. Subtlety is a lost cause with him.Â
âNothingâsââ
âDonât lie to me. I know somethingâs up.â
He hesitates, and heâs still staring into the popcorn bowl instead of looking at you, which makes you worry. Adrian might have trouble making eye contact with other people, but never with you. You frown.
He tells you everything. Heâs never lied to you, not once, in your whole lives. Youâve been friends since you were children. Youâve known about Vigilante since the beginning. Youâve been patrolling with him just as long. Youâve been there for every bullet wound and buried body and late-night patrol. Something is eating away at him, and itâs not like him to hide from you.
âTell me,â you say, softer, but itâs not a question. Itâs a demand.
âDo you like Economos? Why did you hug him?â Adrian asks, and youâre majorly caught off-guard, because that is not what you were expecting this to be about.
âIâwhat?â
âAfter the mission yesterday. When we got back to the van. You hugged Economos,â Adrian says, and the words have a bit of bite to them. Your brow furrows and you sit up straighter.
âWhat?â you say again, because you are still baffled.
âWe killed all those drug dealers in that warehouse, and then we got back to the van, and you hugged Economos.â
âIâyeah, I did,â you say, remembering. âHe was on the cameras while we were in there. He warned us through the earpiece about that guy that was right behind us that neither of us saw. I was saying thank you.â
âSo you hugged him?â Adrian asks, and it soundsâŚbitter?
âWait a minute. Are you jealous?â Adrian doesnât answer, but he is very pointedly not looking at you. âSeriously, Ade? Is that what this is about?â
âSo it wasnât, like, a sexy hug?â
âAdrian. Listen to yourself.â
âWhat?â
âWhat even is a sexy hug?â
âI donât know! A hug between two people who want to fuck each other, I guess!â
âAnd you think I want to fuck Economos?â
âWell, donât you?â
âNo!â you cry. âWhyâwhatââ
âWhy not?â
âWhy not?â you repeat, disbelief lacing your words.
âHe is my fourth best friend,â Adrian says petulantly. âHeâs a perfectly fuckable guy. You donât need to sound so offended by the prospect.â
âWhy do you want me to fuck Economos?â
âI donât want you to fuck Economos! That is literally the last thing I want!â
âThen why are we talking about this, Adrian?â
He falls silent and looks back down at his popcorn. He refuses to look at you, just stares at the tv screen even though itâs on pause, and you just hum and observe him for a moment, admiring his side profile.
âI canâtââ you start, but cut yourself off. âYou are such an idiot.âÂ
You donât mean it in a cruel way. The words come out fond, if anything. Adrianâs lips twitch. Itâs not a smile, but itâs something. Familiar territory, at least.
âYouâre so mean to me,â he complains halfheartedly, an accusation you hear at least once a week.
âYou love me anyway,â you say, like you always do, and you start to relax again, sliding your feet back into Adrianâs lap. He puts the popcorn bowl aside and sets his hands on your calves, absentmindedly tracing patterns on the fabric of your leggings.
But youâre not quite ready to let this go, yet.
âEven if I did want to fuck JohnâŚwhy would it matter?â you ask quietly.
Adrianâs hands still, his breath caught in his throat. Itâs like heâs petrified by your question. He canât look at you as you pull yourself up toward him. One hand reaches for his face, grips his chin firmly and turns his head to face you, holding him in place and making him look.
Your eyes are curious as they meet his, and Adrian hates the way that you look right through him. Like you can see right into the messy core of him, all the things he tries to hide away. Then your gaze flicks down to his lips, and his breath hitches, because god, he wants to kiss you right now. But you are his friend, his oldest, longest friend, and he really, really doesnât want to fuck it up.
But itâs all fucked up anyway, isnât it? Because of these stupid feelings, that wonât go away, no matter how much he pretends that they arenât there.
âIt would matter because Iâm in love with you,â he whispers. âEven though youâre mean to me sometimes. I donât want you to fuck Economos becauseâbecauseââ
âBecause you want to fuck me?â you finish. Like itâs that simple.
Adrian canât even bring himself to feel embarrassed. Heâs too nervous, too overwhelmed, too full of this godawful feeling. Jealousy, love, want. Itâs all mixed up inside, and he feels sick with it.
âYeah,â he finally manages to say. The word wrenches out of him, almost involuntary. Heâs not sure if a weight has lifted off his shoulders, or if he wishes he could take it back and melt into the floor.
The smile that blooms on your face is bright and joyous.
âYou really are an idiot,â you laugh. âAdrian, Iâve been in love with you since we were twelve. Iâve just been waiting for you to catch up.â
âIâWhat?â he says, flabbergasted, because this is not how he pictured his dramatic love confession going. He just poured his heart out, and youâre laughing at him. âYouâWhy didnât you say something?â
âI tell you I love you literally all the time, you doofus.â
âI thought you meant as a friend! How was I supposed toââ
âAdrian, are you going to keep rambling, or are you going to fucking kiss me already? I think Iâve waited long enough,â you interrupt.
Adrian lets out a breath thatâs been stuck in his chest for years. Since you were kids sitting around a table playing Dungeons and Dragons in his basement, before it was his Vigilante lair. Since the first time he can remember thinking you were beautiful, when you were fourteen, with melted strawberry ice cream smeared across your cheek.
All he can do is make a desperate choking noise and lean forward until he finally, finally feels your lips press against his.
It was going to be soft and sweet. It was. But then you sigh into his mouth, a release of tension, and he canât resist; he opens up for you, wet and deep and wanting. He wants to swallow you, to climb inside you and live there, and now he knows that heâs allowedâthat you want him the way that he wants you, in this all-consuming, unbearable, overwhelming wayâitâs almost too much.
Adrian tugs you into his lap, feels your weight settle onto him, close in a way that would make him squirm away if it were anyone else, but with you itâs comforting. The movement sends his popcorn tumbling to the floor, the metal bowl loud and clanking on the wood, and he could not give less of a fuck, because your hand on his jaw is sliding into his hair, gripping firmly to his curls, while your other lands on his neck, thumb pressed against his pulse point, right where his heart is racing so fast he thinks he might die.
He canât stop moving his handsâthey land on your waist, slide down to your thighs, brush against the hot, soft line of bare skin where your shirt rides up, and he hears your breath catch. You break away from his hungry lips with a gasp.
âAdrian,â you say. Youâve never said his name like that before. He wants you to say it again, wants to keep kissing you and never, ever stop.
âYeah,â he says, and he sounds absolutely wrecked. All youâve done is kiss him, and heâs devolved into a wanton mess.
âWe donât have to,â you continue. âI know you donât always likeâsoft touching, or sexââ
âItâs different,â he says quickly, hands tightening on your waist. He canât let you go on thinking for another moment that he doesnât want this. âWith you. Itâs different, I wantââ
His hips jolt upwards, a helpless grind to make you feel how much he wants you, and you say his name again, all raspy and longing, just like he wanted, and he groans.
Then youâre pressing on his chest, sending him back into the couch cushions as you push off of him and stand up. He panics for a minute, hands grasping at your clothesâhe doesnât want you to go, you canât go now, not when he finally has you like thisâbut you shush him.
âIâm not going anywhere,â you whisper, because you know him, and his racing mind steadies, just a bit. Then you take a tiny step back and reach for the hem of your shirt, and it goes into overdrive again.
âNo,â Adrian says hoarsely, hands shaking as he reaches forward. âI want to do it. Pleaseâplease, let meââ
âYes,â you say, and thatâs all he needs, scrambling to his feet. His fumbling hands settle on your waist, roam up and under your shirt, brush against the soft skin of your stomach. Then he tugs at the bottom of your shirt. You lift your arms and he pulls it over your head slowly, tossing it on the couch behind him.
He stares. You shiver under his intense gaze, suddenly nervous, and feeling a little ridiculous about it. Itâs Adrian. Heâs your best friend. He loves you, he just said so, and even before he did, you knew. Youâve known the whole time. But you still feel stripped bare, because heâs seeing you in a way he never has before, and he looksâhungry.
âYour turn,â you say, flustered, hands drifting up inside his shirt, trailing over his abs. Adrian swallows, shudders at the light touch of your fingertips on his skin, and reaches to grab his shirt at the back of his neck and yank it off.
When heâs shirtless in front of you, your eyes latch onto the muscles of his arm. One finger trails over his bicep, and he watches the motion.
âIâve wanted to fucking bite you, right here,â you tell him, âfor at least a decade.â
âOh, fuck,â he chokes out, and you dig your teeth into the muscle of his shoulder just as you brush your hand against the bulge in his jeans. âOh, my godââ
Adrian canât seem to manage to string together a coherent sentence, not as you flick open the button on his pants and fumble with the zipper, your mouth sucking a bruise into the skin of his arm all the while.
âOh, fuckâoh god, fuckââ
Heâs losing control of the situation. He canât function like this. So he wraps your hair in his fist and pulls, using the leverage to yank your mouth back to his, swallowing your noise of surprise. He grabs your hands and guides your arms up around his neck, then bends down to pick you up, strong hands supporting your thighs. You yelp, caught off guard.
âWhat theââ
âAre we going to fuck right now?â Adrian asks bluntly. Itâs a little frantic, tinged with want, his pupils blown wide as he looks up at you, hoisted in the air with your legs wrapped around his waist.
âI was under the impression, yes.â
âI donât have any condoms.â
âBedside drawer, baby.â
âFuck. Call me that again,â he whines, and you kiss him, long and deep. Your lips trail along his jawline, tongue tracing the shell of his ear, and it sends a shiver down his spine.
âBaby,â you whisper, giving him exactly what he wants, and his knees nearly give out. âTake me to bed.â
Youâve given him an order, and heâll be damned if he doesnât do exactly as heâs told.
Adrian considers himself a pretty solid, balanced person, at least physically, but youâve made him unsteady. He can still feel himself trembling with nerves, though he clutches you tightly as he walks you to your bedroom, determined not to drop you. It doesnât help that your lips wander the whole time, tongue darting out to lick the salty dip of his neck, a little nibble on the sensitive spot under his ear.
âIf you donât fucking stop thatââ
âMake me.â
He nearly trips over his own feet more than once before finally tossing you on the bed. You giggle at his desperation, reaching behind you to unclasp your bra and toss it aside, and Adrianâs jaw goes slack when you lay back against the pillows, waiting for him.
âYouâre so mean,â he says for the second time that night, breathless, hands working at the clasp of his belt and pushing his jeans down his legs until heâs left only in his underwear.
âYou love me anyway,â you say. Itâs your usual response, but this time it hits differently. Adrian pauses.
âI do,â he says, quiet and firm, and he crawls over you onto the bed, pushing you into the mattress as he kisses you, spreading his hands on your thighs and pushing your legs apart to make room for himself as his hips roll into yours. âGod, I amâjustâso fucking hard right nowââ
âI can tell,â you gasp, meeting his sloppy thrust with one of your own. The pressure is so, so, good, even through your leggings, butâ âFuck, Adrianâif you donât take my pants off in the next ten secondsââ
Then heâs pulling your leggings down, and between the wet, open-mouthed kisses he presses to your inner thighs, he pants, âFuck, babyâyouâre so fucking pretty like this, oh myâI thought I was gonna have toâfight Economos. First he stole my chainsaw kill, and I thought he gonna steal my girlââ
âOh my god, Adrian,â you groan, and he presses his tongue against you through your panties. Your hips buck off the bed. âJesus Christ, can you please stop talking about John while youâre getting me nakedââ
âSorry,â he says, a little sheepish, hooking his fingers into your underwear and sliding them down your legs.Â
Then his mouth attaches to your clit and sucks, and one finger slides through your folds and slips right inside you with absolutely no warning, and every rational thought youâve ever had leaves your mind entirely and a strangled noise wrenches out of you.
Adrian listens to the wrecked noise you make, watches you squirm, feels your thighs tighten around his head, pressing the metal frame of his glasses into his face, and a proud, possessive feeling roars up inside his chest, because he is the one making you feel this way.Â
Heâs spent so many years molding his body into a killing machine, into an instrument of vengeance, and for a long time, it felt like that was the most important thing could ever do. But suddenly thereâs this, and he knows that nothing could ever be more important than getting you to make that noise again.
âLet me hear those pretty noises,â he says, and he keeps at it, fucking you with his tongue, his fingers, and the whole time, he talks, the vibration of his ramblings radiating through you, every whispered and grunted curse fueling the heat that spreads under your skin.
Your little choked pants and gasps leave Adrian heady with the desire for more. When his callused fingertip grazes a sensitive spot inside you, you cry out, thighs trembling, tension coiling in your abdomen.
âDoes that feel good?â he asks eagerly. He slips another finger inside, spreading you open wider, and nudges for it again, and youâre so wet now that the slick and filthy sound of his thrusting fingers fills the room. You feel your cheeks heat.
âGod, oh god, yes.âÂ
Adrian glances up through his slightly fogged glasses, smiling. He watches with wide eyes as you nod fervently, one hand reaching to knead at your breast, and he reaches up to catch it in his, swat it away.
âNo,â he says, kissing up your abdomen, hand still moving between your thighs, thumb circling your clit. âLet meâdo it. I wantâI wantââ
He can have it. Whatever he wants, he can have it, because god, you are so fucking close.
His tongue trails over your breast, and now that heâs within reach, you grin, one hand tracing through his hair, fingernails scraping on his scalp. You can feel him shiver against you, exhale hot against your sensitive skin.
Your other hand drifts down, slips into his underwear, wraps around his bare cock, and squeezes.
âOh my god,â he says, eyes screwing shut. He goes entirely still, all the air punching out of his lungs. âJesus fucking Christ, holy fucking shiââ
You cut him off with a kiss, stroke him slowly, and snap at his waistband.
âTake these off for me, baby,â you murmur.
Adrian swallows, Adamâs apple bobbing right in your light of sight, and you canât help yourself, you lean up to nip at it. He hasnât breathed since youâve touched him, so you pause, take your hand off him, give him space for a moment. He follows your signal, fingers slipping out of you, and you bite your lip and try not to whine at the loss of him, clenching around the nothingness.
âTake a breath,â you instruct, and he sucks in air, harsh and sharp. Both your hands come to rest in his hair, scratching gently at his scalp, and it soothes him, just a little. âLook at me, Ade.â His eyes flutter open. âAre you okay?â
âYeah,â he rasps. âYeah, IâmâI wantââ
Itâs the second time heâs cut himself off. âWhat do you want, baby?â
âI just want you,â he pants. âI want you so bad.â
âYouâve got me, Adrian,â you say. âYouâve always had me.â
âI love you,â he whispers, and he dips down to kiss you, more urgently than he has all night. Itâs sloppy and rough; your teeth clack together, he sucks your tongue into his mouth, like heâs trying to consume you.
âWant you to fuck me,â you plead. âGod, please, Adrianââ
He shoves his underwear down and reaches over to the bedside drawer, fumbling around.
âWhere the fuckââ he mutters. âGoddamnit. Where are theâha!â He grins triumphantly when his fingers finally close around a foil-wrapped condom, holding it up for you like a prize.
âThatâs nice, baby,â you say, snatching it out of his grasp and ripping open the package, because youâve been on edge now for too long, and youâre starting to get impatient. âNow put it on and get inside me.â
âRight,â he says, rolling the condom on and lining himself up. âIâm gonna try so hard not to like, instantly cum, but I have been waiting for this, for, my whole life, basically, soââ
âIâm so goddamn close,â you groan, impatient, moving your hips and feeling him notch at your entrance. âI swear to god, Adrian, if you donât stick your fucking dick in me alreadyââ
âOkay, okay, Iââ He sinks into you slowly, watches his cock disappear inside you and loses his words, feels your soft warmth yield to him until heâs fully surrounded. Your legs around his waist, ankles pressing into his ass to draw him as close as he can get; your arms around his neck, holding his face against your throat where he whispers a breathy chant of repeated curses into your skin; your cunt fluttering around his cock, tight and hot and perfect.
You take a steadying breath, adjust to the feeling of him inside you, the way he stretches you, fills you. Then you shift your hips, just a little, and Adrian groans. You laugh, muscles clenching around him.
âGod, donât do that,â he says. âItâs already hard enough not toââ
âMove,â you tell him, and he does, an erratic snap of his hips that shoves you deep into the mattress. You make a noise of surprise, and itâs his turn to laugh.
Adrian should have expected it to be like this. Should have known that loving you would be easy. Should have done this weeks, months, years ago. It makes his heart swell in his chest, looking down at you smiling up at him, and he kisses you again. He canât help himself, overwhelmed with affection, grinning even as he feels your nails dig into the muscles of his shoulders.
You meet his rhythm with your own thrusts, every jerk of his hips met with the arching of your back. Adrian whimpers, whines, face falling forward until his forehead touches yours while he ruts against you.
ââm gonnaââ he chokes, âgonna cumââ One hand drifts between your legs, finds your clit, and his thumb starts circling, frantic. âNeed you toâI want to feel youââ
âSo good,â you pant, feeling yourself start to tip over the edge. âYouâmake me feel so good, babyâI love youââ
Itâs those three words that set him off, raspy in his ear, and just a moment later, he feels you convulse around him, writhe beneath him, his cock twitching as he spills into the condom, chest heaving. His muscles quiver, and he pulls out, lying down beside you before his arms give out and he collapses on top of you.
He turns his head to the side, watches your chest rise and fall as you catch your breath, and turns on to his side to wrap an arm around your waist. He tucks his face into your neck, licks and sucks at the skin there, because itâs too bare, too smooth. He needs to leave a mark, to prove he was here, to prove that youâre his, now. You just close your eyes and let him, hand brushing through his hair, sweat and slick drying salty on your skin.
You protest when he presses a final kiss to the fresh bruise he left on your neck and shifts to get out of bed, but he just kisses your forehead and says, âIâll be right back. Iâm gonna go clean myself up. And really, babe, you should go pee, I donât want you to get a UTIââ
You roll your eyes, but you laugh and follow him into the bathroom, leaning into his side because youâre tired, knees a little shaky, and you know heâll hold you up.
Eventually, you both tumble back into bed, still a little sticky and sweaty, but also spent and satisfied and happy. Adrian pulls you into his side, and you press a kiss to his chest, smiling, eyes fluttering closed.
Youâre on the edge of sleep when the rumble of Adrianâs voice rings out in the comfortable silence.
âIâm just saying,â Adrian says. âEconomos could neverââ
âOh my god. Shut the fuck upââ
Adrian wakes up to a soft kiss.
âMmm,â he hums, squinting at you, because his glasses are all the way over on the bedside table. âGood morning.â
âGood morning, baby,â you laugh, letting him tug you on top of him.
âAre we gonna fuck again right now?â he asks, a little sleepy, but absolutely ready to get going if thatâs what you want. His hands are already trailing down your sides, but you shake your head.
âNo,â you say apologetically. âEmilia just sent out an SOS. We need to be in the office for a debrief in twenty minutes.â
Adrian makes a face. âDo we have to?â
âYes,â you say firmly, and Adrian pouts.
âBut we could justâŚstay here,â he says. âIn bed. And not do that.â
âWe have to go,â you say. âCome on. The sooner we get there, the sooner weâll be back home, yeah? And then you can fuck me all you want. Promise.â
âFine,â he grumbles.
Twenty minutes later, youâre walking in the doors at Checkmate, joint hands swinging between you. Adrian wonât lie. Heâs a bit smug as he waits for everyone to notice. But no one even looks up from their desks, even when he clears his throat.
âMorning everyone,â you say, letting go of his hand so you can go grab yourself some coffee from the break room. âYou want a hot chocolate, Ade?â
He frowns, but nods, because you make the best hot chocolate.Â
He wishes you would call him baby. He wishes someone would look up at you and ask who gave you the bright purple hickey on your neck. You didnât even bother trying to hide it with makeup. He wishes he wasnât even here, sharing you with everyone in this godforsaken office, that he still had you home in bed, naked.
âDebrief in the conference room in five minutes,â Harcourt calls out.
Adrian sighs and decides to run to the bathroom before the meeting starts. But then, when he walks into the conference room a few minutes later, he feels like heâs going to lose it, because youâre sitting next to Economos. Itâs like youâre doing this on purpose.
âAre you fucking with me right now?â he whispers, grabbing you by the back of the shirt. He pulls you up out of the seat and takes it for himself. He thinks for half a second about just yanking you onto his lap in front of everyone, but decides that might be a bit too much, and he would probably get a really inconvenient boner. Instead, he shoves you into the seat right next to him and pulls the entire chair closer so your thighs are pressed together and he can hook his ankle around yours.
Then he looks down at you with a falsely innocent smile.
You give him a look like you know exactly what the fuck heâs doing, but you just roll your eyes, swapping your coffee mug with his cup of hot chocolate on the table in front of you.
âWhat the hell was that about?â Chris asks from across the table, because Adrian has not been subtle at all.
âOh, nothing,â Adrian shrugs. âI just really wanted to sit next to my good buddy Economos.â He reaches up to squeeze Johnâs shoulder, maybe a little too hard.
âOw! That hurt, motherfucker,â Economos says, looking at Adrian like heâs grown a second head.
âWould you cut it out?â you say, rolling your eyes and smacking Adrian in the back of the head. His glasses go a bit crooked. âYou donât need to stake your claim. I will gladly announce it to the table. Adrian and I are finally fucking, everyone.â
âJesus Christ, took you long enough,â Harcourt says.
âWhat?â Chris says, eyes wide.
âDid you really not know?â Ads asks, disbelieving. âTheyâve been all moony-eyed over each other for literal years, Chris.â
âDude, why didnât you tell me you liked her?â Chris says. âIâm your best friend!â
âHang on, why am I being involved in this?â John asks, bewildered, still rubbing at his shoulder.
âBecause I hugged you after the mission the other day, and Adrian couldnât contain his jealousy,â you smirk.
âSeriously, dude?â Economos scoffs.
âI thought it was, I donât know, a sexy hug!â
âWhat the fuck is a sexy hugââ
Adrian Tag list (comment or message me if you'd like to be added!): @snowyathena @justalotoffanfiction @danversxwasabi @clowninavan @obsessedromancereader @adoresami @a-young-g0d @bastardstevie

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trigger happy
Adrian Chase x fem!Reader
part nine
guys...there's only like. two more parts left after this!!!
tags/warnings: fluff, anxious!overprotective!Adrian (i love torturing this boy he gets so clingy), angst (im sorry) (not really mwahahaha)
Thank you @embeanwrites for the suggestions!!
part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | Masterlist
Sunday morning comes too soon. Youâve spent a week wrapped up in Adrian, tucked away in this little bubble. But tomorrow youâre going back to work, and so is he, and you can tell that itâs weighing on him, from the way he clutches at your hand, the way his eyes linger over you, the way he keeps stopping to kiss you.
You let him. Of course you let him. You linger in bed late into the morning, his mouth brushing against yours every five seconds, slow and firm, until your lips are swollen and wet, all the time trying to ignore the way that time passes around you.
âWeâre going on a date today,â he says against your mouth once you finally decide itâs time to get up. âFor real this time.â
It will be a date, but you know that for Adrian, it will also be kind of a test run.
The first time youâve really been out in public, around other people, since you were attacked in your apartment. Since your dad called. Since you learned that someone was trying to kidnap you. And before he lets you out of his sight tomorrow to go to work for the day, he needs this. To know that you can go out and have a normal day as a couple without any deadly interruptions.
You donât mention any of this. You just smile, kiss him again, and ask, âWhere are we going?â
âI debated it for a while,â Adrian says, still sounding uncertain. âNot the movies. Thereâs only one way in or out. I donât want us to get cornered if something happens.â
âI guess an escape room is out of the question,â you joke.
âYou want to go get locked in a room by a stranger right now? On purpose?â Adrian sputters. âAbsolutely not.â
âI was joking, baby. Even though Iâm sure you could pick all the locks anyway. But please, continue.â
âMini golf is out in the open, which leaves us too vulnerable. And the arcade gives people opportunities to sneak up on usâŚbut there are also lots of exits and places to hide.â
Youâre taken aback. âThatâsâŚa lot of things I would have never considered.â
âI think the arcade is ultimately our safest bet,â Adrian determines. âI talked to Chris last night, and he said he could come stake the place out while weâre inside, so we can relax and enjoy ourselves without looking over our shoulders the whole time.â
âOkay,â you agree, running a hand over his forehead to smooth out the worried furrow in his brow. You smile, lean in to kiss him on the cheek, and he accepts the affection, leaning further into your touch.
âSorry,â he says, arms circling your waist, tugging you on top of him in bed. âI know Iâm being a lot.â
âYouâre not being a lot,â you say, hugging him back. âYouâre being smart, and responsible, and a good boyfriend who is concerned about my safety, but also wants me to have fun. Come on. Letâs go get ready.â
Before you get in the car to leave, Adrian pops open his trunk and starts shoving weapons into practically every pocket he hasâa gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans at his back, pocket knives and switchblades folded into his jeans, pistols in the inner pocket of his winter coat.
The corner of your mouth quirks up as you think back to the first night you met him, watching him pull weapons out of all the hidden pockets on his suit. Watching him do the same thing in reverse is just as mind-boggling. Youâre still astonished at how many weapons he can manage to carry at one time without making it obvious, especially when heâs not even wearing the Vigilante suit.
He starts digging through the trunk, clearly looking for something, and growing agitated when he canât find it, sorting through an assortment of clinking metal ninja stars and tiny knives.
âWhatâs wrong?â you ask.
âItâs not here,â he mutters, tossing his machete aside. âWe have to make a pit stop at my house.â
âOkay,â you say easily. âWhatever you need, honey.â
Adrian opens the passenger door for you, still frowning a bit, eyes distant. Heâs nervous, foot tapping anxiously, fingers drumming on the top of the open door. Before you get in the car, you tap a hand on his cheek. You brush his hair out of his face, tilt his head and make him meet your eyes.
âHey. Iâm really excited to go out and have fun with you.â
And you are. You think back to afternoons spent in the woods, squinting at the red visor, wanting him, wondering if you could ever have anything more. Now itâs here, at your fingertips, and despite everything thatâs happening, you are so, so happy.
Adrian smiles down at you, cheeks squishing between your hands. âMe too.â
âThank god,â Adrian mutters as he pulls up to the curb, frowning at the empty driveway. âI thought my mom might be home.â
âIâm gonna have to meet her eventually,â you say. He looks like heâs in physical pain at the thought.
âToday is not that day,â he says, relieved. âCome on. I just need to grab something really quick.â
âDo I get to finally see your top secret Vigilante headquarters?â you ask, hanging on his arm as he unlocks the door. He grins.
âYou do,â he says. He leads you inside, down a staircase to a plain white door with three locks and a red-lettered No Admittance sign. He starts making his way down the deadbolts one by one, until finally, he turns the knob and the door swings open.
You are not prepared for what you see when he flicks the lights on.
âAdrian, what the fuck?â you cry. âIs that cocaineâare youâwhatââ
âIt is,â he confirms, like itâs not a big deal at all, pushing you inside and shutting the door behind you both. He makes his way over to a work bench and starts opening drawers, muttering to himself. âItâs gotta be here somewhere.â
âAdrian!â you cry, still looking around the room at the pallets of drugs andâis that cash? âWhy do you have so much fucking cocaine andâgod, thereâs got to be what, millions of dollars in here? Why is all this just sitting in your basement? Where did it come from? You are a busboy.â
âEvery time I bust a drug ring or whatever, I take all the shit and put it here,â he says, a little oblivious to your breakdown because heâs still searching for whatever the hell heâs looking for. âIâm not gonna turn it over to the cops, those guys are corrupt as fuck!â
âOh my god,â you say, looking around the room. âYou are insane. Like, I knew that already, but Jesus Christ, honeyââ
âFound it!â he says, holding up the object of his treasure hunt. Itâs a medium-sized blade, silver steel, with a pretty teal marble hilt and a black sheath.
âYou have all those knives in your trunk. Why did you need that one?â you ask, bewildered. The fact that Adrian made a pit stop hereârisked seeing his mom, on this day when time already feels like itâs dwindling away, doesnât make any sense to you at all. âI mean, itâs really pretty, butââ
âFor you,â Adrian says, holding it out to you hilt first. âItâs my favorite one. Itâs yours now.â
You stare at him, at the weapon in his hands, and you donât even know what to say. But he looks at you so earnestly.
âYou canâtââ you protest. âIâm not taking your favorite knife, Adrian. Itâsâthatâs so beautiful, I couldnât take that from youââ
âYou promised me,â he says, voice rough as he tries to swallow past some emotion. âYou promised me that when we left the trailer and went out in public, you would have a weapon on you at all times. You are taking the knife.â
âI will gladly take a knife,â you say, gesturing around the room, at the rack of blades heâs got hanging against a wall next to his work bench. âYouâve got, like, eight thousand knives, Ade. I know you do. Whyââ
âYou have to take this one,â he says, a little hoarsely, looking at you with wide, pleading eyes. âItâs like, my lucky knifeâand I donât even know ifâgod. This is going to sound stupid. I donât even know if I believe in luck, but if it is real then I wantâI need you to have it. It will make me feel better if you do.â
He presses the hilt of the blade into your palm, and uses his own hand to close your fingers around it. You hear him exhale, see some tension leave his body, just at the sight of you holding it.
âAdrian,â you say quietly, looking down at your hand holding the blade, at his hands holding yours. Then he brings his hands up to your face, cups your cheeks, and the way he looks at you makes your heart swell.
âThis isâyou areâtoo important,â he whispers. âI donât want to take any risks. So please take it. For me.â You just nod, and he tilts your head down to kiss your forehead.
âOkay.â You glance down at your own outfit. âBut honeyâŚthere is no way this thing is going to fit in any of my pockets.â
âFucking womenâs clothing,â Adrian mutters. âHang on.â
An hour later, youâre walking hand in hand with Adrian up to the entrance of the arcade. Youâre wrapped up in one of Adrianâs hoodies, your new knife tucked into the deep front pocket. Itâs not your finest or sexiest first-date outfit, but. Extenuating circumstances.
Chris trails a few yards behind you. He lingers at the entrance as you walk inside, nodding and smiling at you.
âHave fun, guys,â he says.
âYouâll let me know ifââ
âAdrian, if you donât shut the fuck up and go show your girlfriend a good time, then I will.â
You laugh. âThank you Chris.â Even Adrian smiles a bit, and you drag him inside.
Itâs a bit chaotic and loud, between the chiming musical noises of the game machines and the chattering of the crowd, and you notice Adrianâs eyes darting all over the place, catching on every exit, scanning the face of every adult man in the crowd. Heâs on edge.
âHey. Chris is here, heâs got our backs,â you remind him. âItâs okay.â
âI know,â he says, sounding like heâs reassuring himself. âThereâs justâŚmore people here than I thought there would be. Itâs usually dead on Sunday afternoons, I donât know whyââ
âLooks like a birthday party,â you point out, looking at a group of kids running around near the prize counter. âI donât think those toddlers with cake all over their faces are here to assassinate me.â
âThatâs not even funny,â Adrian says, but the corner of his mouth quirks up. âToddlers can kill people, just like anyone else.â
You picture a tiny Adrian wobbling around this place with a gun in one hand and a fistful of arcade tickets in another. âRight. Equal opportunity murder, and all that. Iâm sure the mob is accepting baby applications on a rolling basis. Youâd better watch your back, honey. How many toddlers can you take on at once?â
âAre we talking one after another? All at once? Do I have any weapons?â he asks, seriously considering.
âAll at once. No weapons, just you.â
âMaybeâŚtwelve?â
âNo fucking way.â
âWhy am I fighting these toddlers? What crime did they commit?â
âCrayon graffiti.â
He laughs outright, and you beam, pleased, as he finally seems to relax into the moment.
âSo,â you say, elbowing him in the side. âAre you gonna show me all your high scores, or what? I bet I can beat you at skee ball.â
âGood luck with that, babe,â he scoffs, and you know youâve got him now.Â
Adrian will never back down from a challenge without a fight. He never lets you win at anything, makes you really work for it. The first time youâd bested him at target practice in the woods, youâd lived off that high for three weeks.
Youâll live off the high of this day for a while, too. You have the best day youâve had in a long time. You run around the arcade giggling like a little kid. You take pictures in the photobooth in the corner and make out like teenagers. Adrian makes you play every single machine in the buildingâone turn for him, one turn for you, tallying up each of your wins the whole afternoon to see who will come out on top, collecting armfuls of colorful paper tickets the whole time.
âHa!â you cry when you score higher than him on a sniper game, taking out more digital aliens than him. You jump up and down, pointing at him with your plastic laser gun.âI beat you! I actually beat you! At the gun game!â
âDamnit!â he says, but heâs laughing the whole time. âHow the fuck did you do that? I literally have the high score on this machine! I came here all the time to work on my aim before I could afford to buy real guns.â
âWhat can I say,â you tease, leaning back against the machine and tugging on the lapels of his jacket to draw him in. âI had a pretty good teacher.â
Adrian kisses you, grinning the whole time, nose bumping against yours, and for the first time in a few days, it feels light, weightless. Heâs kissing you because he can, because he wants to, like the first time, that night in his bed. Heâs kissing you because heâs your boyfriend and youâre out on a date and youâre having fun, not because heâs desperate to hold you close and keep you there and make sure no one takes you away.
âCome on,â you say when he pulls away, laughing when he continues pecking kisses all over your face. âThat was the last game. Weâve played literally every machine in here. Tell me who won.â
âPrizes first,â Adrian says excitedly. âWe should choose for each other! Make it a surprise!â
âOoh yes! Me first!â You start heading toward the prize counter, but Adrian grabs you by the back of your hoodie before you even make it two steps.
âWhere do you think youâre going, all by yourself?â he chides. He glances over toward the entrance and waves over at Chris, who cocks an eyebrow but makes his way over to you.
âWhatâs up?â
âWeâre picking out surprise prizes for each other,â you explain. âAnd Adrian says I need a trusted adult to go up to the counter with me.â
âI donât know if anyone has ever considered me a trusted adult before,â Chris says, âbut okay.â
Chris walks up with you to the prize counter, hands in his pockets, eyes roaming. He really has been keeping an eye on the place while you and Adrian have been having fun.
âHey,â you say. âThank you for doing this for him. He really needed this.â
âIâm doing it for you, too,â Chris says, smiling. âJust so you know.â
You donât answer him, but you smile to yourself as you lean against the glass counter with your half of the tickets, handing them over to the attendant.
âAnything from here,â the guy gestures to a section of the display. You scan your options, see what you want, and smile.
âRight there, please. The blue and black set?âÂ
âOh, heâs gonna fucking love those,â Chris says as the employee hands over the items you asked for. âHeâs such a nerd about that kind of thing.â
You tuck them into your pocket, next to the knife he had given you earlier.
âYour turn, honey!â you call back to Adrian, and he rushes over.
âWhat did you pick?â he asks eagerly. âShow me, show me!â
âNot yet,â you grin, walking away with Chris.
âHe really likes you,â Chris observes.
âI really like him,â you admit. âIââ
âHere you go!â Adrian says, walking over to you with a massive teal teddy bear the size of his torso. He deposits it in your arms, beaming at you.
âAdrianâŚwhat?â you ask, straining your neck to look at him around the giant stuffed animal. âWe did not earn that many tickets.â
âI had some saved up on my account,â he explains. âI mostly just come here to play the games. And look! I used the leftovers for this!â He holds out a little paper finger trap. You giggle.
âNice choice, Ade.â
âGuys, I think theyâre closing up,â Chris says.
The place has emptied out significantly. Families with younger kids all left much earlier, and the only people left are a couple teenagers playing Guitar Hero in the corner.
âRight,â Adrian says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. âLetâs get you home.â
Back at the trailer, you can see it as Adrianâs anxiety about the coming week starts to creep back in. Heâs clingier than he has been all week, which is really saying something, andâmaybe youâre enabling him, but youâre clinging back.
You reach for his hand when you get up from the couch, even if youâre just going to get a drink. You lean back into him when his arms wrap around your waist as you microwave leftover takeout for dinner.
And when you see him settling down in his usual spot outside the bathroom door while youâre getting ready to take a shower, you say, âWill you come in with me?â
âCan I?â he rasps.
âI want you to,â you say, and Adrian sighs, a breath of relief, like heâs been waiting all week for you to ask. You let him undress you, catalog your healing bruises, step under the hot stream of water with you and help you get clean. When youâre done, and he wraps you up in a towel and puts you in his pajamas, not yours, you donât say a word, just breathe in the scent of him surrounding you and sit on the edge of the mattress while he gets himself ready for bed, too.
âHey,â you say softly, once heâs dressed. He puts his glasses on as he looks up at you. âBring me the hoodie I was wearing earlier?â
Adrian reaches for it and hands it over to you, and you dig into the pocket and pull out the two tiny things you picked out at the arcade. You hold one out to him.
âMy prize,â you whisper.
He stares down at them, eyes shining with some unknown emotion, and sinks onto the bed next to you.
âFriendship bracelets?â he asks, voice cracking. Itâs nothing fancy. Two black and blue corded friendship bracelets with tiny, matching silver heart charms. But Adrian looks at them like youâve just handed him something made of gold.
âDo you like it?â you ask.
âGive me your hand,â he says, and you hold out your arm for him. He ties your bracelet around your wrist, knots it as tightly as he can. Then he holds out his own wrist for you expectantly, eyes wide and shining. You smile softly and return the favor, tying a tight double-knot.
âPerfect,â you say, looking up into his eyes.
âI love it,â Adrian says, but heâs not looking down at the bracelet. Your breath hitches. Itâs not an admission, not really, but it feels like one.
He swallows. âTomorrowââ
âDonât,â you interrupt. You smile, shift yourself onto his lap, feel his hands splay across your back to hold you firmly against him. âWe hadâthe best day today. Donât let tomorrow ruin it. Just be with me, right now.â
âOkay,â Adrian agrees.
You close your eyes, feel him tuck his chin on top of your head, and let him hold on to you for as long as he needs to.
On Monday morning, Adrian pouts.Â
He pouts as he watches you pack your bag for work. He pouts as you get into the passenger seat of his car. He pouts as he drives you there. He pouts when he puts the car in park, and he looks over at you, giving you a final, pleading look.
âIâm going inside,â you say with finality. He sighs as you dig through your bag for your ID badge, nerves settling a bit when he peeks inside and sees that youâve tucked his lucky knife into one of the pockets. âLook on the bright side. You donât have to hide in the bushes in the parking lot anymore. You can justâŚwalk me to the front door.â
Adrian smiles, but it doesnât quite reach his eyes. âYeah. Yeah, I can.â
And he doesâhe carries your bag for you, he holds your hand, maybe a little too tightly, charms from your brand new friendship bracelets clinking together as you walk. He cups your cheeks and kisses you firmly when you reach the front of the building.
âChris and Ads are picking you up at five and dropping you off at the restaurant,â he reminds you. âMy shift ends at eight. Everyoneâs swinging by the trailer tonight for a regroup.â
âI know. I am, in fact, also in the group chat.â
âRightâI know that. I justââ
âHey,â you say softly. âItâs gonna be okay. Iâm literally going to be sitting at my desk all day catching up on emails from last week. Iâm not leaving the building. I wonât strain myself. The door locks automatically, no one goes in or out without securityâs approval. Iâll be safe. I promise.â
âOkay,â he says grudgingly. Heâs still holding your face in his hands, brushing his thumbs over your cheeks. âIâll see you later.â
You kiss him again before he goes. Then he lets his hands fall to his sides reluctantly so you can step back and open the door. He waits to hear the click of the lock behind you before he walks back to the car.
When you get to your desk and look out the window, heâs still sitting in the parking lot. You sigh and pull out your phone.
Are you really going to sit there all day?
Iâm gonna sit out here until I have to go to work at noonđ§
You sigh, but you know thereâs no convincing him otherwise. He still lingered outside the door this morning while you were in the bathroom. The fact that both of you are returning to work today is completely throwing off the routine of the last week, and you know itâs making him anxious. Honestly, your stomach is churning a bit too, but youâre doing your best to hold it together for his sake.
It was his turn to have a nightmare last night. You didnât let him know that he woke you upâyou didnât want him to feel guilty. But when you felt him jolt up in bed, youâd shifted closer to him, cuddled up to his side, and waited for his heart rate to slow down before you let yourself fall back asleep.
So if it will make him feel better to sit in the parking lot for a couple hours, youâll let him. Youâll even make sure to stay by the window so he can see you the whole time. He has done so, so much for you over the last week and a half, and if you can make this transition easier for him, youâre going to do it.
And maybeâŚit makes you feel better, too, looking out the window and seeing him waiting there. Knowing heâs watching, just like he had been all those months ago when you still only knew him as Vigilante. Maybe itâs not healthy, this level of attachment, this early in a relationship. But considering the way you and Adrian met, your relationship would never have been any kind of normal anyway.
He calls you at 11:55.
âHey,â you say when you pick up, glancing out the window. Heâs gotten out of the car, walked closer to the building. You stand up, too, walk right up to the glass, and wave. He smiles.
âHey,â he says, and the way his voice sounds through the phone reminds you of the way it used to sound, muffled through the Vigilante suit. âI have to go now.â
âIâm going to be okay,â you tell him, placing your hand on the window.
âYouâll text me?â he asks, apprehensive and uneasy. âJustâŚupdate me, throughout the day?â
âEvery hour on the dot,â you promise.
âI loââ he starts, but then he stops himself, shakes his head. âIâll see you tonight, okay?â
âYeah,â you say. âIâll see you tonight. At the restaurant. You can save me a seat at whatever booth you want, so you can keep an eye on me for the last part of your shift, and point out all your shitty coworkers youâve told me stories about, and Iâll kiss you in front of all of them and they will all be super jealous.â
He laughs. âThat sounds perfect.â
âBye, honey,â you say.
âBye, baby.â
You stand at the window and watch as he gets in the car and drives away.
Five minutes later, 12:00 on the dot, you text him, I miss you. You pause and smile to yourself, and add in a đŚâđĽfor old timeâs sake.
He responds just a few minutes later. I miss you too. Be safe đđ§
Like you promised Adrian, itâs an otherwise uneventful day. You spend the entire time sitting at your desk, and the time passes in a blur of catching up on the work you missed last week, and hourly updates to Adrian, who sends you back an obsessively long string of emoji hearts every time.
Chris texts you that he and Ads are on their way at 4:45, and you pack up your things at 4:55 and head outside to wait for them.
As you stand on the sidewalk, you start to type up your final update to Adrian before you see him in just a few minutes.Â
Iâll see you soon, honey đЎ
Youâre about to hit send when you hear the footsteps approaching directly behind you. You shove your phone in your bag and reach for the knife, fingers closing around the teal hilt of the special blade Adrian had given you yesterday.
But you donât get the chance to use it, even as you pull it out. It all happens so fast, you donât even see your attacker. Thereâs a sharp prick at the back of your neck, and in seconds, everything goes dark. The last thing you see is Adrianâs knife clattering on the concrete.
Taglist: @maple-m0th @toocoldbestie @clowninavan @agustdboyoongie @bastardstevie @whimsicalforestfairy @eugene-emt-roe @a-young-g0d @lanadelreybbgg @teengirlsacrifice @trelaney @softersoftest @cosmickid-inmotion @pulverized2dust @sumoattack-gooddog @under-stardust @feralamdtiredrat @tezzzzzzzz @jeshomie @deepblizzarddreaming @nobodylikeslia @am-3-thyst
i am shrieking at a pitch So High you would think i were a cicada. like omfggg loving this plot, the arcade date is adorbs of course. and adrian just sitting outside our building for hours is hilarious lmfaoo but its also very sweet. the almost "i love you"s. the END????? we waited outside????!?!!?! its like watching a horror movie where someone goes down to the basement like DONT DO IT GIRLLLL omfg i have FEELINGS about this chapter. i look forward to tuesdays now cause i know we'll be fed a juicy update <333
goal achieved I wanted yall to be shrieking đ so excited for you to read next week lolol
me and canonly accurate adrian chase
he is my wife
Sliding James Gunn a ÂŁ20 note and asking him to put Adrian in another project soon bc I yearn for him as one would their husband who is at war
I wish they were real
i take care of you!
pairing: adrian chase x ER nurse!reader
summary:
word count: 3.1k
extra: not beta read, we die like real men. based on this idea of mine. adrian is lowk a creep in this but he means well okay <333
main masterlist
evergreen isnât the kind of town people disappear from.
itâs the kind of town where the grocery store clerk knows your coffee order, where traffic lights feel unnecessary, where the emergency room is quiet enough at night that you can hear the vending machine hum if you listen hard enough. you took the job here because it promised calm. predictable. safe.
and for the most part, it is.
which is why you notice him the first time he walks in.
itâs late in your shiftâalmost three in the morningâwhen the automatic doors slide open and let in a man who looks like he took a wrong turn somewhere between cosplay convention and midlife crisis. heâs tall, broad-shouldered, dressed casually but strangelyâlike he dressed himself in the dark and decided confidence would carry him the rest of the way. he doesnât look hurt. he doesnât look sick.
he looks curious.
he approaches the desk with an easy grin, rests his elbows on the counter like youâre already friends.
âhey,â he says. âquick question.â
you blink. âare you a patient?â
ânot right now,â he says cheerfully. âbut, let us just say hypotheticallyââ
you sigh internally. hypotheticals never end well. âwhatâs your question?â you ask anyway.
he leans closer, lowering his voice like heâs about to tell you a secret. âwhich artery makes people bleed out the fastest?â
you stare at him.
he watches you stare. completely unbothered.
ââŚexcuse me?â
âlike,â he continues, gesturing vaguely with his hands, âif someone were to get stabbedâaccidentally, obviouslyâwhere would be the worst place? time-wise.â
your mouth opens. closes. opens again. âsir,â you say carefully, âif youâre asking about harming someoneââ
âno, no,â he interrupts. ânot harming. research.â
âresearch for what?â
he thinks about it for a moment, then smiles wider. âwriting, in a mary shelley-esque bet.â that tracks, somehow.
you give him a flat look. âwe canât answer questions like that.â
âoh. okay.â he nods, unfazed. âwhat about freezer burn?â
you pause. ââŚwhat about it?â
âwhat temperature does it start at?â
you rub your temple. âwhy?â
âdetails matter.â
you consider calling security. but evergreen trauma medical center doesnât really have securityâjust a bored cop who naps in his cruiser outside the diner. and the man in front of you doesnât feel threatening. he feels⌠earnest. like a golden retriever with homicidal curiosity.
âi can tell you about frostbite,â you say. âfreezer burn isnât something we covered in school.â
âperfect.â
and just like that, youâre explaining tissue damage and temperature thresholds to a stranger whose eyes light up every time you say something technical. he listens like itâs the most fascinating thing heâs ever heard, nodding along, asking follow-up questions that are way too specific for comfort.
when you finish, he beams. âyouâre really smart,â he says.
ââŚthanks.â
âiâm adrian,â he adds, holding out his hand.
you hesitate, then shake it. âyou canât keep coming in here just to ask questions.â
he grins. âwatch me.â
he leaves a few minutes later, waving like heâll see you tomorrow.
you assume you wonât.
youâre wrong.
adrian becomes a fixture.
he always comes in lateâafter the rush, when the ER is quiet enough that you can hear the heart monitors beep in rhythm. sometimes he brings coffee. sometimes he brings pastries from the bakery downtown. he never pretends to be a patient. he never crosses a line.
he just asks questions.
sometimes theyâre harmless.
âwhat happens if you stay awake for too long?â
âcan adrenaline really make you lift a car?â
âdo people feel pain differently when theyâre scared?â
other times⌠not so much.
âhow long can someone survive with internal bleeding if they donât know itâs happening?â
âwhatâs the difference between a bruise from a fall and one from being grabbed?â
âis it possible to snap a neck without killing someone?â
you start answering selectively. carefully. you tell yourself heâs a writer. a true crime author, maybe. or a screenwriter. youâve met weirder. hell, youâve dated weirder.
you donât notice when the ER starts to feel⌠safer.
it was always safe, technically. evergreen doesnât see much violent crime, aside from the random attacks from the masked crusader who calls himself vigilante (who names themself after their job?). but little things change.
dr. shen mentions a patient who made a crude comment, who lingered too close, who made her uneasy in a way she canât quite explain. you nod sympathetically, offer solidarity. a few weeks later, you see his face on a missing person poster taped to a lamppost outside the grocery store.
you feel a flicker of discomfort. then you shrug it off. people leave town all the time.
nurse callahan complains about a regular who gets handsy when heâs drunk. you roll your eyes with her, promise to keep an eye out next time. there is no next time.
the woman with the bruisesâthe one who always says she fell, who avoids eye contact, who comes in every few weeks like clockworkâstops coming in altogether. months pass before you see her again, laughing in a coffee shop, hair freshly cut, eyes bright. she tells you her husband left town suddenly. just packed up and vanished.
you smile. wish her well.
your motherâs voice echoes in your head: bad things happen to bad people.
you donât connect the dots. you donât notice the red visor watching from rooftops when you clock out at ungodly hours after swapping shifts with other nurses.
you donât notice how adrianâs posture changes when you vent about a patient who scared you. you donât notice how carefully he listens.
but adrian notices everything.
you start to look for him without meaning to.
itâs subtle at firstâjust a flicker of disappointment when the doors donât slide open at the usual time slot, a moment of anticipation when they do. adrian never comes in during chaos. he always waits until evergreen settles into its nightly hush, when the ER lights feel too bright for how empty the waiting room is.
tonight, heâs late.
youâre halfway through charting when you hear footsteps and glance up instinctively. heâs there, leaning against the counter like he belongs behind it, not in front of it. heâs wearing a hoodie tonight, sleeves pushed up, hair a mess like he ran his hands through it too many times.
âhey,â he says.
you relax without realizing you were tense. âyouâre late.â
âyeah.â he grins. âgot⌠held up.â
you donât ask by what.
he peers past you at the quiet ER. âslow night?â
âalways,â you hum in response. âthatâs evergreen for you.â
âgood,â he says softly. then, louder: âso! question.â
of course. you close the chart and face him. âif this is about arteries againââ
ânope.â he raises his hands in surrender. âthis oneâs about bruises.â
you pause. âbruises.â
âyeah. likeââ he gestures vaguely at your arm. âhow long does it take before they show up? after someone gets grabbed.â
your stomach tightens. âdepends,â you say slowly. âforce, location, the person. why?â
he shrugs, too casual. âjust wondering how people miss them.â
you donât like the way he says that. like itâs personal.
before you can respond, dr. shen walks past, clipboard tucked under her arm. adrianâs gaze flicks to her automaticallyâsharp, assessing. noticing the way her shoulders stiffen when she spots him, the way she speeds up.
he notices things.
âyou okay?â he asks you, eyes still tracking her retreat.
âyeah,â you say, though youâre not sure why he asked. âwhy?â
he hums. âshe seems⌠tense.â
you snort. âthatâs residency.â
âmm,â he says, unconvinced.
he asks a few more questionsâlighter ones this time, about sleep deprivation, about why some people faint at the sight of blood and others donât. eventually, your shift ends.
âyou walking out?â he asks.
you nod, grabbing your bag. âyeah.â
âiâll walk with you,â he says, like itâs a given.
outside, the air is cool and still. the parking lot is mostly empty, streetlights buzzing softly. you donât think twice about letting adrian fall into step beside you. he keeps a respectful distance. always does.
âyou ever feel unsafe here?â he asks suddenly.
the question catches you off guard. âwhat?â
âin evergreen,â he clarifies. âat work.â
you think about it. about missing posters. about hands that lingered too long. about bruises explained away.
ââŚnot really,â you say. âwhy?â
âno reason.â he smiles. âjust curious.â
he stops at the edge of the lot. watches you unlock your car.
ânight,â he says.
ânight, adrian.â
you donât notice the way he waits until youâre inside before he leaves.
the first time you almost connect the dots, itâs because of nurse callahan.
she corners you in the break room, eyes wide, voice low. âdid you hear?â
âhear what?â
âthat guy,â she says. âthe drunk who kept grabbing me. they found his car abandoned outside town.â
your heart stutters. âwhat?â
âyeah. keys still inside. wallet too.â she shivers. âcreepy, right?â
you force a laugh. âguess he skipped out on some debts or something.â
âguess so,â she says. then, quieter: âgood riddance.â
that night, adrian comes in whistling.
you watch him more closely than usual as he leans on the counter, asks you about concussions. he seems lighter. happier.
âbusy night?â you ask.
ânah,â he says. âpretty productive, though.â
your pulse ticks up. âproductive how?â
he grins. âoh, you know. got some stuff done.â
you study his face. thereâs no guilt there. no hesitation. just an easy warmth directed entirely at you.
you tell yourself youâre imagining things.
it becomes a pattern.
every time someone at work scares youâreally scares youâsomething happens to them.
a man who threatens a tech disappears.
a belligerent drunk who throws a chair gets arrested for something unrelated and never comes back.
you never see adrian do anything. you never hear him confess. but he always seems to know.
âyou okay?â he asks one night, after you finish recounting a patient who made your skin crawl.
âyeah,â you say, tired. âjust⌠people suck sometimes.â
âthey donât have to,â he says mildly.
you laugh. âthatâs optimistic.â
he tilts his head. âis it?â
thereâs something in his eyes then. something sharp behind the friendliness. like a blade wrapped in velvet.
you should be afraid.
instead, you feel safe.
the night everything clicks is quiet. too quiet.
youâre walking out later than usual, parking lot empty, when you hear footsteps behind you.
you tense.
âhey,â adrian says quickly. âsorry! didnât mean to scare you.â
you exhale, embarrassed. âyou didnât.â
he falls into step beside you, closer than usual. you can smell metal on him. iron.Â
blood.
you stop.
he stops too. instantly.
âadrian,â you say slowly. âare you hurt?â
he blinks. âwhat?â
âyou smell like blood.â
a beat. then he smiles. âoh,â he says lightly. âyeah. that!â
your heart starts pounding. âthat what?â
he studies your face, something calculating flickering behind his eyes. then he sighs. âi was hoping you wouldnât notice yet.â
your breath catches. ânotice what?â
he steps closer. not threatening. intimate. âthat i take care of things,â he says softly. âfor the doctors and nurses here. for you.â
the parking lot feels suddenly very empty.
âwhat does that mean?â you whisper.
he reaches outâslowly, giving you time to pull awayâand brushes his thumb against your wrist, right over your pulse.
âit means,â adrian says, voice warm, reverent, âthat nobody who hurts you gets to keep doing it.â
the world tilts.
âyouâre joking,â you say. âthis isâthis is some writer thing, right?â
he chuckles. âoh, i am a writer.â
your stomach drops. âof what?â
âjustice,â he says brightly. and then, like he canât help himself, he adds: âalso murder.â
your pulse is a roar in your ears. âyouâre serious?â you breathe.
he nods. âyeah.â
silence stretches between you.
âyouâve been watching me,â you say.
âprotecting,â he corrects. âthereâs a difference.â
âthere really isnât.â
he shrugs. âagree to disagree.â
you should run. instead, you ask, âwhy me?â
his expression softens in a way thatâs almost frightening. âbecause,â he says, like itâs obvious, âyou save people. you care. you listen. and the world keeps trying to hurt you anyway.â
he leans closer, forehead nearly touching yours.
âi wonât let that happen.â
your knees feel weak.
âyouâre not scared,â he observes, delighted.
âi should be,â you whisper.
âbut youâre not.â
âno,â you admit. âiâm not.â
his smile is slow. possessive. âgood! because i really like you.â
you donât sleep that night.
you lie in bed staring at the ceiling, replaying his words over and over until they lose meaning and then regain it all at once.
âi take care of things for you.â
every instinct you haveâevery training, every ethical boundaryâscreams that you should report him. that you should quit. that you should run as far away from evergreen as possible.
but another part of you, quieter and far more dangerous, keeps inventory.
youâve walked to your car alone for months without fear. no one touches you at work anymore. the people who made your skin crawl are gone.
and adrian never once crossed a line with you.
when he shows up the next night, youâre already waiting.
he hesitates when he sees your expressionâguarded, serious, no hint of your usual tired amusement.
â...okay,â he says carefully. âyou look like youâre about to either punch me or ask me out. iâm hoping for the second one.â
âsit,â you say.
he does exactly as you tell him to. he always does.
you fold your arms. âhow long?â
he exhales. âhow long what?â
âhow long have you been doing this,â you say. âfor me.â
he doesnât joke. doesnât deflect. he looks at you like this matters.
âa few months,â he admits. âsince the guy who cornered you by the supply closet.â
your stomach drops. âyou saw that?â
âi heard it,â he says. âyour voice changed.â
that sends a chill straight through you.
âyou followed me,â you say.
âi watched,â he corrects. âthereâs a difference!â
âstop saying that.â
he winces. âokay. yeah. fair.â
you lower your voice. âhow many people, adrian?â
he tilts his head, considering. âthatâs⌠a loaded question. i mean, i've got a bet going with my friend about who can get the coolest one, so i keep trying stuff. and because iâve liked, saved the world a couple times, and iâve been to alternate dimensionsââ
âanswer it.â
âdo you want the number,â he asks gently, âor do you want to keep sleeping at night?â
your jaw tightens.
âthatâs what i thought,â he murmurs.
you should feel disgust. horror. fear.
instead, you feel something dangerously close to relief.
âyou donât get to decide who lives or dies,â you say, even as your voice wavers.
he nods. âyouâre right.â
that surprises you.
âi donât want to,â he continues. âbut someone has to. and iâm really good at it! itâs like a total win-win situation for everyone.â
you swallow. âwhat if youâre wrong?â
âiâm not,â he says immediately. then softer: âbut if i ever was⌠iâd stop.â
you meet his eyes. âfor what? or even who?â
âfor you.â
the weight of that settles heavy in your chest.
âyou scare me,â you admit.
his mouth quirks. âyeah, no, that tracks. like, i totally see where youâre coming from. iâd honestly be a little more worried for you than usual if you werenât scared of me!â
âbut,â you add, barely audible, âyou make me feel safe.â
something in adrianâs expression breaks open at thatâsomething raw and unguarded. âi work really hard at that,â he says quietly.
silence stretches between you, thick with everything unsaid.
âyou canât keep doing this,â you whisper.
âi can,â he says. âbut i wonât if you tell me not to.â
you search his face for a lie. find none.
ââŚi donât want to know,â you say finally.
his brows knit together. âwhat?â
âi donât want details. i donât want names. i donât want blood on my hands by association.â you steady yourself. âbut i wonât turn you in, because youâre him arenât you? youâre that vigilante guy. you take down the actual bad guys.â
relief floods his face so fast it almost knocks him over.
âalso,â you continue, heart pounding, âif i say someone scares meâreally scares meâyou donât act unless i ask. those are my terms.â
he nods immediately. âdeal.â
âyou swear?â
âi swear,â he says. âon⌠you? i really hate my mom, so if i swear on her that means nothing. but on you, it means something.â
that shouldnât mean anything.
it does.
evergreen never notices the difference.
thatâs the thing about safetyâitâs invisible when it works.
life settles into something that almost looks normal. you work. you sleep. you come home. adrian starts showing up at your place with alarming regularity, like a stray cat that figured out your schedule and decided it lived there now.
he learns your routines.
which mug you always reach for first. how you kick your shoes off by the door. the way you hum under your breath when youâre exhausted but trying not to be.
âyou know,â you tell him one night, watching him fold laundry like itâs a sacred ritual, âmost people would find this creepy.â
he glances up, visor-less, soft-eyed. âmost people donât deserve you.â
you snort. âthatâs not how that works.â
âsure it is,â he says. âyouâre the baseline.â
he makes dinner. nothing fancyâpasta, mostlyâbut he insists on cutting vegetables with surgical precision. you watch his hands more than you should.
âyou ever wish things were simpler?â you ask.
he considers. âno.â
âreally?â
âsimple usually means someoneâs lying,â he says. âthis is honest.â
that shouldnât be comforting. it is.
the first time you come home shakenâreally shakenâyou donât even have to explain.
adrianâs already there, sitting on your couch, helmet resting beside him like a promise. he looks up the moment the door opens.
âwhat happened?â
you drop your bag. your hands are trembling.
ânew attending. he grabbed me,â you say. ânotâbad. but enough.â
his jaw tightens.
âi told him to stop,â you add quickly. âhe laughed.â
adrian stands slowly. carefully. like heâs afraid sudden movement might scare you. âwhat do you need?â he asks.
the room feels very still.
you think of ethics. of rules. of the version of yourself that existed before adrian chase. then you think of walking to your car alone.
âi donât want to see him again,â you say.
adrian nods. once. âokay.â
you donât ask questions.
the next day, the man doesnât show up for his shift. or the next.
or the next.
you feel the familiar twist of guiltâand the equally familiar release that follows.
some nights, adrian comes back bloodied and buzzing with energy, curls up beside you like nothing happened. other nights, he stays home, lets the city fend for itself.
those nights are your favorite.
you lie in bed together, his arm heavy around your waist, your fingers tracing absent-minded patterns into his skin.
âyou ever think about stopping?â you ask once.
he hums. âdo you want me to?â
you consider it. the quiet. the safety. the way the other women at work suddenly have nothing to fear either. âno,â you admit.
âthen no,â he says simply.
he presses a kiss to your temple. âiâm yours. thatâs the rule.â
you should argue.
instead, you smile and close your eyes.
evergreen remains peaceful.
the ER stays quiet.
and sometimesâwhen you leave work late and the night air feels too openâyou catch the faint reflection of red in a darkened window. watching.
guarding.
loving.
you donât wave. you donât have to. adrian already knows youâre safe.
because if you werenât, heâd fix that. every time.Â

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the evergreen public library book club
Adrian Chase x fem!Reader, 5.3k
You're starting a new book club at the library, and you need members. Adrian knows exactly who to drag along.
Part One | Masterlist
tags/warnings: librarian!reader, library patron!adrian, fluff, adrian and chris killing people, 11th street kids join book club!!
Thank you @embeanwrites for the suggestions on this one!!
Also. I mention one book by title in here - Lights Out by Navessa Allen. ADRIAN GIRLIES I'M TELLING YOU, YOU WILL EAT THAT SHIT UP GO READ IT
When the automatic doors slide open and your boyfriend walks in the doors of the library, you smile from behind the circulation desk and give him a shy little wave. Itâs been nearly a year now, since you first started working here, and this has quickly become your favorite sightâAdrian Chase approaching the circ desk.
To this day, you never know what is going to come out of his mouth when he comes up to you. It could be a weird ass reference question about a mythical animal. It could be an interlibrary loan request for an obscure book about aliens. It could be a request for you to take your break so you can go outside and make out with him for fifteen minutes. Anything, really.
âHow is my favorite library patron today?â you tease. He always loves it when you call him that. The tips of his ears turn pink and he gets all shy. But today, he glances around at the mostly empty library, leans in closer to you, and lowers his voice.
âI did something bad,â Adrian says today, deadly serious, and you almost canât take him seriously. Because he did something bad yesterday, too, and the day before that, and the day before that. Heâs killing people constantly. But thatâs obviously not what heâs talking about.
âWhat did you do?â you ask, leaning in and matching his low tone of voice.
âI ruined a book,â he says, like heâs admitting to murder, except he almost definitely would care less about that than about this. âI got shot on patrol last night, and I had a library book in my passenger seat. Itâs likeâŚcovered in blood. Definitely a biohazard. You do not want it back.â
âJesus Christ, baby,â you say worriedly, looking him up and down. Adrian seemed fine walking in hereâheâs not limping or anything, and he doesnât seem like heâs in pain. Youâre still getting used to having a vigilante metahuman for a boyfriend. No matter how long youâre together, though, you donât think youâll ever stop worrying about him when he gets hurt. âI literally could not care less about the book. Are you okay?â
âIâm good,â he says. âI slept it off. I have to go to work in a couple minutes, I just need to right my wrong before I go about the rest of my day.â He slaps two twenties on the counter and pushes them over to you. âHere. For a replacement. Iâm sorry.â
âDonât be sorry,â you say softly, your hand covering his on the counter. âBe safer. Please. I would like my boyfriend to keep coming home to me in one piece.â
Adrian looks down at your joint hands and smiles softly. âIâll try not to get shot or stabbed this week,â he promises, and you sigh, knowing thatâs the best youâre going to get. âIâll see you later, right?â
âYeah. You will,â you say. You take a quick look around for anyone watching before you rush around the desk to peck a quick kiss to his lips. âI love you.â
âI love you, too,â he says, smiling.
Several hours later, once you close up the library, you make the familiar drive over to Fennel Fields.Â
Itâs become something of a weekly routine for you to spend your Friday evenings at the restaurant after the library closes, tucked up in a booth with a book while you wait for Adrianâs shift to end so you can spend the night together.
âHey, girl,â Taylor says when she sees you walk in. âAdrian saved your booth for you, and already put your order in. Iâll let him know youâre here.â
âThanks, Taylor.â
You wave and greet the rest of the staff as you make your way to the booth in the back corner, where Adrian had put you the first time youâd visited him at work because, as he insisted, âI can see you better when Iâm in the back washing dishes.â
As soon as you take off your coat, put down your bag, and plop yourself into the seat, the man in question sticks his head out of the kitchen and waves eagerly, calling to you across the restaurant. âHi baby!â
âHi, honey,â you laugh. âGet back to work. I donât want you to get in trouble.â
âI get my break in twenty minutes,â he says. âIâll bring your food when itâs ready and come sit with you.â
âOkay.â
You pull out your book, the sounds of the restaurant and its customers fading into the background as you get absorbed in your book for a few chapters. You only make it through two and a half of them before Adrian is dropping two Diet Cokes and a basket of mozzarella sticks on the table and sliding into the booth next to you, his entire body pressing up against yours like heâs never heard of the concept of personal space.
âHi,â he says, green eyes sparkling, and one hand cups your cheek so he can kiss you thoroughly. Adrian never does anything halfway. You hum against him, eyes fluttering closed, book falling open on the table in front of you as you drop it so you can clutch at the front of his uniform shirt.
Heâs beaming at you when he pulls away, glasses and hat a little crooked, and you giggle and reach up to fix them for him.
âWhatcha reading?â he asks, reaching for your book, pressing even closer to you on the bench and hooking your feet together under the table.
âActually, Iâve been meaning to tell you about this,â you say. âTheyâre letting me start that book club!âÂ
âOh my god, baby, thatâs great!â Adrian exclaims. âThey approved the budget?â
Youâve been asking for nearly two months to get this new program started, but the library director has been reluctant to let you buy a dozen copies of the book to supply to book club members each month. You hold out a book to him excitedly, a twisty mystery/thriller.
âThis is the first book weâre going to read!â You hold it up for him to show him. âIt went viral online recently, so Iâm hoping it draws in some attendees.âÂ
You worry your bottom lip with your teeth as you stare at the book cover, clearly nervous about it. Adrian knows exactly how much youâve wanted this, how much it means to you that itâs finally happening.
âIâm proud of you,â he says, lifting your chin until you look him in the eyes. âHey. Itâs gonna go so great. People are gonna love it. Because you are amazing and beautiful and perfect and wonderful at your job.â
âThatâs a lot of adjectives,â you laugh.
âAnd they are all accurate,â he says firmly. âYouâre gonna have the coolest book club that has ever existed, babe, because you are the one running it.â
You really, really hope so.
âYouâŚyouâll come, right? I need people to show up, otherwise they wonât let me continue,â you say, feeling a little ridiculous for even asking. Of course Adrian will come. You would probably need an armed guard outside the library to prevent him from showing up, and even then, he might just kill the poor guy anyway just to show up for you.
âI wouldnât miss it,â he says.
And Adrian knows exactly what he can do to help.
âLet me get this straight,â Chris says. âYou go to the library? Multiple times a week? On purpose?â
âYes,â Adrian says. âI donât have a computer! How else am I supposed to check my emailââ
âYou have an iPhone, Adrian,â Economos deadpans. âYou donât need a desktop computer to check your email.â
âOkay, wellâhow am I supposed to play video games that are only available on PC?â Adrian argues.
âWhy donât you just buy a computer?â Adebayo asks, bewildered. âYou have an actual job. You can afford one.â
âDo you have any idea how expensive guns are?â
âStop buying so many weapons!â
âIâm a vigilante! I need weapons to do my job! Andâeven if I did have a computer, I have to go to the library anyway to pick up the books that I have on hold.â
âThis is why Iâm more buff than you,â Chris says. âBecause youâre a fucking nerd, and you go to the library and read books all the time.â
âThatâs why youâre a moron,â Economos says. âBecause you donât fucking read books.â
âI take offense to that. I have been working on my emotional intelligence,â Chris argues.
âIâm sorry, are we skipping over the other thing that Adrian just said?â Harcourt interjects. âWhen the hell did you get a fucking girlfriend?â
âDo none of you listen to me when I talk?â Adrian asks, annoyed. âI literally mention her all the time. Every day.â
âHonestly,â John says, âI tend to tune you out, like, sixty percent of the time. Because youâre usually talking about like, narwhals or something.â
âNarwhals arenât real,â Adrian says.
âThey are, actually,â Adebayo says.
âNo they arenât,â he scoffs. âA whale with a horn? Really? Next youâre gonna tell me unicornsââ
âBut that is beside the point, Adrian,â Adebayo interrupts.
âHe does talk about the librarian all the time,â Chris says. âI just thought he was, ya know. Being a stalker creep, like usual.â
âWhat the hell, dude! Iâm not being a creep! Sheâs my girlfriend!â
âYouâre actually dating the librarian?â Adebayo asks, disbelieving.
âYes!â
âAnd sheâŚalso knows? That youâre dating her?â Economos asks.
âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
âIâm just making sure this is a consensual situation for everyone involvedââ
âYou really have a girlfriend?â Harcourt asks again.
âYes!â Adrian cries. âIs that so hard to believe?â
âYes,â everyone says in unison.
âWell I do,â he says defensively. âAnd she likes PokĂŠmon and video games and she loves me very much and we are very happy together!â
âI wonât lie, Vig,â Chris says, âyouâre kind of a freak. And I would have expected you to end up with someone who is also a freak. Librarians are likeâŚas normal as they come.â
âShe doesnât care that Iâm a freak,â Adrian says. âShe thinks Iâm endearing.â
âShe might be the only person on earth who thinks that.â
âDo you want to come to book club or not?â Adrian asks, annoyed, getting back to the point of the conversation in the first place.
You need program attendees. Heâs got four friends with basically no social life and a crap ton of time on their hands. It seemed like a good idea at first, but now heâs not sure he wants to introduce you to any of them, because theyâre being fucking mean to him.
Well, maybe he should introduce you anyway. Let them talk shit in front of you; you would probably give them a piece of your mind about it. Like you yelled at that guy who called your coworker a bitch the other day. Adrian had been about to step in when you had gone off on him. Youâre so fucking hot when youâre mad.
âYou want me to read a book?â Chris asks. âI donât read books. Books are for nerds.â
âI donât care if you read the book,â Adrian says. âI care if you show up. Itâs a new program, and it means a lot to her, and if it doesnât get enough attendance, they wonât let her keep doing it.â
âI canât believe Iâm saying this, but. Yeah. Iâll go,â Harcourt says. âI need to see this girl with my own two eyes.â
Chris changes his tune almost instantly.
âIf Emilia goes, I guess Iâll come,â he shrugs, trying and failing to be nonchalant. Harcourt rolls her eyes.
âI think we all should go,â Adebayo says. âIt actually sounds like fun. We only ever get together and drink. Which is fun, butâwe should branch out. Iâll read the book.â
Economos sighs. âOkay. Iâm in. What are we reading?â
Adrian beams. âThank you, guys. She will be really happy.â
A few days later, Adrian is in the woods late on a Tuesday evening, in full Vigilante uniform, shooting up an old dishwasher with Peacemaker.
âYou know, man,â heâs saying, âif you really want to work on your emotional intelligence, like you were saying, you should read some romance books. You can learn a lot from those things.â
Chris scoffs, takes a shot that blows right through the center of the dishwasher door. âI highly doubt that.â
âYouâre missing out, dude,â Adrian insists. âIâm telling you. I was reluctant too, at first. Iâm like, a true crime guy all the way, right? Thatâs my jam. But I see her reading this book one day, blushing red as a tomato, and Iâm like, what the hell are you reading? Andââ He starts to laugh. âOh my god, these book girls and their smutty romance are crazy motherfuckersâI read one page of that thing and it was filthier than any porno Iâve ever watched.â
âNo shit?â
âI swear to god. When I get to her apartment and I see her sitting there reading a fantasy romance? I know Iâm in for it, man. Sheâs gonna be horny as fuck, and she reads some of these dark romance booksâyou will not believe some of the kinky shit she has asked me to try. Thereâs this one called Lights Out that she made me read, and holy shit, they do this thing with a knifeâI donât think Iâve ever cum that hard in my lifeââ
He feels his phone buzzing against his waist, the special pattern he set just for texts from you.
âOhâsorry, hang on, man,â he says. âThatâs her, I need to look at this.â
Gang fight outside the library today, in the parking lot.Â
Iâm okay, so are Dawn and the rest of the staff. But we had to call the cops and file a dozen no trespass orders, and one of the guys said he would âbeat my bitchassâ and threatened to kill me.
Thought you should know.
He grits his teeth. He knows you love your job. He does. But sometimes he wishes you worked literally anywhere else. Somewhere safer, where he didnât have to worry if a crazy, dangerous person would walk into the public library and say some outlandish shit to you or do something insane that put your life at risk.
Adrian rips the Vigilante mask off and yanks his gloves off with his teeth so he can type faster, his first message so riddled with typos itâs unreadable because his fingers are shaking with fury. He clenches his fist, takes a deep breath. Youâre okay, you told him you were okay.
Whatâs his name, he types again, slower this time. He doesnât even include his customary merman emoji, because heâs pissed.
Louis Rossi.
When Adrian smiles, itâs sharp at the edges, cruel and satisfied. Louis Rossi is a dead man walking.
Stay home tonight, he texts you. Make sure your doors and windows are locked. I love you.
âĽď¸ Come over when youâre done. Be safe.
âHey, dude?â Adrian says, voice tight, and Chris looks at him brow furrowed, and nods for him to continue. âDo you mind if we have a change of plans for tonight?â
âWhatâs going on?â
âThere was a gang fight outside the library today,â he spits. âOne of them threatened to kill her. And now theyâre all gonna fucking die.â
âHoly shit,â Chris says. âThatâs pretty hardcore. Is she okay? Do you need to like, go check on her?â
âSheâs okay. She deals with this shit, like, all the time,â Adrian says. âItâs infuriating. People go in there and they think because itâs a public service they can do and say whatever the fuck they want to the staff.â
âThat isâŚreally fucked up.â
âI know. Iâve been doing everything I can to kill all the motherfuckers that make their lives hell. I meanâthereâs dudes that literally jerk off at the public computers. On like, a weekly basis!â Chris makes a face. âWhen itâs really bad, like today, she tells me about it, so I can take care of it.â
âHang on. She knows youâre Vigilante?â
âWell, yeah. Obviously. I donât keep secrets from her.â
âI was your best friend for years before you told me who you were,â Chris says, almost offended. âHang onâare you telling meâhave you been acting as the local public librarianâs personal assassin?â
Adrian pauses. âI mean. I guess you could say it like that. I put in book requests, she puts in kill requests. Itâs a mutually beneficial relationship.â
âDude, those things are not of equal value, like, at all.â
âItâs not important! Look, I normally just take care of it myself, but I figured it would be better to have backup if Iâm taking on a whole gang at once. But if you donât want to helpââ
âOkay, okay. Letâs go take care of this, so you can get home to your kinky girlfriend who is apparently just as insane as you are, yeah?â
âThanks man,â Adrian says gratefully, starting to pack up his ammo and strap his weapons into his utility belt. Chris does the same, then clears his throat.
â...What was the title of that book, again?â
Itâs nearing 2 a.m. by the time Adrian and Chris have gotten the job done, made it look like a rival gang shooting, and Adrian has gone home to change, shower, and clean himself up enough to head over to your apartment like you asked.Â
He never goes to you directly from patrol; itâs too big a risk. The less chance of you being connected to Vigilante, the better, especially since heâs been directly targeting so many problematic library patrons since your relationship started.
He normally wouldnât even bother going over to your place this late, but you asked for him to come, and honestlyâhe needs to see you, after today. Heâs been on edge since you texted him about the incident, and even though he knows those people canât hurt you anymore, that he made sure of it, he needs the reassurance. Even if all he does is crawl into bed with you, cuddle up to you from behind and breathe in the scent of your shampoo, thatâs good enough for him. To know youâre safe, watch the rise and fall of your chest, even if youâre sleeping.
When Adrian arrives at your doorstep, though, and opens the door with his spare key, all of your lamps are still on, casting the space in warm light, and the entire apartment is warm, smelling like vanilla and sugar. At the sound of the door, you look up from your spot tucked into the corner of the couch. Thereâs a blanket and a book in your lap.
âHi,â you say, smiling. Adrian shuts and locks the door behind him, kicking off his shoes.
âWhy the fuck are you still awake?â he asks, not angry, but playful. âYou have work in the morning, missy.â
âThey gave me the day off,â you say, smiling as you stick a bookmark in your paperback to mark your spot. âAfter everything that happened today. It was worse than the usual stuff, and I took the brunt of it. The directorâs worried about staff burnout, I think.â
Adrian approaches you from behind the couch. You tilt your head back and smile as he leans down to give you an upside-down kiss.
âItâs taken care of,â he says, soft, serious. He brushes your hair out of your face gently. âAll of it. All of them.â
âAnd youâre okay?â you ask, shifting on the couch cushion onto your knees so you can kneel higher and face him head-on, scanning him up and down for injuries. There arenât any scuffs or scratches you can see, but heâs wearing long sleeves and sweats, so that doesnât mean anything.
âIâm great,â he grins, arms circling your waist. âThe guy who called you a bitch is dead, Peacemaker helped, we had a sick time bonding. And I didnât even get shot or stabbed, just like I promised!â
âForgive me if I want to check for myself,â you say, only half teasing as your hands drift under his shirt and across his skin. He shivers, lets your hands roam, and he kisses up your neck and across the edge of your jaw while you feel across his smooth skin for any bumps and bruises.
âIt smells good in here,â Adrian murmurs.
âI was doing some baking,â you smile, letting him kiss you again. âIâm gonna bring some treats to book club, I wanted to practice. Want to be my taste-tester?â
âUm, obviously,â he says, following you into the kitchen like a duckling. You hand him a cookie, still warm, off of a baking tray, and he devours half of it in one bite.
âGood?â
âSo, so good,â he says with his mouthful, crumbs flying everywhere.
âConsider it a thank you. Iâll box some up and you can bring them to Peacemaker, the next time you see him.â You pull some plastic containers out of the cabinet and start packing them away.
âActually, I forgot to mention,â Adrian says, still chewing, reaching for another cookie. âHeâs gonna come. To the meeting.â
You pause abruptly, incredibly confused, and turn back to your boyfriend. âPeacemaker. Is comingâŚto book club?â
âYep! So is everyone else,â Adrian says excitedly, halfway through his second cookie. âYou said you needed people to show up! And I know itâs important to you, so I asked my friends to come!â
âAdrian,â you say, suddenly emotional, tears welling up in your eyes, and he starts to panic, dropping his cookie on the counter and brushing the crumbs off his hands onto his sweatshirt. Then his hands fly up to cup your cheeks.
âNo! Stop that! Donât cry. Should I not have done that?â he asks, frantic. âIâll tell them to fuck off. They donât have to come. They donât even read books that muchââ
âNo,â you interrupt with a wet laugh, wiping at the corners of your eyes. âI justâthat was really, really thoughtful of you. Happy tears, baby. Not sad ones.â
âOh,â he says. âSoâŚI did good?â
âYes,â you assure him, sniffling a little. âYou always do. The best boyfriend ever.â
âYour favorite library patron?â he smiles.
âMy favorite library patron.â You start to laugh but it turns into a yawn, and he grins and pulls you in for a hug. You bury your face in his shirt, let him pull you along to bed, shutting off the lights, wrapping you up in blankets, and curling around you like a koala.
Youâre asleep in minutes, and Adrian closes his eyes, too, but he lays there awake for a while, thumb pressed against the pulse point in your wrist, letting the steady rhythm soothe him, focusing on the fact that heâs got you here, safe with him. Tomorrow, heâll call out of work, sleep late with you, wake up to coffee and sleepy kisses, and he lets that dream of the soft morning settle him to sleep.
Adrian hasnât seen you since this morning, and you had been nervousâyouâd been stress-baking cookies all evening on Wednesday, worried about whether people would like the book you chose, hoping enough people would show up to the meeting.
âItâs gonna be great, baby,â heâd reassured you before you left for work. âNo matter what, Iâm so proud of you. Iâll see you tonight, okay?â
Now, heâs feeling almost as nervous as you, piled into Adebayoâs car with the rest of the 11th Street Kids on the way to the inaugural Evergreen Public Library Book Club meeting.Â
âDoes she actually wear, like, glasses on a chain and a cardigan and shit? Or is that just in the pornos?â
âReally, Chris?â Adebayo says. Adrianâs crammed into the middle of the backseat between Chris and Economos, foot tapping anxiously, and he can see Harcourt rolling her eyes from the passenger seat in the rearview mirror.
âJesus Christ,â Economos mutters. âThis was a mistake.â
Adrian has to agree. God, why did he think this was a good time to introduce you to his friends for the first time?
As soon as Adebayo parks the car and everyone else spills out, Adrian is scrambling out of the car and speedwalking toward the library entrance. The others follow after him. Theyâre early, but he wants to be. In case you need help setting up, moving chairs or tables, anything he can do to make the night easier for you.
He pauses in the parking lot when he sees a man pissing on the side of the building.
âHey, asshole, thereâs literally a bathroom in the fucking lobby! Put your dick away and get the fuck out of here, you pervert!â he starts ranting. Harcourt grabs him by the back of the shirt and pulls him into the building before he can do anything more.
âI donât think your girlfriend would appreciate it if you got arrested right before her book club meeting,â she says.
âWe can take care of it later, dude,â Chris adds, voice low.
Adrian takes a deep breath, shakes off her hand, and walks into the main floor of the library. It settles him a bit, the familiar environment, the smell of the books, the beeping of the checkout scanners.
âHey, Adrian,â Dawn says from the circulation desk. Laura pokes her head out from the back office to wave hello as well. They both pause when they see the entourage walking in behind him, looking around curiously. âHello, there.â
âI brought my friends,â Adrian says. âFor book club.â
Dawnâs face softens from confusion to understanding. âShe will appreciate that very much, Adrian.â
âI didnât realize he had any friends,â whispers Laura, obvious surprise lacing her tone. Dawn elbows her in the side.
âTheyâre in the meeting room upstairs,â Dawn says. âYou know where youâre going. Ohâand a book came in for you, whenever the meeting is over.â
Adrian nods. âThanks, Dawn.â
âDamn. You really are a regular here,â Economos says. âThey know you by name and everything.â
âWhat can I say,â Adrian says, âIâm a memorable guy.â
âAinât that the truth,â Adebayo says, clapping Adrian on the shoulder. âCome on. Introduce us to your girl.â
Adrian smiles and leads everyone upstairs to the meeting room. Youâre absorbed in your work, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth as you lay out refreshments on the conference table, and he knocks on the door frame to get your attention.
âHey, baby,â he says, and you beam at him.
âAdrian,â you say, practically skipping toward him and throwing your arms around him. âYou made it.â
âMy god,â Harcourt says. âFuck me sideways, you werenât lying, Chase.â
âShe is wearing a cardiganââ Chris starts, and Adebayo and Economos tell him to shut up at the exact same time.
You turn your smile on Adrianâs friends. âItâs so nice to meet you all. Iâve heard so much about you, and, god, I canât thank you enough for coming, it means a lot.â
âFull transparency, I think at least three of us werenât convinced you were real until right this moment,â Economos says.
âIgnore all of them. Please,â says Adebayo. âIâm Leota. Itâs so nice to finally meet you.â
âDo you need help with anything, baby?â Adrian offers. âMoving furniture, or getting anything ready, orââ
âIâm good, honey, thank you,â you smile. âYou guys just take a seat, I have to go grab the copies of next monthâs book!â
âWhere are you sitting?â Adrian asks. âI want to sit next to you.â
You drop your water bottle and your copy of the book, annotated with sticky notes, at an empty chair. âRight here. Iâll be back soon. Weâll be getting started in twenty minutes or so.â You press a kiss to his cheek.
They all watch you go, then everyone turns to stare at Adrian.
âWhat?â he asks.
âDude. Sheâs like, hot,â Chris says.
âAnd nice,â Adebayo says.
âAnd normal,â Harcourt adds.
âAnd real,â Economos finishes.
Adrian just crosses his arms, smug, and pulls out a seat for himself at the table.
âI fucking told you.â
Youâre back two minutes later, rolling in a cart of books, talking excitedly with a couple library patrons that are also there for the book club meeting. As everyone starts chatting books, Adrian is surprised to see that all of his friends actually did read the book, and in fact have some strong opinions about it.
âI thought it was great,â John says. âI mean, is it a literary masterpiece? Absolutely not. But highly entertaining.â
âI know what you mean,â you laugh. âI had a good time too, and I will probably recommend this to a lot of people, but itâs not going on any all-time favorites lists.â
Adebayo has some really thoughtful contributions to the discussion too, even though she thought the book was just okay, and Harcourt tacks on to her comments with her own additions that inspire others in the room to speak up, too. With that, the room devolves into detailed conversation, and Adrian sits there, mostly quiet, with a tiny, proud smile on his face as he watches you lead the discussion, completely in your element.Â
Chris does make one idiotic comment, but one glare from Harcourt has him shutting the fuck up before the conversation heads too far off the rails. Adrian, unfortunately, didnât like the book very much, which he is honest about when you ask, and while he couldnât exactly explain it was because he didnât think the murder scenes were realistic enough, he did piece together a sentence or two that sounded intelligent, at least enough so that his friends look at him like heâs grown a second head.
âIâm so glad you could all make it tonight,â you say as the meeting starts to wrap up. âI would love to have you back, and if any of you have requests for specific books, or types of books we read in the future, I would love to hear them.â
âSome sci-fi would be fun,â John suggests. âIâve got a couple favorite authors in mind, I can email you a list.â
âIâd like to read some romance,â Chris says, and everyone stares at him.
âReally?â Harcourt asks, disbelieving.
âListen. Adrian told me to read this one calledâwhat was it? Lights Out? And I started listening the audiobook, and oh, man, that shit is crazyââ
You give Adrian a look, eyes wide. He shrugs.
âI mean, it was crazy, babeââ
âOkay,â you say, bewildered. âI guess Iâll add it to the list.â
Everyone starts to filter out soon after that. The group has been chatting so long, itâs near closing time. Adrian and his friends stick around to help you clean up refreshments and put the furniture back where it belongs so you can finish the last of your closing duties.
âBe honest,â you say quietly to Adrian as you box up leftover cookies. âHow do you think it went?â
He stops and looks at you, then glances at his friends who are joking and moving chairs around.
âEveryone had a great time,â he says, lowering his voice. âIâve never seen Harcourt talk that much in one sitting, honestly. You made miracles happen tonight.â You smile, just a bit. âIâm proud of you, baby.â
âThank you,â you say softly. âFor all of your help. WithâŚeverything.â
The word is loaded. He knows exactly what you mean. Whether itâs vigilante shit or book club, heâs always going to be there for whatever you need.
âGood luck getting rid of me,â he jokes. âIâm planning to stay your favorite library patron until I die.â
âYouâre my favorite everything,â you say, leaning in for a quick kiss, but Adrian grabs you by the neck and holds you there longer, kisses you deeper, smiles against your mouth until he feels you smiling back.
âCome on,â you say. âYour hold came in. The one about narwhals? Why the hell did you request a narwhal book, anyway?â
âSo I could prove to Ads that theyâre not real.â
âAdrianâŚâ
Taglist: @dosyrosyposy @icarusobsessions @snowyathena @frenchievictim @a-young-g0d @residentsuperhero @imxoandurnot @iloveneteyam101 @raidstarz @morguegrl89 @genuinelygemini @velvetdreamer666 @trelaney @bastardstevie @v1gilanteloser (lmk if y'all want to just...be tagged in all the Adrian things lmao i am so cool w that)
under the influence, pt. II
synopsis: Vigilante goes viral, you prove youâre terrifyingly good at your job, and Adrian Chase keeps showing up: in your apartment, your camera roll, your personal space - and for you. Somewhere between forced happy hours, misguided Instagram stories, botched first-aid attempts, late-night patrols, you try to get better at a new skill: convincing yourself this is still just part of the job.
gif by @/chris-hargreeves
pairing: adrian chase/vigilante x reader tags: (former) enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn, post-Season 2, Checkmate related antics, publicist!reader, second person POV, f!reader, canon typical violence/language, blood/injury, improper medical treatment, imposter syndrome, internet references abound, things get a little angsty for a bit i'm so sorry word count: 13.1k a/n: hello! first and foremost, thank you for the absolutely lovely reception on part one of this - I've been working on it since November, and sort of holding onto it, unsure if/when I wanted to post. I am so glad I did! also, whoops this part in particular became very long but I felt so adamant that this was three parts because I was thinking of it like a three act play in my brain lol! so enjoy! oh, also, cross-posted on ao3 (usually next day there) if that's your jam! lastly, was thinking a lot of about the djo song "egg" during this, make of that what you will!
part one
part two: something else entirely
âI canât believe I'm saying this, butâŚVigilanteâs doing remarkably well on socials,â you announced to the table, clicking to the next slide in your presentation. The entire team was sleep deprived - and, youâd noticed, rather beat up, especially Adrian - but your promise to deliver caffeine and baked goods had dragged them to the late morning meeting. You tried not to ask about missions so much - frankly, you didnât need to know, and you knew youâd just spend every minute the team was away worrying about them all. Youâd grown to somehow both cherish and despise the days that found you utterly alone in the office.
âMe?â Adrian perked up. You took a sip of your own coffee and then nodded. He smiled so wide his lip started to bleed again.Â
âUmâŚChase, your - your mouth?â you attempted but he waved you off, his focus locked onto you like a hapless puppy.Â
âWho cares! I want to hear more about me doing better than everyone else,â he chirped.
âWell, I didnât say better than everyone elseâŚâ
âItâs okay. You can say it. Theyâre basically asleep anyway.â
âFuck you, Adrian,â Ads groaned from where her head was nestled in her arms on the table.
âYour traction has gone up considerably with the, um, 18-40 demographic?âÂ
That was enough to grab everyoneâs attention. Adrian, however, seemed perplexed. And perhaps, if you were reading his furrowed brow correctly, disappointed?Â
âOh,â he said simply, slumping back into his chair.Â
âOh?â Chris echoed. âEvery chick 18-40 wants to bang you and all you can say is âohâ?â
âActually, itâs not just the female-identified baseâŚâ
Adrianâs head whipped back to you. âWait a minute? Is âtractionâ code for âeveryone wants to bang meâ?â
âWell, no,â you clarified. âNot everyone. ButâŚa lot of themâŚyes.â
âItâs my cool moves, isnât it?â Adrian said, angling his chin up slightly. He was preening like a goddamn bird that Fleury wouldnât be able to recognize.
You cleared your throat and suddenly found the tablet in your hand very interesting. âItâs uhâŚitâs the mask, mostly. Iâve gathered. From myâŚresearch.â
You didnât want to have to explain exactly how that research had been conducted. You were still trying to forget the depravity of r/Vigilante.
âSounds kind ofâŚkinky,â Adebayo parsed quietly.Â
âAnyway, kink aside, it is boosting Checkmateâs branding significantly. So keep being sexy, I guess?â
Harcourt choked on her coffee. âJesus Christ.â
âSpeaking of Jesus and further proof he doesnât exist,â you plowed ahead, swiping on your tablet. âPeacemaker and Harcourt are also doing numbers.âÂ
âWell, of course Iâm doing well, I'm the titular superhero,â Chris said, crossing his impossibly broad arms over his chest.Â
âPeacemaker is the titular superhero ofâŚCheckmate?â John asked, barely suppressing a shit-eating grin. You knew you were approximately 60 seconds from losing the group altogether down yet another linguistic rabbit hole. There was at least one of those a week, sometimes several if you were particularly unlucky. Youâd started building âtangent timeâ into all meetings after your second month.
âYes,â Chris replied simply.Â
âDude, I donât think you know what titular means,â Adrian chimed in. Harcourt rolled her eyes.
âOh good, now Adrian is offering grammatical advice,â she drawled.
âWhat? How am I wrong on this?â Chris asked, genuinely perplexed.
Economos sighed. âIf this company were named Peacemaker Inc or whatever the fuck, that would make you titular. As in, in the title.â
âI donât think thatâs right, but whatever, what do I know?â Chris said sarcastically and you bit your tongue to keep yourself from intervening on telling him exactly what he didnât know. These last few months had been a real crash course in managing personalities. Somehow more than any of your work before. Actors and politicians and conglomerates had never been quite so difficult.
âWell, also I should have clarified. You two are doing well together. As anâŚentity,â you managed to finally interject into the general cacophony of the table.Â
Harcourt glared at you. âPlease tell me âentityâ doesnât mean what I think it means?â
You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly tight. You turned over how to spin it in your mind. You certainly werenât about to tell Emilia Harcourt that people were drawing fanart of her and Peacemaker kissing all over the internet. âIâŚthinkâŚthatâŚpeople have taken an interest in your dynamic as aâŚduo. And they areâŚspeculatingâŚabout what your interpersonal dynamic is.â
âYouâre a good bullshitter but Iâm going to need you to do better than that,â Harcourt replied.
âItâs not her fault that even dweebs on the internet can sense your palpable sexual chemistry,â Adebayo chimed in with a grin. Luckily Chris was too busy eyeing Harcourt with open want to bother pulling your chain much more. You moved on expeditiously before Harcourt could go on her well trodden path about the evils of social media.Â
âAdebayo! Your charitable work is doing great numbers, your personal, not quite as strong,â you said, referring down to the spreadsheet youâd been compiling. âI think people just donât have a sense of you.âÂ
âThatâs okay. I donât need to be a poster child for all this,â she replied, gesturing vaguely at the absolute chaos around the table. âI just want to help people.â
You caught her eye and nodded firmly. You knew she was reticent to be so public facing after the conference sheâd held after their first big mission. The one that kind of blew everything up, putting them all on the map in some capacity - for better or worse. So you wouldnât push - Adebayo had become a friend and in this line of work you had to look out for friends where you could find them.Â
A glance down at your meeting notes indicated you were almost through - you could practically taste the almond croissant you were so close to enjoying the second it was over. You kept going, âNoted. Bordeaux, Lane called from The Daily Planet asking about doing a front page story on you, and I figured it could be some good rep? She and I go way back, so we can trust her not to dogpile you with some kind of gotcha journalism, but she means business and she isnât going to take it easy on you. Youâll need to bring your A game. Thoughts?â
âAny journalist not afraid to take down Lex Luthor is cool with me,â Sasha replied.
You nodded. âGreat, weâll get it on the books. John, that tech conference reached out again? Have you changed your mind?â
âAbso-fucking-lutely not,â he replied with a middle finger salute, but you knew better than to take it personally. Youâd been cutting him slack ever since he saved your ass rescuing content from a hard drive that had been damaged in the field. (Note to self: hard drives are not bulletproof and Adrian will insist youâre no longer allowed in the field.) You gave him a middle finger right back and he smiled.
âRip, do you know what âeditsâ are?â you asked, casting one someone had made of Superman to the song âStarmanâ by David Bowie to the screen. Rip crossed his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes.Â
âGirl.â
âRight, sorry, forgot youâre basically addicted to TikTok,â you muttered under your breath. Adrian laughed just a little too loudly and you swallowed down a slight smile.Â
âCheetos wants to do their very own Judomaster collab edit,â you announced with a proud smile. Rip sat up in his seat.
âAre you fucking with me right now?â he asked.Â
âRip, you know I would never joke about something so sacred,â you said seriously. âThereâs a PR package on your desk.â
âIâm sorry for ever doubting you. I worship at your altar,â Rip said. You gave him a slight bow.
âGreat,â you exhaled, clutching your tablet to your chest. âAny questions?â
âWhat about my numbers?â Fleury asked, startling you. Youâd forgotten he was even there. You pretended to scroll furiously on your tablet already knowing the answer was that he didnât register with the populace (or you, apparently) at all, but you didnât really want to hurt his feelings.Â
You wrenched your gaze up from your screen and gave a thumbs up. âKeep up the good work, Fleury.â
âI knew it,â he whispered as he pumped his fist.
Before you could even properly get out the words, the meeting room cleared in a blizzard of grabbed pastries and cups of coffee passed from one hand to another.Â
âGood meeting, boss!â Adrian cheered from behind you. You spun around and Adrianâs grimacing face matched yours. You both shook your heads. âNope, not right. I could feel it the second I said it. Iâm going to keep trying though.â
You couldnât help but laugh. You also couldnât help but notice the way Adrianâs smile widened when you did. âItâs okay. Really! Iâve never been much of a nickname person, anyway.â
âBut then how will you know you belong?â Adrian asked so earnestly you were sure your heart stopped beating for a second. âFor example, Economos is Econogoat, right?â
âQuestionable nickname, but sureâŚâ
âAnd people call me Vij, and sometimes Ade, and Ads is Ads.â
You stifled a laugh and nodded. âMhmm.â
âSoâŚ?â
âOh, what, youâve moved past âcamera girlâ?â you teased, but you couldnât help the slight catch in your throat at the sight of Adrianâs fallen expression. âSuch a shame, I really liked that one.â
âChris says I was a dick to you, you do know Iâm sorry, right?â
âChris is right about very few things but he is right about that one,â you replied. You hated the doe-eyed frown that resulted. You nudged him with your elbow before you resumed gathering your stuff on the table. âBut I do know how sorry you are. Mostly because you tell me every other day.â
He started stacking empty coffee cups at the other end of the table, lingering the way he always did after meetings now. He was doing that thing again - when you knew he was play acting at being casual, but the man didnât have a casual bone in his body. âHey, so, do you think youâre gonna come out for drinks with everyone tonight?âÂ
You winced, thankful your back was to him. Nearly every Friday was drinks at a local spot. And you hadnât gone to a single one. In the months you had now worked for Checkmate. You knew how it probably seemed to everyone else. But it wasnât that at all - you wanted to. You really did. Youâd justâŚnever really been a part of a workplace where people actually wanted to be friends. And theyâd all been friends for so much longer, bound together by near-death experiences, and bonding in the field and saving the goddamn planet. You werenât sure there was a way to slip into a picture like that and not mess up the whole image.
âOh shoot, I donât think I can tonight. I haveâŚI have a date,â you lied through your fucking teeth. A date with my couch, you thought.
âOh!â Adrian said, seeming surprised. His posture straightened slightly and it was his turn to nudge you with his elbow - except when he did it, it fucking hurt. âSo, whoâs the lucky guy? Or, oh shit, sorry, girl? I donât want to presume. Ads says I shouldnât project heteronormativity onto people - which, I really usually donât! I swear. My dadâs gay. So.â
âJust some dude from Hinge,â you said, trying to keep the lie simple. Less webs to get tangled up in later on. Of course, Adrian Chase did not understand the concept of simple.
âWhatâs he like? And also whatâs his full government name - like, just in case? And also do you know his address? If not, full government name will do. Iâm not going toâŚstalk him or anything. I just need to know. In case your body is, like, found face down in the river tomorrow or something.â
âHey, Adrian? What the fuck?â you asked in disbelief. âLetâs not manifest my death, perhaps?â
âUh, itâs called being prepared.â
âYouâre catastrophizing, and itâs freaking me out,â you muttered.
âWell, itâs not like youâre never going to die!â he argued, tossing his hands up. You sighed a sigh that was dredged from somewhere deep within your soul. Many things had changed in the past few months, but Adrian Chase was not one of them. The only difference was now he liked you - you suspected there was a chance youâd surpassed Rip in the friendship rankings at last, but Adrian had neither confirmed nor denied.
âIâm not going to tell you this guyâs name so you can stalk him, Adrian,â you said finally. Well, that, and because, of course, he did not exist.
âI just said Iâm not going to stalk him. Iâm starting to think you donât listen to me sometimes,â he moped. You grinned, unable to resist the bait as he followed you out into the hallway.
âSorry, did you say something?â
You were freshly showered and sprawled out on the couch with no plans but eating a bunch of junk food and watching garbage television so you could fully turn your brain off. Or, at least, make an attempt. Unfortunately, you never really could turn your brain all the way off. Something work-related always managed to find a way in.Â
But then, there was the sound of something at your front door: the knob turning with its distinctive scrape that youâd never gotten around to texting your landlord about and the sound of your front door slowly opening. Footsteps approached down the hall and you were, once again in the face of imminent danger, completely frozen. Your first thought was, oh my god, they are gonna find me face down in the river tomorrow. I canât believe fucking Adrian Chase was right.
Your second thought came out of your mouth at the same time you managed to finally do something, âAdrian?â
He caught the remote youâd chucked at him with alarming ease.
âOh, hey!â he said calmly, with a lift of his eyebrows. But you could tell he was full of shit by the quick rise and fall of his shoulders as he caught his breath and tried to act like he hadnât been, what - running? It was almost like he was surprised to see you in your own living room. The kind of delighted surprise of when you run into a friend at the grocery store. The oddity of it all almost tricked your brain into thinking: right, of course Adrian is here in my living room. That was the great con of Adrian Chase - he was so disarming it sometimes made you question your own sanity. And worse still, he wasnât even doing it on purpose.Â
âUh, hey Adrian, what the fuck?â you gasped. He was a little busy looking at your legs. You snapped your fingers and his gaze latched back onto you. âHello?â
âYour legs are so shiny,â he said quietly.Â
âI just moisturized - sorry, again I ask - what the fuck are you doing here?âÂ
âOh Iâm here to take you to the bar!â Adrian grinned.Â
âAdrian, Iâm not going to the bar.â
âYou said you had a date but then I looked at your location and I saw you were still at home and I was like well thatâs weird! And then I thought your date probably cancelled - not that I can imagine anyone ever canceling on you but why else would you be sitting at home at prime date time - and that you were probably bored and that I should come pick you up.â
Your brain still hadnât quite jolted out of thereâs a stranger breaking into my apartment and into the weird, contorted comfort of seeing Adrian. You would have been more perturbed by Adrianâs absolute misuse of the agencyâs tracking system if 1) he hadnât already done that to you before, and 2) you were stuck on something else.
âWait, how did you get in?â
âYou have a key under your mat.â
âWell, not anymore,â you mumbled to yourself. You crossed your arms over your chest. âYou canât just be breaking into peopleâs apartments, Adrian.â
âItâs not breaking in if you have the key,â he said, clearly confused. You groaned and slid down the couch until you had practically sunk straight to the floor. For some unexplainable reason that was where you needed to be.Â
âAdrian, you stole the key from under my mat.â
âUh, I feel like if itâs just out in the open itâs not stealing. Besides, isnât it for emergencies? This felt like an emergency,â he said simply. Somehow, the point was sailing straight past him. You might have been touched by the idea that he thought you being stood up was an emergency, if it hadnât also involved him busting into your apartment and scaring the shit out of you.
He continued, shifting his weight slightly. âActually, maybe I should keep the spare. Just in case.â
You sighed and held your hand out towards him, palm up. âChase.â
He rolled his eyes and then finally came closer, pressing the key into your awaiting hand. He folded your fingers around the warm metal. And then, inexplicably, he sat down on the edge of your couch.
âAre you okay? Is this about your date cancelling on you?â
âItâs not about -Â
âI read somewhere that itâs better to be around people when youâre feeling big feelings. I dunno how true that is, but I think we should try it,â Adrian interjected. You dropped your head onto the coffee table with a decisive thud. You knew you should just be honest - you lied because it was easier than saying the strange truth out loud. That you didnât know how to be wanted.
âAdrianâŚâ you groaned.
âAll your drinks are on me?â
You sat up and looked at him. âDeal.â
âItâs a little on the nose for the team, isnât it?â you asked, staring up at the flickering neon sign for the bar. The Gunner.Â
âWhat do you mean?â Adrian asked, staring back at you blankly, his breath a small white burst in the freezing night air. You cocked your head slightly, waiting for him to process. The moment did not come.
âLikeâŚâ You lifted your hands up, fingers bright red from the cold, and made finger guns and pointed them straight at Adrianâs chest. âYou guys spend like all day with guns, and then you choose the one bar in Evergreen thatâs called that?â
âOh, yeah,â he agreed with a slight nod of his head. But he did not laugh. The night was not off to a roaring success. âThat is kind of funny.â
You frowned and pressed your finger guns against Adrianâs jacket. âBang, youâre dead.â
His mouth slipped into a wide grin and he just stared down at you for a long, quiet moment. âYouâre kind of a fucking weirdo, arenât you?â
You rolled your eyes. âHa. So original. So funny.â But Adrian still looked at you in such a peculiar way, like he was considering his next words. That was very un-Adrian of him. You shifted your weight nervously.Â
âCâmon. If youâre going to drag me out of my apartment youâre going to make it worth my while.â
âHoly shit!â Adebayo cheered before the two of you had even finished crossing the threshold. She snatched a beer from Chrisâs hands and met you two by the door. She pressed the cold beer into your hands and beamed at you. âPlease tell me Adrian did not physically kidnap you to get you here.â
You chuckled. âNo kidnapping required. Just some good old fashioned peer pressure.â
The three of you joined the group around a tall table and you slid the beer back to Chris. He started to protest but you waved him off. âPlease, my tab is going firmly on the credit card of one Adrian Chase.â
Adrian leaned over and murmured in your ear, âI, uh, actually donât have a credit card. Because of the whole secret identity and everything.â
You turned your head to give him a look. âAdrian.â
He pushed his glasses up. âIs this going to be one of those times that you tell me Iâm being pedantic again?â
You nodded slowly and he rolled his eyes. âWell, sorry, for trying to be factually accurate!â
âAdrian, why donât you go get the girl a drink?â Ads offered with a less than subtle elbow into Adrianâs side. He nodded and took off without even asking what youâd like, but frankly, youâd take nearly anything to take the edge off.
âSo, Adrian broke into my apartment tonight,â you supplied, leaning your elbows on the high top. Chris snorted over his beer and Harcourt sighed.
âYeah, he does that sometimes,â she said with a pointed look at Chris. Chris shrugged.Â
âThatâs just Adrian,â Chris said, somewhat defensively.Â
âOne time he took my pants off and laundered them while I was passed out,â John muttered.Â
âThatâsâŚâ
âUnhinged?â John supplied.
âDeranged?â Harcourt offered.
You couldnât help but laugh. âBoth. And also kind of sweet?â
Chris leaned over the table until he was eye level with you. âSpeaking of pantsâŚâ
Adebayo punched him in the arm. âChris, do not!â
âDonât what?â Adrian chimed in, slipping between you and John, making an Adrian-sized space where there wasnât one before. He put three beers down in front of you and only one in front of himself and you raised an eyebrow at him.
âI thought maybe Iâd get you an espresso martini since you have a serious - and kind of concerning - caffeine addiction,â he started, with a gesture towards the beers in front of you, âbut the bartender told me to fuck off, so, I guess they donât make those here. I didnât know what kind of beer you like but I brought options.â
You tilted your chin up at him and studied the frantic, wide-eyed way in which he was looking at you. It should have been disconcerting, the ways in which he concerned himself with you, but instead it made you feel sort of warm. And you hadnât even had any alcohol to blame it on. Was this what it was to finally make a work friend?
You picked up the closest beer, tapped the rim of Adrianâs glass with your own and chugged the entire thing in one go. Chris cheered the entire way and Adrianâs eyes were locked right onto you. You came up for air, gasping, wiping beer foam from your lip and Adrian smiled - something kind of blinding and all consuming and you could only smile back.Â
Considering the sour ale taste at the back of your throat, your smile converted to a grimace. âOkay that one was disgusting.â
âDude, just show her the texts,â Chris sighed, raking a hand over his face. Adebayo, John and Harcourt had all gone off to the bathroom together, leaving you alone with Chris and Adrian. Come to think of it, Adrian hadnât left your side again since his first drink run. Heâd been in the middle of explaining several things heâd seen at work during the day that heâd wanted to tell you about, but youâd been stuck in meetings most of the day.
âIâŚdonât know what youâre talking about!â Adrian replied through gritted teeth. His eyes darted about nervously, like he was planning an escape route.Â
Your brow furrowed. âWhat texts?â
Chris reached around Adrian with one strong arm and pulled his phone from his grasp. Adrian scrambled for it but Chris unlocked it with ease and opened Adrianâs Notes app before tossing it to you. You looked down at the phone in your hands and your brain tried to make sense of what you were looking at. But utterly devoid of context and a few beers deep your brain was swimming against the current.
âWhat am I looking at?â you asked as you kept scrolling. Memes, links to articles about various topics - some crime, some celebrity news, one seemingly about seahorse migration? - and fragments of text. Things that didnât really seem to make any sense at all together, but had a weird kind of familiarity to it. At the very bottom of the (long) note, you read:Â
hey hope youâre having fun on your date! but donât have too much fun if you know what i mean do u own pepper spray btw?
You looked up at Adrian, still squinting in focus, and found him watching you intently.Â
âEvery time I want to text you something I put it in here instead,â he said simply. âYou never gave me your number, so.â
You stared at him for a long moment, trying to parse through the peculiarity of it all before you looked back at the phone in your hand and opened his contacts. Adrian reached for the phone but you brushed him aside.Â
âOh, uh, hold on, wait!â
But you didnât get very far because there, at the top of his contacts was: â¨đ§ââď¸ Camera Girl đ§ââď¸â¨You held the phone up towards him with a frown. âI thought you said I never gave you my number.â
âI said you never gave it to me. I didnât say I didnât have it,â he scoffed.Â
You laughed. You couldnât help it. The whole thing was so, so absurd. Just a few months ago Adrian was perfectly content to insult you to your face and now he was scared to send you a text. You might have been smug about it, but instead it just made you a little bit sad and you werenât totally sure why.
âYou can text me, Adrian,â you said with a slight wince. You knew you were maybe opening the floodgates.Â
âI can?â he asked, strangely breathless. You studied the features of his handsome face, the way his eyes had sparked a new fire in them. Oh god, you were going to regret it, werenât you?
You nodded tightly. âYes.â
âOkay,â he said. He smiled crookedly. âCool. Cool cool cool.â
Adebayo returned only to drag Adrian with her to the bar to help transport another round of drinks. You joined the conversation John and Harcourt were having but felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. Your screen glowed in your palm, one unread text message on display.
Unknown Number: hey đ§ââď¸Â
You looked up and found Adrian grinning at you from across the bar. He gave you a slight wave and you shook your head in disbelief but waved back anyway. Panic crossed his face suddenly and he looked down, his face cast in the blue-light glow of his phone. Your phone vibrated again.
Unknown Number: itâs Adrian btwÂ
âDo people really think Iâm sexy?â Adrian asked suddenly, perched on the edge of your desk. Youâd given him a slinky and it had managed to silence him for approximately two minutes.
ââSexyâ, âhotâ...other things Iâm not going to repeat. You would not believe what my eyes have seen on the internet, Adrian Chase,â you replied, amused, picking up your most-definitely cold cup of coffee.
âDo you think Iâm sexy?â
You spit your coffee back into the cup rather ungracefully. You couldnât say you had ever thought Adrian Chase would be asking you that question. Truthfully, you were uncertain how to answer. It wasnât like itâd never crossed your mind. Adoring fans on Tumblr were one thing, but youâd seen Vigilante in action in goddamn real life. And better still, youâd had the bizarre pleasure of getting to know the weird, kinda sweet dork behind the mask. Denizens of the internet, eat your heart out.
So, you decided to be honest. Sort of. âVigilante is sexy, yes.â
âBut not me?â Adrian asked, blinking slowly, his head cocked in that way he sometimes did when he was trying to truly understand something.
âI didnât say that,â you replied, finding yourself oddly uncollected. You didnât know how to discuss this without offending him, but also without giving him the wrong idea. Because you and Adrian Chase were never going to happen.
A genuine grin spread across his lips. âSo you do think Iâm sexy?â
You let out a laugh and looked down, realizing suddenly as you gazed at your lap that your knees were awfully close together. You dragged your gaze back up to his face and you watched his expression shift from something you feared was resembling adoration back to his version of neutral.
âI think youâre something else entirely, Adrian Chase,â you said. It was an admission, of sorts. And it was also the truth. How could you possibly put a single adjective on the tornado of a human being that was the man standing before you? He smiled tightly, but mercifully seemed to move on.
âHow do they know Iâm hot or whatever if they donât even know what I actually look like?â he asked suddenly.
âYouâre a faceless vigilante in a skin tight suit, of course they think youâre sexy. They can project whatever they want onto you. And thatâs with you publicly being wanted for murder. Imagine all the dropped panties if they saw you saving a kitten from a tree or something!â
You turned back to your monitor - you owed the Park Service team at Olympic National Park a feature on Eagly by the end of the day. Adrian had actually had a few helpful comments at the beginning, but it had quickly devolved into a disarray of questionably accurate animal facts.Â
âWe could do that.â
âWe could do what?â
âSave a kitten from a tree. OrâŚI donât knowâŚsomethingâŚcute. I donât know! Youâre the genius here, youâll come up with something good.â
You must have stared at him in disbelief because he continued, âIt would get Checkmate some good buzz, and youâd come across like super smart and savvy and Iâd get people wet? I think it sounds good for us all.â
âYouâd really be down for that?â
âFor you? Iâd be down for anything.â
âWhyâd you delete that post of Judomaster?â Adrian asked, a peculiar lilt to his tone. As it turned out, strolling the streets of Evergreen looking for something good was harder than it seemed.
âWhat?â
âWas it because heâs a little demon twink?â Adrian asked, turning around so he could walk backwards in front of you.
âFirst of all, where did you even learn that phrase? Second of all, no, I deleted it because someone kept spamming the comments saying his logo just looks like someone splashed cum on his chest and I was getting annoyed.â
âI meanâŚit does,â Adrian replied simply. âIs he not a demon twink?â
You laughed so sharply it also caused you to snort. You could see Adrianâs eyes crinkling with a grin even through the red visor of his mask. âI thought you and Rip were finally getting along?â
âWeâll never get along,â he said seriously. His eyes narrowed. âNot really.â
âAnd whyâs that?â you asked, genuinely curious.
âBecause he knocked me out one time and then my balls got electrocuted and my pinky toe got cut off!â he exclaimed.
âYouâre missing a pinky toe?â you asked, trying to take that very seriously. It was so very Adrian to not let something like that go - no matter how many times heâd been punched, shot or stabbed.
Adrian looked down and kicked at a small pebble. âWell, no. I still have my pinky toe. But I almost lost it and thatâs what matters.â
He looked back at you and groaned. Clearly you were not doing a great job at masking your amusement. âIt was very stressful!â
âHey, I believe you,â you said breezily, lifting your hands up in defense.Â
âYouâre a real sick freak, you know that?â Adrian chastised. You were hard pressed to take it seriously. âTorture is so not funny.â
âWhat about when youâre doing it?â you asked.
He paused and seemed to give it genuine consideration. âI donât torture. Usually. I kill. Thereâs a difference.â
You smiled tightly and tried to consider it in the way you imagined Adrian did. Youâd spent enough time around him to understand that to him, killing quickly and efficiently was the more moral thing to do. Torture prolonged the inevitable. A small part of you longed for the days when the things you had to consider looked more like Meyers or Colbert? and less murder or torture?
Unfortunately, you were too wrapped up in your thoughts to side-step the rather large hole in the concrete and you promptly ate shit.
Or, you would have, had Adrianâs fast reflexes not clicked into place and his arms not wrapped around your waist tightly.Â
âHoly shit!â you yelped, your fingers clawing at his armor for leverage. You were safe and secure but still basically perpendicular to the ground and you couldnât help the feeling heâd let go and send your ass straight to the concrete. As if he could read your mind, he stood upright, hauling you with him and planting you straight back onto your feet. But he didnât let go and, in fact, his hands drifted to your hips.
âYou really canât take me anywhere, can you?â you managed through laughter.Â
The look on Adrianâs face, even through the visor, was one of consternation. You patted your palm against his chest plate. âIâm fine. Seriously. Consider me another citizen of Evergreen saved. Vigilante, my hero.â
Adrianâs eyes darted back and forth across your face and his gloved fingers pressed firmer into your skin. Oh. He liked being called a hero. His eyes widened and he released you from his firm grip suddenly and took a step back.
âI have an idea,â he bounced nervously on his toes. âGimme your phone.â
Like you were positively possessed, you handed Adrian your phone and posed at his side when he ushered you closer to take a picture. He handed you back the phone and you were still laughing as you looked at the photo. Youâd both tossed up a peace sign - Peacemaker would love that one. Maybe youâd get it framed for his desk. âUnfortunately, we cannot just post me on the Instagram, Adrian.Â
âWhy not? Itâs a good face. A great face, even,â he said with absolutely zero sense of irony. You ignored the heat that was crawling up your neck.
âWell, thanks. But thatâs not really how things are done. We post this and someone recognizes me and then is like âwow, so theyâre faking contentâ and then what?â
âWe are kind of faking content, arenât we?â Adrian asked innocently.
âNo, weâre merely looking for a convenient opportunity,â you corrected with a cheeky grin. âBesides, if youâre going to fake content the whole point is to not get caught.â
âOkay,â he said seriously, with a firm nod. He took your phone again and then held the camera high, posing in the same way. Only this time he moved his peace sign-making hand to directly cover your face. You barely managed to keep it together for the photo, certain you were more of a blurry form than anything else, but Adrian seemed satisfied.
You were still laughing, even as he opened Instagram, humming quietly to himself. He flipped to the Checkmate profile and opened a story, typing furiously atop the photo youâd just taken.
âAnotherâŚthankfulâŚcitizenâŚrescuedâŚonâŚtheâŚstreetsâŚofâŚEvergreen. Face covered for privacy reasons. Obviously,â he narrated. âHashtag agirlwalkshomealoneatnight.â
âYou canât hashtag it that,â you laughed, reaching for your phone.
âAnd why not?â Vigilante protested, holding the phone high above your head. You were not going to indulge him. âItâs like a PSA.â
âItâs also the name of a movie from 2015, Adr - Vigilante,â you at least remembered to correct yourself.
âIt is? Whatâs it about?â he asked, distracted enough to lower his arms. You took the phone back and moved a few paces away as you cleaned up his typos. Tactical gloves werenât exactly easy to type in.
âUh, itâs sort of about this girl who looks like a young innocent woman but really sheâs a vampire and she preys on bad guys. I mean, thereâs more to it than that but youâd just kind of have to see it,â you replied, distracted by your impulse to delete the imperfection. Normally you wouldnât post something like this at all, but you felt an argument could be made for a kind ofâŚInstagram Takeover charm. It was spontaneous. It was candid. It was a kind of unpolished insight that people would eat right up. Vigilante: fun and relatable.
âDoes she fight crime? Because I would totally fight crime if I was a vampire.â
You looked up at Adrian, catching your own expression in the reflective red visor. âYou already fight crime.â
âOh. Yeah. Good point!â
A notification popped up before you could even close out of Instagram.
adebangyo: adrian give the phone back right now!!!! checkmatehq: donât worry, phone is safely back in the proper hands adebangyo: girl⌠adebangyo: whyâs this kind of cute? adebangyo: iâm screenshotting adebangyo: saving for later adebangyo: đ
âWhy are you smiling like that?â
Another notification popped up.Â
mrsvigilante: OMG and heâs funny??? đâ¤ď¸đ¤¤ mrsvigilante: whoâs the girl tho đľâđŤđĄ
Your head snapped up as you pocketed the phone. You were sure your smile was gone now. âLike what?â
âI donât know. I donât like it when you smile at your phone like that. A phone shouldnât make you smile. I should make you smile.â
You nudged his shoulder with yours and grinned, wide and false at him. âHappy?â
Adrian winced. âEw. No. Your face looks all weird like that. Stop!â
You widened your eyes, fake grin spreading. âI donât know what you mean.â
âYouâre freaking me out!â
âGood.â You stopped smiling and enjoyed the slightly frantic pant of Adrianâs chest. Then you promptly cleared that thought right out of your brain. âAnd for the record, Vig. Never tell a woman to smile.â
âI mean, Iâm pretty sure I was actually telling you not to smile,â he argued.Â
âWow, so you just like telling women what to do with their bodies, hm?â you taunted.Â
âFucking excuse you, Iâm a feminist!â
You could feel your phone vibrating repeatedly in your pocket but you just smiled at Adrian (a real one this time) and ignored it.
âWould you kill a vampire?â you asked as your eyes drifted from the movie to Adrian sitting beside you. Adrian hadnât forgotten about your little A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night anecdote, and had bothered you for two weeks straight about coming over to watch it with you.
âI think the preferred term is a Dracula.â
You nearly choked on your popcorn. âWhat?â
âI think vampires prefer to be called Draculas.â
âWhat? I mean, first of allâŚno they donât? Theyâre fictional. And second of all, Dracula is a specific vampire, not like a whole species. Heâs just some guy!â
âHa! Okay, and, Iâm about to be sarcastic here: whatever you say,â he said with a wink. You rolled your eyes at him.
âYou really are an idiot sometimes, you know that, Chase?â
âYeah but you hang out with me anyway so, what does that make you?â he replied with a sort of waggle of his head.Â
âOh definitely also an idiot,â you laughed. âBut at least I can admit it.â
âThatâs actually a really easy thing to admit. Youâve got like, a million and a half secrets - admit one of those to me right now.â
âWhy the fuck would I do that?â
âUh, because weâre friends? And friends tell each other secrets, right?â he asked like he himself wasnât actually certain. âLike, for example, I have a secret room in my momâs basement where I keep all my Vigilante stuff and thereâs likeâŚa lot of cocaine in there.â
âWhy do you have a lot of cocaine?â
âWhat else am I supposed to do with it after I break up a drug ring?â he asked in a tone of voice that he implied he thought you might be stupid. You didnât know what to do with that information at all. âOkay now itâs your turn.â
âI donât have any secrets,â you said simply, ignoring him and turning back to the movie. He huffed and grabbed the bowl of popcorn from your lap. You protested faintly until you looked at Adrian holding the bowl to his chest and rapidly shoveling popcorn into his mouth.
âPopcorn penalty until you tell me a secret,â he said, mouth full, and popcorn spilling all over your couch.
âOkay, okay! UmâŚoh, Harcourt has been teaching me to shoot!â you admitted. It was true, youâd taken her up on her offer. You didnât need to be out in the field, and frankly, it was better for everyone if you werenât, but you thought it might behoove you to at least learn the basics.Â
Adrian chewed slowly and then swallowed. A frown pulled at his lips. âI already knew that.â
âWhat?â you gasped. âHow? I didnât tell anyone and I know for a fact Harcourt didnât tell you that.â
âOh, yeah, no, I knew because you stopped wincing at the sound of gunfire so much. And also, every time you two come back you smell like gunpowder. Seemed kind of obvious to me,â he said simply. You leaned forward and dropped your forehead onto his shoulder, giving up.
âYouâre kind of terrifying sometimes, Adrian,â you admitted. Up so close you could feel, rather than hear, him inhale sharply.
âBut youâre not scared of me, right?â
You lifted your head to look at him, feeling guilt wrenching at you with the tender and quiet way he asked the question. He was so close, your knee pressed against his hip, and suddenly you found that your answer to the question had changed.
âOf course Iâm not scared of you,â you lied with a smile. Adrianâs eyes searched yours for a moment but if he detected the falsehood he didnât press. You grabbed the popcorn bowl from his lap and made for the kitchen to refill. You didnât have to turn to know that he followed close behind. He leaned up against the counter as you tossed another bag into the microwave.
"You should let me teach you to throw knives," he suggested like it was a normal, casual statement to be making. Though, you supposed, for Adrian it was.Â
"Why?"
"Because Harcourt gets to teach you something and you guys are barely even friends!"
"Okay, bold claim to be making right now..."
"Also throwing knives is sick as hell and I think you'd probably look hot doing it," he continued. You crossed your arms over your chest and listened to the popcorn popping for just a moment.
"I'll think about it."
âWould you ever wanna play D&D with me?â he asked suddenly, slamming down his can of Coke on the counter. Sure, a natural segue between knife throwing and table top RPGs. Well, actually, now that you thought about it...
âOh, I - I mean, isnât it like, very time consuming? I have a lot of work on my plate right now.â Because you and Peacemaker tag-teamed blowing a manâs brains out in broad daylight last week, you thought but didn't say.
âWeâre hanging out right now, though? Itâd be exactly that but weâd also be roleplaying. Iâve actually had this idea for a campaign that I think youâd really like!âÂ
When you donât say anything one way or the other he continues: âSo I was thinking a lot about your skillset in real life and I was like hmm, that kinda reminds me of a bard! Buuut I think it could be cool to have it be so that your bard was, like, cursed by a wizard or something to have their natural charm and persuasion work backwards. Because youâre really clever and charming and smart naturally, so youâd basically have to fight those instincts. Anyway, totally your call when creating your character, but something to think about. If you want to play, I mean. Which, you totally donât have to.â
It took you aback slightly. You couldnât really make heads or tails of what he was suggesting but he was excited and that was enough for you. âOkay, sure.â
âWait, really?â
âAnything for you, Adrian Chase.â.
âReally?â he asked, mouth agape. He pumped his fist and then muttered as you walked back to the living room, âWatch out, Eagly.â
It sounded like something had been thrown against your front door. You sighed and sunk back into your couch, waiting for the sound of the front door opening and Adrianâs voice calling out as had become something you were hesitant to call a habit, but it had happened no less than three times. A few quiet seconds passed and there was no bright, loudâŚeverything Adrian. Something wasnât right - it was as if someone had plucked a string inside your chest and it was reverberating a song of warning inside your skull. For a split second you considered reaching for one of the knives Adrian had given you. There was one in the coffee table drawer, one tucked into the side of the couch... But you were out of your blanket and practically launching yourself over the back of the couch in a split second. You unlocked your door, fumbling with the chain Adrian had taken it upon himself to install for you. While you werenât home, mind you. It was just so hard to be mad at him sometimes.
You pulled your door open and Adrian nearly fell on top of you, his body leaned haphazardly against the doorframe. He was dripping blood onto the doormat. He managed a breezy, âOh hey!â
âJesus Christ, Adrian!â you hissed out, grabbing him by hooking your hand into the collar of his chestplate. You slammed the door behind him and he was already reaching up to drag his mask off. âWhat happened to you?â
âHowâre your sewing skills?â
âAbsolute shit,â you replied, confused. His brow pinched and his mouth quirked like heâd expected that answer. And yet he had chosen your door to bleed all over. âCome on, letâs get you into the bathroom.â
Once Adrian was situated on the edge of your bathtub and you had scrounged out your First Aid Kit you decided to ask.
âWhy are you here?â
âI needed somewhere to lay low.â
âAnd bleed out, apparently.â
âI thought you might be able to help?â he said like he was unsure of the truth of it himself.
You raised an eyebrow. âWhatâs the real reason?â
âUm, you posted on your Close Friends story like 15 minutes ago so I knew you were still awake.â
âYou got shot and your first thought was to check my Close Friends story?â
âI got stabbed, and actually my first thought was âowâ, so.â
You froze. âWait a second, since when are you on my Close Friends story?â
âSince you left your phone on your desk and I thought youâd probably forgotten to add me. Since we only just became Close Friends in real life.â
âAdrian.â But he just flashed you a pained but genuine smile and your resolve disappeared. He wasnât totally wrong anyway - you had forgotten. âHow many times do I have to tell you not to touch my phone!â
âBuuuut if I hadnât I wouldnât have known you were awake and that you could save me and I probably would have bled out in an alley somewhere instead.â
âAdrian, you could have gone to a hospital. OrâŚor, I donât know! Called Chris, or Ads or Emilia or anyone more equipped to help you than me.â
âYeah, sure, but I donât want to die in anybodyâs arms but yours.â
Your hand flexed against his wound and he hissed through his teeth. âFuck! Sorry!â
âItâs okay! It doesnât hurt that bad anymore!â he said weakly. When you looked up at him again he was pallid, his head lolled against his shoulder.Â
âJesus Christ! Adrian!â you shouted. He didnât stir. You cursed under your breath repeatedly as you leaned up between his legs to fumble for a pulse. It was there - thready and slow, but still beating. Still, you needed him awake. You fumbled for your phone and started to search YouTube for wound treatment videos just in case, blood smearing across your screen. An ad blared to life and you dropped your phone onto the bathroom sink to wait it out, returning to check his pulse again.
You leaned forward, prepared to pull back and slap him straight out of unconsciousness, when you were halted by the sight of him. Something about him so still, and so, so quiet made your chest hurt. He wasnât meant to be like that. Not Adrian.Â
With 30 seconds still remaining on an ad placement for fucking Purdue University and desperation coursing through your veins, your hand met his cheek hard and he gasped awake, jolting forward, connecting his forehead with your nose.Â
âOh fuck!â you exclaimed, clamping a hand over your nose. You could already feel the warm heat of blood oozing out.Â
Adrianâs eyes were wide, frantic. He was alert, even if his posture was still slack. âWhat was that?â he gasped. âWere you trying to kiss me?â
âWhat?â you asked in disbelief, garbled through your hand and blood. His abdomen tensed and blood rushed from his wound again. You cursed once more and gave up on your nose, grabbing more gauze from the First Aid kit and pressing it to his wound. He hissed.Â
âWhoahâŚwhat happened to you?â he asked, one gloved hand weakly reaching for your chin before falling back into his lap. His head rolled back again, like it was too heavy for his neck to hold upright. You grabbed hold of the front of his suit by the neck and yanked him upright.Â
âStay with me, please, Adrian,â you yelped. âI canât do this without you. You need to talk me through this. Otherwise weâre getting our medical advice from YouTube.â
âThereâs actually some pretty good stuff on there,â he slurred.Â
âAdrian!â
âRight! Right, okayâŚâ he said slowly. âWe gotta get this off.â
He gestured vaguely at his uniform with his chin. You reached for the pair of scissors and he squirmed. âNo, no, sewing this thing is a bitch. JustâŚjust lemmeâŚâ
He reached over his shoulder and began unbuckling various straps until his armor dropped to the floor. Then he pawed uselessly at the zipper at the nape of his neck. He dropped his arm to his lap, panting. âYou might have toâŚitâs just a zipperâŚâ
âOh!â you exclaimed and stood up to hastily pull the zipper down his back. You sort of tucked his face into your shoulder, leaning his torso forwards so you could reach. You held the back of his neck with one hand, while you unzipped with the other, your fingers weaving into the matted curls at the nape of his neck.Â
Once Adrian was maneuvered out of the top half of his suit and his undershirt had been tossed aside, you had to take in what was actually before you.Â
âHoly shit,â you muttered. The blood was actually a good distraction, otherwise you would have had exactly too much time to think about the thick muscle of his chest.Â
He looked down at his chest. âOh thatâs not so bad.â
âNot bad?â you asked in disbelief. Blood was oozing from the wound in his side - you came to your senses and grabbed a stack of gauze and leaned forward between his legs to apply pressure.Â
âIâve had worse,â he said. You werenât sure how that could be true. Sure, his torso was smeared with blood, but you could see that the skin was smooth. A couple of mottled bruises in various states of healing, but no scars.Â
âApply pressure until bleeding stops, clean wound, dress,â he rattled off, his voice sounding distant. You pinched the skin of his arm and he yelped in surprise. âWhat the fuck!â
âStay awake, you idiot,â you hissed, but it lacked your usual vigor. It was a desperate sound, and you hated the way it tasted in your mouth. You sat back, taking care to keep the pressure behind your fingertips against his wound. You werenât sure how long it would take to fully stop bleeding so you tried to make yourself comfortable - well, as comfortable as one could be on the cold tile floor between the knees of a bleeding man. You rested your elbow on his thigh and leaned and let yourself shift some of your weight against his leg.Â
âYouâre bleeding,â he said again, faintly. You glared up at him through your eyelashes and turned your head to wipe your nose on your sleeve.Â
âYeah, well, getting headbutted will do that,â you replied. You dropped another blood-soaked piece of gauze into the sink basin.Â
âWhat - who the - who the fuck headbutted you?â he asked through gritted teeth. He leaned forward, reaching for your face but you batted his hand away.
âYou know youâre a really piss-poor patient for a guy who has made a habit of getting injured,â you muttered.
âWell maybe youâre just a really bad nurse,â he bit back. You arched an eyebrow and sat back on your heels.Â
âYes, Adrian, I am a bad nurse! I have no idea what the fuck Iâm doing!â you exclaimed. âThey pay me to do PR, and arrange brand deals, and interviews, and sort your public images and, and I donât know, sometimes make graphics in Canva!â
âIs that what your job is?â he asked with a grimace.
âThatâs not the point! The point is you canât just scare me like that! I thought my best friend was going to die right in front of me and there was nothing I could do to fix it. Fuck you, Adrian! Fuck you for, for getting hurt, and for making it my fucking problem!â
But Adrian just grinned. âIâm your best friend.â
It wasnât a question. It wasnât really a statement either. It felt like a declaration of something more important.
âAnd Iâm your goddamn fixer,â you muttered, wiping sweat from your brow on the back of your other bloodstained sleeve.
Adrianâs eyes lit up as he repeated, âMy fixer.â
âNow donât go changing my contact name to Fixer,â you grumbled as you peeled the gauze back to take a look. The bleeding had finally seemed to stop, so you made quick work of cleaning it and placing a fresh piece of gauze on top.
âI really think youâre going to need stitches.âÂ
âOkay,â he said simply. âDo you have a needle?â
âFor likeâŚhuman skin?â You shook your head. âI think I have a sewing kit somewhere.â
âThatâll do,â he replied, looking somewhat lucid and concentrated. You pushed yourself up from the floor and raced into your bedroom, terrified to leave him alone. You scrambled through your desk drawer until your fingers found a tiny, absolutely untouched sewing kit. It would have to do.
You cleaned the needle off with alcohol and handed it over to Adrian.Â
âOkay, Iâm going to get into your bathtub for this part,â he explained, already in the process of lowering himself in when you grabbed him firmly by the arm and helped him the rest of the way in.
âIs this for the blood?â you wondered aloud. It seemed a moot point - blood was effectively everywhere in your small bathroom.
Adrian managed a kind of wheezy laugh. âNo, itâs just easier for me to do it laying down.â
The next five minutes passed in painful silence as Adrian hissed and cursed his way through stitching his own gaping wound back together and all you could do was watch on helplessly. You couldnât help but wonder what the fuck you were doing on the team at Checkmate after all - PR was one thing, you could do that in your sleep. But saving a life? First aid? Backup? You were useless. Your role was basically perfunctory - Checkmate didnât need you at all.
âDid you slap me?â he asked suddenly. You exhaled sharply. It might have been a laugh if you werenât covered in yourâŚAdrianâs blood. You could only nod in confirmation. âYou can do that again. Any time.â
âDonât be weird, Adrian.â
ââm not being weird. Iâm being honest. It was kind of thrilling.â
âYeah, a real thrill to backhand you out of the grip of Death,â you muttered back.Â
âAnd it was kinda hot,â he said with a slight shift of his hips against the acrylic floor of your bathtub. You dragged your eyes away from his pelvis and found his gaze still firmly focused on his neat stitches.
âSorry I canât really help with this part,â you murmured, changing the subject. Adrian paused and looked at you, the thread pulling taut in his grasp. He extended the bloody needle slightly towards you, as far as it could, still tethered to his skin and all.
âYou should at least try once,â he said. âWhat if next time your hot slap doesnât work and I stay unconscious?â
âAdrian Chase, there will not be a next time!â
âYou sound really confident about that.â
âIâm terribly confident. Because Iâm going to kill you myself first.â
He grinned at you, a stupid, lazy, half-thing of a smile - and your heart clenched in your chest. His eyes were still heavily lidded, but you could still feel the weight and certainty of his gaze.Â
âFine. Give me that. But youâre going to have to show me how,â you said with a sigh. Perhaps stabbing him with a needle was exactly the revenge you needed.
âDonât worry, Iâll hold your hand the whole way through.â
Adrian didnât stop holding your hand, even as you insisted that he stay still after he tied off his stitches and immediately tried to get out of the bathtub. Youâd firmly planted yourself on the floor, your torso half draped over the blood-stained edge. Heâd muttered something about just needing a quick nap and yanked your hand closer to him. You rested your chin on your arm and didnât protest. For a little while you watched the rise and fall of his chest, felt the weight of his hand in yours, firmly grasping. If the whole way through meant just a little longer, well, that was okay, too.
Youâd awoken in the morning, tucked into your own bed, with Adrian nowhere to be found. Wandering around your apartment as you tried in vain to stretch out your sore limbs (Note to self: sleeping on the bathroom floor was not a good idea drunk in college, and it certainly wasnât now) you came to the bathroom. It looked like a fucking crimescene. Blood had somehow managed to touch every single surface. You took a look at yourself in the mirror and found your face clean of blood and your hands, too. Had Adrian washed you up before he put you to bed? You tried to imagine him carrying you - youâd never been carried anywhere before - and found it stirred a strange feeling in your chest.
In the middle of your mirror was a sticky note.
brb - Adrian :)Â
He came back later that morning - thankfully not bleeding this time - armed with two coffees (both for you, as it should be), a bag full of snacks and a shocking amount of cleaning supplies.Â
While he insisted you should leave him alone while he cleaned your bathroom, you still found yourself perched atop the closed toilet lid, watching him intently. You were reluctant to leave him alone. If you were being honest, you were worried about him. And also the idea of Adrian Chase loose and unsupervised anywhere in your apartment was enough to give you heart palpitations. You werenât sure how disconcerted to be about how good he was at cleaning blood up. It was almost mesmerizingly efficient - it was clear and focused. It was the same way youâd seen him be in the field.Â
That, of course, didnât stop him from rattling off animal facts and asking you to quiz him like you were just two buddies hanging out and not like you were watching a man whoâd almost bled to death the day before clean up after himself. You scrolled through an article on manta rays, looking for something good.
âYou should let me take a look at those stitches,â you said with a feigned disinterest. You hadnât stopped thinking about his unblemished skin and now he was here before you very much not moving about like someone who had been nearly gutted not twenty-four hours prior. You also maybe hadnât stopped thinking about what his torso would look like when it wasnât stained with blood. How was he hiding all that muscle under every charmingly 90s sitcom dad outfit?
âOh, sure,â he said simply. He dropped his scrub brush and wriggled free of his rubber gloves. You looked up from your phone and he had already lifted his shirt, exposing his smooth torso to you. âI told you I really just needed to sleep it off.â
You bit down on your lower lip, chewing over the thought that had been plaguing your mind since the night before. âAdrianâŚhave you ever considered you might be metahuman or something?â
He scoffed. âYou sound so fucking stupid right now.â
âAdrian, Iâm serious. This is likeâŚvery healed for a wound you got hours ago,â you said, running your fingers gently across the well-healed skin. He recoiled slightly, his muscles flexing visibly under the skin.
âDonât touch me like that,â he said tensely. You pulled your hand back but he caught your wrist firmly between his fingers. âSorry, I didnât mean to - um, itâs just that - okay, so, itâs like - you know how most people claim they really like being touched gently?â
âSureâŚ?â you replied, pondering the very specific use of the word âclaimâ.Â
âWell I donât like it.â You waited for more explanation that did not seem to be coming. You pursed your lips and nodded thoughtfully.
âIs it like a sensory thing? Or a âyou donât think you deserve to be touched gentlyâ thing?â you asked quietly. You werenât sure youâd meant to ask it so directly.Â
Adrianâs face contorted into an expression youâd grown to know, one where he was really, genuinely considering something for the first time. His gaze would get far away, like he was searching the middle distance for something tangible.Â
âI donât know,â he finally replied.
âThatâs okay, you donât need to know,â you assured him. You bit down on your lip slightly, trying to stop the words. âBut you should know that you do. Deserve it, I mean. If thatâs what you want.â
âFrom you?â
You regretted the tiny shake of your head, but you knew it was for the best. âFrom anyone.â
âCan we stop talking about this?â he asked, his tone darkening. His chin jutted slightly as he clenched his jaw.Â
âYes, yeah, of course. Iâm sorry I didnât mean toâŚumâŚâ you looked back down at your phone, desperate for anything to slice the unbearable tension between you. Youâd never seen Adrian look like such a storm cloud, and you couldnât help but feel it was your fault. He moved away from you and resumed scrubbing the sink.
âHey, um, okay, what kind of feeder is a manta ray?â you asked.
Adrian was still looking away, funneling all his energy into the tangible task beneath his hands. It was a mission of its own kind, and hadnât you learned not to be in his way in the field?
âA filter feeder, duh,â he mumbled, seemingly responding to the sink and not you. âThey strain their food from the water, like how whales use baleen. Except manta rays have these like, built in filters in their mouths, kind of? They swim with their mouths wide open and that sort of rakes the water over their gills which separates the food from everything else.â
âWaitâŚthat was right?â
You consulted your phone one more time just to be absolutely sure and then looked around like you wanted to share your disbelief with someone else, but you were alone in your bathroom with Adrian Chase.
âWell, duh. I know a lot of animal facts.â
âRight. But umâŚâ you cleared your throat. The question that you held back. Did he know he was really fucking bad at animal facts? His brow furrowed.
âYouâre looking at me weirdly. Like youâre trying not to say something,â he assessed. He turned slightly towards you, his elbow brushing against your knee as he scrubbed the counter. âOkay, so I know I get things wrong sometimesâŚâ
âSo you do know?â you asked, like you were gasping for air.
Adrian looked down. âI just getâŚI donât knowâŚoverwhelmed? I want to share all these cool ass animal facts that I know I know and then they come out of my mouth all wrong.â
âWell, Iâm glad you got this one right.â
âItâs easier with you.âÂ
Your tucked up leg dropped to the floor with a decisive thud. There were pins and needles in your foot but you couldnât even focus on that because your brain was busy playing his words on repeat.
âMe?â
Adrian chuckled slightly. âYou know you always do that?â
âDo what?â
ââMe?ââ he pitched up his voice in a grotesque approximation of you. You punched him in the shoulder - hard - and he treated you to a smile. âI donât get why you say it like that. Itâs always you.â
âWhere have you two been?â Fleury asked with his hands on his hips. Whatever silly thing Adrian had been in the midst of saying was lost as you two emerged from the kitchen into the main area of the office. But all the chairs had been rearranged into one big circle.
âFuck,â you cursed under your breath. Then you pasted on a smile and tugged Adrian by the shirtsleeve to join everyone else who were already seated and looking abjectly miserable. âSorry, just needed some extra caffeine!â
You and Adrian grabbed the two open seats, side by side. He mouthed, âWhat is this?â
You double checked to make sure Fleuryâs back was towards you before you mouthed back: âTeam bonding.â
Adrianâs eyes widened for a moment before Fleuryâs voice made you both jump. He tapped on the whiteboard behind him which just said: TEAM BONDING.
âTeam. Bonding,â Fleury apparently felt the need to reiterate. He launched into a spiel and you caught Adsâ eye. She looked rapidly back and forth between you two and then mouthed something you couldnât make sense of.
âWhat?â you mouthed back.
She attempted again.
âWhat?â you said, this time out loud. You clamped a hand over your mouth as everyone turned to look at you. Fleury cleared his throat and you waved him on with a sheepish smile. You shrugged at Ads and she pointed down at her phone in her lap. Your pocket vibrated.
Leota Adebayo: what were u and ade up to in the kitchen? You: we were just making coffee Leota Adebayo: uh huh Leota Adebayo: seemed like a lot of giggling for making coffee đ
You rolled your eyes and held your phone up slightly in your hand so that Ads could see you actively turning it off - something you never did - just to ignore her.
âGreat, why donât you start us off, then?â Fleury said. You looked around for who he was talking to, only to realize he meant you. âGo around the circle and tell everyone what you admire about them.â
âRight,â you coughed. And then nodded. âOf course.â
You glanced around the circle and found everyone surprisingly attentive for once. Go figure.
âWell, Fleury, starting with you IâŚreally admire your initiative in creating the Team Bonding sessions. SoâŚhonored to kick off this first session like this,â you said, sure a little ass-kissing wouldnât go amiss.Â
âSasha, I admire your drive. Rip, I admire your tenacity. Harcourt, I admire your fearlessness. Ads, I admire your selflessness,â you continued, feeling like you were sort of getting the hang of it. It wasnât so bad. And none of it was a lie - you did admire them all. âChris, I admire your persistence. John, I admire your ingenuity. And Adrian, I love yourâŚâ
Chris laughed and you furrowed your brow, ignoring him and concentrating harder. There were a lot of things you admired about Adrian, trying to distill it all down into one thing seemed like an impossible task.Â
âAdrian, I love your authenticity.â
âGreat!â Fleury clapped his hands together. âWhoâs going to go next?â
âSo,â Chris interrupted. âYou love Adrian?â
For a moment you swore your heart had stopped beating entirely.Â
âWhat?â
Chris grinned. âYou said things you âadmiredâ about the rest of us but you said what you âlovedâ about Adrian.â
âThatâs not what I - I didnât mean toâŚâ you trailed off, assessing the expressions around you. They were oddlyâŚcheerful in a way that caused your palms to start sweating instantly. You shifted in your seat, crossing your legs and then uncrossing them. âWell, yeah, I mean, I love Adrian how I love all of you. And besides, you all love each other! Itâs not my fault youâre all too emotionally repressed to say it out loud.â
âThatâs actually a good point,â Fleury interjected.
âIt is?â you and Chris asked at the same time. Fleury pointed at you with his expo marker and then turned back to the whiteboard and just wrote the word LOVE on it. Then he took a step back, examined it and then stepped forward again to underline it before turning back to the group.
âNow youâre all going to have to say something you love about each other,â Fleury instructed. There was a collective cacophony of groans.
âHow is that any different than what we were doing before?â Ads exclaimed before burying her head in her hands. You let out a relieved laugh and turned to look at Adrian. But he was staring at seemingly nothing, his eyes wide, his hands gripping the arms of his chair so hard his knuckles blanched.Â
âAde? You good?â you asked, your throat suddenly tight as you touched his arm. His head jerked back to look at you, like heâd been shaken awake from a dream.
âIâŚâ he trailed off, speechless for once. Then he pressed his lips into a firm line, a slight furrow to his brow and nodded.
âYou havenât looked at your phone once tonight,â Adrian said.Â
âWhat?â you laughed around a mouthful of sandwich, and thought, for a brief moment, you were about to choke to death as Adrian slapped your back. You felt for the brick beneath you and steadied yourself on the ledge you were seated on. The roof of the old movie theater downtown had become a meet up spot for you both. Somewhere for Adrian to take a break from patrolling and for you toâŚwell, anyway, the stoned teens who basically ran the place didnât give a shit, and it did have the best view of Evergreen of all the rooftops you two had tried. The sandwiches Adrian would make for you both were a nice bonus.
âDo I need to do the Heimlich? Iâll do it. Câmere, stand up,â Adrian said, voice rising in pitch. He grabbed at your arm but you shook him off. You placed your hand flat against his chestplate.
âAdrian,â you managed. You reached back for your water and swallowed hard. âIâm okay.â
âWhew! That would have been a really sad way to go.â
âChoking to death on a sandwich on a rooftop with an absolute weirdo as the only witness? Yeah, Iâd say so,â you replied. You wiped your mouth on your sleeve. âYou know, people would probably think you murdered me.â
âNo,â he replied flatly. âBecause theyâd do an autopsy and find sandwich stuck in your throat.â
âHmm and what if everyone was like âI heard Vigilante killed a girl with a sandwichâ?â
Adrian blinked at you, as if he were attempting to genuinely consider the situation. You moved your hand to his arm and shifted slightly towards him. âAdrian. Iâm joking.â
âRight. And I knew that!â he replied, nodding a little too emphatically. He shifted slightly too, leaning in towards you. âYou know I wouldnât do that, right? Kill you? With a sandwich or otherwise?â
Your reply came quietly on your lips, âI had a feeling.â
And then your sandwich slid off of your lap and into the alleyway several stories below. You both bent at the waist, peering over the edge. Adrianâs hand gripped at the back of your shirt, like he was suddenly afraid you might fall. When you sat back upright you could only look into his wide eyes and burst into laughter.
âFuck!â you lamented, eyes watering as you continued to be consumed by laughter. Adrianâs hand flattened out against the small of your back and it did not escape your notice that it lingered. You missed it the moment it was gone.
âOh no,â you whined. âUgh, now you do have to kill me.â
âWhat?â Adrian asked in disbelief. You gestured vaguely to the darkness the sandwich had disappeared to its death into.
âLittering.â
He was quiet for a moment before he burst into his wide, disquieting, strange laughter. He actually and literally slapped his knee.Â
âGood one!â he exclaimed. Then his face shifted quickly back to something serious. He lowered his voice like you were sharing some secret. âOkay, but it will bother me if we donât clean that up before we leave, so - â
âWe will clean it up, I promise.â You held your pinky up to him and he wrapped his gloved one around yours. He looked at your intertwined hands.
âDid you know otters will hold hands while they sleep so they donât drift apart in the night?â he asked, his voice low and humming with a particular kind of intensity. You actually did know that, but you smiled anyway and shook your head.
âThatâs kind of sweet,â you remarked.Â
âDo you remember when you held my hand all night in the bathtub because you were afraid I was going to die?â he said quickly, green eyes searching your face for something.
âOf course I do, Adrian. That was likeâŚonly a few weeks ago.â You didnât feel the need to correct him on the matter - heâd been the one to take your hand and not let it go. And you werenât the one about to die in that scenario, so what had he been afraid of?
âMaybe weâre kind of like otters,â Adrian said.
âMaybe,â you agreed.Â
Adrian was quiet for a long moment, and you said nothing else, afraid itâd be the wrong thing and youâd accidentally disassemble the clumsily built something between you.
âOkay, I know I just said weâre like otters and otters just hold hands but I would really like to kiss you right now, so maybe forget the otter thing for a second so we can kiss. If you want to, I mean. Which, you might not want to and thatâs okay, too. We can actually just be otters, actually, and forget I said the thing about kissing and - â
You inclined your head towards him and met his mouth, whatever words he was about to say next dying on your lips. You started to lift your hand towards his face but you dropped it back into your lap, unsure how to touch him, if at all. But before you could give it much other thought at all Adrian had pulled back and was staring at you intently.
âI was thinking about yesterday at Team Bonding? And how you said you love me?â
You didnât mean to laugh. But you couldnât help it. It came from your mouth like some kind of defense mechanism. âAdrian, IâŚâ
âJust let me finish. Please? I was looking at you and I was thinking, 'wow, someone should make her sandwiches every day for the rest of her life' and then I thought, maybe that someone should be me. Even if you dropped them all, I'd still keep making them. I don't even know if that makes sense, but I think it does? And, I don't know if that's what love is, but I think it might be?â
You werenât sure what to say to that. It was equal parts endearing and utterly painful. Something cold and familiar wrenched itself loose in your chest.
âYou donât mean that, Adrian.â
âBut I do! Iâve thought about this a lot. Like, more than is probably normal probably.â
You winced. âYou donât know me. If you did really know me I donât think youâd like me very much at all.â
âBullshit,â Adrian cursed. Then he threw his hands up. âSorry. But it is bullshit. All these months - all these late nights just the two of usâŚI feel like - no, I do know you. I know your favorite foods and your favorite color and how you firmly believe people shouldnât butter their popcorn, or that the TV volume should only ever be set at an even number or multiples of five, or that you didnât really have a Hinge date that night you first came out to drinks and that you were totally using that as an excuse because you were afraid everyone would see whatever incorrect version of yourself lives in your head. But you and I both know that person doesnât exist. The person that does exist is really smart, and funny, and hot, and looks out for me even when I donât make it easy, and is, like, surprisingly good at D&D.â
He ducked his head slightly, looking away from you. âAnd above all that you still like me despite knowing me. I canât say the same for most people.â
The bank alarm blared suddenly, piercing the quiet night and sparing you from having to form your lips around any words at all. You think you may have just asked him to kiss you again. Or maybe you would have said something awful instead - opened your mouth and ruined everything because that was easier than getting what you wanted. You guessed youâd never know.
âPlease stay here,â he urged as he swung his leg over onto the fire escape ladder. He paused and looked at you for a moment that may have been an hour, or the space between heartbeats - you really couldnât be sure. Not when he was looking at you like that. Then he slipped his mask back over his head and dropped out of sight completely.
You leaned over the ledge and watched as Adrian approached the would-be bank robbers with a kind of casual ease. You could tell from his posture and the way he moved his hands that he was talking, and you couldnât help but wonder what he might be saying. He was always so much more physically animated when he was in the suit. But the leader of the group stepped towards him and he pulled the machete off of his back and sliced the manâs throat in one fell swoop. Your fingers flexed against the stone with each punch, each blow, each impact of the fight below. And you watched on, horrified and impressed and maybe just a little turned on, as he dispatched the rest of them with the same amount of energy expended as if he was just taking a stroll in the park.Â
Worse than the bodies littering the ground was the feeling that came over you. Something youâd been able to tamp down for months now. Something that would surely swallow you whole if you let it.
In that moment you knew two things with absolute clarity:
You were in love with Adrian Chase.
and
You needed to leave Evergreen as soon as fucking possible.
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