Fandom Delight

You just got back from the gym, sweaty and out of breath from dragging your gym bag up the stairs. Adrian is on the couch nursing some bruises he recieved in yesterday's Vigilante outing. Head phones still blaring music, you lean over the kitchen counter to switch the song.

Suddenly, you feel hands wrap around you from behind. Pulling off your headphones Adrian buries his face in your neck.

"You look amazing in these", he says. Pulling the waistband of your yoga pants. His hands wandering down to your lower back.

His eyes widen as he checks you out. "Please let me stick it in from behind", he begs.

You're surprised by his boldness and quickness but you nod your head yes.

He slowly peels off the top of the pants, leaving them just below your bottom, so he can caress your exposed skin not covered by your underwear. His hands are warm and feel good against your wanting skin.

He drops his pants, exposing how hard he has gotten. Teasing himself with one hand and pulling your panties down with the other.

"You ready for me?" he whispers, kissing your neck.

"Uh-huh", you say breathlessly

You spread yourself and arching your back so your ass pokes out enough that Adrian's throbbing cock grazes your entrance. He groans with delight as he feels your wetness. He enters you, and you grip the counter to steady yourself.

"Oh, baby, that feels so good", you moan.

Adrian thrusted deeper inside you as you back up into him.

"I don't think I'm going to last long", he says. His breathing is coarse from the heavy pounding. You can feel how ready he is to burst.

"It's okay", you turn back to kiss him.

As if he were waiting on those exact words to release himself inside you. He begins to ram into you faster, his hands roaming all over your hips, thighs, and breasts. You might just join him if he keeps this up.

"Ugh!" he calls out. "I'm so close!" he continues.

Your fingers have long turned purple from pressing hard on the granite countertop. His breathing, his fingernails engraining themselves onto your skin, the way he whispers sorry as you shift uncomfortably to release the grip. All of it almost feels just as good as him deep inside you.

Moments later, he finishes peppering kisses down your back, biting your shoulder as he slowly pulls out.

"Oh my god, that was sssoooo amazing", he says, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He helps you off your pants and underwear so you can get cleaned up before he takes off his.

"Shower time"! He excitedly exclaims. Slapping your ass as he rushes into the bathroom.

He never intended to open the box she'd left on the table. It wasn't what they were looking for, but it called to him, a silent plea amidst the flowers and stickers. Something about it was utterly intriguing. Giving in, he lifted the lid. There they were: letters, neatly folded, their envelope sealed with a heart.

The word Vigilante was written on them in a pretty cursive. Adrian's heart leapt into his throat. Three envelopes, all for his alter ego, all for him. After a quick check to ensure he was still alone, he wiped his sweaty palm on his pants and carefully extracted one of the letters. He unfolded it and started reading.

My dearest Vigilante,

The news is calling you a menace, but I know the truth. I see the important work you're doing, bringing justice to those who need it most, and I find that deeply admirable.

We've never seen your face, but in my mind, you are kind. You have to be. And I can't help but imagine you're handsome, too. How could you not be, when you stand against the worst of this city? There is nothing more attractive than that kind of courage.

I truly hope to one day know the person behind the mask.

Love,

y/n

Adrian's cheeks flushed, a warm, unfamiliar heat spreading to the tips of his ears. He'd never had someone express themselves like this, not to him, and certainly not to his Vigilante persona. Sure, there were the groupies, the adrenaline-chasers who flocked to him and Peacemaker after a successful mission. Those encounters were all frantic energy and fleeting noise, a blur of threesomes and foursomes that were forgotten by the next morning. They were a celebration of the act, not an understanding of the actor.

But this... this was different. This was quiet. This was seen.

The paper felt fragile in his still-trembling hands, a stark contrast to the cold, hard armor he usually wore. y/n didn't just see the violence of his mission; they saw the intention behind it. They called him kind. The word echoed in the silent room, a secret he didn't even know he was keeping. He found his thumb gently tracing the heart sticker on the next envelope, as if he could absorb the sentiment through touch alone.

A sudden, sharp noise from the hallway, a distant door slamming, jolted him back to reality. His head snapped up, the vigilante's instincts slamming into place. He was exposed. The letter was a vulnerability, an open door to a part of him he kept locked away.

With a haste that felt like sacrilege, he folded the letter and slipped it back into its flowery tomb. He closed the box, but the words were already seared into his mind. As he moved to rejoin the search, his movements were automatic, his thoughts a thousand miles away, lingering on the promise of a person who saw the man, not just the mask.

He saw her coming straight for him, and his heart stopped.

There she was, the author of the words still burning in his mind, walking toward him with a casual, unknowing smile. She wasn't aware of his alter ego, or that the very confession meant for a masked stranger had just unraveled the man standing before her. How could she know that he felt the same way, that he’d noticed the way she hummed while she worked or the way she always offered a kind word to everyone, even Peacemaker on his most obnoxious days?

"Adrian? Everything okay?" she asked, her head tilting. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

The question was innocent, but it felt like a interrogation. 

"I just found some old papers," he managed, his voice miraculously steady. "Nothing we're looking for."

She nodded, accepting the lie with a trusting smile that made his stomach clench with guilt. "Okay. Well, let me know if you need help. Im almost done in my section".

From your place on his sofa, you watched him unravel, your arms wrapped around yourself like a shield. His excuses washed over you, and the last of your hope for him faded. Your voice was flat, drained of all its usual energy. "Just stop, Adrian. Please." You looked away, unable to bear the sight any longer. "It doesn't matter. Do what you want. We were never really together, and... we never will be. Let's just be done with this."

He looked down at the floor, his brow furrowed in a way that was supposed to tell you he was more sorry than you could ever know. A weary sigh escaped you as you pushed yourself up from the sofa. He mirrored you, rising to his feet until you stood face-to-face, the space between you feeling both vast and suffocatingly small.

"Look," you began, your voice soft but unsteady. "We shared a kiss. And it was... lovely. And I wasn't expecting anything, I swear. I just thought... maybe..." You hesitated, the words catching in your throat before you forced them out in a fragile whisper. "I just thought maybe it meant something."

His eyes darted around the room, unable to settle on yours, as if the right words were physically hiding in the corners. "I... I do understand," he blurted out, then grimaced, realizing how it sounded. "No, that's... that's the wrong word. It's a bad word for this. It's not a math problem." He finally looked at you, his expression painfully earnest and confused. "It meant something. It did. It's just that my brain sometimes routes the good stuff to the wrong output. Like a factory recall."

The memory of his kiss was a fresh, brutal ghost in the room. It had happened just two days ago, a desperate, passionate collision that felt like a lifetime of waiting finally exhaling. He had kissed you with a steady rhythm that felt like coming up for air, and like a fool, you’d let yourself believe it was a language only the two of you shared.

Now, the image was seared into your mind: his head thrown back, some woman you vaguely recognized from his work, her hand on his zipper. The emotional whiplash left you numb on his sofa, your arms crossed not in anger, but in a desperate act of holding yourself together.

As he stumbled through excuses, your own voice sounded distant and flat when you finally cut him off. "Adrian, I don't care. Do whatever you want. It's not like we're together, or were ever together, or will ever be together."

He looked down, his face a mask of what looked like regret, but you were done buying his performances.

You sighed, a hollow sound, and got up. He followed, a helpless puppet to the tension, until you stood face-to-face. The proximity was a cruel joke.

"Look," you started, the words tasting like ash. "We shared a kiss. And it was... lovely. And I wasn't expecting a parade. I just..." You hesitated, the admission feeling like a defeat. "I just thought maybe it meant something."

It was your own fault. A catastrophic misunderstanding. The kiss that had felt like a beginning to you was clearly just an ending—a spur-of-the-moment reaction that meant absolutely nothing.

Adrian tried to speak, but the words knotted in his throat. Every attempt felt like a betrayal. He wanted to blurt out how your kiss had been on a loop in his mind since it happened. He longed to tell you that you were the only person who made the static in his head quiet down, that being near you felt like a steady, grounding current. He opened his mouth, a desperate attempt to untangle the mess inside, but nothing came out right.

"It was a mistake, the kiss, I'm sorry," he heard himself say, the words blunt and clumsy. "I shouldn't have even done it."

The effect was instantaneous. Your gaze, once sharp with hurt, now grew distant and blurry. A roaring silence filled your ears, drowning out the world until all you could hear was the frantic, pounding rhythm of your own heart, a drumbeat of pure humiliation.

And Adrian, watching the light in your eyes shutter closed, realized a second too late what his words had truly meant. He hadn't just called the kiss a mistake; he had called you one.

"(Y/n), wait! I didn't mean it like" he blurted, but you were already a ghost, moving past him with an expression so blank it was more devastating than any glare.

The door clicked shut, a sound as soft and final as a guillotine.

He stood alone in the sudden silence, his own words echoing in his head like a taunt. Mistake. Mistake. Mistake.

"Shit," he hissed to the empty room, his hands clenching at his sides. "No, that's not... it was a tactical error in the delivery of the... the data packet." He paced a few steps, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "The kiss was a successful mission. A high-value target. It was... optimal."

He stared at the door, his shoulders slumping as the flawed analogy crumbled. He had taken something perfect and run it through his broken internal processor, and he had annihilated it.

"Cool," he muttered to himself, the word dripping with self-loathing. "Really smooth, Adrian. Peak performance."

The drive home was a blank space. Your hands on the wheel, the stoplights changing color, the turn of your key in the lock, it was all autopilot, a ghost going through the motions of a life. It wasn't until the familiar weight of your own bed pressed against you that the program crashed.

A few sharp, helpless tears escaped, hot and angry against your pillow. You swiped them away almost immediately. What was there to cry about, really? The facts were simple, undeniable. It happened. He said it meant nothing. He moved on. It was a closed case.

So why did it feel like your ribs were a rusted cage, squeezing the air from your lungs? Why did the memory of his kiss, now tainted and pathetic, feel like a physical blow that left your feet in cement and your head pounding with a dull, relentless ache of defeat?

It was the death of a possibility you never even knew you'd wanted. And the corpse of it was rotting in your chest.

WEEKS LATER

The knock on your door was too hesitant to be a delivery driver. You opened it to find Adrian on your doorstep, looking like he’d fought a bear and lost. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, his shoulders hunched.

"(Y/n)," he started, his voice rough. He looked past you, then at his shoes, before forcing his gaze to meet yours. "My brain… It’s not wired for the good stuff. It gets flagged as a system anomaly. When I'm scared, it… It defaults to factory settings. Which are terrible." He took a shaky breath. "The kiss wasn't a mistake. What I said was a mistake. It was a catastrophic mission failure on my part."

He finally looked at you, his eyes wide and painfully earnest. "It meant something. It’s the only thing that has meant anything in a really, really long time. And I'm sorry I'm so bad at… this." He gestured vaguely between the two of you. "I'm trying to install a software patch."

A beat of silence hung between you. The cement around your feet felt a little lighter.

"And the… other person?" you asked, your voice quiet.

His face screwed up in disgust. "Economos was more into her than I was." He said it with such utter, ridiculous seriousness that a startled, wet laugh escaped you. It was the most Adrian Chase apology that had ever existed.

Seeing the faint smile on your face, the tension in his own shoulders eased by a fraction. "Can I… can I take you out? On a mission. A dinner mission. With… talking?"

It wasn't a fairy tale. It was messy and awkward and there were no guarantees. The ghost of that hurt still lingered in a quiet corner of your heart. But as you looked at him, standing there trying so hard to be better, you realized the corpse of that dead possibility wasn't rotting anymore. It was just… compost. And something new was stubbornly starting to grow.

"Okay, Adrian," you said, your voice soft. "A dinner mission."

He loved to tease himself with that photo, imagining you straddling him on the couch as his hand toyed with his growing cock. He'd crease his tip pretending it was you. His mind replayed old conversations, the way your voice curled around his name, the way your eyes would catch his like a cat cornering its prey. God, he loved those eyes, the quiet danger in them, the tenderness hidden beneath the mischief. Even now, with you fast asleep on the other couch, your back turned to him, he could still feel you. The air between you seemed to hum with everything unsaid. His chest ached, his pulse throbbed, every breath weighted with longing. He wanted to reach out, trace the curve of your shoulder, feel your warmth seep into his skin, but he stayed still, drowning quietly in the thought of you.

He glanced at the photo of you again, and he felt himself grow harder. He wasn't a perv or particularly lustful but there was something about you that made him think of such dirty thoughts.

You stir in your sleep and he stops pumping. His eyes are wide like a deer in the headlights. You turn to face him, your eyes take a bit to adjust but you see him. He's exposed his hand guilty around his dick.

"Adrian?" You call out. Sleep still stuck to your throat.

"Uh... I can explain?" He replies.

There's a silent moment.

"Are... are you... touching yourself?" You ask.

He is stunned, ashamed, and confused simultaneously.

"Yes", he has no choice but to admit.

"Okay, are you like watching porn or something", you ask solely out of curiosity.

"Or something..." he answers. Looking down at his phone.

You jolt up now hyper aware of the situation, noticing his phone light up on his lap.

"Oh my god, Adrian, are you on a sex phone line or onlyfans"? You laugh.

"No! His voice is shaky.

You quickly walk over to him and snatch his phone. He tries to grab it but you turn away and run to the bedroom where you lock the door.

"Y/n, please please let me explain", he calls from the door.

You giggle expecting to find someone else on the other side of the screen. You glance and it takes a moment before you realize, its you. A photo of you. The one he took at the beach.

You unlock the door and glare at him from the frame.

"You prevy, prevert. You were jacking it to my photo", you accuse.

Adrian's expression falls short of a puppy being scolded for using the bathroom inside.

He nods yes.

"Is this something you think about often? Like, you and I?" You question.

"Yes", he confesses

You toy with your lip, a faint smile playing there as you plot your next move, one you know will drive him insane. It was kind of cute that he was thinking of you while self-fulfilling.

"So, you wouldn't mind if I..." your inches away from his face, your hand slips into his boxers and you feel him getting hard. He moans to your touch.

"Fuuuuccckkk", he whimpers.

"Adrian, if you wanted me, you should have just said so", you whisper.

His breath is ragged against your mouth as he kisses you, desperate yet controlled, like he’s savoring every second he’s allowed to touch you. His teeth graze your lower lip, tugging just enough to make you gasp. He swallows the sound with another kiss, his desire pouring through every movement. He wants this, wants you, more than he’s ever wanted anything. You stroke him, thumbing his tip, feeling the pre-cum slowly leak out. His knees buckle as you tighten your grip over his throbbing cock.

"Holy shit, that feels amazing", he says into your mouth.

"You want me to make you cum?" you reply.

He nods his head yes. Looking down at your hand wrapped around him. His head tilts back in pleasure as you work him. At first, slowly reaching the base and then relaxing your muscles on the way up. He groans, and you pick up your pace, again tightening around him, and feeling the veins as he thickens.

"Uh, baby, I'm gonna cum", he whines.

Again, your pace quickens, but this time you spit on his cock. The wetness sends Adrian into a hyperbolic state of moans. He begins to fuck your hand, moving his hips to keep up with your rhythm until one final thrust melts him into you. Warm, clear liquid spilling on your hand as he kisses your neck.

"See, all you had to do was ask", you tease.

He laughs, placing his forehead on yours.

"Can I show you what I was imagining?" He asks.

"Hey man, are you into this or not", Chris said interrupting Adrian's thoughts.

"What? Yeah, of course", he replies.

"Really? Cause you kind of went limp", he points out.

Adrian looks down. The woman had her hand around his cock, but looked shocked as it fell flat.

Chris pulled Adrian aside.

"Dude, what's going on? You've been out of it since we got started", he points out.

"I don't know... I just keep thinking about... Y/N and I just feel weird about it", Adrian confesses.

"What, like you're in love or...", Chris presses him for more information.

Adrian looks down at his feet.

"I just keep thinking about her", he says.

Chris sighs looking at the women on the bed who has now covered herself with the duvet.

"Look, man, if you don't want to continue then go find her and tell her how you feel", Chris suggested.

Adrian shoots Chris a look that clearly says, “Yeah, I should’ve thought about that five minutes ago.”

“Look, man,” Chris says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think she likes you too, so before this turns into a full-blown regret-fest, maybe you should just… go.”

“Sorry!” Adrian blurts, already halfway to the door.

His helmet’s still on, but he’s fumbling his way into his clothes as he bolts outside.

The doorbell rang.

You were comfortably asleep, wrapped in warmth and dreams, when it went off again. And again.

"Fuck, who is it", you called out still groggy.

"Uh, it's Adrian", the voice calls out.

You run to the door and open it. "What are you doing here? I thought you were having a threesome or whatever and having so much fun", you mock him.

He looks down at the ground, guilt written all over his face.

“I just wanted…” His words trail off before he can finish.

“Adrian,” you say softly, trying to stay calm, “I know you don’t feel things the way most people do. I get it. I really do. But that doesn’t mean I have to be the one who gets hurt because of it.”

He looks at you with eyes heavy and somber, as though the weight of every unspoken word sits behind them. His lips part, once, twice, but nothing comes out. For the first time, Adrian doesn’t let the storm inside him spill into the world. He simply stands there, suspended between wanting to speak and fearing what the truth might do.

Then, without warning, he moves closer. The air between you thickens, humming with something fragile yet fierce. You take a step back, instinctively, but he follows, one heartbeat, one breath closer, until his hands find your waist. His touch is tentative at first, almost reverent, as if afraid you might vanish if he holds too tightly.

You mean to resist, to push him away, but the way he looks at you. The raw ache in his eyes, the silent confession trembling there, roots you in place. The world falls away until it’s just you, him, and the unspoken thing burning quietly between you both.

“I haven’t been honest with you,” he starts, voice low and uneven. “All I think about is you. Like, constantly. Even when I’m trying to focus on literally anything else, training, missions, Chris talking about Eagly, you still just... pop into my head. It’s kinda driving me insane.”

“Then why’d you go with Chris?” you ask, hurt lacing your tone.

Adrian sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “He said he wanted to bond, okay? And he’s my best friend. I thought, sure, why not? Maybe it’ll be fun, maybe it’ll, I don’t know, take my mind off you.” He looks up, eyes soft and honest. “But it didn’t. I couldn’t go through with it. It just didn’t feel right. None of it does when it’s not you.”

You give in and wrap your arms around him. He pulls you closer, holding you as if he’s afraid you might disappear. You can feel his heartbeat against yours, steady at first, then quickening.

He tilts your chin upward, guiding you gently until your lips align. For a suspended moment, he just looks at you, breathing you in, memorizing the way you feel in his arms. Then, finally, he closes the distance.

His lips are softer than you imagined, his kiss desperate yet tender, the kind that speaks of too many nights spent wanting and not enough spent having.

"Can I take you to bed?" he asks in between kisses.

"Mmmm-hmmm", you reply.

He lifts you up, one leg on either side of his hips, his hands interlocked on your ass. You kiss his neck as he places you on your bed. He took off his shirt in the process. You follow and remove your clothes, leaving your underwear on, so he can help you take it off.

"I want to taste you", he admits.

"So, taste me", you say.

He kisses your lips one more time before trailing off to your inner thighs. He grabs the fabric of your panties with his teeth and slides them off. You squirm with excitement, feeling yourself getting wet. A moan escapes your mouth as he makes his way back to your entrance, where he spreads your legs apart so that his tongue begins to lick the wetness that has formed outside. You guide him to your favorite spot, and he begins to suck and lick circles around your clit.

"Oooohhhh, that's so fucking good", you murmur.

Feeling encouraged, Adrian intensifies his movements, this time adding a couple of fingers, which makes you throb and ache.

"You're gonna make cum", you call out. Holding onto his sweaty curls, pulling at them when he reaches a spot that makes your back arch.

"Come for me, baby", he says before diving deep into you again. His tongue flicks and sucks in just the right way. You groan and bring your knees to the sides of his face. His hands have now found your breast. Pulling down your bra with one hand, he begins to circle your nipples. Alternating between one and the other. Your whole body is about to erupt. One final move, Adrian holds your waist down and moves his tongue rapidly until you find yourself spilling onto his face. Which he gladly drinks.

"Holy shit, that was amazing", you laugh as you try and catch your breath.

"Does that make up for tonight?" He asks cheerfully, wiping you off his mouth.

His eyes found yours, holding a soft wildness, a blend of awe and pure devotion. He was drinking in not just your form, but the essence of you: the gentle sway of your step, the cascade of your hair against your neck, the delicate perfume that arrived with you like a soft announcement. It was a fragrance that would linger on his clothes for days, a sweet, haunting reminder he would seek out with a closed-eyed smile when the distance between you grew too long.

Being tied to the bedpost, you stand over him, seductively swaying and removing your clothing. You unclasp your bra, and Adrian squirms, desperate to touch you, although the sensation of soft skin is almost too intense for his liking. It was you that he loved, regardless of the unbearable smoothness. He was still obsessed with your breasts and the way they bounced.

"Please, baby, let me touch you", he begs.

His eyes are whiny and needy.

You shake your head no with a mischief grin.

"Baby, please", he sounds like he's in pain.

"Adrian, be patient", you say sternly.

He frowns but stays quiet, simply admiring your silhouette as you straddle him on the bed.

"I know you're excited, but I promise it'll be worth it." You continue.

Wrapping your hand around his stiffened cock. He groans a sweet sound, and you feel that pull below you.

You lick your lips and spit on his dick. "Oh my fucking...", he moans as you begin to move your hand down his shaft, thumbing his tip in the process. Pre-cum already beginning to puddle.

"I don't think I can take any more", he whimpers.

At this, you pull down your panties, throwing them to the side. The desire in his eyes makes you forget the games you were just playing. Fuck the stupid strip tease. His want, his yearning, makes you need him.

The wetness pulls down, throbbing inside you, and threatening to burst. You slide down him, slowly and deliberately.

"Dear god", he sobs.

"I'm not going to last", he says in between breaths.

"That's okay", you whisper, kissing down his neck.

You begin to move your hips gently at first. Adrian's arm twitched against the restraints, his biceps flexed, and it made you wetter. So you pick up your momentum. The sounds of your wetness against his hard cock were enough to drive you over the edge. But you wanted to savour the moment.

"Ugh!" Adrian calls out again. He is a puddle underneath you. Squirmin' and wiggling, pleading with his eyes for you. You bounce harder on him and he cums as quickly as you began.

"FUCK!", he yells.

"Shit, shit, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, baby. I'm sorry..." You crash into his lips before he can apologize again. He whines into your mouth.

After a brief moment, you untie him. His hands are eager to find you again. Despite his boundaries, he needs to feel you.

You giggle as you lie on his chest. "What are you laughing at"? He asks a little nervously.