Janiebop

“Have you tried cocaine?” you’d asked, a small smirk on your lips.

“What? No! Cocaine is like…” he’d lowered his voice and leaned over the counter, scowling. “Very illegal.” 

Then he leaned back abruptly as if burned, and looked you up and down. “Why? Do you do cocaine?”

“Not my scene,” you’d replied, your turn to lean forward conspiratorially. “But I can make you something just as efficient. We’ll have you practically vibrating out of that little dad outfit of yours in no time.”

And that had been all it’d taken. Six shots of espresso and a criminal amount of vanilla syrup over ice with milk. You’d expected to see his face plastered on the morning news for a caffeine overdose. Instead, he became a regular, always in right before closing. Sometimes he’d stay and chat with you until the shop was closed up for the evening and then he’d insist on walking you to your car. 

Which became you two sitting in your car and talking for hours. 

Which, one particularly cold evening, became you two making out in your car. (You’d finally had to be the one to initiate - Adrian couldn’t pick up on a goddamn signal if his life depended on it.)

Adrian decided you were boyfriend and girlfriend after that, always said with a beam of pride and like it was one big mashed up word: “boyfriendgirlfriend”. As if he was afraid if he didn’t say it fast enough that would be the exact amount of time you’d need to break up with him. You weren’t sure how much say you’d actually had in the matter of becoming boyfriendgirlfriend, but it was weirdly nice, actually. After the last several years of fuckboys and ghosting and “not putting labels on things”. You’d had a gnarly past with dating - you’d probably be a serious contender for Guinness World Record for Most Times Someone Had Been Cheated On. And Adrian knew that. And Adrian Chase was built different. 

Until he wasn’t. 

At first, that was a good thing. 

Sure, he was obsessed with you in a way that was sometimes vaguely disconcerting, but he loved you. Hard. You weren’t sure he knew any other way. He loved his friends hard, too. They were basically all a package deal. You never quite understood how they all became friends? They were like a random grab bag of people flung together by circumstances that were entirely unclear to you, no matter how many times one of them gave you a half-assed explanation.

And really, the problem with Adrian Chase had been a slow build. The issue had always been there, it just became more and more prominent over the year you were together until there was simply no ignoring it. 

He had been hiding something from you. 

You’d never confirmed he was cheating, not like you had with all the others. There was no smoking gun: no incriminating texts accidentally sent to you, no “hey girlie” DM from some stranger, no friend who’d seen him at the club making out with someone else. There was just...something. Something not right.

He’d go radio silent for long stretches of time, which was uncharacteristic of a man who often sent you over 100 texts a day. He’d be evasive about what he was up to when he wasn’t with you or at work. Once, you’d gone to Fennel Fields to drop off his jacket that he’d left at your apartment when he left “for work” only to find he wasn’t scheduled at the middling Italian restaurant at all.

The final straw had been when you’d woken up in the middle of the night to find his side of your bed empty. He didn’t come back for three days. 

Then he’d shown up at your door in the middle of the night, soaking wet from the rain, his eyes brimming with tears, a set of scratches down his cheek. He looked like some cat that had come skulking back to its owner after discovering the alleycat life wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

And you’d hated that his pained expression made you feel anything at all. That your heart squeezed tight when you looked at him. That his choked, desperate pleas had been almost convincing. But you’d learned your lesson the hard way in the past and you weren’t willing to repeat your mistakes. The risk of Adrian breaking your heart all over again was insurmountable.

Worse still was the fact that the anger never came - only the sorrow and the loneliness. You’d stayed awake for nights after, wondering if you’d made the wrong decision. Because Adrian wasn’t like the others…right? He’d adored you. Worshipped you, even. The way he looked at you like you hung the moon and stars…

Either way, he wasn’t being honest with you. You had to hold tight to that certainty.

Adrian Chase: i’m so sorry please forgive me Adrian Chase: i can’t explain but I promise i’d never hurt you

So you’d spent an entire weekend drinking Three Buck Chuck (you didn’t give a flying fuck if inflation made it $4.49, it was still $3 in your heart) and repeatedly washing every fabric in your apartment until none of it smelled even remotely like Adrian Chase. You’d stood numbly over the washing machine, bottle in hand, and willed yourself not to cry.

If only it were so easy to wash your brain clean.

Unknown Number (Possibly: Adrian Chase): you were right to break up with me Unknown Number (Possibly: Adrian Chase): i won’t bother you again

But time heals all wounds, right? And time was certainly making a valiant effort at it. 

Your best friend had made you re-download Hinge, your coworkers at the coffee shop had all consulted on your profile, and you were officially back on the market after much protest and turmoil. Of course, dating would require your heart to be “in it”, which it certainly was not. But some casual dating to take your mind off of things surely couldn’t go amiss.

That was, of course, until Vigilante showed up.

The first time seemed like pure coincidence. 

It just so happened that Vigilante was in a foot chase with some low level criminal or another and ended up knocking over the outdoor dining table you had been sitting at with your first Hinge date. That could happen to anyone! Especially in godforsaken Evergreen.

In the end, it was actually kind of fortuitous that Vigilante had shattered a perfectly good table in your lap. Your date had turned out to be some kind of red pill loser who listened to Andrew Tate like it was mindful meditation. He had just been going on about “low value females” when glass and ceramic and wood exploded and spared you from another second of any of that bullshit. You were…weirdly grateful to Vigilante?

He stood up from the table, dusted himself off and held out the purse to a woman standing breathless on the sidewalk a few feet away. He kicked the purse thief in the ribs for good measure, waved at you and started to take off.

“Wait!”

You weren’t sure why you said it. You stooped to collect the hunting knife that’d fallen off his…utility belt?...and offered it to him. He came back and reached for the knife, but for some reason your fingers had been unable to let go. At the time you’d chalked it up to some kind of panic response - your brain synapses simply weren’t firing correctly. Shock. Or something. It was only later that the real reason became startlingly clear. 

You’d been struck by the odd desire to keep him close. 

“Uh…thanks, citizen?” he said with a clumsy attempt to disguise his voice. You released the knife into his grasp unwillingly.

“Why do you sound like that?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Like what? I don’t sound like anything. I just sound like me. Vigilante.”

“No,” you replied, shaking your head. “Why are you doing a weird voice? You sound like Yoda swallowed Kermit the Frog.”

“That’s…no I don’t!”

You paused for a long moment, trying to place the vaguely familiar insistence in his tone. “We’ve met before.”

“N-no we haven’t,” he said lowly, a tremble in his voice. “Because I - I would definitely remember meeting you.”

It was strange, how you felt a little dejected that he didn’t remember that night. In his defense, it had been over a year. Probably a little after you and Adrian had originally started to become friends, actually. 

You’d been walking home one night and he’d appeared out of nowhere - handed you the earbud you hadn’t realized had fallen out of your pocket about two blocks prior and then just…stayed. Walked you home in a companionable quiet (which you remembered thinking was weird, because all the reports you’d heard and the late night Reddit posts you’d read about him mentioned how chatty he was) and disappeared the moment you were safely in your apartment with the deadbolt slid into place.

At the time you’d thought: he probably did that sort of thing all the time, right?

Of course, now you knew better.

That first date had ended with your date looking back and forth between you and Vigilante, before calling you a “freak bitch” and leaving you splattered in salad dressing with a check to cover.

What, in all likelihood would have technically been the second time Vigilante crashed your date, you’d gotten ghosted instead.

So maybe you decided to have a drink or two while you waited for what had clearly become a total, radio-silent abandonment. And maybe you’d not eaten anything beforehand because it was supposed to be a dinner date. And you’d fucking driven yourself there but your ass would be walking home. 

It was probably for the best - you were pretty sure you’d only matched with the ghoster because he had glasses that reminded you of Adrian. 

Of course Vigilante was standing in the parking lot when you tripped out the front door. You walked straight past him and straight past your car and you didn’t even bother to look to see if he was following. Somehow, you knew he was. 

He fell into step beside you silently, somehow feeling not like a threat, but a gentle comfort. A wordless offer of companionship.

“I imagine you’re not on any dating apps, Vigilante, so you don’t get it, but it’s fucking bleak out here,” you complained. “There are no good men left on this Earth. I finally had one who was good and he still managed to let me down in the end.”

“How?” came the gruff, muffled, accented reply. You stumbled on the uneven sidewalk and your hand flew to his bicep just as his hands wrapped around your waist. You didn’t pull back, you just stared up at him, hoping maybe your drunk self would see something your sober self couldn’t.

“It’s…hard to explain,” you replied, scrunching your brow as you studied his featureless face, head tilted back slightly to look up at him.

“Try me,” he said, his voice painfully soft. For not the first time you wondered what the man under the mask was really like. You reluctantly released your hold on his arm, and, in turn, his fingers drifted away from your waist. You started walking again, weighing whether there was any harm in unburdening your heart to Vigilante.

“Adrian was the first guy I dated who really and truly made me feel loved? Like I never doubted that he adored me. And I think because of that I was willing to overlook some things for a long time. And then suddenly one day I realized he’d disappear a lot, or be vague about where he was or sometimes he was straight up lying to me. And it didn’t matter how much I thought he loved me because his actions proved that maybe I shouldn’t have been so certain,” you explained, really focusing on your words, wondering in the back of your brain if you sounded like a drunk idiot. 

When he didn’t say anything, you continued, “I’ve dated more than my fair share of guys who cheated or fucked around and even though I felt so certain Adrian wasn’t like that, there was still this doubt in the back of my mind that overweighed everything else. Maybe he wasn’t cheating but I’d given people the benefit of the doubt in the past and always been sorry in the end. Cheating or not - which, I’ll be honest, I find really hard to believe he was cheating because of the way he’d…um, actually you don’t need to hear about that! Uh, cheating or not, he was keeping something from me.”

Vigilante’s decisive lack of response kept your drunk mouth running. “I think the worst part is I maybe miss him? Or, not maybe, I know I miss him. I think about him all the time even when I try not to. I even miss his quirks – of which he had many, let me tell you! But I guess that’s what happens when you love someone that much. And now I’m worried maybe that was the best it’ll ever get for me and it’s gone and I fucked everything up forever.”

You could feel his gaze on you but you didn’t indulge it. You were too busy thinking about the thing you knew you shouldn’t say, the most painful, stupid, ugly part of it all. “The worst part is that it makes me feel like there’s something wrong with me? That there’s something inherently unlovable about me baked into my DNA or something. Why else would all these guys cheat on me, or lie to me, or whatever? Like there must be something fundamentally wrong with me. I’m the common denominator.”

You felt his gloved hand scrape at your elbow, fingers pressing into the skin firmly. 

“I didn’t know you felt that way,” came his quiet reply finally, his voice strangely ragged. You squinted up at him. 

“Yeah, well, why would you?” you asked, genuinely confused.

“I…wouldn’t,” he replied slowly, before nodding emphatically.

“Right…”

“Right.”

You weren’t totally sure if he was being confusing or you were just drunk? Maybe both?

You turned and found yourself at your apartment door. You blinked for a moment - you’d been so preoccupied you didn’t even remember marching up the stairs. Wait, did it mean that he did remember walking you home all those months ago? Or you’d just led him right straight there. Again. A total psycho knew where you lived.

“Good night,” he said suddenly in that stupid put-on voice. Your heart leapt into your throat anyway. Were you that desperate? 

“Good night, Kermit Yoda,” you taunted, flashing him a smile as you closed the door and you definitely didn’t wobble on your feet. You made an auditory show of dramatically flipping the deadbolt and sliding the chain lock into place. 

“Fuck.” You heard him whisper from the other side of the door in a voice that sounded much more real than the one you’d come to know. There was a small thump and you wondered if you looked through the peephole you’d see his forehead resting against the door. 

You decided it was better not to know.

You leaned with your back against the door and pulled out your phone. Against your better judgment, you scrolled through your old texts until you found the Unknown Number (Possibly: Adrian Chase) thread that you’d been so good about not looking at. Mostly. You hadn’t had the heart to block him, but you’d deleted his number to remove the temptation. And true to his word he hadn’t bothered you again.

You dragged your thumb along the edge of the screen as you debated. Maybe there would be no harm in just…checking in on him? You were still somehow unaccustomed to the total lack of him in your life after a year that was so full of him. You’d find yourself missing him in tiny ways over and over again, even if you were loathe to admit it. There was a stupid, Adrian Chase sized hole in your heart. 

Your other hand drifted into the waistband of your jeans. What if you opened the door and invited Vigilante inside to fill something else of yours? Maybe you could bite into one of those biceps of his and convince him to let you call him Adrian.

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. What the fuck was wrong with you? You pulled your hand from your pants, closed your messages and opened Hinge instead. 

The second time (ghosting date notwithstanding) was perhaps the strangest of all.

It was quick drinks at a bar downtown before he suggested you two hit the club. You could tell what he was after the moment you’d laid eyes on him, but you didn’t mind. You’d been meaning to fuck Adrian Chase right out of your system (and apparently Vigilante, too) and your date was easy on the eyes, if a little smarmy. You could deal with that if it meant getting railed so hard you forgot your own name. Though, if you were judging by the rhythm of his hips as he grinded against you, you might be out of luck on that front.

“Club’s a front for drug smuggling!” a familiar voice called as it passed you, so casual your brain didn’t process it until a moment later. You barely had time to react before Vigilante was pulling a gun and executing the club owner right in front of everyone. Your mouth dropped open and for a second you swore he was turning back to look at you, like he was looking for your approval.

Then, the club burst into understandable chaos. People went running for the door, shouts filling the room in lieu of music. Someone knocked straight into you and you hit the deck hard. You managed to get yourself onto your knees (the drink-slick floor was not agreeing with your choice of shoewear) when your date’s hand appeared in front of you. You grasped onto it, grateful for your only lifeline, and opened your mouth to thank him when you realized rather suddenly that the hand was gloved and attached to the rest of fucking Vigilante.

“Are you okay?” he asked, sounding strangely breathless.

You yanked your hand out of his and scowled at him. “That was really fucked up.”

“I thought you said drugs weren’t your scene,” he snipped back. Was that some sort of accusation? It felt loaded with a meaning you couldn’t quite parse. The club music was still blasting and you’d just watched Vigilante kill a man in front of your very eyes. Your brain was…not thinking clearly. 

Still, it reminded you of something distant. Or someone.

“What?”

“Nothing!” he exclaimed. Then he looked over his shoulder and you both processed that the dead club owner’s security seemed to be getting themselves together, hands reaching into jackets for what you could only imagine were concealed weapons. He spun you around and pushed you towards the door. 

“Oh! I ordered you an Uber: silver Honda Civic, license plate JG8566, Jamil has a 4.9 star rating. Get home safe!” he chattered at you before pushing you out the front door and onto the sidewalk. The heavy metal door slammed shut behind you. 

The driver of a small Honda Civic waved at you from across the street. He poked his head out the window. “Uber for Vigilante?”

You looked around furtively to see if anyone had heard him and then with a hearty sigh you stepped off the curb.

The third time was the time that really pushed you over the edge.

Your new date had taken you to one of those trendy places-of-the-week that filled a niche so specific you weren’t sure how they sustained a business on “boutique rice pudding”. As it turned out, they didn’t. In fact, it turned out that Rice to Riches was a money laundering scheme. 

A money laundering scheme that Evergreen’s own Vigilante had taken upon himself to break up right in the middle of your date. He’d breezed right in the front door, waving at you as he passed. For a moment you presumed you were actively hallucinating. But the sound of a fight in the kitchen had you realizing otherwise. You listened to the sound of fists hitting flesh over and over and by the time your brain was able to properly have the feeling that you should definitely leave, Vigilante was standing at your table.

“Hey!” He was still doing the stupid voice, apparently. 

“Hi?”

“So, just a heads up this place was a money laundering front.”

“Okaaaay,” you drawled, uncertain of how you were supposed to respond to that info. “You know, a heads up usually comes before you murder a bunch of people.”

“Oh, I didn’t murder anyone. They’re just uhhhhh out cold. Tied up,” he replied in a way that was utterly unconvincing. 

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered. You turned to your date to say something but he was white as a sheet, his fingers still gripping his spoon while his mouth hung open, slack jawed. 

“Are you on a date?” he asked flippantly, examining the fingers of his gloves as if he were casually looking at his nails. 

“Yes?”

“You sure go on a lot of dates.”

Wait a minute, did Vigilante think you were a slut?

“Three dates is not a lot of dates. And, not that it’s any of your business but…I’m trying to get back out there after a really shitty break up. Is that a fucking crime?”

His sure-fire posture shifted slightly and he crossed his arms over his chest. Your gaze caught on his biceps and suddenly your fingers itched with the memory of them. God damnit. “Maybe it should be.”

Your brow furrowed. Was he fucking pouting? You were indignant, and feeling a little reckless. “Well, then, Vigilante, go on - put that dumbass sword on your back to good use and kill me.” 

“Uh…do you two know each other?” your date asked. You blinked at him dumbly - you’d forgotten he was there. 

“No!” you and Vigilante snapped at the same time. You stared hard at him, trying to make out anything beyond that stupid red visor of his. 

“Look, you seem nice but this has been deeply weird, sooo I’m gonna go,” your date said, but not before taking his rice pudding with him. You couldn’t blame him - for a money laundering scheme the pudding was really good.

You whipped back towards Vigilante as the bell sounded over the front door and the only person with a lick of common sense in the scenario fled the scene.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you demanded. You clarified before he could shrug it off, “Why are you so hell bent on ruining all my dates?”

He laughed, an awkward, strained sound that devolved into a cough as he clearly tried to disguise the sound. “Um, selfish much?”

“Excuse me?”

“You really think the world revolves around you so much that I’m specifically trying to interrupt your little dates or whatever?” he scoffed, apparently intent on doubling down on his unusual attempt at indifference. “I’m a little busy fighting crime to worry about your inept dating life, dude.”

You narrowed your gaze at him, almost positive he was lying. But the alternative did seem insane. He sighed. “What possible reason could I have for wanting to keep you from dating?”

“I don’t…I don’t know,” you admitted. What else were you meant to say? There was no proof, not really. But you didn’t believe in coincidences.

“Oh, so he’s like…in love with you?” your friend said when you’d finally finished recounting the strangest weeks of your life.

Coffee threatened to spill out of your nose as you choked, “What?”

One of your regulars piped up from their usual table by the counter. “Oh, yeah, no I agree. It sounds like he’s totally in love with you.”

“On what planet is he – oh my god, there’s no way, guys!” you argued, even if the sinking feeling in your stomach said otherwise. Was it possible? And if it was – why? Why you?

You waved them both off. “He doesn’t even know me.”

Even if you were unconvinced of some kind of undying love you were convinced that it was all on purpose. Fate had often been unkind to you in the past, but it was a level of sadism that even you could not believe existed naturally in the universe. 

And all of it – the failed dates, the weird, strangely intimate encounters, the skin-crawling feeling of being followed, the gnawing feeling of familiarity – had led you to a totally logical, reasonable plan: set a trap for Vigilante. 

So maybe you’d spent maybe a little too much time planning it. Thoroughly vetting the restaurant, the people who ran it, pouring through social media accounts and a background check on your date - certifying that there was no off-hand excuse for Vigilante to crash your date.

No crimes, no drug fronts, no nefarious owners. Just an above-the-board night out with a nice guy. It was your own little challenge to him, a desperate bid to prove your theory right. If he crashed this date you would know for sure that this wasn’t just some weird cosmic intervention and that he was doing it on purpose. 

“Are you okay?” your date asked. Alex? Andrew? Adrian? (NO, definitely not.) Fuck. What was his name again? “You seem a little…distracted.”

You dragged your gaze back to him and put on a carefully practiced smile. “I’m so sorry. I am distracted, you’re right. And that’s not fair to you.”

“Anything I can help with?” he offered with a lift of his brows and a small tilt of his head. He took a sip of his drink, waiting for you to fill in the blanks for him. Adam! Adam seemed…nice. And you were…toootally blowing him off. You sighed, defeated, and smiled apologetically. 

“It’s going to sound crazy,” you started, raking your hands over your face.

Adam smiled. “Try me.”

You shifted slightly in your seat. “Okay, so you know Vigilante?”

“Vaguely? The costumed maniac who works with Peacemaker and is somehow not in jail?”

You chuckled. “That’s the one. Well, uh, I think he might be – ” In love with me? But you figured that was not the right thing to say on a first date. Was the alternative really much better? “Stalking me?”

Adam choked on his sip of wine. “What?”

“Or it’s total, weird karmic coincidence that he just keeps showing up where I am!” you offered. Adam’s head tilted slightly to the side, bewilderment written across his handsome features. 

“How many times has this happened exactly?”

“Four. Give or take. Not counting the time he walked me home like a year ago.”

“Sorry, Vigilante walked you home?” he asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, I know how it sounds.”

Adam’s eyes studied you for a moment before he turned and flagged your waiter down. Damn it, you thought, he doesn’t even need to be here to ruin dates for me. Maybe you’d have to store the Vigilante card in your pocket for some bad date down the line. 

But instead, Adam leaned back in his chair and smiled at the waiter. “I think we’re going to need another glass of wine. And what’s the best dessert you’ve got?”

When the waiter disappeared to fetch both things he leaned his elbows on the table. “Okay, start from the beginning.”

Outside the restaurant you two did the awkward dance between lingering and saying good night once and for all. With both your rides ordered the two of you stood waiting, close together. (It was cold! Who could blame a girl?) Adam reached up and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Listen, I’m really hoping I don’t get a visit from Vigilante later for this, but, uh, can I kiss you?” Adam asked. His sandy hair was given an orange halo by the streetlight above you both. He really was handsome in a sort of everyman kind of way. Considerate, kind, easy to look at and not Vigilante – you nodded. His lips pressed against yours gently and something that felt almost like guilt twisted in the base of your stomach. 

When his car rolled up first he offered to stay with you but you’d waved him off. “Can’t lose you to Vigilante, now can I?”

He pressed a kiss to your cheek and made you promise to text when you got home safe. The second his car disappeared around the block your driver cancelled on you. You’d already waited an eternity and getting a rideshare in downtown Evergreen on a Friday night was a nightmare scenario. Besides, the walk would be good for you. There was plenty to think about on the way home. Like…

Where the fuck was Vigilante?

Maybe you were back to the drawing board entirely. You’d been so convinced he was doing it on purpose, but maybe you’d been wrong? Maybe it really was just all coincidence? What a weird, specific curse to have upon you. 

And then you heard the footsteps behind you.

The feeling of being followed was familiar now, unfortunately expected, but when you whipped around the very clear glint of a knife pointed at you, well…that was new.

“Oh!” you managed to squeak out. It wasn’t Vigilante at all. Instead, you were face to face with some guy who was very clearly trying to mug you. 

“Jesus Christ,” you sighed.

“Give me your purse, bitch!” 

You raked a hand over your face. “Please don’t do this. I’ve been having a really shitty few months and I’m - ”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“Listen, asshole, I’m just trying to warn you. Vigilante has been stalking me so you probably don’t want to fuck with me.”

You didn’t think you’d get to play the card so soon! A strange delight unfurled in your gut. Maybe invoking his name would somehow finally make him appear. Your life in danger would be his very own Bat Signal. 

The man faltered slightly before tightening his grip on his knife. “Why would Vigilante be stalking you?”

“You know, man with knife, that’s a really good question,” you said, nodding thoughtfully. The strange sense of calm running through you really should have been more alarming. You felt yourself take a step towards him and his expression shifted into pure confusion. Maybe that was good. Maybe you could actually handle this yourself. Maybe this was like when people gave advice to out-freak your would-be attacker. Maybe –

A single gunshot silenced the rest of that train of thought. Hot blood splattered against your clothes, your cheek, in your slightly open mouth.

“Oh my god,” you managed, frozen for just a moment before bending to spit onto the sidewalk. You lifted the hem of your sweater to your mouth to scrape the taste of blood out of your mouth while you tried desperately not to gag.

“Nice! I’ve been looking everywhere for this guy!” Vigilante cheered, a slight hop in his step as he crossed the street to where you stood.

“Are you okay?” he asked, giving your shoulder a slight nudge with his own. You at least had the good sense to recoil from his touch. His hands shot up to shoulder height, palms towards you in a show of reassurance.

“Sorry! I was running a little late. Did I miss your date?”

“Yeah, you did,” you replied, realizing a moment too late that you sounded a little disappointed. Seriously, what the fuck was wrong with you? “I even got a good night kiss. Which, before you say anything, is not a crime.”

Tension visibly rippled through Vigilante’s muscles. “Was he…was he good to you?”

“He was very nice.”

“That’s it? Just ‘very nice’? Sounds kind of lame to me!”

“Well, he’s not you.”

“Not me good, or not me…bad?” he asked quietly. 

You faltered a moment, genuinely unsure. Sure, the stupid, depraved thought had been knocking around in your head for a little while now. That while Vigilante was actively ruining your dating life, at least he was somewhat consistent. At least he showed up for you. And maybe there was something kind of hot about the mask now that you thought about it.

God damnit, you really needed to get away from him before you did something stupid. So, you continued walking towards your apartment, thinking maybe he’d have to stay behind to deal with the body. But instead he just followed along with you like some hapless dog.

“For one thing, he didn’t just murder someone in front of me again,” you said instead of really answering the question.

He put his hands on his hips. “That guy was going to hurt you. You’re telling me you would have preferred I let him stab you in the face over a purse? That would be a total waste of a really good face.”

“No! I’m not saying that, I’m saying…fuck I don’t know, Vij,” you sighed. He froze, a particular tension to his posture. But your brain was busy playing catch up with the fact that he’d said you had a…good face? 

“Say that again,” he murmured. Something was so, so familiar about the cadence, the desperation. An impossible thought prickled at the back of your mind and you batted it away.

“Say what again?” you asked.

“Call me Vij. I like it when you say it.”

A shudder rolled down your spine, involuntary and unwelcome. You struggled against the feeling settling in your gut. “Not until you admit that you’ve been trying to ruin my dating life.”

“Why would I admit that?” he scoffed. “Or, um, I mean, uhhh…I told you before, I think that’s a really self-centered way of looking at the world. To assume that just because I happen to show up at all your dates and they happen to be interrupted or end badly while I’m around doesn’t mean that I’m doing it on purpose! And actually, as a feminist, I find that kind of assumption offensive.”

“Oh really?” 

“Yes, really! I think all women should be allowed to date whoever they want!”

“All women?” you asked.

“Mhmm!”

“Even me?” you continued to press.

His shoulders shifted slightly. “Yup!”

“And so I should be able to fuck whoever I want as much as I want?”

His entire body went stiff as he seemingly tried to force himself to nod.

“For sure. Yes! Definitely! Go off, diva! Have sooooo much sex. Like maybe even have too much!” he rambled. You just stared at him with wide eyes. Then he laughed sharply, and the familiarity of it ran through your whole body. There was no way… “I mean, can one even have too much sex? Probably not!”

You tilted your head slightly. “Are you okay?”

“Can I admit something?” he asked, the question bursting out of him like he’d been biting his tongue, his voice sounding strained. He waited for your sharp nod before he continued, “I’ve been trying to ruin your dating life.”

You faltered. “What?”

“Yeah, ha, you totally caught me!” He scratched at the back of his neck and again that sense of familiarity ran through you like ice in your veins.

“You know, my friends think it’s because you’re totally in love with me.”

His head tilted slightly and you would have given anything to see the expression on his actual face. “Oh! Well, probably because I am.”

For a moment you could practically smell the short-circuiting happening in your brain. “You…huh?” 

He shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other as you both stood at the bottom of your apartment complex stairs. “Sorry, I thought it was obvious?”

“Why else are you doing all this?”

“Is love not enough these days?” he joked breathlessly. 

Something like panic started to crawl down your spine. You had, of course, considered the possibility, but faced with the simple truth of it you didn’t know what to do or say. So you did the only thing you could think of in the moment - you turned wordlessly and walked up the steps towards your apartment. You fished your keys out of your bag, fingers brushing over the lock before you turned back around to look at him one more time. 

It was a mistake. 

You couldn’t believe it. You were about to do something so, so fucking stupid. But the theory brewing in the back of your mind needed to be accounted for. 

“Aren’t you going to kiss me goodnight?” 

No sooner had you asked then Vigilante ducked his head down and pressed his mouth to yours, fabric scraping at your chin. You made a noise of surprise, muffled against his mask, as he pushed you back against your front door. All you could taste was polyester and sweat and something metallic. His tongue tried to lick desperately into your mouth but was constrained behind the fabric, now wet and sticking to your skin and his. It was entirely unsatisfying, frustrating even, but still you couldn’t deny the warmth spreading in your stomach. 

So you slid your fingers up his suit until you were prying at fabric, pushing it up until his hands grabbed your wrists firmly and made you stop. He pinned your arms down at your sides but still you leaned back to examine the small stretch of canvas he’d allowed you, taking in the pale expanse of his neck, the very bottom of his face. Even in the dim light something about it was familiar.

You leaned forward and peppered kisses to his exposed skin until you reached his uncovered mouth and waited. He surged forward, kissing you for real this time - nothing but wet lips and eager tongues and hot breath and his hands fisted into the fabric of your shirt as he yanked you against him and – oh. 

You pulled back.

“What the fuck?” you panted. If you’d felt insane moments before, you now felt the Earth had completely flipped on its axis the moment your lips had touched his. 

Because you knew that mouth. 

“Adrian?” 

“Um…who?” he attempted. 

“Take the mask off right now,” you ordered, pulling away from his grasp. 

“I can’t, I, uh, well, I’d have to kill you! If you saw my face! Because, you know - secret identity,” he scrambled. Oh my god. How had you not realized it sooner? You really were a fucking idiot.

“You won’t kill me,” you said firmly, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“You don’t know that!”

“I do. And besides, I already know what your face looks like, Adrian Chase,” you snapped.

He looked frantically over his shoulder. “Can we please talk about this inside?” 

“Why the fuck would I let Vigilante inside my apartment?” you asked. 

“C’mon, please don’t be like that,” he whined. 

“Like what? Seriously, tell me why I should let a stranger who is a murderous superhero wannabe into my home,” you said, putting your hands on your hips. “I’ll wait.”

“I don’t wanna be pedantic but you did just let Vigilante put his tongue in your mouth, so, I’m not really sure what the difference is?”

You stood your ground. You just wanted to hear him admit it. Because you knew him and you knew he’d cave.

“Fine! Fuck! It’s me, Adrian!” he exclaimed in a rather loud whisper. You rolled your eyes at him and he reached up to take the mask the rest of the way off.

“Jesus Christ, don’t! Don’t do that out here, you idiot!” you gasped and reached up to stop him. You cursed under your breath as you unlocked your door and then dragged him inside, your fingers hooked under the chest plate of his suit. With the door closed behind him and the lock safely in place, Adrian reached up and pulled the mask off with a gasp.

He stared at you with those wide, bright green eyes of his and smiled from ear to ear. “See, you do care about me still!”

You shifted uncomfortably and avoided his gaze directly. You knew exactly what it was like to fall into those eyes and you weren’t totally convinced you’d be able to climb your way back out. 

“No, I care about my nosy neighbors seeing me with a wanted criminal.”

“Sure,” he agreed, clearly sarcastic. He fished his glasses out his pocket and slid them onto his face. For some reason, seeing your Adrian - glasses and all - in the Vigilante suit was more befuddling than it was before. Worse still, it was also strangely arousing.

And then it hit you like running headfirst into a brick wall.

This is what he’d been hiding the whole time. 

“Why?” you asked, somehow the only word you could seem to muster.

“You’re gonna have to be a little more specific…”

“Why the fuck were you lying to me about this, Adrian?”

“I mean, not to be technical but I was lying to you about other stuff. You never asked me if I was Vigilante!”

You rolled your eyes and groaned. “Well, pardon me for not thinking to ask if my boyfriend is the psychopath running around Evergreen killing people for minor infractions! Adrian, you’re weird but you’re like…sweet weird. You don’t exactly give off psycho-killer vibes.”

“Qu’est-ce que c’est?”

You punched him straight in the arm. “Please be serious right now!”

“Sorry! I couldn’t help it! That song is so funny. Because like, what is this, you know? They’re really asking the right questions.”

“I cannot believe I spent a year dating you,” you sighed.

“Hey!”

“You don’t get to ‘hey’ me! You’ve been living a double life for…wait, was it the whole time we were together?”

Adrian chewed at his lower lip. “Maybe.”

“Adrian!”

“Yeah, okay, the whole time we were together and also like…for a while now.”

Your mind was reeling, trying to deal with the puzzle pieces and details and – oh yeah, the gnawing of your own presumed morality at the back of your brain. The man you loved was a killer. And maybe you loved the killer, too.

“When you disappeared for three days were you…doing Vigilante shit?”

“Oh, ha! Yeah, I was on a super serious top secret mission,” Adrian laughed. Then he took in your expression and he, too, sombered. “I wanted to tell you then. I wanted to explain. That night on your doorstep I planned to…um, but when I came back…when you told me we were breaking up, that you couldn’t trust me, I…I think it broke something in my brain. But I also realized you were right to break up with me. That actually you’re safer when you’re not dating me. I couldn’t live with myself if someone were to somehow trace me back to you. But then I realized that I could protect you as Vigilante, even if I couldn’t protect you as Adrian.”

“I didn’t want to break up with you, you know that, right?” you asked quietly. Something like a glimmer of hope flashed in his bright green eyes. “But I had to protect my heart.”

“What if…do you think there’s a chance you could let me protect that, too?” he asked, voice quiet and unsteady. “That’s what I’ve been trying to do.”

“Is that what you think you’ve been doing this whole time? Protecting me?” you asked, genuinely trying to understand the way his clearly warped brain worked.

“I know I don’t deserve it, but you do. You deserve the world. Because you’re not the common denominator in a sea of shitty men. You’re like a bright star that everyone is drawn to. And bright lights attract some losers, too and…I think I’m losing track of the metaphor but all I really mean to say is: you’re exceptional.”

Call it weakness, call it stupidity, call it what it was: a kindling breath on a flame you’d tried desperately to snuff out. You loved him.

It was unclear if it was you who leaned forward first or him but either way you found your head pressed against his chest, his arms sure and firm around you. 

“I have to ask — how did you know it was me?”

“I had my suspicions,” you laughed. Though clearly not enough. “But I knew for certain the second my lips touched yours.”

Adrian well and truly cackled. He lit up all over, exactly the same man you’d fallen in love with the first time you’d met him. Just with a little…more than you could have conceived of before. Maybe you weren’t ready to admit it to him quite yet, but a part of you clamored to get to properly know Vigilante, too. There was a whole new, strange, thrilling part of Adrian Chase for you to discover.

“I can’t believe you recognized my mouth, dude! That’s kind of insanely romantic if you think about it!”

“Yeah, I’m actively choosing not to think about it, thanks!” you retorted. Then, because for some reason you couldn’t help it, “I mean, I’m very familiar with that mouth’s work, it would be a crime if I didn’t recognize it.”

“Are you flirting with me right now?” Adrian asked, the question half a gasp, half a squeal of excitement.

“No! I don’t know! Maybe a little bit! Fuck! I can’t help it.” You scrubbed at your face with both hands like maybe you’d be able to wipe it all away. “It’s like…in me, you know?”

“What is?”

“Everything about you. I see your face and it’s like you’re hardwired in my skull and in my heart. I could have gone on one hundred dates or none and it wouldn’t have made a difference at all, because none of them were you!” you exclaimed, breathless. You knew Adrian well enough to know you were maybe being too flowery for his very literal brain to fully comprehend.

“Me Adrian or me Vigilante?” he asked, surprising you.

You forced yourself to meet his gaze and then gave a defeated shrug. “Both, I think.”

“Fuck, I think that’s the nicest and the coolest and the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” Adrian murmured. He pulled you tight against him by the hips. “Can I kiss you again? I think I need to or else I’ll die.”

You answered him by pressing your lips to his, his chin captured in your hand, fingers pressed firmly into the skin – just enough pressure, not too much or too little for dear, sweet, Adrian. You kissed him hungrily, which seemed to take him delightfully by surprise, if the noises he made were anything to judge by. His tongue scraped over your teeth, and you bit at his lower lip and pulled. His fingers pressed so hard into your hips you thought they might bruise and you also thought you didn’t give a fuck. Adrian’s mouth travelled from your lips to your jaw to your neck. He sucked at the skin just below your ear and you knew he was trying to mark you as his. That was the question, wasn’t it? Were you willing to be his again, knowing what you know? 

It was utterly incongruous: your perception of Adrian, the man you’d loved and practically lived with for an entire year versus Vigilante, a man you knew to be a totally cold-blooded, obsessive killer. Did it make a difference if it was in the name of justice? You had seen on the news when he’d been involved with saving the planet from those butterfly alien things with Peacemaker. How was he the kind of guy who could play D&D for hours, and talk incessantly about Pokemon, and kiss you so gently, and also the kind of guy who kicked criminal ass with no remorse and saved the planet from alien invasion?

“What are you thinking?” he asked, pulling back suddenly. He had that gentle, focused look in his eye that you knew all too well. 

“I think I should probably be scared of you,” you replied honestly. His tight hold on you loosened almost imperceptibly, but still you felt it. Of course you did.

“I would never hurt you,” he whispered. “Please believe me.”

“I do. And, I also think you’ve permanently fucked up the wiring in my brain,” you grumbled against his mouth.

“Does this mean we’re getting back together?” he asked, and you could practically feel the excitement of the idea thrumming through his body. 

“Maybe,” you offered. He deflated slightly. “If we’re going to try and figure this out then there’s no more secrets between us, okay?”

Adrian nodded. “Sick! I mean, now you basically know all my secrets. Except, I guess, about all the drugs and blood money in my basement.”

“The what now?”

He darted forward and peppered your forehead, your eyelids, your cheeks with kisses. Somewhere between them all he managed to say, “Thank you for giving me another chance. I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

“Hard to miss someone when you’re stalking them, Adrian,” you reminded him.

“But I miss you every time I blink,” Adrian breathed, wide-eyed and stupidly adorable and achingly earnest. Your fingers itched for every part of him but you refrained, hooking your fingers into the chest plate of his Vigilante armor. 

“I need to hear you say it – no more secrets. We are both totally honest with each other, for better or worse,” you demanded.

Adrian nodded, a wide grin on his lips. “I’ll never keep anything from you ever again. You can trust me, I promise. In fact, I promise on Peacemaker’s life! He’s the only thing I cherish in this life even remotely close to you, so you know I mean it. If I was gonna swear on the most important thing, well, that would be you, but I figured that’s a little counterproductive to the whole swearing on something thing.”

When you kissed again it wasn’t hungry any more. It was slow, it was deep, it was an acknowledgment that you had all the time in the world. Your fingers wove into his curls and pulled tightly, just the way you knew he liked. Because you knew him. He groaned his approval into your mouth and he wrapped around you, practically enveloping you. The next thing you knew his hands were under your ass and he was supporting you so you could wrap your legs around his waist. He carried you effortlessly towards your bedroom, pausing along the way to press your back to the wall and kiss you even deeper, his fingers needy and clumsy at the hem of your shirt. His fingers, still gloved, scraped across the skin of your stomach, reacquainting themselves with familiar territory. 

His lips didn’t leave yours the entire time, even as he carried you to your bed and laid you down like the most precious thing on the planet. He leaned over you, hands pressed into the mattress, you hooking your fingers into the straps on the front of his suit to try and pull him as close as humanly possible. Things blurred into a hot, slow, haze of Adrian. 

Suddenly, you drew back with a gasp, both desperate for air and with another gnawing question on your tongue.

“Wait wait! You didn’t kill any of those guys I went on dates with, right?”

“Only the first one,” he said with a kind of severity that sent a chill down your spine and had you anticipating the feeling of him between your thighs in equal measure. Then you realized, somewhat dreamily, that Adrian already was in between your thighs. So you squeezed your legs around him tighter – you weren’t letting him go again. Adrian Chase really had ruined you forever.

“And what crime did he commit?” you asked against his mouth, your arms snaking around his neck.

“Being an asshole to the person I love most in the world.”

Then he unhooked your legs so he could slide down your body until he was kneeling at the edge of your bed. His fingers made quick work of your pants and yours pressed into the mattress as he made himself at home between your thighs like no time had passed at all.

Adrian watched you sleep for some time, your limbs tangled with his, you asleep in one of the oversized shirts he’d left behind, the poster of Fargo printed across your chest. The evening had gone better than he could have ever planned. And he had done a lot of planning. 

Sure, he hadn’t anticipated your date kissing you, but it didn’t even bother him anymore. But he’d heard what that stupid guy had said to you while he was hidden out of sight. 

Can’t lose you to Vigilante, now can I?

Now the mugger had been a total coincidence but one that made him look so cool and tough. He’d saved you from death, not just a shitty date with some stupid guy! Extra points for Vigilante! He’d high five himself if he could.

Adrian moved slowly, making sure not to disturb you in the slightest. He got distracted for a long moment just watching you sleep peacefully, a ghost of a smile on your beautiful mouth.

When he slipped back into the bed he had the Vigilante mask on and your phone in his hand. He cuddled up behind you and then tucked his chin into the crook of your neck. He ensured the flash was off and then took a picture. He opened your texts and found Adam (Hinge) with ease.

He attached the photo and then, smiling from ear to ear, typed:

You lose.

breaking up is hard to do taglist: @sideblogmeanz @danversxwasabi @countvonklit @tlfg-adrianchase @bunch-of-bens @lovenerdywhitemen2 @morguegrl89

gen adrian taglist: @countvonklit @tlfg-adrianchase

That evening I was flying alone. Thank god for business class, aisle seats and their extra legroom, much appreciated after what all these months of touring had done to my knees. I glanced over at the young woman in the window seat next to me, trying not to make it obvious that I was staring at her. The flight from Mexico City to LA was 5 hours too long, at least it felt too long the day after wrapping up the final show of the tour’s Latin American leg. I was falling asleep with the low buzz of the plane’s engines as it reached the 30,000 feet of altitude.

And she was sitting there, bulky headphones clamped over her ears and her messy undone hair, blasting music so loud I could make out the beat tha was playing. Deftones. Very basic choice. I smirked to myself, wondering if she even realized that everyone around her could hear the music too. Or maybe she did, and just didn’t care as long as she drowned the plane engine sound away.

She was focusing on the seatback screen in front of her, her long index fingers tapping on the clunky tactile screen, playing Sudoku. Her brow furrowed in concentration, her thin, long yet straight lashes casting shadows on her cheeks as she tapped a number 6 on the top left corner of the middle quadrant. I couldn’t help but study her subtly. Her nose had a slight downturn at the tip and a hump in the middle of her nose bridge. Her forehead creased just a little when she got stuck on a puzzle, and her lips… full, parted slightly as she thought of the next number to tap, chapped and pale. Dry skin flaking around her face due to the airplane air. Her fuller cheeks had that telltale sunburn flush, red and raw and glowing under her skin. She looked young, maybe still in her twenties, she couldn’t be thirty yet. She was just effortless, not trying too hard. She had caught my eye earlier on the airport gate, no one meeting her at the gate, no frantic texts on her phone. Just her, now fully lost in her silly numbers game and her obnoxiously loud music.

I shifted in my aisle seat, feeling the need to stretch after sitting for a total of 58 minutes. I stood up, excusing myself out loud before heading to the cramped lavatory. The mirror in there was unforgiving under the horrifying fluorescent light. I stared at my own reflection… gray hairs creeping in more than I’d like, especially at the temples. I ran a hand over the top of my head, convinced there was a bald spot hiding somewhere, even though Ray had laughed it off last week after I brought it up during rehearsal. “You’re imagining things, dude” he’d replied. Easy for him to say with that luscious mane of his. At 48, the wrinkles around my eyes and forehead were starting to map out the years. And yeah, I wasn’t as thin as I used to be back when I was her age. Broader now, softer in places, specially around my stomach. I splashed water on my face, trying to wash away the fatigue. As I dried my hands, my eyes caught the gold wedding band on my finger. Fuck me.

When I returned, the flight attendants had served the meals in those small, flimsy airplane trays that always smelled and looked worse than they actually tasted. She had pulled off her headphones, and as I sat down, she turned to me with a polite smile. “They had chicken or vegetable pasta,” she said, a little hesitant, like she wasn’t sure if she should be talking to me or not. “I asked them to leave the veggie option for you if that’s okay? I mean, you can have my chicken if you prefer so. I know it’s a long enough flight, and I didn’t want to leave a stranger without dinner.”

I smiled. Would it be too pathetic if I found that simple gesture of kindness to be the sweetest thing ever? “Veggie option’s perfect, thanks.” I extended my hand. “I’m Gerard, by the way.”

“Yeah,” She shook it, her smile widened. “I know.”

That threw me for a second. Of course she did. We started eating, and she mentioned randomly that the charging port on her seat was not working. “So I might have to raw dog this flight” she said with a dramatic sigh. Then she rambled on about how she hadn’t charged her phone at the airport while waiting at the gate because she was counting on the plane to do so. She complained about how her phone battery was dying, how she hated being without her playlists. It was sweet, endearing, the way she just spilled it all out without a filter. I laughed.

We fell into small chat after that. I learnt that she was a model, back from solo holidaying in Mexico, exploring art markets, beaches, street food vendors, night clubs, just wandering in general. I asked why she was traveling alone, half-hoping to gauge if she was single, half-just genuine curiosity. She shot back with a snarky grin, “Okay you old man, women can travel alone nowadays, y’know?”

I tried laughing it off, but heat crept up my neck. “Fair enough. Didn’t mean it like that… I guess I was just trying to fish for whether you’re single or not.”

She met my eyes directly, that smile turning into a playful one. “And why would you care about that, Mr. Married Way?” Her gaze flicked to my ring, then back up. “I couldn’t help but notice the gold ring around one of those calloused, big, thick fingers of yours.”

I blushed harder, not sure if it was a compliment or a tease, but the way she said it made me feel sick. I shifted in my seat, but I couldn’t stop the flirty smile tugging at my lips. We kept talking, she asked me about the tour, I asked her about any shoots, and other random shit like bad airplane food. I was overthinking it all, my mind racing. Was this just too friendly? But then, as the cabin dimmed and most passengers around us dozed off or zoned out on their screens with shitty movies, she leaned in close. Her breath was warm against my ear, her mouth smelled not-so-amazing, but you can’t blame someone for their bodily smells when you're trapped on a plane. She whispered, “Show me what you can do with those fingers then, Gerard.”

My heart slammed in my chest. I couldn’t explain how we got there, maybe the isolation of the flight, the shared solitude but I couldn’t resist her. Her lap was draped with the airline’s dark blue blanket, hiding everything from view. I nodded “Only if you look out the window, sugar. Don’t look at me.”

She obeyed, turning her head toward the dark sky outside, I could see her small eyes closing and her mouth slightly opening through the window reflection, faintly against the view of the nightly clouds. My hand slipped under the blanket, slow and deliberate, savouring the dangerous anticipation. I started high, my fingertips brushing her stomach through her small tee, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath. I could feel some of it peeling off as her skin was healing from probably the worst sunburn she’s ever had. She shivered lightly, but kept her gaze fixed outward. I trailed lower, over the waistband of her trousers, sneaking past the fabric until I reached her underwear. The material was soft cotton, lacy I guess, and I hooked my fingers around it, pulling it aside just enough.

She was already warm, wet, and my god, oh so ready as my middle and index fingers glided along her folds, parting them gently at first. I circled her clit with the pad of my index finger, slow and teasing, feeling it swell under my touch. She bit her lower lip, hard enough that it turned white, her eyes fluttering closed despite my command. Her breaths became heavier, her chest rising and falling in shallow waves. I dipped lower, tracing the slick entrance, coating my fingers in her arousal juices before sliding back up to rub her clit in firmer circles. “That’s it, that’s a good girl” I murmured, barely audible over the plane engine’s loud hum. “Stay quiet for me.”

She nodded faintly, her body tensing as I increased the pressure, alternating between lazy strokes along her folds and pinpoint flicks on her clit. I could feel her getting wetter, I didn’t even know that could be possible. And her hips shifted ever so slightly under the blanket, seeking more than I could give her at that very second. My middle finger pressed inside her then, just the tip at first, she clenched around it immediately, a soft whimper escaping her lips that she quickly silenced. I pushed deeper, curling it to hit that spot inside, and her thighs shook. “Fuck, you’re tight, sweetheart” I whispered, my own arousal building as I watched her reactions. My free right hand grabbed my own blanket, as I threw it over my lap to try and conceal the very obvious erection. I couldn’t help but smile endearingly at the way her forehead creased slightly again, not from her small Sudoku puzzle game this time, but from the pleasure I was building between her legs… Her legs. What wouldn’t I give to see those fucking legs bare right now, throw them over my shoulders, bury my face in her cunt and sniff her aroma deeply. Her pink cheeks flushed deeper.

I added my index finger next, stretching her slowly, thrusting in and out with a steady rhythm. She was soaking now, the wet sounds muffled under the blanket, but I could feel every pulse, every clench. Her breathing hitched, as she gripped the armrest, her bony knuckles whitening. I leaned closer, my mouth near her ear. “You like that, don’t you? My fingers filling you up. Be a good girl and take it all. I know you wanted more.” She nodded, eyes squeezed shut, her dry lip still caught between her teeth as she mouthed a small ‘Thank you’.

I twisted my fingers, scissoring them gently to open her more, rubbing her clit with my thumb in sync. Her walls fluttered around me, tightening in waves that made my cock strain against my pants. Then, I slid in my ring finger, three in now, I knew she could take it but she just came undone almost immediately. Her pussy clenched hard, spasming around them as her orgasm hit, wet heat flooding my hand. She arched subtly, a silent gasp tearing from her throat, her whole body shuddering under the soft blanket. I kept moving through it, drawing it out, whispering, “Good little whore, coming for strangers on a plane. Just like that.” It seemed to last forever, her muscles gripping and releasing, her breaths coming in hot and uneven puffs, until finally, she relaxed, a satisfied smile curving her lips as her breathing slowed.

Now my fingers, damp and glistening from her own wetness, I lifted them to her mouth. “Taste yourself,” I said softly “You said it yourself. It’s a long flight. I don’t want you to go hungry, princess”. Her eyes darted around the cabin, making sure no one was watching, before she parted her lips and licked them clean. Her tongue swirled around each one. “That’s it. Such a good girl.” She started sucking them, bobbing her head slightly, taking them deeper one by one. When she got to my ring finger, she gently used her teeth to slide off my wedding band, letting it drop into her palm with a wink.

I swallowed hard. “I would love it if we can still see each other once we get to California,” I said.

She looked at me with those half-lidded eyes, still catching her breath. Her gaze drifted down, lingering on the blanket I’d thrown over my lap earlier, and I knew she could see the outline of my erection straining against my pants. It was impossible to hide at this point. How fucking embarrassing… I am pushing 50, and I am hard and throbbing, begging for a stranger’s attention after feeling her come undone around my fingers. She bit her lip as she shifted in her seat, her thighs probably still trembling under the blanket.

She reached for her phone on her cabin bag under the seat, unlocking it with a quick swipe. The screen lit up her face in the dark cabin, she squinted her eyes slightly at the sudden brightness and glanced at the battery icon. “Four percent left. Damn, that’s cutting it close...” She looked back at me, handing me the phone. “For you, use that percentage wisely.”

My pulse quickened, a stupid horny idea hitting me like a rush of adrenaline. I took the phone from her hand, our fingers brushing in a way that sent another jolt straight to my dick. “Excuse me,” I murmured, standing up carefully, trying not to draw attention as I made my way back to the lavatory. The cabin was mostly quiet now, passengers lost in sleep or their screens, but I felt so exposed and somehow observed, like everyone just knew about the pulsing bulge in my pants. I locked the door behind me, the tiny space feeling even more claustrophobic with the heat building inside my stomach.

I leaned against the sink, pulling down my pants and boxers just enough to free myself. My dick sprang out, hard and heavy, the tip already slick with pearling pre cum from everything that had happened. I wrapped my right hand around the base, giving it a slow stroke, feeling the familiar weight and girth as I started to pump. With my sweaty left hand, I held her phone steady, hitting record on the camera, the battery ticking down to 3% already. Shit. The screen showed me my own reflection on the screen, as I focused on my hand moving over my shaft.

God, she really was something else. As I stroked faster, my mind flooded with thoughts of her, her full, chapped lips parting around my fingers, tasting herself like I’d told her to do. So obedient. I imagined her on her knees in front of me, right here in this dirty cramped bathroom, her messy hair falling over her shoulders as she looked up with those young, innocent eyes. I just know she’d take me fully into her mouth. I would die to have her tongue swirling around the head, licking up my pre cum like it was the sweetest thing she’d ever tasted. “That’s it, sugar,” I’d groan, combing my fingers through her hair, guiding her deeper until she gagged a little, I could almost imagine the feeling of her throat tightening around me.

I squeezed harder with my right hand, twisting on the upstroke, my breath coming as I recorded every movement and the way my veins stood out, pulsing under my skin, the slick sound of my fist gliding over the length. Fuck, she was just so tight earlier. Her pussy. Just… her. Her. I pictured flipping her over in some hotel bed in Mexico, she’d be wearing a tiny bikini, her sunburned back, her even small soft ass inviting as I buried myself inside her from behind. I’d grab her hips, pulling her back onto me with each thrust, watching her back arch, her dainty hands fisting the sheets as I fuck her ass raw. “You like that, don’t you? Taking my old cock like a good little whore. I will fuck every single hole of yours, darling.” I’d whisper, just like I had on the plane. I just want to hear her voice moaning my name. That’s all I could ever need. She made me feel so alive and dirty. She made me feel sexy.

I would need to feel her scratching at my shoulders, leaving marks, drawing blood, her breath hot against my neck as she comes again and again, soaking me. I need to drown in her cum and wetness. And then, in the haze of it all, I’d pull out and come on her stomach, watching it glisten on her skin, marking her as mine, even if just for one night, or at least for that one moment. She could be all mine.

My strokes grew faster, erratic, my thumb rubbing over the sensitive head on each pass, smearing the pre cum down the length. The phone shook a little in my sweaty left hand, but I kept it steady, filming the way my soft stomach tensed, my hips bucking forward involuntarily. I was close now, the pressure building low in my gut.

Her snarky grin when she called me an old man, the way she’d sucked my fingers clean, her tongue warm and eager. “Fuck, yes” I muttered under my breath, imagining her whispering in my ear “Come for me, Gee. Show me how much you want me.” I’d come for her any time if she only asks.

It hit me hard then, the orgasm ripping through me as ropes of cum shot out, spilling over my fist and onto the toilet bowl. My body shuddered, hips jerking with each pulse, and I milked myself through it, drawing out every last drop until I was spent, breathing heavy, my cock softening in my hand. The video captured it all, the mess, the aftermath, my hand slick and glistening. I stopped the recording, the battery now at 1%, and quickly added my phone number to her contacts under “G” before locking the screen.

I washed my hands thoroughly, and flushed away the evidence, avoiding my reflection in the mirror entirely. I didn’t want to see the guilt creeping in, reminding me of my life back home. Not now.

When I slipped back into my seat, she looked up expectantly, those fucking doll eyes. I handed back her phone discreetly. “For your eyes only. My number’s in your contacts. Use it when we land in California. Please.”

She held out her palm, my wedding band glinting in the low light. “Here. You might need this back.”

The walk from your car to the coffee shop felt different. No 45-minute rule. No blackmail. No performance. Just you, walking to meet Gerard because you wanted to.

That thought alone made your stomach flip.

After everything, the basement, the bathroom, the car, his confession that he saw right through you, something had shifted. The games were over. The leash was gone. And somehow, that was more terrifying than any of it.

The brisk wind blew your hair, leaving you to clutch your coat a little tighter around your body. Leaves crunched below your feet as you made your way towards the coffee shop. Gerard asked you on your first "real" date, and for the first time, you felt butterflies in your stomach from both giddiness and nervous excitement. It was a small shop, one you had been to before with friends. Gerard was actually the one who picked it, and said he remembered you liked their chai lattes once in passing while you were hanging out with his brother.

The detail stuck with you. He listened.

You dug in your purse and pulled out your phone before checking for the time. 7:26 PM. You were early. When had you ever been early for anything? The realization made your chest tight.

You dropped your phone back in your purse, approaching the building. Through the windows, you could see a familiar figure sitting at a secluded table. You paused, staring at Gerard from a distance. Waiting. Upon first glance, you noticed his hair looked clean, washed, his clothes weren't wrinkled, and he was sitting upright instead of hunched over. A shaky breath left your lips and you walked inside, relishing in the warmth that encompassed you as soon as you came through the door.

Gerard's head raised as soon as the chime at the door rang, and he stood up from the table to greet you.

"Hey, I'm so glad you came."

You returned a tight-lipped smile, fingers twisting in your coat. "Yeah, thanks for inviting me out."

"You look nice," Gerard said, then immediately cringed. "Sorry, that's such a generic thing to say. I-"

"Gerard." You smiled despite yourself. "Just... talk to me. Like normal."

"Normal," he repeated, like testing out the word. "Okay. Normal."

An awkward beat passed. You both glanced around the coffee shop. The barista wiping down the counter, a student hunched over a laptop, an older couple sharing a pastry. Normal people on a normal Thursday night. Were you normal people now?

Gerard broke the silence. "You want a chai?" He pointed at the counter and you smiled, nodding your head.

"That sounds nice, thanks."

You made your way to the table he was sitting at and set your bag down on the bench, eyes flickering over to the sketchbook he left on the table. It was closed, and heat crept up your neck as you remembered: Gerard, sprawled on that stained couch, hand moving over himself, eyes locked on the drawing of you. You bit your lip and looked away from the sketchbook.

Gerard seemed different as he walked to the counter. Confident, but in a quiet way. Like he'd stopped apologizing for taking up space. When had that happened?

A soft smile crossed your lips as he returned with your drink. You muttered out a thanks before the both of you sat in silence again. This new dynamic was unfamiliar, leaving you speechless for once.

Your eyes drifted back to his sketchbook and you nodded towards it. "So, what have you been working on?"

Gerard's eyes lit up. He reached out and began flipping through the pages. "Oh, well actually I've been working a bit on a new comic project. It isn't much yet, mostly sketches of characters, but I have outlined some already."

You stared at the intricate drawings. "Why comics?" you asked, genuinely curious.

He grinned, clearly happy that you were showing interest in him. "Because you can tell a whole story in the space between panels. What you don't show is just as important as what you do."

You paused and thought about the space between the both of you. Everything unspoken, everything implied. "Yeah. I get that."

His genuine excitement and enthusiasm made your chest warm. "You know, you've never really talked like this before."

He paused for a moment, and a sad smile crossed his lips before he scratched the back of his neck. "You've never really asked before."

His honesty didn't hurt you. It was refreshing, and you came closer to the revelation that he was refreshing.

"I know you and Mikey just finished midterms, and you're only in your second year, but what are your plans? For after college, that is."

You sipped on your latte, contemplating his question. "Honestly? I have no idea." You traced the rim of your cup. "The thought of being stuck in a cubicle for the next forty years is terrifying. But I don't know what else to do. And my parents would lose their minds if I dropped out after saving for my education all these years."

"I tried that," Gerard said. "After graduation. The nine-to-five thing. It didn't stick." He smiled, self-aware. "I know living in my parents' basement isn't exactly winning at life, but I'd rather figure out what actually fits than force something that doesn't." He met your eyes. "You'll find what makes sense. I know you will."

His words were said with such conviction, you believed him. It felt refreshing to have someone really listen. And for the first time, you felt as though he really saw you as a real person, not just Mikey's hot friend.

"This is nice."

You stared down at your cup, smiling. "Yeah. It is." You fought against the internal panic of actually admitting out loud that you were enjoying your date with Mikey Way's older brother.

Surprisingly, you felt comfortable sitting with Gerard. You were no longer worried about being seen in public, not caring who saw you out with him. Gerard took a sip from his cup, accidentally getting foam on his upper lip, and you felt so comfortable that without thinking, you reached across the table to wipe it away. The physical contact made you both freeze, the casual intimacy of the gesture hitting you like a semi.

You pulled your hand back quickly, wiping it on a napkin. Your fingers still tingled where you'd touched his skin. You took a sip of your latte to have something to do with your hands.

Gerard cleared his throat, voice wavering. "Um, I know I was kind of... pathetic before. The blackmail thing, I mean. I'm sorry."

Your first instinct was to brush it off with a mean joke, but the look in his eyes was so sincere that you stopped yourself.

Gerard continued, "I just didn't know how else to make you stay."

Internally you screamed at yourself that you should deflect any and everything that made you uncomfortable in the slightest. Instead, you shifted in your seat, fingertips playing with the end of your sleeves. "Well, I'm here now. Without the blackmail."

He smiled, genuine, disbelieving. "Yeah. You are."

You couldn't help but ask yourself internally, when did I stop pretending?

"I was scared you'd never actually see me," he admitted quietly. "That I'd always just be Mikey's weird older brother. The joke."

Your chest tightened from regret and guilt. "You're not a joke."

"I am to most people."

"Not to me. Not anymore."

Your date continued, soft conversation and laughter reaffirming why you let your guard down around him, and once you were both finished with your drinks, Gerard walked you back to your car.

His heavier footsteps followed yours, and you both stood in comfortable silence before looking up at him through your lashes. Both you and Gerard leaned in at the same time, lips meeting each other. It was soft and sweet, nothing like the desperate and hungry times before. It was just affectionate.

"This was..." he started.

"Different," you finished.

His eyebrows raised, a nervous laugh leaving his lips. "Good different?"

You smiled and nodded your head before leaning up again to kiss his cheek. "Yeah. Good different."

"I'll see you in a few days? Mikey wants to do a movie night."

"Yeah. I'll be there."

You unlocked your car and got in the driver's seat, cheeks flushed not just from the cold. You reached your hand down, putting the key in the ignition and turned, all while watching Gerard walk across the parking lot to his own car.

As you drove away, you couldn't help but smile.

Once you reached your apartment, you immediately collapsed on your bed. Your mind replayed the date over and over, and you panicked internally knowing that you actually liked Gerard Way. Not just the sex. Not just the attention. Him.

Even scarier, Gerard really seemed to know you. The real you. And while your instincts screamed at you to run in the opposite direction, you took your phone out to text him goodnight.

His response was immediate.

Gerard: thanks for tonight. i had a rly good time. can we do this again soon?

You smiled at your phone.

You: sure, sounds fun.

-

Three days had passed. Three days of constant texting, of inside jokes forming, of you finding excuses to think about him. Three days of feeling like a real couple, even though you hadn't labeled anything yet.

Which made walking into the Way house that Sunday night feel dangerous in an entirely new way. You had promised yourself and Gerard you'd tell Mikey soon. After the coffee date, it felt wrong to keep hiding. But "soon" was a flexible word. And when Mikey texted about movie night, you said yes before thinking it through.

Now you were standing on his porch, about to spend an evening pretending you weren't falling for his brother.

You paused in front of their front door, mentally hyping yourself up before walking in. The door was unlocked, which was normal considering how you were such a constant fixture in their lives. Your eyes scanned the foyer, flickering between the living room and the kitchen.

"Mikey? It's me."

"Yeah, I'm in here."

You followed the sound of his voice into the kitchen and found him dumping a popped bag of popcorn into a bucket before unwrapping a second bag, putting it in the microwave. You instinctively hugged him from the side, trying your best to ignore the nerves in your stomach. "Hey, thanks for inviting me."

He returned the hug, eyebrows raising. "Well yeah, of course."

Both you and Mikey turned hearing a door creak open, and you watched as Gerard appeared from the basement, making brief eye contact with you, leaving you flushed, something that Mikey didn't catch, before smiling at the two of you.

"Rent anything good?"

Mikey grinned and held up a tape: The Blair Witch Project. "Yeah, I've been wanting to see this one forever and saw it at Blockbuster today."

"Oh nice, I heard it's great."

They both continued discussing the movie, but you were left speechless as Gerard passed behind you, his hand brushing against your lower back. It was quick, but deliberate, something else that Mikey missed, as he opened the fridge and pulled out a beer.

"Either of you want one?"

You smiled softly, something you were still getting used to, and thanked him once he handed you a bottle. He looked and smelled clean, carrying himself with that same quiet confidence from the coffee shop.

The popcorn finished popping, and Mikey dumped the second bag into a different bowl. He handed it to you, and the three of you settled into the living room. Mikey crouched in front of the TV and shoved the tape into the VCR before taking his usual spot on the armchair. Gerard was already on the couch, and you made your way to the other side, hyper-aware of the space and distance between you and Gerard.

Gerard reached from the back of the couch and grabbed a blanket that was draped over the cushions, laying it over his lap before he nodded his head at you. "You cold?"

You nodded your head and accepted the blanket before turning back towards the TV. This felt too couple-y, too real. At least it did now seeing as Mikey still had no idea that you'd been sleeping with his older brother, but you didn't move. You breathed deeply, exhaling while thinking it was much easier to pretend before going on a real date. Hell, this wasn't the first movie night you'd ever had at the Way house. It shouldn't be this hard to ignore Gerard, but feeling Gerard's thigh press against yours had your heart and mind racing.

This was dangerous.

The room was bathed in the soft glow from the TV, everything else shrouded in darkness. You almost jumped feeling something warm touch your hand under the blanket, and you quickly realized it was just his hand. Your eyes glanced back and forth between Mikey and Gerard without moving your head. Mikey's attention was trained on the movie, and you took the opportunity to shoot Gerard a warning look. He responded by giving you a small, knowing smile.

Mikey leaned forward in his chair. "Man, do you think this footage is actually real? Like, did these people actually die?"

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady as Gerard's thumb traced lazy circles on your palm. "I don't think so. It's just really good marketing."

Gerard added, his voice casual despite his hand slowly moving up your thigh, "The whole campaign was genius. Got everyone talking."

"Yeah, I guess," Mikey said, settling back. "Still creepy as hell though."

You stayed still, spine straight as you stared ahead at the screen. Nothing happening on the screen registered to you. Your mind and focus were stuck on one thing, and it was the way Gerard's hand felt as it moved from your own to your thigh. Your breath hitched, feeling his hand creep closer, and you looked towards Mikey, panic coursing through you, but he didn't notice, attention still stuck on the screen.

You shifted in your seat, adjusting the blanket. Gerard leaned over, lips barely brushing your ear. "You wore that perfume I like."

A shiver ran down your spine. His breath was warm against your skin.

"The one you wore on our date. Did you do that on purpose?"

Your response was barely audible: "Don't."

"Don't what? Don't tell you how much I've been thinking about you?"

His fingers slid higher under the blanket. Your nails dug into your own thigh, trying to stay silent. On screen, something scary happened, the tent shaking violently in the night, and Gerard used the jumpscare to slip his hand past your waistband. You bit your lip, white-knuckling the armrest. You should stop this. But stopping would risk Mikey finding out in a way that you had no control over. This was different from the coffee shop. This was the opposite of careful.

"I'm tired of hiding us," he whispered against your ear.

You gave a slight shake of your head and clenched your thighs. His fingers were more deliberate now, finding your clit through your underwear, and it took all of your willpower to keep quiet. The pressure was perfect, the rhythm steady, and you could feel heat building in your core as he worked you with practiced confidence.

Your breathing got shallow. On screen, the characters were lost in the woods, the handheld camera shaking. You were lost too, drowning in sensation, trying desperately to keep your face neutral while Gerard's fingers circled and pressed. You were so close, right on the edge-

Mikey stood up abruptly.

Both you and Gerard froze. His hand didn't move from inside your jeans as Mikey stretched, yawning.

"I'm gonna grab another beer. You guys want anything?"

Your voice came out strained, but you managed: "No, I'm good."

"Nah, I'm fine," Gerard said, his voice infuriatingly steady.

Mikey walked toward the kitchen, and the second he was out of sight, you turned to Gerard, eyes wide with panic and frustration. You were so close, so close, and now—

"Relax," Gerard whispered, and his fingers started moving again, slow circles that had you biting your lip hard enough to taste copper.

You could hear Mikey in the kitchen, the fridge opening, a bottle cap popping off. Gerard's fingers pressed harder, finding the exact spot that made your thighs tremble. You turned your face into his shoulder, muffling the whimper that escaped your throat.

"That's it," he breathed against your hair. "So good for me. So quiet."

The praise combined with his touch pushed you over the edge. Your orgasm hit you in a silent wave, your whole body tensing as you clutched the blanket, face buried in his shoulder. Gerard held you through it, fingers gentle now, working you through the aftershocks.

Mikey's footsteps returned. Gerard's hand slipped out of your jeans and you sat up just as Mikey rounded the corner, settling back into his chair with a fresh beer.

"Did I miss anything good?"

You couldn't speak, still catching your breath. Gerard answered smoothly, "Nah, just more creepy forest footage."

Your heart was pounding so hard you were certain they could both hear it. Gerard's hand returned to an innocent position on top of the blanket, but you could feel the dampness of his fingers, evidence of what just happened. 

For the remainder of the movie, you stared at the screen, not really comprehending what was happening. Your body still hummed with the aftershocks, and you were hyper-aware of every breath, every movement. Gerard sat close, his presence both comforting and maddening.

The movie finally ended, leaving all three of you silent for a moment.

Mikey stretched and yawned, climbing out of the recliner. "I'm beat. You guys finishing the next one?"

Gerard's voice was steady as he replied, "Yeah, we'll keep it down."

His loaded statement left you narrowing your eyes at him. Glancing back up at Mikey, you smiled, trying to make it convincing. "Night, Mikey."

Mikey turned and headed upstairs, calling out, "Don't stay up too late."

You both listened to the footsteps on the stairs, leading to the bathroom, then to the bedroom with the door closing. Silence. You waited another moment, making sure he wasn't going to come back down.

Neither of you moved at first. The air was electric, charged with everything unsaid.

Gerard glanced up the stairs, his confidence seeming to wane. "We should probably actually watch-"

You cut him off with your lips, fingertips finding his hair, running through before scratching at his scalp. "Shut up and touch me."

He didn't argue, and his hands grasped at your waist, tugging you into his lap. You weren't surprised feeling the obvious erection beneath you, and you ground down on him, all of the pent-up energy and frustration finally having an outlet beyond his fingers.

You broke the kiss for a breath and panted out, "I've wanted to do this all night."

Gerard kissed you again, and you could feel him smiling against your lips. "I know. I could tell."

You were both hyper-aware of Mikey upstairs. Frantic, rushed movements kept as quiet as possible. You straddled his lap, raising your body so you could reach down and unbutton his jeans, pushing them and his boxers down just enough so that you could pull out his cock. Your fist grasped it, and you gave it a couple of quick pumps before positioning yourself above him.

You shoved your jeans and panties down to your thighs, no time to fully remove them, and sank down onto him in one motion. You both gasped, and his hand immediately flew to cover your mouth.

Gerard was breathless. "You're being so good. So quiet."

He thrust up hard and fast, making you whimper against his palm. He only grinned, eyes flickering from your face to the stairs. "Shhh. Don't want to wake Mikey, remember?"

You could hear the thrill in his voice. He was enjoying this.

"You weren't this quiet in my car."

Another hard thrust that made your eyes roll back.

"Or in your shower."

His hips snapped up again.

"Or- fuck, in my basement."

Each memory was punctuated with movement, and you found yourself clinging onto his shoulders for dear life as he moved beneath you, one hand covering your mouth and the other gripping your hip, simultaneously using you and making you lose your mind.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, moving your hips down to meet his thrusts. His hand left your mouth and moved to your waist so that both hands were guiding your movements. You bit down on his shoulder to stay quiet, and a low groan left his lips.

"That's it. Mark me. I'm yours anyway."

You ground yourself against his pelvis, your still-sensitive clit gaining friction with each movement. All the buildup from the night was finally paying off.

"Come on, let me hear you. Just a little."

You shook your head no, but your body said yes. You were close, so close.

Your face buried in his neck, a silent scream leaving you as you shook and clenched around him. Gerard's hand flew to your hair, holding you close, and you felt submerged in his scent as you went over the edge.

"That's it. I've got you."

Gerard followed right after, hips stuttering before he groaned, biting down on his lip to keep from being too loud. He pulsed inside you, warmth flooding between your legs as his grip on you tightened. You both breathed hard, and he continued to hold you tight against him for a long moment before you sat up.

Your eyes scanned him, and you lazily smiled seeing his flushed face, hair stuck against his forehead from sweat. Feeling both panicked and giddy, you slid off of him and quickly started to clean up, eyes flickering up to the stairs every so often.

You'd just had sex in the Way family living room. Mikey was upstairs. The evidence was still warm between your thighs.

And you felt... amazing. Not grossed out. Not regretful. Just... good. Right, even.

You slid your panties and jeans back on, cringing at the mess in your pants before you climbed back on the couch with Gerard. He smiled at you before reaching out to brush your hair back from your face, kissing your forehead softly.

"We really should tell him soon."

You were still catching your breath as you responded. "Yeah... soon."

And you meant it.

Gerard put on another movie, some B-horror flick that you were almost positive no one had heard of. You didn't really watch it though. You rested your head on his chest, limbs tangled together with a blanket covering you both. It looked like an actual couple. In the back of your mind, you mused on the domesticity of it, comparing this to previous relationships, and slowly coming to the realization that you were falling for him.

But now that you were realizing it, you knew that you weren't falling. You'd already fallen.

When did this become real?

Gerard's steady heartbeat thumped under your ear, fingers playing with your hair as your mind raced.

You both fell asleep like this, tangled together. Dawn light started to creep through the windows, illuminating the peaceful and intimate display.

You were caught between sleep and waking when you heard it: Mikey's bedroom door opened, followed by footsteps on the stairs.