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intheorangebedroom · 1 month ago

Note

I love how this gif jumped straight from WhatsApp to my inbox.

Explicit yes below the cut.

When you moved in with him, he plucked the Gladiator VHS out of one of your boxes and asked if you still had a VCR. You shrugged and said no, but you love that movie and that VHS has been with you forever and “have you seen Russell Crowe in his Roman uniform???” with an upward curl of your lips that had him raise an eyebrow.

Okay. Russell Crowe. As a Roman general. He knows only too well -and appreciates- your taste for veterans, but he had no idea it extends to the Roman legion.

First, he thought about finding an old VCR and surprise you with it. So you could play that tape and watch the movie together with What’s-his-face commanding his legion or whatever it is that put that spark in your eyes. Show you he’s not the jealous kind.

But then… well then he gets a far better idea.

He takes him a while to find it, and when he does, he has to drive all the way to the city to the rental place, then back home, where he hides the whole thing in an inconspicuous container under the workbench in his toolshed. Not too close to where he keeps the zip ties because then you’ll surely find it.

It's huge, and cumbersome. It comes with so many accessories, the shoes and the cape and a sword and the frigging golden laurel wreath in a wooden box…

Yovanna and Santi are throwing their annual Halloween party, which will provide him with the perfect occasion to wear it. As the day draws closer, and you keep asking him what he’ll go as, it becomes increasingly difficult to maintain a poker face. “I don’t know what you got up your sleeve, Morales, but your Halloween costume better be scary.”

At long last, the 31st is here. He dashes in from work and goes straight to the toolshed. The whole attire is a nightmare to strap on by himself, but after 15 years of his life adjusting tac vests, he manages.

When he steps into the bedroom, you’re zipping up a dark blue Michael Myers suit. You usually prefer to coordinate your costumes, only this year he decided to play solo, so you had to improvise on your own.

You turn around to the sound of his footsteps on the carpet just in time to watch him walk through the threshold, clad head to toe as a Roman general.

And oh! he’s a mighty vision. His silhouette looks twice as massive. The chest armor, adorned with two winged chimeras, emphasizes his impossible breadth. His shoulders fill up the entire door frame. A white cape, embroidered with threads of gold, is flowing behind him, and on his plush lips, a devastatingly smug smile, and you forget how to breathe. Your ribcage caves in on a breathless gasp. Your eyes grow wide and your mouth falls open.

It's not... It's not the grime and crimson of battle. It's the white and gold of triumph. It’s as though all the light in the room emanates from him. Like he is made of it. Made of gold. And his hair, oh his hair, underneath that golden crown, curls in every direction, like that bust of Agrippa you once fell in love with in the Louvre.

He is magnificent.

And that son of a bitch knows it.

“You son of a bitch…” you whisper.

His grin stretches, revealing his dimple. And he fucking chuckles.

You briefly consider texting Yovanna to cancel. Bail out on your favourite evening of the year, but then you think different. You're going to go to that party and walk into their house with that man of pure golden light on your arm. Parade him all night. And then, you’re going to go home with him and ride him into next year.

When you get there, you are rewarded by the attendees' collective gasp upon his entrance. You’re probably hovering 10 centimeters above the floor with sheer pride. Yovanna shoots you a “good for you, girl!” look you have no trouble interpreting.

You spend the entire party watching him with a coveting gaze, hiding behind your mask. You might die, from want and anticipation and also dehydration with how hot and sweaty you get, with the size of his arms, and his naked legs on display, thick and solid and strong in just the right proportions. He looks so good it's obscene, and from across the room, he makes sure you're looking at him. That grin hasn't left his gorgeous face. You know he can see through your mask, through your thoughts, through your need.

On the drive home, both of you are silent. There's too much tension, it's crackling and sizzling like butter on a pan, and you zip your combination down to your waist to free the upper half of your body from the dense cotton material. With a side glance, you catch the working of his pebbled throat, confirming he’s registered how snugly your black tank top hugs your breasts.

You are wet all over. Saliva pools into your mouth at the sight of his freckled skin, the rippling muscles of his exposed forearms and his thick fingers curled around the wheel.

You don’t even make it to the bedroom.

As soon as you get home, you step in front of him and brace both hands on his massive chest. The rigid armor feels so real, and you are reminded, once more, of the fabric of him. Of what his life has been. Of what he's done and seen. The battles he’s fought, the wounds he survived. And the way he chose love to redeem all his sins.

A warrior. A lover. Your man.

Quietly, you undress with trembling hands under his trained gaze. The dark pool of his eyes glimmers in the semi-darkness, in the feeble glow from the table lamp that catches at each and every golden detail of his uniform.

With a light touch, you back him up into the armchair. When he sits down in it, it looks like Caesar's throne.

And then, you kneel before him, on the rough carpet, between his spread legs, hands splayed around his calves, skimming up to rest over his thighs. Feverish palms to feverish skin.

His tongue peeks slowly between his parted mouth to lick at his plush bottom lip, and you clench, sticky slick leaking down into your ruined underwear as you bunch the white toga in your fists and push it back.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice a quiet rasp.

“Yea,” he husks, bucking his hips forward, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his large hand a loose curl around your jaw as he guides your face closer to what has you begging.

Brushing your cheek against his thigh, you nuzzle the bulge of his boxer briefs, and the heady scent of his sex makes you dizzy. He’s hard when you pull him out, hard and warm and throbbing in the palm of your hand, and his heavy breathing fills your ears. Pursing your lips around the fat tip of him, you taste his want. The tangy flavour travels down to your core and you squirm wantonly at his feet, eyes fluttering shut at the heavy glide of his cock over your tongue.

Carding his fingers through your hair, his hand wrapped on your nape, he draws you in gently, down to his base, inch by inch, and you focus on what he’s giving you, on the impossible size of him, eyes flickering open to lock onto his, as he watches you take him in. Your fingers burrow into the thick of his thighs, nails digging in, and he thumbs away a stray tear from the round of your cheek as you keep him there, pulsating hot and heavy inside your throat until you can’t breathe.

When you pull away, heaving chest and teary eyes, with a thread of saliva bowing down from your mouth to his cock, he bends forward in a creak of leather, to grab at your waist and motion you up. You moan in complaint, please Frankie please, jolting at the cold touch of his golden cuff on your skin.

“Shhh, c’mere,” he husks.

You stand up ruefully but docilely between his legs, and you might be crying, looking down at him, because it rips through your chest, it tears your bleeding heart apart, the timeless beauty of him. The reassuring breadth of his solid frame, the fathomless depth of his dark eyes, the pensive crease in his brow. His perfect features framed underneath the wreath of laurel. The softness of his touch, the restraint on his strength, when he slides your panties down carefully.

You cup his face between your hands to make sure this man is real, scraping your nails through the scruff of his beard, thumbs resting over the bare patches of his sharp jaw.

He runs a thick digit through your soaking folds and your whole body shivers, knees buckling, you’d crumple on the floor if it wasn’t for his firm hold on your hip.

“So? Do you like the costume?” he asks softly, teasing your entrance with his middle finger, and you laugh through your tears.

His grin falls as he leans forward with a frown, rustling fabric and creaking leather, to press his forehead into your belly, chin pushing at the apex of your thighs, tongue darting to lick a broad stripe across your folds. His primal grunt vibrates along your spine and down your limbs, so fucking sweet, baby.

The sharp edges of his golden crown bite into your palm when you thread your fingers through his curls.

“C’mere,” he beckons, drawing you in, “come sit on it.”

His large hand skims down along your smooth skin and curls at the back of your leg, sitting you in a straddle over his lap. The armchair is large, but he’s larger yet, and even more so with the cape and the chest plate and the leather pteruge, and it’s a fumble to find a good position.

He scoots forward over the seat but your knees knock uncomfortably into the armrest, and he huffs in frustration. You tilt up his face and realise you haven’t even kissed him yet, too caught up in his glorious beauty.

“Francisco,” you breathe out, and he stills.

You lower your mouth to his, tongue gliding over the soft cushion of his lips, and he opens up, kissing you back full and deep, your tongues entwined and swirling languidly. His hands find the plump of your cheeks, spreading you for him.

When he breaks the kiss, it's with a rushed grumble of “let me take this fucking thing off,” but you're already sinking down onto his length with a pained moan, furrowed brow and eyes clenched shut at the blinding stretch, fluttering walls and quivering chest.

You settle there, the coarse hair at his base grazing your swollen clit, his warm shuddering breath fanning your face. You feel him throb at the center of you, and you cling on to him, to his cape, forehead to forehead, the cool surface of his armor pressed to your peaked breasts.

“Keep it on, Frankie, please. I want to know what it feels like to fuck a god.”

—

HAPPY FRANKIE FRIDAY, MY LOVE 🧡

#Kelli #i think i might love you more than i love him #i had a BIG moment of “wtf am I even talking about” last night too lol #the pilot™️#frankie morales #francisco catfish morales #frankie friday #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #yes this is straight up ptmy i'm not even gonna try to hide it #and i guess #gladiator II #marcus acacius #and I mean #Russell Crowe in that uniform??? With the wolf furs? fuck yes please

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 7 months ago

Note

Jace hockey Au where Cregan is captain and jace and reader are fwb. They inevitably catch feelings. One try to distance from the other, but Jace get hurt when you’re not at the game (hospital hurt) and maybe something about aegon hurting him and being in another team? I NEED a hockey au!!!!!!

Although I'm Canadian and should know a lot about hockey, my knowledge comes from going to my little cousin's games a few years ago and the hockey smut books from booktok. Don't take anything too seriously, there's high chances I made mistakes

Also, this is 3.2k and I don't know how I got there. Enjoy!

Warnings: 18+, smut, p+v, mention of fingering,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Tonight’s game against the Falcons had everyone on the edge of their seats up until the last second. The score was a tie and, with less than three minutes to the third period, the chances of winning before hearing the end buzzer were slim. Very slim. But not impossible because Jacaerys — thanks to a great pass from Cregan — skated his way to scoring the winning goal.

Music blared from the speakers of the frat house when the last of the Wolves bustled through the door, fresh out of their post-game showers and ready to party.

Cregan and Jacaerys were at the front of the group, the former’s arm thrown over Jace’s shoulders and shaking him as everyone inside cheered and whooped for them.

‘’Here come the MVP of the night!’’ Cregan shouted over the noise. ‘’Someone bring him a beer!’’

The chaos at the door pulled your attention from the story Baela was telling you, your eyes focussed on Jace who was laughing under his teammate’s enthusiastic grip, his dark curls still slightly damp from the shower.

Goddamn, he looked gorgeous.

Baela smirked and nudged you. ‘’Looks like your boy just came in,’’ she pointed out, nodding towards the entrance where Jace was standing, still surrounded by the cheering crowd.

You tore your eyes away from Jacaerys. ‘’He’s not ‘my boy’,’’ you told her for the third time, rolling your eyes as you took a sip of your drink. ‘’We’re just friends.’’

‘’Whatever makes you sleep at night,’’ she teased, a knowing glint in her eyes. ‘’Or not sleep.’’

You mentally groaned. If you had been more careful, she would never have had this awkward run-in with Jace last Wednesday at the dorm and therefore would not know about you fucking the Wolves’ center player on the side.

A beer was brought to him and he took a long and deserved gulp. More of his teammates crowded around him, accompanied by a hoard of puck bunnies. They were easy to recognize as they only hung around hockey players at parties. Most of the time, they didn’t know much about hockey, they only wanted to stroke a player’s ego in hopes of getting in their pants.

You grimaced at the blonde hanging at Jacaerys’ arm and left to look for Rhaena, pulling Baela along.

Later into the night, you were talking to Rhaena about Baela’s last Tinder date disaster when you felt a hand on the small of your back. Usually, you would have pushed them off you, but the smirk on Baela’s face told you exactly who it was. As if the woodsy cologne wasn’t enough.

‘’There you are,’’ he said to you, a beer in his other hand, then turned to the twins. ‘’Did you girls enjoy the game tonight?’’

Attending the Wolves' hockey games on Fridays had become a routine with your friends. It was a great way to unwind from school and encourage college peers. You used to go alone with Rhaena as you were both friends with Jace, but Baela began tagging along when she found out how hot their captain was.

‘’Rhaena had to bail on this one. One of the baristas called in so she had to take an extra shift at the campus coffee house,’’ you explained.

Rhaena nodded, annoyance toward her co-worker visible in her face. ‘’I heard you scored the winning goal. Congratulation!’’ She extended her arm to clink her beer with Jace’s.

He thanked her, his hand slipping underneath your shirt to stroke your soft skin. You leaned into his touch, pleased with the discreet intimate touch.

‘’So, how does it feel to be the hero of the night?’’ Baela asked, smirking again.

Jace rubbed the back of his neck, his dark curls bouncing slightly. ‘’I would not call myself a hero,’’ he corrected, a shy smile at the corner of his lips. ‘’I couldn’t have done it without Cregan’s pass.’’

Across the kitchen, the girl who’d attached herself to his arm earlier seemed less than happy he was talking to the three of you. When Jace spotted her, he groaned.

‘’Not again… I’ve been running from Clemence for the past ten minutes. Some girls can’t take a hint.’’ He didn’t want to leave — you didn’t want him to either —, but running from puck bunnies was sometimes easier than dealing with them. ‘’I’ll see you later?’’ he said to you, cocking an eyebrow as he waited for your answer.

You nodded, impatient to get your mouth on that dick.

⁂

‘’Do that again!’’ you begged, completely forgetting about the other Wolves players who had their rooms nearby.

Below you, Jace gripped your hips and gave another upward thrust, making you gasp in delight as his cock hit every single good place inside of you.

‘’Ah, yes!’’ Bracing your hands on his abs, you threw your head back, your perky tits swaying as you moved your hips and bounced on his cock, riding him until your legs were shaking from pain. ‘’I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come,’’ you warned, starting to feel yourself approaching the edge.

Getting the message, Jace brought his hand to where you were joined and rubbed your swollen clit with his thumb until a long, drawn out moan left your lips, your orgasm hitting you like a brick wall, your pussy spasming around him.

You collapsed on Jacaerys’ chest, out of breath and eyes rolling into the back of your head as he continued to fuck into you, drawing out your orgasm until he finally reached his own.

Despite the ache in your legs, you moved off him and flopped on the bed while Jace ran a hand through his hair. ‘’That was your reward for the goal you scored tonight,’’ you said, making Jace laugh as he tossed the condom in the trash.

He rearranged his body so his head was on the pillow instead of the mattress, tiredness catching him after his game and the sex. ‘’I’ll try to score goal like that more often.’’

You joined him in his laughter.

⁂

The next Friday, the Wolves were playing out of town…in another state. You tried to get a spot on the supporter bus, but all spots were already taken, forcing you to miss the game.

You busied yourself for the night, making the last corrections on your paper that was due on Monday. It should have been finished days ago, but you got…distracted.

At around 10pm, your phone buzzed with a text when Jace made it back to the bus. It was a picture of him in the darkness of the bus, a big winning grin on his face.

Jace: I expect a victory kiss when I get back

Victory kiss he got when you saw him on Saturday at the Omega Phi party.

⁂

When you started college, you promised yourself to never be the girl who gets fucked in a bathroom at parties, but here you were with your tits out and Jacaerys’s skilled hand under your dress. And you had absolutely no regrets. It was part of the college experience.

You rearranged the bottom of your dress before slipping out of the bathroom and looking for your friends. Music pounded in your ears as you walked through the people, searching for a white-haired girl in a blue skirt.

Baela had worn her most flattering skirt, set on getting Cregan’s attention tonight. They knew each other, but she was tired of being overshadowed by puck bunnies playing dumb or flashing their tits in his face.

‘’Did you speak to Cregan yet?’’ you asked once you found her in the kitchen. ‘’I saw him in the living room with Benjen and Niklaus. No girls in sight. This is your chance if you—’’

Baela interrupted you, noticing the wrinkles on your dress and a mark on your neck. ‘’Please tell me you were not doing what I think in a random person’s bedroom? Do you know the risks of getting an STI?’’

You poured yourself a drink, avoiding her eyes. ‘’I was not…doing that. I was also not not doing that,’’ you said, taking a sip to hide your smile behind your red cup.

⁂

After Sunday practice, you met Jace and Cregan at the pancake place just outside campus.

‘’Sorry, I’m late!’’ you apologized, walking over to their table in a sweatshirt and leggings. No other attire was acceptable on Sundays. ‘’I couldn’t find my dorm key and Baela’s dad is here for the weekend, so she was already out when I woke up.’’

Jace shook his head. ‘’It’s fine. I ordered for you already.’’

You slid into the booth, your stomach growling in appreciation. ‘’Thanks, I’m starving. Have you guys heard about Cassandra from Zeta Alpha Zeta? According to Rhaena, she was caught leaving a bedroom with Marcus at Omega Phi’s party…if you know what I mean.’’

There were likely kids at this restaurant, so you switched some of the vocabulary to spare their young ears and not receive looks from parents.

‘’The guy on the swim team?’’ Jace asked, raising an eyebrow.

You hummed as you took a sip of his berry smoothie, and dove deeper into campus gossips. Working at the coffee house had its perks: you were hearing all sorts of dramas.

Before you, Cregan seemed less interested in the gossip than you and Jace, but he humored you with a nod. ‘’We can switch so you can sit next to your girlfriend,’’ he offered, starting to stand up, but Jace was quick to correct him.

‘’We’re not dating,’’ Jace said, a little too fast for your liking. ‘’We’re just friends.’’

Cregan snickered, settling back into his seat.

⁂

You hated yourself for staying for a movie after sex, but you were unable to say ‘no’ to Jace’s Puss in Boots pout. Besides, you were friends before you added the benefits part. Watching movies was part of the things you did together.

As the movie played, Jace broke the silence. ‘’I tried to call you this afternoon, and it went to voicemail. I thought you didn’t have any classes?’’

‘’I didn’t. I went to the library,’’ you replied, your eyes still on the screen, trying to keep it casual. ‘’I was studying with a guy from my English class.’’

‘’A guy?’’ Jace’s eyes narrowed.

‘’Aemond. He’s in my English class—’’

‘’Are you kidding? Aemond?’’ Jace sat up, sheets pooling around his waist. He recognized the name instantly. ‘’You need to stay away from this guy. His brother is captain of the Dragons — our rival team. The same guy who bullied me at hockey camp when I was a kid. He’s probably just asking you out to piss me off.’’

A laugh escaped your lips, more incredulous than amused. ‘’Why would he do such a thing? Aemond is a nice guy.’’

Jace's frustration boiled over. ‘’You don't get it! That whole family is fucking snakes. During my rookie year, Aegon and I were in a corner of the ice and he chucked one of his teammates from behind and blamed me. I was benched for misconduct and not allowed to play for three weeks. And right now you’re giving him material to piss me off!’’

You sighed, still on your defenses. Being part of the same family doesn’t make him the same as his brother. ‘’Just because his brother was nasty to you doesn’t mean Aemond’s a bad person.’’

‘’He is! We play against the Dragons this Friday. Aegon is probably scheming something…’’ Jace ran a hand through his tousled brown hair, his voice rising. ‘’What are you doing?’’

‘’I’m leaving,’’ you said firmly, pushing off the bed.

You moved around the room, searching for your things, fed up with arguing over an old hockey rivalry. What a moodkill to your night! You slipped your shirt on without another word and without bothering to look for your bra. Before leaving, you grabbed your jacket from the back of the desk chair, uncovering Jace's hockey hoodie, a stark reminder of what just set off this argument.

⁂

Three days went by without hearing from Jace. You saw him on campus yesterday, and he switched directions as soon as he spotted you. It was clear he was avoiding you, and you were doing the same.

Back in your dorm, you watched Baela getting ready, her makeup scattered across her bed. She hummed softly to a Taylor Swift song as she applied her lipstick.

‘’I was kind of hoping we would have a girls night with Rhaena. Facemasks, sushi and rom-coms, like we used to,’’ you said, sitting on your bed, your voice tinged with disappointment. ‘’It's been so long since we last had one. I think the last time was for your birthday…which was three months ago.’’

Baela glanced at you, a sympathetic smile tugging at her lips. ‘’I know, I miss our girls nights too. But I’m seeing Cregan in fifteen minutes.’’ An exhilarated smile spread on her glossed lips. ‘’Oh my god, I can’t believe it’s happening!’’

You were genuinely happy for her, but a small part of you couldn’t help but wish Cregan would call and cancel at the last minute. Did that make you a shitty friend?

‘’Have you spoken to Jace?’’

You shook your head, fiddling with the bottom of your sweater. It’s difficult to talk to someone when you’re actively avoiding each other.

Baela sighed, knowing drama would erupt when you agreed to this friends with benefits thing. She’s seen enough movies to know how it always ends. She reached for her shoes and purse, ready to leave. ‘’Rhaena is working the closing shift, so if you’re really lonely you can call her. I don’t know when I’ll be back.’’

You nodded and wished her a good time for her date.

After she was gone, you hesitated for a moment before deciding to reach out to Aemond and asking if he wanted to get coffee.

⁂

On Friday, Baela and Rhaena were at the game, so you found yourself alone watching Netflix in bed. The new rom-com starring Sidney Sweeney had just hit the streaming service and you were impatient to see it. The male protagonist had nothing appealing, but the storyline sounded fun.

You were half-way through your bag of Skittles when your phone buzzed with multiple messages. You expected some of them to be from the girls updating you on the game, but you were surprised to see they were from Cregan Stark.

Cregan: Hey, it’s Cregan. I don’t know where you are, but your boyfriend got hurt at the game. It’s bad.

You almost corrected him about the use of ‘boyfriend’, but your heart stopped as you read the next messages.

Cregan: Him and Aegon got into an argument before the game outside the arena and it carried on on the ice. During the third period, Aegon checked Jace and he flew right into the boards. He went down hard and got knocked unconscious. The medic team took him in an ambulance.

Cregan: He’s at the hospital. Please come.

You stared at the screen, the words blurring as panic set in. Just because you were not on speaking terms at the moment didn’t mean you didn’t care about him.

You scrambled off the bed, grabbing your dorm keys and shoes with trembling hands. Within moments, you were out the door, your heart pounding as you took a cab to the hospital. Please be okay. Please be okay.

The journey there felt like an eternity. You re-read Cregan’s messages over again, the twins’s messages coming in at the same time. You ignored them, too into panic mode to type anything back. You arrived at the hospital, breathless and disoriented, and searched for a tall, bearded hockey player.

You found him in a hallway outside a rows of rooms, his face tense with worry.

‘’Is he okay? Where is he?’’ you asked, your voice shaky.

‘’He’s stable now, but they are keeping him for the night due to his concussion,’’ Cregan replied, his voice calm and steady, a stark contrast to your panic. ‘’I have to call his mom. And Coach, to update him on the situation. Can you stay here?’’

You nodded quickly. ‘’Yes. Of course.’’

You gave him a small smile, a silent promise to watch over Jace during his absence, and took a deep breath before nervously pushing the door open.

Inside, the usually bright lights were dimmed due to the concussion. Jace lay on the hospital bed, looking pale and asleep. An IV was hooked to his arm, and the room was filled with the faint beeping of monitors. The door creaked as it closed behind you, causing Jace’s eyes to flutter open. He assumed it was either Cregan or a nurse checking on him, but it was you.

‘’Where’s Cregan?’’ he murmured, his voice raspy as he stared at the white wall.

‘’Making calls,’’ you said softly, walking up to his bedside. Tears welled up in your eyes as you took in the sight of him. He was okay. ‘’You scared the hell out of me.’’

‘’Did you go out with him? Aemond.’’

His question took you by surprise. ‘’No. Not really. We just got coffee together—’’

Pain crossed his face, but it was not from the concussion. ‘’Do you know what Aegon said to me before the game? He talked about you. Said you dumped me for Aemond, and now it was his name you would be moaning in bed. I wanted to punch him so bad for speaking about you like that, but I didn’t because I knew I would be suspended from the team. It got my head out of the game. All I could think about was Aegon and knocking that stupid smirk off his face, but he got me first.’’

This Aegon guy sounded like the biggest asshole.

‘’Aegon was lying, Jace. Aemond and I got coffee together, but that’s it. You can ask Rhaena if you don’t believe me, she was working that night. I never had any other intentions regarding Aemond. He said this to mess with you.’’

Jace sighed, frustration evident in the furrow of his brow. He felt stupid for believing Aegon. He should have seen through his game instead of letting him get to his head. ‘’Of course he did… I should have known better.’’

You took Jace’s hand, only now realizing his other was in a brace. ‘’I’m here with you, aren’t I? Not with Aemond.’’

The corner of his lips curled into a smile, and he squeezed your hand. ‘’You’re my girl, okay? I know we said we were just friends, but are we really just friends? I didn’t write ‘mine’ on your upper thigh just because I was drunk. I wrote it while drunk because I didn’t have the courage to tell you I wanted you when I was sober.’’

‘’Jace—’’

‘’Don’t say anything. Just…kiss me. Please. I can’t do a lot of thinking because of my concussion, so let’s keep the talking for later, okay? Right now I just need you to kiss me.’’ You didn’t move, giving Jace the impression you didn’t want to kiss him. ‘’You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’m not gonna force you to kiss me—’’

You cut him off with a kiss. Soft and slow, making up for the days you didn’t get to kiss him.

Unfortunately, it ended quickly as a sharp pain stabbed at Jace’s temple and he couldn’t hold back his wince. ‘’I think we’ll keep the kissing for later.’’

—

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outercrasis · 23 days ago

Text

Change of Plans

Pairing: Adrian Chase (Vigilante) x F!Reader ++ Word Count/Rating: 5.4k / E

Summary: You know Adrian is Vigilante. Now you just have to prove it, but things don't pan out like you expect them to.

Warnings: Sex pollen (there's like inherent dubcon bc of that, but they're both so into it), vaginal sex, light angst, honestly this is so fluffy and emotional bc I can't ever help myself lmao

You knew it. You fucking knew it.

You’ve had your suspicions – Adrian’s unexplainable injuries, him bailing on you with short notice all the time, his complete avoidance of any and all questions. At first you thought he simply didn’t want to be friends anymore and this was his shitty way of ending things. Then you started to notice the pattern.

Anytime Adrian Chase is unavailable, someone reports a sighting of Vigilante.

Tonight’s the final straw. You were looking forward to hanging out with Adrian and watching bad movies all week, only for him to send a text at the last minute saying can’t hang. have to stay late at work. 🧜🏻‍♂️😿

Except when you called Fennel Fields to fake a family emergency so he could get out early, you learned that Adrian wasn’t on the schedule today and he certainly wasn’t pulling any extra hours. Then you saw the video on twitter.

It was short, just a few seconds long, but it was enough. His voice. His stupid, infuriating voice. You’d know it anywhere. Combined with your already suspicious mind, you have to prove it – which leads to now. Sitting in the dark of Adrian’s apartment, waiting for him to get home.

You've come prepared. Bringing all the snacks and drinks you originally picked up for movie night, you have no reason to get up from the chair you've chosen to camp in. Tucking yourself into your favorite blanket, you're in it for the long haul.

Movies never show how boring it is waiting in the dark for someone to show up. They always skip to the good part and provide the immediate pay off. Seconds pass like minutes and minutes pass like hours. You could pull out your phone, but you don't want to chance alerting Adrian of your presence in any way.

Part of you is still having a hard time reconciling this. Despite all the evidence, there's still that voice whispering doubt that you've made this all up and are going to look insane once Adrian gets home. Adrian will laugh at you for your crazy theory and then either kick you out or relentlessly laugh at you. Either option is not preferable.

Another option crosses your mind. You try not to dwell on it, but it's impossible to ignore in the dark. What if Adrian isn't alone when he comes home? What if he's been spending time with someone he likes more? You don't want to fully consider the fallout of that – likely copious amounts of ice cream and a romcom marathon.

Enough time passes that you eventually begin to nod off. After a long week it's only natural. You drift into the weird liminal space between wakefulness and sleep, consciousness bobbing along like a ship without a motor.

Jarring is an understatement when you're woken by Adrian loudly returning home. He storms in through the sliding glass door, slamming it so hard that it pops back open again slightly. It's a rude awakening, but the adrenaline now running through your veins is a great boost.

He's hunched over the dining table, arms extended with his hands flat. You can see his heavy breathing from here. You don't need to be an expert in body language to tell that he's upset about something.

It's not until he tears his mask off, fully confirming what you already know to be true, that you gasp. You can't help it. Despite every suspicion, seeing him there is a shock. The fear of losing Adrian to someone else melts and is swiftly replaced by a fear of losing him in a far more permanent way.

Adrians's eyes go wide and you yelp as a knife suddenly arcs through the air at you. Acting purely out of instinct, you duck and the knife embeds itself into the chair where your head previously was.

“What the fuck?” you yell, frantically looking between the knife and Adrian. “You could have fucking killed me!”

Adrian stares at you. “You aren't supposed to be here.”

That stupid fire in your gut that convinced you this was a good idea in the first place sparks again. “Actually, this is exactly where I was supposed to be tonight until someone bailed on me. Again.”

You're not even sure Adrian realizes how often he's been bailing on you these past few weeks. You know how he works – completely single minded when he wants to be. Whatever he's been doing as Vigilante has kept him busy.

“You aren't supposed to be here,” Adrian repeats again. The look in his eyes is wild, his breathing still erratic. It doesn’t even seem like he's put the pieces together on you figuring out his secret identity. Whatever footing you thought you had has been swiftly pulled out from under you.

You take careful steps towards the dinette like you're approaching a scared animal. “Ade? Are you okay?” You lift your hands, showing him that they're empty. The last thing you want is for him to think you're a threat.

He doesn't move. It's unnerving. Adrian is always moving, fidgeting, talking. Some days you want to strap him down to keep him in one place. If it weren't for the continued heave of his chest you'd think he became a statue.

A half a step away, he speaks again. “You have to go. Now. Otherwise I can't-”

“I'm not leaving you, Adrian. You're scaring me.” As angry as you are over all this, your concern for him overrides it.

His hands ball into fists. “Fuck, I'm sorry.”

“Sorry for wha-”

You don't get to finish your question before Adrian is on you. His mouth crashes onto yours, all teeth and desperation. You feel every hard line and contour of his costume pressed against your body. His hand engulfs your jaw, keeping you firmly in place.

So this is what kissing Adrian is like. You never imagined it quite like this, but you aren’t complaining as he overwhelms your senses.

He tastes faintly of mint – a sharp contrast to the rubber and cordite smell of his suit. His hands are seemingly everywhere all at once while all you can do is hold onto him. There's a fuzz in your ears as every sound except for those coming from Adrian gets blocked out.

The burn in your lungs finally forces you to break the heated kiss. It doesn't stop Adrian. He simply moves down to your neck, sucking and biting it in ways that are sure to bruise. He's mumbling into your skin the whole time but it's nothing you can make out.

“A-Ade?” He doesn't stop. You want to sink into this. Give in completely and let Adrian have his way. It's not right though. Adrian isn't quite right and you need to know something, anything before this can continue.

“Ade.” He bites a little too hard on your neck. “Adrian!”

You push and shove his concrete wall of a body, not stopping until he finally does. It's a small consolation that he looks abashed.

“What the fuck is going on?”

To say that Adrian looks delirious would be kind. His eyes are glossy, hair sticking up in all different directions, and a deep flush running down his neck. Whatever is happening, it's impacting his ability to think straight.

“I'm sorry,” he mumbles. “I got hit with some kind of dart and I feel like I'm on fire. I came home to deal with it myself but then you were here and you said you wouldn't leave and-”

His explanation gets caught in a high pitched whine. Adrian pulls you flush against him, nearly crushing you in a hug as he clearly attempts to restrain himself. You realize that the stiffness you felt before was not an athletic cup in his suit.

“How can I help?” you hear yourself ask. This is probably, definitely, stupid.

You're still pissed at him for not telling you about his double life. You're still trying to process the fact that he has a double life. Despite all of that, he's clearly suffering right now and you can't walk away. He's still Adrian. He's still your best friend.

He's still the idiot you love.

“You don't-”

You cut him off. “Well I'm going to, so tell me how to help.”

Adrian looks like he could cry. Whatever he had expected his night to be, it clearly wasn't this.

“Need you to touch me.” His words come out as a whine. Whatever this is affecting him, it seems to come in waves as Adrian's control start to slip again.

“You're sure? This isn't just whatever was in that dart?” You have to know there's some real part of Adrian that wants this. If it's just a drug controlling him, you can't do that to him or yourself.

Adrian pulls your hand, marching in the direction of his bedroom. “I've jerked myself off to the thought of you since the first day we met.”

Well. Not exactly poetic, but you certainly feel better about the current situation.

The moment you step inside his bedroom Adrian is on you again. His tongue presses into your mouth while his hands work on removing your clothes. It's desperate and ungraceful, but you'd be lying if you said it was a turn off.

You know part of it is just the drug. Its effects are evident in Adrian's shaky hands and nearly possessed need to remain in contact with you. You know Adrian well enough to know the parts that aren't. He's making a valiant effort to ramble between kisses, trying to convey how beautiful you are and how long he's thought about this. Although all lights are clearly green he still checks in before he tears your underwear off and mumbles a quick apology.

You're suddenly off your feet, falling backwards onto the cushion of his bed. Shock is replaced by a wave of heat rolling through your body as you take in the new view.

Adrian is standing above you fully clothed in his Vigilante suit except for the mask. He looks imposing, the armor only making him that much bigger than he does without. He's palming his cock through the thick fabric in a futile attempt to take any of the edge off.

You never would have considered it, but Adrian in his getup while you're beneath him completely bare is certainly doing something for you. You wonder if he'd ever fuck you in the mask. The thrill of it would likely be worth missing out on his gorgeous face.

The stare he seems to be caught in is more than a little flattering. Gears are clearly whirring in his head, but it's like he can't decide which is the next best step to take. He looks like he wants to eat you alive.

You drag a hand down along your body, thrilled as Adrian’s eyes quickly lock onto the movement. It’s a leisurely pace, even circling back up once or twice before finally making the descent towards the apex of your thighs.

You barely graze the short curls there before Adrian drops to his knees and bats your hand away.

“No fucking way am I letting you do that.” He tears off his gloves with his teeth and unceremoniously sinks a finger into your core. You feel even better than he imagined and you both groan in a filthy harmony.

Adrian doesn't have much tact – falling somewhere between what would be ideal and jackhammering. You've certainly experienced worse. You know he's not some blushing virgin, nor is he a selfish asshole, so you're willing to chalk this up to the desperation of the drug in his system. It's only confirmed when he speaks.

“I'm sorry. Fuck - I want to take my time with you but I need-”

“It's okay, Ade. Let's get you feeling better first, yeah?”

Adrian groans, the word first ringing between his ears. He's not lucid enough to parse out what that could mean, but it sounds promising. “You're too good for me.”

His head falls against you, which quickly turns into him mouthing at your inner thigh. You really hope it's not just the drug that's made him so oral-focused.

There's the jingle and snap of a belt coming off. You prop yourself up on your elbows in time to see Adrian pulling his pants down just far enough to let himself free. If you had any shame left at this point, you'd be embarrassed by your gasp.

Precum leaks freely, sliding down his considerable length. The head of his cock is red and clearly bordering on, if not actually, painfully aroused. “Thimble” your ass.

Before you can give his dick any further consideration, Adrian grabs your hips and drags you to the edge of the bed. The need pulsing in his veins is reaching a fever pitch.

There isn’t much ceremony as he presses into you, folding over in a bout of sheer ecstasy. You wish you could bottle the moan that’s pulled from his chest. Tears catch in the corners of your eyes and you’re not sure if it’s from the perfect burning stretch of him or if it’s from the overwhelming feeling that this is finally happening.

“So good for me. Knew you would be. Oh fuuuck, you're squeezing me so well…” Adrian rambles.

Being inside you seems to have taken the edge off for the moment. He’s as gentle as he can be, trying his best to give you time to adjust. His mouth laves over your skin, finding your breasts and making your back arch up into him. It provides exactly what you need.

“C'mon, Adrian. Fuck me,” you say. Whatever control he was clinging to shatters.

Adrian sets a devastating pace. He regrets not being able to take things slower. He'd always imagined being able to tease, slowly working you up and making you laugh, until the moment where he finally got to ravish you.

The regret doesn't last long. Not while he feels the heat of you wrapped around him, your clear sounds of pleasure beneath him. The worry that he's somehow taken advantage of you lessens with each stroke.

You look heavenly laid out beneath him. Your fingers dig into his scalp, sending tingles down his spine. He's already addicted to your little moans and whines, knowing that he'll die if he never gets to hear them again after this.

He's imagined this countless ways and countless times. None of them ever involved highly unregulated and experimental sex drugs, but then he supposes that's on him for not being more creative in his fantasies. He still didn't come close to how good this would feel.

“I can't- I'm not going to last,” he grunts.

You tug the hair on the back of his head lightly. “That's okay. Let go, baby.”

Adrian unravels at the pet name. His brain and baser urges can't fathom pulling out at this point, instead pounding deeper in as he lets himself go. It's almost enough to push you over the edge with him.

His body is heavy on top of you, half collapsed and boneless. “Holy fuck.”

“Better?” you ask.

“Mhmm,” he hums.

Your breath hitches as Adrian begins to slowly rock his hips again. You expected he would need a moment to recover, but he feels just as hard as when you started. Thrill mixes with concern as you wonder just how long Adrian will be in this state for.

“Not done with you yet.”

His hand slips down between your bodies. His thumb gently swirls over your clit. This slow and sensual pace is so different from the violent pounding you were just receiving that it's dizzying. It's not long before you’re back on the edge of ultimate pleasure.

Adrian nips at your neck, immediately soothing it with his tongue. “Your turn. I need to see how pretty you look when you come. Please, please, please,” he begs, still breathless from his own release.

His sweaty forehead presses against yours, locking eyes with you. With that, one more swipe of his thumb, and one more please, you're crying out as your cunt clenches around him. He continues his gentle rock, working you through the intense orgasm.

Adrian’s wild grin greets you as you reopen your eyes. He leans down to give you a messy kiss as he ramps his speed back up. “You're so fucking hot. I nearly came just watching you. I know you're not on any sex drugs but I'm going to make you do that as many times as I can. Hottest thing I've ever seen.”

You have absolutely no idea how long these drugs are going to last in Adrian's system. What you do know at this point is that you need to be ready for a long night and you're going to need to get creative. Who knew you'd be speedrunning a number of fantasies with him on the first night you're together? It's like taking a crash course in each other’s sexual proclivities.

At a certain point you lose track of the positions and angles you find together. You take him in your hand or mouth when your pussy needs a break, but draw a hard line at your ass. There's no world in which Adrian has enough patience for that to be a pleasurable experience.

Thankfully, each orgasm seems to take the edge off for longer and longer. After this, you expect that Adrian will be drained for days. If you didn't know about the drug in his system you'd be terrified by his stamina and recovery. The human body should not be able to produce that much cum in one night.

You're completely exhausted. There's no world in which you won't be limping tomorrow and potentially for days after. The discovery of lube in Adrian's nightstand halfway through your marathon was an absolute godsend but could only do so much.

The bottle now lies empty on the floor alongside the pieces of Adrian's Vigilante costume. Those came off at random, whenever he felt too restricted by them remaining on. You're not sure what to think about the jolt that ran through you looking at all his weapons laid out on the floor. You really hope he was too delirious to notice at the time.

Adrian is currently pressed into you from behind, spooning you. He's not moving, just taking pleasure in being buried inside you. His face is pressed back into the crook of your neck, very obviously smelling you and your hair. It's sweet.

You find his hand and intertwine your fingers with his. You'll ruminate more on the size and feel of them when your brain is more operational.

“Feeling better?” you ask, voice thick with fatigue.

“So much better. I thought my dick was going to explode earlier but now it just feels normal.”

You chuckle. “I'm glad your dick didn't explode.”

“Me too! I can't be the guy with the exploded dick. How would I pee?”

Your body relaxes further into his arms as sleep begins to pull you under. “I dunno. I'm glad it didn't,” you tell him. “You have a really nice dick.”

You can feel it flex inside you at the compliment. You don't think he did that on purpose. You'll have to investigate that more at a later time.

“You really think so? You're not just being nice?”

You snort. “Yes. Your dick is very nice and has made me very tired. Wake me up if you need something.” With that, you slip off into a deep sleep as exhaustion takes hold.

Adrian holds onto you tightly, still disbelieving that any of this is real. You're even better than he could have imagined. The two of you never avoided sex as a topic but you also never dove deep into it either, and Adrian’s chest always felt weird whenever he thought about anything past vanilla involving you.

Despite his want to stay wrapped up and buried in you he also knows he's taken more than his fair share tonight. Adrian slowly climbs out of bed, careful to make sure you stay asleep.

He takes stock of himself as he stands. His head feels clearer than it has in hours and his veins are no longer searing. He has no open wounds or bruises. His dick doesn't even feel that bad. This is definitely not Vigilante’s worst night. He has no idea how he's going to discuss that with you.

He maneuvers in the bathroom just from the ambient light out of the bedroom. It's good this is his own place or he definitely would have knocked things over and woke you.

Adrian cleans himself up and wets a washcloth to do the same for you. A single small noise escapes you as he does this, but you otherwise remain fast asleep. He decides it's worth the risk to pull one of his shirts over you as well.

His heart stutters at the sight of you in his bed and in his clothes. Adrian doesn't like reflecting on his feelings often. Years of forced therapy and people staring at him like he'd grown antennae out of his head whenever he tried to express an emotion really stamped that out of him. You make him want to try.

You appeared in Adrian's life unexpectedly and cemented yourself in it quickly. For whatever reason, you were charmed by what others regularly told him was weird and off putting. Faster than he'd admit, he had to reassess his entire BFF tierlist.

From the start, there had been a soft and saccharine hope that this could be something more. The second it was felt, it was buried, but it never went down deep or stayed there for long. Like an annoying but resilient weed he couldn't ignore. You probably wouldn't appreciate that comparison.

Adrian was left stuck – wanting more and not wanting to ruin your friendship. He really hopes tonight changes things.

Your brow furrows, arms reaching out to where Adrian should be beside you. He slips a pair of boxers on and joins you back in bed. He was going to grab a glass of water for when you woke up, but how can he deny that?

You snuggle into his chest and throw a leg over him. Adrian kisses the top of your head and settles in. He's asleep in minutes.

×××

It's early afternoon when you wake. Your body is starfished, left arm and leg splayed over Adrian. His gentle snores tell you that he doesn't mind.

You reposition and tuck yourself alongside his body. He's a furnace and you're happy to soak up some additional heat. While you move, you realize that you have a shirt on despite definitely falling asleep naked. It's the Fargo shirt you got him for Christmas. You smile.

It's not long before Adrian is waking up too. He's quick to pull you in closer and kiss your forehead. “I'm not dreaming or dead, right?” he asks.

“Not that I'm aware of.”

“Okay, good, cool. I just thought I'd make sure. I've had a few dreams like this and it really pisses me off when I wake up for real and you're not here.”

You tilt your head to look up at Adrian. You may need a pinch of your own to make sure you're not still sleeping.

“What?” Adrian asks. “Is there drool on my face?”

You chuckle. There is actually, but you don't tell him. Instead you shift so that you’re now laying directly on top of Adrian and lean down to give him a soft kiss.

He responds immediately, arms wrapping around you and one hand finding your ass. You end the kiss prematurely. “Don't even think about it. I'll be lucky if I can walk today.”

You could frame the grin on Adrian's face. He sneaks in another quick kiss and then holds your face in his hands, seemingly inspecting it for something.

“What?” you ask between mushed cheeks.

“You're okay? I didn't hurt you, right?”

You roll your eyes. “No. You just fucked the shit out of me and now I'm tender.” The shit eating grin returns to his face.

You spend some more time in bed, poking fun at each other and goofing around. It feels no different than any other time you've spent with Adrian except for the new level of affection and the teal colored elephant in the room that you both dutifully ignore.

Eventually, the need to pee surpasses the joys of staying in bed. You take one wobbly step before Adrian is lifting you into his arms. You let out an undignified yelp.

“You looked like a baby deer,” Adrian tells you happily as a way of explaining his reason for the sudden lift. It's an embarrassing comparison, but you'll take the help. If he doesn't actually see you waddle, it may prevent Adrian from singing “Side to Side”.

He's more than happy to carry you out to the living room after, even offering a pair of his boxers to make up for your ruined panties. You'll steal some money from him later to replace those.

You demand Adrian bring you the blanket from the chair you camped out in last night and some of your snacks. The knife is still embedded in the back of the chair. You look away and busy yourself with locating the remote.

You're quick to find a movie, choosing something at random. Netflix original that had no marketing and no one has ever heard of? Perfect. Something to fill the room with noise.

Adrian drops the blanket over your head.

“Hey!” you yell indignantly. By the time you have it off your head he's disappeared into the kitchen. The hum of Adrian’s keurig machine starts up, eventually turning into a spitting whir and two watery cups of coffee.

He settles beside you on the couch and focuses on the movie. You aren't. Leaving the bedroom popped some kind of bubble in your mind, bringing you back to last night.

Adrian is Vigilante. There's no denying it. You thought there would be a euphoric feeling along with the discovery – the absolute satisfaction in being right. Instead there's a pit in your stomach. Adrian is Evergreen's most wanted. A person who you once heard laughed while chopping a guy's arm off. Someone any normal person would be terrified of. So why aren't you?

You take a sip of your coffee. It's exactly how you like it.

He's quiet, which is starting to freak you out more than anything else. You've only seen him go completely silent while watching Fargo or the Planet of the Apes movies. This random garbage is certainly not capturing his attention like those do.

Looking around the room, you catch a glimpse of his mask on the ground where it was discarded last night.

“So, can we talk about it?” you ask tentatively, still not quite looking at him.

“Talk?” Adrian says. “What do we need to talk about? How great this movie is? Because if you want to talk about that we should probably finish it first.”

You roll your eyes. Unsubtle as always. How he even kept this secret for so long is a genuine miracle.

Your legs are unsteady but you do just fine in getting up and grabbing the mask. You throw it at him, somewhere between gentle and hard.

“That.”

“Oh right! This old thing. Not much to talk about there.” He tosses it onto the coffee table. “Let's just go back to this amazing movie. I think we're coming up on a big action sequence.”

You move to stand directly in front of Adrian, tilting his head up so that he's forced to look at you. The look he gives you doesn't help your conviction. He's nearly begging to not discuss this. Unfortunately for him, there's no amount of puppy dog eyes that can get him out of this one.

“I won't pretend like I'm not upset, but I'm also not walking out the door either. I just want to talk, Ade.”

Hearing his nickname seems to at least somewhat relax him. It's quiet for a moment, both of you struggling with where to start.

“How long have you known?” he asks.

“I've known for a while. I finally gathered enough courage to confront you about it last night.” You sit back down beside him.

“How?”

“I'm not stupid. You would bail on me and then there would be a new post online about Vigilante. I listened to a few videos of you talking to confirm and voilà. I know Vigilante’s secret identity.”

“Fuck! If you figured it out then someone else definitely has. This is so fucked. What am I going to do…” Adrian continues his worried monologue, sinking his fingers into his hair. You didn't realize how important the secret identity was to him.

“Adrian? Hey. Ade, look at me.” Your voice is commanding enough to stop his spiral. “First of all, that was rude as fuck. If I've figured it out then others definitely have? I am relatively smart, I'll have you know. Second, no one else is going to figure it out.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because I've spent a disgusting amount of time paying attention to everything about you. In and out of your suit. It would take a miracle for someone else to have paid the same amount of attention to you and put the pieces together.”

Adrian pulls his head out of his hands to look at you. “Now who's rude as fuck?” His tone is teasing. “Other people look at me. Plenty of other people want a piece of this.”

He gestures down his body. Your gaze gladly follows, which only makes you burn with embarrassment when your eyes meet Adrian's again. You want to hate his cocky grin, but you're also enjoying this new form of confidence from him.

You're not quite sure where things go from here. You have a million questions to ask, but you don't know if you're ready to hear the answers or if he's ready to share. Starting with familiar territory should help you think.

“So um, what exactly happened last night?” you ask, hoping for more details about how he ended up getting dosed with sex drugs. Or how those are something that's apparently real. Do you have to worry about that now?

A panicked look overtakes Adrian. It's a good thing he wears a mask as Vigilante – he's far too expressive and pretty to scare someone without it.

“Why? Are you-? Oh fuck, I wasn't trying to-” he blurts.

“No, no! I'm not regretting it or anything like that. I hope you don't-”

“No! I don't either. It was great, you're great. Best sex I've ever had not even including the drugs, although they really enhanced the experience.”

You can't help but laugh. The absolute absurdity of all of this has finally and fully caught up with you. You don't know why you ever expected a normal confrontation or a normal confession with Adrian. Instead you're discussing sex drugs and reassuring each other that neither of you feels taken advantage of. This chaos feels fitting though, like it could have never gone any other way with him.

Adrian starts laughing with you, awkward and clearly forced. “Why are we laughing?” Adrian asks through his fake guffaws.

You reach out, placing a hand on Adrian's arm. “I'm- I'm sorry. I swear I'm not laughing at you, Ade. This is just- it's a lot.”

You manage to calm yourself back down. “I don't regret last night and I'm glad you don't either. If this is going to work though, I have a lot of questions I need answered.”

Adrian sits up straight, eyeing you closely. “You mean you're not afraid? You want this? Me?”

It's probably a bad idea. After all, Adrian is no longer just your friend, the lonely busboy. Adrian is also a wanted and dangerous vigilante. Getting involved with him could result in things worse than a broken heart.

You look him over. His bright green eyes, nothing like you'd imagine the eyes of a killer. The light dusting of freckles that cover his skin, far too soft for some psychopath. The strong line of his jaw and neck, begging to be traced and kissed. His strong arms and hands, which managed to hold you with care even while not in his right mind.

Logic be damned, you know what you want. “Yeah, Adrian. I want you.”

Adrian pounces, knocking you back along the cushions and covering you in sloppy kisses. “Where do you want me to start?”

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