#second and sebring
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colton herta | 12 hours of sebring 2024
#this set was solely made so i could post the second pic#get his ass#colton herta#imsa#12h sebring 2024#*
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You ever just want to feel something
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I desperately need like a full strings/piano version of this song, just all soft and nice? Perfection
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this was insane
#wec#racing#for a second i thought the 7 was not able to slow down and was gonna have another sebring esque crash
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And they call me crazy (Adrian Chase x fem!reader)
Rating: Explicit - 18+ only
Word Count: 5.8k
Warnings: SMUT, Rough sex, Non-con elements - reader is drunk and a (very eager to fuck) hostage, Light bondage, Oral, P in V, Unprotected sex, Edging, Canon typical mentions of murder and violence
Summary: You're a new intern at Senator Goff's office. It's going great... that is until Vigilante abducts you after you've been out drinking, celebrating the end of your first week. (Based on this ask from anon.)
A/N: I'm fucking impatient as usual and I couldn't wait until Sunday to post this. I've added non-con to the warnings but honestly, reader is so desperate to fuck him she DOESN'T GIVE AF if it's morally questionable that she's a hostage.
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Chapter text:
Your gasp is stifled when a black glove covers your mouth and an arm wraps tight around your body. You stumble on the sidewalk, teetering back in your high heels into your assailant’s body but he holds you firmly upright.
“Don’t scream,” says a man’s muffled whisper in your ear.
Your whole body freezes up. God, you wish you were more sober. Why did you insist on walking home after those celebratory drinks? This is not the perfect ending to the first week of your internship that you’d envisioned. Is this why Senator Goff didn’t turn up for work today? They said he was sick.
“I’m not gonna hurt you if you keep quiet and get in the car.”
It’s a man’s voice. Not one you recognise. But you can barely hear it anyway over how loudly your heart is beating in your chest. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, it seems to say, battering frantically against your rib cage.
“Nod if you understand me.”
You jerk your head forward - his tight grip doesn’t make the movement easy.
God, why didn’t you listen to your Mom? She told you earlier to get a cab home and stay safe, you’d just dismissed her advice as usual because you knew best.
He removes his hand and pushes you into the open passenger door of a beat-up old Chrysler Sebring. It all happens so fast that you don’t even think to check out the license plate.
Shit.
The man shuts the passenger door after you and hops into the driver’s seat on the other side.
It’s him.
You’ve seen his masked face on the news, wanted for carrying out his own brand of retributive justice on criminals across Evergreen. You heard people talking about his latest crimes at work today. Hell, you’ve even made stupid memes about having a crush on him in your girlfriend’s group chat.
It’s Vigilante.
You were ready to beg for your life a second ago. But now all you can do is stare. At the forefront of your admittedly inebriated mind is the fact that you’ve fantasised about the masked Vigilante of Evergreen before. But in your fantasies, you’d always been someone that he’d saved from a robbery gone wrong or some other sticky situation. Not his abductee.
And this is no fantasy. He’s here - he’s real. So intimidatingly tangible and human. You can hear his breathing through his mask, see his eyes darting around your dark surroundings checking for passersby, and you can even smell the sharp, fresh scent of his cologne when he gets close to you, reaching behind you to grab a length of rope from the back seat.
“Put your hands out.” You swallow thickly, looking at his masked face. There’s no point in arguing. “If you make any indication to anyone we pass that you’re you’re here against your will, I will kill you.”
“Listen, I don’t know what you think I’ve done but I-”
“Hey - don’t make me gag you and put you in the trunk,” he says, finishing the knot around your wrists as your stomach does a little flip. Not out of fear. Something else. He turns his keys and starts the ignition. “Oooh, seatbelt! Sorry.”
You breathe in as he reaches across you to grab your seatbelt and clip you in. Your hands sit uncomfortably on your lap as the car drives out of the dark street and onto the main road.
He pulls out his cell phone as he drives to wherever you’re going and you hear the other end of the phone ringing in the silent car.
“What is it?” You strain your ears, listening as a woman answers aggressively.
“I’ve got Goff’s assistant. I’m on my way to the video store.”
Goff’s assistant? That’s a stretch. You’re an intern. And not even Goff’s intern. You’re his assistant’s intern.
“I’m not-” you start but he cuts you off.
“Quiet!”
“What?!” says the woman on the phone.
“Sorry, Harcourt. Not you.”
“No, I mean you did what?! Vigilante, you need to run this shit by me. You can’t bring her here.”
“I did you a favour! We’re way ahead of schedule now.”
You hear the unidentified woman grumble. “We’ve got Judomaster here, dumbass. Take her someplace else.”
Goff’s funny little bodyguard. Now you know that Vigilante and the woman on the phone are responsible for Goff’s absence. Shit, what’s he going to do when he realises you know nothing?
“Where am I supposed to take her?”
“That’s what happens when you go rogue, idiot. We’ll talk about this tomorrow. She’s your problem tonight.”
You hear the line beeping as the woman hangs up.
“Fuck!” says Vigilante and he does a U-turn. “Hey, close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“I’m gonna have to take you to my place. I said close your eyes or-”
“Yeah, you’ll kill me. I got it,” you say resignedly. You close your eyes feeling the car turn left, straight for a while, right, left… you lose track. You have no idea where you are or how long it takes you to get there when finally you arrive at your destination.
You hear him get out of the car and still not daring to open your eyes, you feel the cool night air when the passenger door opens.
“Can I open my eyes?”
“Nope.”
You feel him reach over you to unclip your seatbelt and he hoists you out of the car by your upper arm. He roughly steers you across what you guess is a parking lot by the way your high heels click on the asphalt.
His vice-like grip on your arm still doesn’t relent, even when you reach the stairs.
“Not so fast - I can’t see!” And you’re still kind of drunk.
“Shh! Not here,” he whispers urgently. But his hold on you becomes more gentle as he helps you up the stairs, more slowly now. A sliver of empathy.
The sound of keys jingle as he unlocks a door and guides you inside. You hear him locking and bolting the door behind you. Great.
“Can I-”
“Yeah, you can open ‘em.”
You open your eyes. The small apartment is sparsely furnished, obviously decorated by a single man. No artwork on his walls, a small dining table, a clean but worn leather couch without even so much as a throw pillow.
The screech of wood on laminate makes your arm hair stand up as he pulls over a hard wooden chair into the middle of the living room.
“Sit.”
You do as you’re told. He pulls another chair over and sits down opposite you, leaning back, with his arm resting on the back of the chair. Vigilante’s intimidating form relaxes casually in front of you.
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” he tells you.
“I - do what the easy way?” You shift in your seat, squeezing your thighs together. What wouldn’t you want Vigilante to do you right now? Stop it, you scold yourself.
“You’ve got information and I need it.”
“I really don’t have any sort of information.”
He edges his seat closer to you, close enough that you can smell his cologne again. Fuck. “Hey, I get it. I was tortured for intel a few days ago and I didn’t crack either-”
“Torture?!” You panic now. “Look, I’m not lying - I’m not Goff’s assistant! If I knew anything I’d tell you.”
His eyes narrow behind the mask. He pulls out his phone, looking through it for something. “Shit.” Vigilante looks from his phone to you. “This isn’t you.” He holds up the screen and shows you a blurry picture of your boss walking out of the office. Sure you look alike - you have the same hair colour and both wear suits to work but she’s significantly older.
You shake your head.
“What were you doing coming out of the senator’s office?” He accuses, as if it’s your fault he’s kidnapped you.
“I’m an intern. It’s my first week.”
“So you work there? Right?” he asks desperately.
“I just get coffee and take notes, dude.”
He tilts his head back, staring at the ceiling. “Oh man, Harcourt’s gonna freak out when I tell her I fucked up again. I can’t believe I picked up the wrong hostage.”
You sit, wrists still tied together in your lap staring at him. Now what? Maybe he’ll just drop you off outside the bar where the grabbed you.
“Look, we all make mistakes. It happens to the best of us. No harm done so-”
“Stop.” He looks up at you. “You know I can’t let you go.”
You take a deep breath and look at him silently for a few seconds. “So now what? Are you gonna kill me?”
“I-”
‘I’m a Barbie girl, in the Barbie world. Life in plastic, it’s fantastic’
Vigilante looks at his phone, apparently confused that it isn’t the source of the music.
“It’s mine,” you sigh, embarrassed by your choice of ringtone. You try to pick your phone out of your suit pocket with tied wrists.
“Your ringtone is Barbie Girl?”
You nod.
He pauses, giving you an unreadable look from behind his mask before reaching into your suit pocket. “I can’t let you have this.” He declines the call. Your phone pings as a message arrives. “Someone called Melanie says ‘Your boyfriend is on the news again’,” he reads.
Fuck. Your best friend Melanie knows all about your stupid crush on the man sitting in front of you right now.
“Hey- don’t read my messages!”
“I need to know if your boyfriend is gonna come looking for you.”
“I don’t have a boyfriend, I swear. She’s just making a stupid joke.”
Your phone pings again. “She’s sent you a picture - what’s your passcode?”
“I said don’t read my messages. I’m not telling you my passcode.”
Vigilante sighs and turns your phone around to face you and your Face ID unlocks it. He freezes when he opens the image.
Oh, god.
He turns the phone back towards you again and you groan. Melanie has taken a picture of the news on her TV. Vigilante is on the screen. Shit.
“I told you, it was just a stupid joke,” you mumble, feeling your face turning scarlet.
“I didn’t realise you were a fan,” he says, and you can tell from the tone of his voice that he has a stupid grin under his mask.
“Well, I’m definitely not a fan right now.” You hold up your wrists.
“She can see you’ve opened it. What should I say back?”
“Hmm... say LOL…” He starts typing. “Call the police. I’m being held hostage.”
He deletes what he just typed and gives you a stern look. “Fine, I’ll just go through your messages and see what you said before.”
“No, wait! I was kidding!” You try to snatch the phone from his hands but his reflexes are too quick for your tied hands. He doesn’t have to scroll very far back through your messages to find what he’s looking for.
Vigilante laughs and starts reading aloud. “OMG, he is so fine… I’m just gonna say that again.” He sends the message and you hear the notification of Melanie responding almost immediately. He reads it aloud. “She says ‘Knew you’d appreciate it - wink emoji’.”
“Can you just kill me already?” you ask sarcastically.
He puts your phone in his pocket. “I’m not gonna kill you.”
“So what am I doing here then?”
“Waiting. For now.” You stare at each other for a few seconds. It’s hard not to feel like you’re in immediate danger. “Do you want a beer?”
Perhaps your life isn’t in danger.
You blink at him incredulously. He walks over to the refrigerator and returns with two beers. He opens yours and hands it to you.
“Can you untie me so I can drink it?” You ask, testing the waters.
“Are you gonna try and attack me and escape?”
You’ve never been in a fight in your entire life. There’s no way you’d be able to win in a physical altercation with him, not with his reputation for massacring criminal gangs.
“No.”
Vigilante looks you over, and you stare up at him, waiting for his assessment. “I could take you, anyway,” he says casually and puts down his beer on the coffee table so he can untie your wrists.
You feel yourself blushing again at his words. Vigilante could take you. He means in a fight. But your mind immediately thinks of him taking you in another way.
When he unties you, you rub your wrists, feeling the sweet relief of having them free again. Vigilante kicks back on the couch and gestures to the seat next to him. You move over and perch uncertainly on the cool leather. He lifts the bottle of beer, and then realising he’d need to remove his mask to drink it, puts it back down.
“You can take it off if you want,” you suggest.
“And let you see my face? No way. I have a secret identity.”
“Well, I bet you’re handsome under there.”
What are you doing?
The sensible voice at the back of your mind supposes that flirting with him might convince him to free you. Another slightly louder, drunker voice in your head suggests that flirting with him might convince him to fuck you.
He looks away, flustered. “I dunno about that...”
“That’s why you wear that mask, right? You’re probably so good-looking you’d be easy to spot in a line-up.”
He lifts the edge of his mask - you think for a second he’s about to reveal who he is but instead, he takes a long drink of beer. You watch his sharp jaw and exposed neck as he swallows and get a brief glance at his wet lips before he pulls the fabric back down over his face again.
“That mask doesn’t do you any favours, hiding a jawline like that.”
“Stop it, okay. I know what you’re doing.” You raise your eyebrows. “You think because you’re pretty, you can seduce me into letting you go. It’s not gonna work.”
Pretty.
You try not to smile, to keep your expression blank. You wish you could text Melanie - she’d lose her shit right now. But you’ve laid it on a bit too thick. Even though it is true - he does have a ridiculously nice lower half of his face.
“I’m just passing the time. Believe it or not, I’ve never been abducted before.” You shrug. “So what’s the plan? Stay here until your boss on the phone tells you to kill me in the morning?”
“She’s not my boss.”
“Sounds like she is.”
“I work alone. Mostly. Or with Peacemaker.”
“So let me go then. I won’t tell a soul. I promise.”
“It’s not that simple. I can’t just release a hostage.”
You think. Hard. “What if I could get you the information you need? Then I’m an accomplice. Not a hostage.”
“I thought you just got the coffee?”
“I know where my boss keeps her laptop. And her password.”
“What kind of boss tells a brand new intern her password?”
You purse your lips, wondering how much you can safely reveal to him. “She trusts me.”
“The way you want me to trust you?”
“It’s different… I just don’t want her to get kidnapped too.”
He tilts his head. “That could work.” He hesitates. “But I’ll need to double-check with Harcourt in the morning.” He spins his bottle of beer in his hands.
“I’ll give you the laptop’s location and password if you let me see your face.”
“Uh, no. You’re giving me the location and password in exchange for letting you go.”
“This is a hostage negotiation, right?” You give him a coy smile. “Let the hostage do some negotiating.”
“No way.” He lifts the bottom of his mask up again to take another drink.
“What if I suck your dick, will you show me your face?”
Vigilante chokes on his beer.
“Jeez! I’ve already told you that you can stop coming onto me. I’ve agreed to ask Harcourt to let you go.”
“I know. I’m just shooting my shot,” you smile, resting the beer bottle on your bottom lip. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”
“Yeah, right.” He says though you can’t help but notice the way his visor-covered eyes linger on your lips.
“Dude, you saw my messages. I’ve always wanted to bump into Vigilante. Under different circumstances, obviously.”
This intrigues him. He turns in his seat, resting on the arm of the couch to face you. “Uh, what kind of circumstances?”
“Well, if you really want to know - they’re in my texts with Melanie.”
He looks at your phone again, opens your messages and starts scrolling up. His eyes widen as he pauses, reading. “Damn…”
“Which one are you reading?”
“There’s more than one?!” His voice is higher pitched this time and you grin. “Uh… ‘I wish we’d bumped into Vigilante when those guys were harassing us leaving the club last night. He would have kicked their asses and I would have-’... Holy shit.”
He adjusts himself in his seat and you can tell he’s hard just from reading your text exchange. You tilt your beer towards him encouragingly. “You can say it.”
“...‘I would have sucked the fucking soul from his body.’ Girls say this kind of shit to each other?”
You sip your drink and say nothing.
Vigilante looks at you like you’re a piece of cake he really, really shouldn’t be thinking about eating. “It would be morally wrong for me to sleep with a hostage.” He looks into your eyes.
You edge closer to him on the couch. “Accomplice, remember? I’m not a hostage if I work with you, right?”
“Listen, you are so hot. And if I met you in real life… fuck. It would be a different story.”
“This is real life.”
“You know what I mean.”
You get on your knees and crawl over to him between his legs. He shrinks back into the corner of the couch cushions. “C’mon. I won’t tell your boss.”
He swallows nervously. “You’re making it really hard for me to say no right now.”
You run your fingers over his belt. “Say you don’t want me to and I’ll stop.” Vigilante groans. You crawl forward again and press your forehead against his masked one, looking into his visor. “Tell me you don’t want me to suck your dick,” you whisper.
“Fuck…” He breathes. “And they call me crazy.”
“Maybe you should be more careful who you let in your car.”
His gloved hand grabs your wrist and for a second you think he’s going to make you stop but instead, he guides your hand onto the bulge through the fabric of his pants. Vigilante leans his head back, exposing a tiny glimpse of his neck between his mask and his suit. Your tongue finds the skin there, sliding across it and you feel him shiver underneath you.
It’s like he’s at your mercy now as you slowly, agonisingly slowly, undo his belt revealing the v-shape of his lower abdominal muscles covered in a smattering of brown hair. You slide your body down between his legs and kiss the trail of hair below his belly button while your hands work, unzipping his pants and pulling his boxers down.
Vigilante’s cock slaps his stomach when you release it from his boxers. Shit, you have a lot to work with. You’re already wet between your legs just from your conversation but the sight of him sprawled out in front of you - his entire body concealed with the exception of his hard cock - sends blood rushing to your pussy.
You lick your lips and the moment your tongue slides across his head, you feel his whole body tremble.
“Holy shit,” Vigilante whispers raggedly from behind his mask. He lifts his head to watch as his length disappears into your mouth, and you look up at him with wide eyes and hollow cheeks, sucking and running your tongue along the underside of his cock.
He grunts as you pull back to run your tongue slowly around his head again. His reaction makes your pussy ache with longing, thinking about how he’d sound with his mask off, moaning like that in your ear.
“Fuck, that’s it. Thaat’s it,” he says through gritted teeth as you find a rhythm, bobbing your head up and down. He threads his gloved hands through your hair - you think he’s going to start fucking your throat but you’re surprised when he doesn’t apply any force, letting you maintain your pace. Vigilante watches you on all fours, your ass in the air behind you as your mouth makes the wettest, sloppiest sucking sounds he’s ever heard.
Then he sees it. A glimpse of your hand under your tailored work skirt, confirming to him again that this isn’t just a ploy for early release. You’re really fucking turned on by being here, sucking his cock.
“Wait…” he whines, tugging gently at the base of your scalp. You pull back, replacing your mouth with your other hand so you can look at him. “Can I fuck you?”
You pull away and bite your lip, still pumping your hand up and down the length of his cock.
“You said you’d show me your face.” Time for your one last bargaining chip.
“I…” He hesitates, propping himself up on his elbows. “I can’t,” he pleads.
“You’ll have to cum here on your stomach then,” you grin, your wet fist picking up pace as he tenses his thighs and tries to stop his hips from jerking up into you. “If you show me your face I’ll let you cum inside me.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he groans. You stop jerking him off and watch him as he pulls his mask off, tossing it aside on the coffee table. He takes a pair of glasses out of his pocket and puts them on.
You stare at him in shock. You were mostly just teasing him earlier- you hadn’t actually expected him to be this good-looking. Sure, you knew from him drinking his beer earlier that he had a nice jawline. But even in your fantasies, he was faceless - he never had gorgeous green eyes and tousled curly hair.
“You’re hot?” You blurt out before you can stop yourself. “What the fuck!?”
He smiles. And you can see it this time. It’s beautiful. He has dimples.
The intimidation you felt before when you first saw the masked killer in front of you is nothing compared to how you feel now. You practically melt, turning into putty. Feeling lightheaded you realise you’ve been holding your breath and begin making a conscious effort to breathe again. Seconds ago you were convinced he was at your mercy but now…
“Do whatever you want to me,” you say abruptly. Your underwear is flooded thinking that this man, this ridiculously beautiful killer wants to fuck you.
“Oh… I’m gonna.” He raises his eyebrows and lunges forward, pinning you to the couch and kissing your neck. His rough exterior armour digs into your chest. Your hands wander along his shoulders, trying to find the mechanism to unclip it. He feels your movements and pushes himself off of you so he can undo them himself.
You lie back, watching him remove his suit, revealing a host of white scars and purplish-yellow welts across his toned chest and abdomen. You undo the top two buttons of your blouse.
“Nuh-uh,” he says, tossing his under armour onto the floor. You let out a yelp of surprise when he grabs the opening of your shirt and rips it open, sending buttons scattering across his floor. He pushes your bra up, not bothering to take it off to suck on your tits.
You run your fingers through his curly hair, feeling him sloppily run his tongue over your nipple. His teeth clamp down on your breast - hard - and you squeal and yank his hair.
“Ow! Not so rough!”
He just gives you a mischievous smirk and you release your grip when he sucks the spot gently, in a sort of silent apology. It’s definitely going to leave a bruise tomorrow - a secret souvenir of your night with the masked man from the news all your friends know you have a crush on.
But Christ, what have you let yourself in for?
Vigilante moves down your body, kissing your stomach and pulling off your skirt and underwear in a single movement, throwing them haphazardly on the floor. You gasp when his mouth returns to your body and a soft, wet heat envelopes your pussy. He drags his tongue slowly, carefully along your slit.
“Oh fuck…” you whine, arching your back. “Vigilante, I- wait, fuck, what do I call you?”
“Vigilante,” he says between achingly slow licks. Every nerve ending seems to light up, sending blissful signals to your brain.
“No, I - I mean what’s your name?”
“Vigilante.”
God damn.
You look down and lock eyes with him, his pupils blown so wide his green eyes almost look black as he stares up at you, swirling his tongue in wide circles against your swollen clit. The entire lower half of your body tightens up and the walls of your pussy clench, desperate for something to squeeze around. His fingers, his cock - anything.
You reach down to find his large, gloved hand and tug at the fabric, trying to pull it off him.
He pulls his mouth back and removes his glove with his teeth.
“Is this what you want, baby?” He asks, running a single finger through your slick, wet folds and over your clit.
You nod.
“Beg for it.”
“Please, Vigilante.”
He sinks two fingers deep in your cunt.
“Is this what you fantasise about?” His questioning makes you tighten around his fingers as he draws them in and out of you. Your breathing quickens in time with his fingers pressing against that sweet spot deep inside your pelvis.
He stops abruptly and the whine that escapes you is pathetic.
“Answer me.”
“Y-yes,” you moan. “Every night.” You wriggle, trying to fuck yourself on his stationary fingers.
“Finger fucking yourself like this?” He curls his fingers up into you again.
“Mhmm.”
“Use your words.”
“Yes, fuck, just like… like this.” You bring your hand to your clit and start rubbing yourself in an obscene demonstration for him as he watches from his kneeling position, one hand between your thighs.
You’re close now, you can feel your orgasm burning up inside you as your cunt starts pulsing more consistently around his digits and your breathing gets heavier. Just as your release is about to crash over you, he withdraws his hand and grabs your wrist, moving your hand away from your clit.
“Wha-?” You pant dazedly. “I was just about to-”
“I know,” he smirks. “Not yet.”
Fuck. He’s fucking edging you.
His lips meet yours for the first time and you moan softly into his mouth. His tongue rolls against yours and you can still taste your sweet and salty juices on him.
Then, without warning, he flips you over and you gasp wordlessly face down on the leather couch in stunned silence. He pulls your hips back and up towards him.
“Fuck, Vigilante,” you choke, lifting your head up and arching your back, your brain working hard to regain awareness of its surroundings.
The weight of his body presses down on top of you as he leans down to whisper in your ear.
“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you’re gonna forget my face in a line-up.”
Fuck.
He takes his cock and drags it over your soaking wet entrance, flushed and swollen for him and the broken sob that escapes you is desperate.
“Please,” you beg again. “Just let me cum.”
Vigilante sinks into you with a forceful jerk of his hips and your pussy seizes up tight around him as your face is forced onto the cold leather again. You try and push yourself up onto all fours.
“Nuh-uh, I like seeing you like this,” he says with another forceful thrust, knocking you off balance. “Hands behind your back.” You huff and do what he says, his still-gloved hand pinning your wrists behind you. “I shoulda just kept you tied up, huh?”
You can’t answer, you can’t move, you can’t do anything except just take him. Sparks of electricity reignite inside you, the deepest you’ve ever felt it as he pounds into you, hitting just that right spot again. You turn your head to look at him over your shoulder and when you see Vigilante biting his lip in concentration your walls start pulsing and squeezing around his cock.
“Not… yet.” He grunts. “Not ‘til I say.”
He pushes down on your wrists and it feels like all the air is being knocked from your lungs with every roll of his hips.
“Fuck, you’re such a… pretty… little… hostage,” he groans through gritted teeth, each thrust punctuated by his praise.
“Yes…” you whine because it’s all you can manage to say. It’s all you can think. That one singular confirmation repeating over and over again in your head - it’s all you want to be for him. Fuck, you’d happily spend the rest of your life locked in his apartment, letting him use you like this every time he came home after a night of murdering criminals.
Your eyes roll back in your head, fireworks rocketing and exploding into a million bright pieces. If there’s a heaven, it would look like this - a beaten-up leather couch in a shitty apartment in downtown Evergreen.
His other hand that’s free of his glove and not pinning you down reaches round and starts working your clit with rough, calloused fingertips. You squeeze your eyes shut, not realising they’ve been watering. Real tears leak from the corners, leaving your face a wet mess on the leather seat. You choke out a sob, not sure how much longer you can fight against your orgasm.
“Shh, shhh… it’s okay, baby. You can cum. Let it all out for me.”
And you do.
Everything goes dark and you’re lost in the pleasure that takes over your body, your climax wiping your mind blank of all thoughts except Vigilante. Your pussy clamps down hard like a vice around his cock as you squirm on his fingers. It’s only when you feel him shudder and collapse on top of you that you realise he’s come undone too.
You both lie there for a second, feeling the warmth of your combined mess leaking out and the sound of him panting, exhausted.
“Vigilante…” you say in a strained voice, breaking the silence.
“Yeah?” he exhales and takes another gulp of air.
“You’re crushing me.”
“Oh.” He hoists himself off of you. “Let me get you a towel.”
With difficulty, you sit back upright to wipe your eyes and fix your hair. Vigilante returns with a towel and you sit on it, grateful for the barrier between you and the wet, sticky couch cushion.
He throws himself back down beside you. “Whoo, I’m beat!” he says cheerfully. “What do you wanna do now?”
You look at him uncertainly and glance at your watch. “It’s one in the morning.”
“Right, cool. Do you wanna sleep on the couch or-”
‘I’m a Barbie girl, in the Barbie world. Life in plastic, it’s fantastic’
Who’s phoning you this late?
He picks up both of your phones from the coffee table. “It’s mine,” he says and accepts the call. “Hello?”
Wait - his ringtone is Barbie Girl too?
“It’s me,” says the same voice of the woman who called him earlier. “Have you dealt with the hostage yet?”
Vigilante looks at you and hesitates. He swallows. “Yeah. It’s done.”
“So she accepted the bribe? You’ve got the laptop?”
His eyes widen. “The bribe? Oh! Yeah, sure! The bribe...”
“Vij, you didn’t kill her, did you?”
“What?” He lets out a maniacal laugh. “You’re crazy, Harcourt, of course I didn’t kill her. What’s the, uh, budget again?” He winks at you and makes an ‘ok’ sign with his thumb and forefinger. He’s insane, you think.
“I dunno, like five grand?”
“Phew! Then yes, it is all dealt with. Done and dusted. I will get that laptop.”
“You don’t have the laptop yet!? Vigilante, you need to get the laptop before you hand over the money, idiot.”
“Copy that,” he grins.
“Vigilante, what the f-”
He hangs up, cutting her off and tosses his phone aside.
“Good news. I can let you go once you give me the laptop.”
“And the five grand?” You raise your eyebrows.
“Wait, you heard that?!”
“Uh, yeah?”
“Well not until you give me the laptop.”
“I can get it tonight if you need it? We just need to swing by my boss’s house before you drop me off.”
He frowns. “Oh. Right. Yeah, of course. I need to… need to take you home.”
You tilt your head to one side and look at him fondly. You fix his messy curls and he closes his eyes at your touch. “Or… I could stay here tonight? Pick up the laptop tomorrow morning once you’ve fixed me some breakfast?”
He perks up. “I could do that! …You’re one hundred per cent sure you can get it though, right?”
You sigh and extend your hand. “Give me my phone.” He does and watches you go through your contacts.
The line rings and a familiar but slightly croaky voice answers.
“Honey, it’s one in the morning. Is everything alright? Did you get home okay?”
“Hey Mom, I’m fine. Listen, I think I forgot to send an email before I left the office and I can’t sleep worrying about it. Can I pick up your laptop first thing tomorrow?”
She yawns. “Sure thing. Don’t get stressed about it. Just go get some sleep.”
“Thanks, boss. I love you.”
“Goodnight sweetie. I love you too.”
You grin as Vigilante gapes at you.
“Goff’s assistant… she’s your-?”
“Yup. Now c’mon, show me where your bedroom is.” You stand up and reach your hands out, waiting for him to guide you. You step on one of your shirt buttons as he leads you towards the hallway. “You owe me a new shirt, by the way.”
“I just made you five grand. Use that to buy a new shirt,” he says, opening the bedroom door.
“Hey, what happened to the hostage negotiation? These are the terms of my release.”
“Oh, you’re not going anywhere,” he smirks, shutting the door behind you.
#vigilante x reader#vigilante#adrian chase x reader#vigilante peacemaker#adrian chase#vigilante x you#freddie stroma#fanfic#peacemaker#vigilante x female reader#adrian chase x female reader#adrian chase x you#adrian chase imagines#adrian chase x y/n
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What is the Greatest Team in Motorsports?
So last weekend, Team Penske swept the three-wide front row for the 2024 Indianapolis 500, marking only the second time that a team has locked out the front row. The first time? Penske in 1988. Oh, and just to add a cherry on top of that, Penske won the NASCAR All-Star race at North Wilkesboro with Joey Logano.
This comes on the heels of Penske winning the 2021 Daytona 500 with Austin Cindric, the 2022 Indycar championship with Will Power, the 2022 NASCAR championship with Joey Logano, the 2023 Indianapolis 500 with Josef Newgarden, the 2023 NASCAR championship with Ryan Blaney, and the 2024 24 Hours of Daytona with Dane Cameron, Matt Campbell, Felipe Nasr, and Josef Newgarden. Yeah...they're on a run and a half, aren't they?
Beyond that, Penske has been everywhere and done everything.
Formula One? Won the 1976 Austrian Grand Prix with John Watson.
Sports Cars? Well in addition to the aforementioned Daytona 24 win, their Porsche-Penske RS Spyder dominated LMP2 racing in the 2000s - you know how everyone talks about how dominant the Diesel Audi LMP1s of the 2000s were? Well at the 2008 12 Hours of Sebring, the Porsche-Penske RS Spyder LMP2 beat the Audi R10 TDI LMP1. Penske won, a privateer RS Spyder finished second, and the Audi had to settle for third. Damn.
That's not even to mention how the Penske Porsche 917-30 with its 5.4L Twin Turbo Flat-12 was so dominant in 1973 that it killed Can Am.
Three Daytona 500s, nineteen Indianapolis 500s, four NASCAR championships plus two in the Xfinity series, seventeen Indycar championships across USAC, CART, and Indycar, and a grand total of over 500 race wins makes for a pretty compelling case.
Pretty much the only major feather messing in Roger Penske's cap is the 24 Hours of Le Mans, and, well, the Penske-Porsche partnership is at it again. The #6 Penske Porsche driven by Kevin Estre, Andre Lotterer, and Laurens Vanthoor has gone first-second-second in the first three WEC races of the season. That kind of form, plus some of the historic context I established for the Porsche-Penske partnership...are you really going to write them off ahead of Le Mans this year?
So yeah, Penske is a powerhouse of a team and they've been everywhere.
Including Australian Supercars of all things. Scott McLaughlin in the DJR Team Penske Ford took forty-eight wins across four years and won three championships in a row from 2018 to 2020, including the 2019 Bathurst 1000. He then went on to race in Indycar, has taken five wins so far, and just set a 233.220 four-lap average to take that pole position for the Indy 500.
Running the same classic Pennzoil yellow submarine livery as Rick Mears did in 1988. In the race itself, he'll wear a retro red and yellow suit of overalls modeled on the ones that Rick Mears wore in the 80s. If the stars align and Scott repeats what Rick did in 1988 and wins the Indy 500, then he'll have done something truly remarkable. He'll have cut his teeth in Australian supercars and come out of it one of the best Indycar drivers of the modern era.
Of course, his teammates will challenge him.
Will Power, who has more poles in Indycar than anyone else in history.
Josef Newgarden who won last year and has turned into a dominant force on ovals in Indycar.
Not to mention thirty other cars that want to wipe the smile off of Team Penske's face.
There is a lot of talk about Kyle Larson doing the double this year, racing the Indy 500 for Arrow McLaren and then racing the Coke 600 in Charlotte for Hendrick Motorsports, and he'll start fifth. That legitimately gives him one of the best chances of anyone to attempt the double. That being said, last year...Team Penske did the double as a team.
Josef Newgarden won the Indy 500, then Ryan Blaney won the Coke 600. Both of them went into the crowds to celebrate. If Kyle Larson wants to win the double, he'll be up against the mammoth that is Team Penske. Perhaps one of the greatest teams in all of motorsports, and they'll be facing him in both Indianapolis and Charlotte.
Let the games begin.
Sunday, May 26th, 2024 is going to be Motorsports Christmas. The Catalan Motorcycle Grand Prix, the Monaco Grand Prix, the Indianapolis 500, and the Coke 600. Two triple crown events, one of NASCAR's crown jewel, and the home race for about half of the MotoGP field, all in one day.
It's going to be a damn good day.
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Wow, I can get sexual too: An Adrian Chase x reader fic- Chapter 2
series masterlist here
warnings: eventual smut, masturbation, twitter nude culture, the very slightest dub con but not really just saying this to be safe, mutual pining, idiots in love, perv!reader but also perv!adrian
Holy shit, what have I gotten myself into?
You pick at your nails, looking at the chips in the clear coat as they shine under the street lamps you pass. Adrian chats excitedly, which you should have expected.
“I mean, did you expect them to go that way?” he exclaims, taking his eyes off the road to eagerly await your answer.
“I’m sorry, I spaced out,” you excuse yourself, “What didn't you expect?”
“The gang war angle for season four, duh! And the fact that we see a few generations of it. What do you think?”
He pauses and you open your mouth to answer, only to have him interrupt your thoughts and keep talking.
“Are you okay? You’ve been doing that a lot lately. Look, if you’re going to be distracted like this in the field I think maybe my favorite coworker should take a break. I mean, I could end up having to save your ass like a damsel in distress and then you might develop a silly crush on me or something. How crazy would that be? Think about that!”
Yeah, crazy, you think, like I don't already think about that.
“I’m fine… just haven't been sleeping well lately,” you offer weakly, “I like that this is set in the fifties, it gives us another slice of history to dissect.”
“History?” he laughs heartily, “You nerd.”
But under the lamp lights you see him smile with nothing but genuine mirth as he turns into the parking lot of his apartment complex.
You let yourself laugh with him and you relax as much as you can until he pulls the car in park, his parkjob extremely hasty and sloppy but still within the lines.
“How long do we have until the episode starts?” you ask.
“About seven minutes and forty five seconds, but I’m not actively counting.”
Sure, you think, clicking the seatbelt and pulling yourself upwards.
Its exactly now that you realize you should have changed into sweatpants instead of the shorts you were planning on wearing to bed.
The second you try to stand and exit the Sebring you feel the shorts ride up, giving Adrian a full view of the backs of your thighs and maybe even a little bit of your ass. At least, maybe you should have put on some underwear.. Well shit, this really isn’t how you expected tonight to go. Well shit, this really isn’t how you expected tonight to go. The much too cool wind hits your bare legs when you fully get out onto the sidewalk in front of his building.
“After you,” he gestures to the staircase up to his door as you watch him cram his mask into his backpack. God, it’s really a wonder he hasn’t been caught. It didn’t take him long to crack and tell you his identity and you can’t imagine what his neighbors see. Hell, he’s barely hiding it now and it's not even late at night.
You begin to ascend the stairs, knowing exactly the vantage point Adrian is getting as he starts up the steps behind you. You know exactly the up shorts image he's getting, exactly how much of an eyeful he can see of your thighs and ass, honestly maybe even more because your shorts are an extra comfy size bigger than your usual. Fuck, you could let the nerves take over. Or…. or you could make the most of this.
You slow down, not in any crazy noticeable way, just enough to give your hips a little extra sway and to keep Adrian there for a little longer. Perhaps this can be a little payback for how wound-up Adrian had you before this, how you were practically desperate over his tweet of thinking about a certain coworker. If it was truly about you and not that new hostess at Fennel Fields, you could tease him a little. You take your time up the stairs, flimsy and wooden to the third and top floor of the building, really focusing and feeling each step with your legs and making a point. If Adrian is getting impatient with your pace, he doesn't make any motion to correct it. He stays at his same pace behind you, a few steps behind patiently walking up behind you.
You deflate, almost, as the top of the stairs finally comes into view and your gait levels out with his.
“Showtime?” you ask, a coy smile on your lips. The look on his face is… hard to read. He looks a little flustered, but at the same time excited; a light blush on his cheeks as his chest heaves. It's probably just the new episode of Fargo. Adrian lives and dies for this shit. Fargo is your favorite show too, but not in the way Adrian loves it.
“No, its on FX,” he deadpans, but the smile lets you know he's in on the joke. Adrian fumbles with the keys for a moment before finally getting the right key in the lock and turning. He opens the door for you, gesturing for you to step over the threshold of his one-bedroom before him.
Holy shit, you've died and gone to horny heaven. Or horny hell. You can't decide.
You know that you knew the layout of Adrian’s apartment, but you find yourself completely blindsided when you catch your own reflection next to Adrian’s in the floor length mirror as soon as he holds open the door. You didnt expect that fucking mirror to be staring you in the face.
You catch Adrian’s eyes in the mirror a few seconds after you step further into the room, his wide smile faltering at your expression. For someone who says he doesn't understand others emotions, hes a perceptive motherfucker.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Adrian asks again.
“Y-yeah, yeah I’m fine.”
“I mean, you're really pretty when you're zoned out like that but you look like you've seen a ghost, and not in a good way.”
You feel your face heat up at that comment and you're sure you look like a deer caught in the headlights. You shake off whatever that could possibly mean and move to the couch, grabbing a navy blue throw blanket from the arm rest and pulling it over yourself as you sit and wiggle out of your shoes before situating yourself on the cushion..
“I’m fine. Get over here and turn on the tv, I think we're running out of time.”
You reassure him for what you can only assume won't be your last time tonight, still feeling a bit too on edge and warm in his presence to be comfortable.
Adrian kicks his shoes off, boots barely unlaced as he lets them bounce against the wall next to the front door. His eyes trail from the floor where your foot peeks out from under
“We have two minutes!” Adrian exclaims, plopping himself down on the cushion next to yours and clicking on the flatscreen. Sure enough, his television is already turned to the right channel, and you have to assume this is a routine for him. You can picture him coming home from patrols, watching Fargo, and then standing in front of that mirror and… shit. Tonight is going to be harder than you thought.
Adrian shudders next to you as he settles in.
“You cold?” you ask, barely tearing your eyes away from the screen, afraid to lose your cool now that your mind if fully back to being fixated on the most recent video he posted. Hell, the ottoman right next to your foot is the one his leg was propped up on while he touched himself and you touched yourself in tandem to. Its even in the same spot it had to have been in that video, judging on the angle…
“My nipples are hard,” he admits, “Can I get some blanket? I can get my own from my room if thats not okay. Chris said I make women uncomfortable, but you’re my favorite teammate so I feel like-”
You interrupt him by throwing the extra length of the blanket over him and shifting over slightly so you can get equal shares of the fabric.
“You don't make me uncomfortable, Adrian.”
At least, not more uncomfortable than you are right now, your shorts feeling dangerously short and your body feeling a little too hot despite wanting to hide under the blanket. He accepts your answer and settles in, hand accidentally brushing your bare thigh.
Fuck.
You hope he doesn't pick up on the little gasp that escapes your lips, distracted by the episode finally starting. You settle into the noise, the Italian mob discussing the turf war as the nurse tries to hide her indiscretions.
“Are you looking for a vantage point? Is that why you keep looking at that mirror?” he asks during the first commercial break. You nod, making eye contact with him again through the mirror. You hadn't even realized your eyes had drifted over that way again.
“Yeah, been doing that a lot lately. I didn't bring anything,” you don't need to finish the sentence for Adrian to know you're not armed.
Adrian just laughs.
“Don’t worry about it, Cowgirl,” he reassures you, “I’ve got you protected.”
You narrow your eyes at him in the light from the screen.
“Cowgirl?” you echo.
“Yeah, I figure that's the opposite of the mermaid emoji, and you and I are kind of opposites. Not that I am the mermaid, but it is my Emoji. But like, it totally works for us! That's my Emoji for you in my phone.”
That's a lot of information to take in.
“So I’m the cowgirl?” You repeat again, for confirmation.
“Well, maybe not the cowgirl, but definitely mine.”
Well shit, if you didn't already have a crush on him, that corny crap would have definitely sealed the deal for you. You settle back in, tearing your eyes away from him and forcing them away from the mirror to focus on the episode. With only two left in the season, things are getting really fucking good.
The rest of the episode goes by relatively easily, and you can settle in and focus, even leaning slightly against Adrian’s shoulder as you get tired by the end of it. It had been a long day, with your own patrols on Emilia’s orders having started at five in the morning.
He offers to drive you home after your third yawn, which prompted his first one. You gladly accept, because honestly, you don't think you could handle crashing here on the couch.
On the drive home, you recap the episode, talking about where you think the end of the season will go and your favorite parts.
“I don't know, I almost want the nurse to get away with it and run away with the Don,” you say wistfully, leaning on the center console towards him. Normally, you wouldn't be this bold, but you feel comfortable and too sleepy in this moment to care about how he might interpret these actions, now having been up for almost twenty hours straight.
“But they're criminals!” Adrian argues, taking his eyes off the road to look at you incredulously.
“Adrian, the show is about crime. Your favorite show is about crime.”
You roll your eyes at his outburst, so endeared to his strict code that most of the team found mental. Sure, maybe some of his methods were a bit extreme, but you get it to some degree. The laws that made sense had to be upheld, but the ones that were immoral could and should be broken.
“Yeah, you're right,” he says, rolling his eyes.
The rest of the ride goes all too quickly, and you feel cold as the car comes to a stop.
“Text me when you're in your bed all safe okay?”
Goddammnit why did he have to phrase it like that?
“Yeah,” you nod, grabbing the door handle, “yeah, will do”
You wish him goodbye one more time, shooting a smile his way and then waving again when you've finally closed the car door, and make the walk up your sidewalk to the door of your condo.
It takes you no time at all to get back inside and practically race up the stairs to collapse into your duvet.
My Number: Doors locked. Thanks for tonight, episode was great.
Adrian: Of course my little 🤠
My Number: Lol, Text when you’re home safe. Night 🧜♂️
If the little cowboy hat emoji was going to be yours, then you could assign the merman to him officially. Without thinking, you throw your phone on the pillow next to yours and drift off to sleep.
You wake up to a text from Adrian around the time he got home,
Adrian: Home safe 🤠! Same time next week?
You feel slightly bad about falling asleep before you could get this text, but you shoot him a response that yes, definitely next week after his patrols would work. You see another notification after that, this one a twitter notification. Oh, holy shit.
@mattvtweets: Wanna be my little cowgirl? Ride me.
You don't even bother looking at the close to fifteen replies, instead focusing on Adrian in the video.
From the vantage point of the camera, you can tell he’s sprawled out on the couch, one leg bent at the knee and propped up on the cushion, and the other hanging off the edge and on the ground. On closer look, his foot is actually dug into the blanket you were previously wrapped up in with him.
Holy fuck, you think.
He’s furiously stroking his shaft, fist wrapped tightly around it as he works himself over. This video is so much different than the others, so much more desperate and hasty. Adrian doesn't care about framing or angles in this video. It looks so rushed.
Even the very slight voice modulator Adrian uses feels sloppy in this video. You can hear his actual voice pushing through, hear his moans the way they were meant to be heard. God, it feels like this video is just for you.
But how could it not be? Cowgirl? Did he not just call you his little cowgirl when you got in bed safe?
Fuck, maybe his other tweet was about you too. It had to be, no? Certain coworker, and now little cowgirl? Take that, new hostess at Fennel Fields, you bitch!
Okay, immediately you feel guilty for that thought, you're sure she's a nice girl, but it's not her that has his attention.
You watch the video twice before even thinking about pulling down your shorts, wanting to be absolutely sure of what you were seeing and hearing. It's you he wants, it's you he's making this video about.
Working yourself up is easy, listening to him moan and groan as he fucks his fist in the same spot you were practically cuddling with him last night. Your fingers slide into yourself with ease, already worked up with all of the Adrian in your past 24 hours. He really doesn't understand how sexy he is, anonymous or not. Even without the twitter he has you worked up with his proximity and quirkiness. He knew exactly how to get you going, clothed or not.
It's only moments of timing your fingers with his motions that you're on the edge, not quite finishing but not quite hanging on either.
He swipes his thumb across the head of his cock in the video, and lets out a loud groan. Fuck, how is he so hot? You grind the heel of your palm into your clit and a shudder shoots up your spine, your back arching off of the bed.
Fuck this.
You close out the video, nevermind how hot it is, and start to compose a text one handed, your other hand drifting upwards until your wet fingers reach your clit and start moving.
Your number: Sounds good, mind if I pack an overnight bag so you don't have to drive late?
Risky, but a risk you're wiling to take.
He texts back before you can even think about thrusting your fingers back into yourself.
Adrian: Please do! Late driving could lead to a number of motor vehicle violations. Looking forward to our Fargo sleepover, my little 🤠
You come almost instantly. Body tensing up as you ride your high and rumple your duvet even further than it already was.
And then the realization sets in that you have to see him in less than three hours.
Fuck.
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the song second & sebring by of mice and men is so law and cora coded and no im not explaining bc i WILL start crying
#like the song is about austins mom and how much she loved him and how much he loved her#she had passed away when he was younger and he sings about how much he misses her and still needs her sometimes#and thats how law be about cora frfr#and now im crying#one piece#trafalgar d water law#trafalgar d law#trafalgar law#donquixote rosinante#donquixote corazon#rosinante corazon#corazon
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peter revson and steve mcqueen celebrate their second place finish in the 1970 12 hours of sebring
#f1#classic f1#other motorsport#peter revson#steve mcqueen#what if i went insane over these images real quick
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The 2019 IMSA 12 Hours of Sebring starts in a deluge as the Chip Ganassi Racing N°66 Ford GT steers through the rivulets plaguing this former airfield towards a second place GTLM Podium.
#ford gt le mans#12 hours of sebring#chip ganassi racing#sebring raceway#imsa#gtlm#ford gt#2019 sebring12#rainy racing
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Jason Peter Todd - a character-centric fanmix
posting that Dune playlist got me looking into my Spotify history and realising that I've got so many mixtapes locked and loaded in the chamber 😂 this one has been out for a hot minute now. if you followed me for my Jason Todd-posting, you're in luck today!
► TRACKS
Growing Pains III - Logic // Second & Sebring - Of Mice & Men // Styrofoam Plates - Death Cab For Cutie // Echo - Kevin Abstract // Bust Your Knee Caps - Pomplamoose // Pain Everyday - clipping. // Brutus - Emma Blackery // King of the Damned - Palaye Royale // I Like The Way You Die - Black Honey // The Lighthouse - Halsey // The Kids Don't Wanna Come Home - Declan McKenna // The Villain I Appear to Be - Connor Spiotto // Daddy Issues - The Neighbourhood // Independent Horror Film - Corporate Hearts // I Want To Be Well - Sufjan Stevens // You First - Paramore
#jason todd#robin ii#red hood#dc fanmix#fanmix#stvlti makes stuff#stvlti's mixes#queueller notebook#Spotify
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TVR T440R (1 of 1)
A true homologation special, this TVR T440R is the only one of its kind ever produced. Made to homologate an endurance race car in 2003, the car was only recently recommissioned and is up for sale.The story of the TVR T440R starts with the T400R (aka the Typhon) race cars that were built to compete in endurance racing at Spa, Sebring, in British GT, and, of course, Le Mans. In order to obtain FIA homologation, TVR had to build four road cars.The British company chose to build three Typhons and this, the T440R. The Typhons were initially supposed to feature a supercharged 4.0-liter straight-six but were instead finished with a naturally aspirated 4.0-liter engine.
The T440R, meanwhile, was fitted with a naturally aspirated, 4.2-liter straight-six that incorporated a gas-flowed cylinder head, a steel crankshaft and conrods, as well as a carbon fiber airbox with six upper injectors and bespoke exhaust headers. For road use, the engine makes 440 hp (446 PS/328 kW), down from the supercharged race car’s 585 hp (593 PS/436 kW).
The underfloor is flat for better aerodynamics and is made of resin-sandwiched aluminum honeycomb. A separate carbon-fiber tub is bonded to the chassis and the carbon fiber bodywork is bonded to the tub and the floor.
Thanks to its power and lightweight construction, the car will hit 62 mph (100 km/h) in just four seconds and can go all the way up to 200 mph (320 km/h). Quite impressive numbers for 2003, and still more than respectable today.
Inside, the T440R has four seats and plenty of exposed carbon fiber, as well as Willans racing harnesses. The seats are trimmed in red and black leather and the Alcantara headliner is a surprisingly modern touch.
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On This Day in F1: March 1st
Present: Bahrain Day 2
History: 1992 Giovanna Amati Attempts to Qualify for the South African GP
On March 1st, Bahrain hosted free practice 3 and qualifying.
We begin the season almost exactly where we left off with the top 3 finishers of the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix qualifying for the top 3 in Bahrain — Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, and George Russell
The provisional starting grid is:
March 1st also marks the beginning of Women’s History Month so we go back to 1992 when Italian driver, Giovanna Amati, made the first of her three attempts to qualify for a Formula 1 World Championship race.
Though unsuccessful in qualifying , Amati is the most recent woman to enter an F1 race. She is also the fifth woman to do so.
The 1992 South African Grand Prix was the first race in South Africa following the end of Apartheid and the opener for the season.
Amati made her Formula 1 debut at the race with the Brabham team. She was the first female F1 driver since South African Desiré Wilson entered the 1980 British Grand Prix with Brands Hatch Racing.
Amati was one of five drivers to not qualify for the South African Grand Prix. Of the 30 entrants, Amati was last on the timing sheets and almost 9 seconds behind Nigel Mansell, who got pole position for the race.
Giovanna Amati’s Formula 1 career lasted for two more races after the South African before she was replaced by the team’s test driver, Damon Hill. Damon Hill only qualified for two races during the season and it was widely considered a bad year for the Brabham team.
On her time with Brabham, Amati said:
“I had all the interest on me because I was the only woman in the championship but with that car I couldn’t perform. Brabham at that time had a lack of sponsors and a lack of budget. My engine was leaking oil, water, everything, and when I asked to change it there were no spare parts. So it was difficult, and all the other cars were performing much better than ours. I couldn’t qualify with that car and the problem was that they didn’t give me another chance afterwards.”
Her motorsport career did not end with Formula 1. Amati entered the Porsche SuperCup in 1993 and won the Women’s European Championship. She’s participated in the Ferrari Challenge, 12 Hours of Sebring, and the SportsRacing World Cup.
——
Previous: Feb. 29th — 1932 Masten Gregory is Born
Next: Mar. 2nd — Bahrain Grand Prix
On This Day in F1 Masterlist
The Bahrain Grand Prix is on the 2nd, but so is Qatar 1812 km for WEC. It starts at 2:30am for the US east coast and has a 10 hour time limit. It’s available on Max in the US if you have the live sports subscription. The broadcast information can be found here if anyone wants to see where they can watch: Qatar 1812 km.
The Iron Dames are participating.
#on this day in f1#formula 1#f1#max verstappen#charles leclerc#george russell#f1 history#Giovanna Amati#bahrain grand prix#women in f1#women in motorsport
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On Her Majesty’s Supersonic Service (Adrian Chase x Reader) Ch. 4
Chapter 4 No Time to Cry
Rating: Explicit - 18+ only
Word Count: 9.9K
Warnings: SMUT (less than usual tho), Plot with a little bit of porn, Mostly fluff, Moving the plot along, Romance, Descriptions of murder, Descriptions of violence, Descriptions of injury, P in V, Praise, Hurt/Comfort
Summary: It’s time to kill the cow. Adebayo reveals two secrets. Adrian is being Adrian and having the best time mass-murdering butterflies.
A/N: IT'S EARLY!! This is mostly plot and I am obsessed with tying things into canon. There’s some pretty graphic injury description and some totally made-up medical bullshit that I hope you can get past. Thanks so much to @stealsteels for your encouragement to get me over the finish line.
Tagging because I think you might like it: @ladymacbeth1987 , @likeficsinthewnd
Masterlist
Chapter text:
The van is gone from the motel car park, and all signs of Peacemaker and Economos have gone with it.
“Go with the others. I’ll find Peacemaker.”
The sun still hasn’t risen but the orange glow of the streetlights is bright enough for Adrian to see you chewing your lip worriedly in the passenger seat of his car.
“Unless we hear different, stick to the plan. We’ll meet at the ranch.” His earnest green eyes meet yours. “I promise.”
You breathe deeply to calm your nerves. Usually, you’re exhilarated before a mission- ready to fight. But that was before you had something to lose.
“C’mon, it’ll be great! We’ll kill the cow, dish out the same ass-kicking as usual, and drive off into the sunset.”
You’re unconvinced.
“Like Thelma and Louise!”
Now you’re even less convinced. You pull out your phone and text him.
Blackbird: You know they kill themselves at the end of that movie, right? xx
His phone pings, and he reads your message. “What? No way!”
Blackbird: There’s a freeze frame as they drive their car into the Grand Canyon xx
“I don’t think so. I think their car took off and started flying away like at the end of Grease.”
You raise your eyebrows but don’t argue any further. Instead, you study every detail of his profile hungrily as he enthusiastically tells you how the movie’s ending can be perceived differently. His curly hair, still a little messy from spending the night in the sleeping bag, the dimples at the corners of his mouth when he smiles, the way he adjusts his wire rimmed glasses- you try to memorise it all.
You lean over to kiss him goodbye. You grip the chest plate of his suit, pulling him closer to you. You try and put a lot of meaning into the kiss- words left unspoken that you probably wouldn’t have the emotional capacity to vocalise even if you physically could. An assurance that you’ll meet later. A promise that you’ll both live long enough to see tomorrow.
You pull back before he does, preemptively avoiding the possibility of getting lost in the kiss. His face is lit up with excitement.
“We’re saving the world- it’s gonna be fun! Well, for me. I know this is, like, your day job.”
He points at a billboard across the street displaying an array of supercars- Evergreen Exotic Car Rentals. “And then that’ll be you and me tomorrow, cruising down the highway in a Corvette.”
You give him what you hope is an optimistic smile- even though your insides are squirming. Then, you climb out of his car and walk quickly towards your motel without looking back so you don’t have to watch his Sebring drive off into the dawn.
As you pass Adebayo’s room, you can distinctly hear the sound of her and Harcourt in a heated argument. Just what we need at 5 am on the day of the mission.
You knock on the door.
“Who is it?” comes Harcourt’s aggressive bark.
Slowly, you open the door and peer around the corner. Harcourt and Adebayo look relieved at your familiar face for a split second before turning on each other again.
“You were gonna lone-shooter the poor bastard?” Harcourt demands.
“He has a history of instability and conspiratorial beliefs. Couple that with violent outbursts- he was the best choice of the two options.”
Your eyes dart between the two of them. What the fuck is going on?
Harcourt sees your confusion. “Adebayo did it. She planted the diary in Peacemaker’s trailer.”
Adebayo?
“That’s why Peacemaker was chosen in the first place,” says Adebayo by way of explanation.
“And that’s it?” asks Harcourt. “Cut the shit and tell her who else was chosen expressly for this mission.”
No. Your stomach drops. Adrian was just a tag-along- he wasn’t even meant to be part of this team.
Adebayo tosses a book in your direction which you catch mid-air.
A black, leather-bound notebook with the UK Government coat of arms embossed on the front in silver.
Not Adrian.
Hands trembling, you open it up. There’s your name written on the inside cover in your handwriting.
You flick through, eyes skimming over pages upon pages of diary entries. Conspiracies about a secret society of aliens in America controlling Her Majesty’s Secret Service and how you’re going to eradicate them yourself. Paragraphs about how you’re not in control of your powers. All easily corroborated with dates and times of places you’ve been, emails you’ve sent and texts to your boss.
Your eyes sting as you read how they’ve described your loneliness since your accident. Some of it they got right. How much you hate having powers (even if they are useful), how you wish you could talk again and how, more than anything, all you want is someone to confide in. It seals the narrative of a very unwell, isolated woman who’d be desperate enough to commit mass murder.
They really did do the thing properly. You had always assumed MI6 had access to your messages, but you honestly have to applaud the handwriting expert- it’s uncanny.
But… Adebayo? You swallow the lump in your throat and look at her pleadingly. Tell me it isn’t true.
She shakes her head.
“You were the preferred choice. Win-win for MI6 and A.R.G.U.S. MI6 lets you take the blame for the murders; they stage an inquest into the actions of a single employee and get off lightly. Nobody needs to find out how close we came to being invaded by the butterflies. And in return, they get rid of a renegade agent.”
Get rid of? Wait… renegade? You look up and try to catch her eye. What does she mean by that?
“Waller, on the other hand…” Adebayo continues to look away uncomfortably. “Waller keeps A.R.G.U.S out of it completely and gets herself a new member of the Suicide Squad.”
This was never a mission to win the favour of MI6 again. You were their scapegoat. And to Amanda Waller - a new weapon.
You lower yourself onto Adebayo’s sofa in shock.
“They were your fucking friends.” Harcourt’s tone is the coldest you’ve ever heard her. “How did you choose? How could you possibly manage to choose which soldier to sell to Waller?”
“It wasn’t a choice- it could only be Peacemaker because Blackbird’s story didn’t make any fucking sense anymore!”
Adebayo looks between you, like it’s obvious.
“Everyone’s seen the way she’s been skipping around with Vigilante. Everyone in this team has seen you guys literallyscrewing around. The texts don’t match the diary anymore.” She looks at you sadly. “Before you met Vigilante, the last message you sent that wasn’t about work was over a month ago. And it was your fucking landlord!”
Before you can hide it, a single tear runs down your cheek as you stare at her in disbelief.
Of course. Now your messages are filled with flirting and two little x’s. And there’s fun and laughter in the 11th Street Kids group chat. No evidence that would hold up at an inquest.
Adrian… Adrian inadvertently stopped you from being thrown into jail with a nano bomb implanted in the base of your neck. And Harcourt made it all possible by adding you to that group.
Air. You need to leave.
You gesture to Harcourt, excusing yourself. Then, you open the door and are face-to-face with Murn.
“Guess what? Adebayo planted Peacemaker’s diary and had another ready for Blackbird to take the fall,” Harcourt calls over your shoulder.
“Only because my mother made me!”
What the…?
“Holy fuck! Your mother is Amanda Waller?”
“Yes, I figured her mother had her do it,” says Murn.
You give Murn a curt nod and blow past him, not waiting to hear the rest of the conversation. You can’t process this right now. You need to call your boss and have her tell you straight.
Your boss.
As you descend the motel stairs, it dawns on you that she hasn’t messaged you once since you landed in Washington. She doesn’t want the paper trail to show she knows you’re here.
What a cunt.
You let out a small groan of frustration, setting off a car alarm. You head around the back of the motel and video-call her. It rings out.
Blackbird: You were going to Suicide Squad me?!
The message is marked as read. She doesn’t respond.
Blackbird: Fuck you.
You grip your phone and consider throwing it against the wall but then-
BANG. BANG. BANG.
The unmistakable sound of gunshots coming from the motel startles you.
You pull your gun out and tiptoe back around the corner. Police cars- three of them. Silently you watch as half a dozen butterflies in police officers’ bodies exit Adebayo’s room.
Not good.
Your finger hovers over the trigger. You’re reasonably confident you could take them all on your own… but you heard three gunshots - you have no idea if Murn, Adebayo and Harcourt are even alive. As far as you know, you could be the last one left to take down the cow.
Then you see her. Detective Song. The queen who used to be Goff. The one who brutally tortured Adrian. Blinding rage vibrates through your very being as you leap out from your hiding spot and scream at the top of your lungs.
A sonic shockwave is sent across the car park- several butterflies are sent flying backwards. Song manages to sprint out of reach and yells for the others to cover her.
“You tried to cut off my boyfriend’s toe, you bitch!”
You’re going to torture her, you decide. And you’re going to enjoy it.
The shockwave sends debris flying across the car park, and you hear the sound of the windows on the ground floor of the motel shattering. The fear in Song’s eyes as she watches you walking towards them spurs you on. The atmosphere above shifts as you breathe in and let out another ear-splitting scream.
The heads of the three nearest butterflies explode into bloody pulps. Parked cars are blasted into the air and come down violently onto the concrete, narrowly missing the remaining butterflies.
Song turns and runs for her life. You’re quick on her heels but are thwarted when you need to duck and cover behind an overturned car as her associates start firing at you. The three of them run towards a police car in the distance, shooting over their shoulders.
Fuck.
You jump out from behind the car and chase after them, as fast as possible. But it’s too late. The engine of the police car starts, and rubber squeals on the road as they speed off into the distance.
“Oh my god, my car...” says Adebayo.
“And mine...” echoes Harcourt sounding shell-shocked.
They’re alive. You whip round to face them. They don’t look good- Adebayo has a gash on her forehead, Harcourt’s nose is bloody, and her face is streaked with tears.
“We heard you screaming but our hands were tied with Judomaster. And Murn…” She chokes and blinks up at the sky. “Murn’s dead.”
Your hand flies to your mouth, and you point at the motel room. Judomaster killed Murn?
“It was Goff. I mean, Song,” says Adebayo.
Harcourt takes a moment to compose herself and straighten her jacket. “We need to find the others. None of them are answering their phones. But what are we gonna do?” She looks at the overturned cars. “Get some Uber driver to go around aimlessly looking for them?”
The three of you look around the parking lot despairingly until your eyes fall on a billboard in the distance.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The road stretches out ahead as the three of you speed your way towards Peacemaker’s trailer- the guys still aren’t picking up, but you’ve got to start looking somewhere.
Your phone is connected to the Corvette’s sound system and you blast Stop by the Spice Girls through the speakers. This is the best thing you’ve ever used your MI6 expenses account for.
The car’s roof is down, and the wind whips your hair as you weave in and out between other cars on the road.
“Slow down! Some of us don’t have a seatbelt back here!”
Adebayo sits in the back hatch behind the two front seats. You’re perfectly happy for her to be uncomfortable, considering she conspired to have you thrown in jail. Maybe fearing for her life will do her some good.
Harcourt grabs your phone. “I’m gonna call Vigilante. Maybe he won’t ignore your calls.”
The ringing stops your music and comes through the speakers.
“Birdie?” comes Adrian’s voice. He’s still alive.
“She’s driving. Why haven’t you been answering my calls, asshole?” says Harcourt.
“Did somebody tell her we drive on the right here?”
Harcourt looks at you in exasperation.
“I hope for your sake he’s better at fucking than using his last two brain cells,” mutters Adebayo.
“Why haven’t any of you been picking up your phones? And where the hell are you?”
“Well, we’ve been kind of busy murdering Peacemaker’s dad, and now we’re on the way to the vet with Eagly. We should- ow!” You hear him wince in pain, and you look at Harcourt in alarm.
“Are you guys okay?”
“Yeah, we just went over a speed bump.” Economos answers now. “Peacemaker is just going through some stuff with his dad, and Eagly’s injured. Vigilante was hit by a grenade-“
A what?! Harcourt notices your knuckles turning white as you grip the steering wheel.
“...Who threw the grenade?” Harcourt sighs pointedly.
There’s a pause at the other end.
“Vigilante-“
“It was intentional!” Adrian cuts across him. “And it was fucking badass- ow! Watch the speedbumps, Economos!”
“Listen, I’m dropping you the location of the vet. We’re almost there,” says Economos. Your phone pings and the satnav automatically updates.
“10-4,” says Harcourt, as you do a U-turn and speed off in the opposite direction.
“Y’know, we could have just got a four-seater like I suggested,” complains Adebayo when you arrive and open the back hatch. You begrudgingly help her climb out.
Harcourt marches ahead inside the vet,, and Adebayo seizes the opportunity to speak to you privately.
“Blackbird, I…” She chooses her words carefully. “I’m sorry. But I thought I was doing the right thing.”
You whip out your phone and start typing furiously. She watches your screen.
“Okay, okay! Stop with the expletives. And cut the bullshit! It’s fine if you want the others to think you’re the victim here, but I’ve read your file. I know what you’ve done.”
You raise your eyebrow, calling her bluff. Nobody knows. Not even MI6.
“You thought MI6 wouldn't find out that you were gonna double-cross them and sell that jet to a private buyer?”
You freeze. How…?
“And don’t even pretend you didn’t know who the buyer was.”
Now you’re perplexed. Clearly, Adebayo is too straight-laced to understand. So you shake your head and type a new message on your phone.
Blackbird: It’s always better not to know who the buyer is
She kisses her teeth in disapproval. “Wow… and I thought you worked in intelligence? Haven’t you figured out that the buyer was Goff? Who else would need something that big, fast and powerful? Something big enough to transport a giant cow?”
Bloody hell.
“You might be a traitor but lucky for us, you suck at stealing jets. The cow’s been stuck in that barn for over a year while they build their teleporter."
You’re not naive- you knew you weren’t selling a stolen jet to good guys. You thought terrorists or maybe the KGB or, like, Elon Musk. Not a race of aliens trying to take over planet Earth. She watches the regretful realisation dawn on your face.
“Look, B bird, a lot of what they said about you and Peacemaker in those files is true, and when I read them, I thought you both deserved to be in jail… but I think Peacemaker’s changed. And I think there’s a lot of good stuff about you they left out.”
She smiles at you tentatively.
“I actually believe you didn’t know you were stealing that jet for Goff. If we make it out alive, I promise I’ll make it right.”
Honestly, you don’t blame her- you’re sure that your file paints a grim picture. And to top it off, your previous actions would have fucked up the entire mission if you’d been successful.
You extend your hand to shake hers. Adebayo grips it and looks at you with mutual understanding.
“We good?”
You nod.
The sound of a fist pounding on glass makes you both whip around.
Adrian is banging on the window from inside the veterinarian’s office with a goofy grin on his face. He points at the car, and you smile and jingle the keys at him in response.
“Fuck yeah!” You see his lips moving from behind the glass. He turns back around, and you can see he’s pointing an assault rifle at something inside. Shit.
“Thank God you guys are here. Dr Hurwitz kindly stitched up Eagly, and Vigilante's being a total freak,” says Economos when you and Adebayo burst in.
Adrian is pointing a gun at three people in scrubs. There’s a streak of blood down his face, and his suit is badly damaged from the explosion. It gives him an entirely unhinged appearance.
“Dude, they saw us. Peacemaker and I are wanted.” Adrian turns to look at you. “Blackbird’s not wearing her mask, and MI6 will probably fire her if civilians see her.”
You rush over to Adrian and the vet staff and put a finger to your lips urgently. Stop talking!
“Well, now they know someone called Blackbird from MI6 was here,” Economos sighs.
“Oh, great! Thanks, Economos- now we definitely have to kill them,” says Adrian aiming his gun around you.
“Do we really have to kill these people?” pleads Economos.
Everyone looks at Harcourt. She groans.
“...No. We'll tie them up, and by the time the morning staff comes in, we'll be long gone.”
“They've seen our faces,” says Adrian, still aiming.
“If we can't stop the butterflies today, it won't matter,” she says with finality.
“Okay. But we can't use duct tape. That'll hurt their skin when they try to pull it off. Right Birdie?”
You touch your almost healed lip but then blush deeply when you realise everyone is staring at you. Thanks, Adrian.
“So, you're compassionate about tape but not brutally murdering people?” asks Economos
“...Yes.”
He lowers the gun and grins at you. God, as you come closer, you realise the full extent of his injuries from the grenade blast. Your eyes linger on his suit- the hard exterior chest plate is scratched pretty severely, and his suit has ripped in places, revealing burned bloody tissue across his abdomen and thighs.
You try to get a better look at the damage, but he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into a hug. He winces in pain. You try to pull back but he just hugs you tighter.
“Worth it,” he groans and kisses the top of your head.
You pat the countertop, gesturing for him to sit on it, and grab some cotton pads and antiseptic. When you dab the wet cotton pad on the burned skin on his abdomen, the muscles there twitch involuntarily.
He stifles a moan of pain and it makes you stop what you’re doing to look up at his face. This only causes you to blush again. What’s wrong with me? You bite your lip and try to concentrate on cleaning the debris from his cuts and burns.
“Hey,” he whispers so only you can hear him. “Are you turned on right now?”
You try to give him a defensive look but it falters when you see the longing in his eyes behind his wire-rimmed glasses.
We need to make sure you're okay first. You tilt your head sympathetically. His wounds will probably need further attention later so this’ll have to do for now.
When you’re done, you hop up on the counter beside him and type on your phone, letting him read over your shoulder.
Blackbird: It WAS kind of romantic that you were gonna kill those vets for me xx
“Romantic?...Really? You’re more twisted than I thought.” His gloved hand tucks your hair behind your ear. “I can still kill them for you if you want?”
The vets overhear this and look at each other in alarm. You shake your head.
“Hey, what do you say we find an empty exam room and we-“
“Hey, we should get a move on killing this cow,” Adebayo cuts him off as she and Peacemaker return to the room.
“Okay, how do we do this without Murn?” asks Economos.
You all automatically turn to Harcourt. Adrian nods his head towards her in encouragement. She takes a deep breath and dives into an explanation of the plan to get to the barn to kill the cow before the teleportation device is ready.
“…Hopefully, we can make it in there before they make their move,” she finishes.
“I’m in,” says Peacemaker
“Hashtag me too,” says Adrian
You nod fervently
“I guess,” says Economos
“Yeah,” adds Adebayo
“Fuck yeah!” says the vet, and one of the nurses cocks a rifle.
“No, I think you need to calm down,” Peacemaker replies. “You’d just die.”
“But we are gonna need to sequester your vehicle out there because somebody rented a sports car with only two seats.” Adebayo looks at you.
“Me and B call the Corvette!” says Adrian as he hops off the counter.
“Fine. But keep up. We’re in a hurry.” Harcourt looks at you directly. “No screwing around.”
As you’re in the middle of typing, ‘We’re not teenagers - we can keep our hands to ourselves’, Adrian blurts “Well, it’s on your conscience that I might die today without ever having sex in a Corvette.”
You delete the message and put your phone away resignedly, rolling your eyes at Adrian.
“Gross dude, that’s a rental,” says Economos as you file out of the veterinarian’s surgery and into the van.
“Surprisingly nice people considering,” says the vet.
“Expect the guy in blue and his girlfriend,” adds one of the nurses.
“Yeah… they’re both a fucking mess.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A few hours later, after an unsuccessful attempt to get Eagly to drop Peacemaker’s sonic boom helmet onto the roof of the barn, you all watch from the bushes in the dark night as Economos goes undercover to place the helmet inside. He’s the only one who Goff wouldn’t recognise.
“Blackbird, when did Goff see you?” asks Peacemaker, confused.
“You should have seen her this morning when she sonic-screamed the butterflies at the hotel. She nearly got Goff,” laughs Adebayo. “You cut off my boyfriend’s toe, you bitch!”
“Boyfriend? I thought you guys just hooked up!” He turns to Adrian. “I thought you were supposed to share these things with your BFF!”
Pretending to fix your holster, you try hard to avert Adrian’s gaze. You haven’t seen any point in labelling your situationship. But he doesn’t seem phased.
“You tried to kill Goff for me?” Your eyes meet Adrian’s from behind his red visor. “Woah, you were right- that isromantic!”
Just when Economos seems to be in the clear, you hear one of the butterflies on the walkie-talkie yell. There’s sudden chaos outside the barn.
Oh shit.
You watch as the butterflies swarm him. Adebayo fumbles with her walkie-talkie.
“Activate sonic boom!”
You hear the first explosion, and the barn starts tumbling down. The butterflies leave Economos and start running towards the barn.
“Activate sonic boom,” she says again. Another sonic wave decimates the barn- the blast radius sends dozens of butterflies flying back.
There’s one more blast as Adebayo triggers the sonic boom again, and you wait, but the barn doesn’t crash into the depths below, where you know the cow is hidden.
“Yep, that's it for the charges.” Peacemaker pulls on his other helmet.
“We need you to stay here, Ads. If something happens to us, you're the only hope,” says Harcourt.
“The fuck am I?” mutters Economos, offended.
“What's the plan, man?” Adrian asks.
“We’re gonna get into the barn-” Peacemaker gestures to himself and you “- Blackbird’s gonna scream at the cow, then we’re gonna try and find a way out.”
“That’s suicide,” says Adebayo
You type a message on your phone and show Adrian, who reads it out loud.
“She says she and Peacemaker will probably end up in the Suicide Squad anyway. They’ll do it,” he says, mildly confused.
You and Peacemaker exchange meaningful looks.
“Let's go kill a cow,” he says.
You, Peacemaker, Harcourt and Adrian hop over the fence and start running towards the barn.
The atmosphere cracks as you inhale deeply and scream. It bursts the heads of a small group of butterflies running at you.
The four of you start firing, and it draws the attention of even more butterflies towards you.
Adrian laughs as he unleashes a massacre on your opponents. He’s in his element. Sometimes he’s such a goofball you forget how fucking good he is in combat.
“On your right, Birdie!” Shit. You take cover from the bullets behind a haystack.
Adrian brings out a machete and cuts down foe after foe. A group of butterflies round on him, and you leap over the haystack and yell, sending them flying back from him He gives you a quick nod before stomping on a butterfly crawling out of one of their heads.
“Blackbird, Chris- go! We’ll hold them off here!” yells Harcourt.
You and Peacemaker make a break for it.
“Fuck, yeah!” You hear Adrian shout behind you- he’s genuinely having fun wielding a machete in one hand and a handgun in the other.
As you reach the barn stairs, one of the butterflies almost catches Peacemaker. Adrian plants the machete directly in his skull.
“Don’t fuck with my BFF!” yells Adrian as Peacemaker jumps down the staircase as fast as he can.
Suddenly a hand covers your mouth, and your eyes bulge as you realise a butterfly is attacking you from behind. Not again, fucker. You elbow them in the ribs and struggle until the cool metal of a gun barrel pressed against your temple makes you freeze.
“Stop fucking squirming.”
The words make Adrian whip around. You’re about to wave at him, to tell him not to do anything rash, but his reflexes are too quick. Before either you or the butterfly realise what he’s doing, he shoots the butterfly in the head. A warm blood splatter hits your body, and you feel the thud of him dropping to the floor behind you.
“The only person who says that shit to my girlfriend is me.”
You check there’s no butterfly crawling out of the dead body behind you, and as you turn back around to smile at Adrian, you see it- a tiny gleam of silver flying towards you.
Instinctively you whip your hand up to block it. A gasp of pain and shock escapes you, as you see a steel throwing knife protruding through your extended palm.
Another gleam of sliver. Sudden pain. You choke. Your other hand comes up to touch your throat. Dazed, you feel a knife stuck deep in your neck.
“Fuck!” Adrian turns around and shoots the butterfly before they can throw a third knife.
The ground seems to come up from nowhere to hit your side. You gasp, trying to stem the bleeding from your neck with your left hand. The smell of grass and the blood pooling out in front of you makes you feel faint.
There’s the distinct sound of a bullet finding a soft target, then a thud as Adrian drops to his knees beside you. Momentarily distracted by your injuries, he was shot in the back. He falls flat on his front, masked face turned towards you.
You cough more blood. The pain searing through your neck is almost beyond endurance. Adrian fades in and out of focus.
“Birdie,” he groans. “Stay awake… We’re still gonna… drive off into the sunset.” He lifts himself onto his elbows to crawl towards you.
Every breath of air you take hurts- each tiny inhale slightly moves the knife in your neck.
You feel Adrian’s fingers remove your left hand, so he can put pressure on the wound. Even now, you feel comforted by his touch.
Hazily, you think that you’re glad to be dying knowing what it feels like to be loved.
There’s another strange cold sensation in your neck- a rush of air. But before you have time to wonder what’s happening, everything fades to black.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
You open your eyes blearily- it’s bright. Daylight. Your throat is raw. You’re in pain. But wait… you can feel pain- that’s a good sign, right? The smell of antiseptic is suffocating.
Looking down at yourself, your eyes try to focus on your heavily bandaged right hand. Your hands fly up to your throat, and you feel more bandages around your neck. There’s a pulse monitor attached to your finger.
“Hey, it’s me. You’re okay.” It’s Adebayo’s voice. As your vision becomes clearer, you see she looks different, as she sits beside you on a blue plastic chair. She’s wearing a white shirt, vest and a blazer. Sort of like she’s dressed for a funeral.
A funeral.
Where’s Adrian? You sit up and take in the rest of the bland room. You need your phone. Where’s my phone? So many questions fly through your mind.
“Hey, hey, hey- sit back down. Adrian’s alive.” You sigh in relief and lie back. “Everyone’s alive. We did it. We killed the cow.”
She tosses you your phone.
“Adrian’s in surgery. The bullet didn’t go too deep, but they need to get the fragments out. He’ll be out soon.”
Blackbird: And the others? x
Her phone pings as your message arrives. She reads it.
“Let’s see… Harcourt was shot right after Adrian- she’s in a coma, but she’ll survive. Chris is fine- he’s waiting with her in case she wakes up. Economos broke his leg. I was human-torpedoed through the cow and didn’t even sprain my neck.” she grins.
Blackbird: I don’t understand how I’m still alive x
“It was Adrian he-”
“Good, you’re awake.” Adebayo is interrupted by a doctor coming into the room. She introduces herself and picks up the chart at the end of your bed.
“The wound to your neck was deep… fortunately, it didn’t hit your spine. Patients with this kind of injury usually die from blood loss. But your boyfriend extracted the knife and stopped blood flow with duct tape.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “Removing a knife from a wound like that is normally very dangerous. But on this occasion, it saved your life.”
Adrian’s impulsivity has somehow paid off.
“Your throat, however-” she hesitates “-we had to do an endoscopy to check for trauma to the larynx, and we’d never seen anything like it. There were strange lesions all along the membrane of your vocal cords.”
You nod, absently fidgeting with the bandages on your injured hand. This is old news.
“We were able to remove the majority of them.” Your eyes dart up to meet hers. “But there are a few tiny ones left that were so embedded they couldn’t be removed without damaging the healthy tissue.”
Her words fly over your head as you and Adebayo exchange glances, clearly thinking the same thing.
“Your powers…” whispers Adebayo. Your heart thumps in your chest. You refuse to let yourself believe what you think might be happening. “Can she use her voice?” she addresses the doctor.
“Sure,” the doctor replies indifferently as she puts the chart back. “Just try not to speak too much or too loudly over the next few days. Otherwise, you’re good to be discharged.”
“I mean her superpowers. Her supersonic scream?”
“Her what?”
You’re unsurprised by her scepticism; this is classified information and unlikely to be on your medical records.
“Uh, never mind. Thank you,” says Adebayo as the doctor leaves the room. She turns back to face you. “...Can you?”
The last thing you want to do is cause an accident. You shake your head.
“C’mon- try and break that old-ass TV.” She jerks her head over her shoulder.
You concentrate and let out a small hum. It hurts. But nothing happens.
“Break,” you whisper- still nothing. Your throat is too raw to try yelling.
“It’s okay, B bird.” Adebayo notices tears forming in your eyes and moves over to sit on the edge of the hospital bed. She touches your shoulder, and the tears spill down your face.
“Happy tears.” Your voice is hoarse and incredibly sore. “There’s no way they’ll want me for the Suicide Squad now.”
She beams at you. “About that… I’m on my way to a press conference exposing Project Butterfly. Nobody’s joining the Suicide Squad. I made a deal with MI6 behind my mom’s back-”
“Bad idea-”
“Well, after this, I’m basically untouchable. I told MI6 I’d keep their name out of the press conference if they fired you. They still keep their hands clean, and if you check your email, you should be getting a pretty sweet severance package on Monday.”
“Kind of sounds like blackmail,” you whisper as you pull up your emails on your phone.
From: HM Government Secret Intelligence Service MI6
Subject: Agent Blackbird - Notification of redundancy
“Eh, I call it negotiation.”
“Thank you, Ads,” you say softly but sincerely.
She gets up from your bed and goes to leave but pauses at the door and laughs.
“What is it?”
“Adrian told the doctors he wanted to see you before his surgery. He was asking- asking for-“
She snorts and has to stop speaking. She begins laughing so hard that she’s struggling to breathe.
“What is it?” you ask hoarsely, waiting for the punchline.
She composes herself, “He was asking for someone called Blackbird. He said it was one name. Like Cher.” She cracks up again.
You bite your lip, trying not to laugh. It’s kind of sweet, but Christ…
“Did you even tell him your real name?”
You shake your head, and the ridiculousness of the situation hits you both simultaneously, and you can't help but burst out laughing. Adebayo doubles over, clutching her stomach, and you dab tears of laughter from your eyes with the hospital bedsheet.
“It never- “ you choke with laughter “- it never came up.”
You both collapse into hysterics. Ouch. Your good hand runs over the bandages on your neck.
“Damn, and I thought Adrian took his secret identity seriously.”
God, poor Adrian. You make a mental note to give him your real name when he wakes up from surgery.
“Hey, I almost forgot.” She tosses you a set of car keys which you catch with your uninjured left hand. “Think you have a few days before you need to return this.”
Once you’re dressed and discharged, you go to the car park for fresh air while you wait for Adrian to wake up from the effects of anaesthesia.
Blackbird: I’m alive. Text me when you’re awake xx
You find the Corvette and sit in it with the top down, the sun on your face. You listen to the radio and hum along gently. It’s raw on your throat, but the vibrations of the tune seem to come from your very soul. It feels… good.
Your phone pings twenty minutes later.
Vigilante: DUDE are you watching the news? xx
You flick through the radio channels on the car's sound system until you hear Adebayo’s voice.
“Peacemaker never wrote any diary. He was part of a team working in a deep-cover operation for the U.S. Government called "Project Butterfly."
Blackbird: She’s actually doing it… xx
“This is all part of a black-ops program known as ‘Task Force X’, where convicted criminals are undertaking dangerous missions in exchange for time off their sentences. It's been running for years, under the command of a woman named Amanda Waller…”
Vigilante: Which room are you in? xx
“Who happens to be my mother. Now, I'm calling for an immediate investigation into these inhumane conditions-“
You turn off the radio and breathe a sigh of relief. No mention of MI6, as promised.
Blackbird: I’m outside in the Corvette- I’ll come back upstairs now xx
You look over at the hospital and clap your hands over your mouth when a man in a gown jumps out of a window on the second story. He lands inelegantly in a flower bed and gets up.
It’s Adrian.
Of course, it’s Adrian.
He waves as he jogs towards you and hoists himself into the open-topped car without opening the door.
He twists his whole body to face you, clasps your face with both hands and kisses you passionately. It happens so quickly that it takes your brain a second to catch up.
He’s alive. We’re alive.
You return his embrace, and your hands wander down his back, trailing along the bare skin not covered by his hospital gown, resting on his waist where you feel the bandage wrap around his back.
Just feeling his warm skin beneath the medical coverings sends a wave of gratitude through you. Your heart races as Adrian kisses you deeply and tangles his fingers in your hair like he’s trying to feel every different texture of you. You’ve missed him so much, and the relief of being back in his arms is almost overwhelming.
You never want this moment to end.
He presses his forehead against yours. “God, I’m so happy you’re okay,” he murmurs “I thought. Fuck… I don’t wanna say what I thought.”
You know. You thought it too when you heard him collapse next to you in the field.
“I can’t believe you jumped out a window just after having surgery,” you whisper.
“I’m fine. I just-” He pulls back in surprise. “Wait…what the fuck!?”
“They removed some growths on my vocal cords,” you say, your hoarse voice barely audible.
Stupidly, you feel tears coming on, remembering your first FaceTime conversation.
‘Birdie, I fell for you the first time I saw you burst someone’s head open with your sonic scream.’
“I… I don’t think I have powers anymore.”
God, the lump in your ragged throat sears in pain. He gives you a concerned look. You don’t know how else to phrase what you’re about to say next, so you blurt it out.
“Do you still like me?”
You stare at him determinedly, refusing to let yourself cry.
He laughs. A loud, maniacal laugh that goes on way too long. You scowl.
“That’s hilarious, Birdie. I love this back and forth we get to have now you can speak.”
“Adrian, I’m serious,” you say sternly, but you think your heart might burst with joy. “I'm not the same person anymore. And I know you… I know you liked that I had powers.” You emphasise the word ‘like’ - you both know you mean ‘turned on’.
“Oh no,” he says mockingly. “I’m so sad that my girlfriend is going to moan all over my dick and scream my name.”
Even after all you’ve been through, your stomach twists in excitement when you hear him say girlfriend again.
“That… that was actually really good sarcasm, Adrian.”
“Uh, yeah, I learned from the best. The most sarcastic, second-best marksman in the team.”
“I’ll be the best marksman again soon. I was getting lazy when I had my powers.” You stretch your injured hand.
“Well…” He tries to sound upbeat. “We could squeeze in some more target practice before you go?”
“That can wait til we’re both healed…I have a bit more time than I thought.”
“How long?”
“MI6 has basically fired me. So I suppose until I find a new job.”
Grabbing your uninjured hand, he turns to look you in the eyes.
“Stay,” he says simply.
“Adrian, I…” you hesitate.
What’s waiting for you back home? Conversations with nobody except your landlord?
“Birdie, this feels right. Me and you. Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll drop it.”
“Adrian, you hardly know me… If you knew half of the things I’ve done… I mean, Adebayo read my file and wanted to send me to Belle Reve.”
“Oh, come on! I was in jail like last week.”
You chew your lip.
“Don’t go back to London. Not yet, anyway. Crash at my place… or if you decide you never want to leave, that’s cool too.”
You grip the wheel as excitement courses through your veins. “Okay.”
“Okay?” He looks at you like he doesn’t quite believe you. “Wait… really?”
“Were you not serious?” You raise an eyebrow.
“No, I was! I just thought you’d take more convincing.”
“I’m never getting rid of you, Adrian. Just like you said, remember?”
He lunges forward again and kisses you again with unbridled enthusiasm. His glasses push against your face. Butterflies - the good kind, not the alien kind- flutter in your stomach. You’ve fallen for him. Adrian. Vigilante. All of him.
You unbuckle your seatbelt. “Can you drive a manual?”
“What?!”
“A… a stick shift?”
“I know what it is. I just can’t believe you don’t think I can drive one.”
You hop out of the car and round to the passenger side. “You can drive us to your flat then.”
“You sure?” He launches himself into the drivers seat and turns on the engine, not waiting for your reply.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The first few days, you hadn’t had the strength to do much more than just lie in Adrian’s bed. You ordered food. Watched TV. Changed each other’s bandages. You’re grateful to have been able to rest during the day because your sleep has been interrupted by vivid nightmares.
Tonight, you wake up in another fit of sweat, hand clutching your neck. You dreamt that a butterfly had snuck up on you again from behind. Adrian wasn’t there to save you. And so they opened your throat with a silver throwing knife.
“Birdie?” Adrian says blearily, as he wakes up, and his eyes make out your hunched-over silhouette in the dark. He finds his glasses on the bedside table. “Did you have a nightmare again?”
You nod, heart still pounding in your chest.
“You can use your voice,” he reminds you again gently. Sometimes you forget you can talk after spending so long suppressing it. “Same as last time?”
“Same as last time,” you echo.
The light-up display on his alarm clock shows that it’s two o’clock in the morning. Adrenaline from your night terror pumps through you. You’re wide awake.
“We’ll work on disarming someone from behind as soon as you’re feeling better,” he says in an effort to reassure you.
Adrian stretches his arm out, giving you the perfect space on his chest to nestle into. You lie back down on his burgundy sheets and breathe deeply as you rest your head on him. He smells so good. Like home. Your shoulders become less tense, and your heart rate starts coming back down as you relax into his warm embrace.
“Can you put on a film for us to fall asleep to? Preferably something long and boring.”
“Have you ever seen Titanic? It’s like 3 hours long.”
Before you know it, you’re both engrossed and eating popcorn in bed.
“I can’t believe you’ve never seen this,” he says, absent-mindedly stroking your hair.
“I never understood the point. I mean, we already know what happens at the end.”
You both sit quietly as Jack and Rose kiss passionately in the back seat of an old car.
You roll your eyes. “We need more popcorn.” You get up from his bed and walk down the hall into the kitchen.
“I can skip this scene if it’s getting you too worked up?” He grins as he calls after you.
You hold up a middle finger behind you as you walk away. “Shut up.”
“Aha! You’re being a big meanie, which means you’re horny.”
You scoff and call back towards the bedroom. “It does not! I’m rude to you all the time.”
“You’re giving me the same look you gave me the first time we had sex. Like you’re so annoyed with me that you want to shut me up by kissing me.”
“I am not. I just find it boring watching people pretend to have sex.” Especially when we’re supposed to be taking it easy right now.
“Fine. I’ll find something else to watch.”
You run back to the bed and grab the remote control before he can. “No! I want to know how this ends!”
“I thought you knew how it ended?”
“And I thought you said it was boring!”
“Sit back down and watch it with me then if you’re so interested,” he challenges.
You forget about making more popcorn and sit beside him on the bed defiantly - much more upright than before. Both of you remain silent, eyes fixed on the TV. You watch as they grope each other in the back seat of the car. You clench your jaw, trying to ignore the heat between your legs. You discreetly push your thighs together, but the seam of his borrowed boxers that you’re wearing to bed rubs up against you dangerously.
“Stop looking at me, Adrian. I’m fine,” you say, feeling his gaze linger on you from the corner of your eye.
He moves closer to you. “I don’t think you are.”
“Ugh, please. Do you honestly think I’m horny for softcore nineties romance?” You keep your eyes fixed ahead, trying to look disinterested.
“I know what you look like when you’re turned on.”
“You’re projecting. But if you can’t wait a few more days and need to take care of yourself, then...”
“Yeah? Maybe I will. I’ll even let you watch.”
“Oh my god, Adrian,” you scoff, trying to ignore the hot, sticky feeling in your underwear. “If I need to wait, then so do you.”
“I don’t think you can, B.”
“I can wait longer than you.”
“Well, you don’t have to look at you all day. And you’re always wearing my stuff - it’s killing me!”
“Yeah, well, I have to look at you all day too.” You turned to face him. “You and your stupidly pretty face and your fucking abs. I mean, Christ, who actually has abs?”
He looks pleasantly surprised that you’re finding it difficult to be around him.
“Now I know you’re all riled up because even your compliments are super aggressive.”
You cross your arms. “We’re supposed to be resting.”
On-screen, Rose presses her hand against the car’s fogged-up glass, and you close your eyes involuntarily.
Your weight on the mattress shifts suddenly as Adrian leans in, and his lips meet that sensitive spot a few centimetres behind your earlobe, making you softly sigh. You tilt your head, exposing more of your neck to him, your body leaning into his mouth on you. He plants kisses across your sensitive skin, avoiding your fresh scar.
“Adrian…” you say warningly but it falls on deaf ears as you feel his warm tongue trail over your neck. His hand cups your pussy through the fabric of the boxers, and your body responds automatically, hips tilting towards him.
“You might be able to use your words now, but I can still read your body language like a book.” His firm hand squeezes and puts pressure between your legs. “I think you’re done waiting.”
Of course, you are. It’s been torture being stuck in this apartment with him for days. You want to fuck him, obviously. But more than that, you want to please him, thank him for saving your life yet again, and show him how much he means to you with your body. To fulfil his every desire and fantasy-
Fantasy.
You sit upright suddenly.
“Oh.” He withdraws his hand, surprised. “Is everything okay, B? I was just teasing, sorry, we can just-”
“I don’t believe the window would steam up like that if you had sex in a car.” You cut across him and walk over to the bedroom door. You turn back with a smirk. “Would you like to find out if it does?”
He doesn’t need to be asked twice.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You don’t even make it out of his apartment complex’s underground car park.
Adrian sits in the driver’s seat of the Corvette with you straddling him. In a state of semi-undress, you’ve ended up in just his t-shirt that you were sleeping in- everything else you were wearing lies forgotten on the passenger seat beside you.
His hands grip your hips as you grind yourself on him, rubbing your wet pussy along the length of his shaft. Your thighs are soaked. The friction feels so, so good, and your chest heaves as you feel his hips rocking, desperate to be inside you.
His hands leave your sides and lift your shirt up. “You are so fucking hot.” His tongue swirls over your nipples sloppily, and you grab the back of his head, pushing his face into your chest. He lets out a muffled moan with pleasure.
You help him pull his T-shirt off and toss it in the seat next to you. You drag your hands down his lean chest, avoiding the newly healed scars from the grenade blast a few days ago.
“You look so beautiful like this,” he says, watching your flushed face as you grind back and forwards in the constricted space of the Corvette, feeling the sensation of his hard cock against your clit.
The space in the car is limited- his legs take up most of the room on the seat. You lean back in the tight space between him and the steering wheel to give him a better view and feel the cold wheel against your shoulder blades.
“Hey, careful you don’t lean on the horn.” He steadies you with one hand on your lower back, and gripping his cock with the other. You lick your palm and move his hand away, replacing it with your own. His thick cock is warm as you grip the shaft and move your hand up and down.
“Fuck, how are you so soft?” His hips jerk upwards into your clenched fist. “We have the same fucking job.”
He loves the softness of you as much as you love the sculpted, sharp edges of him. Your grip of him falters when his hand moves between your legs, fingers sliding through your folds, making direct contact with your clit. His fingers are broader and rougher than yours, and a small whine escapes your lips when he begins rubbing circles onto the bundle of nerves there.
Your fist keeps pumping up and down the length of him, and you feel pleasure begin to wash over you as his fingers deftly tease your pussy. He traces the entrance of your wet cunt, and your walls clench desperately over nothing.
“Tell me what you want, baby.”
You eagerly adjust your hips over his, and position the head of his cock so it’s pressing up against your lips. He grips both of his hands under your thighs and stops you from lowering yourself onto him.
“Use your words.”
Oh.
“I… I want you to fuck me. Please,” you whisper. For some reason, it makes you shy. You’re out of practice when it comes to dirty talk.
“That’s my girl.”
Adrian’s green eyes meet yours, and it makes your skin feel red hot. His hands return to your hips, helping you down slowly, and you feel the familiar pressure as his length disappears into you.
“Holy shit,” he murmurs, leaning his head back. You get a glimpse of his Adam's apple moving up and down as he swallows.
You pause at the base, getting used to the intrusion. Rocking your hips slowly, the sensation forces you to take a sharp inhale of breath- even though your pussy is sopping wet for him, you still need time to adjust to how thick he is.
“C’mon, nice and easy. You’ve got this.”
His praise spurs you on. You grip the headrest, giving yourself leverage to ride him.
You lean in and suck on his bottom lip, realising that this is the first time you’ve ever been able to kiss him while his cock has been inside you. You allow yourself a soft moan into his mouth. It feels alien to be able to express yourself like this while sliding up and down on him.
The realisation seems to hit him too when he hears you moaning. It makes him hungry for you- his tongue enters your mouth and rolls over your own.
He bucks his hips, and his hands move to your ass so he can control the pace of your movement on his cock. The obscenely slick sound of his achingly hard cock driving in and out of you is only amplified in the constricted space. You bury your face into the crook of his neck, tasting the slightly salty sweat of his skin on your tongue.
“Fuck, you’re taking it like such a good girl,” he says through gritted teeth.
A searing heat ebbs through you, and you feel it creep up to your neck at his words. His words. You remind yourself you don’t have to stay silent either.
“Your cock feels so good,” you say, lips moving to press against his ear. You hear Adrian’s breath hitch in his throat.
You pull apart so he can watch your still-exposed tits bounce as he guides you up and down, fucking you open. The swell inside you begins as you watch his brow furrow in concentration, looking from your tits to the desperate look on your face as you grapple the headrest behind him helplessly.
“Is this what you needed, baby?”
You nod, feeling the heat in your lower abdomen tighten.
“C’mon, say it,” he instructs.
You hear the wet sounds of your pussy and thighs slapping into him. You’re on the brink as he rocks up into something heavenly inside of you, hitting your g-spot. It feels so good- you can’t stop yourself from babbling what comes out next.
“Yes… Needed you. Wanted to - to make you feel so good. For saving me. Again.”
He pushes down on your hips, fucking you with newfound ferocity, and continues hitting that one spot that makes your whole body sing for him. Your fingers move to grip his shoulders, and you lock eyes with him.
“Fuck, tell me… Tell me,” he says urgently.
“Always- fuck- always fucking saving my ass... My fucking hero.”
You clench around him, holding on for dear life as he quickens his pace, working you higher and higher. Your ass slaps against the front of his thighs, faster and faster in rhythm with your panting.
“Don’t- I’m gonna cum if you say that,” he warns.
“That you’re my hero?” you whisper, staring into his eyes, his pupils dilated and swimming with lust. He leans his head back and groans in response. “You are, Adrian. My- my hero. My Vigilante.”
You suck the skin of his neck, squeezing your eyes shut, squeezing everything below your waist as you tumble into sheer ecstasy. You bear down on him as he jerks his hips up, fucking into you like a starved man. The force of his thrusts makes you bounce so hard that you need to lift your arm to stop yourself from hitting your head on the roof of the car.
“Shit,” he gasps. “You can’t say that. I’m gonna cum- oh, fuck I am. I’m cumming. Fuuuck.”
His rambling doesn’t even register clearly in your head- you’re too busy burying your face into his neck again, and with a muffled moan, you cum with him- hard. Your teeth graze his neck, and your walls contract around his cock, as you feel him coat your insides.
You slump into him, your dead weight on top of him. Every inch of your sweat soaked body in contact with his. He wraps his arms around you as you both catch your breath, endorphins lighting up your insides like fireworks. You nuzzle into his neck as his cock still pulses inside you, and cum leaks out of your pussy.
The windows of the Corvette are, in fact, steamed up. His glasses are too. You both silently enjoy the post-orgasmic bliss for several moments. From this position, his heart is pressed against yours, and you can feel them both beating loudly against your ribcages as you begin to resume normal breathing.
“So that was like…That was like my kryptonite,” he says, breaking the silence.
“Being called a hero?” you ask hoarsely. Your throat feels scratchy again.
“Yeah…” And for the first time ever, you think, he sounds embarrassed. “I guess it’s something I always wanted to hear.”
“You’ve saved my life at least three times in the past month.” You trace your fingers across his chest. “And you literally saved the world from an alien invasion five days ago.”
He cups your face, and you lean into his hand, kissing his palm softly.
“Do you think we’re the good guys?”
You hesitate. “I don’t think it matters. We’re good enough for each other.”
“But what about, like, Superman?”
“You don’t wanna be a hero like Superman.”
“What?! Why not?”
“He’s an idiot. Peacemaker told me that Wonderwoman says he can’t find the clit.”
“Well… at least I can do that.” He pauses. “Wait, I can, right?”
“Are you serious?”
“No, I'm totally joking… I think.”
“You can.”
“Thank god.”
You laugh and clamber off of him into the passenger seat.
“He didn’t even offer to fly you and Harcourt to the hospital either,” he adds in disbelief.
“Superman? When was this?”
“Right, I forgot to tell you that Adebayo’s mom did send the Justice League to the barn after all! They turned up super late. The cow was already dead.”
You laugh. Ouch, your throat feels raw. You lean back and massage your neck, swallowing thickly.
“Is your voice sore from using it too much?
You nod.
“Well, we probably should be resting.”
You give him a stern look, and he grins.
“There it is! You’ve still got it!” He pulls his jeans and boxers back up and switches on the engine. “Do you wanna go and get ice cream for your throat?”
That does sound good, you think and hastily pull your clothes on. When you’re both decent, he puts the car in first gear, and it starts moving.
“Ooh, okay, I’m gonna guess your favourite flavour, and you tap the dash one for yes and twice for no.”
You smile at him fondly, secretly pleased that he’s finally mastered the art of yes-or-no questions.
Chapter 5: From Gotham with Love
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