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happy74827 · 1 month ago

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Five Hundred Times

[Adrian Chase x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: He’s always the one who comes back bleeding, but this time, it’s your heart on the line {GIF: @tinalbion}

WC: 1855

Category: Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Blood + Injuries {TW: Adrian being… well, Adrian. Which includes, but is not limited to: emotionally-stunted love confessions, gore-related quips, and bleeding on your furniture like it’s a love language}.

I may or may not have a new obsession 👀

『••✎••』

You smell blood before you see it.

Not the kind that reeks of death or sterile gauze, but something faintly metallic, woven into the sweat on his skin like it's been there long enough to get bored of being noticed. You don’t register it fully at first — too distracted by the scrape of keys against the door, the quiet grunt he makes when he shoulder-checks it open because one of his arms isn’t working.

And there he is.

Adrian Chase, dressed in blood and bulletproof nylon, wearing that same boyish smirk like a band-aid on a gaping wound. One eye is puffed and half-shut, there's a cut above his brow that’s still wet, and he's limping like someone took a crowbar to his knee.

But he grins like it’s funny.

"Babe," he drawls, stumbling into the living room like this is just another Tuesday. "So, weird story. Turns out, you can get stabbed in the same shoulder three times and still do a somersault over a moving car. Science."

You freeze in the kitchen doorway, a half-empty mug of tea cooling in your hands. You’d made it for him. Stupid, you think. Stupid, like warm drinks fix bullet wounds.

Your heart’s hammering behind your ribs—panic, fury, the kind of cold, sharp fear that makes you feel like your bones might splinter from the inside. He sees it, you think. Sees all of it and keeps walking.

He doesn’t sit. Just drops his mask on the floor like it was dirty laundry and starts pulling off the top half of his suit, fingers clumsy with dried blood. There’s a spreading stain on his side, dark and sluggish.

You haven’t moved. Your throat feels tight.

"Adrian," you say, and it comes out too soft. Not angry. Not even surprised. Just small.

He glances up, and there’s a flicker in his expression—guilt, maybe, or something adjacent to it. But it passes like a cloud over the sun.

"Hey, it’s fine. Just a little... hole." He gestures vaguely to his side. "Think I’ve had worse papercuts, honestly."

You exhale sharply, jaw twitching.

"A papercut?"

"Yeah, y’know—big, aggressive paper. Like, militant origami."

His words are candy-coated, tossed out like a deflection grenade. You can feel the heat crawling up your neck, not from anger this time, but from something deeper. Rawer. The kind of helpless grief that’s been piling up like unspoken words between the cracks of each visit, each stitched-up night, each half-lie he’s smiled through.

He keeps talking — something about the guy who did this, how he "kind of respected his dedication to stabbing," how he managed to make a pun mid-fight that he was really proud of — and you snap.

Not loud. Not violent. But something in you gives.

You set the mug down with shaking hands. Walk over slowly. Kneel in front of him. Not to patch him up. Not yet. Just to look.

His hand is resting on his thigh. You touch it, and he flinches — barely, like his nerves can’t quite decide if they’re online — but he lets you. You lift his fingers. Blood under his nails. Calluses from the last time he shattered someone’s jaw.

"You’re not okay," you whisper. It’s not a question.

Adrian stares down at you. The air is too still. You wonder if he’s going to say something flippant, some callback to a joke from two nights ago — "Define okay," or "Baby, I’m invincible." But he doesn’t. Not yet.

You continue. Voice tight.

"You keep coming back like this. And I keep pretending it’s fine. Because you pretend it’s fine. But I’m—I can’t keep doing it, Ade. I can’t keep watching you bleed and smile like it’s a sitcom punchline."

His jaw tightens. There’s a twitch at the corner of his mouth, like he’s still considering the punchline. But he doesn’t say it.

So you keep going. You have to.

"You laugh through pain like it’s a party trick. You get stabbed and joke about origami, and I’m here—every time—I’m just waiting for the time you don’t come back. Or the time you do, but you’re not you anymore. Just pieces of you. And I don’t think I can survive that, Adrian. I don’t think I’d even want to."

You don’t cry. Not really. You just press your forehead to his uninjured knee, breathing, shaking against the fabric of his suit.

Silence.

Then—

"You worry," he says.

It’s quiet. Not a question. Not even a thought, really —more like something that slipped out before his brain had a chance to process it.

His eyes are on you, but not in the way they usually are—no teasing, no deflection. Just that wide, strangely boyish sort of look, like he’s seeing you for the first time and it’s short-circuiting something inside him.

"You worry… about me."

He blinks slowly, as if the sentence is taking up more space in his head than he knows what to do with.

"I mean," he adds, rubbing the back of his neck with his good hand, "I knew you cared, obviously. You're here, you make tea, you patch me up when I’m leaking red stuff—very loving, very Florence Nightingale." He gestures vaguely, trying to play it cool, but his tone is all over the place—like he's trying to match what he thinks he should sound like and completely failing. "But this? This is like… real-deal worry. Like, emotional distress. Because of me."

He lets out a low, breathy laugh, barely holding together. "That’s wild."

You stare at him, stunned. The emotional rawness is still boiling just under your skin, and he’s over here having a mild existential revelation about the fact that someone loves him.

He leans back slightly, breath catching as it pulls at the wound on his side. Still smiling. Not the cocky kind—no, this one’s soft and stunned and almost… reverent.

"You love me," he says again, like he’s trying it out in different lighting. Like it might taste different if he says it slower.

You pull away, just enough to meet his eyes head-on. "Adrian, you’re bleeding."

"I know," he says, bright and breathless. "And you’re devastated about it."

His voice hitches on a laugh, and you don’t know whether to shake him or scream. Maybe both. Because this-this thing he’s doing, this delight in your suffering—he doesn’t even realize it’s breaking you.

"Why is that a joke to you?" you ask, quieter now. Fragile.

And that stops him.

Adrian’s grin falters, like someone blew out the candle behind his eyes.

"I’m not joking about you," he says, and it’s honest—plainspoken in a way that sounds strange coming from him. "I’m just… I didn’t think anyone could feel that way about me. Not really. Not past the first couple dates, anyway."

You blink, the words hitting you somewhere low in the chest. "You think I’m still here out of politeness?"

"I don’t know," he says, voice low. "I guess I thought you just had a hero thing. Or a kink. I don't know, man, it's confusing. I've never been loved before."

The words hang in the air, awkward and too heavy for how simply he said them, like a punchline that forgot to land.

He doesn’t meet your eyes now — just stares a little past you, past the room, past himself maybe. His breathing is shallow, and not just from the pain in his side. There’s something deeper in it. That quiet, jittery type of fear that has nothing to do with knives or bullets.

You blink at him. Slowly. Like, if you do it too fast, the weight of what he just said might tip you over completely.

"You... seriously think that?" you ask, your voice barely a whisper. "That I’m here because I have a kink?"

“I said maybe,” he mutters quickly, defensive in that dumb, knee-jerk way of his. “Could be. I mean—come on, have you seen me in this suit?”

Your expression doesn’t change.

His smirk flickers. Dies as he exhales, looking away again. "Sorry. That was—yeah. Not the time."

A beat passes. You sit back on your heels and stare at him, arms limp at your sides. Not because you’re angry anymore. You’re not even sure what you are. Hollow, maybe. Bone-tired.

"I thought you knew," you say, finally. "That I loved you."

"I mean, yeah. Kind of. You say nice things sometimes. You look at me like I’m not completely insane. You make soup." He gestures vaguely toward the kitchen, then winces. "But I didn’t know it meant something. Not like this. Not in a 'you break down when I’m bleeding' way."

You shake your head slowly. "Adrian… love is that. It means that. It’s not just soup and looking at each other. It’s being scared out of your mind because the person you care about walks into your house full of holes like it’s a joke.”

He doesn’t answer.

You glance down at his side. Blood is still seeping through the half-unzipped suit, slower now, but enough to make your stomach turn. You reach for the med kit on the table beside you, pull out gauze with shaking fingers, and move closer.

He watches you quietly, for once not narrating every second of it.

"I don’t want you to change who you are," you say softly as you press gauze against the wound. He hisses between his teeth but doesn’t pull away. "But I need you to stop acting like your life is disposable. Like it’s fine if you don’t come back one day."

Adrian swallows hard. "It’s not that I think it’s fine. I just… I don’t think about it."

"That’s the problem," you say, your voice breaking at the edges. "I think about it all the time."

He’s silent again. The tension in his jaw twitches under the weight of whatever he’s holding back. You tape the gauze in place and sit there for a long moment, hands still hovering over his ribs.

"I don’t want you to die thinking you’re unloved," you whisper.

That gets him. Visibly.

His fingers curl around your wrist, not hard, just enough to make you look up at him. His mouth opens, then closes. His eyes—glassier now—search yours like he’s trying to memorize this moment, every sharp, fragile bit of it.

"I won’t die," he says, voice cracking in a way he clearly hates. "Not without telling you that I love you too. Probably, like, five hundred times. In a row. In increasingly bad accents."

You huff out something like a laugh, watery and aching.

"I’m serious," he goes on. "You’re gonna get so tired of hearing it. Like, 'Shut up, Adrian, I know you love me, you’ve said it in an Irish accent and a pirate voice and while bleeding out in my kitchen—'"

"Ade."

He stops.

You lean forward, gently pressing your forehead to his. His breath catches.

"I love you," you say, quiet but sure.

And when he says it back—rough and soft and a little terrified—you know he means it.

No punchline. No mask. Just Adrian. Still bleeding, still broken.

But real.

And finally, finally—loved.

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callmelittlesunshinefics · 2 years ago

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[Someone to Try New Things With] - Part 1

Adrian Chase/Reader

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: Cursing, drug use, universe-similar language/subject matter, will add as needed as things might get smutty.

AN: This has been sitting in my drafts for days now with me putting off posting. No Y/N, but the reader is loosely based off of the same as my AO3 fic. This is still a baby of an idea and more of a drabble to length is tbd :)

Covered in blood and speeding down the highway, everyone was having a much better time than they probably should. You chalked it up to the adrenaline, the euphoria at somehow still being alive despite a literal gorilla swinging you around like its toy doll. Everyone was celebrating the win, exposing and wounding a deep rooted butterfly operation right under their noses, and yet, you couldn’t help but find yourself dwelling on the opposite. The obvious fact that this plant supplied so much of the alien food source that it could only mean an invasion on the scale of which you hadn’t fully even grasped yet.

But hey, nothing getting a little less than sober couldn’t fix.

Harcourt nudged your shoulder, pulling you out of your own head, “If even I’m sporting a hint of a smile, how is it you’re not?” She eyed you suspiciously.

Emilia had known you the longest of the team, and had actually been the person who made the call to recruit you. You were…an exception to the government to say the absolute least. To put it simply, this universe wasn’t your first home, but you did find yourself here and even found family, and abilities you never knew you had in your other life.

Amanda Waller was aware of your arrival immediately, though once she saw who had found you first, even she knew she couldn’t intervene with her usual force. The best she could do was invite you and your…’uncle’, Lucifer Morningstar, to brunch while she was ‘conveniently passing through’ L.A. Explain who she was, what she did, and ask if she could ever call on them for help.

She did, and once or twice you agreed. It soon became obvious that you were more likely to agree if Emilia were on the case as well, and the two of you became friends with a quickness that surprised you both. She knew your entire past, in both worlds, and in return you were one of the only people who knew hers. Probably as close as you would come to having a sister.

“Just trying to wrap my head around the day I guess. Or,” you coughed, making a show of raising your voice even above the music, “OR trying to figure out if anyone wants to partake in some legal drugs and alcohol this evening because what the fuck just happened??”

The group collectively cheered and you smirked at Emilia, as if to prove everything were fine. She rolled her eyes at your blatant attempt to throw her off.

Leota slid over, joining the huddle as soon as she saw the dreaded Harcourt eye roll.

“Is it the dancing? Are you totally questioning your sexual taste over that dancing?”

“OH MY GOD” you whisper yelled, channeling David a-la Schitt’s Creek.

Adebayo laughed, “What? You’re the only one sitting here looking miserable after getting out of there in one piece, and since she couldn’t get you to crack I figured you were regretting your crush on-“

“I know what you’re-“ you cut her and yourself off, closing your eyes and stopping.

Emilia doesn’t know where to start with her prying, and Leota had to go to straight to the one thing she didn’t want to talk about in such a close knit space. She wanted to talk about your hopelessly ridiculous crush on Adrian Chase.

You fell pretty hard and pretty fast for someone who made absolutely no fucking sense. Emilia couldn’t make heads or tails of it. She was mortified. Not quite disgusted, she wasn’t blind, but she never believed in the ‘love at first sight’ thing. And neither did you, which only made how you felt, and how deeply you felt it, all the more confusing.

You decided to fess up to your actual feelings before they could make any more guesses, “Honestly the scale of this thing is just weighing on me. Didn’t hit me until we saw the size of this operation, ya know?”

They both looked momentarily deflated, but quickly bounced back shrugging, with Emilia shaking her head at you.

“Okay see, you have to enjoy the moment.” Leota forced your shoulders down urging you to relax and speaking louder now, “I think we’re gonna do exactly what you said.”

Economos snorted from the driver’s seat, “Drugs and alcohol?”

“Fuck yeah, I’m in.” From Chris, obviously.

You hadn’t even realized the guys had tuned into the conversation once Leota spoke up. Economos shrugged like he was in but didn’t care, though you could tell he was excited. The only one still thinking was Adrian, and you looked at him waiting for an answer. Chris spoke up instead.

“Dude, stop being weird about weed and just come, it’s legal, you gotta let it go and probably try it so you don’t keep being so fucking-“

“Alright, alright!” Adrian interrupted before Chris could keep going, he didn’t want to hear the rest of it. He looked at you.

“I’m coming but we need snacks. Come to 7-11 with me when we get back?”

You smirked, “Adrian, I would love to.”

He glared at you, “Are you being sarcastic?”

“She’s not,” Harcourt said, “You two head out when we get back and I’ll text you a list.”

The rest of the ride was spent with everyone shouting out snacks and drinks they like, don’t like, don’t like but might like while stoned, and it went on and on until John and Chris were fighting about Combos and there wasn’t anything resembling a list. You leaned into Adrian’s side, watching everything unfold.

“I think we have to make a run for it and just buy everything in 7-11.” She stage whispered near him and he smirked.

“Yeah, there’s no way we can afford everything in 7-11.”

You laughed in response and held up a wallet that was clearly not your own. You let it fall open for Adrian to see that you had picked Emilia’s pocket while she was trying to end the Great Combo Debate.

“You know that’s a crime.” He raised his eyebrows at you, you knew Adrian well enough to know that while he sounded like he was joking, he completely wasn’t.

“Actually it’s not,” you pulled out a generic looking credit card Adrian had never seen before, “Em has a card that gets comp’d by the job. And since this is a team event after nearly getting shredded by a gorilla, I think Waller can bankroll us tonight.”

“In that case I’m gonna need two bags of each Skittles flavor just for me-”

He went on, but you just bounced on your heels waiting for John to park. Everyone had a part; Chris and John were heading out to find a dealer Chris knew for some last minute party favors, Harcourt and Adebayo were on alcohol and set up duty, grabbing speakers from a dusty room in the back and throwing on a playlist.

You and Adrian were on your way to 7-11 when you realized that the ride had been unusually quiet. You weren’t totally sure what you were to Adrian, but you knew that he never had any shortage of things to say or questions to ask you. As soon as you had joined the team and they had been given a (loose) background of why you joined the team, Adrian had had an endless stream of questions for you. The team had given him a hard time about it, but you assured them you didn’t mind, not adding how adorable you found it.

“What’s on your mind, Ade?”

It struck you not for the first time that it was a good thing Vigilante’s mask was so concealing because you could read every thought that passed Adrian’s mind. He clearly weighed whether or not to tell the truth or make something up, you could see the moment he decided on the truth, and the moment that he braced himself play out in succession.

“I’m thinking about smoking with you guys to stop being annoying like Chris said, but it’s probably so gross and I’m gonna choke and then he’s just gonna make fun of me more and think I’m a lame best friend so then Adebayo is gonna be second under Eagley and third may as well not even count as a best friend.”

Everything was said in one running sentence and he kept his eyes straight ahead, but you could tell how worried he actually was about this.

“Okay.” You took a deep breath-

“It’s fine, I was being stupid.”

“No, you’re not, let’s just talk it out. Seriously.” You looked right at him and he nodded. Pulling into the 7-11 parking lot, he parked and threw his seat belt off, turning to you and waiting.

“First of all Ade, don’t smoke because of Chris. He’s just messing with you and once he starts partying he’ll forget he even said it.”

Adrian nodded begrudgingly.

“Second, the only reason you should try tonight would be if you want to try it for yourself while you’re with friends who’ll look out for you in case it doesn’t go well. For all of his jokes I know Chris would look out for you if it actually came down to it. He’d make fun of you first, but he’d help.” You smirked at him, shrugging.

Adrian took a deep breath and released it, immediately feeling lighter, but also a little scared. He told you it was Chris he was worried about, totally. It was, anyway, but then you sat there and walked through everything he said, one step at a time, in a way no one else ever does and he was able to make sense of things so the problem just…goes away? Crazy.

“I know you said I should only do it if I want to, but I wanna know if you think I should do it?” He asked you so genuinely, like it was a matter of life and death.

“Okay, how about this. I’ll try to explain what I like about it, and you can think about if you’d like that too and want to try.” He nodded and you took that as your sign to keep going, “I mean you know me Ade, I get anxiety about things I don’t even know if I should have anxiety about yet. Not to mention all the shit I’d much rather forget. I’m not saying smoking makes any of that go away, but it definitely puts me in a headspace where for a little while it doesn’t feel as heavy. It feels like I can really breath, and all of the good things just feel better too. It’s not like that for everyone, and it takes some getting used to, but that’s what I like about it.”

You meandered towards the end of that sentence, suddenly feeling self conscious over how intently Adrian was staring at you and listening to your every word. He thought about what you said before very seriously stating, “Okay, I’m definitely a maybe.” and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Let’s head in, gonna take a while to grab one of everything.” You joked, exiting the car with Adrian catching up to you.

By the time you made it back to base Adrian wouldn’t let you help carry anything and asked you to send Chris and John out instead. He did, however, take the time to clarify that he wasn’t being sexist, he just knew you had carried enough out of 7-11 and Harcourt and Adebayo probably needed a break from their bickering.

He was way more aware than people gave him credit for, you decided making your way into the building.

“That was a pretty clean swipe but I’m gonna need my wallet back now.” Emilia help her hand out expectantly, smirking.

“‘Clean’ come on, you know you didn’t even notice, you can say so.” You rolled your eyes and passed the wallet back, leaving the receipt tucked in for her expense report. You looked around and laughed, “Do you think you guys got enough beer?” There were cases all over of several different types.

Leota shrugged, “Everyone likes something different and it’s not like we’re not gonna use it.”

“That’s true, I just know once I smoke I’m going to start tossing those like I’m Stone Cold Steve Austin and no one will be able to talk sense into me.”

The guys all came in dropping bags from 7-11 just in time to catch your last remark and Chris immediately agreed.

“FUCK YEAH WE HAVE TO-”

“OUTSIDE!” Emilia interrupted, “If you must be children, do. it. out. side.”

“Yes, mom.” You rolled your eyes, quickly shaking your head at Chris and shooting him a warning glare from adding on to your statement. You could easily see him calling Emilia ‘mommy’ and getting this whole night canceled for everyone.

“Need any help?” You turned to John who you were surprised to see getting a bong set up. Not exactly what you were expecting for a black ops team, but hey, who were you to judge. Lucifer used some surprising pieces too, after all.

“Nah, pretty straightforward over here, but everyone agreed you’ll be getting first dibs.”

“Aw, thanks.” You weren’t all that surprised. As Emilia said, you not joining in the celebration was an odd sight, and not just to her. There was a silent agreement that you needed the nudge.

Everyone settled onto the floor surprisingly naturally. Once the adrenaline started fading a little and they had found their favorite snacks, the group found themselves casually arranged in a circle on the ground, throwing things at each other and debating the music choices.

A loose order was formed once you decided to light the bong, with Adrian observing as the rest of the group (excluding Emilia) passed the herb around. After Chris lit more than he could handle you jumped in to help, pulling the bowl and laughing along with Chris.

“So is there a way for like,” he nudged his glasses up his face and shrugged, “you can start it for me and I can just ya know, do that part at the end?”

“Is he talking about a shotgun?” Economos foolishly asked while Chris burst into a grin. You looked to the two women for help, neither seeing any reason for your panic.

“Why yes there IS a way to do that, and I’m sure Angel Cakes would be happy to help you out with it.” Chris eagerly nodded at you, making sure to drop the nickname he knew you couldn’t stand.

“Chris don’t be ridiculous, we all know you two are close enough to do it.” Leota jumped in, ready to save you from your already weakening self control.

“Well sure but he didn’t ask me he asked her, and probably cause he knows I might laugh right in his mouth and that would be-“

“Okay, enough, yeah, fuck it-“ you cut everyone off, getting a bit louder with each work, “I’m gonna shot gun Ade’s first hit, but everyone’s taking a shot first.”

The group gave a salute and followed orders, proving that there were at least some things they could agree on as a team.

“So what exactly does shotgun even mean for this, it’s not like shotgunning a beer otherwise why would you or Chris have to do it…?” Adrian was asking the questions to the group, but specifically you while you grabbed your lighter from Chris and motioned for Adrian to slow down.

“I’m gonna light the bowl, take a deep breath, and hold all the smoke in my mouth.” He nodded for you to continue, “I’m going to turn to you and blow all the smoke into your mouth, so make sure you take a nice deep breath. Hold it for a while, and don’t let anyone be a bitch if you cough.”

“Economos, this is what you thought I was asking for??”

“Well you seem like you’re into some kinky shit so sure!”

“I mean yeah but not with you!” Adrian caught himself and turned back to you “With him that is, not saying yes with you but not no either because any answer is inappropriate so-“

“Adrian,” you stopped him, “We’re here now. Just take a deep breath when I tell you, okay?”

He nodded and you lit the bowl, saying a quick prayer that this wasn’t going to be the metaphorical rubber band snap that sent you crossing the lines of appropriate workplace boundaries with an off-the-books-anyway assassin.

You went on as if everything were completely normal. As if Adrian weren’t watching your lips with the intense concentration usually reserved for something else entirely, deadly in a different sense. You pulled the bowl from the slider and grabbed Adrian’s chin, gesturing him to tilt and open his mouth, which he did surprisingly quickly.

The first thing he noticed was that he did faintly taste your cherry soda, something he told himself wouldn’t happen, because surely the only taste he would be able to notice would be the weed he told himself he’d never try. It almost felt welcoming in a way he didn’t expect, it tasted familiar, and tasted like you, something he had been so curious about that he felt instantly calmed. Until he remembered the smoke in his lungs and urgently started coughing, smoke pluming out quickly. Expecting everyone to be laughing, he was pleasantly surprised to look up to see the team cheering, Chris coming over to clap him on the back.

Turned out to be exactly like you said, Adrian realized everything felt a little lighter. Problems that seemed insurmountable earlier…kind of seemed manageable now.

#adrian chase #adrian chase/reader #fanfic #dc universe #peacemaker #fanfiction #vigilante #vigilante x reader #vigilante peacemaker

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