#hbo peacemaker

[vigilvntes]

Vigilante Hotline - Adrian Chase x Reader

A/N: hi. my brain works in mysterious ways and i had this idea earlier on when i responded to an ask and now here we are, three hours later with a silly little vigilante fic. it's literally just text interactions, vig's texts are the ones that end with 🧜‍♂️ (obviously). but yeah. i had a lot of fun writing this, and i'll be SO happy to write more if y'all want it?? idk. anyway enjoy i guess!

Warnings: mentions of groping/non-consensual touching (grabbing ass, etc), creepy men, mentions of violence/injuries, language (are we surprised), and just vig being generally unhinged as always. (let me know if i've missed anything!!)

Word count: 2.9k. oops.

Summary: You text in to Vigilante's 'Vigilante Hotline' after a bad encounter at the club.

likes, comments and rbs are very much appreciated <3

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

You've heard of it, of course you have. It's the town's worst kept secret. The little side hustle that Evergreen's favourite local murderer-slash-vigilante (who's conveniently named Vigilante) runs at the weekend, when the clubs and bars are busy and the creepy assholes come out to play, preying on and harassing unsuspecting victims who, by the end of the night, are probably too drunk to even remember their faces when they wake up.

The cops know about it, too. They've made weak attempts to shut down his operation over the last couple of months, but really he's doing them a favour. They're already in over their heads with calls when the Friday night crowd hits the town's nightlife, so why not just let him operate under their noses? At least, for now. Until they can apprehend him.

So, yeah. You know of it, but you've never utilised it before, because truthfully you've never really had a reason to. You like to party, but your nights out are usually spent with your girlfriends, keeping a close watch on each other and avoiding interactions with men who look like they're bad news like the plague. It's a system that works, one that keeps you out of trouble and away from bad pick-up lines and hands where you most definitely don't want them to be.

Tonight is different, though.

Your friend bailed on you at the last second, a family emergency, and you were already dressed up, so you decided that instead of wiping off your makeup and changing back into your sweats, you'd go out anyway. What's the worst that could happen?

You soon found out that the worst came in the form of Brett Lucas. A guy you knew in high school, someone you haven't spoken to in years. He found you at the bar, used the shittiest lines you've ever heard, and then bought you a drink. You decided to entertain it, because if he was willing to fund your night, then why not? You kept your hand firmly over your drink while he made derogatory jokes about other women and commented on your body and your dress. When he asked you to dance, you agreed, hoping you'd be able to lose him on the crowded dance floor.

That didn't happen, though. Instead, he got a little too touchy-feely, kept his hands firmly on your hips and pulled your body close to his until he got brave enough to slide them on to your ass and squeeze. Hard. You freaked out, told him to back the fuck off, and instead of showing any remorse, he cussed you out. Called you a fucking slut and told you that you're a bitch for leading him on and making him think he had a chance at getting into your pants.

Now, you're standing just down the street from the club, staring at the oddly professionally made poster that's been flimsily taped to a lamppost, a little picture of the all-too familiar masked man that you've seen on the news and wanted posters right in the middle.

Vigilante Hotline

Have you been a victim of a fucking creep in a club who just won't leave you the fuck alone?

Did the guy at the bar use his worst pick-up line and then immediately assume that you're into him and it's okay to touch you without your consent?

Do you wish you could fuck them up without having to face the consequences yourself?

It's your lucky day, because I can fuck them up for you!

Text their name and/or a description to the number below and I'll make them wish their mom swallowed!

(This part is just to cover my ass so, if I accidentally beat up or kill the wrong person... my bad!)

You chew down on your bottom lip, looking between your phone and the poster. You've never really been a vengeful person, you've never wished harm on anyone or caused harm to anyone, but in this moment, it's tempting. You're a little bit tipsy, irate and unsettled. The one night you decide to go out on your own, and this happens? It's a little too tempting.

But is what happened enough to contact a guy who's known and wanted for murder? Is what he did enough to warrant the beatdown of a lifetime?

You sigh to yourself before slipping your phone back into your purse, deciding that it's not worth it. But as you begin to walk away, you remember his loud, jarring cackle whenever he cracked himself up at his own shitty jokes. The way his eyes never met yours, always trained on your chest or your thighs. His gross, sweaty hands roaming all over your body before they went to grope you on the dance floor, thinking you wouldn't react because you were surrounded by other people and it'd be too embarrassing for you to make a scene.

No. Fuck it. That asshole deserves it.

You spin around quickly and pull out your phone, adding the number to your contacts and quickly typing out a message, sending it before you can even give yourself another second to think it through.

'Hey. First time texting in. Need some help. Brett Lucas. White blonde dyed hair. Awful beard, doesn't match his hair. Around 5'9. Wearing a pink shirt and black jeans. Got handsy with me. Grabbed my ass on the dance floor. Don't kill. Just rough him up a little, please.'

You don't even have a minute to breathe before your phone pings. Fuck. Alright. He's fast.

'Sick. A first time user. Happy to help. Where can I find him? 🧜‍♂️'

'He was in Dazy Nights, downtown. You know where that is?'

30 seconds pass. Your phone pings again.

'Yep. Got it. Thank god for GPS. Don't worry, first timer. I'll fuck him up the ass so hard his he'll wish he'd never even been born, as advertised. Not literally, though. I'm not gonna actually fuck him up the ass. That'd be weird. But not because I'm homophobic. My dad is gay. More because he's a creep and he touched you inappropriately. 🧜‍♂️'

"What..." You mumble under your breath as you read the text, an incredulous giggle escaping you. This guy, whoever he is, is seriously fucked in the head, you decide. A little funny, too. But you can't complain too much. You contacted him, you made the choice to text his number and incite some indirect revenge. So you just shake your head, and text back.

'Thank you. I appreciate it. Again, don't kill. Just get him good.'

'Noted! No problemo. But if you ever do need me to kill, don't hesitate to ask, first timer. Seriously, I'm so down for it. Guys like that deserve it. 🧜‍♂️'

You decide to cut the conversation there, sliding your phone back into your purse. You feel a little sick to your stomach as you walk yourself home, guilt and regret stalking you the entire way, following you into your home and crawling into bed with you.

But as you lay there, wide awake, you remind yourself of what he said. Guys like that deserve it. And maybe he's right. Maybe this is for the best, maybe next time fucking Brett will think twice before making unwanted advances. Maybe you've saved someone else from the suffering the same fate as yourself at his hands.

That thought helps you sleep a little easier.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

Monday rolls around quicker than you'd have liked it to, and all you've been able to think about over the weekend is that short conversation you had with Evergreen's own Vigilante a few nights ago. You spent all of Saturday morning re-reading the messages. Saturday night was spent in front of the TV, with some rom-com you've been meaning to watch playing as background noise while you thought about the messages. Sunday, you tried to distract yourself. You went out for brunch with a few friends, but as soon as you made it through your front door, your mind wandered right back to him and that silly little mermaid emoji that made his threats of murder seem a little lighter.

You wonder if he actually did it; whether he made good on his promise to fuck him up so badly that he'd be wishing he was never born. Part of you hopes he did, that he managed to find that fucker before he made it home and gave him a beating he'll never forget. The other part of you hopes that he missed out on the opportunity, if only to subside the quiet, yet nagging, guilty conscience in your head.

Work is a welcome distraction from the weekends events. Deadlines that need to be met, lunch with your co-workers, and your micro-managing boss that never seems to leave you the fuck alone when you're trying to do your job. It's all incredibly exhausting and boring, but at least it gives you the chance to take your mind off of what happened at the weekend, and the masked vigilante that's been invading your thoughts all weekend.

You haven't thought about it all day, until you pull up to the grocery store after work, and you see him. Brett.

He hasn't seen you, you're safely locked away in your car, but you can see him. He's standing outside the store, cigarette in hand, talking to a guy who you can only assume is one of his friends – he looks like he's just as much of an asshole as Brett. From where you're parked, you can see the shiner of a black eye on his face, dark blue bruising that extends to his forehead. There's numerous cuts and scrapes on his cheeks, and it's looks like his lips have been completely bust up.

It makes you feel slightly ill, looking at him, knowing that you're the one behind this. But at the same time, you can't help but smile to yourself, feeling weirdly... satisfied.

You grab your bag and pull out your phone, unlocking it and scrolling through your texts until you find the chat with the contact you've named 'VH'. You stare at your screen for at least a minute, re-reading the short conversation from Friday night over and over again. You want to text him. Hell, you've found yourself wanting to text him again all weekend, and you can't quite seem to place your finger on why that is. What would you even say to him? 'Hey, thanks for doing at great job at fucking up that guy's face, I really appreciate it'?

With a sigh, you lock your phone, trying to kick the urge to converse with a vigilante to the curb. But before you know it, you're typing in your password again and sending him a 'Hey'.

You keep the chat open, but you make a point out of looking away from the screen, hoping that if you don't look, he'll reply faster. Minutes pass by, and you're slightly disappointed by the absence of the jarring pinging of your notification bell. Then you remember that he probably has a life outside of being Vigilante. He's most likely just a normal guy, with a normal job and friends and family, he probably doesn't spend all of his time checking whatever burner phone he uses to run the hotline.

Just as you're about to lose hope that he'll respond, your phone pings.

'Woah, hey. First timer's a second timer already? Did you get yourself into trouble just so you could talk to me? 🧜‍♂️'

It pings again, a few moments later.

'For the record, that was a joke. If you're in trouble again, I'm sure it's not your fault and I'm more than happy to help. Though I gotta remind you that I usually only do this hotline stuff on weekends, but I'd be more than willing to extend my hours. For you. What can I do for you? 🧜‍♂️'

You feel your face heat up, a grin beginning to creep across your lips as you read the two texts. 'For you'. That's oddly sweet. He's oddly sweet. You know what he's done, you know he kills people. You've heard the whispers around town, stories from the people who've been lucky enough break the law and survive one of Vigilante's attacks. Yet you can't help but be taken in by how... charming he is. Sure, this is only the second conversation you've had with him, but he's been so kind. Funny, too, in his own way.

The rush you get from texting him is intoxicating, and it only makes you want more. So you type out a response, and hit send.

'Nothing! I didn't get in trouble again. I wouldn't want you working overtime for me. But I did wanna talk to you. Just to say thank you for what you did for me. I saw Brett. You got him good. Gave him a real shiner of a black eye.'

Just a minute later.

'HA. Yeah. You should have seen it. He took a real beating. He cried like a fucking BABY. Begged me not to kill him. I made him apologise for harassing women, too. It was HILARIOUS. You were right about the beard, btw. Definitely makes him look even more of an asshole🧜‍♂️'

You're surprised to see a video loading up on your screen.

'He definitely didn't mean it, life or death situations call for desperate measures I guess. But at least you can laugh at him and his stupid fucking face. 🧜‍♂️'

Although you're hesitant to press play, you do so anyway. There, on your screen, is Brett. Beaten and bloody, begging for his life, and apologising through his tears for being a creep. Saying sorry for using bad pick-up lines, and objectifying women's bodies, and... groping asses on the dance floor. You freeze up when you hear that, a wave of panic washing over you. Does he... does he know that you're the one that sent Vigilante after him? Fuck. You didn't even consider the possibility that he'd put two and two together and figure out that it was you who texted in. You have to know if he knows, if Vigilante mentioned anything specific about why he went after Brett.

'You're right. That's funny. But I need to ask you something.'

'Anything! 🧜‍♂️'

'Does Brett know that I'm the one who texted you? Did you mention anything about me or what happened?'

You chew on your bottom lip as you await a response, and when you read his reply, you're more than relieved.

'Nah. I didn't say anything. I wouldn't. Vigilante-client confidentiality, and all that. He was the one that mentioned names. A whole list of them, actually. Kinda concerning how many women he named that could've been the one to contact me about him.🧜‍♂️'

'Okay. Cool. I guess I just never thought of the consequences of texting in. I didn't consider that maybe he'd know it was me. Had me kinda panicked for a sec.'

'Don't worry, I made it clear that if he ever tried to approach or contact you or any of the other women he named, I'd find out. And I'd kill him for it. You're safe. I got you. 🧜‍♂️'

For what feels like the hundredth time in, you find yourself smiling down at your phone as you read his text.

'Thank you. I appreciate that :). Hopefully you've taught him a lesson. Maybe he'll stay home when the weekend comes around. I think he'd be doing everyone a favour.'

'Hopefully! Listen, I gotta buzz. Work stuff. Not Vigilante work. I only do that stuff at night. Like my actual job kind of work. But I'll talk to you later, first timer. 🧜‍♂️'

'Yeah, of course. Sorry for bothering you while you're at work. And thank you, again.'

You take a deep breath before sending another text.

'My name is (Y/N), btw <3'

'First timer has a name? Fucking sweet. Obviously I know you have a name but you never told me, so in my head I've just been calling you first timer. But now you're (Y/N), which is cool. So talk later, (Y/N)! 🧜‍♂️'

'<3 🧜‍♂️'

You throw your phone on to the passenger seat, like it's burning hot to the touch and it's just scalded you. Did you... did you seriously just send a heart to Vigilante? And did he seriously just send one back? Wait, no. The heart isn't the biggest problem. You just told him your name. Your real name. What if he finds you? What if this whole funny-charming-kind thing is just an act, and you end up bleeding in a dark alley within a month?

"Fuck..." You mumble, leaning your head back against your seat, wondering what the hell you've just gotten yourself into. Wondering if you should just block his number and never think about him again.

It's a stupid idea, getting involved with someone like him. One that could leave you hurt, or dead. Anyone would call you crazy for it. You probably are crazy for it. But that's not enough to deter you from reaching for your phone and grinning down at it when he texts you later that night.

'Hey. 🧜‍♂️'

It's a dangerous game, but one that you're more than willing to play.

[krtsvig]

pls i know adrian chase is the hungriest, most passionate kisser

oh for fucking sure. like yeah he has the threesomes with chris, but the mask always stays on so he’s deprived of anything of that nature and when he gets the chance to do ANYTHING more he fucking takes it. i’m dead serious.

leave recs i swear i’ve read almost every adrian fic ever. (if you rec something please nothing with a non-con tag)

[anabimelo]

been rewatching so here’s a sketch

[lisholoz]

Returning from the dead to post Peacemaker memes

[badpanini]

peacemaker art from early january that instagram loved

[plzu]

the one in which you are very much not sick - (adrian chase x reader)

A/N: quick sick fic. don't let the banner fool you, this is more silly than fluff. but! it's still fluff nonetheless.

Summary: you make it rather difficult for Adrian to take care of you when you're sick.

Wordcount: 1.3k

“I’m fine,” you say. “I’m normal.” The gravitas of your tight-lipped assurance is nulled by the stuffiness of your nose and glassy look in your eye. Unfocused glare, downtrodden by exhaustion, failing to phase Adrian even a little bit.

“You and I both know you’re not fine,” he reprimands. He places a glass of ginger ale on the coffee table, in front of where you’re curled up on the couch. 

“I hate ginger ale,” you whine. Because you cannot help it. 

“See, and that’s how I know you’re not normal, either. Sick people love ginger ale. Even healthy people like ginger ale.”

“I’d rather die than drink that.”

“You’re being very dramatic.”

You can’t help that, either.

Having a cold reduces you to a bratty baby again. You are a stubborn child. Years of maturing and surpassing puberty mean nothing when your head feels so clogged up, the pressure incessant behind your eyes. You’re also extra irritable because it is the one night Adrian has off. No Fennel Fields, no task force missions. It was supposed to be your special night. Go out on a date, eat terribly greasy foods, suck face. 

Now the only face-sucking is whatever your nose is doing with each wet, icky sniffle.

“Why can’t we just go out?” you pout. “I’m really not that sick. I promise. We can even just do a drive-thru and sit in a parking lot or something.”

Each word is punctuated by bubbles of stuffiness, and does little to help convince Adrian that you’re not that sick.

Adrian’s hands rests on his hips, and he gives you a pointed look. “You really don’t want to go out looking like that.”

You blink slowly up at him.

“Seriously, you look terrible.”

Your eyebrows scrunch together.

“This is the worst I’ve ever seen you. You look disgusting, actually.”

Your jaw drops open, completely affronted.

“That’s mean, Adrian.”

“I know, I’m so sorry,” he says in a desperate rush, eyes growing big with guilt behind his glasses.

“You’ve been hanging around Chris too much,” you grumble, burying further into the quilt that’s wrapped around your shoulders. Desire to leave the house be damned, you will be the most snuggliest burrito in all of Evergreen.

“I just thought that if I switched tactics, you’d drop it. You hate going out when you don’t think you look good.”

“But our daaate,” you wail, giving into pathetic poutiness. 

Exasperation crosses Adrian’s face as he helplessly looks around, gears in his head turning. Adrian would do just about anything for you, but your needs are kind of clashing with your wants right now, so he has to come up with some sort of compromise.

Finally, he has an idea for how to give you what you want while also getting you to do what he needs you to do. He calls your name to get your droopy eyes back on him.

“Okay, we’re still going to have our date.”

This intrigues you. You halfheartedly perk up, waiting for the ‘but.’

“We can have our date right here, without leaving the house,” he continues. “But-” (there it is) “we can’t start our date until you take one sip of your ginger ale. Just one,” he presses, ignoring the disgusted scrunching of your face. “Pretty please? For me?”

Unfortunately, you are not immune to the green, imploring eyes of Adrian Chase.

And so you take a wretched little sip of ginger ale, and you make sure to make a big to-do about it. You may have complied to his demands, but you will make sure Adrian knows that this is absolute torture. 

Adrian just rolls his eyes. 

“It cannot possibly be that bad.”

He’s right. It isn’t actually that bad. But you were griping and moaning about it so much, it’d feel silly if you drank it like it wasn’t an insult to your taste buds. 

“I did what you asked. Can we start our date now?”

“Yes, yes we can,” Adrian nods, a satisfied smile gracing his lips as he holds his hand up, index finger pointed out at you. “And like a good date, I am going to make you some dinner.”

You gasp, eyes sparkling as much as they can behind their heavy lids. “Chocolate cake,” you breathe.

“No. What?”

“I always crave chocolate cake when I’m sick.”

“You’re really not good at taking care of yourself,” Adrian notes with a sort of fond exasperation. But then his eyes widen with realization as your words dawn on him, and he points with an exclamation of, “Ah-hah! So you admit you’re sick!”

You shut your mouth, too little too late in keeping the comment to yourself. But then your lips part again, unable to properly breathe through your nose at the moment and needing the relief of oxygen to filter through chapped lips. Your gaze slinks away from his, defeated. 

With an appeased little head bob, Adrian continues: “No. I’m making you chicken noodle soup.” 

He pauses. Takes in the watery look of your eyes. How feeble and pouty you look, wrapped up in a blanket, leaning miserably against the arm of the sofa because sitting up straight requires too much effort on your ailing body. And then he sighs. “If you drink the rest of your ginger ale, I’ll get you chocolate cake for dessert.”

Hope lightens your features, but then your brow knits in consternation and wars with that hope, and you cast the most dreary of glances towards the fizzy light amber liquid in the glass in front of you. And then, with a heavy slump of your shoulders as though Adrian asked you to saw your arm off for him, you nod. You will drink the ginger ale if it means having a piece of cake. You will do this one thing. You concede. You yield.

“Seriously, you’re being way too dramatic.”

You did not realize you were complaining out loud again.

By the time Adrian returns with two bowls of soup, you completed the dreadful task of finishing the ginger ale. He places the bowls down on the coffee table, warns you to wait for it to cool, and takes the empty glass back to the kitchen with him. When he returns, it’s with a bottle of hot sauce for your soup. This makes you perk up. He remembered like you having your soup with hot sauce; you nearly cry with gratitude, and almost (but not quite) feel bad for all your grousing.

“Did you decide what movie you want to watch?” Adrian asks as he settles in next to you on the couch. 

You instinctively scooch closer to him on the couch so that your hips press against his. “Hm? Movie?”

“Yeah. Y’know, for our date? Dinner and a movie?” Adrian provides matter-of-factly.

You laugh, but it turns into a cough--one that you hide inside your blanket. Meekly, you request 13 Going on 30.

“Good choice, babe.” Adrian commends with utmost seriousness, and puts on the movie with barely-repressed enthusiasm. You might die giggling in your soup.

The soup is just as comforting as the movie, makes the sick taste that lingers in your mouth more bearable.The salt of it satisfies your taste buds, and the heat of it works open your sinuses. So that by the time you get to the end of the movie, when Jenna sees Matty on his wedding day and she cries, you are full on weeping without any obstructions. 

You end up falling asleep, sniffling, with your head on Adrian’s shoulder. Bowl of soup abandoned on the table, spoon resting in the leftover dregs at the bottom of the dish. Adrian gazes at what he can of your face with unfettered adoration, smiling in awe. Even with snot dripping from your nose, which is admittedly pretty gross, he can’t help but think you’re the cutest thing in the world. 

When you wake up a bit later, you’re lying fully on your side, couch to yourself, no longer supported by Adrian’s body. You crack open bleary eyes to a plate of chocolate cake.

You’ve definitely had worse dates, you think, heart feeling full.

taglist: @whatevermonkey

[alraedesigns]

"I'm getting this weird feeling that you're angry." - PEACEMAKER S1E06 (2022)

Watercolor pencils and ink, 8x11

[univemma]

I HAVE TO WAIT ANOTHER 2 YEARS TO SEE MY BABYGIRL AGAIN

WHEN WILL HE RETURN FROM THE WARRR

[honeycombstrawberry]

healing hearts

pairing: adrian chase x gn reader (established relationship) rating: gen+ word count: 2,688 one-sentence synopsis: adrian assumes the worst when he hasn't heard from you in a couple of days, even though you've only been home sick with the flu. author's note: i have been. so very sick. take care of me adrian chase

>> read on ao3!! <<

There’s an incessant pounding coming from— somewhere.

You’re not totally sure what the source of the noise is. Actually, you’re not even entirely sure that it’s not completely in your own head. It’s certainly hurt bad enough for the last— you lift your head to squint at the bleary numbers on your bedside clock— two days that you could be hearing a pounding by now, to reflect the pounding ache inside of it.

Checking the clock again, just to be sure, you verify— yeah, you’ve been asleep off and on for about two days, now. You don’t know what monster flu you caught, but it’s completely knocked the wind out of you.

You’ve had pretty much no energy since you got back home from work the other day and immediately crashed. The entire time you’d been on shift, you’d started feeling worse and worse; on the commute home, you’d nearly had to stop and vomit on the side of the road several times. It’d been a miracle you made it home in one piece at all, let alone managing to drag yourself into bed.

Since then, you’ve been alternating between struggling to get anything into your body, struggling to keep it there, and— sleeping, mostly. Lots of sleeping. It’s felt almost impossible to stay awake, your body continuously attempting to turn itself off to heal itself.

Your aching head is still throbbing in time with what you’ve determined is definitely an outside-source sort of knocking-pounding.

“Hello?” you try to ask, but your voice is scratchy with disuse and illness. Trying to clear it just hurts, so you give up, grimacing as you push yourself upright. You rasp, “Hold on,” but whoever’s knocking doesn’t hear you, or otherwise doesn’t care.

Your joints hurt like hell, but you manage to get yourself on your feet and moving in the direction of your front door. It definitely takes longer than it would normally; you’ve only made it to your bedroom doorway when you hear a bafflingly loud crash from down the hall, your head splitting with the sudden jarring noise of it.

Instinctively, you push the heels of your hands into your eyes, then drag them up until you can grip onto your hair, for a moment, head throbbing.

“Where are you?” you hear a voice down the hall, and you’re simultaneously relieved and incredibly confused that it’s Adrian. “What the fuck— What the fuck—”

“What?” you ask, your voice still cracking, leaning in your bedroom doorway.

Adrian whirls at the sound you make— barely a word, really, but loud enough to be heard this time, at least— and you’re not prepared for how upset he looks. The expression on his face is inexplicably devastated, agonized with the sort of emotion you don’t really expect to see outside of the direst of scenarios. Even, really— Even then, Adrian’s got a smile on his face, most of the time.

Not now, though. Now, he’s half-dressed in his Vigilante gear, and panicked, and running down the hallway towards you before you can even try to process that he’s here, let alone what the hell is happening right now.

Without hesitating, he wraps you right up in his arms, burying his face in your throat. His hold is tight, and your muscles all ache, but it almost feels good, in a pressure sort of way. The way it settles something inside your chest, too, isn’t something to be ignored; you feel a little bit better just for not being alone, just for having him here. You’re not— Your relationship isn’t serious serious, but you—

He still means a lot to you, more than you think anybody else in your life means to you, at this point. He’s still a source of comfort to you; he still makes you feel better. You hope your relationship will become more serious— maybe even serious serious— but it’s not there yet. But—

Still, here’s Adrian, gripping you so tightly it feels like your ribs move. You hug him back, even though you’re a little confused.

“What’s wrong?” you ask him. Your congestion and scratching throat make you slightly incoherent, but he still seems to understand what you’re saying.

“What’s wrong?” Adrian asks. “What’s wr— I thought you were dead.”

“Why the f—” you start, but then start coughing, your voice too abruptly sharp and rough for your throat, right now. Adrian backs up a little bit, panicked, when you bring your arm up, covering your face as you cough and struggle to breath, for a moment. You nearly end up gagging, at the end, but there’s really nothing in your stomach, so you manage to straighten out again after a moment, dizzy and frowning.

“What’s wrong with you?” Adrian asks, quickly. “Something’s wrong. What happened? Did you get poisoned, is that what this is? Poison? Did someone hurt you? Did—”

“Adrian,” you cut him off, head throbbing. You immediately feel a surge of over-emotional guilt for interrupting him, your illness-addled brain bringing up too much unnecessary feeling in response. Almost tearfully, and embarrassed because of it, you say, “I’m sorry—”

“No, don’t apologize,” Adrian says. “I’m sorry, I should be— I should be quieter, sorry. What can I do? What’s wrong, what happened?”

“Nothing,” you tell him. At his incredulous expression, you tell him, “I’m just sick. It’ll pass.” You hesitate, thinking you’re going to sneeze, but it doesn’t happen, which is kind of worse. Frowning, now, you say, “I just feel like shit.”

Adrian pauses, looking like he wants to push back into you at the same time that he’s not sure he’s allowed to. After a beat, he asks, “Why didn’t you— I tried calling? You didn’t answer.”

You glance backwards into your room, at the bag that you’d dropped on the floor the second you got home. Your phone hadn’t ended up anywhere near its charger, nor your hand; you’d completely forgotten about it, honestly. It’s probably been dead for over a day by now.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, feeling genuinely apologetic, new guilt coursing through you. Your voice almost breaks when you say, “I didn’t mean to, I was just sleeping,” and you flash with an embarrassed heat because of it, forcing you to flush hotter than your fever’s already brought you.

“Oh, hey, it’s okay,” Adrian says. His face is crumpling, tone softening; you feel bad for being the reason it’s there, even if you’re not entirely sure why it’s here at all. “Don’t be upset, I’m not mad, I’m— I was just worried about you, and, like, you didn’t call or message or even, like, view my messages, and I didn’t think I’d done anything wrong but if I had I wanted to give you your space, but then nobody else heard from you and you haven’t posted anything and I was starting to panic a little bit that something happened, or someone took you, or they hurt you because of me, or that maybe you would—”

He cuts himself off, this time, chest heaving. He’s visibly agitated, practically vibrating in front of you, when he lifts his eyes to meet yours. You’re surprised to see the fear in them, and the hurt, because everything— everything is fine. It’s going to be alright; things like this happen. Really, it’s no big deal. People get sick. It’ll be fine.

Adrian, though—

Adrian didn’t know that.

Your chest clenches, your heart doing a strange sort of squeeze at the idea of not hearing from Adrian at all for two days, at the concept of him just dropping off the grid and not responding for no apparent reason. You’d—

In his line of work— or, his preferred line of work— you probably would have assumed the same thing. It hurts something in you, that his fear for you made him this terrified, that your absence rattled him this badly.

“I’m sorry,” he says, mistaking your silence. “I didn’t mean to talk so much again, you probably have a headache, and I’m—” He huffs a laugh that doesn’t sound all that amused, says, “I’m not making it any better, probably. Fuck, I’m sorry. Is there— Can I get you anything? Or I can just go— Actually, yeah, I should probably just g—”

“No,” you insist immediately. You reach out to grab onto him again, tilting right into him. Maybe your relationship isn’t serious serious, but it’s serious enough to be intimate; he wraps his arms around you in return without hesitating, kissing the side of your head. “I’m really sorry.”

“No, don’t be,” he replies. “You’re sick, I shouldn’t— I was being clingy, I didn’t want—”

“No, you’re not,” you tell him. You don’t mean to interrupt again, but you can’t let him think this was anything but what it actually is. “It’s not clingy to want to hear from me. I’d be scared if I didn’t hear from you, either.” You bury yourself in his chest, taking comfort from him. You’re starting to get more exhausted, the longer you stand upright, your joints and spine and muscles and— everything aching; you trust him to hold you upright, though. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to do that, I just kind of— fell asleep. And I haven’t been awake that much. I’m— That was stupid. I should’ve thought—”

“Hey, no, come on, don’t do that,” Adrian says. “Sorry, I just— It’s not your fault. You just— You’re sick, you’re allowed to be sick. It’s shitty. I’m not— I don’t— I shouldn’t assume, just because I’m not here doesn’t mean—”

He stops again; you can feel the tension in his body, muscles tight. His armor’s hanging off him in pieces; the rest of it, you assume, is in his car. You wonder what his intentions were if he hadn’t found you here— if he’d thought you were missing and went out searching for you as Vigilante. You’ll have to ask him about those plans, another day; you’re a little intrigued by the instinctive protective streak in him.

For now, though, you’re trying to figure out the tension in what he isn’t saying, not what he isn’t doing. You think over his words for only a second before you get it, all of it clicking into place, a puzzle that fits until it’s a picture you can understand.

“Maybe now’s not the best time,” you say, half-incoherent through your throat and sinuses and emotion and everything else, “but maybe we could think about living closer. Like— together.” His arms automatically tighten around you, his face coming down to bury in his hair. “If you wanted. When I’m feeling better.”

“I’ll move in right now if you want,” Adrian answers immediately. “I’ll— Are you sure? You sure you’re not, like, fucked up on cold medicine? Do you know what you’re saying? What year is—”

“Adrian,” you laugh, even though it makes your chest tight. You can’t help it; it just happens, even through your sickness. “Yeah, I’m sure.” You push your face closer into his shoulder. “It’ll make it easier next time one of us’s sick.”

“So much easier,” Adrian insists. Without missing a beat, he ducks down to scoop you up. It’s so effortless for him, it’s as though you weigh nothing at all; you’re standing, and then you’re airborne, swept up in his arms. “Plus, then we can, like, hang out. We can hang out all the time. And we can— We can watch TV together! And movies! And we can make dinner together, and learn to, like— I don’t know, we can have— hobbies, and go places on the weekend, and decorate together, and I can—” He sets you down in bed again, his monologue broken for a moment when he presses a kiss to your overheated forehead. “—Yikes, you’re hot— and we can get a dog, maybe, or something like a— I don’t know, something cool, like a— house horse or something— And I can see you all the time and I’ll wake up every morning and you’ll be here with me.”

Adrian collapses down in bed beside you, at the end of it all, and you automatically turn towards him, seeking his comfort. You feel cold, even though you know you’re warm; his skin is so nice against yours, and you push for more of it, shoving pieces of his uniform out of the side to get at more of his flesh, desperate for the comfort of him, to feel better.

“As long as you’re sure,” Adrian adds, at the end of it all.

“I’m sure,” you tell him, already halfway back to sleeping.

“Oh, man, I should probably, like— do something,” Adrian says. Before you can ask what he actually means by that, he says, “Do you want soup, or something? I can make chicken, or—”

“Stop,” you tell him, your weak stomach turning at the thought of eating something right now.

He sees the color drain from your face and pulls you back in to rest against him, your head on his chest, ear over his heart.

“Maybe later,” he allows. “I’ll get you some water, though, maybe? Or I can help you change your clothes, or get you comfy. Want me to plug in your phone? Or bring you to the living room, and then you can watch the TV in there if you wanted, or if you wanted to take a shower, maybe, or a bath—” He stops himself, then. After a beat where he seems to think so loudly you can hear the gears turning in his head, he asks, “What do you want, though?”

You’re already most of the way back into what you want, right now. Half-asleep, you tell him, “I just wanna rest a little while,” muffled by his chest. You yawn, jaw cracking, the soft material of his undershirt shifting beneath your face as you do. “I want you.” Tightening your fingers around him, you ask, “Would you—”

“Yes, yeah, obviously,” Adrian answers, before your question is even finished. “I’ll be right here. Whole time, not going anywhere.” He kisses the top of your head. “You get some sleep. Your body needs it, you rest. I’ll keep an eye out for you. On you. Keep an eye on you.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, exhausted. You can feel some stirring sort of excitement in the back of your chest, something that’ll probably come into full bloom once you’re healthy and coherent and awake enough to process that the two of you are going to be moving in together. “Can I have a hug?”

Adrian huffs an amused little laugh that sounds so impossibly fond that you want to melt inside of it. You can’t help loving him, hearing the love in his voice.

“Of course you can,” he says. He tugs you in tighter, arms wrapping closer around you, holding you near to his chest. “How’s that? That better?”

It’s so nice. It’s so nice, and so comforting, and you feel so much better— in your heart, and mind, and soul, if not in your body— and you can’t help the next words falling out of your mouth. It feels like he loves you, and you know that you love him, so you murmur, “Lots better. Thanks. Love you.”

Beneath your ear, Adrian’s heart starts speeding up impossibly quickly, faster and faster, thudding harder and harder. You’re already falling back asleep; you’re not coherent enough to realize what’s happening, or even what you’ve said to him.

“What?” he asks, but you’re completely unconscious again. Your head on his chest, eyes closed, breath evening out though it rasps through your tight chest and throat.

Belatedly, he realizes you’ve fallen asleep. He doesn’t know if you know what you’ve said, or if you mean it, but— it feels like you do. It does. And he realizes, then, the words that match the feelings he’s been feeling this entire time: he loves you, too.

You’re fast asleep, and you don’t hear him, but he says, voice half-hushed, grinning, “I love you, too,” and tightens his grip on you, kissing the top of your head again, keeping you held close.

-

adrian chase taglist, pt. 1

@deputyrook @bb-skyrunner @himboelover @pieriinova @gcldtom @violetrainbow412-blog @amysuemc @saturnngal @neptuneswritingwork @jewishdelis @myguiltypleasures21 @pinkygunslingy @chaseadrian @breathing-in-waves @rishlurh @goblynnrockz @theowritesstuff @themartiansdaughter @dallasvakarian @missscarlettangel @samantha24015 @hillaryroadheadcllinton @ohmybubbletea @buckys-estrella @witchywcmans @ladyrebel25 @eviejune @vigilantesluvr @qjuiq-odakyu @xothatnerdykid @awkwardfangirl2014 @thevalkyrior @mattsmanpain @sunflowerfive @deirdre-belle @anthonyedwinstark @sexysquatch @jelliebeanss @zofps @crimscnrains

[rishlurh]

11th Street Puffs

yeah i powerpuff-ed them-

please look at peacemaker's helmet and adrian's little mole

[vigilvntes]

A Little Company – Adrian Chase x Reader

A/N: this is a prequel to I got so fucking romantic, I apologise (which you can find on my masterlist!!) like this is quite literally just a fic of how vigilante and shadow from that fic met. you don't have to read the other fic, like at all! it's totally optional! but vigilante!reader x adrian is my favourite thing, and i have SO many ideas for this concept, including a direct follow on from this fic so if you want it?! let me know?!

feel free to send me fic/headcanon requests !!!

likes and rbs are appreciated <3

W/C: 4k+

Warnings: language, violence (use of knives, guns etc), mentions of kidnapping, vigilante being a Weird Little Guy™️

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

“Hey, what're you doing?”

You don't panic. Instead, you drop your sniper from your shoulder quickly, cringing slightly when it hits the concrete of the rooftop. You stand up and twist your body, stepping away from the edge of the rooftop to press a gun up to the masked forehead of your interruptor. It seems he had the same idea, as his gun is firmly pressed against the black leather of your mask before you can even blink.

“Who the fuck are you?” You hiss.

“Who the fuck are you?!”

“I asked first, motherfucker! I swear you better tell me who you are and why the fuck you're here or I won't hesitate to pull the trigger.” You threaten, gripping your gun tighter. Your finger brushes over the trigger. A warning.

“Maybe I won't hesitate either.” He retorts.

“Then. Don't.”

The two of you stare at each other for a few moments. Well, you assume he's staring right back at you, the red visor covering his eyes makes it hard to tell. Eventually, he lets out a quiet sigh, “Fuck. Fine.” He raises his gun-free hand, showing you that he's somewhat surrendered. “You're fuckin’ hardcore.”

“Tell me who you are.” You demand. He may have relented pretty quickly, but he has one last chance to explain who he is before you decide it's not worth the trouble and blow his brains out.

“Vigilante.”

“Vigilante?” You scoff. It has to be the most stupid, on the nose name you've ever heard.

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “My friends call me Vig. But we're not friends, so you can't call me that.”

Yeah, no shit, you think.

“And let me guess, you're a vigilante?” You mock, fighting back the urge to laugh with all of your strength. You feel slightly bad when you notice his shoulders sink. But then you remember that he interrupted your mission, and then you feel slightly less bad about it.

‘Vigilante’ drops the gun from your forehead. “Yeah, and what about it? I bet your name isn't any better!” He sounds genuinely offended.

You return the favour and drop your arm. “Really? Because I don't think it can get any worse than ‘Vigilante’. I mean, that's so uncreative, man. And it's a shame, because I'm actually really digging the suit.”

He visibly tenses, “Oh. You like my suit?” His hands pat at the utility belt sitting on his waist and the coloured stripes on his chest. “I made it myself.” He tells you, sounding almost shy about it. You can hear the smile in his voice, though.

“Yeah. It's really cool, actually. I like the visor. Does it… do anything?”

Vigilante tucks his gun back into his belt, swaying on his heels slightly. “Nah. I mean, I wear glasses so… it's a prescription visor. That's all it does. Helps me see.”

You can't fight off the giggle that escapes from your throat, so you allow it. Just this once. “Your visor is prescription?! Dude, you have to be shitting me.”

He breathes out a laugh, “Yeah. It was a pain in the ass to get a hold of. I almost exposed my secret identity, like, three times.”

You nod, somewhat sympathetic to his situation. “Yeah, I can imagine.” You know all about almost exposing your secret identity. Having multiple black leather masks delivered to your house every month is probably a cause for concern. You're sure your delivery service, and even your neighbours, either think you're a murderer (which isn't exactly untrue) or a dominatrix.

“Uh, your suit is cool, too. It's… fitting. Not in that way, though. I just mean that… It suits you! Not that I would really know since I haven't seen your face and we've only just met. It's also fitting in the other way, just in case you were wondering. It hugs your body just right.” He nods once, an affirmation of his words before he awkwardly folds his arms across his chest. You just stare at him for a few moments.

You're not sure why you're talking to him, or why you're allowing him to overstay his welcome like this (not that you'd given him a warm welcome anyway). Anyone else would have been dead at your feet within minutes if they pulled a gun on you like he did. But Vigilante is… surprisingly charming. There's an awkwardness about him, but the charm is definitely there. Not to mention he's made you laugh. Sure, you were laughing at him more than with him, but it's still a point in his favour.

You shake your head, stopping your own thoughts before they wander any further. You still have a mission to complete. “Well, it's been nice talking to you. I have to, uh… Get back to it.” You tell him, using your thumb to gesture over your shoulder.

“Yeah. Yeah. Cool.” Vigilante nods at you, giving you a thumbs up before nervously scratching at the back of his neck.

“Cool…” You say under your breath. You turn your attention away from him and pick up your sniper, hoisting it back over your shoulder again. You hear no footsteps, but you assume he's gone. Maybe he's just light on his feet.

So, you kneel down at the edge of the rooftop and look through the scope. A wave of relief rushes through your body when you see that the men you had been tailing through Evergreen all night, the bastards who currently have a young woman tied up in the trunk of their car, are still standing outside of the abandoned building across the street. They're still waiting for their contact to arrive. They're still an easy target. If you shot one of them right now, and the other ran, you're confident in your ability to take him down before he could even make it halfway down the street. You take a deep breath to steady yourself and set your sights perfectly, just two seconds away from pulling the trigger. And then—

“So what are we doing?”

You drop your rifle for the second time tonight, your shot once again ruined by fucking Vigilante. When you turn your head, you see him knelt down beside you, observing the scene. Shaking your head incredulously, you scoff, “We are not doing anything. I— Why are you still here?” He's well and truly overstayed his welcome, and you're getting pissed off.

“I don't know. Figured I could help.” He mumbles, shrugging his shoulders casually.

“I don't need your help.” You spit back.

“In my defence, I never said you needed my help. Maybe I just wanna help? I can be your backup. Not— Not that you need backup. I'm sure you can handle it on your own. But those guys look tough— Not that you're not tough, either. I just don't really have anything to do tonight. My buddy’s banging a girl he met at a bar last night and—...”

A harsh sigh from you cuts him off. “Those guys have a woman in the trunk of their car. I don't know who she is, but I can only assume they're planning to sell her or kill her. I found out about their plans earlier tonight from a contact of mine but I couldn't stop them from taking her in time. So I’m stopping them now. Satisfied?” You give him a pointed look.

He nods, and your gaze lingers on him for a moment longer before you go back to looking down the scope, lining up your aim.

“Hey, you never told me your name.”

“Vigilante…” Your voice is low. A warning. This is a race against time and you can't allow yourself to be distracted like this for much longer. If the girl was taken inside, your job would get a whole lot harder. You want to avoid that, if possible.

A quiet, “Sorry.”

Sighing for what feels like the hundredth time, you mumble, “Shadow. You can call me Shadow.”

“Shadow?!” He exclaims suddenly, making you jump slightly. You can only hope he didn't catch that.

“Yeah…?”

“You ripped on me for Vigilante and your name is Shadow?!”

You look over at him, your mouth agape, “Are you kidding me?! Shadow is a fucking cool name! It's simple and effective!”

It's Vigilante’s turn to laugh now, and boy is he rubbing it in. He leans back on his heels, his hands clutching at his stomach. “And let me guess, you're called Shadow because you kill in the shadows?” He mocks, throwing his head back as he laughs.

“Oh, I'll be killing you in the shadows if you don't shut the fuck up.” You threaten. If looks could kill, Vigilante would be dead ten times over. Oh, how you wish looks could kill.

“I just don't understand how you could possibly think that ‘Shadow’ is a cooler name than Vigilante.”

You roll your eyes, glancing back down the scope, “I don't understand why you th– Fuck.”

“What is it?”

The men are gone. The car is, to your relief, still parked up outside of the building. You can only assume the woman is in there with them, and their contact has arrived. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fucking FUCK. The last thing you wanted was for them to move their business inside.

Your job just got a lot harder.

You stand up quickly (your sniper hitting the ground for the third time), sheathing your knife and pointing it at Vigilante. He lets out an ‘oh fuck’ as he scrambles backwards, away from the knife that's currently a mere ten centimetres away from his face.

“I could fucking kill you. Right here, right now.” You hiss, venom laced into your tone. You're seeing red. It's tempting to just plunge the knife right into his skull.

“Me?! Why me?!” He squeaks out, looking up at you from the ground.

“Because you fucking distracted me! If you weren't here then I could've had this whole thing finished by now!” You want to scream in frustration. This is just one of the many reasons why you always work alone. Why you don't see the point or the appeal in having a partner anymore. Alone, you're completely in control. You don't have to look out for anyone else, and there's less opportunity for distraction. “I should've killed you the minute I saw you, because now I'm paying the price for being nice. I should kill you right now…” You pause, your breathing heavy and angry, nostrils flaring as you curse yourself internally for what you're about to say. “But I won't. Because I could use some help.”

He's silent for a moment, then he carefully asks, “You… You want me to help you?”

You roll your eyes and shove your knife back into its holster, “Yes.”

“Y–You need my help?” He stutters over his words, and if you were in any other situation, you might have found it kind of cute. Unfortunately for both of you, you're not.

“I don't need your help. I can handle myself. What I said is that I could use your help. It'd be useful to me.” You pat your body down quickly, accounting for all of your weapons. Gun number one? Check. Gun number two? Check. Knives? Check. Extra ammo? Check. You'll come back for the sniper. “And if you ask me to repeat myself for a third time, I'm gonna change my mind.” And I might just kick you right off the rooftop.

You don't even give him a chance to ask again, because you're already halfway across the rooftop, making your way to the shaky ladders you climbed to get up there earlier in the night. It's only when you turn your body and carefully place your foot on the top step, hands gripping the rusty bars, that you realise he isn't following you. He's just staring at you from where you left him on the hard concrete. “Well? Are you coming?” You demand a final answer.

“Fuck yeah, I am.” He mumbles, picking up his gun before scrambling to his feet and following you.

You both scale down the ladder, quickly descending until your feet hit the ground. That's when you start to panic, just a little bit. You prefer to be on higher ground, to have some kind of territorial advantage over your targets. It's not that you're bad at ground work, you just like to keep your hands as clean as possible. Literally.

Vigilante joins you on the ground, and the two of you get moving. You make your way around the building you'd been perched on only minutes ago, pressing your body against the wall on the corner when you reach the street, hiding yourselves in the shadows.

It's quiet. Buzzing streetlights and Vigilante’s quiet breathing is the only thing you can hear. Your own racing heartbeat, too. But you want to forget about the anxiety that's burrowed itself into the pit of your stomach. You can see the abandoned building. It's directly across the street from you, and the door is closed. You'll have to find your own way in. A window that you can shimmy through or another door around the back with a lock you can quietly pick at. Then you'll have to figure out how to not cause a commotion. You'll have to be stealthy, making a point to not—

“This kinda feels like a date.” Vigilante’s voice throws you off, ruins your concentration. You take your eyes off of the building and glance up at him with narrowed eyes, brows furrowed under your mask. He continues, “The more I think about it, this kinda is a date.”

“How is this a date?” You ask, bewildered because never in your life would you take rescuing a girl from a group of kidnappers to be a date.

“I don't know. I mean, this whole situation is kinda romantic, if you think about it. It could be classed as a date.” He shrugs.

"Romantic? Really?"

"Yeah. When you pulled the knife on me it was, like, the hottest thing I've ever seen. I honestly thought you were gonna kill me, but you didn't. And now I get to think about that moment forever. That's romance."

Vigilante has stunned you into silence. You can only stare up at him, mouth agape as he looks down at you. You're hoping he'll burst into laughter, and tell you that his warped idea of romance is just a joke. That he's just playing around. But he doesn't, so you just tell him, "This is not a date. I don't even know who you are.”

“Uh, yeah. You do. I’m Vigilante.” He tells you, sounding ever so slightly offended that you might have forgotten his name in the twenty minutes you've known him.

“That's not what I meant. I don't know who you really are. And you don't know who I am.”

Vigilante scoffs, “That's so irrelevant. Our alter-egos know each other and they could totally date. Like in those spy movies. The ones where the main characters hate each other but they're forced to work together under their alter-egos and eventually they fall madly in love.” He lets out a sigh that almost sounds… dreamy. As if he believes that this scenario is going to play out exactly that way.

You're hellbent on telling him otherwise. “This isn't a date. There's gonna be no falling madly in love, or whatever. You ruined my plan, and now you're helping me. And when we're finished here, we go our separate ways. That's the end of this story.”

Unfortunately, you and Vigilante make a pretty good team.

You were so hoping he'd be useless. That you had an excuse to never want to see him again after tonight. But you soon found out that he's smart, strategic. Capable. As soon as the two of you entered the building, he was focused and driven. That quirky persona he had before was no more. Vigilante was more than happy to take the lead for you; he snuck up behind the fuckers who kidnapped the woman and drove his knife into their skulls with precision and an alarming amount of stealth, holding his hand over their mouths until he was sure they weren't breathing anymore.

You didn't mind this arrangement, the less literal blood on your hands, the better.

Eventually, the two of you come to a halt outside of a small room right at the back of the building. You press your ear up against the wooden door, cursing when you hear a male voice coming from inside followed by muffled whimpers and cries.

“She's in there. With the contact.” You whisper to Vigilante. The guys you'd been tailing through Evergreen are already dead, lying in a puddle of their own blood near the entrance. You can only assume the fucker they were planning to sell the girl to is the owner of the voice.

“Want me to go in and fuck him up?” He whispers back.

You think about it for a moment. These guys have been pissing you off all night. You've been through a lot of trouble to save this girl. Of course, you don't mind. If it means she's safe, that's all that matters to you. But you would like to get the final blow. So, you reply, “No. I got this.”

Slowly, you take your knife out of your holster, and before you can even think about talking yourself out of it, you kick the door. It swings open violently, hitting the wall with a loud crash and you're sure you broke at least one of the hinges. Who cares? It's not like the building’s going to be used for anything other than criminal activity.

The man inside lets out a loud and confused ‘what the fuc–', but you move too quickly for him. You kick in his knees before he can even think about turning around or creating his own plan of attack. He's on his knees, wide-eyed and panicked, and you have one arm wrapped around his neck to hold him in place while the other holds your knife, pressing against the tender, stubbly skin of his neck.

He's younger than you expected him to be. When you heard the woman was being sold to a contact, you expected him to be some sick freak in his mid 50s. But no, he's probably younger than you; and given the way he's thrashing around in your hold, he's probably more inexperienced than you.

He's working for someone, and you'll find a way to get it out of him.

The woman is in the corner, watching the scene with wide eyes and muffled screams coming from her duct taped mouth. You give her a slow nod, trying to reassure her that you're not here to kill her. That you're on her side and you will get her out of here. She seems to calm down ever so slightly.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck. P–Please don't kill me. I–I’ll do anything. Anything you want. You can have the girl. You can have whatever you want. Money? Do you want money? I–I can pay you! Please I— I have kids.” The man begs, his voice shaking.

“Ew. Why would we want your kids?” Vigilante asks from behind you, and the sudden appearance of a second voice only makes him panic more.

You can't help but roll your eyes at his squirming and pleading. “Why did you take her?” You ask.

“I– I don't know. I don't know anything. I swear!” He tells you.

Of course you don't believe that, so you press your knife against his neck harder, nicking at the skin, making sure you draw some blood. He lets out a sob, and in response Vigilante lets out a quiet laugh. “I don't believe you. Why did you take her?” You ask again.

“I– I don't know. I– I was just told to collect her. I think she– She tried to sell us out. Boss wanted to–”

“Boss?” You ask slowly. So he is working for someone.

“Oh fuck. I'm fucking dead. He's gonna kill me. He's gonna fucking KILL ME.”

Vigilante approaches now, kneeling down in front of the man. He places a hand on his shoulder, a reassuring gesture. “Buddy, no. He's not gonna kill you. You don't have to worry about that.” For a moment you're confused. You didn't take Vigilante to be the sympathetic type. But then he says, “Because we're gonna kill you first.”

Ah. That makes more sense.

“Who are you working for?” You tighten your grip on his neck, your knife pressing into his skin harder. If you have to kill him before you find anything out, you will; you'd just prefer to get at least something from him. He stays quiet, only whimpering and sobbing quietly to himself. “Look, you're as good as dead anyway. You might as well tell me which asshole you're working for.”

A moment more of silence. You're just about to drag your knife across his throat when he shouts, “Scorpion! I'm working for Scorpion! The girl– She– The girl was gonna sell us out! She has information on us– I don't– I don't know how she got it! Fuck, I don't even know who she is!”

“Fuck.” You hiss. Of course it's Scorpion.

“Scorpion? Who the fuck is Scorpion?” Vigilante asks, glancing up at you.

You just shake your head and screw your eyes shut, slashing at the man’s throat quickly. It's a deep cut, and the blood flows from the wound like a waterfall. He lets out a strangled yell, gurgling and choking on his own blood before you push his body to the floor. He stills after a few moments.

“Check the body.” You tell Vigilante, and he obliges, reaching into the pockets of the man you just killed. You make your way over to the woman quickly, shoving your knife back into its holster.

She panics as you approach her, pressing her back against the wall. She whimpers and writhes in her restraints, and you can't blame her. If you were a witness to what she just saw, you'd probably be afraid of yourself too. But you kneel down in front of her, and tell her gently, “You're gonna be okay. You're safe now.” You take out your pocket knife slowly, and her eyes widen. “I'm just gonna use this to cut your restraints, okay? Then we’ll get you out of here.”

She seems to calm down a little, and you take the opportunity to cut the duct tape around her mouth, peeling it carefully until she takes a deep, frantic breath through her mouth.

“Hey, Shadow?” Vigilante calls from behind you, and you glance over your shoulder at him as he stands over the body, inspecting the wallet he found. “This guy’s name was Robert Robertson. How fucking lame is that? You know, I think we did him a favour. Who wants to live with a name like Robert Robertson?”

“Oh, his parents hated him.”

You go back to cutting the rope restraints around the her wrists and ankles as she watches you, breathing shakily everytime the metal brushes against her skin. You offer her quiet apologies. Eventually, she's free, and you stand up, offering her a hand.

She doesn't take it. Instead, she asks you in a small, scared voice, “You're not gonna kill me, right?”

“No. Of course not.” You reassure her.

She's not convinced by your words. She looks at you with pleading eyes, and then her gaze flicks behind you, prompting you to turn around. You see Vigilante standing just a few metres away from you, flipping his knife in the air and catching it. You scoff, “Dude, can you put that thing away? You're freaking her out.”

“Sorry.” He mumbled, tucking his knife back into its holster, kicking his feet like a scolded puppy dog.

“We're not gonna kill you. I promise.” You tell her, offering your hand again. This time, she takes it, allowing you to pull her up to her feet. She stumbles almost instantly in her exhaustion, every muscle in her body aching and sore; you catch her, calling out to Vigilante.

He picks her up, and the three of you make your way out of the building and into the street.

It doesn't take long for your contact, Erica, to arrive. The woman is reluctant to leave you, insisting that you should come with her for protection. It takes around ten minutes for you to convince her that she'll be safe without you; that you trust Erica and she'll be taken somewhere safe.

You wave her off, and not long after you find yourself back on the rooftop with Vigilante.

“So… Scorpion. Who's that?” He asks, sitting down beside you as you pack your rifle and other miscellaneous weapons into your grey duffel bag.

“How long have you been doing… this? Like, how long have you been Vigilante?”

He shrugs, “Maybe five or six years.”

“And you've never had any run-ins with Scorpion or his men?” You ask, and he shakes his head in response. Lucky bastard. “He runs the biggest underground black market for illegal weapons in Washington. He chose Evergreen as his base for operations because it's relatively quiet. I mean, who would expect something like that to be happening here? He's been on my radar for… a while. And I’m on his.”

“You've met him?”

You take a deep breath, a few moments decide your course of action. You could tell the truth, or you could lie. Lying seems like to be the most appealing option. "No. I haven't met him. But I've made sure to be a pain in his ass, for sure. He probably knows about me."

You stand up and sling your bag over your shoulder before he can respond, making it clear that you're not interested in carrying on this conversation. You barely know him, and you don't feel it's necessary to reveal everything to him. “Anyway. Thanks for tonight. For helping me out. Even though it was kinda your fault that I needed help. It was… fun. I guess.” Fun? Did you seriously just say that?”

“Yeah. Sorry about that.” He apologises, sheepish. "I had fun too. Just in case you were wondering."

A silence falls over the two of you, allowing some time for you to collect your thoughts. You meant it when you said that it'd be fun, and that freaks you out. It's been a while since you've spent time with anyone outside of your workplace. Having friends means having baggage, something that others can use as leverage; that's something you can't really afford to have.

“So… Is there any way that I could, like… contact you?” He asks, kicking his leg back and forth nervously, his shoe scuffing against the concrete.

“You… You want to contact me?”

Vigilante shrugs, “Yeah. I don't know about you, but I think we made a pretty good team. Unless you disagree. Then I think it was awful and we should go our separate ways and never do it again.”

“N-no. I think… Yeah. I agree.” You stutter. You fucking STUTTERED. How dare your voice betray you like this? You want to grab your own shoulders and shake yourself. Scream ‘THIS ISN’T YOU’. You've proven to yourself time and time again that you're ruthless. That you don't need anyone's help, or anyone to look out for you. Yet here you are, agreeing that you and Vigilante did make a pretty awesome team, and that maybe you'd be open to meeting with him again. What the fuck is wrong with you? You're truly fucked.

Still, you pull out your burner phone and hand it over to Vigilante, “You can just… y’know, put your number into there.”

So he does just that, handing your phone back to you. “So, you'll text me? Or.. call me? Whichever you prefer. I know some people prefer to text because it's less pressure–...”

“I'll text you.” You assure him, giving him a quick nod before making your way to the ladders, wondering what the fuck just happened and when you'd decided to start being friendly with random Vigilante’s. Especially Vigilante’s that are literally called Vigilante.

You still think it's a dumb name, but that does nothing to wipe the stupid grin off your lips as you make your way home.

[krtsvig]

adrian chase fics come home i miss u

[lovelylemontrash]

I made these just for myself but I felt I had to share them

happy pride month

[roipecheur]

Summary:

Nothing is going to get in the way of Leota's perfectly planned weekend to spend with her wife, the first they'd had together in months. Whatever Adrian wants when he shows up on her doorstep on Friday night can damn well wait until Monday morning, even if he tries every last bit of Leota's patience by nearly ruining all of her and Keeya's dates with his killing spree. If he doesn't knock if off soon, Leota's going to kill him. That is, until the hits start landing a little too close for comfort, and their origin means she'll be lucky to survive the weekend in one piece.

Fandoms: Peacemaker (TV 2022), Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Batman (Comics)

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Relationships: Keeya Adebayo/Leota Adebayo, Leota Adebayo & Adrian Chase, Adrian Chase/Christopher Smith | Peacemaker

Characters: Leota Adebayo, Keeya Adebayo, Adrian Chase, Christopher Smith | Peacemaker, Emilia Harcourt, John Economos, Amanda Waller, Slade Wilson, Patricia Trayce, Kate Kane (DCU), Ra's al Ghul, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Rose Wilson

Additional tags: Humor, Action, Plot Twists, bats & birds show up briefly, rose has a cameo

Words: 37,499

[jhirowolf]

I've read all of TWO issues of Marv Wolfmans original run on Vigilante and wow....if your only experience with Adrian Chase is Peacemaker, it's a tonal whiplash, comics Adrian is an angry violent man who is intense and kinda extreme in how he thinks. Ig he's a true blorbo with the biggest angsty whump fanfics potential, especialy knowing how his story ends (as i accidentaly learned through the internet when i saw couple panels).

Like... comics Adrian gives me "wears black eye make-up and listens to Nirvana while writing down his thoughts about the nights events into a diary" vibes. Whitch is so wild next to the goofy and comedic baby girl of the HBO show.

Don't get me wrong, i really like both Adrians.

[lovearne]

Unconventionally Chris makes peace with being a dad

All of my fics and my whole page is 18+ only, if you are a child leave. I deserve a safe space to express myself, all blogs under 18 or no age will be blocked. Let me enjoy my experience safely on the internet, thank you.

Warnings: blood, death, canon typical violence, pregnant reader, birth (brief), angst around being pregnant, reader doesn't know who the dad is

Word count: 7.1k+

You weren't a Saint and you never claimed to be. But when you told your best friend you had gotten knocked up, his eyes nearly popped out of his skull.

It was about 11pm when you called him bawling your eyes out, he was in the middle of roughing up some assholes who were chasing a cat down the alley when you called him, masked up as the notorious vigilante. His Barbie Girl ringtone quickly cut his beat down out, the mem getting away, this time.

What really caught his attention were your sobs into the phone, he immediately starts bounding through the city, trying to locate his car, when he eventually found it, he broke every law trying to get to you.

Your apartment door was unlocked when he arrived, bursting through the door he found you huddled against the back of the couch, right between it and the wall, long wrappers strewn about. He gently puts a suited hand out, trying to coax you out of your safe place.

"Are you ok bun? It's ok, it's me, I'm here. Nobody will come back to hurt you, I promise. I've got you. You can come out. You are safe." He gestures for you to come out and hug him. It had hurt his soul very much that you were hurting, he wanted to wrap.you in his arms where you would feel safe. Where he felt you'd be second most safe.

You toss a stick by his feet instead, the tears rolling down your face. Snot was smeared across it too, from where you rubbed your sleeve on your wet face. Adrian swore he felt his heart snap in two for you. Picking up the small stick he flipped it over, there was a little box that said pregnant. His heart stopped.

"You're pregnant?" The boy was confused, he had thought pregnancy was good news, especially for you. You had always wanted kids. But he's gotten a girl pregnant before and went with her to planned parenthood to hold her hand through an abortion. He can see both sides, but you had always wanted this, ever since he first met you, you've been telling him about your future kids.

You nod your head. Your entire body was shaking. A tiny, barely audible "Yes." Escaped your lips. Adrian thinks for a second.

"Who is the father?" You shake your head violently. The tears coming faster.

"I dunno," the sob that escaped your lips at that moment shattered Adrian's already broken heart for you. So, he did the only rational thing in his mind.

"I'll do it."

"What?" Your face had scrunched up looking at him.

"I'll be the kids dad if that's what you need. Fuck those guys you've been with, I'm here, and we are best friends, we could co-parent." You smile at his offer but ultimately turn him down. You can't trap him into a life like that, a life where his life wouldn't be his own anymore. A life where he's a dad to your kid despite not having any chance of it being his.

"Babes, no. Thank you for your offer, but I can't let you be dragged down by this. I love you so much and I appreciate your offer, and I would say yes if there was any chance it was yours. I'm not ruining your life." He looked sad for a split second, quickly masking it with a smile, holding his hand out to you again.

"Come on, let me at least help you through this, ok?" You take his offered hand and let him pull you out of the safe space you soothe yourself in.

He pulls you into a long hug, holding your head into his neck, and.rocking you back and forth. Over the time you've known him, he's gotten very good at comforting you. Especially when he can just pull you in. Gently rubbing your back he hums to you, hoping to calm you from crying.

"You know the worst part? It could be Chris' baby." Chris had just been put away for 40 years, scooped up for life. You knee he wasn't getting out ever, there wasn't any chance.

"Oh bun," Adrian held you closer. "It's ok, let it out, I'm here. I'm not gonna let anything happen." You sob into him, getting the front of his suit soaked with your snot and tears.

"I don't know what to do. I think I'm in love with him." Adrian ignores the aching in his heart for you. Instead opting to hold you closer and not saying anything on that topic. He knows if he said something like that aloud he'd want you to just show how much you care for him.

"We should visit him. Don't decide anything until we can visit him. Ok?"

"He doesn't know who you are tho? You can't walk into the prison dressed as vij." You wipe the snot away, "they'd arrest you too!"

Adrian stays with you the rest of the night, making plans to purchase tickets to Louisiana, to go visit Belle reve. You fell asleep on his chest, so he booked the tickets for the next morning, he was bringing you to visit the man you loved.

—

"You know, we don't have to go. I don't like that you spent your money on this." You had been scolding Adrian since you got to the airport. Adrian rolled his eyes, and pulled you under his arm.

"You know, I want to see him too. But this is needed. You need to see him face to face. You need to decide what you want before you wait too long." Adrian had also been scolding you, I mean, fair is fair right?

He just wants you to have all the information you need before making any decisions. You smile at him, taking his hand and pulling him to the gate. You regularly kissed his cheek throughout the plane ride. And when you landed you made sure to pay for the hotel room as well. You made sure to pay for 3 days, so you could see Chris today, hopefully tomorrow and the next day as well.

The second you got into the hotel room, you went to change. You put on a tank top and some shorts. Louisiana was a lot warmer than Evergreen. You and Adrian registered as visitors and waited patiently for access through. You had been pulled aside for a search, they said you looked suspicious. You just nodded and allowed the man to search you, coming up with nothing you were allowed to join Adrian in the waiting area for entering the visitation room. You had a soldier watching over this visitation.

"Good mornin', I'm col. Rick Flag, I oversee the violent offenders open visitation." You nod and shake the man's hand.

"It's nice to meet you, Colonel Flag." Adrian repeated the sentinel as he avoided Flags open hand. Flag nodded and brought you into the small room. Inside there was a table with a pair of cuffs and three chairs.

Flag informs the two of you that Chris had been held up with toilet duty, and he would be in the room in 5 minutes.

"Colonel?" He nods his head from the corner of the room. "Does Chris have to wear those cuffs?" He shakes his head.

"No, this is an open visitation. Normally used to see an inmate's family. We only use them on the very violent offenders, but seein' as Smith is new, we can try the open. Tha's why I'm here." You nod again. Turning to Adrian and holding his hand. Suddenly nervous for the meeting. Adrian moves his arm so it's around you, pulling you into his side.

"You ok bun?"

"Yeah, just a little nervous, I haven't seen him since the trial. I know it was only like a month ago but I miss him." Adrian nods, squeezing your middle with his arm. And rubbing your arm soothingly.

There was a slight commotion outside, and the door was knocked on. Flag opened it and stepped outside.

"OK, we unshackle out here, and you don' wear cuffs for your whole visit. Can you do so peacefully?" You hear Chris agree.

Squeezing Adrian's hand as the door opens and Chris is walked in by Flag. When Chris sees you, he smiles largely, nearly cutting his face in half. You look at Flag, and he nods before you can ask.

You are in Chris' arms almost immediately after you stand up, having his strong arms around you made you feels 10 times better with the situation you are in. His head went into your neck as soon as you were in his arms, he felt like he was home, you felt like home to him.

You stayed like that for a long while, just standing and absorbing each other's presence. Eventually you let go of Chris, taking his nice strong hand and pulling him to the table.

"Sit down handsome, I have some things I need to talk to you about." You go and sit on your side of the table, rejoining Adrian's side.

"Hey thimble," he nodded at Adrian, looking at you as he processed his vision. "Why is thimble here?" You kick his leg under the table, him flinching as you did.

"Don't call him thimble. That is very mean and untrue." Chris nods, apologizing to Adrian. "He is here because A) he's my best friend and B) he's known you his whole life. So fuck off." Chris nods in acceptance once more. Grabbing your hand from over the table when he sees how nervous you are.

"How are you? How is eagly and has my dad been harassing you again?" You smile at his questions.

"Eagly is fine, I go and see him everyday. Your dad is a dick, but I can handle him. I just tell him to suck my cock when he starts saying shit." Colonel Flag let out a laugh at that holding a hand up when Chris turned around to look at him.

"There's my little badass. How long are you in town for?" The conversation just carried from there, Adrian had been highly involved in it too. Eventually the boys started talking about Adrian's mom and how she is, she hasn't been doing so well since Gut died.

In the middle of conversation, Chris gestures you over to him, and gets you to sit on his lap. He's really missed you so much, and he misses how you would just sit on his lap as you rub your hand through his hair. Scratching slightly at his scalp.

Wrapping up his conversation with Adrian, he then turns to you.

"What did you have to talk to me about babe?" One word. One word and you were jelly in his hands. Chris smith doesn't just call anyone babe, and here he is calling you his babe.

You pull away from him, and walk over to where your bag is, asking Rick if you could open it and get the content. Rick nods, when security had checked, they had told him what it was and to be weary of the outcome.

With the stick in your hand, you gather the courage to bring it to Chris. "So before I show you what I brought, I need to be completely clear with you. So, you know I've been fucking other people, and I know you have. We've never been committed, just friendly and sexual right?" Chris nods his head, "OK." You shakily exhale.

Chris puts his hand out, waiting patiently for the item to fall in it. He closes his eyes as you move to set it in his hand.

The cold plastic made contact with his hand and his eyes opened. Looking first at your nervous eyes and then at the item in his hand.

"Is this a-" He breaks himself off as he sees the digital writing. "Are you pregnant?" His eyes had snapped up to meet yours and then back to the test. You nod your head and cover your mouth. Chris stands and drops the test, you hear the click of Rick's stun gun and hold your hand up to him.

"Are you sure? Have you been to the doctors?" You shake your head. "OK, ok." He pulls his arms around you giving you a sweet hug. "It's ok, here's the plan. You go to a clinic tomorrow, you find out for sure, and then you make your decision." You start to cry against his chest. He rubs your back up and down, picking you up to place you on the table. Pulling your chip up to see him.

"Hey, it's ok. We are going to make this work. I'm gonna be on my best behavior and I'll be out of here before you know it." You know it's a lie, he knows it's a lie, Adrian knows its a lie, and Flag does too. You all know yet they let you be comforted by it, and you let yourself be comforted by it.

"It might not even be yours though Chris. God I'm such a slut!" He sushes you and rubs your arms. Shaking his head.

"No babe, you better mean that positively, because you haven't done anything wrong. Sex is sex. Do you think I'm a slut?"

"Kinda." You laugh at Adrian's comment. Chris smiles a little as well. Amused with your best friend's banter.

"Adrian is right, you are a slut, but in a positive way. And I wouldn't have you any other way." Chris smiles warmly at you.

"So this thing. If you decide to keep it, I wanna be their dad. Ok? I know I don't have good references, but I will be a great dad to them. If that is what you want." Your heart practically melted at his confession. Nodding at his wants.

"Ok," You respond. "But you have to promise me. Ok?" He nods his head once at you, bringing you into another body crushing hug. His head nestled into your neck, and your chin resting on his shoulder.

You move your mouth to be near his ear. "I hope you know I love you. Please don't say it back. Please don't say anything, but I love you. I just needed you to know. And I'll wait for you, no matter how long. I'll wait." Your voice was barely a whisper, yet Chris could hear every syllable. His hair standing on edge as your breath tickled his ear. He pulled back to look at you, a forlorn expression on his face.

"Babe," You put your hand to his mouth, effectively cutting him off.

"No, don't say anything. We'll be back tomorrow, ok? Just keep out of trouble, and I'll ask about conjugal visits." He makes a goofy face, dopey smile pulling it all together. You smile leaning forward to kiss the tip of his nose. "Be a good boy, ok Handsome?" He laughs a little, going to pull you in for a kiss, just as there was a loud knocking on the door.

You look at the colonel, and he bows his head.

"Unfortunately, ya visitin' time is up. But you can come back tomorrow and we can find out about those conjugal visits." Col. Flag gestures for you and Adrian to get up. You shake your head at him, you grip tighter onto Chris.

"Just 2 more minutes? Please?" You were begging, and you know it makes you look weak. You just can't help wanting to stay with your love a bit longer. The colonel nods his head. You turn back to Chris, gripping his face in your hands and pulling him into a breath stealing kiss.

Chris' hands make it to the back of your head, pulling you in further and further, trapping you against his body, deepening the kiss and swiping his tongue against your closed lips. When you part them, Chris dives his tongue deep into your mouth, tasting every corner and memorizing it. You moan softly into his mouth, he groans back into yours, the both of you caught up in the kiss and in the taste of each other you barely notice Adrian pulling you away from Chris.

"It's time to go bun. We still have enough time to make it to a clinic today, and we can be back bright and early tomorrow morning. Sounds good?" You nod at him, reaching to give Chris one more kiss, this time on his forehead.

"I love you big man, we'll be back soon, ok?" He nods his head waving to you as Colonel Flag escorts the two of you out.

As the door closed, the colonel turned to you, "I understand how difficult it must be to see ya man like tha' and I'm truely sorry ya had to."

You nod at him, taking Adrians hand, and squeezing it as the 2 men take Chris out of the room. each had a hand on one of his arms, putting the cuffs on his wrists and pulling on them, making sure they were secure.

You long to push them away and take Chris' hands and run out of there. Instead you step forward, seeing as the men look over your shoulder and then part. You throw your arms around Chris, his were trapped between you two.

"I love you y/n. But you need to let me go. They are waiting to take me back." You nod and kiss his chin, walking back to where Adrian and Col. Flag are.

—

Adrian had taken you to the clinic rigth from the prison, and you were seen within a half hour. When your name had been called, you drug Adrian with you.

Pulling him into thr terrifying clinic room. It smelled of rubbing alcohol and sterile water, and latex. God, you hated medical centres, you hated the waiting the staff put you through and you especially hated the way that the paper stuck to your legs.

Adrian had been softly rubbing one of your hands between his two, attempting to sooth you. And oddly, it was working. He tried to tickle you as well, but you weren't having any of it. You were in the middle of playfully pushing his arm away when the sonographer walked in.

They had you pull your shirt up and pants down, and you asked Adrian to record it so you could show Crhis. He was sitting with his phone in hand, zoomed in way to close to your belly as you pulled your pants down and the sonographer put the cold gel on your skin.

Adrian had moved to get you in the whole picture, a veiw of your fave and the wand up to your stomach.

"Huh," that was never a good sound coming out of a sonogrpher.

"What is it? Is the baby ok, am I ok?" The sonographer mods their head. "Yes, it does appear the babies are fine." There was a smile on their face.

"Wait, wait. There are more than one?" You eyes started to tear up. The sonogrpher nods their head at you. Running the wand around your stomach again.

"See, there's baby 1," moving the wand a bit more, "and there is baby 2." You gasp looking down at your stomach and then again at the screen.

"Holy shit." You curse "How far along do you think I am?" The sonographer scrunches their nose studying the fetal monitor.

"I'd say, maybe 4 and a half months. I could also tell you the gender of the babies if you want." Your world is rocked. Not even 2 weeks ago had you imagined being pregnant. You just thought your period had gone away due to stress, the heartache that it caused you when Chris was put in prison. You shake your head at the sonographer.

"Could you maybe put it in an envelope? I'm still a bit shocked that I'm even pregnant." The sonographer nods their head and moves to grab the items.

You and Adrian look at each other is disbelief, he's still got that phone filming you and his mouth is wide in shock.

"Do twins run in your family y/n?" He ends up asking.

"No, this would be the first set I know about." You were in shock, staring down at your stomach, your arms wrapped around it as you think about what the future holds.

---------

Bright and early the next morning you head over to the prison, after breakfast hour. Looking to spend time with Chris. Walking into the prison holding Adrian's hand, you are less nervous about the area than yesterday, yet more nervous due to the news you had.

Saying a quite good morning to the guards who also patted you down yesterday, they start up the same routine. Pulling the envelope from your bag they turn to you, about to open it.

"Don't you open that! That's not for you!" You start getting angry at these guards. They laugh and walkie in to the warden they had a visitor they needed to be escorted out due to behaviour.

"Woah woah, now, what's happenin' out here?" Colonel flag just seemed to appear out of nowhere. You turn at him and there are tears in your eyes.

"They're trying to open the gender envelope, I wanted Chris to, he's already missing so much." The Colonel nods and sets his eyes on the guards. He easily grabs the envelope from their hands.

"Excuse me gentlemen, this is a non threat personal item that visitors are allowed to bring in on visits." Handing the envelope back to you the both of you wait for Adrian's pat down to be done, as they had taken him into a separate room for a full pat down.

-----

You greet Chris this time with a big hug and a kiss. The force caught him off guard and he stumbled a bit. He was soon laughing into your mouth and kissing you back.

"Hey baby." His eyes were shining as he pulled away to look at you. You smile largely at him.

"Hey handsome. I brought a present!" His eyes shine brighter in amusement.

"Oh yeah? And what is that?"

"My best friend Adrian!" The three of you laugh at that, Adrian mostly cause you tickled his side in jest.

The three of you sit down and chat about your night, the same as yesterday, col. Flag was standing in the corner, keeping to his business, watching the three of you.

"Ok, you went to the doctors? What did you two find out?" Chris studies the two of you, looking from you to Adrian and then back.

You smile widely at him. Sliding the envelope over the table to him. Watching as he looks at it puzzled and then opening it. You see his face pale slightly, then a nice smug smile tore across his face. He looks up at you through his brows, and his eyes were shining again.

"Twins huh?" His mouth held a cocktail smirk now. "I really shoot that well. Two for the price of one." His eyes were looking down at the sonogram now. Kind of tearing up. you stand and move to his side of the table, pulling him into you, Instead he pulls you onto his lap, flush with his body as he rests his head against your chest. You card your fingers through his hair.

"I can't believe we are having twin girls." He mumbles into your neck after moving his head to give you a better hug.

"Girls, eh?" His head shoots up to look at you, surprised that you hadn't known. "That's why I asked for the envelope, wanted you to know first doofus." He smirks cheerily.

"My woman, and my girls. I hope you know, I ain't ever leaving you. Even if you decide to do a paternity test. I won't leave if they aren't mine." His sincerity made you fall in love with him all over again. The loving look in his eyes, he loved you as best he could. His sweet words were interrupted by an 'oh shit' moment.

"Vigilante would love this!" Chris exclaimed. "You know how he was always trying to get us to admit we were in love? He'd die if he seen this. You laugh and push your face close to his. "What's he up to?" Adrian cleared his throat.

"The police are actually seriously looking for him now. We heard that just before coming here actually." Chris nods.

"I hope they don't catch him, I Know he will make sure you and the girls are safe. I trust him, he will look after the both of you," he looks at both you and Adrian. "If my dad finds out your having my kids he will want to be involved to win them over. Please don't let them see him ever. I can only do so much from here. And I'm afraid of what he might treat them like, after seeing how he's treated women and girls all my life." You nod, settling against chris' chest even more.

"I wish you never got thrown in jail. I miss you so much." Your eyes had started to tear up. Chris was rubbing your back and comforting you.

"I'm sorry I got put away. Peace means everything to me, and I will die to achieve it." You pull away from his hug to look ar him.

"I know the whole 'no matter how many men woman and children I have to kill to get it.' But please can you stop talking about dying? I don't want to think about that." Chris nods his head. Accepting your request. He has always been a giant softie for you.

"Ok baby, we have a shorter visit time today. They have me on the Prison Industries crew. First stable job in my life. Doesn't pay much, but it's all going toward you and the girls, I'm trying love." You kiss his lips gently the tears mixing into your kiss.

"I love you so much."

-------

Over the next three years, you had gotten used to spending a week at a time down in Luisiana. You had made fast friends with Colonel Flag, and your girls actually call him uncle Rick. You spend the week staying with the Colonel and visiting Chris everyday.

You had conjugal visits every once in a while. Not every time you visited, but close enough, every month or two. Chris had actually proposed the last one you had. He didn't have a ring, but he had tied a piece of his shirt around your finger. Promising to find a way to get you a ring. Rick had laughed at your makeshift ring when you got back to his house after.

"Ya man couldn' get you a real ring now?" You shake your head, playfully pushing his arm.

"Don't make fun of him, I love him. And your only jealous I have someone whod marry me with rings made of strings. One day you'll have that with somebody." Rick nods his head, pulling you into his arms.

"How was the visit?" You hug him back.

"I don't think you want the details, but it was amazing." He breathes a laugh.

"No I don' think i want details either little lady. Your girls are napping in your room, so be quiet goin' in. And goodnight doll."

-----

You had fallen pregnant again from that conjugal visit. When you broke the news to Chris he was ecstatic, you'd told him and the girls together. He already loved your girls (Annie and Liz) so much, and he was over the moon for your newest addition. This time the two of you decided you want their gender to be a surprise. And signed a marriage licence in front of Rick, Adrian and you girls.

A few more months after you found out, the news came of Chris dying. The blow did not soften when you had found out Rick Flag died as well. You were emotionally wrecked, well that was a downs statement. You were ruined. But you kept going, you kept being a mom, and you kept taking care of your girls. You hadn't told them that their dad died. You just said that you had to take a break from seeing him for a while.

Adrian had held you that night you heard, he held you so tight you were sure you had become one person. He has always been your best friend and he always would be. He held you as you sobbed your eyes out. He was there for you always. And you loved him so much that you can't remember there ever being a time where the two of you weren't friends. True to Chris' word the vigilante had been taking care of you, he just didn't know that the vigilante had been Adrian chase all along.

---

"Nobodies saying what they did was right-"

"THEY EXPERIMENTED ON CHILDREN!" Rick flags voice had boomed through the lab room, piercing Chris' tired ears. Chris pulls his face together in anger.

"That information gets out, it causes an international incident! Keeping the peace is worth any price." Chris had been so long without being peacemaker, he wanted to do well for waller so be could co tinge to be his alter ego. "Including the life of a hero likes yours sir so please," he pauses and shakes his head. "Don't make me do this."

The building crumbled around them, separating them from cleo and the doctor. A nasty fight ensured, resulting in peacemaker being pinned by Rick.

"They experimented on kids, what if they had been your kids, would that even make a fucking difference. What if it had been y/n?! You sick fucking prick." Chris has thought again, and he frowned.

"I'm doing this for them. Making sure they have food and safety." Rick got angrier and pushed the pipe down tighter on Chris' throat.

Chris reached and grabbed a piece of porcelain, stabbing Rick in the chest. The piece had gone in and speared his heart. His face showed great pain and disbelief. Loosing his strength as his heart started to give out.

"Peacemaker," he struggles for the breath. "What a joke."

---

Those words haunted Chris, they haunted him every single day of his recovery. The haunted him since he was transferred to Evergreen hospital, they haunted him when he was in physical therapy, everytime he closed his eyes.

When he was released from the hospital, he was grateful you weren't at the trailer, especially when the Argus team arrived. You and the Girls must be out somewhere. And he was correct, the three of you had gone to Fennel Fields for lunch.

Adrian had to work but the four of you sat down to have lunch first. The twins ere now 4 and so in love with their uncle. You were 9 months into pregnancy with your third baby, and they were currently overdue by a week. This baby didn't want to leave the confines of your womb, they were quite comfortable in it and you couldn't blame them.

Your stomach was huge tho, the same size as it was when you were pregnant with the girls. This baby was gonna be a big one.

Adrian was entertaining the girls by standing the sugar packets from the table into a house of cards. The girls giggle as their uncle keeps trying to rebuild his house, a slight gust of air knocking them over almost every time.

Annie and Liz loved their uncle Adrian, he was their hero and he always told funny stories about their dad so he got bonus points at that too.

After finishing lunch, you brought the girls back home. Unlocking the door, you notice a few things were different.

"Girls stay here, right by the door. You grab one of Chris' stashed guns and walk through the trailer. A jar of olives was out of the fridge sat on the counter, still open. The couch was a mess as opposed to the clean state it had been earlier. There were footprints throughout the house, leading to your room where you found a broken window and Chris' little blue iPhone missing.

After ensuring nobody was in your home, you usher the girls in, grabbing some cardboard and boarding up the window, duct taping it in place. Your bed also looked as if someone had been sitting on it, the blankets were all bunched together in a small area.

Shrugging it off, you get the girls in the bath, washing the dirt from the dy off of them, dressing them in their house clothes and letting them be kids, playing outside with the other trailer park kids.

You were doing some washing and headed out to hang it on the clothes line. The girls giggles being the only thing you could hear. They were playing tag with the group of 5 other kids that live in the trailers near yours.

Your day continued like that until it was nighttime. Putting the girls to bed in their room, Adrian had helped you build the add on after you had given birth to the girls. Rick had come up to help as well, the two men had gotten it done in about a week. They had made sure it was properly insulated and wired and everything.

During Rick's 5 separate vacation weeks a year, he'd come up and visit you and the girls. He quite enjoyed the little trailer you had, although it was Chris'. And he loved the dense forest in your backyard, a big difference from the forests down in louisiana. You miss your friend a lot, and you miss your husband a lot. Both were cruelly taken from you 5 months ago and you were never gonna see them again.

It was late enough you'd decided. Rubbing your belly and heading to bed. You couldn't help but miss the man you married. The way you knew he'd rub your baby bump and let you rest against him. Just like he had done the numerous times you'd visited him through your first pregnancy. You missed the man that was supposed to be laying on the other side of the bed.

You bad cried yourself to sleep that night, waking up with swollen under eyes the next morning.

---

Chris had gotten himself into trouble. He offered to drive a beautiful lady home after he was spoke to at Fennel fields, and went to a bar to unwind. The lady invited him in, so he went.

Somewhere in that he had pissed the lady off, and she came at him with a knife. So he did the only logical thing, he fought with her. He had been slashed and stabbed a few times, throw around and pushed right through a wall. He decided jumping out the window was the only option, falling a few stories, landing on his hands and knees. His helmet being the only thing able to save him, after multiple attempts to incapacitate the girl.

She had unfortunately exploded and his car was smashed up greatly. Eagly had luckily flew away before anything had happened.

Harcourt and adebayo ended up being his saving grace as they picked him up before he'd been found by the police. Chris didn't make it back to the trailer until the morning. After you had packed up the girls and headed out.

He once again had to break in through the window, knowing you'd probably kill him for that when you seen him. He layed on the bed and had a good cry about things, the fact he'd left you alone for 4 years, not a peep for 5 months, the fact he had killed Rick Flag, one of your closets friends and lastly, the fact that he's married to you yet was very attracted to Emilia. He felt tremendous guilt from everything weighing heavy on his mind.

Vigilante had interrupted his crying session before he could get to worked up. The two of them headed out and blew off some steam and celebrate getting out of prison by going to their appliance yard. They went and had a blast, they blew up lots of little appliances and shot various weapons at them.

Chris eventually breaks the silence. "Hey man?" Vigilante nods at chris. "Did you keep an eye on y/n? How is she and the girls?" Vigilante drops his bow.

"You haven't seen her yet??" Chris shakes his head.

"March your ass back to your house and wait for her. She thinks your fucking dead." Chris' eyes widen running back to the trailer. He waits impatiently on the couch, changed into a soft flannel and a pair of nice sweatpants, Chris hypothesized these were you pajamas, you'd always did love wearing his clothes when you spent the night.

While he waited, he reaped the cardboard up, but way messier, he also did the dishes that were in the sink and tidied up the girls room. Picking up any laundry on the ground and putting it in the hamper.l

looking around their room, he nods. Adrian and Rick sure did an amazing job in this room.

He also puts a roast on for dinner, while waiting, and as it's cooking he can smell that it is a bear, likely from a bear vs car crash. You'd always hate to see the bear go to waste like that, and besides, the bear is a really good meat, very tasty and full of protein.

He also chopped and peeled some potatoes to make mashed with. He knows that being kids the girls probably wouldn't like any fancy potatoes, not that you did either though. He smiles thinking of the time he made you scalloped potatoes and you tried to power through eating them, even when he could clearly tell you weren't fond of it. He swore he fell in love with you based off of that.

Grabbing the broccoli from the freezer he also throws that into a pot with some water. Knowing exactly how you like your meals he makes it the perfect way. Just in time for you to walk through the door with the girls in tow. He was in the bathroom getting washed up.

"Adrian! Are you here? I thought you had work tonight Hon, and I told you I don't need you to make us dinner." The girls had run to their room and you minded the stove, not wanting you to leave it to burn, or unattended while on with two small children in the house.

The bathroom door opens and closes, hearing footsteps make their way toward you, you smile. "You know Adrian, as much as I keep saying you don't have to help out as much, I really do appreciate it.

Suddenly there are arms around your sides, big, strong hands making their way to the bottom of your stomach, holding your baby bump up, relieving so much stress from your body.

"Woah, ok you aren't moving, this baby has been sitting on my bladder all day, and you are being a miracle worker." You lean back against his chest, feeling much more muscle than normal, scrunching your face you comment. "You've been working out a lot more lately dude? I gotta compliment the gains."

"Well, for the past 5 months I've been working back to standing here." You freeze.

"Get out," tears were already trying to slip past your waterline. "You aren't him. He's dead, so get out now and I won't kill you where you stand." Chris chuckles, leaning to press a kiss to your neck.

"Baby it's me. I did get hurt, and they thought I died, but I'm alive." He places his chin on your shoulder.

"A building fell on you, there's no way you're alive." The tears were running down your cheeks now.

"Hey, hey, hey. Baby, I'm here and I'm not going anywhere, and I have a job. Let me take care of my family?" You turn in his arms, which was no easy task considering the size of your belly. Looking into those sparkly blue eyes, you confirm it's your husband. Fat tears pooling down your face as you hold him tight to you.

"Oh my god, I missed you so much. Oh I love you, please never ever leave me again. I was so scared." You bury your head into his chest. His resting on top of yours. His hands rubbing your back.

"OK babe, can you set the table? This food is gonna burn." You nod at him moving to get the girls after setting the table. Chris had just safely placed the food onto the table when he heard two sets of little footprints.

"Daddy!!" Two little voices were yelling for him as they ran into the room, Chris squatting to take his girls into his arms. "Daddy!! You're home!!" You smile at the scene recording it to show Adrian later.

After dinner the two of you put the girls in bed and then migrated to your room, finding the most comfortable way to lay together, he has a hand on your belly, stroking it as youd had imagined last night.

"You've gotta be overdue, look at you ready to pop." You giggle and squirm beside him. His face was pressed against yours, the both of you not ever wanting to let go of the other ever again.

"Yeah, by about a week, love." Your hand joined his stroking your belly the same way his hand was.

"I know sex can really help enduce labor," there was a cocky smile on his face and it made you smile back.

"I mean, if you want to I'm not gonna say no, but we do have to get creative with it because of the belly." The two of you share a laugh, Chris' hand travelling down the swell of your belly and into your panties.

----

"Ok, Mrs. Smith one more big push!" You buckle down and squeeze Chris' hand, pushing with all you had left in you. Chris was looking into your eyes, his free hand rubbing the sweat off your forehead and face.

"You got this babe, I love you so much." His eyes were sparkling so much more at that moment in time. He gets to experience the first few hours of his child's life. A babies cries broke the noise of the room, you yourself crying with the relief that they were alive and screaming. The nurses bring your baby over and set them on your bare chest.

"Congratulations Mr and Mrs Smith, it's a boy." Your tears start to flow as you look down at your handsome newborn son. "What's his name?" You look into Chris' eyes and you both say his name at the same time.

"Rick."

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