realizing that he loves and prioritizes you more than chris would probably be something that you have to help him through over the course of many hours (lol)
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he wouldnt be able to shut his fucking mouth about you being his girlfriend. its annoying but you love him for it
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it baffled him when you said that you felt the same way about him when he confessed. mostly because you took him seriously, unlike everyone else
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what baffled him even more is the slow process of realizing that what he felt toward you was love. he's always just assumed there was something wrong with him, and he didn't have emotions like "regular people"
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he's very thrilled about having the boyfriend label. because its like unlocking a new level of friendship. like... theres a rank above BFF?!!1?
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he thinks he's the best boyfriend ever, and hes not entirely wrong
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if you take a late shift and he's patrolling around as vigilante, he either 1. gives you a ride home in the vigilante-mobile, 2. walks you home in full gear/costume so, quote, "nobody fucks with you"
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he has a burner phone with only your contact on it. he showed it to you like an excited puppy when he first got it set up
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the best fanfiction you've ever read was written by a woman in her 40s before she made dinner for her kids. it was written by a teenager after school when they should've been studying for a history test. and a barista came up with the idea while they cleaned the espresso machine and busser fact-checked it on their break and the post-doc edited between writing grant proposals and the nurse apologized for typos in the notes after a long shift and behind every drabble and one-shot and multi-chapter fic there is a person with a wonderful and interesting and chaotic life and it is such a privilege that we get to be apart of it because they decided to do this thing we all share, for fun.
I hate 2 say it but being a part of a “weird” subculture does not meaningfully inoculate you against a conservative moralizing impulse. You gotta unlearn that. Saying “cringe is dead” is not enough, you have to actually be okay with things that discomfort, perplex and/or disgust you.
synopsis: Adrian's neverending streak of back to back missions is finally over. Now that he knows what it's like to be without you, he never wants to feel like that again. Luckily, there's a chapel right down the block where he can make you his for good.
tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, FLUFF (literally so much fluff), SMUT (piv sex in multiple positions, oral f!receiving), marriage proposal, wedding!!, 11th Street Kids cameos, Adrian is so in love it's sickening
word count: 6.1k
notes: IT IS FINALLY HERE! I have no idea why this took me literally a month and a half to write but I hope the wait was worth it <3 please enjoy these assassins being sappy and unbearably in love. thank you as always to @embeanwrites and @snowyathena for reading this through for me!!
part one | part two | part three | part four | bonus episode | Masterlist
The fifteen-hour drive back down to Vegas flew by much faster with you sitting in the passenger seat, Adrian thinks.
The mission itself flies by, too. Five days ago, he laid just like this in this stupid motel room bed, in silent agony, missing you, dreading the silent, lonely nights ahead of him.
Now, he lies here with you sat astride him, stuffed full of his cock, and the bed frame rattles and squeaks, matching your little moans and gasps every time he thrusts up into you, your breasts bouncing, your nails digging into his chest.
“Come on, baby,” he pants. “Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—”
“Ah—oh, god,” you sigh, rolling your hips so Adrian’s cock hits you right where you want it. You fall forward a little, let yourself rest on his chest, and he takes over entirely, grabbing you by the hips, lifting you up and dropping you back down, relishing in the tiny noises that escape you every time he hits you nice and deep.
Lying forward like this, your face hovers just above his, and you lean down the few inches to connect your lips with his. He groans at the back of his throat when your lips trail down his jaw, when your teeth nibble at the skin of his neck.
“I’m gonna—need you to come, baby, please, I need it,” he says over the sound of his hips snapping up into yours. He can feel that you’re close from the way you’re holding yourself so tensely. “Touch yourself for me, you can—”
Your hand works between your bodies, between your legs, right to where you’re joined, and rubs furiously at your clit. “Adrian—Adrian—”
He feels it when you shatter, your entire body trembling, and his own body shudders with pleasure as he topples over the edge right along with you.
“Fuck,” he gasps. You collapse, boneless, on top of him, and his arms come around you to hold you close, tracing gently up and down your back, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
“That’s one way to celebrate a mission well done,” you murmur, and he laughs.
“My favorite way,” he says, kissing the side of your head. “You know that. It’s been torture, without you.”
You kiss his cheek softly. “No more torture.”
“Only the sexy kind,” Adrian grins.
You roll your eyes. “Come on. Let’s clean up before dinner. No funny business in the shower. We don’t have time,” you say firmly.
“Of course not,” Adrian says innocently. He’s lying through his teeth. He knows it, and you do too. There’s absolutely no way he’ll be able to keep his hands off of you, especially when you get out of bed and start walking toward the bathroom with your hips swaying like that, glancing over your shoulder with a teasing look.
“You’re evil,” he says, scrambling after you. Your laughter echoes off the tiled bathroom wall.
An hour later, Adrian is almost fully dressed, in his jeans and socks, picking out a shirt. You’ve got half an hour before you’re due to meet Emilia and Chris for dinner.
“Not-Economos isn’t coming,” Adrian reports, reading a text message from Chris. “Emilia declared the mission over, and he dipped. He’s going back to Evergreen. Not that I blame him.”
“His name is Marcus,” you remind Adrian.
“I really don’t give a fuck,” Adrian says as he responds to Chris’s message. You just shake your head, giggling and digging through your bag for a fresh pair of jeans, clad only in your bra and underwear.
“Hey, Ade?” you ask, your tone curious. He looks up from his phone to see you holding up the dress.
The pretty white one, from your closet. That he’d shoved at the bottom of your bag. His heart picks up speed, and his hands suddenly feel clammy.
“Yeah?” he says, trying to play it cool.
“I know I didn’t pack this for myself,” you say, raising an eyebrow. “You planning to take me on a hot date?”
Adrian’s mouth goes dry, watching you hold the dress up against your body.
Am I actually doing this? he thinks, as he looks at you standing there, half-naked and beautiful and here and his. It was a split-second decision, shoving that dress at the bottom of your bag back in Evergreen. He could play it off now, say he wants to take you dancing, or to a nice dinner. But his eyes flick to your left hand. Your empty ring finger. He imagines a diamond sitting there, sparkling, as your hand clutches the fabric.
He clears his throat and decides.
“Maybe,” he says. “If…if you want.”
“Hmm,” you tease. “I don’t know, where are you taking me?”
Adrian swallows nervously.
“One of the chapels on the Strip,” he says. Hesitant. Hopeful.
You freeze, the floral fabric wrinkling as you clench it in your fists.
“Are you serious?” you ask. There’s something in your voice he hasn’t ever heard before. A little breathy wobble.
Adrian looks at you carefully, the way you’re looking at him with wide eyes. The surprise is written on your face, clear as day, but it’s hard to know what you’re thinking, and it makes him even more nervous. His heart skips, a quick rhythm he feels right at the back of his throat, but—it’s out in the universe now. He can’t take it back.
He doesn’t want to take it back.
“I’ve never been more serious,” he says quietly, even as his voice shakes, setting his phone aside and standing up to walk over to you. Your eyes are glassy as you look up at him, and his hands skate up your waist, your arms, your neck, until his hands cup your cheeks. “I love you. And I just spent—all those weeks alone, and now I know what it’s like. To live without you. And I never want to do it again.”
“You want to…marry me?” you whisper, like you can’t believe it.
“I do,” he says, and you smile, wide and bright, your cheeks smushing a little between his hands.
“Really? You’ve—I mean—we’ve never even talked about it—”
“I know,” he says quickly. “I know I’m springing this on you. I just—I was thinking about it the other night, when me and Peacemaker were out doing touristy shit, and I saw all the couples coming out of the chapels, being happy and in love, and—I wanted to do that. With you.”
“I want that too,” you say softly. “I want to marry you, Adrian.”
“Yeah?” he whispers. You nod, and he smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and he laughs. “Really?”
“Really,” you say. “Let’s get married.”
“It doesn’t have to be here, or now,” Adrian says. “It can just be the two of us at the courthouse in Evergreen for all I care. Or—I am technically ordained. I did it online a couple years ago when I was bored. But I don’t know if I’m allowed to marry myself? I mean, not marry myself, but marry myself, you know—”
“No,” you interrupt. “Now. Today. Well—not today. Tomorrow. We need to call John and Ads, and give them time to fly down, so they can be here. And—we need to get rings, and I love you, baby, but you are not wearing the Vigilante suit at the altar—”
“Why not? It’s the nicest outfit I own!”
“You literally killed someone last night. It’s covered in blood.”
“Oh. Right,” he says. “I guess I can probably rent a suit or something, right? Maybe a teal bow tie?” His question is hopeful. You giggle.
“I wouldn’t expect any other color.”
“We’re really doing this?” Adrian asks, because he needs to make sure. That this moment is happening, that this is real.
“Ask me,” you say. “Say the words.”
Adrian’s smile widens. “Will you marry m—”
You cut him off with a kiss, dropping the white dress to the floor so you can wrap your arms around his neck and hitch yourself higher. He does what you’re wordlessly asking, lifting you in his arms, and your legs wrap around his waist as your lips move against his. You’re saying something between kisses, in tiny, quiet gasps.
“Yes,” you say, and Adrian’s heart sings. “Yes, yes, yes—”
Then you’re reaching down, pulling at his belt, unzipping his pants, shoving them down to his ankles. He grinds against you, he can’t help it, walking you back against the wall, and you whine.
“Please,” you say. “God, please—”
Adrian shoves your underwear aside and pushes into you, a slick, smooth slide, and he fucks you right there against the wall in frenzied thrusts that knock his glasses askew. You pull his mouth to yours and kiss him, let him swallow every sound you make, every word of praise you breathe.
“So good to me,” you say. “I love you so much.”
“I love you,” he gasps into your mouth. “God, I fucking love you.”
Your head falls back against the wall when you come, fluttering around his cock, and he spills into you almost immediately after, hot pleasure rushing through him.
Fifteen minutes later, you’re cleaning yourselves up, almost certainly going to be late for dinner, but you can’t bring yourselves to care. You keep stopping, pausing for one more kiss, and it takes longer than usual for you to pull your clothes on and make yourself presentable.
“Are you sure?” Adrian says, checking in one last time before you go. “I mean it. We don’t have to do this now. We can wait. Have a big, fancy ceremony, and get you a nice expensive sparkly dress, and a cake with like, ten layers—I can make Chris and Economos wear bowties, and maybe Eagly could be our ringbearer—”
“I don’t need any of that,” you say softly. “I just need you. And our friends. But I don’t care about all the rest. I just want to be with you, for the rest of my life.”
On the walk to the restaurant, you call Ads. Adrian can hear her screeching in your ear even from several feet away, and he laughs.
“You’ll be here, right?” you ask. “You and John. I need a maid of honor. Yes, you. Oh, Ads, don’t cry—”
Meanwhile, Adrian calls Economos.
“Hey, Adrian,” he answers. “What’s up? I don’t have time for an animal quiz today, I gotta—”
“Ads is gonna book you a flight to Vegas,” Adrian interrupts.
“I—what?”
“We’re getting married,” Adrian says, and Economos makes a choking noise.
“What?”
“I mean, we’re not getting married. I’m not marrying you,” Adrian clarifies. “Obviously. I’m marrying my girlfriend. My fiancee. Who I love very much. Everyone else is coming, so you have to be there too.”
“Jesus Christ,” Economos says. “I knew what you meant, dude. But holy shit, you’re not kidding? Okay. Um. Fuck. I guess I’ll drop everything in my entire life and hop on a last-minute flight to Vegas because I have nothing better to do—”
“You don’t have anything better to do,” Adrian says, confused. “You don’t have a life.”
“Fuck you,” Economos says, but he’s laughing. “Goddamnit. I guess I have to go pack a bag. Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” Adrian says brightly. “See you tomorrow!”
When you sit down at the dinner table, Adrian doesn’t even give Harcourt time to criticize you both for being ten minutes late.
“We’re staying an extra day,” Adrian declares, sliding out your chair for you and then plopping down into his own with a huge smile.
“Five days ago, you were ready to quit your job because you wanted to not be here so badly,” Chris says. “What gives?”
“I didn’t miss home, I missed her,” Adrian says simply. “And we’re staying for a reason. Actually, you need to stay too, so you can be here. You were included in the ‘we.’ Ads and Economos are coming down, we just talked to them on the walk over here.”
“Ads and John are coming? To Vegas?” Emilia clarifies, brows furrowed.
“For what?” Chris asks, similarly bewildered. “The mission is done. I mean, we can have a bomb ass 11th Street Kids reunion and get plastered at the casino. You don’t need to ask me twice. But we can also get plastered on the roof of Emilia’s apartment building for a lot cheaper.”
You reach for Adrian’s hand on top of the table, a tiny smile on your face. He rubs his thumb over the empty spot on your ring finger. Emilia watches the movement with sharp eyes.
“Holy shit,” she says. “You’re not.”
You smile. “We are.”
“You’re what?” Chris says, looking around the table at each of you in turn.
“Oh my god,” Emlia says, clasping a hand over her mouth. “Holy shit. Holy shit.”
“What are you holy shitting about!” Chris cries.
“They’re getting married!”
Chris’s eyes go wide, and he looks to Adrian for confirmation, but he’s too busy staring at you, all love-struck and smiley.
“Dude! Why didn’t you fucking tell me! I’m your BFF!”
“It was a spur of the moment thing!” Adrian says.
“What the fuck!” Chris sputters. “Well—fine. I’m gonna be your best man, though, right?”
“Obviously,” Adrian says.
“And I asked Ads to be my maid of honor. They’ll be here tomorrow afternoon,” you add, smiling.
Emilia shakes her head. “Holy shit. Oh my god. This is crazy. I mean, it’s not crazy. I know you guys love each other. Well. It’s a little bit crazy, but Adrian is a little bit crazy, so really, what am I expecting here?”
“Aw man, Eagly’s gonna miss it,” Chris sighs. “He could have been your ringbearer or something.”
“That’s what I said!” Adrian exclaims.
“Shut the fuck up, Chris,” Emilia sighs, and you just laugh.
“Isn’t it bad luck to spend the night together before the wedding?” Emilia teases at the end of the night. You giggle, but Adrian frowns.
“That’s a tradition rooted in misogyny,” Adrian says matter-of-factly. “And respectfully, I think I’ve spent enough nights sleeping alone recently.”
“Fair enough,” Chris notes.
“Too many wedding traditions are about owning women,” Adrian continues. “Like someone walking the bride down the aisle to ‘give her away.’ She’s not an object!”
“Thank you for respecting my autonomy, honey.” He beams at you. “I still think we should do something the old-fashioned way,” you say.
“Well, you’re gonna wear a white dress,” Adrian says. “Which is supposed to symbolize purity or some bullshit like that. Obviously I don’t care about that, I mean, literally this morning we were—”
Emilia slaps him on the back of the head before he can finish his sentence, and you laugh.
“Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue?” you suggest. “No misogyny or bullshit there. That’s just for luck, I think.”
He tilts his head thoughtfully. “Does teal count as blue? Or green? I want a teal bowtie.”
“I think the bride is supposed to have all four things,” Emilia says.
“More misogyny,” Adrian says. “Why does she need to carry the weight of superstition on her shoulders? This is a partnership. We shoulder all burdens equally.”
Chris rolls his eyes. “Yes, Adrian, teal is blue.”
“Perfect! And you already have a white dress, babe. What year did you buy it?”
“Why?”
“We need to know if it’s old or not.”
“I think the fact that it was buried at the back of the closet qualifies it in the ‘old’ category.” You giggle at Adrian’s thoughtful concentration. When his mind is set to something, he takes it incredibly seriously.
“I’ve got something you can borrow,” Chris tells Adrian.
“What is it?” Adrian asks excitedly.
“It’s a surprise.”
“I love surprises!” Adrian says excitedly.
“I know,” Chris says. “It’s almost like—get this—I’m going to be your best man for a reason.”
“So if you’re going to shoulder all burdens equally,” Emilia says dramatically, looking at you with a smirk, “that means we get to go shopping tonight for ‘something new.’ What are you thinking? Accessories? Something for your hair, or a bracelet?”
“I’ve got an idea,” you smile, and Adrian immediately opens his mouth to ask what it is, but you interrupt. “It’s a surprise.”
“Two surprises in one day,” Adrian says. “And I’m getting married? Tomorrow is going to be the best fucking day ever.”
“I’ll go with you,” Emilia says. “We can go buy whatever you’re thinking, and then we can meet Chris and Adrian at one of the casinos for one last drink before we turn in for the night.”
“Wait,” Adrian pouts. “Without me?”
“How is it going to be a surprise if you come with me?” you ask.
Adrian looks torn between wanting to cling to your hand for the rest of the night and getting his surprise tomorrow. He hasn’t let you out of his sight since the day he drove fifteen hours straight to get home to you after five weeks of being apart. You’ve been within arms’ reach for almost an entire week, and the idea of you watching you walk away from him, even for just a few hours, makes his chest feel tight with panic. You can see it in his eyes, and you cup his cheek in one hand and kiss him softly.
“I’ll be with Em. You’ll be with Chris. I am not leaving Vegas, you are not leaving Vegas. No more missions. We’re together. I’m not leaving you.”
Adrian takes a shaky breath.
“I know,” he says quietly. “Just…be quick?”
“Two hours,” you promise, and he nods.
“Okay,” he says. “Here.” He opens his wallet and pulls out a wad of cash.
“What—”
“To buy your something new,” he says, shoving the money into your hands.
“You’re ridiculous,” you say, but you take the money, because he’ll argue with you if you don’t. “I’ll see you in a couple hours.” You pull out your phone and set a two-hour timer, holding it up for him to see, and watch a little bit more tension drain out of him.
“I love you,” he says.
“I love you too,” you say, and you kiss him again. “And when I get back, we’ll go pick out our rings, okay?”
“Ooh! Can I bring my Vigilante gloves with me? Maybe they can, like, embroider the left one—”
“Embroider your glove?”
“With some silver thread or something,” he nods. “The people need to know that Vigilante is off the market. Even the criminals should know that I’m taken, babe.”
Chris rolls his eyes. You just kiss your fiance and smile.
The next morning feels weirdly normal. Adrian wakes up with you curled around him, and he feels so fucking grateful for it, because the memory of an empty bed is still fresh in his mind. You’re still sleeping. He closes his eyes and pulls you closer.
But then you’re kissing him, softly, and he smiles as he realizes you’re awake after all.
“Good morning,” you say, your voice all raspy from sleep. He pulls you on top of him. He’s been doing that all week, using you like a blanket, your weight pressing him down into the mattress, comforting and secure.
Adrian opens his eyes when you laugh. You’re a little blurry. He hasn’t put his glasses on yet. You can tell he’s squinting, and you reach over to the bedside table, then slide them on his face for him. He steals another kiss after you do, then checks his phone.
“Can you believe we’re getting married in seven hours, twenty-nine minutes, and forty-one seconds?” he asks, grinning.
“What?” you ask, bewildered that he’s keeping track down to the second, but he misunderstands your confusion.
“You did agree to marry me yesterday, didn’t you?” he says, a little uncertain. “I made an appointment on my phone last night. Unless—you’re not sure? We don’t have to—”
“No, that’s not what I meant,” you interrupt quickly, putting a few fingers over his mouth to stop him talking. He can’t help himself. He kisses your hand, and you smile. “I just—how do you know down to the second?”
“It’s kinda one of the greatest, most important things that’s ever going to happen to me,” he says, trying and failing to sound casual and chill about it when in fact he’s ready to vibrate out of his skin and take you right with him, levitating from the sheer power of his excitement and joy right down the street and through the doors of the chapel.
“You’re such a sap,” you say, but your eyes are shining, and the way you’re smiling at him makes his heart flutter in his chest.
“I’m allowed to be sappy. We’re getting married today,” he says, beaming.
“We’re getting married today,” you repeat, beaming back, just as bright. “Shall we?”
Adrian expects the day to drag, but he’s too busy to watch the clock. The two of you go with Chris and Emilia to pick up Ads and Economos from the airport, and for the first time in months, all of the 11th Street Kids are in one place at the same time.
When you go grab lunch, you stop at a cheap fast-food joint with outdoor picnic tables where you can sit for a while and chat. But it’s not a quick bite. You spend hours there, catching up over too-salty fries, baking in the hot sun, laughing so loud you’re drawing attention to yourselves. Adrian looks around the table and feels so fucking happy he thinks he might explode. All of his favorite people in the whole world are here with him right now, and he gets to marry you today.
Between the trip to the airport and lunch, five hours have passed, and before Adrian knows it, the girls are whisking you off to get you dressed and ready for the evening.
“I’ll see you later,” you say as Ads drags you away into your motel room. Adrian watches you go and feels the familiar pang in his chest that comes with being apart from you, but the ache is soothed with the knowledge that the next time he sees you, you’ll be walking down the street together to the chapel.
He ends up in Chris and Emilia’s motel room with Chris and John, getting ready himself, and when he looks at the clock and realizes there’s only two hours before your appointment time, he’s surprised.
He’s been waiting for the panic to set in all day. That’s what happens in the movies. People get nervous before they get married. It’s a big commitment, it’s a big life decision. But it doesn’t feel like that, not for him.
Adrian decided a long, long time ago that you were it for him. Today, you’re just signing a piece of paper to make it official. He’ll tell you in front of his friends exactly how much you mean to him. But he’s done that dozens of times before. He tells you he loves you constantly. And he knows that you love him, too.
“I promised you something borrowed,” Chris says. He holds out a box for Adrian. “John stopped at the house to pick these up for me before he came down here.”
Adrian cracks open the box, and there’s a pair of silver cufflinks in the shape of Chris’s signature dove of peace.
“Thank you,” Adrian says, and before he can even get properly all choked up about it, Chris is rolling his eyes.
“Don’t be a pussy about it. Just put them on.”
When you text him that you’re ready about an hour later, Adrian nearly trips over himself with eagerness. Chris and John look at him, bewildered, when he rushes out of the motel room and down just a few doors to his own room where you’ve been getting dressed. They watch him knock furiously with fond exasperation.
“He’s so…” John starts.
“Whipped?” Chris suggests.
“Sure, let’s go with that. Just don’t let him hear you say it. He would probably misread a social cue and make it about like, BDSM or something.”
When you open the door, Adrian stares. Ads and Emilia have helped tame your hair into a stunning style, the floral white dress flatters your form absolutely perfectly, and—
“I am so fucking in love with you,” he says. “Fuck. How are you so pretty—”
He reaches for your face to kiss you, but Emilia slaps his hands away.
“You’re gonna fuck up her makeup.”
“Ask me if I give a shit,” Adrian retorts, and he kisses you anyway while you laugh at him.
He does, in fact, smudge your lipstick a little. Once Adrian finally lets you go, Ads rolls her eyes and carefully fixes it as best she can.
As she does, Adrian’s eyes latch onto the sparkling silver necklace at your throat. He reaches for it, picks the charm up between his thumb and forefinger. A tiny letter A. When he swallows, his throat feels tight.
“When did you—”
“My something new,” you say, smiling softly at him as Ads steps back, satisfied with her work.
“Oh,” he says, his own goofy smile growing on his face. “A for—”
“Adrian, yes,” you giggle. “I thought about a V, maybe, for Vigilante, but—”
“It’s perfect,” Adrian interrupts, his voice cracking a bit. “You’re perfect. I’m so happy that I get to marry you, baby.” He goes to kiss you again, and Ads grabs him by the back of the collar.
“I just fixed her makeup, Adrian—”
“Save the sappy speeches,” Chris says from the doorway. “We don’t want to be late.”
Adrian snaps to attention. “No. We should be early, actually. Maybe they’ll get us in quicker—”
“He’s gonna fucking run down the aisle,” John laughs.
Adrian doesn’t run down the aisle. If you were at the end of it, waiting for him, he absolutely would have. But instead, you walk down the aisle together, hands laced tightly, both of you beaming and giggling like idiots the whole way to the altar.
“You’d never guess they were fucking assassins,” John mutters to Emilia, who just smiles and shakes her head.
“Even people surrounded by death all the time deserve a little happiness,” she murmurs.
And you are. The both of you. Happier than you’ve ever been, because you love each other. Adrian has known for ages now that he was going to love you forever, but now—there’s something special about it. Setting it in stone, making it official. Being able to call you his wife instead of his girlfriend, being able to look at the wedding ring he’s going to place on your finger
He’s so caught up in it all—his imaginings of that future—that before he knows it, the officiant is done with his cookie-cutter speech, and offering the floor to the both of you to share your vows, gesturing for you to speak.
You offer Adrian a nervous half-smile and he squeezes your hands. The light in his eyes washes all of your worry away.
“The day I met you, I didn’t even see your face,” you begin. “All I knew was the man behind the mask. I knew you were funny, and brave, and righteous, and a little bit of an idiot, and part of me knew, from that very first week, that I wanted you to be my idiot. Forever. I trusted you to have my back in the field for years, and I have trusted you with my heart for almost as long, and you have done nothing but pour love and laughter into my life. I am so grateful for you, Adrian, and I love you. I will continue to love you for the rest of my life, and I will show you that love every day. No matter how far away we are.”
“When I was growing up, I never thought I’d love anyone like this,” Adrian says, a little choked up. “And now that I do, it’s the most special thing, and Chris might be my best friend, but you are my best best friend, in the whole wide world, and you are so funny and badass and hot and every time I look at you I just feel so—lucky, and every day that I wake up and I get to love you is the best day of my life, and I never want to be without you.” He takes a deep breath after his rambling confession.
The officiant gestures for John and Emilia to step forward. They each hand you something—the rings that you and Adrian had picked out the night prior. Simple, silver bands.
Adrian had wanted to get you something flashier, but you’d reminded him that you were both assassins for a living and you often worked with your hands. A lot of the time, the ring would be living on the new chain around your neck, hiding beneath your shirt right beside the tiny silver letter A. A big diamond would get caught on your clothes and in your hair.
You take the rings now from your friends and slide them onto each other’s left hands. Then your hands come up to cup Adrian’s face, framing his bright, boyish smile that widens even further when he feels the cool metal of your wedding band pressing against his cheeks.
You turn to the officiant. “Can I kiss him now? While you do the boring part?”
The man shrugs. “Be my guest.”
Somewhere in the background, you register the words as the officiant pronounces you husband and wife. Hear the sniffles that Ads and John try to hide, the clapping from Emilia, the wolf whistle from Chris.
You’re too busy kissing your husband to care about any of it.
Several hours later, tipsy and tired, you and Adrian stumble toward your motel room, giggling between kisses. It takes him three tries to get the electronic lock to work because he’s so distracted by your lips on his neck, sending bolts of heat shooting down his spine. He hums and tilts his head to give you better access as the door finally opens.
You start to step inside, but he grabs you by the wrist and yanks you into his chest.
“No,” he says. “I’m supposed to—to do a thing. Carry you.”
“Bridal style?”
“Yeah,” he says. “You’re a bride. My bride. I gotta do my duty. I will not fail at husbanding within the first six hours.”
“I think that’s for when we get home,” you laugh. “And I don’t think husbanding is a verb, baby.”
“Humor me,” he says, picking you up anyway, sending you into another fit of giggles. He steps over the threshold with a goofy smile and then sets you down on the bed and shuts the door behind him. “Okay. All done.”
“Thank you, my love,” you say dramatically.
“You’re welcome, Mrs. Chase,” he teases, leaning over you on the mattress, and then he makes a face. “Ew. Sorry. I wanted that to be sexy, it is not sexy. I’m just thinking about my fucking mom now. Gross.”
“You’re gonna have to tell her,” you point out.
“Not tonight, I’m not,” he says. “Tonight, I am going to make love to my wife, and tomorrow we are going to go home and stay home for several weeks and not talk to anybody except each other, because the rest of the world got to have you for five fucking weeks straight and it’s my turn to be alone with my wife.”
He’s been calling you that all night. Every bartender, every stranger on the street, even to Chris and Emilia and John and Ads, like they don’t know who you are already. The words feel magical on his tongue. He’s not sure he’ll ever get sick of them.
“You’re all mine,” you say. “No missions. No interruptions. Just us.”
You reach up for his bowtie and pull it loose, dropping it on the floor, then push his unbuttoned, already-disheveled suit jacket off his shoulders. His cheeks are flushed, his hair is a mess, his mouth hanging open, reaching forward for your lips, but your duck your head to the side, kissing at his neck instead. He groans.
“You’re so handsome,” you say, nibbling at his jaw as you unbutton his shirt. “How are you so handsome? I’m so lucky.”
“You’re so lucky?” he says incredulously, hands trailing up your thighs. “I’m so lucky. The luckiest guy on the fucking planet. With the most badass, beautiful wife ever. I love you so much.”
“Are you gonna take my clothes off or what? I feel like I’m doing all the work here.”
“I get to see you naked all the time. I only get to fuck my wife in her wedding dress once,” he says. He’s not even smug about it. He’s just—earnest, excited. He just wants you. And you want him just as bad.
He’s just a little bit drunk, maybe, he thinks to himself, the world all hazy and warm. He can’t stop smiling, giggling, and neither can you, the both of you feeding on each other’s joy, amplifying it back in an echo chamber that makes his chest feel tight, like he can’t physically hold in all the love he has for you.
“Do whatever you want with me,” you groan. “Just fucking touch me already.”
Adrian scrambles for your underwear, tugging it down your legs in what he wanted to be a swift movement, but ends up being clumsy. Still, as he dips down to eagerly lick at your slick pussy, you whimper—no matter how clumsy he might be right now, he knows you, knows your body, like the back of his own hand, and it takes him no time at all to work you up to your peak, until your thighs are trembling around his head and his glasses are fogging up.
When you come, tiny gasps of pleasure spill from the back of your throat, and Adrian feels a strange, possessive feeling take over him as he realizes that he is the only one who will ever get to hear you make these noises. Who will ever make you feel this way. You’re his, now, forever, and no one else can ever take you away from him.
“I just can’t believe I get to keep you,” he murmurs, kissing up your body—your belly, your breasts, your neck, until he finally reaches your mouth, delving his tongue inside to meet yours. It’s sloppy. It’s greedy. It’s perfect.
You unbuckle his belt to shove his pants down his thighs, and Adrian groans when his cock springs free and you wrap your hand around him, pumping. He’s already rock hard, leaking precum everywhere, and if he doesn’t fuck you in the next ten seconds, this will be over before it even starts.
He places his hands on your upper thighs, pushing the skirt of your dress up out of the way, and spreads your legs so he has room to settle between them. You lay back on the mattress, watching him, pupils blown so wide he wouldn’t even know what they looked like if he hadn’t spent hours of time staring at your face, admiring every fleck of color in them.
Adrian gives you no warning when he pushes into you, and your eyes flutter shut, thighs tightening around his waist. He thrusts into you with practiced movements, relishing in the fact that he knows your body so well. Knows the exact angle that will hit that sweet sensitive spot inside you, knows exactly how fast and hard you like it. Knows exactly when you’re moments away from your second orgasm, because you start clenching around his cock in that familiar way, tight and warm and perfect.
This time, when you come, Adrian is seconds behind you, his thrusts losing rhythm as he falls over the edge and spills into you. He drops to his elbows until he’s covering you with his whole body, his face hovering right above yours, breaths mingling.
“I love you,” you say, reaching for his left hand. He gives it to you, beaming as you kiss the cool metal of his wedding band. He returns the favor, ducking his head down to kiss the pendant of your new necklace.
“I love you too,” he says. “So fucking much.”
Tomorrow, you’ll head back home with your friends. Next week, you’ll be back at work, doing what you both do best—maiming and killing and whatever needs to be done for the good of your missions. But right now, there’s this. There’s the two of you, joined together, married. And with you, Adrian knows he’s ready to tackle whatever comes along next.
summary: When Waller puts you on Project Butterfly, you think your life is over. Then you become part of the 11th Street Kids and the final fight brings you closer to a particular vigilante with a capital V.
warnings/tags: Season 1 spoilers. Major fluff. Mentions of nudity, boners & sex so minors read with caution. Reader has a nickname. Strangers to lovers, slow burn. I guess slice of life if you squint but it's peacemaker so it's a crazy, mission-heavy life.
word count: 8.6K
A/N: I am FERAL for integrating the reader into the story. ((also @jamesgunn I know you used to have a tumblr account so if you see this: if Vij is in any other DCU projects, do not hurt a singular hair on this sociopathic man's head. You got that?))
___
Being a mission coordinator for ARGUS was like signing your own death wish. You had stumbled into this line of work a year ago, been surprisingly good at it, and had dealt with the horrors using booze and self-torment.
You had been side by side with Amanda Waller for twelve months straight, ignoring your best judgements and following her orders like a well-trained puppy. It had been the high life of a sorts - living under her unforgiving gaze and being praised for all your hard work.
Until your absolute colossal fuck up that sent you to the bottom of ARGUS's crap pile.
Not long after, Waller had you tasked with the role of overseeing one particular mission that was destined to go down in flames from the start.
The Peacemaker job.
You knew of John and Emilia, you had very loosely been in the same circles as them for the past year but had never really got to know them, and you knew the reason they'd ended up with this gig. You were like the three disgraced amigos - Waller's most hated.
Christopher Smith was well-known too; you'd read his files. You knew what he'd done during Project Starfish. Murn was an enigma and Adebayo being on the job was a mystery to you. You had no idea how she'd ended up in Evergreen with the rest of you sad saps.
"What do you do, then?" Chris had asked at Fennel Fields as the six of you were cramped into a booth at the diner.
"Mission coordinator." You sighed, stabbing a fork into your pasta. "I'm supposed to stop this team from fucking up Project Butterfly, which seems...futile."
Your comment had gained noises of recognition from John and Emilia. They too had no hope in this. But Chris had laughed at you, not realising the weight on your shoulders.
"Mission coordinator?" He spoke between loud, obnoxious, belly laughs, "So you're like, what? Field admin? Do you even know how to use a gun?"
And from that moment on the moniker had stuck, from Peacemaker at least. He called Emilia by her last name, John went out of his mind from being called Dye Beard, and you had fucking Field.
Even Chris' weird friend Vigilante had called you it once and you didn't even know the guy. Apparently he was Peacemaker's best friend and therefore he told Vigilante everything - including all of your nicknames.
The superhero-wannabe was going to be an issue on this mission, you could tell, and when you confronted Chris about it, he had just shrugged.
"I don't even know the guy under the mask, really." He had said, "He's a fucked-up dude, sure, but maybe that might be useful for whatever-the-fuck we're doing. Cause, y'know, I still don't know shit about Project Butterfly."
You had felt bad for keeping the guy in the dark, but it was easier to keep things on a need-to-know basis.
Now, a week and a half later, you find yourself staked outside Goff's house - a politician you and your team believe is a butterfly, thanks to Murn's intel.
Chris and you are out the front, hiding in the bushes at night and waiting for the politician's family to arrive. Emilia and Adebayo are around the side of the house, and John and Murn are in the van for surveillance.
In the little time that had passed you'd grown to tolerate - maybe even like - Chris' weird personality. You'd even discovered there was a soft side under there too, hidden under the macho bravado and dick jokes.
The hours of waiting give you time to chat.
"So, how did you end up here, Field?" he asks, passing you a flask of something hot in the darkness.
You take a sip before passing it back to him. "Uh, to be honest it's not a great story."
Heat travels up your neck as you retell the tale, remembering your failure. "I was tasked with keeping an eye on some of the other Project Starfish crew. The first time I saw King Shark I freaked out so hard I spilled my coffee on Waller. That was enough to send me here."
Chris lets out a snort of laughter, and then a noise in the bushes has you both snapping out of the moment, reaching for your weapons.
You and Chris both relax, and you watch as he eyes her in the dark, scanning over her face and body. He frowns, "What's up? Everything good?"
She crouches down beside the two of you, producing a small bag of trail mix. She offers some, and you and Chris both pick the bits you like out of the bag.
"We're good. Just making sure you two are doing your jobs, not that there's much going on." Emilia pauses, glancing sideways at you. "And you know damn well that wasn't the reason Waller sent you here, you bull-shitter."
Fuck.
You had hoped she hadn't been lingering around long enough to hear your story. Your lie.
And of course she knew about it. John probably did too. But that lie was what you told yourself had happened every single day to avoid baring the weight of your actual screw up.
It had been something so small. So insignificant. You thought Waller wouldn't find out, and you were fucking wrong.
"Oh?" Chris raises an eyebrow, "Keeping secrets from me, Field? That's not cool, man."
You open your mouth to say something, anything. But any form of lie or explanation dies on your lips.
"She gave Blackguard her number before he was shipped out to Corto Maltese."
And there is it, from the mouth of Emilia Harcourt. The real reason you're on this job, being punished by Waller.
Chris barely contains his laughter, biting at his lip as he does so. "Fuck, that psycho dickbag who died? No way, Field." He's really struggling not to laugh now, "That's why Waller sent you here? Damn, Vigilante was right about you, you are a freak."
His words were to be expected, you knew that what you had done was stupid and reckless and had literally lost you your job. Blackguard had been a good guy, you had thought, all things considered. He was nice to you during briefs, and you had thought that maybe if he somehow survived Corto Maltese and his sentence had been reduced, and Waller didn't know, then maybe...
Wait. Did Chris just say Vigilante had called you a freak?
"Sorry, your crazy friend said what about me?"
Emilia's eyes flicker between you and Peacemaker, just as confused as you are.
"Oh, come on, don't play coy. Vij says you guys are fucking. Hard. He’s very graphic about it, honestly.”
This time it's Emilia who can't hold her laughter, and she nearly topples in her crouch beside you.
"What? I barely know the guy, we're not fucking!" Your face is a picture of pure disbelief, and Chris takes one look at your reaction to know it's the gospel truth.
"Fuck." He sighs, "Sorry. Vee doesn't usually talk about sex like that so I figured he wasn't lying. He must really like you."
"Who really likes who?"
A voice comes from behind you, chirpy and light. The three of you whirl around, guns aimed, before you can even consider who the voice belongs to.
You see Vigilante, suited and booted all the way to his mask, with hands on his hips as though this were a daily occurrence, and he lets out a giddy laugh.
"Wait! Oh my god, you guys are funny." His movements are animated as he laughs and points between the guns aimed at him, "What are you doing?"
His laughter dies as you all lower your weapons. Chris shushes his friend, "Dude, what are you doing? And how long have you been stood there?"
"Uh, like two seconds. Otherwise I would have known who you were talking about because I would have heard you say who liked who. Duh."
Emilia literally puts her face in her hands, and you have no idea what to think, given Chris' latest admission. This maniac had said he was fucking you? God, your life was fucked up.
"How did you even get here?" Chris asks. Emilia moves in her crouch to sit beside you; she passes the trail mix bag to you again and you pop a pretzel in your mouth as the two of you watch the Peacemaker And Vigilante Show.
"In my Vigilante-mobile. Gosh, you ask the silliest questions, dude. I'm here to help, obviously."
Chris pulls a face, "The Sebring? Fuck, you're so weird, why do you call it a Vigilante-mobile? It's just a normal car."
"Hey, shut up." Emilia interrupts, flying a hand up to stop the bickering happening in front of you, "Murn says your friend has to stay."
Her face goes blank as someone talks into her earpiece. "The family, they're here. Chris, you're up."
The mood between the four of you changes. You go still as Chris aims his gun, Vigilante surprisingly shuts up, and any thoughts you had about him claiming to be your fuck buddy leaves your mind.
Harcourt listens to the instructions Murn gives her as the family come into view.
What you had all been waiting for was now going to happen in this moment. And as you watch it all unfold, it's like there isn't enough time.
The family begin moving from the car into the house. Goff is there, the wife and their two kids too. So are his bodyguards and his hired help, Judomaster. A whole family of suspected butterflies and Chris can't take the shot.
"Shit. They're going into the house, Chris." Emilia whispers, her voice on edge.
You shift uneasily on the balls of your feet slightly as you crouch, waiting for the shots to fire. The air is tense and you're dreading seeing these kids die, but what choice was there?
"Fuck." Chris punches the ground as the family enters the house, his moment gone.
You watch in horror as they come into view from the dining room window, seemingly changed.
Their demeanour, their faces, the way they move. All of it different from it was a second ago.
The intel Murn had was right, and it does horrible things to the trail mix that has settled in your stomach.
"Chris, take the shot." Harcourt's hushed order makes the hairs on your arms stand on edge. Time is fucking running out.
Beside you, you see the whiteness of Chris' skin as he pales, the way his hands shake, the way his breathing changes. He says, "I don't know if I can hit them."
You're about to tell him to take a breath, that he needs to calm down. That you'd give anything to tell him that he doesn't have to, that you'll find another way. But you know there isn't one.
"Hey dude," Vigilante puts an hand on Peacemaker's shoulder, "move over for a sec."
You watch as Chris collapses backwards, scooting on his ass away from the gun like it's a bomb waiting to explode. He looks shaken to his core - a killer who can't kill.
Humming turns your attention to the masked Vigilante now knelt beside you. He smells faintly of cedar and mint. You don't know the tune he's humming but that isn't what keeps your attention, instead it's what he does next.
Vigilante fires the gun and Goff's wife goes down first. You notice how the bullet lodges in the very centre of her head before she collapses to the floor.
The man has a marksman precision - focused and deadly, a contrast of what little you know about him. The boy and the girl are next, again both the same. Accurate shots, perfect aim, frighteningly impressive. Based on a display like that, if he'd been a choice for the Corto Maltese job, you'd have chosen him for the team in a heartbeat.
You hear Harcourt's voice shake as Goff's daughter does down and she says, "Susie Bear, out."
Vigilante stops humming and says, with glee evident in his voice that he's having far too much fun here, "And now, Papa Bear ou-"
All hell breaks loose as a scream erupts from the bushes, a man in green thrusting himself into the clearing. Judomaster.
You have enough time to stand and pull your gun before one man turns into a tornado of limbs and screaming, and of course you're closest to him. Judomaster's too quick, too experienced, and you've never been in the field like this.
You're smacked and sent flying before you even know what's hit you, and you hear Vigilante scream your nickname as your head hits the forest floor. You have one thought before you pass out: The Peacemaker job...what a joke.
You change your mind about that in the weeks that follow.
The Peacemaker job ends up feeling like the most fucked up family you've ever known, and Evergreen starts to feel like home.
Even after learning about Murn being a butterfly, even after his death, and even after Adebayo's betrayal towards Chris, they're the closest thing to friends you've ever had.
Chris is a troubled guy with a complicated past, but you see the good in him. You grow closer to Emilia and John, your linked pasts with Waller seemingly not the only thing you have in common with them. Adebayo's conscience had been torn due to her mother's pressure, but she has a good heart. Eagly hasn't bitten off any of your digits yet. And you learn more about Vigilante's real identity too.
The man under the mask, Adrian Chase, is the biggest dork you've ever met, and you gain respect for his skillset. He's also never brought up the fact he claimed the two of you were fucking.
After he'd purposely gotten himself put in jail, due to Adebayo's reckless words, you'd been the one to pick him up.
It was the first time the pair of you had been alone, and the first time you'd seen him without the suit. He'd taken one look at you as he got into the car, tears brimming his eyes as he'd said "I'm Adrian...I think I might have made things worse." and you knew it wasn't the right time to ask about it.
Since then, it had never been the right time. There had simply been too much shit going on.
But that didn't mean you didn't notice the way he looked at you a little too long, head cocked to the side and eyes attentive. Or the way he said his jokes a little louder around you, and didn't give up until you laughed. You noticed how he stood protectively beside you, remembered your Fennel Fields order, and called or text you every day to talk about animal facts, more than any of the other 11th Street Kids.
And worst of all, you let him do those things. You enjoyed all of it. You even found it weirdly endearing, no matter how many times Harcourt rolled her eyes and whispered to you, "It's just like Blackguard all over again."
So it's no surprise to you, when the six of you are stood in the forest a little way from the barn where the butterflies are keeping their cow, Adrian, all suited up, says "Everybody be careful, especially you, Field."
There’s a smirk on Chris’ face and Emilia tries to hide her smile.
“I’m sure I’ll be fine, Adrian.” You play it off, checking your ammo and trying not to feel the rush of warmth that his concern makes surge through your veins. “I did help you take down a gorilla remember? I’ve got skills.”
The comment gets a nose snort out of most of the team, but mainly none of you have the heart to laugh. Things are bad. Worse than bad. This is going to be the end of it, one way or another.
You, Chris, Emilia, and Adrian were the crew going in to take down the butterflies, while John and Leota were tasked with staying behind as the team's last resort. You all needed a miracle to survive this.
"What's the plan, man?" Adrian asks, pulling his attention away from you to look at Chris.
Peacemaker smiles, "Let's go kill a cow."
When the butterfly pandemonium breaks loose not fifteen minutes later, you decide you have enough field experience for a lifetime.
You're not sure how many butterflies you've shot but you know you don't have many bullets left. There's a slash on your right thigh and a cut across your left forearm, and you'll be bruised everywhere by morning. Your hands and knees are scraped, your clothes are torn and dirty, and you're down to one gun and a knife you pried out of a dead butterfly's hand.
There's action and blood everywhere. Gunshots and the screams of people falling are a cacophony of horror in your ears. Fuck knows where Peacemaker is - hopefully putting an end to all this crap.
You dodge a man sprinting towards you at full speed, diving sideways as he runs past you before spinning on your heels and firing a bullet into the back of his skull. His war cry dies with him and the machete he was carrying drops to the mud beside him.
And while you stare at the bloody mark in the back of this man's skull you don't notice a woman ten feet behind you, a butterfly you assumed was dead, stagger to her feet.
You don't notice, but Vigilante does.
Of course he does, because when he's not killing or trying not to be killed, he's been watching your every move. Making sure you stay alive.
Adrian's not far from you, not really. He could reach you in time, if only he could-
Vigilante drives his sword into the skull of the butterfly he's fighting with ease, plunging it into the man and out again as if he's slicing butter.
"Field!" He yells, but over the commotion of the fighting you can't hear him. There's not many butterflies left now - the hard work you'd done as a team was paying off - but these alien fuckers are noisy.
The female butterfly is on her knees, fumbling for a gun in the grass.
"Fuck it." Adrian mumbles, and then he's moving. Somersaulting over another man that's charging at him, slicing out with the sword, and landing on his feet again without even looking back to see the damage. At full sprint, he pulls a knife from his belt and flicks it towards the woman who's now aiming the gun at you. It lodges in her temple and she falls to the floor with a thud that gains your attention.
You spin, see the now-dead woman, and then a blur of black and teal is rushing at you, and two strong arms wrap themselves around you for a split second before pulling back.
"I swear to God, Field, don't ever do that to me again." Vigilante basically has to yell to be heard. His chest is heaving, and his armour is slashed up pretty bad.
Seeing him, getting a hint of that soft smell of cedar and mint underneath the layers of blood and sweat, pulls you out of your daze.
"Adrian-" He pulls out a pistol and shoots it behind you without his visor-covered eyes ever leaving yours. You hear the tell-tale signs of a body hitting the floor behind you. "Thank you."
"I've got your back, you've got mine, right?" You can practically hear the smile underneath the mask.
You're about to agree when a gunshot fires from behind Adrian. A butterfly in a cop's body is stood there, a smile plastered on it's beat-up face.
Adrian touches his side, and his fingers come away bloody. "Oh, darn it."
He pulls the remaining knife from his belt and launches it behind him as he collapses forwards into you. You throw your arms out and catch him as you watch the knife lodge into the cop's forehead.
"Shit, Ades-" You collapse with him, the weight of his passed out body bringing you down. So much for having his back.
For the rest of the fight you guard Adrian with your life. When you're out of ammo you use his guns, and they pack more of a punch than you're used to.
You see Harcourt go down - you can do nothing but scream. You witness Adebayo enter the field, disappear into the barn. You watch as Economos crawls to the field. You pick off the last few butterflies, and when the field is finally silent, you hear a light moan come from Adrian.
"What happened?" He groans, tentatively touching his side.
"It's done." You whisper, letting his gun slip from your hand as your body finally relaxes, "I think we won."
And then Chris and Leota come out of the barn and you know you're right. It's over, and you're all breathing, just.
You help Adrian up, and fling an arm around his waist as he leans on you to walk. Chris scoops up Emilia in his arms as it's the most important mission of his life. John holds on to Adebayo as if he's going to pass out.
You see the Justice Gang arriving in the distance, and Peacemaker gives them a piece of his mind.
"I can't go the hospital." Adrian whispers beside you.
You glance at him sideways, "There's a bullet lodged in your side. You need to see a doctor."
It takes all of your energy to support him, and as you walk across the grass you're really not sure who's holding up who.
"Field, please-" He winces, "I can't go to the hospital. I can sort myself out. Scout's honour." He lifts up his gloved hand in a salute.
"Fuck off were you a scout." It hurts to laugh, but you manage it, "But if you're going home, I'm coming with. You'll end up bleeding out on your kitchen floor."
Without much talking, the 11th Street Kids head back to the "borrowed" vet van you used, and Chris somehow manages to drive the thing to Adrian's house before heading to the hospital.
When you're on the sidewalk, Peacemaker extends a hand out of the van window and you clasp it with your own.
"Look after each other." He says with a nod.
"You too, Chris. You did good." You let go of his hand and watch the van go. A sickness has grown inside of you, and you're not sure if it's because you're worried for Emilia, or because of what you've all just endured.
Beside you, Adrian lets out a sigh and turns towards his house. He touches his side again, as if the bullet would have magically disappeared. He mumbles under his breath, "Evil aliens suck.”
His house is dark, and quiet. You know he lives with his mother, but you can't even hear another presence in his house.
You move silently, the two of you with laboured breath and the occasional curse as pain rolls through you. You fumble in the dark in unfamiliar territory as Adrian leads you through a hallway and down a flight of stairs.
At one point, you slip and miss a step. You land hard on the step two below you and swear as a jolt of pain courses up your leg.
"Sorry." You whisper, aware you're trying to be quiet. You try to swallow the pain with a groan.
Adrian reaches the bottom step and starts fumbling with some keys. He responds at a normal level, though you can tell he's speaking through gritted teeth, "It's whatever, you don't have to worry about my mom. She'd sleep through a nuclear bomb."
When he finishes with his multitudes of keys, the door opens and he flips the switch. You shield yourself from the light, and feel absolutely aghast when your eyes finally adjust.
"Adrian what the fuck is this?"
He walks through the room that is piled high with stacks of money, weapons, and illicit drugs. The guy books it straight for the futon in the corner and pulls out a first aid kit from underneath, wincing as he does so.
You shut the door behind you and stare. And then you sway on your feet a little, and his beige futon suddenly looks incredibly appealing. You sit down beside him as he thumbs through the first aid kit on his lap.
"It's drugs, Field. Have you never seen drugs before?"
He's finally pulled his mask off, and replaced it with his glasses. His curly hair is plastered to his forehead and there's a shine to him that tells you he might pass out again if he doesn't get that bullet out soon.
"Yes, Adrian, I've seen drugs before." You slump into the futon and tip your head back, eyes sliding closed.
You hurt everywhere, in places that you didn't know could hurt. The slashes on your arm and thigh have stopped bleeding, and now your clothes are crusty with blood.
"It's just stuff I find if I bust up a drug ring or whatever. Can't take it to the cops, they're corrupt as fuck."
You bark out a laugh that hurts your ribs. "Yeah, sure. Of course." This man was absolutely incredulous.
There's a moment of silence and you're not sure whether you've passed out or if Adrian is uncharacteristically quiet. You force your eyes wide and turn to look at him, and he's already looking at you.
"You're pretty when you sleep." Despite the torn up, bloody suit and the way he looks at least a quarter dead, you can't help but think he's sweet.
"Thanks, Ades."
You almost feel delirious - the fatigue that has ripped itself through you is almost worse than the pain. And the pain hurt, a lot. You're both looking at each other, dazed and injured and alive.
You're thinking about kissing him when he moves in slightly, eyes on your lips, and then he flinches so hard he screws up his face in pain. He hisses, "Piece of shit bullet."
The moment's gone before it even started but you push it out of your mind. You dig deep for a source of energy and you pull yourself off the futon.
Taking the first aid kit from Adrian’s hands, you let your mind slip into autopilot mode. You'd trained for this, even fixed up a few prisoners at Bell Reve under Waller's orders.
"Take off the suit. There's no way you're gonna be able to reach that bullet by yourself."
Adrian stares up at you, almost dumbfounded. His eyes are wide and although his mouth works, no sound comes out.
Finally, he swallows and says, "I- you sure? I'm probably flexible enough to reach around and- I do stretches you know, being a vigilante requires more than lifting weights-"
He's moving his hands around, pointing to the wound, but you can see every single gesture is flaring up the pain he feels. A beat later, when he notices the silent glare you're giving him that says you won't take no for an answer, he starts to pull off the suit.
You give him space to heave off the armour, grunting and groaning as he does. When all that's left on his top half is a ripped up and bloodied black underlayer, he looks terrible. Adorable, yet terrible.
He shuffles on the futon so his side is exposed to you, and gingerly pulls his shirt up to expose where the bullet is lodged. It's not deep, but it's bloody and looks a little hellish.
"It's gonna hurt."
The first aid kit in your hands has gauze, cleaning wipes, Band-Aids, and a singular condom that you know doesn't come as standard.
He sighs. "There's forceps and rubbing alcohol on the side."
Adrian nods to his work bench where there's a whole host of items. You glance over a Nintendo Switch, a sewing machine, a book titled Birds of The World, and a jar of multicoloured dice before you land on the things he's mentioned.
When you gather everything you need, you crouch beside him, your body screaming at you as you do so.
Your balance topples as your tired legs shake beneath you, and you grab out to steady yourself. Your hand lands on Adrian's thigh, where a piece of armour has come away. The fabric beneath is thick, but you can feel the warmth radiating off him.
"Oh, uh-" He looks down at you, eyes trailing from your face to where your hand rests on his upper thigh, as his brows knit together, "I know I'm the one bleeding out here but, like, are you good?"
You steady yourself and move your hand away, focusing back on the first aid kit that's now on the floor, to pull out a cleaning wipe. Your body immediately misses the heat and stability Adrian was providing.
"Yeah, I'm good. Sorry." You let out a huff of a laugh, downplaying the outright pain and tiredness you feel seeping into your bones. But you have a job to do, and Adrian is your sole focus right now.
Holding his shirt up, Adrian tilts his head to the side and lays it on the futon, eyes sliding shut as he does. He exhales hard, his breath fanning the top of your head from where you're crouched beside him.
"Hold still, okay?" You glide the cleaning wipe across the wound, your knuckles softly swiping the surrounding skin, and Adrian's eyes immediately pop open, eliciting small squeak of surprise.
"Don't be gentle," his words are tight, "I hate gentle. Soft skin touches are, like, the worst."
There’s a look in Adrian's eyes, one that tells you this isn’t just some weird quirk of his. It’s something personal, something deep.
“Okay," you give him a small smile, "Don't worry, I've got you."
You resume cleaning the wound, using more force than before.
"Thanks, Field." Adrian sighs, his voice more relaxed, despite the circumstances. His eyes slide closed once again.
When you pick up the forceps and slide the metal into the wound, Adrian’s torso doesn't even flinch. Instead, his face screws up tight and a gloved hand fists the fabric of the futon.
His breathing hitches before words start to spill out, "Crows- did you know crows are called a murder when there's, ah, a group of them?"
You find the bullet as the forceps scrape against something hard. His words almost slide over you as you focus, but his babbling continues.
"And they can recognise faces, so like- ow. Every crow you've ever seen knows you."
Moving with a painful precision, you draw the bullet out with a wet pull, and Adrian hisses in pain, his bird facts dying on his lips.
It's whole, thank God, which means you won't have to go digging in the wound for debris.
"I didn't know that." You say, even though you most definitely did. "Keep talking."
You thread a needle, hands surprisingly steady despite the wooziness you're feeling. Adrian's eyes are still closed, and he nods furiously at your words.
"Mhh-hm. They're really badass, crows- they're like my favourite."
You drive the needle through ripped flesh, tugging the thread tight. With every stitch Adrian lets out a noise or whimper, and his voice falters as you reach halfway, closing the bloody and ragged edges of his skin shut.
"Don't stop." You whisper, movements strict and proper. Adrian's blood is on your hands, and your fingertips are stained with the stuff.
"Okay- sorry. Uh, ravens are pretty cool too. They play games- fuck. And they can mimic human voices too which is totally fucked up. Like who, ah, taught them that?"
You swipe away the blood with another wipe and tie off the stitches in one swift move.
"That's got to be a lie, man. No way they can do that." This fact you're not sure about, and you talk just to keep him distracted.
"It is so true. It would be kind of a weird thing to lie about, Field."
When you clean the wound and start to cover it with dressing, you can feel Adrian’s body relax. He opens one eye to look at you, and then another, slowly.
"Did I do good?"
The question feels so out of place, so innocent and worried, that you can't help the way your heart melts, just a little. He's looking at you with an expression of a lost puppy, not someone that's just been stitched back together, and you cave.
"Yes, Ades, you did good."
And as if your words were permission, he smiles wide and softly crashes himself into the futon. You follow suit, and allow your butt to hit the floor, collapsing into a seated position.
There's a small silence - something that isn't common when Adrian's around. There's only the soft sound of your breathing mixed with his, and you find yourself fatigued from the events of the night.
"I really like it when you call me Ades."
"Can I use your shower?"
The pair of you speak into the silence at once and you miss Adrian's words.
"Huh?" You prompt him again.
He purses his lips, "Oh, uh, nothing. You can shower if you want- it's up the stairs, the second door on the left. It violently smells like lemon because my mom's obsessed with cleaning the tub, and there should be a spare towel in there."
Nodding, you force yourself to your feet. You give him a small smile and quickly take in the sight of him; Adrian no longer looks on the edge of death, and there's even a pinkness to the top of his ears.
He's still mostly in his torn-up Vigilante suit, and you're sure there's other cuts and scrapes under there, but he seems okay. His curly hair is flat and his glasses are a little askew. You're glad he's alive.
"Thanks." You say, and then you're moving to the door before your body can betray you.
Every step hurts, and you wince every time a floorboard creaks or you smack into something. You've never met Adrian's mother, and you're not sure if she sleeps as deeply as he claims she does - it would be pretty awful if she woke up and thought you’d broken into her house.
But you find the bathroom easily enough without waking her, and it really does have an overpowering smell of citrus.
The light inside is bright, and you take in the room.
Two toothbrushes sit in a pot, one orange, one teal. A row of shampoos, shower gels, and curl creams are lined up in size order at the edge of the tub, and the shower curtain is white with peach checkered edges.
You lock the door, trying to avoid getting blood on anything.
It takes all your effort to strip off your dirty and bloody clothes without catching a wound or wincing.
You leave them on a heap on the floor and try not to fall over when you kick your jeans off. You’re running on empty, and you don’t know how much longer you can function for before your body starts to shut down.
Yeah, you’d been on a few missions before, but not like this. You guess you finally earned your nickname.
It takes a minute to figure out the dials on Adrian’s shower, and when the water’s just warm enough you steady yourself into the bathtub, using the wall for balance.
The water washes over you in a glorious stream that causes you to sigh under its touch. It runs down your body, and you watch as the water at your feet starts to pool red.
The events of the day flash through your mind as you close your eyes.
You knew the Peacemaker job was always going to be cursed, but so much shit had happened in such a short about of time.
In your mind you hear Murn sacrificing himself for the safety of the team. Adebayo admitting to being Amanda Waller’s daughter. Vigilante threatening to kill the vets that had saved Eagly. John risking his life against the butterflies to plant the helmet. Emilia going down on the field, your own scream, Chris carrying her barely conscious body.
It’s all too much.
Your legs give out from underneath you and your ass hits the tub as your back slides against cold tile.
It hurts, everything fucking hurts, but you feel numb as you sit there, collapsed under the weight of your thoughts.
You’re about to try and haul yourself back up when you hear the cracking split of the bathroom door being kicked open.
The shower curtain is ripped away and Adrian is stood there, only in his glasses and boxers and absolutely gawking in concern.
And the commotion wakes up your senses.
You immediately try to pull the curtain closed again, using one hand to keep it there and another to try and hide parts of your naked body.
“Adrian!” You yelp, “What the fuck?”
“I heard a loud bang!” He retorts from the other side of the curtain, “I thought you passed out or something! I didn’t want you dying in my tub!”
“I’m good.” You let go on the shower curtain once you know it’s secure and try to move. You push off the wall, trying to use it as support, but you can’t.
Your muscles are shot, your energy is gone, and you’re one second away from losing it all and sobbing your heart out.
“Fuck.” You bite out as a familiar, unwanted feeling begins to prick at your eyes. And then it happens, relentless and silent, as the shower water mixes with your tears.
“I’m not good.”
Your voice is barely a whisper, and Adrian’s hand appears at the edge of the curtain, like he can’t decide whether to pull it back or not without your consent.
“I know, Field.” His tone is gentle, understanding. “I can help you, if you like?”
The tears keep coming, and when a wretched sob leaves your lips, Adrian takes your lack of disagreement as a yes.
He pulls back the curtain and reaches behind you to turn off the stream of water. You immediately miss the heat of it, but then he extends him arms to you and you let him loop his hands into your armpits to pull you up.
It’s shaky and unsteady, and he wraps an arm around you to gain momentum. For a second your chest is pressed against his, and you want to melt into him.
Your legs finally manage to find themselves beneath you, and you push away from Adrian sheepishly, feeling your bodies separate from each other.
“Don't worry, I've got you. You’re not going to collapse on me, are you?” He asks, and through bleary eyes you try to focus on his face.
But Adrian's hands are on your waist now, and he’s partially in the tub, basically naked apart from his boxers. You’re forcing yourself not to look there, but a small part of you wants too.
You’re too tired to be embarrassed by the bizarreness of the whole situation.
“I think I’m okay.” You blink hard a few times as you stop crying.
Adrian offers a smile, his expression sincere and concerned. “I’m not great at emotions, but I know what it feels like after your first big fight. The adrenaline keeps you on a high during, but after? Everything hits you like a train.”
He’s rubbing slow circles on your sides as if it’s second nature to him.
“It gets easier with time,” He nods encouragingly “and if it makes you feel any better, you’re a really pretty crier.”
You don't know what to say. He's half in the tub, half out of it, holding you and staring at you as if you're the most important thing in his world.
Surprisingly, you laugh. A small, genuine laugh that sneaks out of your lips involuntarily.
"I'm naked, that's the compliment you give me?"
"Well yeah," Adrian pulls a face, "you're very pretty and I'm not a pervert." His eyes shift from your face to your body, barely there but noticeable under your gaze. "But you do have great tits, if that is something you want to hear."
His cheeks flush a brilliant pink, and under the brightness of his bathroom light you see the way his green eyes sparkle behind his glasses with an emotion you can't quite name.
You grin, his words cracking open something lighter inside of you, easing the pain you had began to feel in your chest.
Fuck. Emilia was right, this was like Blackguard all over again… just way, way worse.
"Ades, I'm not going to pretend like this situation isn't a whole other level of fucked up and potentially pushes our friendship into the realms of I-don't-even-know, but would you shower with me? I don't think I have the energy to do this by myself."
He blinks once, twice. His thumbs stall the circles he was making against your skin. Then he nods, his own grin spreading so wide on his face you get to appreciate the way the sides of his eyes crinkle.
"Oh this is going to be so cool."
Adrian leans away from you for a second, and returns glasses-less before climbing fully into the tub. He then reaches behind you and the stream of water begins again.
You flinch as the water turns cold for a second, your bare shoulder brushing Adrian's chest, before the water returns to the warm temperature you'd set it to earlier.
Steam starts to rise between the two of you, and you drink in the sight of him for the first time.
He's gorgeous, and beautifully toned in all the right places. His arms and front are dotted with bruises of purple and grey, and you can see a scar on one of his thighs. You had seen the man in his Vigilante suit plenty of times, knew that there was muscle under there, but seeing it in the flesh makes your brain short-circuit.
Adrian reaches for the waistband of his boxers. There's an obvious tent that his erection is causing, and you feel your face flush as you look at it before you put a hand out against his chest.
Adrian stills, eyes dragging up your body as he does so as if he's purposely forbid himself to do so until this moment. It's slow and hungry, and when his eyes meet yours you can tell he's scared of what you might say.
"You can't get your dressing wet, which means you can't actually shower shower with me." It even pains you to say it, because God how you wished he could.
He sighs, and your hand falls away from him as you start to rub blood from your arms, letting the water cascade over you. "Fuck, yeah. I'd forgot."
Adrian's voice displays his obvious disappointment, but then he smiles again and his cheery tone returns, "Oh well, I'll just help you instead.”
He reaches for a shower gel - they're all designed for men but you don't care as long as it means you'll smell like him.
His fingers linger on the lid for longer than necessary, his eyes searching yours.
When you nod encouragingly, he steps closer just a little. He's avoiding being under the water but he'd much be rather under your gaze anyway.
Adrian squeezes out some of the soap into a washcloth and works it into a lather, before gliding the sudsy cloth over your outer arms.
Beneath the fabric, his touch is firm yet gentle too, and you close your eyes as he works.
Adrian traces the curve of your shoulder, sliding up to your neck and then back down your arm as he works the worst of the blood out, his hand feather-light over any cuts. He does the other arm with the same care, and you let him take his time with it, appreciating the warm water relaxing your stiff muscles.
When he moves to your chest your breathing hitches and Adrian's movements seem to pause.
You keep your eyes closed and lean into his touch, "It's okay. You won't hurt me."
"Believe me, Field, that is the last thing I would ever want to do."
Adrian resumes, washcloth gliding across your chest and stomach with reverence, as if he could spend hours doing this. Maybe he could. Maybe you would let him.
“You’re different with me.” You breathe out, almost a whisper.
Adrian takes your left hand, starts working at the tops of your fingertips that are stained with his blood.
“You make me want to be." you don't see Adrian bite his lip, pausing before he speaks again, "Peacemaker may be my best friend forever, but I don’t think he sees me like you do. He only calls me when he needs something, but you always reply to my texts. Even the animal fact ones.”
He switches to your other hand, wiping over each of your fingers, the pressure of his thumb digging into the grooves rhythmically.
“And you reply when I tell you I’ve killed a bad guy in a really fucking cool way. Plus, you call me Ades.”
You open your eyes and Adrian’s own flick up from your body to meet your gaze. They’re imploring, vulnerable, and deliciously green.
“You like that?” You can’t help but smile.
Adrian nods enthusiastically, “Yeah.”
He’s stopped cleaning you now, and he holds your hand in his, the washcloth separating your skin, “Like, a lot, actually.”
You don't expect the lump that forms in your throat, and the heat that sits there is warmer than the shower itself.
"When Waller put me on this job, I was dreading every second of it." You admit, letting the words come out before you doubt yourself, "I didn't know what I was getting myself into, but I could never have anticipated you."
You take the washcloth from Adrian's hand and give him a little nod to let him know you can take care of the rest. He takes a step back and watches as you wash the areas he hadn't reached - your back, your legs, the underside of your feet.
Adrian focused on you as you move through the motions, completely mesmerised by you. His curls have returned due to the humidity of the room, and you notice the boner he once had at the beginning of all of this is now gone.
Once the suds disappear down the drain and you finally feel clean, you reach a hand behind you to turn off the water.
It's immediately quieter in the room, and with Adrian being uncharacteristically silent in your presence, you take the opportunity to ask for some truths.
"Why did you tell Chris we were fucking when you first met me?"
And it's as if his trance breaks, bless him.
Adrian's eyes go wide, his alabaster skin flushes pink, and he practically jumps out of the tub to open a cabinet. He thrusts a plush towel at you, barely making eye contact with you as though he hasn't been staring at you naked for the past twenty minutes.
You take the towel from him, a loose smile on your lips.
"I uh- have no idea what you're talking about. Maybe Chris has another friend that he was referring to? Do you know any other guys called Adrian?"
You wrap the towel around your body, securing it around your chest with a tuck, and push back the shower curtain. Adrian is stood there awkwardly, fiddling with the arm of his glasses that now sit back on his face where they belong.
"Nope. Chris definitely said, and I quote, 'Vij says you guys are fucking. Hard.'"
Adrian grimaces, cringing at being caught out.
"Field, I know it sounds bad." He starts, and then the words start coming, with animated hand gestures in all of his Adrian-ness, "It's just when I really like a girl, I kind of say stuff- completely out of the blue. And then Peacemaker asked me what I thought about you and it just kind of came out. You're really beautiful, obviously, so you can't blame me for at least imagining what it would be like to fuck you."
He continues, "And I know you noticed my boner earlier and I totally didn't want to come across like a creep, but you were naked and being nice to me. You'd literally saved my life and you're one of my closest friends. So, you know?"
A grin plays on your lips. Adrian looks like a deer in headlights under your gaze.
But then he notices the way you're looking at him - soft, and undeniably affectionate. A smile breaks out across his face, small but knowing.
"That's the weirdest way anybody has ever told me that they like me." You say, stepping out of the tub to be toe-to-toe with him.
You wrap your arms around his neck as his hands come to your waist, only the towel between you, and Adrian's lips find yours in a kiss that has been weeks in the making.
It's messy and sloppy in a way that is telling of Adrian's experience, or lack thereof, but you don't care. He lets out a little noise, and you deepen the kiss as your fingers tangle in his hair.
Adrian's grip bunches the fabric of the towel, kneading into the skin at your waist.
You can imagine Emilia's teasingly disapproving voice in your head and it makes you smile into the kiss.
"This," Adrian pulls away breathless, planting little kisses on your lips as he speaks, "is the best and only way anyone has ever told me that they like me back."
You laugh and untangle yourself from him. He reluctantly lets go of you, but his eyes stay firmly locked on yours.
Behind him you see the door for the first time, partially kicked in with the frame splintered.
"Your mother really slept through all of this? You broke down the door."
Adrian shrugs as if to say it's no big deal, glancing at the mess like it's nothing. "I'll just buy another door tomorrow, it's whatever."
He quickly gives you a peck on the cheek - now he's finally been able to kiss you, he doesn't want to stop. "Plus, I'd break anything to keep you safe, Field. That's like, the rules."
"The rules, Ades?" You quip, your brows knitting slightly as you return his nickname. Adrian comes in to press a fresh kiss to your lips again.
"Yeah. The boyfriend rules." He says it so casually, you almost miss it. Then he turns on his heels and walks through the broken door, looking back at you over his bare shoulder as he notices your clothes on the floor.
"Come on, I have some clothes you can borrow. I've always been so excited for someone to steal my hoodies."
You laugh to yourself as Adrian turns down the hall and disappears into the darkness, humming a chirpy tune to himself.
When you first arrived in Evergreen, all those weeks ago, you thought that things were destined to go down in flames.
But now? Standing in Adrian's bathroom - in a borrowed towel of his, in his scent of cedar and mint - you begin to think maybe you're destined for something else.
Something surprising, and good, and in the form of a vigilante with a capital V.
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adrian’s balls deep inside of you, panting heavily , a thin sheen of sweat coating his forehead and acting as glue between his skin and sandy curls.
“a—and — oh fuck, yknow hummingbirds can fly backwards— shit!” his words come out panted and strained, your cunt clenching around him everytime he thrusts forward. adrian’s always been that one really, really, brainless guy, but in a way it was also endearing. the only time it wasn’t was now, when his tip was prodding your sweet spot.
“oh my god—adrian, shut the fuck up.” you gasp, nails making crescent shaped marks in his bare alabaster shoulders, because we all know he gets no sun.
“yes ma’am.”
it’s so messy and gross how he sloppily thrusts inside you, and so obviously clearly he’d gotten little to no pussy before you guys started this little.. arrangement.
your moans reverberated off the walls now, louder with each jittery thrust, the headboard of the bed slamming against the wall and no doubt creating a dent.
“it just—hah, funny, we’re like, like spiders, almost. they mate with—multiple other spiders.. and the female spider eats the male after. shit shit shit—“
and then he’s cumming, spilling his load into you and painting your walls white, unable to hold back. he’d never been good at holding out for you. but luckily, you’re not far behind, the warm, full feeling pushing you over the edge as well, adrian’s sweat soaked body slumping lazily next to you on the sheets.
he laughs, out of breath, running a hand through his damp curls, admiring how your boobs look as your chest rises and falls.
“we should do that again,” he says with a wide grin, like a giddy child excited about candy. you only manage a weak nod, sighing and shifting under the duvet.
That poor thing getting so pussy drunk you have to pull him back to reality. . .
You lost count of how many minutes his mouth had been working on your swollen flesh; at this point, you realize he's doing it more out of his throbbing hunger than for your pleasure. Beautiful lips giving firm sucks to your clit while he lightly laps it with the tip of that pink tongue, sending pleasant tingles straight to your core. Strong hands holding your sweaty thighs open as spit and your slick stain both of you.
He's swallowing everything you give to him like he needs it to live, his nose sniffing your mound like a pathetic dog to then go down to rub his nose on your sensitive clit, panting when his tongue plunges into the overwhelming musky heat to taste you from the inside, squeezing the flesh of your thighs when you gasp at the feeling. Eventually, he lifts his face from your cunt to catch his breath and fight the urge to come untouched, but you can't help but reach to touch his lust-filled face, giving him little pats on the cheek because he's such a good boy, all flushed and hungry and begging for more of your sweet pussy.
When he starts getting annoying and loud about wanting to taste you again, interrupting your moment of admiring his face, you slap him across the cheek, hard, which takes his breath away and his face burn immediately. Oh, you know how much he likes it. His chest goes up and down and his eyes close, licking his lips that still shine with your pleasure, you taste so good when you're not in a good mood.
🖋️ ` I haven't eaten pussy in so long I'm writing hollow soulless senseless tasteless pointless shit again.
💋it was rare, but whenever Adrian could give up two days of patrol, he would agree to go out with you.
💋 Adrian sits so patiently while you get ready, keeping conversation with himself. You swear he holds his breath at the same moments you do - eyeliner, mascara, anything to avoid messing up and starting over
💋of course when you do your makeup, he has to tell you how much you don’t need it. That you were sooooo sexy hot the other day and you didn’t even have makeup on! But he is still obsessed when you do a full face. Everytime the two of you talk you watch his eyes get caught in your painted lips. Your addition of body glitter is even more distracting for him.
💋at the bar, Adrian does whatever you want, as long as he can face the door. Can’t risk anything right? Between sips of beer he tells you how amazing you look in your little ‘going out’ fit and how excited he is to go home - with a wink of course.
💋after a few drinks, both of you are pretty much ready to go. Before you leave Adrian always has to go to the bathroom first. So you just wait by the door for him and stare at your phone. You weren’t really aware of the swarm of guys coming closer until one was on the verge of popping your personal bubble. His shirt is off, his muscled chest is flushed with pink, and he looks barely 21. You can feel your face twisting with discomfort as his mouth opens. “My friends wanted me to tell you-“ “it’s ok, you don’t need to tell me anything!” The young man looks confused and tries to recover. As he takes a step closer you put up your hands and say, “you don’t need to be near me either” right as the words come from your mouth you notice Adrian behind the group, watching from afar. You rush to him and take in his face. His jaw is clenched and seems to be trying to figure out a reason to kill any rando who approaches you. “Deep breath Ade, I didn’t even let him get 5 words out,” resting your hands on his chest, you try to get eye contact from him.
🧜♂️the only part of having a hot girlfriend that Adrian doesn’t like, is killing all the guys who hit on her. He could be gone for a SECOND and they swarm in like she’s prey. Curse his weak bladder, the three minutes it takes for him to piss is always the perfect amount of time for some douchebag to creep on her. Standing at the urninal, pants all the way down, Adrian has the angriest pee imaginable. When he’s done he washes his hands real quick and almost jogs to get back to you. And surprise, surprise, a posse of clowns are almost surrounding you, one almost touching you. His hands twitch for a weapon, but you don’t even let him bring anything when you go out. As he’s creating beautiful torture scenarios for every set of eyes taking in your curves, he watches as your face turns thunderous and you meanly shoo the boy away. Finally you catch him in the crowd and turn towards him. That’s his girl.
💋 Adrian is always such a gentleman by leading you around with his arm and helping you get into the car. You don’t need any help but it’s nice. He opens your door and when he buckles you in, he takes the opportunity to get a big hug. “You looked so good tonight, baby” he whispers in your ear. You can feel your face heat up and smile at him. He keeps going, “I want to say if you’re going to look this good we should stay home so I don’t have to kill anyone. Your butt is too sexy in this baby, it drives me and every other man crazy. Like you’re wearing a big ole sign that says ‘hit on me’” your eyebrows raise at that, “Adrian I try my best but I can’t help that they try to talk to me!!” He leans back and gives a big huff, “well I don’t see a sign that says ‘don’t hit on me’. “ and you explode with laughter.
💋at home, Adrian scrolls Facebook market place for beanie babies while you get ready for bed. Once your makeup is off and you’re changed into a nightgown, you join him on the couch. It’s easy to snuggle up into his side. Adrian’s arm instantly opens up and wraps around you, squeezing you close. A little drunk, all you manage to do is fall into his chest and sleepily watch his screen.
🧜♂️Adrian can’t help but get jealous when other men hit on you. He knows he’s older than you, dangerous, and you’re totally out of his league. All he can think about as he pulls you in for a kiss is how easily guys surround you like sharks in the water. You’re the tastiest piece of bait imaginable. The more he kisses you, the images in his mind fade and all he can think about is you. Slowly he ditches his laptop and crawls on top of you. His fingers find the hem of your night gown and pull it up high enough to find out that there’s no panties on underneath it. A helpless groan leaves his mouth as he looks down at you. “You’re mean, you’re mine, and you give me a perma-boner just like an alligator.” Then your sexy man pushes his glasses up before peppering your skin with kisses. He can taste the beer in your sweat, his kisses leaving goosebumps on your feverish skin. Adrian loves that your body is so extra reactive when you’re drunk - it’s impossible for you to hide anything. It only takes a couple kisses for your nipples to harden and Adrian takes care of them instantly. His rough hands palm and massage in tandem with his mouth. He only falters when you wrap your legs around his waist and grind into him. Warm wetness presses into his pants and nearly wraps around his cock, Adrian feels like he’s going to explode. He has to pull back and untangle you from him. Standing above you, he gazes at your body, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, and glides from your tired face, to your chest - covered in small bites, same as your hips, and finally settles his eyes on your pussy. Breathing heavy and completely single minded, a hand trails down your stomach until it reaches your folds, sampling your slick and driving a soft moan from your mouth. As he plays with your pussy he can’t help but think about the guy from before. His fingers get a little rougher, from a swirling finger to a thumb on your clit with two curling inside you. Underneath him, you become a moaning mess and he can’t help but love that only he’s allowed to do this.
adrian meets you for the first time, he’s crushing immediately but you’re a little iffy.
warnings: insecure reader, slightly mean reader, reader doesn’t really trust men, adrian’s a bit insecure and nervous too, drinking (takes place in a bar), back and forth between you and adrian’s povs
authors note: please do not interact with my stuff if you’re under 21! you will be blocked!
adrian and chris had been at the bar for at least an hour. it was their regular bar they always met up at after work, usually with the other 11th street kids. but, even with all the hours spent drinking here, adrian had never seen you here before. trust he’d remember that face.
you honestly didn’t look like you belonged there, too pretty, too sweet looking. this dark, dingy bar didn’t deserve to have you in it. he noticed you the second you had walked in. about a half hour ago with your friend, a look on your face that read you’d rather be anywhere else, maybe it was your friends idea to come here, maybe that’s why he’s never seen you. you nursed one drink and chatted causally to your friend sitting across the table from you. adrian, ever observant, didn’t take long to notice a few cute little habits of yours (twirling the same piece of hair, messing with the lemon on the side on your drink, crossing your legs and kicking your foot almost nervously)
“dude, you’ve been staring at that chick for like 20 minutes, it’s getting creepy. when are you gonna go talk to her?” chris’ words snap him out of his daydream.
“what? i have not been staring at her!” adrian tries to defend himself.
“hey man it’s ok! she’s kinda cute. go buy her a drink!”
“first of all she’s way more than “kinda cute”, second of all—“ adrian’s eyes suddenly snap over to chris, who now has a huge grin on his face.
“i knew you were staring at her!” chris laughs, slapping adrian on the back,
“look, i’ve never seen you actually have the hots for a girl before, you need to go talk to her!”
“ew, i dont “have the hots” for her,” adrian grimaces.
“all im saying is if you don’t go talk to her soon….” chris sighs, adrian’s eyebrows pushing together.
“…i’m going to,” he rests a hand on adrian’s shoulder.
adrians eyes go wide.
“please don’t.”
“i’m gonna have to,” chris shrugs.
“no! fine. ugh! i’ll go,” adrian slowly and nervously gets off the shaky bar stool he was sitting on next to chris, reluctantly making his way in your direction.
you saw him across the bar, of course you did. he’s been staring at your friend basically the entire time you guys have been in here. you’re used to guys staring at her, she’s gorgeous.
it’s only a matter of time before he saunters over and cringingly asks to buy her a drink, it happens everywhere you guys go.
you never get hit on and honestly, you don’t really mind. the guys that usually hit on your friend are….unique looking… to put it nicely. and of…. below average intelligence with little to no emotional maturity or respect for women. again, to put it nicely.
you much prefer to be left alone, your distaste for men growing everyday anyway (especially the losers in these bars). it makes you feel bad for your friend even though she doesn’t seem to mind much. ordinarily giving the guy the time of day, for reasons unknown to you.
aaaand here he comes, right on cue!
he’s nervously wringing his hands and adjusting his big silver glasses again and again as he approaches. you stare into your drink, awkwardly stirring the straw as you wait for the usual dorky pick up lines.
“hi, uh, i’m adrian. and i just um…was just wondering if you would be ok with me buying you a drink?” he clears his throat as a beat of silence follows.
god, this guy sounds like he’s never talked to a girl in his life.
the silence drags on and finally, you look over at your friend to see why she isn’t answering him to find her staring at you. with furrowed brows you look up at the man to find him staring at you as well.
you look side to side with just your eyes.
“were you talking to me?” you ask with a monotone voice.
“well yeah,” he gives a small nervous smile and pushes up his glasses again.
you laugh dryly at his response and he presses his hands together again, his shoulders starting to slump, looking like a kicked puppy.
“sorry, this was dumb. i’ll just go.” he mumbles.
“no wait, you’re seriously asking to buy me a drink?” you raise an eyebrow.
“yeah?” his voice shakes a bit.
“why?” you cross your arms.
“why?” he repeats.
“yeah, why?” you stare at him, eyeing him up and down.
“cause…well cause, i think you’re pretty and my friend said that this is what you do when you think a girl in a bar is pretty,” he gestures behind him at his muscular friend who tips his beer bottle towards you with a smile, taking a sip.
you laugh at him again and look him over some more.
he’s actually sorta cute, in a dorky way. he looks like he’d have a comic book collection and unfortunately you’re into that.
“i guess so?” you’re still unsure but you look over at your friend who’s smiling brightly and giving you double thumbs up.
his eyes go wide and his smile stretches across his entire face, “really? sick!” he clears his throat again, “uh, i mean, what would you like? to drink, i mean,” leaning on your table. he’s really trying to be “cool” but it’s not working at all.
you give him your drink order and he shoots finger guns as he turns to make his way to the bar. hitting himself in the forehead with his palm and shaking his head on his way over there.
your friend immediately grabs your hand.
“oh my god! he’s a cutie! and so nerdy! just your type!” she giggles.
you let out a small laugh,
“he’s probably just talking to me cause he was too nervous to talk to you first. 20 bucks says he’ll ask me for your number.”
“what? why would he do that?”
“you think guys don’t ask me for your number?”
her smile falters, “but he seems into you! and he was so nervous, it was so cute!”
“girl, guys are never into me. they don’t ask me out and they definitely don’t ask to buy me a drink,” you tilt your head at her.
“well maybe because you’ve never met this guy! maybe the universe was waiting!” she grips your hand tighter.
“ok that’s a little dramatic for a guy i just met at a bar,” you roll your eyes at her.
“omg he’s coming back! and i “conveniently” have to go to the bathroom,” she winks at you and shoots up out of her chair to leave you alone. your hand extends towards her and you open your mouth as if you’re going to yell at her not to leave you when the man sets your drinks down.
“i’m back!” he smiles brightly at you.
“i see that,” you nervously reach for your drink.
“what happened to your friend?”
there it is.
“what happened to your friend” trying to casually bring her up so he can ask if she’s single.
“i’m not giving you her number. if you want her number you should’ve just asked her, buying me a drink is not—“
“i don’t want her number?” he looks at you like you’re crazy.
“you don’t?”
“no, why would i? am i supposed to? cause i really don’t. i didn’t even notice her there until i walked up to your table, really. why would i ask to buy you a drink and then ask for your friends number, that’s crazy!” he laughs, probably louder than appropriate.
“you’d be surprised how many guys think that works.”
you grab at the stem of the cherry in your drink as he looks at you in surprise.
“is that why you were kinda mean when i asked to buy you a drink?” he asks sheepishly.
“oh, was i mean?” you ask condescendingly, pouting slightly.
“yeah you kinda scared me,” he admits while still smiling at you.
“and yet you still bought me a drink.”
“yeah cause like i said, you’re really pretty. i wanted to talk to you. well actually, to be honest, i didn’t wanna talk to you. i didn’t think you’d talk to me, but my friend kinda made me,” he winces.
“first of all you didn’t say i was “really pretty”, you just said pretty. also it’s great that you’re only talking to me cause your friend made you,” you roll your eyes at him.
“no that’s not why!” he waves a hand towards you.
you stare blankly at him.
“ok technically- if you wanna get technical, that is why. but it’s because he really wanted me to talk to you,” he defends himself, his voice getting a bit higher.
“i wouldn’t stop staring at you and he said it was creepy.”
“you were staring at me?”
“yeah, who else?” he laughs again like you’re crazy for thinking any different.
“it probably was creepy.” you deadpan but then give him a slight smile so he knows you’re joking.
“i wasn’t trying to be!” he whines, throwing his hands up.
you let out a small laugh and then pause for a moment,
“what was your name again?”
“adrian!”
“ok, adrian. what about me is so pretty to you?”
“you want me to tell you what i think is pretty about you?”
you nod, knowing he’s not going to have anything to say and you can prove that he really wants your friend.
“ok…well,” he begins, voice slightly shaky,
“the first thing i noticed was your eyes. they’re so big and pretty, i couldn’t stop looking. i like your outfit too, i don’t wanna sound like a perv but it looks really good on you. also your hair, it looks so soft and shiny. and your um, your lips, they look soft too,” he gets quiet at the end of his sentence but you still heard.
“and you smell good! which i didn’t know obviously until i was near you but still, you smell like a strawberry field!”
suddenly, you can’t look him in the eyes and you can feel your cheeks heating up. good thing you’re wearing blush otherwise he’d be able to see how pink they are right now. you’re not used to people, let alone cute guys, complimenting you.
“oh. well, thank you for the drink,” your voice comes out quieter than you mean it to.
“you haven’t told me your name,” he says after a moment of silence.
“well you haven’t asked, genius,” you cross your arms.
maybe you’re being a bit meaner to him that he deserves but whatever.
“shit sorry! ok, what’s your name?”
you tell him and he repeats it back with a smile.
“did you know penguins mate for life?” he asks suddenly.
“i did know that, actually.” you say, caught slightly off guard by the random animal fact.
“well did you know spiders dance to attract mates?” he leans excitedly towards you a bit.
“so what, are you gonna dance for me?” you laugh and tilt your head at him.
“do you want me to? i can.”
and then he’s out of his seat, next to your table, hands in his belt loops, moving his hips in a circle.
“oh my god stop!” you grab at him, a bit embarrassed, and make him sit back down as you laugh so hard your stomach starts to hurt.
“did it work?” he looks at you with big puppy-like eyes.
“that dance was supposed to attract me?” you’re still laughing so much you can barely get the words out.
“yeah! it’s the best one i’ve got! maybe you need to see it again.”
“please no! it worked, okay! i don’t need to see it again!” you force him to stay in his seat, covering your face a bit with your hand.
“ok i-i’ll stop as long as you don’t cover that…pr-pretty face,” he stutters through that line, trying to flirt but he’s obviously not very good at it, grabbing your hand to move it away from your face.
“ew that was so corny,” you scrunch up your nose.
he smiles wide at you in response. his smile is actually really cute, it’s so big it takes up most of his face and he’s got dimples.
damnit.
“did you know crows can remember faces?” he tells you.
“you sure know a lot of animal facts,” you smile at him because it’s weirdly appealing.
“i know so many! i could probably take a test right now and become like a zoologist or something.”
you giggle because unfortunately his big glasses and nerdy facts are charming you.
suddenly, you feel eyes on you. turning to your left, you see adrian’s strong friend still at the bar but now with three other people, 2 women and 1 super tall man, all staring at you guys.
“do you know them?”
he looks over to where you’re gesturing and sighs.
“yea sorry, those are my best friends and coworkers. we come here a lot but they’ve never seen me talk to a girl before so they’re just being nosey. you can ignore them.”
he waves his hand in their direction as if waving them off but just as he finishes his sentence an absolutely beautiful woman with dark braids starts walking over to you.
“hi! my name is adebayo! i’m really sorry to interrupt cause this is super cute,” she points between the two of you, “but i have to steal adrian.” she gives you a sad look as adrian whines.
“nooooo, seriously? why?”
“look, i wouldn’t if it wasn’t important, okay? we have to go.” she gives him a weird look that he apparently understands and he sighs as he starts to stand up.
“sorry, i actually do have to go. i really liked talking to you though,” he pouts.
“it’s okay, i liked talking to you too,” you stand awkwardly infront of him.
“you did?” he says it like he almost doesn’t believe you but you huff out a small laugh and nod your head yes.
both of you smile at each other for a moment too long before adebayo interrupts.
“but you got her number, right adrian?” she nudges him with her elbow.
“oh shit! i would’ve killed someone if i left here without your number.” he laughs and shakes his head.
weird joke but okay.
he fishes for his phone in the pocket of his jeans that look like a dad from a 90’s sitcom should be wearing. you get your phone out of your purse and you swap, typing your number in as he types his. when you trade back he notices you put a little pink heart emoji next to your name and his stomach does a small flip.
he thanks god for ads reminding him to get your number even though, had he forgot, he 100% would’ve just found you and followed you around a bit to see you again. there was no way he was letting you get away.
“well, we really gotta go! nice to meet you girl, you’re adorable!” adebayo smiles as she drags adrian, who hasn’t taken his eyes off you, away. you give him a small shy wave, wiggling your fingers and he copies you, tripping over his own feet as the woman pushes him away.
he meets back up with the team and they immediately leave the bar, harcourt explaining that she’ll go over the mission on the way there. he steals one more glance at you before he’s shoved out the door and he can’t believe that you were already looking at him, your friend back by your side, a big smile on her face, you two no doubt talking about him.
maybe he should feel too needy about texting you immediately but he can’t stop himself. his fingers hit send before he even has his seatbelt buckled in the back of economos’ van.
adrian 🧜♂️: did you know that if the female spider doesn’t like the male spiders mating dance, she eats him?
why the hell did he save his name with the mer-man emoji? he’s so weird, you think as you smile to yourself.
you: good thing i wasn’t hungry
adrian laughs out loud at your response, making the rest of the team look his direction.
“awwww look who’s texting his girlfriend,” chris teases, tousling adrian’s hair.
“she’s not my girlfriend,” he rolls his eyes and unsuccessfully bites back a smile.
“this is so cute,” ads smiles.
“it’s weird. but anyway you need to focus.” harcourt adds, harshly.
adrian pouts but puts his phone away, already thinking about how when this mission is over he’s going to call you and tell you every manta ray fact he knows.
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adrian kissing your pussy after he absolutely destroyed you because he was full of adrenaline after a crazy mission
😵💫😵💫😵💫 FUCK!!!!!!! just little tiny pecks while he looks up at you with glossy, puppy dog eyes and an apologetic grimace, he murmurs "fuck m'sorry, didn't mean to get rough like that babe, here- lemme kiss it better-" it's a kiss that makes your whole body jolt, then another, and then another.... eventually he's slotting his whole mouth in there, though you were complaining and whining at the tenderness and oversensitivity at first, in the end you're digging your hands in his hair and begging him not to stop oop
synopsis: Adrian, Chris, and Ads leave for their mission. With two Alphas crammed into the tiny van together, things start to get tense, until Adrian reveals exactly why he wants nothing more than to wrap things up and go home to you.
tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, omegaverse dynamics, alpha!Adrian, omega!reader, fluff, talk about heats/ruts/marking, Checkmate mission (stakeouts, undercover shit, Adrian kills somebody bc it wouldn't be a mission without it), Adrian and Chris bickering
word count: 5.6k
notes: Thank you as always to @embeanwrites and @snowyathena for the beta read, and also shoutout to Panera Bread bc I wrote this entire chapter in like two and a half hours fueled by broccoli cheddar soup ALSO! I will be on vacation next week so I will not have time to write. So no update next week!! but I will try to have another treat ready for you instead <3
Masterlist | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight
“It’s a small scale mission,” Adrian had told you. “We are gathering information. Nothing dangerous.”
More like nothing at all.
He’s bored out of his fucking mind. It’s the third evening of stakeouts, surveilling a shitty, shady bar in a shitty, shady part of San Francisco. Adrian had been so stoked to finally get back out in the field and go on a mission that he’d forgotten that sometimes it’s just…a shitton of waiting around. And he is literally itching to get to the killing part.
“This is the kind of place people go to hire people like Murn,” Chris explained on the first day. “Emilia said he mentioned this bar to her one time. It looks like a shithole. A lot of…unsavory types find business here.”
It’s Chris’s turn on watch, sitting up front in the driver’s seat, keeping an eye out for familiar targets that have been burned into Adrian’s brain at this point. Ads has her attention turned to a computer screen, connected to the van’s subtle security cameras, which she’s pointed at the bar entrance.
Adrian has read the dossier dozens of times, committing their names and faces to memory. You, Emilia, and John had finalized everything. The people they need to track down, the questions they need to ask them. And Adrian is ready to bribe and threaten and kill and do any number of other illegal things in order to take them down. Protect his pack. Protect you.
Leon Sullivan. Devon Mason. Lydia Grimmaldi. Hilary Young. Selena Falko. Nathaniel Wilde. He repeats the names in his head, matches the names to the faces on the screen.
The dossier is open on a laptop in front of him now. He clicks away at it, not actually doing anything productive, just changing the font of the dossier and scrolling up and down like that might make it say something new and different and interesting. It doesn’t.
Adrian sighs forlornly and starts fidgeting with a switchblade, flicking it open and closed, wishing there was a bad guy’s face nearby for him to throw it at.
Chris and Ads have been watching him bounce off the walls of the van with barely restrained irritation for three days, giving him as much grace as they can because they know how anxious he is about the fact that he had to leave you behind.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, putting the switchblade away. He sighs again. His foot starts tapping. Ads rolls her eyes.
But he misses your voice. He misses the way you smell. He misses kissing you whenever he feels like it. He’s been spoiled the last two months. He spent years wishing he could, and now that he can, now that you aren’t within his immediate reach, he feels like he’s going through withdrawal.
When he opened his duffle bag and discovered that you packed him the picnic blanket you always sit on together in the Checkmate courtyard, his throat had closed up with emotion. You’d tucked a little note into it. Be safe. I love you. Sleeping with that blanket every night, cocooned in your shared scents. Hearing the sound of your voice on the phone, or seeing your face on a video call if he’s lucky—they’re the only things keeping him sane.
Well, that and the fact that he’s gone out to blow off some steam each night by taking down some regular street criminals. He’s been itching to kill, even more than usual, fueled by some kind of almost-uncontrollable aggression. And as long as he’s taking it out on some bad guys, he’s less inclined to explode at his teammates. Chris might be Adrian’s best friend, but several days of two Alphas crammed together in the close proximity of the van has been driving them both up the wall.
When he sighs with frustration for the fifth time in ten minutes, Ads finally speaks.
“Why don’t you take a minute and call—”
“Excellent idea,” Adrian says immediately, already pulling out his phone and tapping on your contact. He’s checked it a thousand times today already, hasn’t stopped texting you, but he feels like it’s overkill if he spends too much time on the phone with you. He is, in fact, supposed to be working, no matter how boring the work.
He taps the call button and brings the phone right to his ear, hit foot continuing to tap impatiently as he waits to hear your voice. It never comes—just the robotic sound of the automated voicemail telling him to leave a message. He frowns.
“Hi baby,” he says. “Call me back when you get this. I love you. I miss you—”
Chris’s voice, low and serious, interrupts him.
“Hang on—look. There. That one. Ads, play back footage.”
“Oop, things are happening,” Adrian says quickly. “Gotta go. Call me. I love you—”
“You already said that, Adrian,” Chris mutters, annoyed. “Hang up the phone. We’ve got shit to do.”
Adrian’s frown deepens, but he disconnects the call and crowds around the monitor with Chris and Ads as she does what Chris asked, tapping away at the computer keyboard and rewinding just a minute. Chris points at a man with brown skin. Long, floppy hair sticking out of an old worn beanie. Hands shoved into the pockets of a black denim jacket.
“That guy.”
“I’ve seen Emilia wear that exact outfit before,” Adrian observes. “Is that like, a required black ops thing? Owning a black jean jacket? Should I invest in—”
“Shut up,” Chris says. “Zoom in, Ads. Is that Dev Mason?”
“Sure looks like him,” Ads says, and Adrian thinks, finally.
What he doesn’t expect is the murderous rage that roars up inside him when Ads zooms in further and he gets a closer look at the man’s face.
You got hurt because of this dickwad.
“I’m gonna kill him,” Adrian says. “I’m gonna make him tell me where the rest of them are, and I’m gonna kill him.”
His fingers twitch around the phantom trigger of a gun. No, he thinks, I’ll use my katana. Slit his throat. Make him bleed just as much as you bled, let it spill out on the dirty street, let him die alone and scared, like he fucking deserves.
He starts reaching for the duffle bag with the Vigilante suit.
“No,” Ads says immediately. “You can’t just go in there guns blazing. We haven’t gone inside. We don’t know what it’s like in there.”
“She nearly died because of that asshole—”
“Adrian,” Chris snaps. “Use your brain. I know you love her. You can’t let that be a liability.”
“Excuse me?” Adrian snaps right back. “I’m sorry. I thought I just heard you call my Omega a liability. Are we doing the whole thing where you’re yanking my leg to set me off again? Because if you are, it’s fucking working. I’ll punch you in the mouth, no questions asked—”
"You're gonna get yourself killed without a plan,” Chris says, stone-faced. “I’m not yanking your leg this time. I’m being serious.”
“The plan is I go in there and kill everyone,” Adrian argues, raising his voice. “This is a shady bar. They’re all criminals! We’ve watched how many drug dealers walk in those doors? And I have been sitting here patiently and not killing any of them yet while we waited—”
“If you run in there as Vigilante you’ll freak everyone out. Mason knows Vigilante works with Peacemaker at Checkmate,” Ads says calmly, trying to calm down the two Alphas that are getting more worked up by the minute. “I’m the media face of the business. I’ve been in the news and shit, just like Chris has, after Task Force X. But no one knows who you are, Adrian. You’ve somehow, miraculously managed to fly under the radar all these years.”
“It’s not a miracle,” Adrian says. “It’s because I’m smart. My uniform covers my whole body for a fucking reason. As an instrument of vengeance I have to be anonymous. If Chris and Judomaster would take my advice and rebrand with new suits with masks they could also fly under the radar. But both of them are self-centered and too concerned about showing off their muscles. I know you have a jacked face because of your muscle exercises, bro, but really—”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“The point is that people will recognize Chris,” Ads continues, unphased. “So you need to go in there undercover and scope the place out before we make any moves.”
“You want me to go in there and mingle with the criminals?” Adrian summarizes, disgusted. “Absolutely fucking not—tell her, Chris—”
“She’s right, Vig,” Chris says. “You don’t have to pretend to do criminal shit. You don’t even have to talk to anyone. Just go in there, order a drink. Look around. You’ve been bored out of your mind, haven’t you? Well, now you’ve got a task to do.”
“Traitor,” Adrian grumbles.
“I’m not the traitor, you’re the traitor,” Chris grumbles right back. “My costume is sick as fuck. Fuck you.”
An hour later, Ads finishes attaching a tiny earpiece to Adrian. He keeps checking his phone, waiting for another message from you. You’d texted him back twenty minutes ago—a quick sorry I missed you, was with Emilia, talk later, love you too—but nothing since.
He reaches for the device again, and Chris steals it out of his hand.
“Fucking focus dude. What is your deal? She’s home! She’s safe!”
“Give it back!”
“Smooth out your shirt,” Adebayo orders, ignoring them. “You look all rumpled.”
“Why do I have to wear Chris’s clothes?” Adrian complains as he snatches his phone back and slides it in his pocket. “I have my own clothes.”
“Because you dress like a fifty-year-old dad,” Chris says. “Your Vig suit might be sick as fuck but the rest of your wardrobe needs some fucking work.”
“Hey!”
“Shit talk my Peacemaker costume, I’ll shit talk you right back,” Chris says plainly.
“I specifically asked you when we went shopping—”
“Stop bickering! Jesus Christ!” Ads cries. “The two of you have been unbearable the last two days!”
“That’s what happens when you’ve got two Alphas in such close proximity,” Chris says matter-of-factly. “And one of them is being annoying as fuck.”
“More like two of them are being annoying as fuck,” Ads mutters. “Are we sure this is a good idea? Sending him in there when he’s all on edge like this?”
“He’ll be fine,” Chris says firmly. He makes eye contact with Adrian. “Right, Vig?”
“I know how to do my job,” Adrian says.
“I know you know how to kill people. I need you to keep a level head,” Chris says. “Sending in an Alpha for undercover work is not ideal. But there will probably be a bunch of other Alphas in there, so you won’t stand out too much. It’s a double-edged sword, though. You gotta keep a level head around all those assholes.”
“I will,” Adrian insists.
“Good. If I bring you home dead, your Omega would fucking kill me,” Chris says.
“Can I go now? The sooner I find this guy the sooner we can torture him for information and kill him.”
“The earpiece is working?” Ads checks. “We’re not gonna have a visual on you in there, so we need the audio.”
“It’s working.”
“Then yes,” Chris says. “Let’s get this over with.”
The inside of the bar looks just as shitty as the outside. Dimly lit, smoky, walls with chipping paint and crooked old decor. It stinks of weed, and Adrian thinks the thin powdery film on the bartop might be cocaine.
He fucking hates it. But he keeps his mouth shut. Sits at the bar in the darkest possible corner and orders a beer he’ll only pretend to drink as he scans the room.
“I don’t see him,” he whispers into the beer bottle as he pretends to drink. He lets some of the alcohol splash onto the counter. It’s already sticky and gross anyway. He doesn’t feel bad about it.
“Is it only the one space?” Chris’s voice rings directly in his ear. “Is there a basement, or a back room?”
Adrian’s eyes latch onto a man in an army green shirt coming out of the kitchen. He looks a little shifty, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He nods at the bartender as he takes a seat at the bar, and the woman who had served Adrian his beer pours some hard liquor into a short glass for him.
Not an employee. So what was he doing in the back?
“The kitchen,” Adrian says quietly, trying to move his mouth as little as possible so it doesn’t look like he’s talking to himself. “Some guy just walked out of there. Not an employee. I can sneak back there. I know my way around a kitchen from my busboy days, and I’m armed.”
“Stand down,” Ads says. “Finish your beer. Get out of there, we will regroup and make a plan to get back there tomorrow, somehow. It might be accessible from a back door.”
“Fine,” Adrian grumbles, annoyed that he actually has to sit here for another half an hour doing nothing. “Next time someone else is going to do the investigation. I’m here for the killing, not for the boring shit. If I wanted to watch people in a bar, I’d go back to Fennel Fields.”
In the end, though, Adrian is glad that he stuck around, because he sees Dev Mason come out of the back room not fifteen minutes later. He stops to say something in a low voice to the other man at the bar and shakes his hand. Something passes between them. Money, maybe.
Adrian can feel himself getting hot with anger. He could get up out of his stool right now and strangle the man. It takes all his self control not to.
“Mason just came out of the back,” he hisses. “He’s…paying the other guy, maybe?”
“Weird,” Chris says. “I would have thought the other way around. That someone is paying him for his mercenary services.”
“He’s leaving the building,” Adrian says, taking one last fake swig of beer and dropping a twenty on the counter to pay for it. “I’m following him.”
“No,” Ads says. “We have eyes on the van cameras. We can see which way he goes. Don’t draw attention to yourself.”
Adrian is going to listen. Really, he is.
But then the other man leaves, too, just a few minutes behind.
He makes his way, casually, out the front door, following the army-green jacket. He glances up and down the block and doesn’t see Mason, but he catches a glimpse of the other guy’s army-green jacket disappearing down the block. He starts after him.
“What the fuck are you doing Adrian?” Ads asks. “Do not engage!”
“I’m going after him,” Adrian growls. “He has to know something. I’m done waiting around for shit.”
“Adrian, stand down,” Chris says, voice booming directly into Adrian’s eardrum so loudly that he winces. He pulls the earpiece out and pockets it, taking the opportunity to draw the switchblade out of his pocket.
Adrian catches up to the man just as he rounds the corner, and shoves him into the nearest dark alley up against the rough stone wall. The guy grunts at the impact, Adrian’s elbow digging into his sternum and knocking the breath out of him. He looks up with wide, confused eyes.
“Hey man,” Adrian smiles, pressing his knife into the man’s throat.
“Who the fuck are you?” the guy hisses.
“That’s not important,” Adrian says, falsely bright. “Saw you talking to someone tonight. Dev Mason. You know him?”
A flash of recognition passes over the man’s features.
“What if I do?”
“Then tell me where he went, and maybe I won’t kill you.”
“Kill me?” the guy scoffs. Adrian just stares, silent, and watches wary fear grow in his expression. “What—what do you want with Dev? You want to hire him?”
“I do my own killing, thanks.”
“I’m not telling you shit.”
“Look,” Adrian says, “I’ve got an Omega back home, and she got hurt, because of something he did. So when I find that asshole, I’m going to kill him long and slow. And you still haven’t answered my question, so I’m going to kill you too. But if you give me the info I want, then I won’t torture you beforehand. I’ll make it nice and quick.”
The switchblade digs into the thin skin at the man’s neck, drawing a thin line of blood. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.
“I don’t know where he went,” he says, voice thin.
“I don’t believe you. I saw you talking to him. Exchanging money.”
“I’m just his dealer!” the guy exclaims, voice shaking. “You—you want something? If you let me go—you can have all the coke I have on me, man. No charge.”
Adrian scowls. “Do I look like I do drugs, you dickwad?” He grips the man’s jaw with one hand so hard that his teeth grind together. “Dealing cocaine is a felony. Did you know that? You probably did. And you do it anyway. Do you know what I do to criminals?”
He shoves the man down on his knees, where he hits the pavement with a cry of pain and a crack.
“Vig, what the fuck are you doing—”
Chris storms into the alley and takes in the scene in front of him. He sounds pissed as hell, and Adrian couldn’t care less. He turns to bare his teeth at his best friend.
“Fuck off, Chris,” he growls.
“Help me,” the guy on the ground says pitifully, looking at Chris with pleading eyes. “This guy just attacked me right off the street, he’s fucking insane—”
“Tell me where Dev Mason went!” Adrian demands.
“I don’t know! I don’t know, I swear I don’t know—please don’t kill me—”
Adrian lets out a disgusted sigh and pockets his switchblade. The man lets out a shaky sigh of relief.
“Thank you,” he says. “Tha—”
Adrian’s hands circle his neck, and with one sharp movement, he snaps his jaw to the side with a sickening crack. The man crumples to the ground dead, his lifeless eyes staring into the sky.
“What the fuck was that Adrian—”
“Well I couldn’t exactly slit his throat! That’s messy as fuck! There would have been so much evidence!”
Chris just looks at Adrian and shakes his head.
“You’re a fucking psycho, Vig,” he mutters, looking down at the body. “Jesus fuck.” He presses a hand to his ear. “Yeah, Ads. I found him. We’ve got a body to deal with. We’ll take all his shit. If anyone finds him, they’ll assume he got mugged.”
“He’s a drug dealer, actually,” Adrian says pleasantly. “They’ll assume it was related to that.”
Chris ignores him, silently fuming, as he reaches down to dig in the man’s pockets.
“Hi baby,” Adrian says later that night once he’s showered and changed into his pajamas. He’s curled up on the motel bed, the picnic blanket wrapped around his shoulders. When he closes his eyes and breathes in, he can pretend you’re sitting right next to him when you respond. Just the sight of you over the video call is helping him relax after the tense evening he’s had.
“Hey, Ade,” you say. “How’s the mission going?”
“It’s okay. We caught sight of one of the guys going into the bar tonight. Dev Mason. I went in, just for a beer, to scope the place out. Saw him buy some drugs from a guy. I followed the dealer. Killed him.”
“Yeah,” you say wryly. “I heard. Ads texted me. Said you were a little trigger happy.”
“I didn’t pull a single trigger tonight,” Adrian says. “I didn’t even have a gun on me. I snapped his neck with my hands.”
“Okay,” you say, rolling your eyes at him. “It’s just an expression, honey. I meant that…did you really have to kill that guy? Or did you jump the gun a little bit?”
“I didn’t have a gun,” Adrian repeats, confused. You sigh.
“Okay,” you say softly. “As long as you’re being careful. Just—listen more to Chris and Ads? You don’t always have to go in for the kill right away. I know you’re feeling a little antsy. I don’t want you to take any unnecessary risks, though. You promised me you wouldn’t get shot, remember?”
“I didn’t get shot! And I got us some really valuable information!”
“What did you find out?”
“We took everything in the guy’s pockets, to make it look like a mugging,” Adrian explains. “He had his phone. Ads was able to hack it. Dev Mason is in his contacts. We’re gonna send him a text to meet on the street corner the day after tomorrow at eleven p.m.”
“You should probably send a follow-up that the dealer is sending one of his ‘guys,’” you point out. Give him your description. Then you can meet him in person, and he’ll have his guard down.”
“Good idea. I’ll text Ads after this. She’s got the phone.”
“I also hear you and Chris are butting heads a little bit.”
“Yeah, well. I love the guy. He’s my bff. But personal space is at a premium inside that tiny van,” Adrian grumbles. “But that doesn’t matter. I can handle it, I’m good. Are you feeling okay? How are your symptoms?”
“I’ve been nesting,” you admit, gesturing behind you at the headboard of your bed and holding up a pillow that has clearly been punched into submission. “John helped me move all your stuff into my apartment, like we talked about. I can’t stop rearranging it all. Every time I move something, another thing feels wrong. I think it’s—” You pause, like you’re not sure you should finish your sentence.
“It’s what?” Adrian prompts.
“It’s because there’s something missing.”
“You have my Amazon log in,” Adrian says. “Order whatever you need, baby—”
“It’s you,” you say softly. “You are the thing that’s missing.”
Adrian inhales at the sudden, sharp pain he feels in his chest at your words.
“Do I need to come home?” he asks worriedly.“No. Don’t even answer that, I’m coming home—”
“Adrian,” you interrupt. “I am fine. I promise you, if I needed you, I would tell you.”
His eyes flicker over the screen as he looks you up and down. You look okay.There are no dark circles under your eyes, and you’re not too sweaty. Nothing that tells him you’re too hot, or struggling to sleep. But—your hair was damp from your evening shower. Maybe you are sweaty. Hot. Uncomfortable.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to—”
“Wanting is a different story,” you say with a soft laugh. “I always want you home with me. But my heat has not started, so I don’t need you yet. Chris and Ads need you more right now.”
Adrian’s heart hurts. You don’t need him, but you want him. And he’s hours away.
“How are you doing?” you ask. “Ads said you’ve been jumpy.”
“I’m just worried about you,” he says fretfully. “And the last couple days have been boring stakeouts so I’ve had nothing to do but think about the fact that you’re at home alone and—”
“I’m not alone,” you remind him. “I’m still going to work every day. I’m still seeing the rest of the pack. I am doing just fine. I swear to god, all of you worry too much.”
“Who else is worrying? I didn’t tell anyone about—that you’re—”
“Emilia knows. That’s part of the reason I was with her earlier today, when I missed your call. She wanted to give me one last physical today to make sure I’m in good shape, that I won’t hurt myself when we…” You clear your throat. “Things can get more, uh…vigorous than usual? During my heat, I mean.”
Adrian flushes hot at the implication, and internally curses the bolt of arousal that shoots right to his lower belly at the thought of it. But there’s another feeling, too, swimming in his gut. Terrible, possessive jealousy, when he thinks of Emilia’s hands on your body, checking you over, touching you, getting another Alpha’s scent all over your skin when you’re so close to your heat. An uncontrollable growl rises up Adrian’s throat.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry,” Adrian says. “I just—I’m trying really, really hard not to be a pathetic, possessive dickhead right now.”
“It’s okay, baby,” you tell him. “I’m used to this—my preheat symptoms. This is all new for you. It’s normal for Alphas to be more protective over their Omegas when their heat is approaching.”
“I just really fucking miss you,” he says, his voice tight. “I wish I was there.”
“You’ll be home soon,” you say. “It’s late. You should get to bed. I don’t want to keep you, you need to sleep, especially if you’re going to be meeting up with Dev.”
“Can you just…stay on the line?” Adrian asks. “Let me look at you?”
“I was just gonna sleep—”
“I know,” Adrian says. “Just prop the phone up on the nightstand. For me.”
“Okay,” you smile. He watches you flick off the lights and climb into bed, pulling the covers all the way up to your chin. You hug the teal teddy bear to your chest. The one you’d given him during his rut.
“Is it stupid that I’m jealous of the fucking teddy bear right now?”
“No. Because I’m jealous of the blanket draped over your shoulders.”
Adrian smiles. “I love you.”
“Love you too. Goodnight.”
You fall asleep within fifteen minutes. Adrian watches you sleep for an hour before his own eyes finally droop shut.
The next morning, Adrian meets the others in Chris’s motel room so they can make a plan for the evening. When he knocks on the door and Chris lets him in, Adebayo hasn’t arrived yet.
“Where’s Ads?”
“She went to get breakfast,” Chris says, gesturing for Adrian to sit. The serious look on his face gives Adrian pause.
“What’s up?” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed. Chris stays standing and crosses his arms.
“You’ve been real irritable the last couple days. What the fuck is going on with you?”
“Nothing,” Adrian lies.
“I just talked to Emilia yesterday, so I know everything is going just fine at home. If there’s something going on with you, you gotta tell us, man. I don’t want us to be at each other’s throats.”
Adrian bites the inside of his cheek. “If I tell you, you won’t say anything?”
“Spill, Adrian.”
“She’s in preheat,” Adrian reveals, and Chris’s eyes widen.
“Oh,” he says. “Oh, shit. Why didn’t you say anything, dude?”
“It’s none of your fucking business, that’s why,” Adrian says sharply. “She told Emilia, so I’ve already got another goddamn Alpha all up in my fucking business.”
“Watch it,” Chris says, just as sharp, when he hears the low growl in Adrian’s tone. “What did I tell you about the growling?”
“You told me not to growl at her. I’m growling about her,” Adrian says petulantly.
“Don’t get fucking sarcastic about my mate right to my fucking face. I will shoot you. On top of the fucking risky shit you’ve been pulling the last twenty-four hours—it’ll be a miracle if you get home to your Omega in one piece. Maybe you aren’t ready to be an Alpha. Because a good Alpha would keep a level fucking head—”
Adrian gets up and lunges for Chris just as Ads opens the door to the room, with coffee and bagels for all of them.
“What the fuck is wrong with you two?” she cries.
Chris and Adrian, who are fisting one another’s shirts in their hands, ready to throw punches, look at her and start shouting at the same time.
“He’s talking shit about Emilia—”
“Did you hear what he just said Ads? Un-fucking-believable! I’m not about to let that shit slide—I am trying to protect our pack—”
“You are the one who keeps making irresponsible choices—”
“Stop!” Ads shouts. “The two of you have been at each other’s throats for three days straight. I know bickering is like your fucking love language or some shit, but Jesus. What gives?”
Chris stays quiet. He looks at Adrian.
“Ask him. Not my place to say,” he says, low and quiet. Adrian swallows.
“It’s about my Omega.”
Ads’ eyes widen. “Is this—holy shit. Is she pregnant? Is that why you are so on edge right now?”
“Holy shit!” Adrian says. “No! No fucking way!”
“I mean, there is a fucking way,” Chris says mildly. “You see, Adrian, when an Alpha and an Omega love each other very much—”
“Oh, fuck you,” Adrian says, grumpy. “We’ve only—one time. And it was literally right before we left.” He looks at Ads. “She’s due for her heat in a couple days.”
“Oh!” Ads says, eyes wide. “Do you need to go home? I can book you a flight.” She reaches for her phone immediately, already pulling up the airline website. Adrian shakes his head.
“No. I asked her before we even left if she wanted me to stay,” Adrian says. “She told me to go. That she would call if she needed me. I’m sorry if I’m being annoying and checking my phone too much but—I just—”
“Whoa, okay, hold on,” Chris says. “Slow down, man. Take a deep breath.”
“It’s okay, Adrian,” Ads says, her voice soft. “It’s totally normal for you to be experiencing some symptoms too. Aggression, irritation, insomnia. Especially for mated pairs. I know you aren’t mated yet, technically, but—”
“It doesn’t feel normal,” Adrian says, his voice strained. “Even though she’s a hundred miles away, I’m all hot and itchy and anxious and nervous, and I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing what if she needs me—”
“It is normal, Adrian,” Chris says. “It’s just biology.”
“I hate it!” Adrian cries. “I hate it. I don’t like not being in control of my body. And it makes me feel like—like my connection to her is nothing but that. Nothing but fucking hormones. And she can—she can get that from anyone. I’m far away from her and if she needs me and I’m not there some other Alpha might—might take her away from me butshe’smine—-”
“Adrian,” Chris says sharply, and Adrian inhales, but it feels shallow, like he can’t get enough air in his lungs. “Listen to yourself.”
“Breathe, Adrian,” Ads says. “Come on. Sit down and just breathe.”
She puts her hands on his shoulders, a gentle, grounding pressure pushing down until he lets himself collapse onto the bed. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, face in his hands, and does what she says. He takes a few shaky breaths. In and out, slow and steady.
“Do you remember how you felt the first day after your rut, when we went out to that bar and that random Omega touched your shoulder?” Chris asks him after a minute, and Adrian’s face screws up in disgust.
“Chris—what?” Ads says.
“Did you want to fuck her?” Chris demands, crossing his arms.
“What?” Adrian says, affronted, his confusion pulling him out of his panic entirely. His face screws up with disgust.
“She was in preheat,” Chris reminds him. “That girl. She touched your shoulder and you were so disgusted by it that we got into a fistfight in the parking lot and you spent an hour scrubbing the scent of her off you in the shower.”
“I remember,” Adrian says. “Why the fuck—”
“Did you want to fuck her?” Chris repeats.
“No,” Adrian says. “Obviously not! I could not give less of a fuck about that random girl—”
“Exactly,” Chris says. “Because she was not your Omega. You wanted your Omega.”
Ads realizes with a flash of clarity the point that Chris is trying to drive home.
“If being an Alpha and an Omega was just about hormones,” she summarizes. “Adrian would have wanted her. The way he wants—”
“I would never,” Adrian says hoarsely. “I only want—”
“And it’s not because she’s an Omega,” Ads says. “You want her because she’s your Omega. You want her because of who she is and the connection you share.”
“It’s the same for her, Adrian,” Chris says after a moment. “She’s not going to just go—running off to the nearest Alpha if you aren’t there. Because they aren’t you. And you are her Alpha.”
Adrian falls silent and takes a deep, settling breath. “I just want to be good for her.”
Chris winces, apparently realizing he hit a particularly deep nerve a few minutes earlier.
“You are,” he says. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. That you aren’t ready. I was just being a dick. But listen—you don’t have to do this alone, Adrian. Hell, I was there to help you through your rut. Giving you pointers about how to help her through her heat is a walk in the park compared to that.”
“I can help, too,” Ads offers. “I helped her put together that care package for you, when you were in rut. We can do the same for her, on the way home. A few things you’ve scented, some drinks to stay hydrated, some of her favorite snacks, things she’ll want to add to her nest.”
“That’s a good idea,” Chris agrees. “But really, Adrian, at the end of the day—she’s just going to want you. Okay? So be a little more patient, a little more careful, and let’s make sure you get home to her in one piece. I will try to be more patient too. Can we do that?”
Adrian looks at them gratefully. He wishes he were home with you right now, but—he’s got a job to do first. And he needs to stop fighting with his friends in order to do it.
tbh i think you and adrian just start dating. neither of you ask each other out. just start doing more stuff together and that leads to sleepovers which leads to fucking which leads to one of you never leaving after the fact.
eeEEEE YES!! ive always thought about it like that too!!! like you kiss for the first time during a sleepover or when he drives you home after a long day of hanging out and adrian thinks woah! i didn't know we could do this! and then things just start escalating quicker and quicker until you're fucking in his car, sharing a bed, adrian starts wearing your clothes and using your shower, all of a sudden hes stuck to you like a piece of gum at all times and it really feels like the most natural thing in the world <3
synopsis: The team helps Adrian, Chris, and Ads prepare for the upcoming mission, and you and Adrian have an important conversation about what will happen when he gets back.
tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, omegaverse dynamics, alpha!Adrian, omega!reader, fluff, talk about heats/ruts/marking, SMUT (piv sex, reader is on birth control), Adrian is clingy and sappy
word count: 6.7k
notes: Thank you as always to @embeanwrites and @snowyathena for the beta read!! Lmao remember when part 7 was going to be the last part???? and now I've got it planned out to part 10 at LEAST??? why do I do this to myself
Masterlist | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven
As the team prepares to send Chris, Adrian, and Ads off for their week-long mission, everyone is on edge. Even Adrian, who is notoriously bad at picking up on other people’s feelings, can see it plain as day. They haven’t had a mission this personal in a long time. Maybe ever.
Fleury and Bordeaux have been on the phone all afternoon, booking motels and rental cars, sparing no expense. Adrian and Judomaster pack up all the weapons, ammo, and other supplies they might need out in the field. It’s been a while since the field kits have been restocked.
Emilia and Chris hole up the conference room so she can debrief him in-depth on each of the targets they’re trying to track down right now. Economos tries to help, but he can barely bring himself to even say the names of his prior colleagues, falling back on his typical coping strategy of avoidance. If he doesn’t talk about it, doesn’t process it, then it can’t hurt him. He sticks his head in his laptop screen and does what he needs to do, and that’s that.
Adrian and Ads should probably be in there with them, but they’re busy doing their own preparations. They want to get moving as soon as possible, before the lead goes cold, so they’re rushing to pack their bags and Chris’s. Chris will pass on the information while they travel.
When they’re finished, they start bringing everything to the van, which Chris and Emilia have started prepping. It would be faster if they could fly, but with all the fucking weapons they have to take, they would never make it through any kind of security clearance.
Three duffle bags are Adrian’s. One for clothes and toiletries. Two for his weapons and the Vigilante suit. He’s lugging them outside when he catches a glimpse of something that stops him in his tracks.
Chris and Harcourt, standing at the back of the van taking a rare, soft moment to themselves, Chris pressing a soft kiss to his mate’s lips. It’s fucking weird, is the first thing he thinks, watching them be all lovey and gross. He kinda understands how everyone else might feel when he’s being soft with you.
But then Adrian remembers that the bonded pair in front of him, his pack Alphas, are about to be separated for a week, and he feels a pang in his chest, because he understands in a way that he never has before. If they feel for each other even a fraction of what Adrian feels for you—
Adrian swallows roughly and turns away, giving them privacy. Suddenly, all he wants, more than anything, is you.
He’s been apart from you before, but not like this. Not since the day you first kissed him. In the last seven weeks, he’s seen you every day. Spent every possible waking hour at your side.
The idea of leaving you behind, even for just seven days, is eating him up inside.
After a quick pit stop at your desk for your picnic blanket, he finds you in the infirmary with Adebayo, where you’d been packing medical kits for them. When he walks in, you’re doing a refresh of some important first-aid practices.
Ads doesn’t need it. But you do. You can’t go with Adrian, but you can do this. Make sure the med kits are fully stocked, make sure the supplies aren’t expired, make sure Ads remembers how to set a broken bone.
“One last thing—dislocations,” you’re saying, as he pushes open the door. “Both Adrian and Chris have dislocated their shoulders more than once, which means it’s even more likely for them to accidentally do it again, and neither of them are exactly careful about it—”
Adrian winces. That’s true, he has to admit. He’s come crawling back to you with his arm dangling loose more than once, and every time, you look at him with this exasperated frown before correcting the problem with your gentle hands. He knows how to fix it himself, and so does Chris, but it hurts a hell of a lot less when you do it.
“They know what they’re doing for the most part, but if they need help, you want to hold the arm here, and brace them like this—have another person help you, if you can—oh, and don’t forget to—”
Ads is half listening to you, half watching you with concerned eyes, because you’re rambling almost as much as he does, which can’t be a good sign. You’re normally more put together than this, giving clear, concise instructions, but today, it’s like you can’t get the words out fast enough, and everything is coming out in a jumbled, frazzled order.
It’s strange, seeing you like this. He wonders why you’re so stressed. Yes, your relationship with him has changed, now, but—you know him. You know he’s capable. This level of worry is something else entirely.
“I think she’s got it, babe,” Adrian interrupts, with a gentle hand on your back, and you look up at him, your brow furrowed with concentration and worry.
“I know she does,” you say. You look at Ads. “I know you do. I just—”
“It’s okay, girl,” Ads says, her voice soft. “I get it. I’ll take care of him for you. I promise.”
Your lower lip wobbles, just a bit, and you throw your arms around her. “Thank you.”
She squeezes you tight, and exchanges a confused look with Adrian, who keeps a steady hand on your shoulder. He waits for the tension to drain from your body, the way it always does when he touches you, but it never does.
“Come on,” he says softly. “Let’s take a break, baby.”
Adrian leads you out to the courtyard, to the spot beneath the tree. He has started thinking of it as your spot, a shared little bubble away from the chaos of the rest of the office. When he plops down onto the blanket, he yanks you down with him, into his lap, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into him. You yelp as you topple on top of him.
“You didn’t even try to fight me,” he scolds playfully.
You roll your eyes. “I didn’t realize I had to be on guard around you. Next time you try to sweep me off my feet I’ll punch you in the face. I’ll ask Emilia to work on that with me in our next session.”
“The training with her is going good?” he checks. “You’re not hurting anymore?” Adrian’s hand brushes beneath your shirt, over the scarred skin of your healed-over bullet wounds. “I don’t want you to push too hard—I mean, obviously I want you to be able to protect yourself—”
“Emilia wouldn’t have let me even start if she didn’t think I was ready,” you remind him.
“I know. You’re super badass and capable, and also really cool and I love you,” Adrian says, and when you finally smile, he kisses it right off your face.
“You guys are so gross.”
Chris’s voice rings across the courtyard, and your lips break apart. Adrian glares at his best friend, and your bright laughter echoes in the air.
“Shut up, Chris,” Adebayo scolds in the distance. “Let them live!”
After work, you head home for the night with Adrian. You’re still buzzing with some kind of nervous energy, though it’s not as bad as it was earlier. Having something to do seems to be helping, so he steps back and just lets you take control. There’s also a tiny, selfish part of him that just wants to make sure that you touch everything that goes in his suitcase, so that everything he wears during the week that he’s gone will smell like you.
You haven’t stayed the night. It’s a bridge that both of you have been weirdly afraid to cross. You’ve done all kinds of other couple-y things. You went on cute dates to the zoo and the aquarium, you played video games, you had movie nights. You did all the same things you used to do when you were just friends, but now there’s—more. Now Adrian gets to hold you, to kiss you, to tell you the things he was never allowed to say before. But never pushes any further than that, because he’s afraid, not of you, but of himself.
After the heated moment you’d shared in the Checkmate office, Adrian had pulled back significantly. It’s hard to control himself around you. He just wants you, so fucking much, all the time, and—you’d agreed to take things slow, so that’s what he’s been trying to do. Because every time he kisses you, or sucks a dark bruise into the skin of your neck, he has to desperately resist what his body tells him it needs. To make that mark permanent. To knot you, to claim you, to make you his, forever. He doesn’t want to push you into something you don’t want, something you’re not ready for.
It’s one thing to cuddle with you for a few hours on the couch. Even in bed, above the covers. It’s another to lie there with you for an entire night. But as the evening grows later, and you’re still there, at the safe house with him, he smiles. Because it doesn’t look like you’re going anywhere tonight. He doesn’t want you to go anywhere tonight.
If he’s going to be gone for an entire week, he wants as much time with you now as he can get. And he thinks that you do, too. That it might help with…whatever the hell is going on inside your brain right now.
As you zip up the suitcase on top of the bed, he comes to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, and kisses the underside of your jaw.
“Will you stay?” he asks, his voice low. “Just to sleep?”
“I was planning on it,” you say, and he smiles, rubbing his cheek against yours like a cat. You giggle, and he feels a little relieved, that you’re at least calm enough, happy enough, to still laugh like that. “That tickles. You need to shave again.”
“Ugh. Don’t wanna,” he whines, just to hear the sound again, and his heart lifts when he gets what he wants—he hears the light sound of your laugh, feels the rumble of it against his chest.
Adrian doesn’t mind shaving anymore, really. He’s used to it, now. But now, when he complains, you always offer to do it for him, and he has an excuse to stare at you for ten minutes uninterrupted.
“I’ll do it,” you say softly, and he grins, having gotten exactly what he wanted. “Just let me get changed, okay?”
Five minutes later, he swallows roughly when he sees you sitting on the bathroom counter in nothing but a short pair of sleep shorts and one of his shirts. He tries desperately to shove down his immediate arousal, even though he knows you can smell it, just like he can smell yours.
As you work in silence, sharp razorblade scraping across his cheeks, Adrian can still see the tension in the way you’re holding yourself. You’re worried. When you take a moment to rinse off the blade, he speaks.
“I’m gonna be okay, Omega,” he whispers, hands coming to grasp your hips. His thumbs rub soothing circles into your bare skin, where your shirt, his shirt, rides up.
“I know you’re going to be okay,” you say, talking while you work, finishing up the lower part of his neck. “I’m sorry if I’m being a lot. That’s not…that’s not what I’m thinking about right now.”
You finish what you’re doing and bring the damp washcloth to his face to clean him off. Once he’s clean, he grabs your wrist, turning his head to the side just slightly and pressing a kiss to the bracelet he’d made for you out of the scraps of his old Vigilante suit. You smile softly at him.
“What’s going on?” he asks softly, because you’re being quiet. Too quiet. You bite your lip and hesitate, and he hates it. “You can tell me, baby. You can tell me anything. You know that. I’m sorry we argued earlier, I don’t want you to think that I think you’re incapable or anything less than fucking badass, because you are badass, and great at your job, and I love you—”
“That’s not it,” you laugh. “But thank you. You are also a badass, baby.”
“What is it, then?”
“The week you get back,” you say carefully, “I’m due for my heat.”
You’re trying hard to be casual about it, but—it’s anything but. You’re terribly nervous, because you know that Adrian is going to be too.
Adrian stares at you, mouth agape. You look at him pointedly.
“Oh,” he says, swallowing nervously, a little dumbstruck. “Oh.”
Everything that’s been happening with you today suddenly makes a whole lot more sense. The way you’ve been jumpy and anxious. It’s not just you being worried about Adrian going on a mission. It’s you, on the verge of preheat, if you aren’t in preheat already, being worried about your Alpha.
“So,” you say, clearing your throat. “Will you…help me through it?”
“Of course I will,” he says in a rush, his arms wrapping around you. “If that’s what you want. I just—I don’t want you to feel obligated or forced, just because we’ve been, you know, kissing and other stuff and—if you would feel more comfortable using…toys, I mean, just—I know we’ve talked about this already, that we want each other like this, and that you’re mine and I’m yours, but I want to make sure this isn’t just, like, hormones, you know—”
You cut him off with a kiss, and he melts into it instantly.
“I always want you,” you say softly. “The hormones just make it—more.”
“Oh,” he says dumbly, trying to ignore the arousal stirring deep in his gut just at your admission.
“And if you want,” you say nervously, tugging at the material of his shirt, “Since—like you just said. That you’re mine, and I’m yours. I was thinking. That I want you to mark me, Alpha.”
“I want that,” Adrian says hoarsely. He remembers kneeling in front of you, his face buried in your core, remembers just how strong the urge was to mark you, to make you his. He wanted it so bad, in that moment. He’s wanted it every day since. “I’ve never wanted anything more. But I want—I want you to mark me too. I want us to do it together. So—can we wait? Until my next rut? If your heat is in two weeks—then by the time you’re due for your next one, we should be—”
“All synced up,” you finish with a smile. “Yeah. Yeah, we can wait.”
“Should I even be going on this mission?” he checks worriedly. “If your heat comes early—”
“If my heat comes early, I will deal for a couple days until you get back.”
“No,” Adrian says firmly. He remembers how he felt during his rut, hot and writhing and miserable and alone. You will never feel like he did during that week of agony, not on his watch. “If your heat comes early, you will call me, and I will come home early and take care of you. Promise me.”
“Adrian—”
“Promise me,” he repeats, heart pounding. He holds your gaze.
“I promise,” you say. Your voice is soft. “I will call you.”
“I’m gonna call you every fucking day anyway,” Adrian says, smiling. “So much that you’re gonna be fucking sick of me.”
“I’d never get sick of you. Now, Chris, on the other hand—”
“Hey!”
“I’m just telling it like it is, baby.”
Adrian laughs as you hop off the counter and drag him toward the bedroom. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”
“I am on your side! I don’t get sick of you. I want you around all the time. Always.”
You prove your point by flopping onto the bed and dragging him on top of you. He lands carefully, bracing his arms on either side of you so he doesn’t crush you with his weight.
“I think even you would get sick of me eventually,” Adrian says. He presses a quick, teasing kiss to your lips before going to shut off the lights. You worm your way beneath the covers, holding them up for him to slide in with you when he’s finished.
“You’re wrong,” you say, more of a whisper now that it’s dark in the room. Adrian pulls the blankets tighter over you both and lies down facing you, eyes wide open in the dark, waiting for them to adjust so he can see you a little more clearly. When they do, you’re smiling at him. “You know, I’ve been thinking.”
“Stop thinking,” Adrian advises. “And just let me enjoy my first night sleeping next to you.”
“Well, if you would let me finish!” you laugh. “It’s been long enough. We should—” You cut yourself off, hesitating.
“We should what?” Adrian asks.
“I’m just thinking,” you say. “That it would be easier, if you came home, and you knew…where you were going home to.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, if you want, while you’re gone,” you say, “I could take all your stuff that’s here in the safe house, and move it into my apartment. This was always supposed to be a temporary arrangement.”
Adrian’s heart hammers in his throat. “Really?”
“Really. And then when you come home, you can spend every night sleeping next to me.”
He imagines it. Coming home. Knowing that home means you. Means a place that you both share, where every blanket and pillow and coffee cup is touched with a hint of your scent and his. A place where he gets to go to sleep beside you every night and wake up beside you every morning for the rest of his life.
“Yes,” Adrian says, nodding furiously, smiling like an idiot. “Yes, let’s—let’s do that. Please.”
He kisses you, again, and smiles into it, thinking about how he’ll get to do this all the time.
He just needs to get through this fucking mission, and he gets to come home. To you.
It’s happening again.
Adrian is too far away, this time. He watches the red soaking through your uniform, your knees hitting the ground. He smells your scent in the air, tinged with the metallic hint of blood. Your eyes meet his across the field, terrified and pained.
He’s living his worst nightmare all over again, and he can’t stop it.
He’s screaming, and running, and he tumbles to the ground beside you, he yanks off his mask. You’re going to be okay, you have to be okay. You will be. He knows you will be.
He’s had this dream, he’s relived the memory a dozen times since the day it happened, but this time, when he turns you over, when he touches your face—it’s cold. His own pulse hammers in his neck as he feels for yours. He can’t find it.
“No, no, no,” he says, heart rising into his throat. “What—no, what’s happening please wake up oh god no—”
Adrian bolts awake, breathing like he’s just run a marathon, and it takes him a moment to come back to himself, to realize where he is.
In bed. With you. With you, alive, tucked against him, safe. He can see you breathing, the rise and fall of your chest. He can feel your warmth.
It’s not enough. He reaches out with one trembling hand to touch your neck, careful not to wake you. Only when he presses against your neck and feels your pulse, thrumming strong and steady beneath his fingertips, does all the air rush out of his lungs in a relieved whoosh.
“Holy fuck,” he whispers, and he feels a tear stream down his cheek. He doesn’t even bother wiping it away, just closes his eyes and lets himself slump down against the pillows, trying to calm his own racing heart.
“Adrian?” you mumble, and his eyes fly open again to see your hand fumbling for him in the dark. He instantly feels both terrible for waking you and immensely grateful to hear your voice.
“It’s okay, baby. Go back to sleep,” he says, his voice hoarse, a little frustrated, even. He catches your wandering hand before it can settle against his chest, where you’ll be able to feel how hard his heart is pounding in the aftermath of a nightmare. He doesn’t want you to worry.
It’s the first night he’s sleeping with you in his arms. It should be peaceful. It’s everything he’s wanted for months. Instead, here he is, staring at you through the dark like you’re going to disappear any moment, haunted by the memory of you soaked in your own blood.
Your eyes blink open sleepily, and you watch him silently for a moment, weighing whether to do what he says and just go back to sleep, or argue with him. He stares back at you.
You don’t argue. You don’t say a word. But you don’t go back to sleep either. You sit up, shift yourself over, and hug him, feeling his arms wrap around you in return, squeezing tight to hide the way he’s shaking.
“You’re okay,” you say quietly. “It was just a dream. You’re okay.”
“Not me,” Adrian says thickly. “You. It was—it was the day you got shot, baby, all over again. I couldn’t do anything—I saw you hit the ground and there was so much blood and I couldn’t—I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—”
“Stop that,” you shush him. After a quiet moment, you ask, “Do you dream about that day a lot?”
Adrian doesn’t answer. You sit up a little, prop yourself up on his chest, and brush sweaty curls off his forehead.
“Okay,” you say. “We don’t have to talk about it now.” You start to roll off of him, and he clings to you in a panic.
“No—stay—”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
You roll onto your back, guiding Adrian to curl around you, pulling his head down to rest on your chest.
“Go back to sleep, baby,” you say, running your fingers through his hair, and he wraps his arms around you like a teddy bear.
He tells himself he will, after you fall back asleep. Once he feels your breathing even out. But he stays awake the rest of the night, anxious, just listening to the steady thump of your heart echoing against his ear.
Adrian had promised you yesterday that he would back off after this mission. Get this protective anxiety out of his system. As he sits there, in the dark, he thinks that maybe that promise won’t be so easy for him to keep.
Adrian wakes up the next morning with you still draped over him, a comforting, calming weight. He’d drifted off eventually, into a half-sleep, and now he blinks awake, the world a little blurry without his glasses as he looks down at you, using his chest as a pillow, hugging him like a stuffed animal. He’s warm and soft and comfortable and he does not want to get out of bed and face the world.
He glances at the clock on the nightstand. 6 a.m. His chest tightens.
He leaves in six hours.
When he looks back down at you, you’re looking right at him, and he forces a smile, pulling you up to his mouth for a messy morning kiss.
“Your hair is a fucking disaster,” you observe, amused, lifting a hand up to tug at the little curly tufts that are sticking up every which way. “I didn’t realize you had such bad bed head.”
“I regret to inform you, there are a lot of things about me that are a fucking disaster,” Adrian jokes, hands landing on your waist, thumbs rubbing gentle circles. “You did, unfortunately, sign up for this shit.”
“Well, how about you go shower and fix that while I make some breakfast?” you suggest.
Adrian’s grip tightens on your waist. He doesn’t want that.
The idea of spending even twenty minutes apart from you today, when the clock is winding down, when he is going to have to leave for a week, makes him feel anxiously possessive in a way that he hasn’t felt since—since he watched you walk away from him, that night at Chris’s trailer after the other Alpha ordered you to go home, when he was deep in his rut, when he needed you and couldn’t have you. It’s an irrational kind of panic, but he feels right now like if he lets you go, he’ll never see you again.
He can’t explain all that to you without sounding insane. Like some possessive, overbearing asshole. So he just clears his throat, and forces a smile, and says, “Come with me?”
You undress together, leaving your clothes on the edge of the bed, and you follow him into the bathroom wordlessly.
In the shower, he determinedly ignores the fact that this is the first time he’s seen you naked as you stand together beneath the stream of warm water, his arms wrapped around you from behind. He recalls the days you spent wrapped around him the same way while he worked on the Vigilante suit, the little kisses you would pepper on his neck, and he does the same now. You tilt your head for him, to give him better access, and he inhales deeply, hugging you tighter.
“Are you okay, baby?” you ask softly. “Still thinking about that nightmare?”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Just. Gonna miss you.”
“I’m gonna miss you too. You’re lucky, you have a big fancy mission to distract you. I’ll stay as busy as I can with work, but I’ll probably have to take things a little easier this week, once I’m in preheat.”
“You’re absolutely sure that it’s okay for me to go?” he checks, even though he’s already asked you a dozen times. He doesn’t feel good about leaving you so close to your heat. “I can ask Judomaster to go instead—”
That he’s even offering tells you how anxious he is. Adrian loves going on missions, and he loves going on missions with Chris, and he complains for days when Judomaster gets to work with his best friend instead of him.
“I know myself. I know my body,” you tell him. “If I felt like I needed you to stay, I promise you, I would tell you. You’re only gonna be gone for a week. I’m not due for ten days.”
It still seems like cutting things too close for comfort, in Adrian’s eyes.
“I just don’t want you to suffer,” he says, quiet and concerned. When you turn around to meet his gaze, you know he’s thinking about his own rut. The sweaty, sleepless nights, the cramps, the agony.
“It’s not so bad. Remember, baby, you just had your first rut,” you say. “They should get easier, now. I won’t be in as much pain as you were.”
“No,” he says firmly. “Because I’m going to be there, to help you.”
“I also have a decade and a half of experience under my belt,” you point out. “I know what works for me. How to cope with it. Four times a year, like clockwork.” You smile wryly. “Except that one time you threw me off schedule.”
“You’ve been with other Alphas before,” Adrian says. He says it like a question, but it isn’t, not really. He knows you have.
“You really want to talk about that right now?” you ask with a raised eyebrow.
“No,” Adrian grumbles as he turns off the shower, both of you clean and refreshed for the morning.
“There haven’t been that many, anyway,” you say, wrapping yourself in a towel and then brushing a hand through his wet hair. He hums at your gentle touch. “It’s hard to know that they won’t…take advantage. It was only ever people I trusted. And only when it was a particularly bad cycle.”
“Take advantage?”
“Mark me,” you explain. “When I didn’t want them to.”
Unexpected, possessive anger surges in Adrian’s chest when he remembers that there are shitty Alphas in the world who won’t take no for an answer. He looks at your neck and imagines seeing the shiny, silvery mark of someone else’s bite marring the smooth skin, and he growls.
“That’s so fucked up,” he says, his voice low and fierce. “That anyone would—you’re mine—”
“And you’re mine,” you say simply. “And soon, everyone—even strangers on the street—will know that.” Adrian shivers when you lean forward and press a gentle kiss to the skin at the juncture of his neck, right where you’ll sink your teeth in when the time is right.
He mirrors you, rubbing his cheek against yours, mingling his scent with yours on your skin. It’s wishful thinking that it will linger for the whole ten days that he’s gone. But he can mark his territory for now, he thinks, as he kisses your neck, sucking a bruise into the skin there. It’s not a bite mark, but it’s something. Something that will linger for a few days, at least. You laugh.
“You are ridiculous,” you say, and he smiles.
“Can’t let you forget about me while I’m gone,” he tries to tease, but it comes out smaller than usual.
“I could never,” you whisper. If you said it any louder, your voice would wobble.
The air in the bathroom is thick with steam from the hot water of the shower. But it’s thick with the scent of arousal, too.
“I want you,” you say, stepping forward, trailing your palms up Adrian’s bare, damp chest.
“You know I want you,” Adrian says nervously, reaching up to hold your hands there, firm, against his pecs. He watches a drop of water drip down from your hair, trailing down between your breasts, disappearing beneath the towel wrapped around your body. “I want you so much. I always want you.”
“I want you now,” you say.
“Are you sure?” Adrian can feel his heart pounding against his chest. With your hand sitting there, right above it, you can probably feel it too.
“I’m sure.”
Thank god, he thinks, as he guides your wrists up and around his neck and stoops low to pick you up. He carries you like you’re something special, breakable, precious. Every step is careful with you cradled in his arms. When he sets you down on the mattress, and you let the towel fall away, he can forget, for a minute, about everything else, because all that matters is this moment with you.
He kisses you, and he’s just too goddamn happy to be anything but sloppy and enthusiastic. You giggle as his kisses trail to your cheeks, your forehead, your chin, and it makes him feel even lighter, the way you laugh.
“Are you sure?” you check, and Adrian looks at you with bewilderment.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“I just know you’ve never—now that you’re an Alpha. It can be a lot. We can wait, if you want.”
“I’m done waiting,” he says, firm and determined. “I’ve been waiting for years.”
He starts kissing your face again, down your neck, until his tongue is circling one nipple, and you groan. But just as his hand drifts down toward your core, trailing over the soft skin of your belly, he has a fleeting thought and pauses.
“Wait—um,” he says awkwardly. “I don’t have, like. Condoms? And I know we have not talked at all about—pups. But I’m assuming that even if—even if we did. Now is not a good time—”
You giggle. “You really didn’t pay attention to Alpha sex ed in school, did you?”
Adrian flushes a little. “No.”
“Even if you did have condoms,” you explain carefully, “they would probably break. From your knot.”
“Oh,” Adrian says, growing even redder. “So—what—Omegas are like, really fertile, aren’t you? What do we—”
“I’m on birth control. I’ve got an implant.” You bite your lip. “And you’re right. We haven’t talked about it. But if you wanted—one day. We could.”
You’re the one lying beneath him, but somehow, he feels like he’s the more vulnerable one right now. His heart feels like it’s beating outside his chest, and your words make him feel like you’ve reached out and touched it, setting him alight like a live wire.
“You would want that?” he asks hoarsely. “With me?”
“I want everything with you,” you say, eyes shining. “Alpha.”
Adrian surges forward and captures your lips with his, his broad frame pushing you down deeper into the mattress, and you gasp into a groan when his hips come flush with yours and you can feel the evidence of his desire pressing heavy on your thigh. Your legs fall open to welcome him closer, and you reach low, taking his cock in your hand.
His eyes flutter shut and his head falls forward to your chest, your other hand coming up to run through his hair and hold him in place as he goes back to pressing mindless kisses to the sensitive bare skin of your breasts. You stroke him, squeezing gently, and he thinks, suddenly, back to his rut. When he was thrusting against a pillow, or into his own hand, imagining, wishing it was you instead.
He doesn’t have to imagine anymore. Now the real thing is right here in front of him and he’s so swept up in you he’s not sure he’ll ever come back.
Your touch is soft and sleepy and warm, and it’s almost enough to make him forget everything else for a while—how much he needs you, how long he’s waited for this moment, how much he’ll miss you while he’s gone. He’ll think about this every day, your warm hand wrapped around his cock, pumping, lips brushing against his ear as you whisper praises.
When Adrian touches you, you’re already slick and eager, ready for him, but he pushes two testing fingers through your folds anyway, dipping inside you where you’re wet and warm, listening to the gasps of pleasure you make. That alone is almost enough to make him cum.
“Just—” you gasp. “Fuck, Adrian. Skip the fucking foreplay. I’ve been waiting for this for weeks.”
“I don’t want to hurt you—”
“You’re not going to hurt me,” you insist, hitching your legs around his waist, letting his cock drag through your wetness, whimpering when the head bumps at your clit. “Please, Alpha—”
“Fuck,” Adrian says, because he can’t stand to hear you beg like that. He could never say no to you. He caves instantly, notching himself at your entrance and pushing in, trying to keep his breathing steady as he’s swallowed by your warmth.
You hiss out a breath at the stretch of him, spreading your legs wider. A pleased hum reverberates through your chest when he gives a testing, shallow thrust, and it hits you in all the right places.
“So good, baby,” you whisper. “You make me feel so good.”
Even as you say it, you’re touching him in return in ways that he’s only ever dreamed about before, your nails digging into his shoulders, heels pushing into his back, pulling him in closer, deeper. He wants more. He wants you to touch him everywhere, to leave traces of yourself on every single part of his body. Until you’re a permanent part of him, until he’s a permanent part of you, until leaving you behind for a mission doesn’t feel like leaving himself behind.
Adrian’s mouth trails over you in return—your neck, your chest, your arms, your face. He wants to leave his scent behind. He wants you to smell like him even when he’s not around this week. He wants any Alpha that sees you on the street to know that you’re taken, to know that you’re his.
It’s that thought that spurs his movement, quick, deep thrusts that makes you whine. You shift your hips to meet his, and then there’s nothing but the sound of skin on skin, of heavy mingled breaths, as Adrian ruts into you.
As your head falls back, his eyes latch on to your neck, and he feels it. The way his teeth are itching to bite into the juncture of your neck. He wants it so bad, his instinct is telling him to just do it, but—now is not the time. He grits his teeth, looks away, down at his own arm, which he’s using to prop himself up over you as he plunges into you, feeling the knot growing at the base of his cock.
“Oh,” you gasp, as you feel it too, starting to catch at your entrance as he moves. “Want—want your knot, please, fuck, want it so bad, Adrian, fuck.”
“Whatever you want,” he chokes, watching you take him with fascination. “All of me, you have—all of me.”
A moment later, he feels you flutter around him, and your mouth falls open, drawing his eyes again to your neck, where he can see the furiously beating pulse. The urge to mark you roars inside him.
He thinks for a split second about biting into the skin of his own hand instead, just to satisfy the urge, until his eyes fall on the crumpled ball of your underwear lying on the bed next to him.
He shoves it in his mouth with a growl and bites down on the fabric as his knot finally catches. It’s nothing like biting down into your skin, but the taste of you still coats his tongue, and it sends him over the edge himself as he comes with a muffled groan.
For a moment afterward, you’re both quiet. He lets more of his weight rest on top of you, lets himself hold you tight. He closes his eyes and tries to commit the feeling to memory. He wants this to be the thing that lasts, the thing he dreams about while he’s gone. Not the nightmares of your cold body, drenched in blood. But the good dreams, holding you like this, alive and happy and so in love he can’t take it.
“You okay, baby?” you ask him after a minute. He feels your lips on his cheek, and he smiles around your underwear. You furrow your brow as you reach up and pluck them out of his mouth.
“Why are you eating my underwear, you fucking weirdo?”
“Because I really wanted to bite you,” Adrian says. “And this was a good alternative.”
“I wouldn’t have minded if you did,” you whisper, fishing the fabric in your hand.
He grins and kisses you as he steals them back out of your hand. “I’m keeping them.”
“Wha–why—”
“Because they smell like you and they taste like you—”
“That is so fucking weird. If I wasn’t in love with you that would be so creepy.”
“But you are in love with me,” he says smugly. “And I don’t care if it’s creepy. I’m keeping them.”
“If you take my panties on this mission and Chris sees them, I will kill you. No matter how in love with you I am.”
Adrian sobers a bit at the reminder that he’s leaving. He glances at the clock on the nightstand.
“You’ll call me?” he asks. You don’t even get annoyed with him, even though he’s asked the question half a dozen times in the last two days.
“Every day.”
“And if your heat comes early—”
“I’ll call you,” you say softly. You frown, brushing his hair out of his face with both hands, trailing your palms down the front of his chest, letting yourself touch him because you know you’ll be starved of it for a while after this. “I’m going to be okay, Adrian. You are the one going out to do dangerous shit.”
“I do dangerous shit all the time,” Adrian says lightly. “I’m pretty good at it.”
“I know you are.”
“A week is a long time,” he whispers, like if he says it too loud, it will grow even longer.
“We have survived worse things than a week apart,” you say. “But no matter how long you’re gone, you’re stuck with me. I’m not letting you go that easy.”
“Literally,” Adrian jokes, shifting his hips, almost laughing at the way you move helplessly with him, knotted together.
Summary: Will Adrian and Chris be able to mend the rift in their friendship? The future may already have the answer, but you and Adrian refuse to let fate take eveything you love without a fight.
AN: The girls are fighting! I hate and love it. I had to write an impromptu romance scene because Adrian and reader really needed the comfort after the first half. I hope youre enjoying the series! All other parts and more are on my master list! part 12
Xo, M. 💙🧜♂️
As Adrian's pummeling his friends face with his fists, blood spurts from Chris's nose and runs down his chin.
“Alright, enough!” Chris bellows, teeth stained red. He tries to push him off of him but Adrian manages to wrap his thighs around his friend's thick neck and wrenches his arm painfully.
“He's going to break my fucking arm! Get him off of me!” Panic warps the cadence of his deep voice.
You've seen Chris mad and scared … even embarrassed. But this is something different. There's pain in his blue eyes, and not from the arm bar Adrian has him in, or because his airway is collapsing under the pressure of his once loyal friend's thighs. Deep down, Chris really believed that Adrian would always look up to him and protect him, no matter how shitty he was.
You escape Adebayo's grasp and fall to your knees next to Adrian.
“Adrian, stop! Stop… he's here to help us.” Your voice breaks when you manage to pull him off of Chris only because his grip has suddenly gone slack. Adrian's chest is quivering, breath heaving. His red rimmed eyes meet yours for a moment before he pulls you into a crushing hug, pressing his face into your chest, arms holding you like you're going to drift away.
Your gaze flicks over his shoulder, where Adebayo is helping Chris to his feet, trying to smooth his mussed hair over with her fingers.
“I knew he wasn't going to take that well.” She dusts dirt and grass off of him while he pinches his nose to staunch the bleeding.
“Whatever, it's done.” Chris squeezes his brows together for a moment. “I’d have done the same… were the roles reversed.” He pushes his hair back, ruffling it into a chaotic mess again.
She smacks his shoulder with the back of her hand. “Adrian is practically your brother.”
“Yeah, practically… but he isn't." Chris frowns.
You turn back towards Adrian, your cheek brushes his soft curls.
Adrian's whisper in your ear is low, barely louder than a breath. Hot tears spill down his cheek and onto your neck. “I don't want to, but if I have to kill him to save you, I will.”
You shake your head. “No one is going to die.”
“I hate to break it to you, but you really are dead.” Judo Master says quietly. “No offense.”
“Were you there? What happened?” You sit back on the springy grass, feeling the cold presence of your marble headstone at your back. When Adrian pulls out of your arms to glare at Chris, he leans heavily against you, and your hand trails up his back to smooth the back of his hair.
“No… the only people who know what happened are those two.” Rip nods to Chris and Adrian.
There's a moment of tense silence, it hangs thick in the air until Adebayo clears her throat.
“Well... this is awkward.” Her wide eyes dart around while she rocks on her heels.
“So, what do we do next?” Adrian stands and straightens his glasses. He holds his hands out and helps you up.
“Get Emilia. Duh.” Chris snaps.
“You’d have to kidnap her.” Rip says. “She’s loyal to Flag. In fact, you'd have to go through, well, you, to get to her.”
“I can take him.” Chris puffs his chest out. “I'll just kill him.” Chris tosses a hopeful glance at Adrian. “We did that before, didn't we Adrian?”
“Actually, you killed him, I just helped dispose of the body.” He frowns at Chris. “I’m perfectly fine with killing you though. In fact I kinda wish I was doing that right now…”
“Geeze dude.” Chris's eyes widen. “I'm sorry, okay, I told you future me is a total chode, and not in a good way at all.” He glances at you then back at Adrian. “Give me a chance to prove it to you... im not like him.”
“You are him, what are you even sayi-”
Adebayo interrupts Adrian's rant. “Chris, if we kill future you, what…” Adebayo pauses, onyx eyes fixed on yours for a moment. “What will happen to you… after? Will you just disappear after your expiration date passes?”
“Fuck. Maybe? But who the hell knows.”
“I want to find future me.” Adrian says quietly. “He probably still has some morals.”
“Adrian, you're practically a serial killer...”
“Hey!” Adrian jabs his finger at Chris. “At least I've never killed anyone you loved.”
“Really? You killed my fucking dad, dude!” Chris explodes with renewed anger.
“But he was a goddamned nazi cu-”
“Stop!” You step between them. “Just… Please stop.” You scrub your face with your hands.
“Can we please… just get some real food and rest? We can come up with a plan tomorrow.” There are reluctant murmurs of agreement as you step off the mound of soft grass… your final resting place.
You scan the chiseled inscription again.
It happened a little over a year from when you stepped into that cursed portal.
“Searching for you in this world, and the next, forever.”
Your heart clenches.
There's only one person who would have done this for you. You have no family, and your friends, well, most of them are right here... and one of them was responsible for killing you. You glance at Adrian, his sweet eyes mournfully drinking you in.
You just can't accept that you're under there… Cold. Dead. Adrian pulls your hand gently, the others are already walking back to the safe house. You pause, and he steps closer. His chest brushes against yours as he looks down at you, warmth radiating out of him.
But you can't drag your eyes from something you missed earlier. There, at the base of the headstone, rests a single rose. It looks freshly cut, the ruffle of blood red petals velvety and bright. Swallowing, you look up into Adrian's searching gaze.
“Im not going to let anything happen to you.” He promises, a shadow of a bruise is blooming on his cheekbone.
“Youre going to be super annoying and clingy aren't you?” You touch the bruise softly and he leans into your hand, letting his face rest in your palm.
“Maybe… probably.” His breath tickles your hand. “Yes.” His loose curls fall over the top of his wire glasses frames when he leans down and kisses you, soft, and deep.
“Let’s go, it's dark, and we don't wanna lose them.” You whisper against his lips.
He pulls away smiling. “Babe, you can't get lost with me here. I know this place like the back of my hand, I've been visiting my grandma here since I was a kid!”
Adrian wraps his hand around yours and you follow the rest of the team down the path. In the background of your consciousness you register Adrian rambling about an owl that just swooped between the trees. You just smile up at him. He's a bright sun spot in the darkness, warming you as you face the unknown. You stand a little taller and your heart beats a little stronger with him next to you.
Adrian squeezes your hand excitedly and points out the owl as it lands on a branch of a tree covered in feathery silver moss, its fluffs its mottled plumage, the perfect camouflage, and disappears completely from sight. You can hear it softly hooting into the night as the two of you continue down the path.
You've escaped death before. A few times. You didn't even have much to live for then. Now you have this mission to save the world, and yourself, from this fate. And you have him.
“So, we need to get into A.R.G.U.S…” Chris says between a mouthful of noodles. Adrian watches in unrestrained disgust. “And get Harcourt out.”
“Have fun with that.” Adrian pushes the food in front of him into the middle of the table. “Tomorrow we are going to find future me.” He glances at you and you shrug. One day of looking wont hurt, besides, if Adrian really works for Lex Luthor he'll have intel that Rip doesn't.
“Come on man, eat. Larry always gets the best take out in town.” Chris pleads, sighing when Adrian looks away, frowning.
“Fine, be that way dude.” Chris says. “Me, Adebayo, and Rip will work on getting in A.R.G.U.S, you do… whatever selfish shit you normally do.”
“Fine.” Adrian crosses his arms.
You lean forward. “Do we have phones or comms? Anything?”
“Yeah, Larry's got a couple burner phones and a sick whip. But we're using it tomorrow.” Chris drums his fingers on the table.
“Whatever, I'll walk home.” He shrugs.
Rip sighs, looking at Adrian. “This isn't like last time, your future self doesn't live in your mothers basement anymore."
“Fuck, I forgot the Stinger’s trashed it and mom moved in with my Aunt.”
Rip nods. “I'm surprised that the place hasn't been demolished yet.” He shrugs. “You live in LexCorp Tower now. With the other metas.”
“Fucking metas.” Adrian rolls his eyes. “How do we get there?”
Judo Masters dark eyes study him for a quiet moment before he shrugs. “Since we will have Larry's vehicle, take a rideshare and stake out the building. That's your best chance at catching up to him.” He pauses. “But you need to disguise yourselves… no one with Flag knows there's been a breach at the old portal, so I have to assume Luthor is also unaware. Someone recognizing either of you will blow up any advantage we have.”
You and Adrian manage to snag the office in the back of the restaurant after Adebayo has a whispered argument with Chris. Washing as best you can in the sink, you finger comb your hair back and study the face looking back at you in the mirror. Its pale, and drawn. You try smiling, and can't even look at yourself for any longer than a split second. Head hanging, hands braced against the counter, you silently wonder what will happen a year from now.
You can't imagine leaving Adrian on his own here. But you did. When you died you left him behind. Your heart aches at how hard that must have been for him. You wonder, if you and Adrian manage to find his future self tomorrow, what kind of condition he'll be in. Considering he's suffered the ultimate betrayal at the hands of his best friend, you can guess it won't be good.
Closing the door quietly behind you, you tip toe across the dirty linoleum in a baggy shirt from the stash of clothes Larry snagged from the laundry mat. Adrian's sitting on a sunken couch, head bowed, studying his hands. His head snaps up when he hears you coming, eyes trailing slowly up your bare legs.
Couch groaning, you sit down next to him. He silently pulls your thigh over his. His fingers trail up and down the length of your thigh while you lean into his warmth and hum contentedly.
“I can't… I won't let anything happen to you.” His vow is quiet, eyes locked in space, probably a million miles and one year away from this moment.
“Let's just worry about right now.” With a gentle touch of your fingertips on his jaw, you angle his face towards yours and meet his lips. If all you have left with him is a year, you're going to make the most of every second.
“I can't… I can't stop thinking about it. If you were scared-” His voice breaks, “Or in pain.”
“Adrian…”
“If you were disappointed in me, because I couldn't save you.” His chest quivers and he buries his face in the crook of your neck. “Please. Please, don't leave.” He pleads. When a pained sob escapes his chest, you turn, and straddling his lap, press your hands to the sides of his face. His glasses are fogged and peppered with tear drops, his cheeks blotchy and pink.
“Hey…” You slide his glasses off, set them aside, and push your fingertips through his hair. He lets his head fall back, throat bobbing as another tear streaks down his face.
“A year, two years, five.. ten.” He takes a shuddering breath. “A lifetime doesn't even come close to what I want with you.”
“You’re greedy.” You smile, blinking back hot stinging tears.
His eyes pop open at this, intense and bottle green. “Can you blame me?” His lip trembles and you capture it with your own.
“No.” You reply softly. A lifetime isn't enough time with him. You'd always wondered what it would feel like to find the person who saw every sharp little piece of you and instead of pushing them away, embraced them. It feels like this, like a thousand blades. Pain. Pain so sweet in its agony you hold onto it all the tighter.
You kiss away a tear clinging to his eyelashes. Then another on his jaw. His eyes widen when you grind on his lap, feeling him grow underneath you.
“Who's the greedy one now?” He offers a shaky smile and snakes his arms around your waist, hands cupping your ass.
You slip the shirt over your head and toss it to the side, while he shifts under you and pulls his boxers down. They slip to his ankles and he kicks them away.
The knowledge that your time together is ticking down, faster than either of you would have ever expected, has you both kissing and clutching at one another feverishly.
“I want you…” You whisper. His breath hitches and his fists himself, sweeping his swollen head against you. You're ready for him when he pushes his length into you, his girth quickly popping past slick tight muscles, and bottoming out.
Groaning, his sad eyes search yours as you start to move, breathy moans escaping each time cock drills into your velvety constraints before pressing against your very core.
You ride him slow, and deep, soaking in every every breath, every expression that passes behind his eyes as he watches you, not once pulling his gaze from yours until you've worked yourself into a whimpering, sweat slicked, mess on top of him. His fingers grip your hips tightly, and he bites his lip.
You whimper when his eyes glisten wetly again, and he whispers ‘I love you…”
“I love you -” You choke out between thrusts.
Then he's lifting you, hands hooked under your legs, walking with you wrapped and pulsing tightly around him, until your back presses against the office door. He pounds into you, face pressed into your neck, breath coming in desperate pants and groans. Your pussy is soaked, dripping with each powerful snap of his hips. Your legs tighten around him, right now, he can't be close enough, can't be deep enough...
“Oh, ugh… ah baby.” His voice quivers between curses. “I'm never letting you go.” You feel his hot breath on your neck as he pounds into you, the door creaking behind you as he hits a brutal rhythm. With one hand gripping his hair, you pull his head back. His nose is red, green eyes shimmering in grief and determination.
The back of your head falls softly against the door and the cry building in your throat finally rips free as your orgasm sears through you. His wet hot mouth finds your throat, teeth scraping across your flesh Then he crumbles.
Sucking in a gasping cry, he whimpers against your neck and pulls you tightly against him. Using the door behind you as support, his muscular frame crushes against you as his hips slow and he empties himself inside of you in lazy, deep thrusts.
Adrian carries you back to the couch bridal style, your legs slung over his forearm, feet dangling as you cuddle into his shoulder. Neither of you bother getting dressed, he just pulls you tightly against him and drags a blanket draped over the back of the couch over the two of you.
Your eyes flutter closed. You feel so far from home. This world is yours, but it's alien to you now, nearly unrecognizable at the hands of power hungry men.
Despite this, you relax in Adrian's arms. This place, even if its fucked up, has its beauty. However long it lasts, you wouldn't trade what you have right now for anything else. Your enemies, and fate itself, will have to wrestle it from your grip.
Utterly spent, you squeeze your eyes against a not entirely unpleasant spinning sensation. As your consciousness fades into that black emptiness, you register Adrian's hair brushing your cheek, soft as a sigh, and his lips moving against your neck.
“I’m going to fix this. Whatever I have to do, whoever I have to destroy… I won't let them take you from me"
To be continued...
What do you think about Chris and Adrians rift? Please like comment or reblog is you made it this far it means a lot to me 🫶
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How do you think Adrian would react to his gf wanting to watch him jerk off? I think he would be nervous at first but then get all into it, pretending he’s a cam boy for her
he thinks its funny at first, just completely absurd that you wanna watch him tug one out, he laughs in your face, looking at you like you're crazy "you're such a fucking weirdo, why would you wanna watch me jerking off?"
you could be honest with him, tell him you're just aching to see how good your boyfriend looks holding his dick, that you wanna watch as his face rips open with pleasure by his own gorgeous hand
but after that little jab- you choose to make him blush instead
"you're an insanely hot guy adrian, why wouldn't i wanna see that?" you tease with a haughty grin
adrian gulps loudly, almost chokes on his spit, he's still very unused to being called 'hot' in that way, he chuckles something bashful and infuriatingly endearing
he also chooses to mask his nerves with a deflection, another teasing jab "they got sites for that you know? if you're into that sorta thing-" his eyes shine with satisfaction when you inevitably snort in response to that
when you finally convince him to do it, when he's spread out on the bed before you he immediately goes red at the cheeks, suddenly theres nothing amusing about the situation at all
he feels the pressure of putting on a show for you under the heavy weight of your stare, he stutters his words, he asks "like t-this? is this okay? should i do it f-faster?" he literally overthinks touching himself, as if he's hasn't done it so sooo many times
you have to coo at him a couple times for him to breathe in deeply and relax, he shuffles in place, avoids your eyes like he can't stand the unrelenting attention, his hands slide down his dick in tantalizing but still hesitant strokes, so you purr at him "such a good boy adrian, i love the way you play with yourself, it gets me so hot"
and that absolutely switches something inside his brain, he chokes, his hand immediately gains momentum in its rhythm, he hisses at the friction inflicted by his own impatient hand, he lets out a loud strained moan that ends with an elongated "yeah?" intended just for you, so you keep sweet talking to him
suddenly adrian is not all that shy, now he's even making eye contact only to smile so fucking big when your brows and mouth dip in awe, his eyes roll back and he whimpers when you gasp his name in incredulity of how stupidly and devastatingly hot he looks
adrian's hair is sticking to his forehead, his glasses are at risk of falling off his nose, his abs are clenching with punched out breaths, his column stirring and arching up the bed with every time you say his name
"yeah" you answer finally, not subtle at all when you slide your hand down the front of your jeans, you both gasp when you finally make contact with your wet, neglected center, "only camboy i wanna see" you add, giving him a teasing smile that paints his entire face far more red than it already was
"god shut the fuck up" he answers with an embarrassed groan and you giggle sweetly, victorious too
adrian cant help but laugh with you at the same time he hisses at his own relentless tugs, he's trying to match the rhythm of your hands as you plunge them inside you
he gets real high on the idea of both you and him getting off without ever touching once
