Pairing: Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Reader

Summary: Not too long ago, Adrian Chase lost the love of his life. And it broke him.

But when he stumbles into another dimension, he finds you again. Drunk and happy and breathing, with no idea that he isn’t the Adrian you know.

And maybe he lost his mind when he lost you. Maybe he’s fallen a little too deep into the darkness. But when he sees you again, touches you again, he can’t help but think that maybe…maybe he can have you again.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI: Swearing, Mentions of grief, Mentions of death, Alcohol consumption (reader is drunk), Kind of dubcon? (Reader is drunk and doesn’t know he’s not her Adrian), Thoughts of kidnapping, Obsession, Please let me know if I forgot anything!

Author’s Note: This ended up being a little longer than I expected it to be, but here it is! I haven’t figured out exactly how Adrian got to our dimension in the first place, so I’ll leave it up to interpretation. Just enjoy the angst! Don’t hate me! I know so many of you have become as attached to Alt!Adrian as I have, so this one’s for you guys! Have our poor grieving boy trying to pull himself back from the edge and…well, failing.

(This is a drabble/prequel to Not Quite Him. If you haven’t checked it out, I encourage you to do so!)

-

The door to the bar opens, releasing the sound of chatter and music into the night, and Adrian turns to duck down another alley. To hide himself against the brick and continue on his mission to get out of here and back to his-

Your laughter cuts through the air. Through him.

It feels like a fucking gunshot. It makes his knees nearly buckle. His blood runs hot and cold at the same time. His vision blurs behind his contacts and his heart freezes in his chest.

“Adrian!” And there you are, illuminated by dim streetlights and grinning from ear to ear. You. The love of his life. The ghost of the woman who died in his arms, now standing before him outside the bar in an alley not too different from the one you died in. When you were choking on your own blood while he held you and couldn’t do anything but watch the light leave your eyes as he rocked you and clung to you and begged you to stay stay stay baby please don’t go don’t go don’t-

Pairings: Vigilante/Adrian X Fem Reader

Submission: Adrian Chase x reader fic where you’re also a tech person, so you usually sit in the van with Economos on missions, but that makes Adrian jealous even tho he doesn’t know why.

Tags: [Fluff] [Start of Dating] [Jealous]

Blogs Tagged: @bunch-of-bens

A/N: This is a request from the above blog. Hope you enjoy!

It was easy. Your job was easy. Sit in the van, watch the feeds, keep everyone alive with quick updates. That was the routine, you and Economos holding down the tech while the others ran point. Comfortable. Predictable.

Until Adrian joined full-time.

You didn’t notice the shift at first, not until he started reacting every time you laughed at one of John’s quips. Through the headset, you’d hear him go oddly quiet, or overcompensate by blurting out something ridiculous. It was funny at first, but somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling like a joke.

On the next mission, it came to a head.

“Hey, uh, (Y/N), are you watching me on the camera right now? Do I look cool?”

“Yes, Adrian, you look so cool climbing that fence.”

“Okay, good. Just making sure. Also, I bet Economos doesn’t look this cool sitting in a chair, right?”

John sighed. “Jesus Christ.”

You tried not to laugh, but failed, and you swore you could hear Adrian’s whole posture change through the comms.

Tonight, it was the same setup, van duty with Economos, while Peacemaker and Vig did the sneaking. Your fingers moved over the keyboard in rhythm, pulling schematics, checking feeds. John gave steady directions; your snark layered in, as usual.

Adrian’s voice broke the flow.

“And you, (Y/N), uh, don’t forget to watch my camera angle. I probably look way cooler sneaking than Chris does right now.”

You smiled despite yourself. “Adrian, you’re literally stuck in a thorn bush.”

Chris’s laughter cracked loud and unrestrained. “Bro, she’s got you pegged.”

Rustling over the mic, then Adrian’s huff. “Yeah, well… Economos doesn’t make you laugh like that, does he?”

The van went still. John blinked at you. What the hell is he talking about? he mouthed.

You pressed your lips together. “Adrian, are you… jealous?”

Static, then his voice pitched high and defensive. “What? No! That’s insane. I’m not jealous of a guy who looks like he gets winded standing up from his chair.”

“Rude,” John muttered.

Adrian kept going anyway, the words tumbling faster, less filtered. “I just think maybe I should get to sit in the van with you sometime. Because I’d be better at it. I’d make it fun. I could bring snacks, and, like, tell you jokes. And I wouldn’t let you get shot because I’d be watching your back the whole time. Which is the point, right?”

Your chest tightened. Under the rambling, there it was: something honest.

John leaned back in his chair. “Jesus, man. Just ask her out already.”

Silence. You swore you could hear Adrian’s heartbeat through the comms before his voice came small and uncertain: “…Would you maybe want to, uh, go out with me sometime? You know, when we’re not… killing people?”

Chris immediately burst out laughing. “Dude, you’re seriously doing this right now? On a mission?”

“Yes,” Adrian said, blunt and unapologetic. “So everyone’s on the same page. Especially Economos, so he can back off.”

“What the hell did I do?” John muttered, throwing his hands up.

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. “Okay, wait. Can we get back to work? We’re in the middle of trying to kill evil people. So, focus?”

Another pause.

the hip adjustment? god someone sedate me… 🤤

i need this tall, rude man so fucking bad i have no excuses. I'm a lil late to the Twisters hype but i just needed to get this outta my system. Lmk if you like <3

scott miller x reader, scott from twisters x reader warnings: this is 18+ content, MDNI. smut, this man is mean, degradation, semi-public sex.

Scott was tired, tired of scratchy sheets and stiff motel pillows, tired of convenience store sandwiches and cheap roadside beers, tired of dealing with amateur storm chasers that only made his job ten times harder and greedy uptight investors who were never satisfied with his work.

Even Javi, his long time Storm Par business partner had been finding new and creative ways to piss him off with his constant off book behavior.  

Scott was just tired, of all of it. Miserable in every way that counts.

So when he sees you, one of the Tornado Wranglers, walking across the parking lot towards him and the Storm Par team, all the cheerfulness in your strut, he swears he might just blow a gasket. 

pairing .ᐟ scott miller x fem!reader

warnings .ᐟ 18+ mdni. sharing gum. mentions of sex. established relationship. makeout sessions.

summary .ᐟ big meanie scott miller sharing his gum with his sweetheart of a girlfriend :0 (+ the 1 time you share your gum with him).

acknowledgements .ᐟ gif creds: @/corensweat

the first time scott does what you’d previously thought of as disgusting and revolting, was during one of your regular storm chasing afternoons.

back then you were just fuck buddies, keeping each other’s beds warm without the commitment, something scott was open about to you when it first started—at first it broke your heart but you learnt to live with it and accept it.

the day wasn’t going as expected, your hair sticking to your skin with rain, the data you were supposed to be collecting coming out all wrong, the storm seemingly disappearing right before your eyes—everyone was on edge.

your chest huffed as you looked down at your reports, the numbers not adding up to the measure you needed them to, only furthering you into an overthinking mess.you’d been chewing chunks out of the inside of your cheek, the the dried skin on your bottom lip not any better as your teeth scraped them off with with each nibble, the stress of the day urging you to nervously gnaw on something.

scott noticed; of course he did, he noticed every little thing about you— from the way you’d nervously tick when anxious, to the meticulous morning routine you had after each and every single one of your rendezvous.

he smacked his gum, scratching at the stubble growing on his jaw as he eyed you, the clipboard with data in his hands at the back of his mind now, too proud to admit with his full chest that he worried about you when you’d get like this, “you good?” he finally spoke up, voice gravelly, his nose twitching as he sniffled, the edge of the clipboard digging into his abdomen.

you looked up from the tablet in your hands, eyes wide as saucers; “what?” you asked, the assault from your teeth onto your already bleeding bottom lip, halted for a moment.

“i asked if you’re good, you’re uh, you’re doing that thing,” he paused, gesturing to your lips, his blue eyes pierced as he studied you, his eyes raking over your almost trembling with anxiety, figure.

you could taste the metallic twang from your bleeding bottom lip, lifting the pad of your fingers to touch it, looking down at your blood stained fingers as you swallowed, his voice echoing in the background as he called out your name.

you cleared your throat, your tongue darting out to wet your lips before humming, “yeah yeah—i’m fine, just really frustrated i guess—i uh-you got any more gum?” you finally blurted out, hoping to stop the assault on your bruised and bleeding bottom lip by chewing some gum.

scott looked at you, passing off the clipboard to someone walking by before checking his pockets, patting himself down. he realised slowly that the one he was currently smacking on was the last one he had, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek as his gaze zeroed in again on that anxious tick of yours, looking around to check if the rest of the team were looking before stepping forward, his face stoic, not at all giving away what he was about to do.

his large hand reached your jaw first, calloused palm tender against your skin before he bent down to accommodate your height, your brain catching up with your body slower than what you’d want it to, lips parted as his other hand moved to the belt loops on your jeans, hooking his index finger into one of them to pull your closer to him.

in a flurry his lips were pressed to yours, your breath catching in your throat as you kissed him back almost instantly, your lips moulding to the shape of one another’s, your body responding to his all too familiar touch as you melted into his embrace, your legs like jelly, the only thing keeping you grounded being his hand on your belt loop.

your skin prickled with goosebumps as your colleagues began staring, but you couldn’t find it in you to care, not with how his tongue prodded into your mouth with urgency, your head spinning as you angled your head so he could have his way, the kiss growing a tad desperate, completely oblivious to how he was manoeuvring the piece of minty fresh gum from his mouth into yours, his hand that had been on your jaw having slid down to the base of your throat, sitting loosely around the delicate skin there.

your eyes shot open as you felt the piece of gum in your mouth, your first instinct being to spit it out immediately, brows furrowed at the soft material on your tongue, until your eyes caught his, the emotions he couldn’t convey with his words shouting out to you from the windows to his soul, blinking as his stare willed you to keep your mouth closed and keep the piece of gum, his gum between your chapped lips.

without even realising you’d begun chewing it, the taste of the gum paired with that distinct taste that was scott miller, making your breathing falter, your cheeks warm as you kept chewing, blowing a bubble before looking over to your colleague’s, some of them mortified from the public display of affection, especially from someone like scott; others who’s motel rooms were right next to yours, having heard every little moan and breathy whimper you made when scott’s cock was buried deep inside, not surprised at all, and javi? poor javi was as confused as ever.

you swallowed, your eyes never leaving scott’s as you chewed on the gum, the anxiety you’d been experiencing seemingly leaving your body. wordlessly he straightened up, lifting his signature blue peak cap from his head, smoothing down his hair as he placed it atop your head, another public claim on you, unconsciously letting everyone know you were his; his eyes speaking to you again, reassuring you.

a classic “mean to everyone but you” scott miller move you guessed.

with a pat to your shoulder he left, busying himself with work as he usually did, leaving your mind (and cotton panties) a mess, smiling to yourself at his display of affection, the gum between your teeth a sweet reminder to it.

the second time he does it is roughly a month later, your relationship public and solidified, the office at stormpar’s headquarters coming to know you now as scott miller’s too sweet girlfriend, often wondering how your dynamic worked seeing as scott constantly looked a grumpy mess.

“god damn it i asked for it to be done today! why can’t anyone get this shit right?!” you heard him yell from down the hall, some intern scrambling back to their desk, scared as a mouse, scott’s presentation for his uncle and a couple of investors in about thirty minutes.

you stood from your desk, downing the rest of your water as you met him outside the boardroom. “you okay? can see the steam blasting from your ears from a mile away,” you attempted to joke, smiling up at him as your hand reached for his, his jaw working as he chewed his usual minty gum.

“fuck—nothings going how i wanted it to go, and those god awful intern hire’s are useless-“ he huffed, running his hand that wasn’t holding yours down his face.

your brows furrowed, picking up on his frustration, “breathe, you’ll be okay - seen you give mean presentations a thousand times before, with a damn good poker face too; this is nothin’ scott,” you hummed, letting his hand fall for a moment to smooth down his collar.

he nodded, about to respond when the intern from earlier scrambled back toward him, apologising profusely as they handed him the correct material, that hard, quite frankly nerve wracking stare of his piercing their skin, the terrified look on their face making you snort, trying your hardest not to laugh as they scurried away.

you shook your head, looking down at your shoes before sighing, “you’re too scary sometimes y’know? gotta be nicer baby,” you giggled, his nervousness disappearing for a moment.

he shook his head, dimples announcing themselves to the world as he smacked his gum, “only person i need to be cordial to is you, fuck the rest of em” he huffed, looking down at his digital watch, that grumpy look you’ve come to know and love back on his face.

you rolled your eyes at his words, looking down at your own watch to see that it was time for him to go; “you’ll do amazing i know it—fore’ you go in there munching away, gum—“ you paused, holding your hand out, palm to the sky as you waited for him to spit out his gum into your palm, so you could dispose of it.

he simply shook his head, smirking briefly before pressing his lips to yours, his kiss hasty but chaste, his tongue prodding into your warm mouth as he passed his gum to you again, already becoming all whoozy at the action.

he pulled away hastily, clearing his throat as he smiled at his handy work, the sight of you chewing his gum always working wonders for his ego—becoming his second favourite thing in the world (first place was loving you of course).

with a soft slap to your ass he entered the board room, the door closing softly with a click. you smiled to yourself as you hovered outside, bowing a bubble as a throat clearing from behind you, disturbed your moment of tranquility, your head snapping to find javi with a disgusted look on his face, only giggling in response.

“you two are disgusting, truly,” javi remarked, grimacing at the idea of you chewing someone else’s gum, his words however, holding no real malice to them.

“don’t knock it till you try it javi,” you giggled, running after him to piss him off further as you held your fingers crossed that scott’s proposal would go well.

the first time you pull his signature move on him is as you’re getting back from the grocery store, his strong arms carrying the multiple bags into the kitchen of your shared apartment, closing the door behind him before locking it as he set the bags down onto the counter.

he went through them, the bubble you’d blown with the last piece of gum you had, popping, masking the sound of his grumble as he sorted through the bag.

“ah fuck,” he mouthed, looking over his shoulder as he watched you pack everything that needed to be chilled, into the fridge.

“we forget somethin?” you hummed, placing the punnets of blueberries and strawberries into the crisper. “yeah—forgot my gum, can you believe it?” he huffed, muttering another “fuck” under his breath as he crossed his arms over his chest, the man not able to function without his preferred brand of gum, only realising then that you’d been smacking on some gum the whole time.

“you got any left sweetie?” he hummed, walking across the kitchen to where you stood, his large hands smoothing around your waist from behind, turning you around in his arms as he smoothly closed the fridge door behind you, softly pressing your back to it.

this was all normal for you, him manhandling you whenever and wherever, your body pliant under his grasp. “mhm? got any left of what?” you furrowed your brows, doing a mental checklist of what you could’ve forgotten.

his hands smooth down from your waist to your ass, squeezing and massaging the flesh as he gestured to the bubble you’d just blown with a nod, effortlessly lifting you up into his arms.

you mentally “ohhhh’d”, prepared to watch disappointment overcome his handsome features as you readied yourself to shake your head, the word “nope” on the tip of your tongue before you remembered you’d been chewing on a piece of gum yourself.

with a smile on your plush lips you pressed them to his, smiling into the kiss as you felt him move you over to one of the counters, the marble countertop cool against your skin, your lips moving languidly against his as you tried to control the pace of the kiss, your body’s urge to let him do whatever he pleased, fighting against the idea you had.

as your arms moved around his neck, deepening the kiss as your tongue danced with his, moving the gum into his mouth, your saliva mixing oh so erotically with his, the gesture making his jeans tighten, your panties no doubt flushed with wetness as he seemed to only grow hungrier now with your gum in his mouth.

he pulled back after a moment, a string of saliva connecting your swollen, kiss bitten lips, his dimples showing cockily as he chewed the shit out of (your) his gum.

“using my own tricks on me now are you? thank you baby,” he guffawed, smirking as his hands moved to the hem of your shirt, goosebumps prickling your skin as he moved his calloused hands over the soft skin of your belly.

you only shrugged, satisfied with yourself as you surged forward to press quick little kisses to his lips, smiling as he continued smacking the gum regardless.

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Pairing: Adrian Chase x reader. W/C :5125

Summary : Post fake dating mission you realize the kiss you and Adrian shared awoke something you’ve tried to keep dormant.

Tags/Warnings : SMUT MDNI, oral (male receiving), classic pathetic whiny!Adrian (said with love), bombshell!reader

A/N : After episode 6 I AM HOPELESSLY OBSESSED WITH THIS DORK!!! Like seriously it’s doubled (lol) anywayyyy I hope you guys enjoy it’s set in the middle of season 1 bc I love Murn 🤷🏻‍♀️

Comments, tags, and reblogs with reaction memes always make my day 🩵

=================================

The safehouse smelled like cold takeout and sweat. Everyone was slumped in their usual spots—Economos at his laptop, Adebayo on the couch with a blanket draped over her shoulders, Harcourt standing with her arms crossed like she’d rather be anywhere else. Adrian sat too close beside you, his knee bumping yours, still humming with leftover energy from the mission.

Murn stood at the head of the table, stone-faced as ever. “Debrief,” his eyes flicked between you “excellent cover. You integrated seamlessly, got Malloy’s schedule, and passed intel without drawing suspicion.”

Adrian beamed like a kid with a gold star. “We crushed it.” He looked at you proudly. “We’re like Batman and…uh not Robin. Batman and Batwoman. Except you’re hotter.”

You elbowed him, but your cheeks warmed anyway.

Murn didn’t react. “Smith, Harcourt.” His voice dipped into something sharper. “You bailed early. Why?”

Chris bristled. “Because somebody” he jerked a thumb at Harcourt “acted like making out with me was worse than waterboarding. Couldn’t exactly fake happy-couple vibes if my date looked like she wanted to stab me in the spleen.”

Harcourt’s jaw tightened. “You were too forward. Suburban wives know the difference between a natural couple and a guy who looks like he’s trying to cop a feel in public.”

Chris scoffed. “Forward? That’s what normal couples do! Ask literally anyone in America!”

“Not at a dinner party, jackass.”

Economos slammed his laptop shut. “Jesus Christ. If these two pulled it off—” he waved angrily at you and Adrian— “then why couldn’t you just fucking kiss him?” His voice cracked with pure frustration. “It’s not rocket science, Harcourt.”

The room froze. Harcourt’s glare could’ve cut steel. “Excuse me?”

Economos plowed on, gesturing wildly. “All you had to do was sell it. One kiss, maybe two, and we’d have Malloy’s contacts mapped by now. But no, you had to make it weird, and then you bailed, and now we’re behind.”

Chris’s mouth opened, then shut. Harcourt looked like she was two seconds from breaking a chair over Economos’s head.

You cleared your throat. “Maybe screaming at each other isn’t productive?”

“Agreed,” Murn said flatly, like he was already regretting his life choices. “We’ll recalibrate before the next attempt.” He looked back at you and Adrian. “But for tonight? Good work.”

Adrian straightened, still grinning. “Best fake couple ever.”

You tried to focus on the praise, on the mission’s success, but your pulse still fluttered every time you remembered the slow dance, the kiss, the way his hand had cupped your jaw like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Best fake couple ever. Right. So why didn’t it feel fake anymore?

The night should’ve ended at the safehouse. Instead, Adrian insisted on walking you to your car like he hadn’t just survived an undercover op with HOA couples and casserole-based small talk.

He leaned against your passenger door, helmet tucked under his arm, curls sticking up again after the hours of “suburban husband chic” you’d carefully assembled. He looked ridiculous. He looked happy.

“That was so fun,” he gushed, voice carrying in the quiet parking lot. “Like, not butterfly-fun, but actual fun. Did you see the way those dads were nodding at me? Like I was their leader? I could start a dad cult. Dads love me. I’m basically a dad magnet. Which sounds gross, but in a non-sexual way. Unless… well, no, definitely non-sexual.”

You unlocked the car. “You really wanna lead a dad cult?”

“Why not? We’d wear polos. Grill meat. Talk about how we’re totally gonna fix the deck next weekend. Oh my god, you’d be amazing in a dad cult. You’d organize the bake sales. You already made lemon bars like a champion.”

You shook your head, laughing as you slid into the driver’s seat. “Get in before someone calls security on us.”

He climbed in, still talking. “And did you see when you let me tell the bee story? They bought it. Hook, line, and stinger. You’re a genius. You let me go full improv. Most people shut me down before I get to the good part, like the,” He made buzzing noises. “but you didn’t. You’re the best fake girlfriend I’ve ever had.”

You pulled out of the lot. “How many fake girlfriends have you had, exactly?”

“Counting you?” He held up one finger. “So… yeah. Just you.”

Your chest tightened in a way you didn’t like.

The drive was quiet for about two minutes, record time for Adrian before he piped up again. “You know, if this were a real relationship, this would be the part where I walk you to your door and try to look suave, but then I trip over my own dick, metaphorically. My real dick doesn’t trip. It’s very coordinated.”

You nearly swerved. “Adrian.”

“What? I’m just saying. It’s got rhythm. Could probably win America’s Got Talent.”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing. “Shut up.”

He grinned, smug. “You’re smiling.”

“I’m regretting every life choice that led me to this moment.”

“Hot. Say it slower.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling up to your building. You should’ve let him go, should’ve said goodnight and left it there. But when you glanced at him, helmet in his lap, hopeful puppy energy practically radiating off him, you couldn’t do it.

“You don’t have to go all the way back to your mom’s,” you said finally. “It’s late. You can crash here.”

He blinked. “Here? With you?”

“Yes. Guest room.” You emphasized it, hard.

“Oh. Yeah. Guest room. Totally. Unless you secretly want me in your bed, in which case, wow, what a twist.”

“Guest room, Adrian.”

He grinned, wide and boyish. “Got it. Guest room. With my very talented, balanced dick.”

You groaned, shoving his shoulder lightly as you parked. He laughed the whole way inside, buzzing with the same adrenaline you’d both been pretending wasn’t there.

And for the first time that night, you weren’t sure if letting him stay was a mistake or the smartest decision you’d ever made.

Your apartment wasn’t anything fancy cozy, lived-in, the kind of place that smelled like clean laundry and vanilla candles, but Adrian looked at it like you’d just walked him into the Louvre.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, helmet tucked under one arm. “It’s so… you. Like, I don’t know what I expected. Maybe beanbags. Or swords on the wall. But this is—” He stopped in front of your bookshelf, crouching. “Do you alphabetize your books and color-code them? That’s… honestly, that’s hotter than I thought it would be.”

You closed the door behind you, kicking off your shoes. “Try not to rifle through all my stuff.”

“I would never,” he said, already picking up a photo frame. It was you, your sister, and your niece, laughing mid-silly-face. Adrian smiled at it, soft. “Your family’s cute. You look happy.”

The way he said it, quiet, without a trace of irony made you pause. “Yeah. They’re my… everything.”

He set the frame back carefully, then perked up again, bouncing on his toes like the sincerity had short-circuited him. “So where’s the guest room? Or do I get, like, a cot in the bathtub?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “End of the hall.”

He saluted, striding toward it like a soldier on parade. But of course, he stopped halfway, drawn to the kitchen like a moth to flame. He opened the fridge, whistled. “Wow. Actual vegetables. Do you eat these or are they props?”

“I eat them,” you said flatly.

“Hot,” he muttered, still digging. “Whoa, is that oat milk? You’re so L.A. chic.”

“I’m not from L.A.”

“You’ve got the vibes. Like, ‘oh my god, let’s go do hot yoga and then talk about our feelings over açai bowls.’” He shut the fridge and leaned against it, grinning. “I’d totally go to hot yoga with you.”

You snorted, covering your mouth too late. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Thank you.”

You shook your head, finally steering him down the hall to the guest room. It wasn’t much just a bed, dresser, lamp, but he flopped onto it with a satisfied groan. “Oh my god. This is the nicest bed I’ve ever been on that didn’t have, like, plastic sheets for ‘easy cleanup.’”

You paused in the doorway, raising a brow. “…I don’t want to know.”

“Good,” he said, already sprawled out like he owned the place. “Mystery is sexy.”

You grabbed an extra blanket from the closet and tossed it at him. He caught it clumsily, grinning. “Thanks, babe.”

The word hung between you. Too casual. Too easy.

You should’ve corrected him, reminded him it was all part of the bit. Instead, you just nodded. “Goodnight, Adrian.”

“Goodnight,” he said, voice softer now. Then, almost as an afterthought “Best fake girlfriend ever.”

You closed the door, heart hammering, and leaned against the wall.

Because the truth was, nothing about this felt fake anymore.

It was almost midnight when you padded into the kitchen, craving water. You flicked on the light, only to nearly drop your glass when a shadow moved by the fridge.

“Jesus Christ!” you hissed.

Adrian yelped, clutching his chest. “Holy shit—you scared me! I thought you were a burglar. A sexy burglar in pajamas.”

You pressed a hand to your racing heart. “You can’t just lurk by my fridge in the dark like a serial killer.”

“I wasn’t lurking,” he said indignantly, holding up a half-empty box of cereal. “I was scoping out midnight snack options. Very different. Also, do you know how depressing plain Cheerios are without sugar? It’s like eating sad circles.”

You sighed, setting your glass on the counter. “You’re hungry?”

“Starving,” he admitted, eyes wide and guileless. “Some lady kept hogging the crab dip. I only got, like, two Ritz crackers’ worth.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, fighting a smile. “Sit down. I’ll make you something.”

His whole face lit up like you’d offered him eternal salvation. “Really? Oh my god. This is like… playing house.” He plopped onto one of your barstools, chin in his hands, watching you like you were about to perform magic. “You, cooking in your kitchen, me sitting here telling you how hot you look cutting vegetables. it’s basically a Hallmark movie. Except, you know, with more dick jokes and potential homicide.”

You pulled eggs and bread from the fridge, shaking your head.

He leaned forward eagerly. “What’re you making?”

“Scrambled eggs. Toast. Nothing fancy.”

“Fancy enough. Did you know eggs are basically chicken periods?”

You gave him a flat look over your shoulder. “Thank you for ruining breakfast food forever.”

“You’re welcome.” He grinned, utterly unrepentant. “But seriously, this is great. Like, domestic. Cozy. If I didn’t know better, I’d say we were…” He stopped, suddenly aware of the line he was about to cross. His grin softened into something almost shy. “…real.”

The sizzle of butter in the pan filled the silence. You stirred the eggs, throat tight. “It was just for the mission, Adrian.”

“Right,” he said quickly, too quickly. But when you set the plate in front of him and he dug in with boyish delight, he looked up at you with scrambled egg on his fork and said, “You’d be really good at real, though.”

And you couldn’t bring yourself to argue.

You were fully prepared to watch him inhale them like a starving raccoon, and then send him back to the guest room. That was the plan. Keep the walls up. Keep the line between fake and real intact.

But when he looked up at you, mouth full of eggs, curls messy, eyes bright with that impossible, enthusiasm, you cracked.

You leaned against the counter, arms crossed, and said quietly, “You’re right. This is kind of like playing house.”

He froze, fork halfway to his mouth. “…Wait. Did you just admit I was right?”

“Don’t get used to it,” you warned, but your lips curved anyway.

He set the fork down slowly, like any sudden movement might scare you off. “So, like… in this game of house, are we… married? Dating? Divorced but still hooking up for old times’ sake—because honestly, all three sound hot.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Dating, Adrian. Let’s keep it simple.”

Something in his eyes shifted, sharp and hungry under all the dorky energy. “Dating. Okay. Yeah. I can do dating.”

Before you could think better of it, you stepped closer. He smelled like laundry soap and a hint of lemon from the bars earlier. He straightened instantly, wide-eyed, like a dog who just heard the treat bag crinkle.

And then you kissed him.

Not a fake cover kiss. Not a crowd-pleasing slow-dance kiss. A real one. Firm, deliberate, meant to shut him up and ruin your own damn rules in one move.

He made a startled noise, half gasp, half laugh and then grabbed your waist, pulling you flush against him. The stool screeched backward as he stood, towering over you, lips moving hungrily against yours.

“Holy shit,” he whispered when you broke for air. His forehead pressed to yours, his grin completely unhinged. “You just kissed me in your kitchen. This is… this is like porn, but better, because there’s eggs.”

You let out a laugh, trying to shush him, but he was already tumbling forward, mouth on yours again, kissing like he’d been waiting forever and suddenly realized he’d never have to stop.

Every time you tried to pull back, he chased your lips, babbling between kisses “You taste like…oh my god…like toothpaste and lemon—fuck, I’m so into this…it’s like a brunch fantasy but with way more tongue—”

“Adrian,” you managed, breathless, half laughing.

“Yeah?” His eyes were blown wide, pupils dark, curls sticking every which way as his hands roamed like he didn’t know where to put them first.

“You’re riled up.”

He grinned, feral and boyish all at once. “I told you I’d be great at house.”

And with that, he kissed you again, messier, deeper, eggs forgotten on the counter while you let yourself get lost in the disaster you’d just unleashed. Adrian’s mouth was hot and insistent on yours, his hands clumsy but eager as they slid up your sides.

You should’ve stopped. But the way he kissed you messy, desperate, like you were oxygen had you whispering against his lips before you even thought about it “Fuck it.”

His eyes snapped open. “Wait…fuck it, like, fuck it fuck it or?”

You grabbed his shirt, tugging him toward the hall. “Bedroom. Now.”

For a split second, he looked like he might combust from sheer joy. Then he practically stumbled after you, tripping over his own feet in his rush. “Oh my god, this is happening. This is actually happening. I knew playing house was a gateway drug.”

You shoved your bedroom door open, pulling him in. He barely got it shut before his hands were on you again, fumbling but determined.

“Holy shit,” he babbled between kisses, already breathless. “You’re like…like a freak in disguise. The bimbo thing? That’s like a camouflage, isn’t it? You’re actually feral. ”

“Keep talking,” you gasped, yanking his shirt over his head.

“Oh, I will. You think I ever shut up during sex? Nope. Not happening. You’re gonna get the full Adrian director’s commentary while I—”

You kissed him hard enough to shut him up, only for him to laugh into your mouth, delirious and turned on.

“God, you’re insane,” you muttered, pushing him back onto the bed.

He sprawled there, curls wild, chest heaving, grin unhinged. “Insane for you. Which is probably diagnosable, but whatever, let’s not invite a psychiatrist into this threesome.”

You climbed onto him, and he groaned like it was the best gift he’d ever been given. His hands roamed, hesitant one second, greedy the next, like he couldn’t decide between worshipping or devouring you.

“Holy shit,” he whispered again, voice cracking as you ground against him. “You’re not faking this, are you?”

“Not even a little,” you said, daring him with your eyes.

And that was all it took. He surged up, kissing you like a man possessed, like all the jokes and babble were just his way of containing the truth he wanted you, badly, and now that he had you, he wasn’t letting go.

The fake-dating rules, the team, the mission, they all blurred and disappeared as you matched his frenzy beat for beat, chaos answering chaos.

For once, Adrian Chase wasn’t too much. For once, he was exactly what you wanted.And neither of you cared about the fallout.

He made a choked sound when you kissed him again, more tongue than anything, your hand already slipping beneath his waistband like you’d made your decision and that was that.

“Wait—are we actually?” he gasped, voice climbing an octave as your fingers wrapped around him.

“Yeah,” you whispered against his lips. “We are.”

He let out a strangled moan, whole body going rigid like you’d just hit him with a stun gun.

“Fuck—fuck.” He whined. Full-on, actual whine. “You don’t understand,” he rambled, breathless as you stroked him slow. “You’ve been in my head for weeks. Every time you talked during mission briefings, I just stared at your mouth like a fucking idiot. I’d be thinking about it during recon, during stakeouts…once during a firefight, which is so unprofessional. You’re shit…you’re my Roman Empire.”

You let out a laugh, barely keeping your rhythm. “Adrian—”

“I mean it. You said ‘brunch version of you’ and I got hard, that’s not normal. You smiled at me while filing intel and I had to sit down. And now you’re doing this and I’m just—fuck, I’m two seconds away from coming in your hand.”

You slowed down just to watch him squirm. His hips bucked up helplessly, a sound punching out of him like it had been trapped.

“Please,” he whispered. “Please don’t tease me. You don’t understand what this is doing to me.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” you smile sweetly before you begin to kiss down his chest, down his hard toned abs.

“Holy shit,” he whispers to himself. You sit back on your knees as you pull down his boxers letting his painfully harden member fall heavy against his lower abdomen.

“Fuck.” You hear yourself say. He’s bigger than you expected. Considering how Chris called him Thimble you always kinda assumed it’d be…average? “Can I have a taste?” You ask as you kiss his thigh.

“Please please please you can have whatever you want,” he begs. If there’s one thing you love, it’s a man that begs. You lick up from the base to the top before wrapping your lips around the tip. Swiping your tongue over the slit collecting his pre cum and moaning in appreciation.

“Oh my god,” he struggles to say looking down at you eyes wide and the darkest green you’ve ever seen.

His thighs tremble.

Your mouth slides down lower, taking more of him, hand wrapped tightly around the base, your spit making everything slick and obscene.

And Adrian melts. His hands fist the sheets, then your hair, then the air, he can’t decide if he wants to worship you or fall apart.

“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this?” he babbles, unfiltered. “You..like this, on your knees, mouth on me…fuck—I’ve jerked off to this so many times it’s not even funny.”

You pull off just long enough to say, “You taste so fucking good.”

He lets out a strangled, pathetic whimper.

You stroke him while you speak, watching every reaction like a reward. “You’ve wanted this for a while, huh?”

He nods frantically. “Since day one. Since you smiled at me like I was funny instead of insane.”

You suck him back down, deeper this time. His hips jump. His breath hitsched so high it’s a gasp. His hands come back down to your hair pushing you down deeper, his hips coming up. He’s so greedy.

The way he withers beneath your mouth makes your thighs clench. He’s flushed and shaking, babbling like it’s his first orgasm on earth. You moan around him, just to feel the twitch, just to push him over the edge.

“Oh my god,” he whimpers, “you’re… you’re unreal..you’re too good at this… I’m gonna come… fuck, please don’t stop—please swallow it.”

He comes hard, a lot and you don’t even flinch. You swallow happily, lips wrapped around him until he’s wrung out and twitching.

When you finally pull off, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, he collapses against your pillow like a man who just saw God.

“This is like every porn video I’ve ever watched,” he sighs, dazed. “But soooo much better. Now I’m gonna think of this every time you talk. Like, full Pavlov response. You’ll say ‘briefing,’ and I’ll get hard.”

You laugh, slipping out of your clothes without breaking eye contact. He watches, wrecked and reverent, as you crawl back up the bed to straddle him.

“Wanna taste?” you tease, voice syrup-sweet as you lean down and kiss him.

His mouth opens under yours instantly. You let your tongue slide over his playfully, let him taste himself on you.

“You’re the best,” he whispers against your lips. “In every fucking way possible.”

His hand slides between your thighs, fingers dipping through your slick. He groans, long, low, reverent.

“Oh, I bet it feels so fucking good in there,” he sighs, sliding a finger inside.

You moan into his mouth, hips twitching as he starts to pump it in and out, slow and deep.

“Jesus,” he mutters, eyes locked on yours. “You’re so wet. I barely touched you. You got like this just from sucking my dick?”

You nod, panting, rolling your hips into his hand. “I’ve wanted you. Just like this.”

He moans again, overwhelmed. “I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you.”

You leaned down, mouth brushing his ear. “Show me you deserve me.”

“You’re gonna break me. I’m gonna be one of those guys who pines. I’m gonna smell your shampoo on my pillow for the next year and cry. I’m gonna write your name in my FBI-issued journal.”

You climbed on top of him and he whimpered. Whimpered.

“What position do you want me in first?” Yoy ask against the shell of his ear.

You didn’t expect him to go quiet.

But he does.

Your words — whispered hot against the shell of his ear — turn his whole body to stone. His hands tremble where they rest on your thighs. His chest rises in short, shallow gasps.

“What position…” you repeat, kissing just beneath his ear, “…do you want me in first?”

He whimpers again and covers his face with both hands.

“Oh my god.” His voice is wrecked. “Oh my god, I can’t decide. You’re asking me? I thought you were gonna just fuck me without warning. Like boom, snapped in half, goodnight.”

You pull his hands gently away from his face. His eyes are glassy, pupils blown wide.

“I can fuck you however you want,” you murmur. “You just have to choose.”

“I can’t choose,” he breathes. “That’s the problem. Every position? Sounds like the best idea I’ve ever had. Cowgirl? Amazing. Missionary? I get to see your face and cry. You on your knees? I might actually black out. Me going down on you until you’re shaking? That’s the dream. Me bent in half while you ride me and talk shit?” He moans,loud. “I’m so fucked up about that idea it’s unreal.”

You laugh, low and pleased, grinding your hips just enough to make him twitch beneath you. “Adrian.”

He clutches your waist like a lifeline. “Please ride me first. I need to feel you. Need to see you like that.”

You line him up, and he’s throbbing, leaking, practically vibrating with the kind of tension that can only come from weeks of fantasizing and finally getting the real thing.

And then you sink down. Slow. All the way. Until he’s fully inside you, deep and thick and stretching you so perfectly you have to brace your hands on his chest just to breathe.

“Holy shit,” he groans. His head falls back into the pillow, mouth open, jaw slack. “ I’ve never felt anything like this. You’re so warm. You’re so tight. You’re…fuck.”

“You’re so deep,” you whisper, beginning to roll your hips.

And then he’s babbling again. “Yesyesyes, oh my god, yes. I’ll be so good to you. I’ll worship you. I’ll buy you stuff. I’ll make you breakfast. I’ll get your name tattooed on my dick. Just…don’t stop. Don’t ever stop. Please.”

Your hands slide up his chest, feeling every twitch, every desperate gasp.

“You love this, don’t you?” you purr. “Being used like this.”

He nods, eyes wet, voice trembling. “Yes. Yes. I love it. I love you. Fuck—did I say that too soon? Doesn’t matter. I do. I love you. I’m obsessed with you. I’m ruined for anyone else. This pussy is mine now, right? Say yes. Please say yes. I’ll beg again. I like begging—”

You kiss him, hard and hungry, swallowing the rest of his chaos.

And when you pull back, your lips wet and your thighs trembling, you say the thing that finishes him completely

“It’s all yours.”

He makes a sound, raw and hoarse, like it’s being ripped out of him, and arches up so deep inside you it makes your whole body stutter.

And in that moment, Adrian is gone. Fucked stupid. Fucked in love.

You’re riding him hard now hips rolling, sweat slick between you, his hands gripping your ass like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. He’s been babbling nonstop, tossing out praises like prayers, like every word might keep you there a little longer.

“You’re unreal… you feel so good… I could die like this, happy, smiling… fuck, I’d leave a note and everything ‘death by pussy, signed: a grateful Adrian Chase.’”

You press a hand to his mouth. “Shh,” you whisper, breathless, grinding down slow. “It’s your turn to listen.”

He moans into your palm, eyes fluttering, head tilting back like he’s offering up his whole goddamn soul.

And you feel it how close you are. How bad you want it. But it’s not enough. The pace, the rhythm, the angle, it’s perfect, but it’s not it.

He sees it in your eyes. You don’t have to say anything. You slow. You hesitate. And before the disappointment even lands in your chest

Adrian moves.

He shifts you gently, flipping you over with surprising strength, hands guiding your thighs apart. His eyes are so wide, so fucking devoted, it makes your heart catch.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers. “Let me get you there. Please. I need to.”

You open your mouth to respond. And then he sinks back inside.

Slow. Careful.

One of his hands reaches for yours, intertwining your fingers and pressing it against the pillow beside your head. The other rests right over your stomach.

And when he moves deep, slow, tender, it’s not about him anymore. It’s about you.

“You’re everything,” he whispers, forehead brushing yours. “Everything I ever wanted and didn’t think I could have.”

You gasp, your legs wrapping tight around his waist.

His voice is wrecked, low, barely holding together. “I wanna make you come so bad it hurts. Not because I need it, but because I want you to feel how much I fucking adore you.”

He rocks into you just right and you whimper, eyes stinging.

“I’ll do anything,” he says, kissing your cheek, your jaw, your neck. “I’ll buy you flowers every morning. I’ll rub your feet after missions. I’ll learn how to cook for real. I’ll call you baby in public and mean it. I’ll never make you feel small. I’ll be yours in every way I know how to be.”

You’re gripping his hand now like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

He presses his forehead to yours again. “You’re so close, aren’t you?”

You nod, breath catching.

“Good girl,” he breathes. “Come for me. Please.”

And it’s not the rhythm. It’s not the pressure. It’s him. The voice. The hand in yours. The soft, impossible things he’s whispering just for you.

You come hard, gasping his name, back arching as the wave crashes through you.

He watches it all the way your mouth parts, the tears that spring to your lashes, the way your body writhes under his and his own release hits seconds later.

He buries his face in your neck, hips jerking, groaning against your skin like he’s never felt anything like this before.

Because he hasn’t and neither have you.

You both lie there, tangled, trembling, the silence thick with everything you didn’t mean to say but did.

And when he finally catches his breath, voice barely audible against your throat, he whispers,

“…I think you just broke me in the best fucking way.”

You don’t know how long you stay like that pressed together, sweaty and shaking, your heart still thudding like it hasn’t gotten the memo that it’s over.

Adrian hasn’t moved.

His body is still wrapped around yours, chest flush to yours, arms banded tight around your back, one leg thrown over yours like he’s afraid you might disappear if he doesn’t physically anchor you to the bed.

He’s still inside you. Soft now, overstimulated, but not willing to let go just yet.

Your fingers trace idle circles against the sweaty slope of his shoulder. You’re still catching your breath when you feel it the tiniest little tremble in his chest.

And then he exhales. Sharp. Shaky. Emotional.

“…man,” he whispers. “I think I saw God.”

You laugh, soft, breathless and tilt your head just enough to look at him.

He’s blinking up at the ceiling like he just came back from war. Hair a total mess. Chest heaving. Lips red and bitten.

You brush a thumb across his cheek. “You okay?”

He nods quickly, eyes darting to you like he wants to make sure you’re still here. Still real.

“I just… fuck.” He smiles, dazed. “You really meant it, didn’t you?”

You blink. “Meant what?”

He pulls back just far enough to meet your eyes. His voice is hoarse. Small.

“When you said it was mine.”

Your breath catches.

Because you did say that. You meant it at the time. And now, after everything, you’re sure it wasn’t just dirty talk.

You nod slowly. “Yeah. I meant it.”

Something breaks in his face, something soft and boyish and so stupidly vulnerable that it makes your chest ache.

He lowers his head to your collarbone and just stays there, breathing you in.

“I’m gonna be so annoying about this,” he mumbles.

Like in season 1 episode 5 yes he's pretty easily manipulated by Adebayo to kill Peacemakers dad, but he turns around and manipulates the shit out of those rednecks. He doesn't antagonize them for fun, it's like Auggie points out, he's making the Nazi's throw the first punch so he's not at 'fault' if anyone checks the footage.

Not only that, but he also decimated every single one of them in less than a minute while having a severed toe and recently being stabbed and electrocuted in the balls (potential healing factor aside).

He's also got a very specific moral compass that's somewhat based in law (eg., Marijuana 'three years ago, I would have killed you for that') and somewhat based on values (eg., racism) where every infraction is punishable by death. Not only that, but he loves to do it. He finds so much pleasure in having that control over someone's life.

He's got a whole kit for dismembering bodies, which pretty heavily implies he's used to hiding the evidence of his murders. The cops seem to know he's Vigilante, but he hasn't been arrested.

I'm not calling him crazy because he's not. He's unstable, yes, but that's not the same thing. He's actually very smart and dangerous as shit. I think it's important to remember that and not stick him into this little box of 'baby boy who needs protection' or 'idiot'.

gif credits

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