𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘
peacemaker x reader | adrian chase x black! fem! reader
adrian forgets something at your place, which requires him and chris to make a little pit stop before eliminating a local butterfly. hilarity ensues as chris realizes not only does adrian have a girlfriend... but his girlfriend is a total smoekshow.
cw - fluffy fluff, mentions of sex, protective adrian, lovesick adrian, lovesick reader, mature themes, 18+, profane language, chris and his usual shit (he's kind of a dick)
The night ride was lit only by the sickly orange glow of the dash, a random Mötley Crüe track blasting too loud through the cheap car speakers.
Adrian was humming along, head bobbing slightly out of rhythm as his gloved hands rested casually on the steering wheel.
The car glided smoothly down a darkened road, the faint buzz of crickets filtering in from outside.
Chris sat slouched in the passenger seat, half-listening to the music, brows furrowed in suspicion as Adrian made a sudden right turn.
The streetlights shifted, illuminating a neatly trimmed suburban neighborhood with two-story houses, mailboxes standing in straight lines, and American flags draped proudly on porches.
“Uh... hey,” Chris’s voice cut sharply through the music, obnoxiously loud.
He jabbed a finger toward the windshield.
“Why the fuck are we turning into a goddamn cul-de-sac? We’re supposed to be going after the fucking target, not taking a scenic fucking tour.”
Adrian just hummed louder, cheerful and unbothered.
“Oh, yeah, no, I just gotta grab something real quick," he slowed as they approached a row of identical houses, his voice sing-song and casual. “It's at my girlfriend’s place, then we can totally go do the whole mission-kill-thing.”
Chris blinked once.
Then twice.
His head turned slowly, eyes narrowing, the weight of what Adrian just said finally crashing down.
“…Wait, hold the fuck on,” he sat up straighter in his seat, almost whipping around to face him fully. “Girlfriend? What the fuck did you just say?”
Adrian frowned in confusion, still watching the road, “Uh… that I need to grab something from my girlfriend’s house?”
Chris froze, throwing both hands out like he was halting traffic.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, back the fuck up. You—” he jabbed a finger at Adrian’s chest, voice dripping with disbelief. “—have a girlfriend?”
“Uh, yeah?” Adrian answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ve had a girlfriend for, like, ten years. We live together sometimes. Well, not live-live, but I basically live there anyway. You know, toothbrush in the bathroom, drawer of my own, couple pairs of socks I keep around—”
Chris barked out a laugh, sharp and disbelieving, cutting him off.
"Bullshit. You? A girlfriend? No fucking way,” he scoffed, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe the audacity. “You’d have mentioned it, like, a million fucking times.”
“I do mention it,” Adrian protested, eyes widening as his voice pitched up, almost defensive. “I bring her up literally every chance I get. Like, every single time. And the only way you wouldn’t know that is if—”
He gasped dramatically.
“—you don’t listen to me when I talk!”
“Yeah, no, I don’t. Like, ever,” he shrugged, deadpan. “I tune you out constantly, dude. It’s like survival instinct at this point.”
Adrian’s shoulders slumped, the hurt in his voice almost childlike, “Who doesn’t listen to their best friend?"
"You make it impossible, man. Like ninety percent of what you say is random fucking babble about dumb shit I don’t care about,” Chris waved a dismissive hand as the car rolled into a driveway. “Girlfriend, my ass—”
The car came to a halt, engine ticking softly as Adrian shifted it into park.
The house was quiet, porch light glowing warmly against the siding.
Adrian unbuckled with his usual pep, popping the door open.
Chris followed him out, still shaking his head, “Do I even know who this imaginary chick is?”
Adrian puffed his chest proudly, slamming the driver-side door shut.
“Yeah! It’s (y/n). From high school,” he grinned, gesturing vaguely with his hands as they started toward the porch. “Y’know, total babe. Cute glasses. Even cuter braces. You remember.”
Chris stopped mid-step, his eyes going comically wide.
A beat later, laughter burst from his chest, loud and obnoxious, echoing across the quiet street.
He bent slightly at the waist, hands on his knees.
“No fucking way!” he howled, pointing at Adrian. “You’re dating Mush-Mouth (y/n)? With the trash compactor braces and the crazy fucking stutter? Oh my god, that’s fucking priceless.”
The laughter died in his throat.
In an instant, Adrian had lunged forward, shoving Chris hard against the siding of the house.
The clap of impact rattled the paneling.
Chris’s eyes bulged as Adrian’s forearm pressed firm across his chest, the cold muzzle of a pistol shoved up under his chin, aimed at his throat.
Adrian’s voice was no longer sing-song or sweet.
It dropped, low and dark, a rumble of lethal intent.
His brows furrowed, eyes blazing, shadowed in fury.
“Chris,” he said flatly, voice like stone. “You’re my BFF. My ride-or-die. But if you ever call her that again…” his finger twitched on the trigger. “…I’ll make you a stain on this wall, and I won’t even feel bad about it.”
The air went heavy.
Chris froze, hands instinctively raising in surrender, throat bobbing against the barrel.
His jaw tightened, a rare flicker of unease flashing across his face.
He had never seen Adrian like this—so serious, so angry.
The goofy sidekick veneer had slipped completely, and what stared back at him was something terrifyingly absolute.
“…Okay,” Chris muttered, nodding quickly. “Okay, fuck, fine. I won’t. Jesus.”
For a moment longer, Adrian held him there, gun steady, eyes sharp and unflinching.
Then, just as suddenly, the storm broke.
He stepped back, holstering the weapon with a cheery little flourish.
His body language snapped back into casual pep, his voice bright and chipper as though nothing had happened.
“Cool! Glad we cleared that up. C’mon, let’s go inside.”
Adrian skipped the last couple of steps up to the porch, whistling merrily to the tune of the Mötley Crüe song still ringing faintly from the car.
He pressed the doorbell with a happy bounce, shoulders relaxed, a picture of innocence.
Chris stood at the bottom of the steps, rubbing his throat where the muzzle had been, staring up at his friend with wide eyes.
For once in his life... Peacemaker was speechless.
Adrian waited a half-second, then tilted his head, tapping his chin.
“Oh, duh,” he muttered, fishing around in one of the many pouches strapped to his utility belt.
After a moment of rifling, he pulled out a shiny key, holding it up triumphantly.
“Almost forgot I had this!”
Chris’s eyes narrowed.
Adrian ignored him, slipping the key into the lock with careful precision.
The tumblers clicked, and he swung the door open with a little flourish.
He turned back, beckoning with a cheerful wave.
“C’mon, dude. Don’t just stand there looking all constipated. Let’s go!”
Chris lingered on the porch, wary expression plastered across his face as Adrian strolled in like he owned the place, “She didn’t even answer the door, man. Probably means she’s not here.”
“Uh, wrong,” Adrian countered without missing a beat, strolling casually into the living room. “I’ve memorized literally every single detail about her. Like, everything. Her schedule, her daily routine, her habits. Honestly, I usually know where she’s at and what she’s doing before she even does.”
Chris stopped dead in the doorway, blinking slowly.
“…Jesus Christ," he muttered under his breath, mentally adding a bullet point to the long list of Reasons Adrian Chase Is a Full-Blown Sociopath.
Note to self: maybe check in on this (y/n) chick every once in a while, just to make sure she wasn’t dead in a freezer somewhere.
Before he could spiral too far, a warm voice floated down the stairs.
“Adrian? That you, baby?”
Both men’s heads snapped toward the sound at once.
Light footsteps padded gently against the wood as you descended, towel-damp curls bouncing softly around your shoulders.
Chris braced himself instinctively, shoulders tight, ready for some hideous Ugly-Betty-adjacent apparition—coke-bottle glasses, headgear, zit cream, the whole fucking shebang.
But then you came into view.
And his jaw nearly unhinged.
You were a goddamn vision.
Skin dewy and luminous, rich brown glowing under the light.
Dark curls framed your face perfectly, your smile radiant, disarmingly warm.
No glasses, no braces, no acne—just beautiful.
Wrapped in a short black silk robe that clung to every perfect curve, the hem teasing at plush thighs, neckline plunging just enough to make Chris’s brain short-circuit.
Hips made to grab.
Breasts that looked criminally good.
You weren’t just hot.
You were sex incarnate.
A goddamn smoke show.
Chris’s brain reeled, appalled at the idea that Adrian fucking Chase got to come home to this every night.
That he got to fuck this.
Regularly.
Meanwhile, you were smiling sweetly as you crossed the room.
“Sorry, honey, I was in the shower,” you said, sliding your arms around Adrian’s neck and pulling him into a tight hug, rising to your tippy-toes.
Adrian melted instantly, arms locking tight around your waist as he lifted you off your feet like you weighed nothing.
“Missed you,” he breathed happily, muffled before crashing his mouth against yours in a deep, heated kiss.
Chris stood rooted to the spot, eyes bulging as the hem of your robe slipped higher from the movement, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of the curve of your lower ass cheek.
His heart practically seized.
Heat surged traitorously below his belt.
The words tumbled out before he could stop them.
“…Mush-Mouth (y/n)?”
You broke from the kiss slightly, blinking in surprise.
Adrian, however, froze like he’d just heard a war crime.
His body stiffened, his head whipping toward Chris.
In a blur, his gun was out again, aimed squarely at Chris’s face.
“What the fuck, dude?!” Adrian barked, his voice spiking with pure fury. “You promised!”
But before he could pull the trigger, your hand slid calmly to his forearm.
“Hun,” your tone was soft but firm, a balm against his fury. “Not necessary.”
Adrian froze mid-motion, chest heaving.
He glanced at you, then at Chris, then back at you again.
Slowly, reluctantly, his shoulders dropped.
With a muttered curse under his breath, he holstered the weapon once more.
His glare shot daggers at Chris, eyes promising that next time, no one would stop him.
Turning back to Chris, you sighed, folding your arms loosely across your chest.
Your voice was cool, even, but not without an edge.
“Yeah. That was me,” your lips curved faintly, like you were daring him to comment further. “I grew out of the stutter, as you can see.”
Chris could only stare, dumbstruck, trying and failing to reconcile the goddess in front of him with the memory of braces and awkward frumpiness from high school.
His mind was a full-blown hurricane of disbelief as he gawked, jaw working uselessly like he was trying to form words but couldn’t quite get his brain to compute.
“How the fuck—” he muttered, half to himself, half to the room.
His eyes cut back to Adrian, then to you again.
“—did you pull this off? You’re telling me you got this and she—”
He gestured wildly at your body, robe clinging, skin perfect.
“—turned into that?”
Adrian didn’t notice Chris’s existential crisis at all.
He was too busy nuzzling into your neck, basking in your affection like a golden retriever.
Chris squinted, still trying to connect the dots, “What about the crazy braces? And the coke-bottle glasses? Like, where the hell did those go?”
You rolled your eyes, cocking a hip with easy confidence, “The fun thing about braces, Chris, is that they come off. And contacts exist.”
Before he could retort, Adrian piped up, muffled into your shoulder, “Honestly, sometimes I miss them. They were cute.”
You turned to him, smiling fondly, “No, baby, they weren’t.”
Still, your voice carried warmth.
Chris blinked, still grasping, “So, wait, like… do you have contacts in right now? Or do you need your prescription refilled or some shit?”
Your brow arched sharply, “What exactly are you trying to imply?”
His gaze flicked over your body, then darted to Adrian, then back to you, then Adrian again—before finally landing squarely on you.
He threw his hands out in exasperation.
“I’m saying you’re gorgeous! Like actually gorgeous. Not in the ‘snowflake, you’re-gorgeous-on-the-inside’ bullshit way. Like, actually-fucking-gorgeous.”
Adrian immediately lit up, grinning like a fool as he slung an arm proudly around your waist and tugged you into his side, “Right!? She’s the hottest woman in the universe!”
You deadpanned, unimpressed, “I don’t take compliments from racists.”
Chris recoiled, “What the—fuck off, I’m not racist!”
Adrian chimed in helpfully, shrugging, “You do refuse to kill your racist dad, though.”
“That’s because he’s my dad, not because I’m, like, some kind of fellow racist,” Chris shot back, offended.
You tilted your head, lips curling with disbelief, “So you’re telling me your dad is, what, the Grand Dragon of a local faction of Nazis, and you don’t resonate with a single one of his beliefs?”
Chris shouted instantly, “NO!”
You scoffed, unconvinced, folding your arms.
“Fuck, man!” Chris groaned, throwing his arms in the air. “You told her I was racist?”
Adrian shrugged innocently, “I only told her your dad was racist.”
“Whatever!” Chris barked, wheeling back toward you. “Seriously, why out of all the fuck-nuts in the world did you pick this one?”
The atmosphere shifted, your irritation softening as you turned your face to Adrian.
A pause hung, tender, as you two locked eyes—your smile curling gently, lovestruck, his gaze utterly devoted.
“Because,” you said softly, “this fuck-nut has always loved me for who I was, not how I looked.”
Your hand brushed his jaw.
“He’s kind... he’s funny... he’s protective. He’s been cute since day one, and…” a sly grin tugged your lips. “…it doesn’t hurt that he’s got mind-blowing dick.”
Adrian’s chest puffed, eyes going glossy with emotion.
“Babe…” his voice cracked as he peppered your cheeks and temple with sweet, fluttering kisses.
Chris’s brows knit, face twisted in confusion, “Wait—really?”
You looked at him plainly, shameless, “Really. I haven’t used a vibrator in years.”
Adrian beamed with boyish pride, “Yeah, man. I'm her vibrator.”
Chris just stared, mouth open, gobsmacked.
Finally, he shook his head, muttering, “Jesus Christ…”
You ignored him, turning your attention back to Adrian, “What was it you needed, baby?”
“Oh, right!” Adrian perked up instantly, snapping his fingers. “I left something in your room.”
And without another word, he darted up the stairs, boots thudding quickly against the wood.
Silence hung between you and Chris.
His eyes stayed locked on you, hungry, predatory, like a lion sizing up a gazelle.
You rolled your eyes.
Another beat.
Then—
“…So, you and Vigilante ever… experiment?” Chris asked, voice low, sly.
“I don’t do threesomes with racists," you cut him off, flatly.
“I’M NOT A—!” Chris shouted, veins bulging.
But before he could finish, Adrian’s footsteps thundered back down the stairs.
“All good!” Adrian announced cheerfully, bounding toward the door. “Got everything. We can go kill the target now.”
Chris shot you a look, brow arched, “You’re cool with this?”
You shrugged, lips quirking sly, “Everybody has their hobbies. And worst-case scenario, I’m a criminal defense attorney.”
Adrian puffed up proudly, “She’s amazing. She’s making partner soon!”
You smirked at Chris, tilting your head condescendingly, “It’s a wonder what studying and actually paying attention in class can do for you in the long run.”
Chris blinked, then looked down at himself in quiet defeat.
You escorted them to the door.
As Chris trudged down the walkway toward the Sebring, Adrian lingered on the porch, turning back to you with a soft smile.
“Bye, babe,” he murmured.
You cupped his masked face tenderly, “Be careful. Remember, the hospital has me on speed dial.”
“I will,” he promised, melting into your touch.
Then your lips curled into a devilish, seductive smirk.
Your hands slid slowly down his face to his chest, nails teasing through his suit, “And if you’re up for it… we could have a little fun later tonight.”
His cheeks pinked, but his eyes darkened, smirk tugging, “Don’t go to sleep.”
“I won’t,” you breathed.
Then his lips crashed into yours, rough and urgent.
He pinned you firmly against the door, bodies flush, heat sparking instantly.
His hands grasped at your waist, your hips, pulling you closer as your robe slipped higher.
Your fingers fisted into his hair, tugging hard as you whimpered softly into his mouth.
The kiss deepened, hungry, wet, teeth clashing slightly.
He groaned low in his chest, pressing harder, devouring you like he couldn’t get enough.
Chris groaned audibly, throwing his hands in the air, “OH MY FUCKING GOD, we have a target to kill!”
Adrian didn’t even look back.
He held one finger out behind him, still lip-locked with you, tongues tangling.
Finally, he pulled away with a flourish, leaving you gasping, lips swollen and wet.
With a lovesick smile, you reached up to fix his glasses, straightening them delicately.
He rewarded you with a tender kiss to your forehead before spinning toward the car.
“Alright, man,” he chirped happily as he jogged down the steps. “Let’s go kill some bad guys.”
Chris just glared, grumbling bitterly under his breath as he yanked open the driver’s side door.
Adrian slipped easily into the passenger side, still humming with joy.
The Sebring’s engine roared to life, and with one last bitter glance back at you on the porch, Chris pulled out of the driveway, tires crunching over the pavement as they drove off into the night.
.
.
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BONUS !!
The Sebring hummed along the cracked two-lane road, headlights slicing through the dark as pine trees blurred by on either side.
Chris had both hands strangling the steering wheel, his jaw tight, eyes set forward.
Every once in a while, his lips twitched like he wanted to say something, but he’d just grumble under his breath instead, the words lost under the hum of the engine.
Adrian, meanwhile, sat in the passenger seat like a kid who just got a gold star on a spelling test.
His mask was in his lap, but that smile—broad, goofy, almost lovesick—never left his face.
He was still buzzing with the feel of your lips on his, your scent clinging to his suit, your hands dragging down his chest.
His heart was doing little flips.
He looked out the window, then back at Chris, then down at the velvet box in his pocket, and back out the window again.
He couldn’t stop.
His whole body felt light.
“She’s amazing, right?” Adrian finally said, voice breaking the silence.
He turned, smile soft, his whole face lit up.
Chris let out a scoff so sharp it might as well have been a knife.
“She’s a fuckin’ piece of work,” he grumbled, eyes locked on the road, jaw flexing.
Adrian just kept smiling, undeterred.
He tilted his head, the joy in his tone too genuine to be touched.
There was another beat of silence before Chris blurted, “You guys really have… mind-blowing sex?”
His voice cracked a little at the end, like he couldn’t believe he was asking.
“Yup,” Adrian said without hesitation, completely casual. “She’s the best I’ve ever had. Only I've ever had. Being inside her is like—” he let out a dreamy sigh, “heaven on Earth.”
Chris’s grip on the wheel slipped for a second, the Sebring swerving half a foot before he jerked it back, “What the fuck?”
Adrian leaned back, eyes going distant as if replaying a reel only he could see.
“One time, we went at it for five hours straight. No stopping. And I swear—” he leaned forward, hand gesturing animatedly—“right before I came, I think I saw another dimension. Like… the curtain lifted, you know? Beyond space and time.”
Chris’s eyes went wide, “Jesus Christ.”
Adrian just nodded happily, sinking back into the seat with a sigh.
There was a long silence before Chris coughed into his fist.
“So… are you guys, like, open to experimenting?”
Adrian turned his head, brow furrowing behind his glasses.
He'd heard his so-called BFF proposition you back at the house, but let it slide as you immediately shut it down.
He didn't think the asshole would try again.
“You ever ask my girlfriend for a threesome again, I will cut your dick off and feed it to you. Okay?” he threatened, voice sharp and cutting.
The smile stayed.
The threat was very real.
Chris stiffened, “Jesus, alright! Defensive much? Just asking.”
He shifted uncomfortably, then scrambled for a new subject.
“So, uh, what the hell did you even need from her place anyway?”
That grin spread across Adrian’s face again as he reached into his utility belt.
He fished out a small black velvet box and held it up with a flourish.
Chris’s eyes locked on it, his shoulders dropping, “No fucking way..."
“Yes way!” Adrian beamed, flipping the lid open to reveal a diamond that looked like it belonged in a music video.
The thing sparkled like it had its own light source.
“You like it? Been saving since freshman year.”
Chris’s jaw went slack.
“No fucking way!” he repeated, louder this time.
“Uh-huh!” Adrian chirped, holding the box up proudly.
“Wait, wait, wait—” Chris pointed at him like he was calling bullshit. “You’re telling me… you come home every night to a smokin’-hot, sexy-as-fuck lawyer babe who actually likes you, who bangs your brains out on the regular, and you haven’t wifed her up yet?"
He scoffs.
"Dude, high school was thirteen years ago!”
Adrian winced, groaning as he slumped back in his seat, “I know, okay? I know. I wanted to marry her right after graduation, but her parents would’ve freaked out. And I needed a ring. Like… a real ring.”
Chris narrowed his eyes, “How long have you had that thing?”
Adrian’s voice was sheepish, almost boyish.
“...Eight years.”
Chris slammed his hand against the steering wheel, “EIGHT FUCKING YEARS?!”
Adrian groaned again, clutching his head, “I’m waiting for the right moment!”
“There is no right moment, dipshit!” Chris shouted, face red. “Do it soon before somebody else swoops in and steals her!”
Adrian tilted his head, genuinely confused.
Then he chuckled.
“What, like you?”
Chris looked wounded, “It’s entirely possible!”
Adrian shook his head firmly, “Absolutely not. She hates your guts.”
Chris gasped, clutching his chest.
“Wait... really?”
“Uh, yeah,” Adrian said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Chris sat there, lips pressed in a pout, but before he could argue, the Sebring rolled to a slow stop.
Adrian perked up, box still in hand.
“We’re here!” he announced brightly, popping open the passenger door and stepping out with a bounce in his step.
He shut the door behind him, practically humming with joy.
Chris stayed in the car for a second, glaring down at the wheel.
“Un-fucking-believable,” he muttered before finally shoving his own door open.
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