AWWWWWWWWWWWWW~~~~~~~~~~~

time left to be lazy

pairing: adrian chase x reader (gn pronouns)

rating: gen

word count: 1,359

one-sentence synopsis: you share a quiet, soft moment with adrian and your daughter as a family.

author's note: there's no prompt or request or plot or anything here!!!! i just constantly die at the thought of adrian with a baby and i simply cannot find enough fics about it so i wrote this on my phone impulsively tonight!!!!! be the fic you wish to see in the world!!!!!!!!!

>>> read on ao3! <<<

You get home from work earlier than you were expecting to. It was slow, and your supervisor knows you'd much rather be home, so she let you go early. You'd been so excited, flying practically all the way home.

Pushing in the front door, you know better than to call out for Adrian. You'd seen his car outside; you know he's still home. There still aren't that many places he could be, right now. Anyway, he probably would've told you if he went anywhere, and he hasn't messaged you in a little while.

You close the front door quietly behind yourself. You whisper, "Hello?" but you don't get a response.

Creeping further into your home, you find the lights are all off. It's late afternoon, and the sun is still up, but all the curtains are closed. As you sneak towards the living room, you find one single curtain open, letting in a streak of golden sunlight.

In that beam of gold, you find Adrian sprawled on his back on the couch, bare-chested, ankles crossed, silent. He's not asleep, but he's not very aware, either. Most of his attention is drowsily focused forward.

You smile, finding him there. His glasses are at the end of his nose, green eyes brightly focused on the infant sleeping on his chest. She's spread on her belly, cheek pressed over his heart; you know she must be listening to his heartbeat, that he must have put her there purposefully. The sound and feel of it always calm her down when she's restless. His fingertips are trailing absently up and down the tiny length of her back. She rises and falls just slightly with the movements of his chest as he breathes in time with her. Her own fingers are curled up in his other hand, close to her face, wrapped around two of his fingers, her thumb stroking her round cheek in slow sweeps.

Your heart is swelling up inside your chest just looking at the two of them. Even as you watch now, Adrian lets the edge of his thumb drift upwards, pushing aside a tiny curl of dark hair from her face. Her eyes are closed in sleep, lips parted as she breathes.

As you step forward, moving slowly, quietly, Adrian traces down to tap the tip of her nose, then resumes stroking her cheek.

"Love you," he murmurs to her. "I wish I could read your mind. You're probably thinking something really cool. Like— Your dreams must be crazy. You don't know pretty much anything. That must be, like, so, so awesome." He smiles slightly down at her. "Just like you."

The soft rumble of his voice doesn't disturb her. If anything, she's more settled for hearing it. That's not a surprise to you; she's heard his voice her entire life. It must be familiar to her, comforting, just like it is to you. You smile just for thinking it.

It's then that Adrian sees you. His eyes shift slightly, focusing on you, and his smile widens. Quietly, he says, "Hey! You're home early."

You can't stop smiling. You draw closer, kneeling down at his side.

"Yeah," you whisper. "They let me out early."

He tilts his chin upwards, and you lean in, accepting the kiss he presses to the corner of your mouth. He moves so carefully that he doesn't dislodge her. His head tilts, just slightly, and you meet in a proper kiss, both your eyes closing. You sigh softly, and you feel him smile into the kiss.

When you separate, you watch his eyes flutter open, eyelashes drifting up until he meets you again, grinning. He kisses at you through the air.

"Wanna lay down with us?" he asks you quietly.

You evaluate them, trying to figure out how you can get in here without disturbing them. As if he understands without you needing to speak the words, Adrian shuffles slightly towards the edge of the sofa, creating the perfect gap for you to fit in, in between him and the back of the couch. You pry your shoes off, climbing gingerly over him to tuck yourself in there.

Adrian shuffles a bit, gets his arm around you so he can pull you into his side. He kisses your temple, smiling as he readjust you both. Once you both slot into place, you rest your cheek on his shoulder, tilting to look down at your daughter where she still continues to sleep on his chest. She hasn't been disturbed at all, his hand holding her steadily in place over his heart until you're all settled again. You reach up to sweep the same wayward lock of hair away from her face that Adrian had tucked back. Her hair is so much like his, wild and dark, impossible to tame, especially while she's this young, only a few weeks old.

"Hi," you whisper to her. You reach to lay your hand over his where his fingers have stretched over her back, locking into place between them. "How was your day?"

"Oh, we did so much today already, didn't we?" Adrian answers for both himself and her. "What'd we do, let's see, we had breakfast, and we trained a little, and we took a bath—"

"Sorry," you interrupt him, "What was that?"

"I gave her a bath in the sink in that sling thing," he tells you.

"No," you say, "before that."

Adrian's grinning when he says, "She's pretty much the perfect weight for me to sling on my chest while I'm doing pull-ups—"

"Adrian," you laugh, keeping the sound as soft as you can. Just the image of that is strikingly amusing.

"She liked it!" he insists. "She even kind of smiled, I swear. I think she thinks it's cool."

You can't help grinning, too. Leaning against his chest again so you can watch her sleep, you agree, "I bet she does. She's your kid, after all."

Under your ear— and hers, you realize, which makes you smile all over again— Adrian's heart skips, speeding a little faster. It's still new, or new enough, having her here. When he remembers again, thinking coherently about her, and everything she is— the fact that she's your child, and his, and yours and his together, he just— he keeps getting overwhelmed. He still sometimes can't even believe she exists, and every time he looks at her again, he's overjoyed all over, absolutely in love with her.

"Yeah," he replies. "She is." He kisses the top of your head. "And yours."

"Probably why she likes you so much," you tell him, teasingly. "Just like me."

He smiles so deeply genuinely, such obvious delight, so honest joy in response to the silly things you say. He gives you another kiss before you both look down at her, watching as she yawns in her sleep, tiny body stretching out momentarily before she curls back up around his hand. Your hand locked with Adrian's other over her back keep her in place until she's settled again.

"There we go," Adrian murmurs nonsensically, just soft, low mumbling. "Aw, hey, there you go. Nice and comfy. Getting all relaxed, aren't you? Hey," he comments to you, "imagine someone, like— as proportionally big to us as we are to her holding us like this. Wouldn't that be crazy?"

You huff a laugh, nuzzling in closer to him. Your fingertips stroke the soft hair at the nape of her neck, curling lightly around. "Yes, that would scare the shit outta me, probably."

"Not if they love you as much as we love her," Adrian points out. You smile, at that, kissing his warm, bare skin where you can reach it under your mouth.

"You're right," you say. "I love you so much."

You're telling both of them, him and her, the loves of your life. Melting into them, yawning yourself, you fit yourself perfectly in with them again.

"Love you more," he tells you both, too. He keeps stroking her cheek, fingertips brushing yours, as she keeps sleeping and you get closer to it, trusting him to stay awake and keep the both of you safe while you rest.

-

adrian chase taglist:

@deputyrook @bb-skyrunner @himboelover @pieriinova @gcldtom @violetrainbow412-blog @amysuemc @saturnngal @neptuneswritingwork @jewishdelis @myguiltypleasures21 @pinkygunslingy @chaseadrian @breathing-in-waves @rishlurh @goblynnrockz @theowritesstuff @themartiansdaughter @dallasvakarian @missscarlettangel @samantha24015 @hillaryroadheadcllinton @ohmybubbletea @buckys-estrella @witchywcmans @ladyrebel25 @eviejune @vigilantesluvr @qjuiq-odakyu @xothatnerdykid @awkwardfangirl2014 @thevalkyrior @mattsmanpain @sunflowerfive @deirdre-belle @anthonyedwinstark @sexysquatch @jelliebeanss @zofps @crimscnrains @trans-librarian @nellethiel-aranel @probablyasatanworshipper @phoenixhalliwell @perseajohnson @eeveeangelcakes @freyafriggafrey @psychadelictoadie @middimidoris @gaygonegirl @peacemakernet @herbsschmerbs @satansrighthandmanchild @seeking-a-great--perhaps @ev-june @bvcksmurdock @staticspouse @acupnoodle

Star Wars OC : Lexi Tamzin, human-zeltron thief and informant, living on Coruscant and temporary cooperate with Jango Fett 😈♀️🌆

Warnings: Kissing, flirting, sexual innuendos, humor, blowjobs, male receiving oral. Smut / fluff / mildly dubious consent but not really? Dry-humping, self-esteem issues, self-degradation, self-doubt, mild feelings of worthlessness and slight depression.

Word count: 4.8k+

Summary: Shriv Suurgav is overworked - he sits alone, or tries to, in his office. You’ve come to bother him, or better yet, help him find a way to relieve his stress. This “Duros under duress” must relax.

Notes: I write Shriv Suurgav entirely different from the way I write Cad Bane, so be prepared for a more “ stream of consciousness” type style. I love getting inside this neurotic Duros’ head. Inspired by me eating a lollipop on the way home from work. “A blowjob a day keeps the melancholy away.” - @amiquinn99​ 

Half a parsec. No. Maybe a whole parsec.

Two parsecs?

Perhaps a parsec was not the right unit of measurement to use in this situation, but Shriv absolutely felt that was how far away he was from finishing this list of menial tasks that was supposed to get done by the end of the day.

It was too much for just one day. Or any day. It was never ending; just a nearly insurmountable heap of red tape and bureaucracy, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Well, almost nothing.

He supposed he could launch himself out of an airlock, but death might be just a little bit worse than having to answer to Lando about this one particular report that was due two standard hours from now.

Who was keeping track of this stuff, anyway? Would they know if he hadn’t submitted it on time? Was Lando really that interested in learning about the finer points of the Pathfinder’s last ground assault? The fact the 61st mobile infantry had lost so many soldiers on Haidoral Prime that they were organizing a recruitment event to try and persuade locals to join their cause?

Not to mention the dangers of Imperial espionage – you never knew who was going to show up to these things. That’s why he stayed away from them. He was too skeptical – they said he would only hinder the process. It was fine by Shriv. He had better things to do.

Let them deal with the repercussions. They couldn’t say he hadn’t warned them.

Of course, the stress of those better things alone was enough to give anyone a stroke; but Shriv did what he did best in these scenarios: he sucked it up. Only today it wasn’t going so well. He had too much on his mind.

When did he not have too much on his mind?

Shriv couldn’t remember the last time his head was absent of thought, negative or otherwise, though negative seemed to be predominant. For a moment, Shriv felt like he had forgotten what it was like to relax, and that made him frown to himself because no one else was around to see it.

He was thankful no one else was around to see it.

For one, they might ask questions, and two, he wasn’t in the mood to explain his… mood.

He tried keeping up appearances with the cadets. They already thought he was a curmudgeon. They called him a killjoy behind his back.

He had heard about it second hand from Luke – he wanted Shriv to be nicer to the new blood, as he called them. He said he came off as “scary” and “mean,” and that he should be trying to instill a sense of camaraderie, giving inspirational speeches, not the opposite.

Shriv wasn’t trying to instill anything. He was just telling it like it is. If they couldn’t handle his authenticity, well …

Sooo sorry I don’t find fighting wars and nearly dying everyday to be the pinnacle of excitement. I apologize for warning them about the risks and dangers involved in going up against an evil, despotic Empire who rather kill them than use them as slave labor just for wearing this damn uniform.

That was what he had wanted to say. Instead, he said: “Yeah, sure, OK.”

Then he had coughed on purpose, followed by a terse: “Commander.”

The terseness had also been on purpose.

Oh, but Shriv wasn’t considered to be his equal even though he was not only a member of the Special Forces, but a Commander in the Alliance Navy, a Marksman, and a damn good pilot.

Far from it.

Luke Skywalker was a Jedi with magical force wieldy powers that could make people smack into walls, or he could slice them in half with his glowy laser sword-thing.

He won medals and made girls smile.

Shriv only made girls give disgusted faces.

He supposed he should be thankful he was on their side, not annoyed one bit that he had told him how to do his job he had been doing since before Luke had even bothered to show up.

Yeah, OK, so he had blown up a Death Star.

Even Shriv had to admit that was impressive, but he didn’t want to.

Besides, he had help, but everyone seemed to forget that little tidbit of information.

Han Solo didn’t forget that tidbit of information.

In fact, he talked about it daily.

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Here’s a lighthearted one-shot featuring my OC Estelle Carter with Harley Quinn and Adrian Chase. The main pairing is Harley/Estelle but with a dash of suggestion that eventually they’ll be a Harley/Estelle/Adrian pairing. 

adrian chases transition lenses

fingers and toes crossed this hasnt been done before

[please reblog if you like it]

[buy me a coffee!]

A very happy Tech Tuesday to you all! In honor of the S2 trailer, here’s Tech with his new armor!

Warnings: Kissing, flirting, sexual innuendos, humor, blowjobs, male receiving oral. Smut / fluff / mildly dubious consent but not really? Dry-humping, self-esteem issues, self-degradation, self-doubt, mild feelings of worthlessness and slight depression.

Word count: 4.8k+

Summary: Shriv Suurgav is overworked - he sits alone, or tries to, in his office. You’ve come to bother him, or better yet, help him find a way to relieve his stress. This “Duros under duress” must relax.

Notes: I write Shriv Suurgav entirely different from the way I write Cad Bane, so be prepared for a more “ stream of consciousness” type style. I love getting inside this neurotic Duros’ head. Inspired by me eating a lollipop on the way home from work. “A blowjob a day keeps the melancholy away.” - @amiquinn99​ 

Half a parsec. No. Maybe a whole parsec.

Two parsecs?

Perhaps a parsec was not the right unit of measurement to use in this situation, but Shriv absolutely felt that was how far away he was from finishing this list of menial tasks that was supposed to get done by the end of the day.

It was too much for just one day. Or any day. It was never ending; just a nearly insurmountable heap of red tape and bureaucracy, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Well, almost nothing.

He supposed he could launch himself out of an airlock, but death might be just a little bit worse than having to answer to Lando about this one particular report that was due two standard hours from now.

Who was keeping track of this stuff, anyway? Would they know if he hadn’t submitted it on time? Was Lando really that interested in learning about the finer points of the Pathfinder’s last ground assault? The fact the 61st mobile infantry had lost so many soldiers on Haidoral Prime that they were organizing a recruitment event to try and persuade locals to join their cause?

Not to mention the dangers of Imperial espionage – you never knew who was going to show up to these things. That’s why he stayed away from them. He was too skeptical – they said he would only hinder the process. It was fine by Shriv. He had better things to do.

Let them deal with the repercussions. They couldn’t say he hadn’t warned them.

Of course, the stress of those better things alone was enough to give anyone a stroke; but Shriv did what he did best in these scenarios: he sucked it up. Only today it wasn’t going so well. He had too much on his mind.

When did he not have too much on his mind?

Shriv couldn’t remember the last time his head was absent of thought, negative or otherwise, though negative seemed to be predominant. For a moment, Shriv felt like he had forgotten what it was like to relax, and that made him frown to himself because no one else was around to see it.

He was thankful no one else was around to see it.

For one, they might ask questions, and two, he wasn’t in the mood to explain his… mood.

He tried keeping up appearances with the cadets. They already thought he was a curmudgeon. They called him a killjoy behind his back.

He had heard about it second hand from Luke – he wanted Shriv to be nicer to the new blood, as he called them. He said he came off as “scary” and “mean,” and that he should be trying to instill a sense of camaraderie, giving inspirational speeches, not the opposite.

Shriv wasn’t trying to instill anything. He was just telling it like it is. If they couldn’t handle his authenticity, well …

Sooo sorry I don’t find fighting wars and nearly dying everyday to be the pinnacle of excitement. I apologize for warning them about the risks and dangers involved in going up against an evil, despotic Empire who rather kill them than use them as slave labor just for wearing this damn uniform.

That was what he had wanted to say. Instead, he said: “Yeah, sure, OK.”

Then he had coughed on purpose, followed by a terse: “Commander.”

The terseness had also been on purpose.

Oh, but Shriv wasn’t considered to be his equal even though he was not only a member of the Special Forces, but a Commander in the Alliance Navy, a Marksman, and a damn good pilot.

Far from it.

Luke Skywalker was a Jedi with magical force wieldy powers that could make people smack into walls, or he could slice them in half with his glowy laser sword-thing.

He won medals and made girls smile.

Shriv only made girls give disgusted faces.

He supposed he should be thankful he was on their side, not annoyed one bit that he had told him how to do his job he had been doing since before Luke had even bothered to show up.

Yeah, OK, so he had blown up a Death Star.

Even Shriv had to admit that was impressive, but he didn’t want to.

Besides, he had help, but everyone seemed to forget that little tidbit of information.

Han Solo didn’t forget that tidbit of information.

In fact, he talked about it daily.

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because I can~