#Wire Straightening Cutting

[firstroseofspring]

exploring klingon ridge variation!

[icannotgetoverbirds]

I'M FREE BITCHES

PERMANENT RETAINERS BEGONE

[perilegs]

can someone come and wire four rj45 plugs for me real quick. please. this is a call for help

[enwoso]

RUMOUR HAS IT — alessia russo x leah williamson x child!reader

couldn't not write this blurb icl-

grumpy masterlist

you were running after winnie down the corridor, the brown lab with her squeaky toy clasped in her mouth as she ran in front of you, a game of chase the two of you did regularly. but you always had to be careful you didn't run too fast in case you hurt yourself — mummy's orders!

"win slow down!" you giggled as you ran a little more, your lungs beginning to gasp for air as your legs slowed. "who's winning chase?" a voice said further down the long stretch of the corridor, winnie having stopped a little bit in front of you.

you looking up and seeing beth with her signature grin on her face as she happily walked down the corridor, winnie meeting her halfway as she begins to pet the brown lab. win rolling on her back in order to get her belly rubs.

you walk the short distance as you caught your breath back to join in on the affection, as you hugged beth’s leg in a form of greeting. noticing as beth leans slightly over you to tickle win's tummy a ring on her finger which you hadn't seen before.

"when did you get that?" that asked pointing to the ring as beth straightened up looking at her hand you'd just pointed at.

"get what? this ring?" beth asked as she pointed to the small glittery ring which was on her finger, a very pretty ring in your mind, as you nodded curious as to where it had came from.

"it's a promise ring" beth explained as you looked at her a little strangely not understanding the concept of a promise ring. your brain filled with little questions very quickly, what did the ring promise?

beth sensing your confusion as you looked at her with a  puzzled look, a small smile appearing as beth continued. "my vivvy got me it as a way to show that she promises to always love me even though we don't see each other as often anymore"

a small hum came from you as you sort of understood but still didn't really understand why beth needed a ring to know that but you let that thought pass, "mummy has a promise ring like that, le got her it!"

"does she now?" beth asked her eyebrows raising at the new information on her teammate, "and whose le?" beth added, not hearing the name before as you gave flashed her a dumbfounded look.

"you know le!" you giggled thinking beth was just joking with you and pretending not to know who leah was, but instead it was beth's turn to look puzzled.

"i do?" beth said as she tried to think of who went by the name of le.

"yes! leah one?" you stated like it was the most obvious thing on earth, and it kind of was.

“mhm, yeah but why is leah getting your mummy a promise ring?” beth questioned as you shrugged slightly before perking up with an answer.

“cause there special friends!” you smiled as beth opened her mouth to ask what a special friend was before you cut her off, “like you and viv!”

beth hummed realising now that a special friend was a girlfriend. “is that so”

you nodded a you watched winnie begin to get up and stretch before flopping back down near you as you started to stroke her again.

“is viv coming back this weekend?” you asked totally changing the topic as beth’s mind was still wiring with questions about the new romance of your mummy and leah.

“oh i’m not sure tiny, but when’s she back down i’ll make sure we stop for a visit so you can see her” beth ruffled your hair as you sat on the ground with win as you whispered out a small yay.

beth quickly leaving you to carry on your game with winnie as she skipped down the corridor with her new and found information, wondering how true it was. so who better to ask than either alessia or leah themselves which ever one she saw first.

but what you didn't know as beth skipped off down the corridor is that you had just blurted your mummy's relationship out to the team blabber mouth.

-

after finding out her recent news, beth wanted confirmation before she had the chance to spread it. wanting more of a fact check. beth skipping into the canteen where alessia was sat, headphones on laptop out coupled with a coffee as she typed away more than likely doing some sort of work to finish off her degree.

beth slotting down in a chair opposite with a big grin plastered on her face, as alessia looked up a blank expression on her face as she read beth's, having a feeling she wasn't going to like the conversation with the devilish look that beth had.

lifting her coffee to her mouth as she took a slip waiting for beth to start whatever she had to say.

"so miss russo, rumour has it you have a special friend in the form of a blonde defender who's name starts with l- and ends in -eah” beth grinned skipping the whole small talk thing and getting to the point as alessia's face dropped as she begins to cough.

"less? woah are you okay?" beth asks concerned momentarily filling her as she watches, alessia holding her hand up to give her self a minute as she catches her breath again after choking on her coffee from the abruptness of beth's statement.

"and where did you hear this rumour?" alessia questions having a few ideas in mind but one name stood out a little more than the others.

"oh just a certain someone" beth mumbled as alessia eye brows rose, her suspicions rising about who had slipped the information to beth being confirmed just from the fact that beth would say the name.

"lovie?" alessia blankly said as beth immediately began to shake her head rattle out an excuse as she began to back peddle.

“what- no? i didn’t even know she was here! i- i haven’t even see her?” beth lied as a small chuckle came from alessia as she lowered the screen of her laptop, alessia knowing otherwise.

“beth. you know she’s here. i’ve seen you running around with her and win” alessia smiled as beth sighed sinking back into her seat.

“ah- so maybe i have seen her but i never said i’d spoken to her!” beth smugly smiled as she thought she’d fooled alessia with her smart response but the look alessia was giving the winger said different. alessia knew that you must have let it slip about her and leah as you were the only one that knew apart form leah.

“ok ok, you got me! tiny may have let it slip that you had a special friend” beth sulked a little her mission of trying to be slick had failed — miserably at that. alessia shaking her head slightly at beth’s attempts.

“so is it true?” beth blurted out as alessia looked on a little strange forgetting totally what the forefront of the conversation actually was.

“what?”

“you and leah?” beth asked as alessia hummed nodding a little grin appearing on her face at the mention of her lover. as beth threw a few teasing comments.

“please don’t mention it to the others yet, we’re keeping it on the low for now” alessia quickly slipped in as before she started telling beth the in and outs that she would more than likely ask about anyway even if alessia didn’t tell her.

“less, don’t worry i’m brilliant at keeping secrets!” beth assured with a cute smile as she held alessia’s hands in hers as she made her comment. secrets and beth didn’t go very well together..

-

alessia was packing up her bag for the day, vic having already took the blondes car keys and you to the car but alessia knew she would no doubt find you and vic playing some sort of game in the car park but with the two of you out the way it would give the alessia a few minutes of peace.. she thought.

until she felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist, alessia immediately knowing who it was as there was only one person who wrapped their arms around her waist and smelt the way leah did.

alessia sinking into her touch as leah peppered a few kisses to alessia’s neck, a small sigh coming from her as leah did so before she placed her head on alessia’s shoulder.

“oh love, before you go why did i have katie asking if me and you were in a relationship” leah whispered as a loud groan came from alessia.

“wait till i get my hands on beth-“ alessia grumbled as a small chuckle came from leah at alessia’s sudden threat.

“i’m lost, what does beth have to do with this?” leah asked taking her hands from around alessia’s waist and sitting on the bench where alessia’s things were sprawled out, most of it admittingly being yours.

“beth was asking about us this morning as lovie let it slip this morning about us being ‘special friends’ and beth promised me she would tell anyone” alessia explained as a loud laugh came from leah as alessia twisted a face at her girlfriend.

“wow, she kept that secret for a while!” leah joked as alessia hummed her eyes widening. “didn’t she!”

“no like she did, i’m surprised it’s taken four hours to do its rounds!” leah said seriously as a small nod of the head and giggle came from alessia as she’d finished packing up.

“well i better go and see what the two children are doing in my car!” alessia smiled as leah was now the one to look at alessia with a strange look.

“two children? i thought you only had one?”

“that was a joke le- lovie and vic are waiting in my car” alessia cleared up the confusion as it dawned on leah. alessia pecking her on the lips before leah waved her goodbye, telling her other half that she’d meet her at home a little later on.

[annievrse]

joyride

chuuya x fem!reader —ᡣ𐭩 fic summary: you and chuuya go for a drive w/c: 1.2k c/w: suggestive [mdni], reader gets called wife & good girl heh a/n: obvi inspired by kesha's joyride

“We're going for a drive.”

Chuuya gives you no room to decline as he unlocks the car Mori provided for the mission and slides into the driver's seat. You stand staring at the red car. Of course, it's red. A red Ferrari, at that. You roll your eyes at the unsubtly and open the passenger's door.

The mission was tough, and you assume Chuuya needs to drive the anger out of his system. Usually, you wouldn't encourage such destructive behaviour, but you can't help the giddy feeling rising in your chest when your boyfriend drives.

The 812 purrs to life, and Chuuya grips the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turn white. He'd slid his coat and gloves off before you got in, sitting in his crisp white dress shirt. You inhale deeply, reaching over to slip his hat off his head. Orange locks fall free and frame his face. You place the hat in your lap and thread your fingers through his hair. Chuuya says nothing, but you know he appreciates the affection.

As industrial streets slimmed into the flat countryside, paddocks stretched like a midnight quilt stitched together with wire fences. The moon provides little light behind the clouds as the road fades into the night, and the reflective broken lines fly by in flashes. Driving on country roads at this speed is stupid and dangerous, but you feel like you are flying; it is almost freeing. Besides, when Chuuya drives, you feel at ease. You trust him more than yourself, especially with the addition of Upon the Tainted Sorrow.

The car is warm despite the cool air conditioning, and you squirm in your seat. Chuuya accelerates when he passes the final car on the stretch of the road. Natural gravity forces you back into your chair, your stomach rolling with adrenaline and fear. You can't look over at Chuuya, so you stare straight ahead with a smile etched on your cheeks. 

You are hyperaware of Chuuya's movements. He changes gears fluidly and turns corners smoothly; you can't help but admire his handiwork. You glance at the odometer, reading 160 on the dial, and your stomach lurches. Silhouettes of trees pass like ghosts, and your hands sweat where they rest on his hat. You were never good with being in fast cars, but having a boyfriend and a best friend who loves being behind the wheel was something you had to digest quickly. 

“You good?” Chuuya's breathless voice cuts through the thick air. Your head turns toward him. You try not to speak while he drives this fast, 125mph. Instead, you nod.

“Use your words, I can’t look at you.” His eyes remain on the dark road. You tongue the inside of your cheek, a smirk on your mouth.

“Yeah, I’m okay," You sigh. Your stomach churns as the road curves, and your hands are firm on your legs. 

Chuuya shakes his head and paws at your thigh quickly before he places it back on the gear stick. Goosebumps rise on your skin, and you look over at him. He's so devilishly handsome that you feel you may sin if you dare to look at him, even after all this time. Strands of red hair fall lazily over his forehead and blow softly in the air conditioning.

As Chuuya turns a corner faster than recommended, you quickly lift his hat and fit it over your head.

"You're gonna kill me," Chuuya mumbles, sparing a glance in your direction. His cheeks are rosy, even in the midnight light. Your eyes flicker to his full and pouty lips, the shade of rich wine, and then to his lean biceps strained against his white dress shirt as he straightens his arms to stretch out. "Definitely gonna be my wife."

Your face feels like fire at his muttered words, and you whine in response. "Stop teasing."

"You stop teasing," Chuuya mutters. "Makin' me hard."

Your skin gets impossibly hotter. "You're crazy."

He scoffs and turns his head to look at you. The car is flying down the road, and you pretend to ignore the red aura of his ability around the vehicle. You meet his gaze, turning your whole body toward him.

"And whose fault's that?"

You shrug. "Dazai."

Chuuya chokes on a surprised laugh, and you smile when he turns his attention back to the road, disgust making his lip curl.

"Don't speak about him when I just told you I'm hard."

Your eyes flicker to the strained fabric of his black slacks.

"I'm not giving you head when you're going 200mph."

Chuuya rolls his eyes and uses his right hand to fix his crotch. You cover your laugh with your hand and turn to look out the window.

“Home?” Chuuya asks, his voice laced with desperation. The car should be going slower since you entered residential streets, but due to his predicament, you guess he doesn't care.

"Yep."

“Okay," He swallows, running a red light. "We're sleeping in my bed tonight."

You laugh and take his hand when it returns to your lower thigh. “I want the left side.” 

The car finally lurches to a stop at a red traffic light, and Chuuya gives you an incredulous look. “No fucking way, that’s my side. You know that.”

If you hadn't shifted the tone of the conversation, you doubt you'd be sitting at this light. You shrug and place his hand on the gear stick. “Guess I'm sleeping in my bed, then."

You see him roll his eyes in your peripheral as you stare at the traffic light impatiently. Chuuya sighs dramatically, and when you glance over, you see him torn between pouting and glaring. But you remain impartial, nodding forward once when the light turns green. 

“You’re so…” Chuuya trails off, shaking his head and putting his foot down. A ghost of a smile plays on his lips.

“Careful,” You warn playfully, and he shoots you a dark look as the silence thickens with tension. 

“You’re so pretty it hurts, darling,” He clutches his chest. "Especially with my hat on."

You laugh, tipping the brim. "It definitely looks better on you. I don't think it suits me."

Chuuya's expression morphs into a scowl. "Shut the fuck up, or I'll make you."

"Chuuya!" You giggle, reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear.

"Don't piss me off with that shit talk, alright?"

You purse your lips to suppress a smile. As he puts the car in park, his grey eyes find yours in the dark. His hat sits tilted on your head, and Chuuya doesn't believe he's ever seen anything as beautiful in his life. The feeling makes his chest hurt.

"Alright?" He repeats, but his voice is void of the previous sharp tone.

You lean forward and press your mouth against his. Chuuya's hand slides to your neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You pull back and watch through lidded eyes as he chases your lips. After one last peck, Chuuya kisses both of your cheeks and falls back in his seat.

"Good girl."

[animefreak1145]

Rest(Adler x Bell!Reader)

Summary: You’re here only because of what you heard about Russ. Out from the shadows of another life Adler carefully constructed for you(with a few edits with your own hand) back into the fold. You immediately tracking him down to Bulgaria in those months(because of course he doesn’t want you involved, that arrogant bastard of a man), doing your best to help him out this pit of a trap that he’s pinned in. That someone else pinned on him.

They’re dead once you figure it out.

(Or where you discover that you and Case don’t work well together. You despise mirrors being thrust onto you.)

| Only hints to imply how Bell is alive and being a secret throughout the story. Nothing clear cut. Fill the lines yourselves. |

Created with @makeyourpeacenow. Cross posted on AO3

Words: 24k

Tags/Warnings: Post-The Final Countdown Mission | Solovetsky Ending, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Angst, Action/Adventure, Drama & Romance, Codependency, Bell and Adler are obsessed with each other, Everyone is concerned about the psychos, Mostly Marshall, Manipulation, Mind Games, Bell does it this time, Adler too of course, Reader-Insert, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Mild Smut, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Older Man/Younger Woman, Character Study, Case Deserves Love, Bell too, Justice for Case and Bell, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault but not true, Mind Regression, Hallucinations, Cognitive Dissonance

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You tried to go solo at first, picking up the crumbs of the bread trail Russell had left you. 

Finding Rook was no easy feat, but it’s not a discovery you find worth celebrating, not as the circumstances stood. Commotion from down the cliff-hugging road had driven you into the bunker, derelict as the rest of the house. Unaware of who had arrived, friendly or otherwise, had left you with little choice but to corner yourself there. 

Your only reassurance was the old soviet-tech surveillance that you nearly managed to reconfigure, the familiarity of it nearly foreign as you worked to fix it, mentally cursing whatever idiot had wired the home in such a convoluted way. 

Audio… online. 

It was gritty, the audio cracking through the old speakers in a volume that nearly had you jump—of course the headphones you plugged in weren’t picked up by the system. 

Your heart skipped a beat when you heard it. Woods. 

Right. Friendly, then. Other voices, too, but you didn’t care much for that. It’s enough for you to holster your firearm and to work up the nerve to crawl out of the bunker you’d isolated yourself in.  

You didn’t cower at the gun that trained on you, opting for an unimpressed quirk of your eyebrow. The young man wasted no time in dragging you before Woods. Later, you’ll discover his name is Marshall, Troy Marshall. 

The shock on Woods’ face when he saw you was paralleled by your own. 

Your equal shock at seeing Woods, all movement and loud and free, being stuck in a chair and more reserved must’ve snapped him out of it.

“What the actual fuck?! Bell?! Is that you?!”

You winced, your hands that were raised moving slightly so you could put a finger to your ear. “You’re still loud. Knocking any extra mannequins on the floor with that tank of yours?” 

Woods stared before letting out a guffaw, hand slapping to his head.

“It is you, you little shit. What happened to not a word?”

Your lips quirked, teasing as Marshall and Case looked at each other in confusion.

“I feel I can get a break. The whole dead thing breaks off smalltime deals, I think.”

“But you’re not.” Woods straightened in his chair, and you spot just how quickly his mind was working while you assessed one another. “Adler has a shit ton of explaining to do.” Woods glanced towards Marshall and Case whose guns remained trained on you, quick to inject levity into the situation. “What are you doing? This isn’t a fuckin’ cowboy-duel. Put your guns away, trigger fingers!”

Marshall hesitated, allowing himself to tear his eyes from you, glancing at Woods while Case lowered his firearm, postponing holstering until he could properly grasp the situation.

“Are we supposed to know who this is, old man? This isn’t Sevati.” Marshall looked at you, brows pinching as he tried to figure you out. You could spot where his heart is without him even having to say his next words. “Did Adler send you here too? For Pantheon?”

Your brows relaxed at the verbal confirmation, friendly. Definitely friendly.

“You can say that,” you nodded, shrugging your shoulders casually.

Marshall’s brows only pinched more as Case merely tilted his head at you, quiet. “It either is or isn’t. Who are you?”

Oh no. You’re having fun.

You smiled sardonically, hands moving to your hips as Woods sighed.

“Depends who calls.” You could spot the young man’s growing irritation while the other only continued to assess you, not taking his eyes off of you. You met the quiet man’s eyes, something pulling you to. It felt familiar. “You can call me by my name.” You offered your name before looking to the side out the window, the Black Sea unusually quiet. “My friends call me Bell.”

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It pissed you off that you couldn’t be involved in grabbing team members. Woods had torn into you when you complained, accused you of not being companionable enough to those that had yet to earn your trust. You’d only huffed then, and muttered something about how Woods had really stepped into the mentor role. He used to hate rookies, called them fuckin’ idiots due to their inexperience. 

You’d been stuck with Woods who was trying, and struggling, to pick up the pieces of what happened in the last decade. You were good at skimping on the details, stubborn as always. 

Although, you also supposed you only had Woods to truly talk to about any of this, decade and now. You’d only given him tidbits. More than what you would say to the others, but less than what he wanted.

There was a look in Woods eyes that he’s not satisfied with your answers but it seems he’s still nosy for another useless question. You could feel his stare burning your head from the other side of the room from where you worked, computers open, routes mapped out for where they’ll go in to get Adler.

“Can you spit it out already, Woods?”

“Thanks,” Woods sarcastically spat before you heard him lower his beer bottle on the table by his cot. “How long you’ve been fucking the bastard?”

You startled, ears turning hot even as you turned your chair to look at him in a mix of askance and disgust. You hadn’t forgotten how coarse he could be, but it didn’t soften the blow each time he reminded you. 

“Woods!”

“What?! I’m just asking!” Woods raised his hands as if to surrender, but he clearly liked getting a rise out of you. Just like old times, always through Adler. “I thought the fucker would be icy for his whole life, but all he needed was someone like you to match his psycho.”

You turned your body back to the computer, throwing him the finger as you grumbled while he only laughed.

“You’re so nosy,” you remarked, your tone tainted with a sliver of disbelief. “You’ve turned into a gossip in your old age, old man.”

“That’s uncalled for.”

You went back to reviewing the map after a roll of your eyes. Near silence, save for the sound of glass against wood each time Woods took a drink and rested the bottle on the table. You were starting to feel your brow twitch in annoyance, you could hardly work when you knew he was there, undoubtedly staring at you for your attention. 

“I didn’t realize you were so prissy when it comes to Adler.”

“Oh my God,” you groaned under your hands, rubbing your temples. “Your ‘kids’ need to hurry up and bring these people in before they find your dead body on that chair.”

“You got something against disabled vets?” It was so sudden, so out of the blue, that you pulled a face at the absurdity of his words.

You turned, ever so slowly in your chair, gobsmacked. Eyes wide.

“What?”

“Prejudiced.”

Your exasperation was growing as you shook your head at him. Woods who had the special ability on how to pull your leg.

 “I’d be prejudiced if I—if I didn’t kill you for your constant poking and prodding like I would for anyone else… !”

Woods looked up in mock thought.

“I don’t know. Still sounds prejudiced to me.”

“I’m going to ignore you now,” you finally said, undignified, and turned back to your work.

“You can try,” he warned with jest. Maybe it was the alcohol, or that fact that was just you and him in the safehouse, but he seemed lighter than he had been before. Looser. “But you got a decade’s worth to catch up on me fucking with ya. It’s a lot to work with.”

You clicked a little louder on the keyboard, your fingers a little more forceful than necessary.

That Marshall and Case needed to hurry up. 

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Case found that the woman, ‘Bell,’ was… interesting. Mysterious.

Her answers were short each time he asked a question, tight-lipped in an annoying yet smooth way. Her eyes were either cooly assessing or seeming to have found him funny somehow, while other times she appeared bewildered by him. He wasn’t sure why.

He first noticed her analysis of him immediately when they met her. He dismissed it at first; he was used to people trying to figure him out, being scrutinized under a microscope. Yet somehow… it was disconcerting—messing with his head. From how she’d tilted her head at him when he denied treatment for the blow to his head—courtesy of Sevati’s part of the deal—to now when he’d asked what she thought of Adler.

“...you’re odd,” Bell stated by the computers to the wall near Felix’s own desk. The remark had been rather abrupt, Case could only blink.

“That’s rude,” Felix said, typing away behind his green shades. “At least that’s what others say when I also point out the obvious.”

“You think I’m odd?” He didn’t know why; he thought he was fairly normal. (Better.) “What makes you say that?”

Bell only pressed her lips together, frowning at him.

“I hear from Woods you’re pretty calm,” she started tamely, and Case agreed with the sentiment. He was calm. “Quiet. A good shot. Nearly invincible at times. Although, I don’t call your head being cracked by a butt of the pistol, invincible. You’ve been with Marshall for years.”

“Yes, and?” Case poked. He didn’t see the point in her statements, if there was any.

“And nothing. That’s it. You don’t talk about much else, even to your longtime friend.” Bell pointed at him, motioning all around his body from down to up. “Odd.”

Case decided to leave her and move on to talk to Felix. Her eyes never seeming to leave him even after he left the room to find Marshall and talk. Marshall never looked at him like there was something to be seen, something hidden to be unearthed. Just there.

Just Case.

It was only later on in the day, that Case found himself with the same observation Bell had of him, towards her. “What are you doing?”

Bell was crouching near Woods’ chest, seeming to stare intently at a certain item Case couldn’t see from the angle he’d stood at—just at the entrance of the room with the evidence board. He was torn between averting his gaze to avoid staring at her behind untowardly and scrutinizing her snooping.

Bell turned around and gave Case a dry look. “Well aren’t you nosy,” she remarked, supplying another one of those non-answers that she’d perfected.

Case’s brows pinched, incredulous of the hypocritical nature of it. “Are you self-aware?”

“I don’t know. Are you? You trail back to every conversation there is in this house.” 

“… not every one.” That wasn’t the point. “You shouldn’t look through people’s stuff.”

“Uh huh. I’m just… making sure of something.” Case noted the slight upturn of Bell’s lip, an imperceptible smile at the little picture with Woods and the recently deceased operative, Alex Mason. The moment was over before Case could properly comprehend it, and Bell stood, crossing her arms at Case. “You look through people’s stuff too.”

“Your accusations are baseless.”

“Uh huh...” If possible, the woman even looked more unimpressed with him than before. Something in him bristled. He held it back. Like always. “You normally look through Marshall’s drawings and people’s files in their own rooms or do they happen to just fall in front of you?”

Case eyes slightly narrowed, tilting his head. 

“Are you watching me?”

Bell shrugged.

“Someone has to. Especially somebody who claims he isn’t nosy. And odd. I’ll give you this, you don’t have good tracking skills like I do when it comes to information.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?” He kept the air nonchalant, blasé with his raised eyebrows and dubious look. 

“That’s what I’m calling it. I’ll let you get back to your little chase, Case.” Bell snickered before leaving the room.

Case remained standing, looking down at himself in quiet thought.

Am I really that nosy?

It happened again, right after they arrived and achieved in getting Adler back to the Rook.

Case was in the room where he was certain Adler had been residing, whilst the man was downstairs with Bell, organizing for Iraq—if their mild arguing could be called that. (Case lost interest when it seemed they were going in circles over Bell’s role in all this. Rare for him, losing interest. But something in Case… pricked at how Bell watched him. Like he was ready to turn, and she was prepared to pounce and bite his neck once he does). Bell not touching the room since they’ve been here, it made Case wonder once more at their relationship; Woods had painted it like they were Bonnie and Clyde. He already fiddled with the voice recording earlier, now he was trying to see what kind of medicine a man like the infamous Russell Adler took and what exactly he was hiding to need to cover the label. And to take it with whiskey as a shot.

“Good luck finding anything here.”

Case jumped, his eyes darting from the medicine on the bedside table to Bell leaning at a doorway.

She looked around as if she hadn’t said anything, eyes trailing over the room in mild concentration.

“He keeps his room clean. Any possible information you can gather from what you can see is because he’s letting you look, everything else is hidden; I haven’t had time to check the boards or the walls.”

“...I’m not trying to get information about Adler.”

Bell finally faced Case, eyes cool as she tilted her head, a nonplussed “Oh?” being released from her lips, carefully expressionless. 

Dangerous, Case supplied in his mind. He could see the threat of teeth, a bite worse than her bark.

“I was just taking a look,” he admitted, unashamed. His curiosity was only surface level, anyway. Bored. If they told him to stop, he would. “I wasn’t planning to dig around more than what’s already out to be seen.”

Bell raised a brow.

“You’re… polite. Still nosy. Though, not as nosy as me; I dig until I’m satisfied.”

Case didn’t quite understand Bell’s play, he only knew there was one. “You know everything about Adler, then? Is he trustworthy?” Maybe she’d answer now.

“You tell me. And not what Marshall repeats to you. You’ve seen him in action now. What do you actually think of America’s Monster, Russell Adler? Not Woods. Not Marshall. Not Sev. Not even Felix. You, Case.”

“Is this… a test of some sort?”

“Yes. You’re failing so far,” Bell said simply.

Case tried to think of what he gathered since he first saw the man to what he’d observed around the safehouse.

“… he’s capable. Knowledgeable. Seems to have good camaraderie with Woods, so he cares for those he knows. Appreciates loyalty. Secretive as you’ve said. I… have so far not seen what others say about him. For that moniker.”

“It’s gonna scare you off if you see it?”

Case’s brows furrowed.

“Why would it? He does everything for a reason surely. Not baseless.”

Bell blinked and the cool look in her eyes disappeared before she seemed to look at him in a new light. He couldn’t tell whether or not he’d displeased her yet.

“Careful, Case. You shouldn’t follow him baselessly.” 

“Don’t you?” Case quipped.

Bell smiled. It didn’t reach her eyes. Displeasure, then.

“I know what goes on in his head, you don’t. You have no reason to blindly follow someone like him. You need to be careful who you take orders from, or you’ll find your own moniker slapped on your face.”

“What would that be?”

“Case the Doormat, that’s what.” Bell snapped. Case wasn’t sure where this was coming from. He was having a hard time reading her; was she upset at him for willingly following her lover? Frustrated? Jealous? Something else? “You need to stick with your own morals and ways and not whoever you’re around. Pick someone to shadow and at least commit to it.”

“I follow whoever gives the order at the time.”

Bell’s brows furrowed, and Case could see she was analyzing him again. Turning over what whatever information she saw with each word he intoned. Every twitch of muscles and shuffle of his feet.

Dangerous, a voice said in his head.

“The Perfect Soldier type. Not used to someone like you. Follow all and loyal to none. What would Marshall say?”

“Marshall is my friend, I’ll do what he wants.”

“Right. But say you’re not near Marshall. He’s not in the team. You’re his friend so you know how Marshall sees things. How he works. Friends usually have the same moral code or views. So,” Bell finally stepped away from the doorway and took a step towards Case. “If you were ordered to do something the exact opposite of what Marshall would do, would you do it?”

She was trying hard to make sense of him, to find a loophole in how he functioned. He wasn’t intimidated by it, it was clear to him, after all. “I thought you appreciated me having my own opinion. Why should I copy Marshall’s? Which is it?”

Bell huffed out her nose, stepping back with a shake of her head.

“You’re fucking frustrating for a pawn,” she said bluntly, and somehow it felt incomplete—like she was vying with more to say but somehow thought better of it. “I don’t know whether it’s pathetic or pitiful.” Then, softer, quiet enough that he almost didn’t catch it: “You remind me of myself somehow.”

Case blinked. That was new. He thought she didn’t like him.

“Really?”

Bell gave him a look, meeting his eyes.

“Somehow,” she repeated and she left the room again in deep thought.

Case later on, slumbered on the couch with the TV—and wondered if he passed the test. He wondered why he felt as if she was right about them being similar.

He wondered if she hated being someone’s shadow and what she saw when she stared at him, able to so formlessly follow anybody.

He wondered why it bothered her so much—it didn’t bother him.

But… was that also the problem?

Case wondered if, inversely, the other problem was how easy it was to see her as nothing but Adler’s shadow, it was certainly a sentiment Marshall held—not that Case strictly had or agreed with all of Marshall’s sentiments—and Case felt it were apt enough, for a surface level descriptor. 

She’d called him a doormat, and he ought to have been offended—but he wasn’t. It just was. Then she’d claimed he reminded her of herself—and Case found himself considering that. 

If she was Adler’s shadow, who was he? Everyone’s shadow? Shadow for all. He wonders if that would be his moniker.

Case—Shadow for All, maybe. 

… America’s Shadow? He snorted at the imagery it inspired. Maybe not.

Everything reached a head when they found the facility on American soil in search of information on the Cradle. (The Cradle.) 

Bell was already irritated—miffed at how she felt she was slowing Adler down from tracking Gusev, with him back in the safehouse going over his resources, making phone calls and exhausting his connections in the area, working to track the Russian there as he waited for her with a sort of patience only reserved for her. (Their relationship was more, Case observed. Where Bell goes, goes Adler nearby—always in the corner or the next room, never further. Orbiting. Where Adler goes, Bell did her best to stay put, but like a magnet she gets pulled into the man’s space. Not lovebirds. Just… planets circling one another. Constants. Case couldn’t imagine what it is like—to be seen like those two see each other. They saved the world together before, Adler said. “Adler saved me,” Bell said at another time when the shaded man was nearby. Case spotted how interesting the man’s smile looked. Secretive. Yet filled with weight. There was something more. Case has yet to figure it out. Marshall couldn’t figure it out either. He found it odd. Marshall thought Bell was more dangerous than Adler. Dangerous, Case repeated. Co-dependant psychos, Marshall might have muttered after a few beers). 

Case never pictured the man being able to sit and wait.

The ladder broke, the rusted metal crumbling under his weight, and Case was stuck with Bell just as Bell was stuck with Case. Masks broken. Something in Case panicked. He reined it in just to answer Marshall’s concerned call.

“Masks are broken,” he informed dutifully, forcefully calm—blasé. Bell looked incredulous at his tone, and the lack of urgency therein. “We’re compromised.”

“Well, you’re still alive, that’s something.”

Case spotted Bell still before her eyes narrowed into something fierce at Marshall’s words. Case didn’t like it, it reminded him too much of (his brother) something better left forgotten. When Marshall’s orders continued, Bell looked as if she were seconds from snapping Case’s neck for Marshall’s gall, merely because his neck was the closest thing she could wring with her hands.

Gall? Gall at what?

What was wrong with following orders?

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“But we’re fine,” Case unhelpfully supplied. Again.

“What the shit?” You hissed, the abrasive gas started to make your throat itch uncomfortably. “You just admitted to Marshall that we’re compromised. We can’t go further. Throw a rope, Marshall!”

“Hey! You guys are alive down there! I don’t have rope right now. Sev and I will meet with you later! Just stay there if you’re so concerned, Bell,” Marshall stated over comms, his voice grating in your ear.

You saw red, you couldn’t accept this—not from him. 

“What the… what the fuck?! Marshall! Sev! No fuckin’ rope? What kind of amateurs…” You broke out into Russian, cursing, and dug through your pack to find a rope with a hook. You had your doubts about it, but it was all you had to work with. “Come on, Case. We’ll find our way up to them like this.”

“I don’t think that’ll work.” He stared at it dubiously and you huffed. You knew that. “You heard Marshall—we’ll meet up with them.”

Your jaw tightened as you eyed Case, who seemed perfectly okay with following Marshall’s easy going tune, when you knew the gas was burning his throat just like yours, your vision already getting somewhat hazy like you knows his was.

“We’re going up to them like this. End of discussion. You didn’t seriously think we’ll both waddle around here with gas in the air until we meet up with them. Are you a fool?”

“What does it matter? Marshall said we’re alive. We would be able to do it.”

You couldn’t tell if it was the gas that made you feel violent towards Case, or if you truly wanted to strangle him.

At your continued silent fuming of what you want to do, the both of you with no weapons, Case decided to speak. Again. 

Unhelpfully.

"Marshall said—" 

"I don't care.” You knew what Marshall said, and any reminder of his dismissal was enough to send you nearly over the edge.

Case narrowed his eyes as you tried to throw the rope with the hook above, only to curse and miss as it splashed down to the water.

“Suddenly acting better than thou towards me when I know you would listen to Adler.”

You darted your head toward him so fast that you think your vision might have blurred even more. His eyes were looking really punchable right now.

“Adler—“ You tapped Case’s chest with the hook twice, dampening his chest with each jab. “Isn’t here. And even he’s not this much of a rushing fool when biological weapons are involved! Your ‘friend’ should be tested! Is he even your friend?!”

Comms squeaked in both of their ears.

“Guys! Shut the fuck up and stop wasting time. Don’t drag Case down with you, Bell. You’re either in this mission or you aren’t.”

A bit late to back out now, you thought bitterly.

“Dragging...?! You little—“

“It’s my call, Bell. Do I really have to call Adler to have you listen to me?”

You felt the rage in you burn at that threat. It rose in your chest to your throat at the knowledge you wouldn’t want him to do that, to bother Adler over something so trivial. The knowledge that such a juvenile threat works. The knowledge just how easily they’re using you just like they’re using Case.

You discovered you don’t care much for Marshall.

You remained silent in your resentful concession, so Case answered for the both of you.

“We’ll find our way.”

“Good. See if you guys can find the power down where you are. It’s hard to see up here.”

You and Case didn’t answer, but you did curse again when you saw a screen flicker on the further you stumbled into the room, your head starting to spin—rice paddies in your periphery and you weren’t sure if the bell you heard was more than the memory you hope it was.

Case flinched at a mannequin, a suppressed yet audible gasp left his lips.

“We’re going to kill each other,” you deadpanned, your voice absent of the dread you felt. A familiar numbness came upon you, to protect your mind just like a decade ago. “это пиздец. у меня все было хорошо...”

“Did… you see that...?” Great. Case, Case actually sounded scared.

You laughed bitterly. Seeing a shadow of someone wearing a woven bamboo farmer’s hat run across the room, the silhouette of an Ak-47 in their arms and the phantom weight of an M16 in yours. 

“God. We’re so fucked.”

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The halls were quiet in the lab, Marshall used his flashlight to glance in every possible direction as Sev moved behind him. His uneasiness at how quiet the comms have been the last few minutes reaching a head.

“We haven't heard from Case in a while.” Marshall knew his friend was quiet, but Case knew when to give updates—when to fill in on new information. Case was a professional like that, and Marshall admired him for it. 

The lack of updates made him feel as if he might’ve made the wrong call, somehow. 

Sev’s next words, mildly concerned, only confirmed it.

"Bell hasn't insulted you in two minutes, Marshall.” Marshall bit his lip, careful where he stepped as he breathed deep through the gas mask.

It was no secret the two of them didn’t get along. She found Marshall trying to establish authority over Adler amusing—or that’s how Marshall saw it. It didn’t help that she added in a quip of her own, that she’d only follow one man unconditionally to the depths of hell, and it isn’t him.

Marshall didn’t think Adler was going to deny Bell’s clear loyalty, but he also didn’t expect just how easily the man accepted it. As if she just stated the sky was blue. The grass is green. The sun is yellow.

Bell will follow Adler to hell.

Marshall’s understanding of relationships was that you make sure your girl is protected, even from her own words. A little shush and a shake of the head, maybe an endeared smile or taking it as a joke.

Adler hadn’t reacted at all.

Just took another drag of his cigarette, staring Marshall down blankly, as if he thought that every word from Marshall’s mouth was just simply, and entirely, wasted breath. And it may as well have been, considering how little change Marshall’s assertion had brought about. A tilt of Adler’s head in Bell’s direction—acknowledgment to what she said—kept up that sharp smile on her face, softening at the edges at his motion. She beamed at the man. 

Marshall’s heard the stories of Adler. All the man’s monikers. There isn’t much anybody at the CIA who hasn’t. 

Someone as cocky and arrogant as Bell following anybody anywhere, let alone Adler? A linguistic and decoder genius that made someone like Felix impressed? Willingly following a wildfire? Marshall wasn’t used to someone like that.

Loyal yes. To Jane. To Old Man Woods. He thought he was loyal to the CIA but it’s just a lie. Blindly loyal?

Marshall liked having his eyes wide fucking open, thank you.

And Bell has made it clear just what cliff she’s willing to fall off of, back first.

Still, he could begrudgingly admit that the woman has her moments where even he thinks she’s funny. In an irritating kind of way.

Marshall cleared his throat as he checked the hall to their left, flashing at decorative chairs and an elevator that didn’t work. For now. They needed that power on.

“You don’t think she’s upset I used Adler right?” He knew well enough that they didn’t have to get along, exactly, to still be able to function well in a team, but it certainly didn’t hurt if they weren’t at each other’s throats. 

He didn’t have to see Sev to know she just rolled her eyes at him. “Using the ‘daddy card’ on a woman never goes well.”

“Uh,” he didn’t stumble, but it was a near thing. “What kind of father-daughter relationship are you seeing?”

Sev whipped her own flashlight at him, almost blinding his eyes—but he could see her deadpan.

“Haven’t had much bed experience in that, have you?”

“What...?!” 

Sev laughed and Marshall was thankful no one could tell he was blushing. “Get off my back, Sev!”

“Troy Marshall, the good ol’ Christian boy. Scared of a little salacious conversation.” 

“Oh, fuck off, Sev!”

Sev laughed again. The moment made Marshall’s shoulders loosen a little in tension. Still, he feels the weight of leadership.

Had he made the right call?

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“What the fuck, what the fuck— whattheFUCK!” You were running, M16 in hand blood rushing and your eyes(Needles, needles, needles, the red room, the red light, there’s a bell ringing—“We’ve got a a job to do”) as VC were chasing you. No end to them. They keep popping up. You’re sweating. The air is humid and hot but all you see are computers and desks and the lab. The lab, the lab, the lab. Tears were going down your cheeks as you ran and shot. Run and shoot. Jump the pits, drag your leadened feet through shallow streams, dodge the snipers in the trees.  “Russ…!” You yell brokenly, to nothing to no one. There’s no one here to hear. “Help…!” Your voice cracks, dehydrated and exhausted

Your vision is swimming. It’s being blocked. (Didn’t someone tell you to wait by the lobby?) Lobby? No. Trees? Leaves? Foliage. 

“You hid in the shadows and took out the VC one by one.”

Right. Yes. Stealth. 

You picked up a bow. Where did the M16 go? You dropped it. By the other key card.

Key card? Right. Key card. You need the key card. You need the key card to go up.

Up?

No…isn’t it through?

“Go through the door, Bell.”

You fall back to the floor as the Red Door lands a foot away from you, almost crushing you. The Red Door kills. The Red Door has secrets. 

Secrets. A weapon. What weapon? It’s new. It’ll kill millions.

“Where is Perseus planning to activate the codes, Bell?”

Perseus. The nukes. Yes. You must stop the nukes.

You get up and go to open the door but it’s locked. You let out a cracked laugh, hand to your face. Only for something cold and hard to smack you. You blink.

You’re in front of a computer dashboard for keycards. There’s the red one in your hand. The second one. You picked it up.

Picked it up? No. You killed VC for them. No. Perseus soldiers. No…Adler?

You killed Adler?

No, no, no, no, no.

“We gotta job to do, Bell.”

Yes.

You put the keycard in. You see one is still missing of the four. Where’s your partner?

(Who?)

You…don’t know. Actually, your team died. You were the only survivor. The only survivor of the crash.

It’s so bright. You can’t see. You stumble.

You land on the grass, you’re searching blindly for a weapon. VC are rushing at you! Shooting at you! You use the logs as cover, wood splintering off as bullets narrowly miss you.

You shoot but you keep hearing a ring.

(A bell?)

Why is it ringing?! The gun is broken. Throw it.

A VC throws a dart at you, but it’s not a dart. It’s a needle. You try to move but you’re stock still,  on the ground, you can’t move—you’re being held down.

You both feel and hear as the needles squelches into your eye.

You scream.

You scream yourself hoarse. Your throat is breaking. Someone is dragging you.

No. Choking. You’re being choked. 

You can’t breathe! Russ, please! You can’t breathe! Please stop! You don’t know where Perseus is! Stop!

“Bell?! Bell calm down! Sev—shit! Case, Bell?! Stop! It’s us! It’s us!”

There’s no us. Where’s Russ?! Where’s Adler?! You need Adler! You feel something coming out your mouth, it tastes like bile.

“She’s aspirating! Sev! Hold Case down for a sec.” You feel yourself get rolled over and you’re breathing, no. Choking. Is Russ your friend? If so, where is he? Where’s Russ? “Bell. I’ll call Adler after this. Just stay with me! How did you two even make it up here?” 

“Marshall, we have to knock her out.” Someone says, a woman. Park? But she’s British. You spit at the leftover vomit, adrenaline rush coming back full force. Park or Lazar? Lazar or Park? Who? Who? Who? Save who? “We can’t carry them both like this.”

“Shit…sorry, hold on Bell.” 

Hold? The grapple. Grapple who? You have to choose! There’s RPG’s! You struggled, trying to find the rope. Where is it? Where is it? 

“Marshall, you’re too soft!” 

A soldier got you in the head because all you see is black.

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A phone rings.

“Yeah?” a voice throaty from smoke use rasped out, smoke exhaled out in that very moment. Casual.

“Adler,” Marshall greeted grimly. The pause the older man made on the other line caused Marshall to bow his head and squeeze the phone, tense. 

Sev glanced over her shoulder, pausing from her checking on Bell and Case as she drove. 

“Yeah,” Adler said, tone shifting in a word. Something simmered under the surface. Bubbled.

Rip the bandaid, Marshall. Just like mom used to do. Just like what you do for Terry.

Marshall let out a resigned sigh, he knew it wouldn’t go over well. 

“It’s about your girl.” 

“... ETA?”

“It’ll be another few hours before we arrive. Seven.”

“Have Sev make it five.” Marshall glances at Sev, her acknowledging that she heard with a dip of her head. “And Marshall?”

Marshall lined his shoulders up, prepared for whatever the man was about to say. “The explanation better be good.”

And just like that, the man hung up.

Could someone make such a casual sentence sound like a threat?

Marshall discovered Adler could. On a more light hearted day, he needed to figure out how to do that.

Right now, he had to help his team.

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“What the fuck, Adler…?! I was just asking! She’s a part of my team whether she or you like it or not! Why Vietnam?! Case snapped, but not like this!”

Adler saw Troy Marshall had heart, he knew it would be the kid’s demise one day if he didn't change. The weight of it dragging him down. Too much compassion didn’t get you far in their world, and he respected those who knew their limits, those who knew they couldn’t go any further, the path they’d begun too treacherous.

But the kid had an uncomfortable amount of balls holding him back, too.

Adler smoked outside the front of the house, despite the rest of Marshall’s ‘team’ being an hour out. He wasn’t the kind of person to get restless, but he knew he couldn’t wait inside the safehouse, Woods’ heavy glances on him.

He walked up when they put the car in park, his mind going over every scenario again (Sims, this is scenario 17–), wondering exactly how shit hit the fan, what could have possibly happened. 

She was unconscious in the passenger seat, and Adler listened carefully to Sev’s explanation; she’d been like this for hours—subdued and knocked due to how uncooperative she had been. The few times they noticed Bell was awake, she hadn’t reacted to what was going on, or their voices, silent with her head bowed deeply to hide her face.

Adler only pressed his lips in answer to her words, gently taking a hold of Bell. Laid her down on the nearest suitable surface—a couch between the weapons bench and main entrance. He leaned on the armrest near her head after grabbing the nearest ashtray and placing it on the side table so he won’t leave her side, his hand combing through her hair as she rested. The contact seemed to soothe, somewhat. The only reaction were her brows forming lines between them, a weak noise escaping her lips.

Adler’s eyes narrowed beneath his shades before glancing at the others, and he feigned preparing a smoke as he put one between his lips.

Woods wheeled down by the other end of the couch, an obvious frown at the sight of Bell. Her skin was clammy, hair sticking to her forehead, her form boneless—unrelaxed yet pliant.

Felix came from the side hall of the basement and small bathroom, a hot towel held in a gloved hand, and cautiously maintained distance as he handed it off to Adler. He’d immediately understood that Bell had been impacted in an unforeseen way. It was apparent the moment Adler had helped her from the car, carrying her into the safehouse. 

(Look at that, he’d mused. Bell had made a friend of the germaphobe.) 

Adler nodded in thanks, pressing it to her head as Felix shifted over by the weapons bench, fiddling with the computer there, feigning work but facing the others, silently concerned. Sev leant atop the weapons bench too, lingering after she helped Marshall haul a worse-for-wear Case in the chair near the fireplace; the warmth would do him good.

Adler’s eyes finally faced Marshall, whose form was stood directly across from Bell, Woods and himself. It felt judicial, in a way—plaintiff, defendant and witness. Marshall, with a guilty air about himself, stood with a tense look on his face, staring down at Bell before the young man cleared his expression to face Adler. 

Marshall took one look at Adler and knew he was on borrowed time; he noted that it wouldn’t be wise to delay this any further and begun firing off what had happened. Their successful lab entry, followed closely by the mishap with the broken ladder for Case and Bell—their gas masks broken, exposing them to the compound-leak in the air.

“They were contaminated?” Felix asked in alarm, Adler was positive that the had German squeaked from how high his pitch rose. Felix’s eyes moved to and fro, darting from Bell to Case who was leaning his elbows on his knees, hunched over. “You brought them here?”

“And then?” Adler cut off the German’s building hysteria as he started muttering in dialect, something of the sächsisch variety, quickly going over the chemistry of most biological agents —especially those related to the Cradle as defined in the document from Hussein’s palace. He no longer idled at the workbench, clicking away. He needed more details. 

“And then…nothing,” Marshall supplied before straightening his shoulders, and despite it all, Adler was having a tough time seeing the man—it was just a kid hiding in a soldier’s skin. “The gas released in the lab didn’t display any nasty or violent side effects on them. Not like how we inferred back in Hussein��s sick playhouse with the lab tank he had in his basement. So I called it—for them to continue the mission.”

Woods expression broke a little, leaking disappointment mixed with shock.

“Kid…” Woods shook his head. 

Adler’s eyes went to Bell, his hand holding the towel to her head before moving it to wipe her cheeks. Similar to a decade ago, a half wit plan based on a whim atop the cliffs, arctic air cutting his cheeks similar to hers.

“What do you need me to do, Russ?”

Marshall took his silence for him to continue. Well, for Case to attempt to pick up the rest of the report, given that he was with Bell. Adler faced and assessed Case, who was heavy laden and despite his exhaustion—sequenced the events to the best of his abilities. How Bell immediately seemed to react to the gas, spotting things that weren’t there, and while Case had his own issues — he was sparse on providing details, he kept it hidden and focused on Bell, relegating his own reaction as insignificant. Adler picked up that Case was unnerved—only due to how Case’s boot was tapping every so often, a muted pattering against the hardwood flooring. The dismissal of his own wellbeing—his health—reminded Adler of Bell somehow, before Cuba. How she’d worked tirelessly in pursuit of her own people. 

And then Case mentioned it. Vietnam. 

Damn it all, Adler fumed, throwing away the used cigarette in the ashtray on the floor, lighting another with a flick of his lighter. 

Bell kept muttering about Vietnam, and an alarmed Case told her to stay by the lobby—just until he could retrieve the needed keycards for elevator access, where they’d meet Marshall and Sev on an upper floor. But he didn’t see her when he got them. Only knowing she also went to get keycards when he arrived with the last one from the right side of the lobby.

“Vietnam…” Marshall uttered, nodding at Case in thanks as he took over. “When me and Sev found Case and Bell seeming—seizing—over Case’s yelling, Bell kept screaming. But it was just…” Marshall paused, brows furrowing deeply, mind deep in thought as he started to pace with a hand to his head.

“Just what?” Adler asked, impatient. Calming when he felt Bell’s hand try to reach in his periphery. Adler let her take his hand and bring it closer to her face, and shifted slightly against the armrest of the couch to accommodate the movement.

Marshall stopped, turning towards him.

“She was… it sounded like she was calling for you, Adler. And—and not to you, but for you— pleading for you to stop…” he paused momentarily. “To stop whatever you were doing. And Perseus.” Adler felt her hand tense around his, her nails pressing crescent indents into the back of his palm in stress. “Why would she mention Perseus? I thought that guy was handled back in ‘84.”

Adler felt Woods glance. 

Adler took a long drag, embers lightning his face before he exhaled.

“Didn’t Bell explain anything to you guys on her background?”

Marshall scoffed, incredulity breaking through concerned perplexity. 

“Tch, no. She’s been tightlipped since we caught her slither out that bunker she cracked opened. Most she ever talked is how she got more involved in the field after ‘84. She didn’t specify what part of the underground exactly, just that she did.”

He could work with this.

And Woods would cover, too.

Adler glanced at Woods, a small frown around his cigarette.

“Didn’t tell them how you knew Bell, Woods? Despite how she helped save the free world with us? Thought you liked her.”

Woods shrugged, a sarcastic quirk of his lips.

“What can I say, I like to take all the glory.” 

Adler managed a quick smirk, seeing how Woods will play along, before shifting and taking another drag. All eyes on him as he gathered his thoughts, the timeline, fact and fiction.

Time for a story. 

“A story? I don’t know…Will this really work, Adler?”

He made it work for a decade. He just needs…some extra exposition for new audience members. He’ll make it work.

He thumbed the back of Bell’s hand before beginning.

“Bell extended her services to us a decade ago. Information came out that the man we all thought was Perseus had nuke codes that will kill millions. Bell was an ex-KGB operative that heard about it through mutual friends.”

Woods nodded. It was easy to build off of truth, not hers, but rather the countless other soviet defectors they’d recruited throughout the Cold War. “Just like another KGB operative that was sick of the Soviet’s shit. Belikov helped us out there too.”

Adler took an another drag, exhaling as he made a small glance towards Case under his side shades. This was where he had to be careful. He wasn’t sure what exactly Case remembered or how much he withheld.

“She helped with that fiasco. During that time, I took her under my wing you can say. After that, she went to semi retirement. She just wanted to help us with Perseus. We let her go on her way. She accomplished what she was meant to.” Adler could feel the pistol in his gloved hands, speech over and done with. Before he paused. A camera. Thoughts of books. Of a story. He remembered how he cursed in his head before he rationalized the opportunity. For an ear on the other side. “It didn’t stay that way. After the debacle of sleeper agents in ‘84, she took a more active role again instead of working on decryptions and linguistics. She reached out to me. After that, it’s history.”

Marshall turned over the information in his head while Sev quietly mused to Felix that no wonder he got along with Bell; they were both homebodies with the their tech at one point. Felix rolled his eyes before he tore his gaze from the computer to look at Adler.

“Curious, though. Case mentioned that Bell kept going on about Vietnam.” Felix quickly glanced over at Bell. “Impossible it was for that war. Too young.”

“Ehhhh,” Sev interrupted, hand to her cheek. “Might be. Never doubt a woman’s skincare routine. She was ex-KGB wasn’t she? Perhaps they sent her there when they already took over in Vietnam for a mission before she defected.”

“No,” Marshall said, raising a hand with pointer finger up, shaking his head slowly before gaining speed just as his hand moved up and down. “No, Case made it seem way more serious than a backwards one time mission in Vietnam. Something about your explanation is fishy.”

Adler rose a brow, free hand grabbing his cigarette.

“Fishy, huh? What’s fishy is how you’re leading this team to the ground, kiddo. You’re not exactly impressing me with your false macho bullshit.”

Marshall stilled. Everyone’s eyes now on the two of them—Adler’s inscrutable expression and Marshall appearing as if he were seconds away from snapping.

“What the fuck, Adler…?! I was just asking! She’s a part of my team whether she or you like it or not! Why Vietnam?! Case snapped, but not like this!”

To his knowledge, Adler thought. Case was more secretive than he let on.

“Just asking. Right. And your team?” Adler didn’t spit the word out, buts it’s a near thing with how icy he says it. Adler scoffed. “You’re lucky the world is facing a threat because I would take Bell and myself away from this. Or start calling the shots myself.”

Marshall’s eyes flashed, taking a step forward. Adler’s eyes narrowed at the kid getting near Bell’s body on the couch with so much emotion. This was already a fucking mess and the last thing he needed was for it to turn violent. 

“What—“

“Marshall!” Woods snapped. Marshall tried to take a deep breath before turning towards Woods—who only shook his head. “Lay off of him, would ya? Bell’s his protege and you fucked up. Bell will tell the rest of her story if she wants to tell you.”

Marshall’s hands clenched at his sides, while everyone else watched. Sev and Case looked in a more subdued fashion, whereas Felix made no attempt to hide his wide stare. 

“You won’t get answers to anything with the way you’re acting. You earn answers. And with the stunt you pulled?” Adler added, taking a major inhale, his third cigarette throughout this ordeal. Hold gentle around Bell’s hand despite the tension. “Consider yourself on the blacklist of needing to know.” 

Marshall opened his mouth before glancing at Bell. He relaxed, clicking his mouth shut. 

“Fine. But just…you can help her right? Your girl?”

“Of course. Now go, Marshall.” Adler moved and scooped her up, bridal style as she turned her face into his chest, blinking languidly as he made for the stairs. She might’ve mumbled something against him, despondent. He paused on a step, aware of their audience that had yet to disperse. “Don’t come in my room unless you want a bullet lodged in your head. Woods?”

“Ay, ay. You heard the chain smoker, everyone. Now stop hanging around like it’s a play and get to work!”

Adler entered his room and laid Bell atop his bed. He brushed her hair slightly with his thumb off of her face. 

He sighed.

“This is a shit show. But I got you, Bell. I got you.”

“…R…uss…?”

Adler’s hand dipped to your parted mouth, you tried hard to open your eyes.

“Easy.” Adler shushed, a light kiss to her forehead. “It’s me. I have you.”

“…’Na…m” Adler watches your lip trembling, a tear going down your cheek. “VC…Hue City…”

“That’s a long time ago. We’re not there anymore. That war is over.”

Bell let out a choked sound. Adler couldn’t tell if it were a sob of despair or relief. Perhaps both. 

“So…real…” 

“Yeah?” Adler grabbed her hand, placing it over his scarred cheek while he hung his shades from his collar. “As real as this feels?”

Bells eyes fluttered open and Adler finally took a look at them. Blown wide yet hazy. Not here. Adler did his best to not get affected by it. She didn’t need that.

Bell thumbed the scar on his chin. 

“Per…seus. He’s real.”

“He’s dead. He can’t get us,” Adler intoned, a quick kiss to her palm. “Nothing can get us. I’m here.”

This time, Bell did let out a cry. Pulling her hand away so she could hide her eyes and turn her back to him.

“You. You can get me. Needles. It…hurt.”

Adler pressed his lips together, aborted further attempts to grab Bell again but remained seated on the bed. She seemed to seek his presence before, on the couch. 

“Do you want me to leave?”

Bell shot up, much faster than Adler would have been comfortable with, but before he could nag her she yelled a loud, “no!”

Bell blinked out her fear, instead looking down and not meeting his eyes, clenching her hands around the sheets.

“No… stay… please?”

Adler didn’t need much convincing. He hasn’t seen you like this in a long time. 

“Scoot over a bit. And lay back down for me. You need to rest.” Bell did so, almost falling over with how much room you’re willing to give him. Sacrificing your comfort for his. Adler sighs at it. Back to square one again with their relationship. So hard to make it seem even between them and she’s back to this. Adler laid down but motioned his hand at her to come closer. “Come closer. You’ll fall.”

Bell looked hesitant. Eyes going back and forth from his hands to his jacket pockets to his shades. As if searching for something.

He sighed again before slowly sitting up, taking his jacket off and emptying out the pockets she kept glancing at; he threw everything useless onto the floor.

“I don’t have anything. Come, Bell. I won’t hurt you.”

Bell bit her lip, jittery eyes meeting his even ones.

“Needles?”

“No.”

“MK-Ultra.”

“No,” he repeated evenly again. He didn’t need it for her. He wasn’t lying. 

Bell placed a hand to her left shoulder, hesitating.

“Bullet?”

“…okay. Only for you, Adler. Just don’t miss the shot.”

Adler’s eyes tightened, closing before opening them again to meet hers.

“No. Never again. I need you to rest, Bell.”

“…okay. Whatever you say, Adler.”

Something twists in his stomach but she clambered closer to him, much closer than he thought she would. Head tucked into his neck and arm thrown over him, he could feel your tears on his skin. Adler can only slowly and gently lay a hand on your waist to not scare you off. 

He’ll let you rest. But later, he needs to know what happened.

For now though, Adler felt Bell’s deep inhale—as if wishing to memorize his scent and felt her breath on his neck. For now. 

“Sleep for me, Bell.” 

He felt her eyelashes flutter against his skin, eyes closing in answer.

For now, his girl needed rest.

▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▛ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▟ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚

You’re off-kilter. 

Not only because you can’t go down to the bunker anymore(red room, red room, Red Door—“Normal forms of interrogation weren’t working.”), or be anywhere near all the televisions—from the living room to the security feed (you flinch as napalm struck, a near deafening roar in your ears, diving for cover from the flames—only for Woods to coax you out from under his cot, your limbs trembling as you realized it was just the thunder that struck outside, before distracting you with a story with him and Mason and Mason’s son—David. Your fear and blood pumping slowing at the look Woods has in his eyes. Sad yet proud at a boy who’ll soon be a man. Your dignity was saved that the others were in the training grounds or the kitchen.), but because you can’t even go on the mission with Russell (Adler? Your old friend. Not old friend. Liar. Adler always lies. “You have to stay, Bell. I’ll handle Gusev. Trust me.” Adler always lies. You were pathetic how you wished for you to go, or him to stay, weak for even asking just once. Back to severe co-dependency. As if Adler’s plan of forcing you to be independent and make your own plans never happened. Back to not only wanting to be near him but needing him near you. Needy for praise. Adler finally having you to let go of the lapels of his jacket with his breath to your ear, “You can do anything, Bell. You can handle this for me, красивая. Stay and help me watch the kids from killing each other while I’m gone. You will, won’t you?” Of course. You can do that for Adler. ▚ Anything for Adler. ▟ You’re living for him alone. ▚) and at least help the others in the casino with the heist live on the ground. 

You feel useless. 

You can still help in the technology side of things, but what good is that when half of the tech in the safehouse is underground? Underground where your dread compounds, heart racing to the point it hurts. Ears ringing, your shallowed breathing doing nothing to help your panic.

Each time you blink, something skitters on the screen, reminders of a war you shouldn’t remember—of imposed pain that was never yours.

So yes. You may be moping. 

It doesn’t help you are still upset at Marshall for Case’s treatment back in the mission. But it does help to distract you from your miserable trauma you’re trying to shake away, because the man upsets you again about Case’s role in this mission.

You heard the plan from your spot near Woods cot, the both of you going over necessary supplies and exfil. Your head whipped back at them as Case just stood(Always just standing there. Willingly being led like a lamb to slaughter. You would do anything for, Adler. You did. You killed a man because you knew Adler would prefer his death over capture.) and seemed satisfied at the plan in place. Perfectly willing to be a tool.

“Wait—Case is going to be part of the bait of this mission?” You ask incredulous, hands tight around the binder Woods gave you to look over. The older man was staring at the side of your head, but you ignored it as you stood. “Even after what happened? It wasn’t just me that went through that gas.”

They all turned their heads from the evidence board towards you, Sev shifting on the desk she was sitting on. 

“True. But Case’s bender that accompanied your horrible acid trip has calmed.”

Marshall nodded at Sev’s words, putting the folder in his hands to his side for a moment as he slightly shook Case’s shoulder with a smile, his touch light—companionable. It nearly made you frown.

“Case would’ve told us if we couldn’t depend on him, anyways. I’ve known Case for years and he’s one strong motherfucker. Ain’t that right, Case?”

Case chose silence as his answer. You noticed he hadn’t stopped looking at you with a slight frown since you spoke up, a subtle downturn of his lips.

(Why were you defending him? He didn’t care. You wanted to punch him for it.)

He was scared. He’s a person. 

“Now all the subject needs is a name.”

He’s a person . 

Felix cleared his throat to gather attention, leaning on the desk behind his favorite computer screen, looking as apprehensive as you felt towards all of this. 

“I do share your concerns, Bell. Made it apparent to Marshall here.” Felix tipped his head towards the man for show; Marshall looked away in turn, letting go of Case’s shoulder at Felix’s stare before the German turned towards you, a bleak turn of the lips. “But, I digress. The short half-life of the gas indicates it’s in neither of your system’s anymore, although I am having trouble sleeping at night despite that—“ Felix couldn’t help but add.

“Get to the point, Felix,” Sev cut off, exasperated. 

“Right.” Felix looked miffed at the interruption before he gave you an understanding expression. “Case has demonstrated he is capable for a mission such as this, and has insisted on it the moment Marshall mentioned it. There are no obvious side effects displayed—unlike what we have observed in you, Bell.”

“Thanks,” you cracked sarcastically, too tired and self-deprecating to snap that you weren’t useless. But for the life of you, you couldn’t help but meet Case’s eyes with your searching ones. “That true, Case? Able to take a few punches for the team? I see that Marshall isn’t volunteering for that—willing to play some cards instead.”

“You know the kid isn’t like that, Bell,” Woods defended, because of course he did. You saw what Woods saw—a mirror of the veteran’s younger days. But it was different;  Woods wouldn’t treat Mason like how Marshall treated Case. How everyone treated Case. How Case treated Case. “Case has insisted that what happened was no big deal. Hell, the guy’s invincible like that. Almost like me.” Woods tried to joke, to make you crack a smile. You didn’t.

Only stared at Case.

How long would he be quiet?

(You were quiet about seeing Vietnam on screens a decade ago. A secret. You didn’t want to disappoint Adler. Seen as soft. Something to throw away.)

What are you trying to do, Case? You wonder, spotting how Case’s jaw twitched in discomfort at your assessing gaze. What are you trying to prove? To who?

Marshall took a step towards you, hand to his chest in defense and obviously on the defensive.

“What makes you think I’m just throwing Case to the wolves, Bell? Just cause at what happened in that last mission doesn’t mean I don’t care about my team mates.” Your hand twitched at your side. You could picture it. Socking the young man in the jaw. Maybe that would spur Case out of this pitiful pit he’s put himself. Marshall took a breath, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose before facing you, eyes open and full of regret. You couldn’t help but glance at it. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry about what happened down there, Bell. That was the wrong call. But this—this plan is the right call. We need to help Adler find Gusev and the casino is the key, whatever is in B24 is the key.”

Your lips thinned before scoffing and looking away, waving a hand at him in dismissal. Despite the obvious manipulation once more—you’ll give him some leeway due to his own obvious betrayal of one he saw as a friend.(See how it feels? A part of you thought with petty yet cruel satisfaction.)

“Yeah, yeah fine. Do what you guys want.”

You turned back to work with Woods, trying not to silently stew and focus on what Woods was saying and ignoring his stares. When the others moved to leave the room, you did stop Case from moving by the evidence board; grabbing his wrist firmly, opening your mouth to speak quietly.

“Case, what are you—“

But he beat you to the punch as he connected your gazes, causing you to falter at Case’s incredulous irritation.

“Why do you keep fighting?”  

“I—“ you blinked rapidly. “What?”

“Why do you keep fighting?” Case repeated, his tone growing more bewildered each time he spoke. You wondered for a second if he thought you were purposely trying to challenge Marshall’s authority—as if you you found amusement in destabilizing the dynamic of the team. “What’s the point in what you’re doing? It’s easier to just accept it.”

“Breaking a subjects will and erasing their mind is a difficult and painful process.”

Your eyes slit, tightening the hold around Case’s wrist.

“What?”

Case shook his head, he almost looked like he was pleading with you.

“Just stop. Just accept. Is that so hard?”

You bit the inside of your lip so you wouldn’t reach for his throat to tear it out—it’d be much more merciful than this pitiful display.

(It’s been so long since you wondered—your fate if you just talked. Confessed. Where did loyalty get you? To Adler, you answer, sure. But where did that leave you? To Adler, you answer, pathetically, longingly.)

It slapped you in the face, what pissed you off so much about Case. It disarmed you, making your hold loosen around his wrist and letting him escape with a final yet tense incredulous look towards you over his shoulder.

The way you easily fold for Adler, despite your natural loyalty and cognitive dissonance acting up on how exactly he got that loyalty from what occurred a decade ago—compared to Case who folded for all, found it easier to just accept than fight, unlike you.

Your loyalty was fictitious, then earned through years—falsehoods and reality mixing. You followed only the one, whether it was pre MK-Ultra or after—you would do everything and anything for the one you call yours.

Case—just took the easiest route in life and followed whomever. He couldn’t see himself fighting for one side—even if that side was himself. He did whatever was asked of him, no matter the consequence. The willing doormat welcoming all types of scrapes and scuffs off of shoes.

Dangerous, you thought. It made you sick. 

Your stomach only turned further at the thought of how long, or rather how quickly, it would take Adler to realize the same thing about Case.

You didn’t know from what.

You needed a distraction before your mind connected to what exactly Adler would do with a perfect soldier like Case—wandering after you finished with Woods for something to do. Only to find Felix in his customary spot, his favorite computer set up. You moved to join him, your presence usually welcome behind the computers, like always before the man raised a gloved hand at you, so sudden it nearly startled you. 

You wondered if he had a job for you, if you were needed elsewhere. 

“Please keep your distance,” the German said tersely. Blunt. “I rather like dreaming of unicorns and rainbows and not general horrors of my life.”

Ouch. You raised your hands in mock surrender, lips twisted up.

“I get it. Sorry.”

“…oh. Here.” He picked up a floppy disk and threw it in your general direction, you managed to catch it haphazardly. “Take a look at that please. It’s the encryption system the casino uses for their facility and I have exhausted enough time on that with no improvement.” Felix took a breath and he actually looked pained as he met your stare. “I’m stuck. I, Felix Neumann, finally admit I am stuck and need your help. Don’t rub it in my face.”

Your mouth parted at him, throwing his pride away so easily when they were in a childish and ego inducing competition before.

“…you want me to?”

“That gas really did a number on you.” Felix said in answer before giving you a shooing motion towards the computer by Sev. “Go. And don’t come near me till you finish that.”

You decided to take a quick look at Sev’s computer, raising your brow dubiously and throwing him a rising smirk.

“Easy as pie. Didn’t the Stasi train you for—“

“Oh. Good. You’re alive and back. Please leave before finishing that sentence and I decide to not be courteous to you.”

You crack a small smile, just an iota.

“…thanks.”

Felix made a noise, but outside of it—nothing. You decided to put your big boots on and help. 

Enough with the moping and Case; time to actually help.

▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▛ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▟ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚

Case really wanted a towel.

Blood stuck on his face and neck, firm and baked on by the sweltering heat of Iraq. It stuck no matter how much he tried to wipe it with gloved hands—the gloves weren’t much better off. He paused from trying to wipe, eyes observing the way the copper stained deep in his gloves. How it wanted to get deeper. Past the cloth. Past his skin—entering the flesh and in turn the muscles and making him squeeze. His fingers furled unconsciously. 

“You can dispose of him now.”

(“…̷t̷̷h̷̷e̷ ̷d̷̷o̷̷c̷̷t̷̷o̷̷r̷, ̷g̷̷e̷̷t̷ ̷t̷̷h̷̷e̷ ̷d̷̷o̷̷c̷̷t̷̷o̷̷r̷!” Very good, Case, the voice in his head—female—said. But it wasn’t in his head. Not then. She was right there—she said to kill him—his—his—)

His vision turned, pain shooting through his temples, quick and short. Not enough for an obvious wince, but for him to squeeze the hand in front of him into a tight fist.

“How we doing, Case?” He turned to face Adler who was sitting in front of him on the back of the army supply truck they were in. Rolling along back to the outskirts of the camp that Captain Sims was in(“Both of you can get out of my sight! We’re done, Adler! I don’t want you to set one motherfuckin’ toe on my grounds after that stunt!”) but separate from the commander. Case didn’t think they might be friends anymore; he didn’t understand why. Gusev needed to be disposed(̷D̷̷i̷̷d̷ ̷h̷̷i̷̷s̷ ̷b̷̷r̷̷o̷̷t̷̷h̷̷e̷̷r̷?). Adler, as always, seemed unaffected at what transpired—a smoke around his mouth with blood visibly on the base of neck, stains all over the front of his uniform. His shades half-heartedly cleaned from stubborn wiping, accompanied by Adler’s mild muttering annoyance, the most emotion Case has heard, save for the older man’s disappointed tone toward his old friend, hearing him mutter about needing cleaning wipes. “Hold on. Here,” Adler reached into the back pocket of his pants, a hand towel already soiled(that’s how his face was mostly clean, must’ve been when Case was still staring at the dismembered lower half of Gusev’s body, whereas Sims was focused more on the man.) and tossed it at him. 

Case caught it, giving him a quiet thanks and nod of appreciation—despite the towel already being used. He’s thankful he just has it. It’s the same man’s blood they’re wiping off, after all. No need to turn his nose up at that.

Adler took a deep inhale, embers quickly eating up the cigarette before he tapped off the edge to the side.

“Thanks for that back there.” Case glanced at the man, Adler’s tone still light but appreciative. Holding weight. “I know it caused a mess on ya. Tried to take the brunt of Gusev’s guts before Sims attempted something else.” Adler cracked a light smirk. “Didn’t want him to have something else to complain about. Having a man’s blood literally on his hands, whether true or not, would’ve pushed Sims over the edge.”

Case believed it would. 

When Adler gave the order to kill(̷D̷̷i̷̷s̷̷p̷̷o̷̷s̷̷e̷) Gusev, Case wasn’t watching anyone else. His vision blurring, his ears seeming to deafen his surroundings and only focus on Gusev’s erratic breathing and final plea—only for Sims to grab Case back. Unluckily for the man that reminded Case of Marshall, the momentum of grabbing Case’s shoulder instead of Gusev and his inattention to Adler’s subtle movement of destabilizing Gusev’s feet—it caused a short, curdling yell within the propeller. The metal squeaking in protest much worse than when Adler threw a rock in it—blood spraying upon Case’s front. Adler managed to shield Sims and Case from the majority of it, the sound of the skull thumping around and metal cutting through bones and flesh echoing in Case’e ears. Case watching as the man’s top half was gone, only everything from the waist down was untouched—outside the guts and skin trying to stay attached to said dead scientists waist. All while Sims went off on Adler. 

The man’s only defense is that he—Gusev, that is—slipped.

Sims used Case as his witness, pointing at him as Sims was in Adler’s face about to wallop his old friend. The only indication the man gave at his friend’s anger was the mild frown on his lips.

Except, Case didn’t do what Sims wanted. Agreeing that Gusev slipped. Sims snapped his head from Adler to him faster than blade cutting through bone(Not funny. ̷J̷̷u̷̷s̷̷t̷ a̷  ̷l̷̷i̷̷t̷̷t̷̷l̷̷e̷.), face practically all snarl. Adler raising a brow in reaction behind the man’s back at Case’s defense.

Sims cursed at him almost nearly as much as he did Adler once he let a few seething breaths in(“Another copy of you, Adler. Fantastic. Both of you trying to bullshit me…?!”) before he couldn’t stand the sight of them—or the body—anymore. Despite Adler’s weighted words towards Sims it became personal, it actually making the Captain pause before he walked away, a shake of his head and a disbelieving huff through his nose. (“Everything and everyone is personal to you with how much you’ve done the same dance. Well. I’m not willing to do the shitty Macarena with you anymore!”) 

Case looked out from the open back of the truck, watching the scenery of fire and tanks in the distance—explosions and gunshots and stealth bombers dull in his ears. 

“You don’t have to thank me,” Case dismissed as he wiped his face particularly roughly. Without a mirror, he wasn’t sure how much blood was still caked on—but he could feel it. “Gusev was a danger to millions. I understand.” Adler hummed, Case glancing at the man to see a brow quirked above his shades at the words. Surprised? Why? “…have you done gruesome kills before? Or was this a special case for Bell?”

Adler’s cigarette was in his lips for a quick puff as he answered, the smoke being breathed out with every word.

“Vietnam had no shortage of those. And it was easier to just throw him in there since we kept waving the threat in his face,” Adler did a half shrug, as if it was normal to throw people into propellers out of convenience. A walk in the park for a man like him. America’s Monster. (“It’s gonna scare you off if you see it?” No. He isn’t scared. He’s sure now where a man like Russell Adler lies. ““̷S̷̷e̷̷e̷? ̷H̷̷e̷’̷s̷ ̷a̷ ̷m̷̷o̷̷n̷̷s̷̷t̷̷e̷̷r̷, ̷l̷̷i̷̷k̷̷e̷ ̷t̷̷h̷̷e̷ ̷r̷̷e̷̷s̷̷t̷ ̷o̷̷f̷ ̷t̷̷h̷̷e̷̷m̷.”)”Bell had a part to play in that, true. But I would’ve wanted the man dead anyways. He made a deadly weapon that will kill millions. What happened to Bell in that mission however, sealed his fate—Sims or no Sims. Bell would’ve done the same for me. Maybe worse.”

Case frowned in thought, looking down. He knew Bell was loyal to Adler—greatly. He didn’t doubt Adler’s words; her loyalty was sound, based on what he’d overheard when Sev asked her, after the casino mission, prodding for more details. Felix in the living room, as well, while he and Marshall were in next room over. (“Nosy,” he heard her mutter as she passed by him, knowing innately how much he strained his ears, getting as close as he could without appearing obvious. Marshall trying to make light of her word and tone, said animatedly “What? I didn’t do anything, I swear!” Bell wasn’t amused, her brow rising at Marshall before moving on. At least the cold shoulder was mutual between them both; Case didn’t like her eyes on him anymore.) How she expounded that Adler saved her from the CIA, not wishing for someone like her to work with them despite other KGB operatives under their paycheck. Might’ve had to do with her connections to Perseus—and how she’d discovered those plans, Case guessed. That the man was the only reason she was alive, and why she’ll reciprocate everyday for him for that. 

“She doesn’t like me much,” Case confessed before he could rein in the words. Before he could get bewildered at the action and stop, he kept going with far much more emotion than he planned. His verbal deconstruction of her behavior spilling from his lips, now that there was somebody to tell—Marshall was his friend, sure, but Case always was the listener between the two of them. He didn’t mind. “She finds me odd, despite also saying we are similar somehow.”

Adler’s brow quirked, a smirk pulling his lips.

“Oh? That’s strange. After the stunt you pulled in getting me out the black site, you would’ve earned her respect there; Bell can be hard to please until you prove herself. Although,” Adler nodded his head absently while taking a drag, “she doesn’t like Marshall at all. Can’t say I blame her; she holds on to grudges tighter than a knuckle duster in a bar fight. Spiteful woman,” Adler chuckled softly to himself as he exhaled the smoke. He shifted on the seat of the wooden bench, the truck driving over bumps and sand hills that could be felt between them both before Adler faced Case again, shades hiding his eyes—yet Case couldn’t help but feel as if their gazes were meeting. “Never thanked you for watching out for her down there. Or trying to with the circumstances. Pretty calm despite having to inhale gas as part of a mission.”

Case’s skin pricked. 

“It was a necessary mission. Marshall needed us,” Case evenly answered, acutely aware of the subterfuge that accompanied Adler’s reputation, Marshall had fumed about it—made a show of establishing authority over it. “And I did my best with Bell but… the circumstances of her disappearing when I came back were unforeseen. I am sorry for not doing better.”

“…mm hmm.” At the absent hum, Case felt a spark of offense. “Speaking of Marshall, how’re you going to break it to him about Gusev? You’ve been friends with him for years, right? Based on what I’ve seen, his stomach might turn at that.”

This felt familiar.

“If it was ordered to do something the exact opposite of what Marshall would do, would you do it?”

Ah. That was why.

Adler was doing what Bell had. But unlike him feeling seen by Bell, with Adler it was different. It was as if… it’s an unmasking.

“I don’t see why Marshall would be involved at all in changing the events that happened.”

“And what event is that?” Adler asked, leaning slightly forward to tap away the ash of his cigarette.

“Gusev slipped.”

It was silent as Adler searched his gaze, for what, Case couldn’t say. When Adler appeared to have found what he was looking for, both his brows rose up—the most surprised he’s seen on the stoic man. 

“That he did, Case. That he did.” His brows settled, a victorious ghost of a smile around his cigarette as he leaned back in his seat. “You’re one hell of an interesting soldier.”

(“I think you’re going to make one hell of an operative, Case One.” At whose dispense? After whose sacrifice? ̷H̷̷i̷̷s̷ ̷b̷̷r̷̷o̷̷t̷̷h̷̷e̷̷r̷ ̷w̷̷a̷̷s̷̷n̷’̷t̷ ̷s̷̷u̷̷p̷̷p̷̷o̷̷s̷̷e̷̷d̷ ̷t̷̷o̷ ̷d̷̷i̷̷e̷. “We were the first and last trial volunteer.” No he  ̷wa̷̷s̷̷n̷’̷t̷!)

He had to say it. He had to.

He couldn’t hide this anymore!

Case opened his mouth like he did with Woods, about to spill everything—just as how Gusev’s guts were actively being spilled on the runway—to confess. Bell had already seen him and Adler is looking through, he has to say it!

What happened a decade ago—

We can’t talk about it, the female voice in his head interrupted harshly, his vision turning orange and yellow at the edges and another sharp pang shooting through his temples in warning. Remember? 

(“Remember your training, Case One. You can never speak of the Cradle program. Or the Pantheon division. Never. Doing so could have unpredictable consequences.”)

“Here. Have a smoke, Case.” Case blinked away his blurry vision to find Adler offering a cigarette from his expensive brand, he either hadn’t noticed Case’s mental struggle or made a point in not mentioning it. 

Case took it and put it in his mouth dutifully, not bothering to say he didn’t smoke to Adler who was already lighting it for him. Taking an inhale through a cough. Not the worst substance his lungs have been subjected to, still unpleasant. 

“The expensive brands are stronger.” Adler said in answer to Case’s difficulty, but his tone suggested that he wasn’t ignorant to Case’s inexperience. More… knowing. “Enjoy it, Case. We have quite a ways to go.”

Case frowned at the cigarette in his hand, eyes narrowed at the ashes already gathering at the end. 

This was one of the strangest orders he’s ever received.

Because Adler didn’t offer it, did he? 

▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▛ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▟ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚

“You’re quite adept at this. Using a virus and handing the floppy disk carrying it to Sevati, not only to take out their radar but for their computer and security system to do what we please. Leaving no stone unturned, as they say.”

“I do love it when you give me random compliments, Felix,” you responded with a smirk, typing away on the laptop and maintaining your balance on the moving helicopter as they flew over the Vorkuta camp, awaiting on the others as they facilitated the ground assault. “Although I can do without the surprise in your tone. Lessens the impact of your words. You should work on that.”

You could barely hear Felix’s mutter through the comms as he manoeuvred the helicopter around in the cockpit, but you were able to catch “Arroganz ist die Schwester der Einsamkeit.”

Perhaps too soon with an inner wince, still in mental recovery due to the gas (not so much hallucinations outside of the auditory ones your mind foolishly created when in the safehouse, or when using the training course. Still, no T.V. The nightmares haven’t stopped.) but Felix meant no harm, innocently blunt, and you can roll with the punches easily enough with humor as your defense. 

“Awwww, what happened to you saying us traitors of socialist regimes should stick together?” you replied back in German. “Here I thought we had a connection, Товарищ.”

“Putting words in my mouth and twisting it, I see,” Felix replied with distaste as he circled back around towards Vorkuta, spotting that they were still in the clear from any more possible reinforcements. “Fabrication, typische KGB.”

You snickered as you typed and watched the security footage, monitoring closely that Adler and the team below were on the right track. Clearly hearing the man was just putting up a front to keep up their false rivalry, the back and forth of using words such as ‘adept,’ ‘acceptable,’ ‘adequate’ or ‘satisfactory’ when it comes to judging the others’ more than mediocre skills. God forbid you actually tell the man you’re impressed at his abilities without even having to go out in the field; It’d ruin this whole dynamic you’re going for!

…perhaps you were a little shit, like Woods always says. 

Adler only implies “bratty” to you. (Don’t focus on what happened the night prior after Russ told you the news of Gusev’s death. Your cheeks pricked anyways. Adler doesn’t always  lie. Not much anymore.) 

You couldn’t help it with Felix however. You liked the man. Didn’t mean you trusted, too soon for that (you only trust one man implicitly and wholly, always. Ironic due to the circumstances around it, you realize, but you’ve had a decade to accept it. You’d give Woods second on your very small list, however.) but you genuinely enjoyed the man’s presence.

And a fellow intellectual! Those were becoming rarer and rarer nowadays. 

You couldn’t help but overhear the conversation between him and Sev the other night after the casino mission(Case did as well but he just stood there saying nothing and not adding onto the conversation, soon leaving after Felix told him “Not now, Case.”) as you were entering back into the house, only to pause. Passing by a self-righteous Sev and the bowed head of Case(Look at him, a mere shadow on the wall—wishing to not be seen by me. Too fucking bad. ▛ Ï̵̙͖̓ ̸̝̬̏š̷̠̭è̷̞̖̔e̵̢͝ ̷͔̈́y̸̱̰̿̅õ̵̟̕u̵͙͎̅̈́.▞), you grabbing a book you left on the table near the bay windows. You got near Felix, who was still warming himself by the barrel fire, and leaned your back against the banister. 

Once he protested about your presence and not wishing to “puff our peacock feathers” right now, only for you to say that you weren’t as you turned a page—he calmed, brows relaxing as he turned back to looking at the fire in thought. The only sounds between you two being of the crack of the fire or a turning of your page. It didn’t take long before Felix decided to speak first about your choice of reading. Making a snide comment about Nietzsche with you replying with a brow raised if he had something against the Ubermensche philosophy, before you winced. The meaning of what it was meant for, and Felix’s concerns about himself, not connecting until you said the sentence. Too soon; you opened your mouth for an apology—only for him to snort at you. Yes. Snort. Felix. Instead bringing it back to you if you disagreed being called Sharikov from Bulgakov’s Heart of a Dog. It made you smile. 

It didn’t take long for the both of you to go back and forth, all the authors that had commentary about their home country’s view of communist and socialist ideals. The conversation shifting somehow to Adler and his plan of contacting someone from CENTCOM.

“How likely do you think that this contact will assist?”

At this point, you joined Felix already closer to the fire with your book in the waistband of your pants, the lighting too poor to continue on reading, anyway. Staring at how the flames moved with a pensive yet confident expression.

“Adler is always two steps ahead. Despite his…well, what others call recklessness—he plans very well.” 

“You respect that about him,” Felix pointed out, making you hum distractedly, your smile turning a little softer (“Are you enjoying this? You’re risking the entire operation unnecessarily.” “It’s not unnecessary, it’s calculated.”). “…very intriguing. A love story between a CIA agent and ex-KGB. Was that possibly another reason the CIA wanted you dead and for Adler to do it?”

You snorted, hands rubbing to get more heat. 

“We’re not like Sev you know. Shame about what happened with her though...” You frowned, momentarily thinking of what you would do if Adler died. You moved on quickly to not dwell on it. It’s a thought you’ve had often, you already knew how you would react. “And if you’re hinting if I was trying to seduce him… no. I wasn’t. I just felt that him and I… we clicked. It’s odd. Not many can feel a connection like this—knowing the other innately and how they think. It’s like…we knew each other for years.” You’re getting too close. You had to be careful. Your lips formed a sharp smirk as you met Felix’s eyes over the fire. “Too bad for the CIA however; Adler didn’t want to play their game.”

“Two steps ahead,” Felix reiterated. 

You nodded. “Two steps ahead. I aim for the same. Maybe even three.” You couldn’t help but add, cocky, “that may be my Soviet side trying to prove my superiority, however.”

The man didn’t roll his eyes but it was a near thing.

“Arroganz.”

Your grin sharpened.

“Спасибо.”

When the two of you went in, Felix added a quiet yet heavy “thank you.” You threw him a mischievous look over your shoulder, brow raised. “Whatever for? Us traitors need to stick together.”

Your eyes carefully watched the security footage, the ground team now having infiltrated the sub-levels of the former gulag. Until they split. Case—by himself; your eyes narrowed before removing a transmitter, disguised as a landline phone, from your jacket to listen in.

You weren’t joking with Felix. You liked maintaining a three-step lead.

And after what you saw when Marshall, Adler, and Case came back from Kuwait—straight after the plan being made for Vorkuta (Case stopped you after you… “spoke” with Adler by the cliffs, catching you when Adler has already gone up to their room. Looking desperate, which made you pause from your disgusted sneer on your face. Except, he didn’t say anything. Opening his lips as if he would talk, but nothing coming out. Only stating with a pained voice, “There’s a reason I’m like this. I can’t say but…you…” his hand was trembling around your bicep as you watched the man, your pity only growing. Along with suspicion. You watched his fingers furl, before unfurling again. Shaking. Your gaze trailed up his arm to study his expression, lingering at the slight crook of his nose, half healed cuts and light bruising from Kuwait. He was either struggling to find the correct words, or struggling to talk entirely—it was hard to tell. “You…you see, don’t you?” he managed to get out before his eyes shuttered and he stepped back with a quick shake of his head, apologizing before quickly leaving. Something happened in Kuwait. You could tell when Adler made his report and talked to you on the cliff. You saw Case the other day. You thought you did. You’ll make sure you do.) you swallowed your fear and went down to the bunker. (Don’t go in the red room. A b̷̜̏e̵͙̙͋ḻ̶̨̎͠l̸̼̒echoes in your head.) Tinkering with the technology down there along with stealing from Felix’s stash. Perhaps it was an invasion of privacy (It didn’t matter a decade ago. It doesn’t matter now.) but you’ll do everything and anything to keep Russell safe.

Even if it means bugging comms and the whole house.

You activated the transmitter, although knowing you already couldn’t hear them due to being underground—layers of dirt and concrete tended to be effective in blocking transmissions—this would ensure that you could check the audio later on. 

You don’t trust Case on his own.

It didn’t take long; they soon collected Harrow, hauled her back onto the chopper and spoke over her head—talking around her about making her talk. 

Adler took the seat next to you, shoulder to shoulder as you kept working on your laptop. His warmth and presence grounding you despite your mind running through every possible scenario(“Let’s run through scenario 1A.” “Christ, what’s happening with her?” “Bell, we’ve got a job to do.” Your new job is to live.). Including as to why Harrow had a smug smirk on her face looking at Case, who had her next to him on the chopper, keeping her in place closer to the cockpit with Marshall on her other side.

Only for her eyes to wander towards you, brows furrowing deeply. The stare wasn’t bothering you, but it seemed it was bothering Adler; he leaned forward on his knees and moved closer to you, taking up your space—as if to shield you. You didn’t mind, her stare beginning to discomfit you yourself.

“What’s got you staring at her so hard, Jane? Why don’t you instead focus on the information you can tell us on the way to our hideout? Make this easier for us. Mostly for you.”

Harrow’s eyes flickered towards the man, you recognizing the hate in her gaze that rose before it quickly subdued. Her focus flickered back onto you, turning something over in her head before there it was. A flicker of recognition.

Great, you thought sarcastically.

Harrow’s smile was like a knife, cutting.

“I never thought I would see the day of a corpse walking around. Aren’t you supposed to be rotting in the ocean somewhere?”

“Too bad for you lot,” Sev cut in, standing and holding onto a bar to leverage her balance against the moving helicopter, eyes grimly satisfied on behalf of you(you did like the woman. Friendly. Cunning. Focused on vengeance. Although hasty. A danger.), but the subject matter made an awful feeling churn within the recesses of your stomach, the heavy laptop on your lap grounding you as your mind raced. “Adler here decided to say ‘fuck you’ to your ridiculous orders of killing someone who helped you.”

“A lot of those nowadays,” Marshall added, side eying Harrow with that angry yet betrayed look in his face. Still hurt. Still sees his friend when it’s just an enemy(A lot like you. Is that what you looked like? Solovetsky —you said Solovetsky—). You turned your eyes back to your laptop, biting your inner lip—pausing when you felt Adler’s hand over your knee, a comforting squeeze before standing up and joining Sev on the bar. The touch not lost on Harrow whose intense stare seemed to burn towards your knee, her brows pinching deeply with a frown to match. “The CIA seems to like throwing and using people away. I won’t be surprised if it was Pantheon’s influence too.”

Harrow released a disbelieving chuckle that you couldn’t hear over the whip of the rotor cutting through wind; you could only tell by the shake of her shoulders—the odd smirk pulling the corners of her lips, shaking her head.

“So naive, Troy. You can’t blame the Pantheon for everything. Always having to believe the best in everything, even in the previous CIA. But you,” she faced back towards you, pivoting as much as she could, and despite you trying to ignore the manic woman, you lifted up your eyes over your laptop to meet hers. Her smirk was lopsided as she stated your name—yours, not whatever the CIA had made up for you, not Bell. A sour taste in your mouth. “Or… as we liked to call you—Bell. What an interesting name. It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

R̵̨̠̣̣̥̍̉į̷̳͖̰̀͆̿̽ṇ̴̻̦̏̄̔g̵̯̑̈͗̅̕

                                                R̷̪͒̅i̶̮̲̎͗ņ̶̼͝g̸̱͍͆

                      R̴͎̳̽̌͂̕͠͝ḯ̵̢̱̖̹̮̱̩̑͂̀͑͘͝n̵͉̗̈́̔g̵̣̣̊

                                                           R̸̢̢̛̪͕̦̜̥̝̯̘̙̗̖̣͔̝̞̘̬̍́̂̀͋̅̚͘͝í̷̧̡͔̮͓͎̲̪̖̤͙̥̘͙͇̣̯͙̣̮͎̥̏̊̓̊̽̂̆͑͜ņ̷̛̭̗̱̠̖͖̝̼͓̣̲̲͕͓̠̤͖̣̱̘̯͔̈́͗̏̀̓̑̒͆̄̄̈́̋̀̋̈́̓͂͗̚̕͝ͅğ̴̨̧̧̛̙͉͓͈̬̦̩̯̯̪̦̰̥̻͓̹͍̥̳̫̤̿͌̑̉͆͂̎̂ͅͅ

“Enough,” Adler commanded, taut and appeared as if he would knock Harrow out any moment now with the stock of his assault rifle. You focused on that picture instead of the sounds in your head, your fingers trembling over the keyboard. He stood over Harrow, brows deeply pinched—the only indication of his cool anger. “Stop with the games, Jane. Talk. Or even Marshall won’t stop me from getting what we need from you.”

Marshall gave Adler a look before facing Harrow grimly. The woman, instead, was staring up at Adler, with her brows up at his threat. Her eyes shifted back towards your knee, and her disbelieving expression turned into a curl of the lips—another connection made with her eyes turning viciously amused yet disgusted.

“It doesn’t have to be like that, Jane. Why don’t you start explaining—“

Harrow started laughing, throwing her head back. It was so sudden it made Marshall jump, the others staring at her in confusion but it only made you tighten your hand to a fist—slowly closing your laptop and stowing it away, cautious as you watched the woman snicker.

“Oh—this is—“ Harrow inhaled a breath, trying to calm herself down but failing as she released another short yet harsh laugh. “I can’t believe—This is a day of firsts. Really, Adler?” She asked, brow raised in cruel mischief. “You and her…? What an actual fucking shitshow because of course a man like you would,” she spat, all rage and bite in that one word before facing back towards you with a gaze filled with sadistic spite. “But of course, you always had a jó̵̦̰̤̈̑͑́̍̍̔̌̒́̀͘͜͝b̸̞̹̼̟͔̰̠͖̫̥̼̓̇̈́̋̀̀̑̎ͅ—“

A metal thwack met a skull, Harrow’s head falling towards her chest, her body held upright in her seat by the seatbelt alone.

“Woah, man! What was that for?!”

“Jane has a mouth on her,” Adler answered easily, fixing his gun and moving back to sit by you. You releasing a breath you did not realize you were even holding (She almost said it. The phrase. “We got a job to do.”) as Adler put his hand back on your knee, all casual and languid. Not like he just smacked the shit out of someone. You try to ignore how touched you’re feeling at how quick and protective he is now. (Adler from a decade ago wasn’t. Not much. Not like this. Russell is yours. Is he? You haven’t spoken at length about your suspicions of Case. Or what Adler may be planning from his own observations he’s had with you about Case. Stop it. You’re not like Case.) “She’ll keep talking and making up stories to get you wound up.”

“Wonder where she got that from,” you managed to quip. A distraction.

Sev raised a brow at the light shrug Adler did in response to your words.

“Well, well. How many protégés do you have laying around, Adler? Who also want to kill you.”

You’re loose tongued, you think. You’ll blame it on the gas as to why you answered the way you did. Plus the threat of sudden disclosure, your blotchy past nearly staining the fragile team-balance.

“Two for both, isn’t it?” you asked Adler genuinely, rotating your head towards him and all. Adler threw you a dry look beneath his shades. You tried not to shrink. You failed. Damn gas. Damn his icy blue eyes you can get lost in just like the touch on your knee. (Just like on the cliffs near the boulders when Adler said “I handled, Gusev. Just like I said, Bell. He’s shredded into tiny little mad scientist pieces. The gas won’t get you, лапушкаka. I got you,” he said to your ear, all low, breathy and husky to your needy and torn mind. His scent all around you, with your back to his chest—of course you grabbed him roughly and kissed him when he speaks so sweetly of another’s death.) “Too much?” You let out a short hysterical laugh, hand to your head, shifting in your seat to hide what’s rising low in your belly. “Not the same across the board when it comes to being in your bed, though.”

Felix made a choked sound even you could hear from the comms, the most he’s spoken since Harrow got in the chopper. You suddenly feel like you’re twenty eight again, cheeks heating as Sev let out a whistle, Marshall looking uncomfortably towards the floor. 

Adler didn’t have much of a reaction, only staring at the side of your head. His stare only making your cheeks prickle more. He can see. (The kiss turned wanting, your hands wandering to the base of his neck with beautiful wheat tresses and the other to his lower region. He made a delectable sound from the back of his throat that lit a fire in you. You wanted him here and now. All your fears of Adler from a decade ago gone when Russell turned the both of you, more hidden behind the boulders of the cliff under the moonlit sky. Shushing your whines softly or with a kiss and a burning touch from your abdomen to the waistband of your pants, quickly feeling out how needy you are already with his hands that make and unmake you. Have made and unmade. You don’t care, you want him now—not just his hands. Russell stopping you with a raspy chuckle, his large hand over your own on the tent of his pants. “Not now, Bell. Let me take care of you. Besides,” the both of you were laying against the rocks and pebbles, digging into your back but you didn’t care, desperate. Stilling only when Russell’s words breathed against the shell of your ear. “You’ll sing a little too loud if I fuck you. The kids may hear.” A kiss to your ear. The insertion of another key to unlock, make you break open with a gasp as he picked up the pace. “Is that what you want, Bell? Нет. Ты просто хочешь, чтобы я увидел тебя в сперме, покрывающей тебя и мои пальцы, хм?” He easily switched, knowing your weakness when he spoke your mother tongue, his mouth roving from your ear to neck, free hand from roving to pinching to starting to tug your pants farther down. You’re thankful you didn’t wear jeans, you’re so close. “Только для меня. Я тоже могу тебя съесть, а ты можешь дергать меня за волосы, как всегда, милая.”) 

Adler sees. Because he lets out a chuckle with a light smirk that makes you shudder. Just like how he looked with your juices dripping down his chin.

“No point in professionalism now. Too many types of fucking going around since this whole business started.” 

Oh no. You do feel twenty eight again. The only good thing coming out of that gas and regression. You really want to jump his bones right now. His need to take care of you be damned. Wait… bones? You’ve turned from hysterical to very hysterical. You’re more poetic in your head than that. Oh no. He can tell what you’re thinking because you keep staring at him and assessing. In front of everyone. You see him tilt his head at you, falsely curious with his lips a touch up, hand rising from your knee to the top of your thigh in one fluid motion.

Your head’s turns so quickly you see stars, opening up the laptop once more and faking work to get him to stop. So you can stop.

You really need to get your head together. Right after he gets his hand off of you.

▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▛ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▟ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚

Marshall knew he shouldn’t listen. Just like he knew in a deep part of him, that the Jane he thought he knew never existed. But he didn’t want to give up on her, not yet.

He always admired her tenacity, her ambition—how much she climbed to be where she was today. How she opened up to him about her journey of climbing up the steep cliffs to be right below the Director of the CIA. Just like how she admired his art, his drawings—his skills. Something settled in his stomach, whether it was nerves or warmth or a mix of both he didn’t know, when he saw she had it framed in her office. The drawing he gave her in private, her eyes alight and glittering up at him as she smiled softly up at him. He thought he did a smile back. Maybe a little awkward. A little hopeful.

The hope was gone. She’d been strapped to a chair, legs and wrists tied where he and Adler were interrogating her in the storage room of the house, windows tightly closed and dark. No way for her to know where they were.

And despite how he’d tried to be soft with her, reason with her—trying to find something, she dodged the question. Rolling her eyes at him even attempting to ask her about her evil master plan. Backhand compliments that used to be true and real but instead she twisted it—how studious he was, how annoyingly persistent, how his gentlemanly behavior was getting him nowhere fast. He thought he would be able to get through to her as a friend. He couldn’t. So he stepped back with a hand rubbing his face and motioned for Adler to take over—her mentor. The one who helped her refine her skills, sharpen her attributes (there’s a bitter taste in Marshall’s mouth, a part betraying him that Adler’s wildfire spilled onto his friend— and now she’s burning) and grow in the CIA.

Except it backfired. Marshall saw the way her eyes changed, the subtle shift of her lips curling. The sarcastic amusement in her eyes were gone, more dark. Twisted. Before she settled back into the sarcastic quirk of her lips, but her eyes didn’t change as Adler tried to get it out of her. That she’s helping no one. That will she really be responsible for thousands of deaths. Jane gave the same answers she gave Marshall. Shorter. Curt. Before she seemingly couldn’t take it anymore, the final straw when Adler implored her to take responsibility. 

“Responsibility?” She strained, shaking her head at Adler whose face was leaned down towards hers, his hand around her restraint on her wrist. “You’re such a fucking hypocrite. Is that what you’re doing with your precious project, Bell? Taking responsibility?” She rolled her head to try to face Marshall who was just a few feet away with crossed arms, his brows furrowing as he met her eyes around Adler’s form. “Why are you working with Adler of all people, Troy? You know what people have said about him. A man who kept a terrorist asset alive? Against the CIA’s wishes? Do you really trust him?”

Marshall frowned, thinking back on Adler’s explanation as well as Woods and Bell’s own.

Perhaps not so much ex-KGB, after all, as actively KGB like they’d said—claimed. Maybe even part of the Perseus ring, a low level person in his circle. 

“I don’t care what Bell was before.” He maintained eye contact with conviction. “She saved the world. That’s enough. Hell, we got a guy that was actively in the Stasi while betraying them at the same damn time.”

Jane clicked her tongue disappointingly at him. 

“You don’t know the whole story, do you? You wouldn’t be so chummy if you did.”

Marshall’s eyes narrowed before shooting Adler a look. He recalled how meek the woman had been the days following the gas incident. How, in her quasi-consciousness, she’d called out for Adler to stop—something.

“What’s she talking about?”

“You’re falling for her words on purpose,” Adler stated with a shake of his head, lifting up and away from Jane with pressed lips. The man had been doing that a lot to him lately. Ever since his mistake with Bell. Disapproving shakes of his head or disappointed sighs. “She’s trying to get you riled up and distracted and it’s working. Jane. Stop fucking around, where’s the weapon?”

“Come on, Marshall,” Jane cajoles, moving her hands as much as she could to motion a finger to her head. “Think. Something isn’t right with Bell. She’ll never be right in the head.” Jane turned to Adler with a sneer. “Adler I’m sure likes it that way. Don’t you?”

He’s trying to not doubt. They don’t need this. Jane is playing them. 

It’s pissing him off it might be working.

“Jane, just—“ Marshall flapped a hand around as if to motion for her to stop but he instead let it drop with a heavy tired sigh. Adler stepped back with a stoic expression towards Jane as Marshall stepped forward with a gentle yet firm hold on her shoulder while the other was atop her hand. “Just stop. Stop, okay? Woods wouldn’t lie to me. I trust him. Please, Jane. Just tell us the plan. I don’t want things to get ugly. It never has to get ugly between you and me.”

Jane’s eyes met his—and all Marshall saw was a stranger who pitied him. Her next few lines cemented where she stood—where she chose to make her stand. A hill she was willing to die on. Marshall’s head spun wretchedly, his mind unable to discern why. 

“You should know by now, Troy. Don’t trust anyone. Remember?” Jane moved her head back, top of her head against the back of the chair with a victorious smile on her lips. “Besides. It’s too late. Whether things ‘get ugly’ between you and me or not—they’re coming for you. And the plan will continue.”

Marshall’s eyes squinted behind his glasses, his mind going to the worst case scenario as Adler cursed softly behind him.

“How would they know?”

“Move, Marshall.” Adler pushed Marshall’s hand away from atop Jane’s own, pushing her sleeves up and feeling around with his digits before Adler’s expression turned hard. “Tracker. Thought of everything, huh?”

“You taught me to,” Jane quipped neutrally. No hint of bitterness or gloating—pure discretion.  

Adler turned his head towards Marshall, hand still firm around Jane’s arm with a grip tighter than strictly necessary. It made Marshall want to say something, to suggest they afford her gentleness, as if there was a sliver of chance she might come around. But—

He didn’t. Dread, or perhaps regret, began to compound—his mood taking a turn for the worse; were they doing the right thing?

“Change of plans, Marshall. We’re going to do this my way.”

Fuck. That’s all Marshall could think as he stared down at his once friend. His once something. What could’ve been. Fuck, Jane. What have you done?

▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▛ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▟ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚

The moment you heard the words, all perfectly constructed and subtle—too hard for others to tell on Adler’s meaning but you knew, you knew—a crack of betrayal occurred that no one else could hear.

“I’ve got something tucked away that can help.”

He lied, you thought, grip on the desk you were leaning on tight as Marshall gave his permission (Adler always lies.) and began to walk out the room. You were trying to not scream at Adler, whose gaze finally turned in your direction, a frown tugging his lips. He had no right to feel upset on my behalf, he l̷̺͌i̸̛͇é̶͇̹̇d̶̰͝! 

After he took a slow deliberate step towards you, seeing how you tensed—close to bolting away—he sighed through his nose and nodded at you instead, his head motioning out the room; Woods rolled to be by the man’s side, his own gaze knowing what Adler meant and a frown of his own pulling down to hide in his beard.

“Grab Felix to help you set up the house. Even when I have everything set up, we need to keep constant hands to make sure that Pantheon can’t get through.” Your eyes thinned, mind working overtime trying to find Adler’s meaning as he kept his gaze on you—being open and respecting your distance. (A lie? Adler was always good at baring his neck at you to show trust even a decade ago. Must be. He’s playing again. He s̵̹̄͝a̸̧͍͙̣̒͛͆͌͜͠i̶̝̟̖̝͈͂̃̈́̒d̷͇̠̠̮̖͊̆͑͝ he didn’t have it.) Sev followed after Marshall as he left the room, but of course Case was staring, his brows mildly furrowed so Adler couldn’t quite speak freely like you thought he wished. “Harrow is gonna get all that I had in the back burner. I’ve kept it for situations like this.”

It’s not for you—

—you heard him say in your head, jaw clenching as you stared at Adler in silence before your gaze turned towards where they held Harrow, in the storage room. Only to loosen your grip and relax your jaw as you thought back to your openly vulnerable position with Adler when you first arrived from the lab. Adler never said he didn’t have it, only ever responded to your questions of whether he would use it on you again. 

It was never meant for you.

(Right. This is Russ. He’s Russ. Adler’s mostly gone.) 

You nodded in understanding, watching how Adler’s shoulders interestingly relaxed a pinch before you focused on Woods—asked if he had a secret cache of deadly explosives stowed anywhere. The rugged man grinned up at you, noting how you didn’t appear like a rabbit about to bolt, and rolled his wheelchair to show you, his laugh remaining as obnoxious as ever despite the circumstances. You ignored how Case’s curious gaze seemed glued to your back as you went to work. Exactly what he witnessed and assumed was far from your most pressing issue.

By the time everyone else converged in the Evidence Board Room, you and Felix were still outside the front of the house setting up; sandbags and various weapons were arranged within easy reach for your crew. It was during this that you couldn’t but keep glancing at the lack of gloves on Felix, frowning as you loaded an AMES-85.

“… sorry.”

Felix paused his ministrations of setting up the RC-XD’s, eyes wide and blinking openly at you.

“This is a first. I never thought I would hear any word that may even hint at an apology from you. I doubted it was even in your vocabulary.” Seeing at how you stayed silent, only pressing your lips and avoiding his gaze before moving on to the next gun to load up, Felix rose a brow. “What’s brought this on, meine Freundin?”

“You weren’t supposed to go on that mission. In the casino,” you elaborated when you saw Felix’s confused look in your peripherals. “It was supposed to be me. You shouldn’t have needed to break your code. I… have my own set of rules I follow.”

“Involving Adler I imagine?” Your lips quirked at how the German man clocked you. Uncaring at how openly you are when it comes to your feelings about the man, despite the irritation still simmering. Your mind calmed after Adler’s words after all. You believe him. He wouldn’t lie, not about this. Not when he brutally killed a man for you so you didn’t go through that gas again. (“Or…as we liked to call you—Ḅ̷̧̞̳̳̈̇͘ȅ̶͓̗̈l̵̥̀̌l̵̠͕̖̠̟̋́̅̚.” A bell rings in the echoes of your bruised mind, distant. Not as clear. Fading.) Felix assessed you before turning back to what he was doing, checking over all the different grenades and extra armor plates as he walked past you—the air crisp from the forest yet carrying that ocean hint from the cliffs. (You shouldn’t like standing over those cliffs so much. But you do. You should’ve died that day. The reminder that this is where you began your life anew—reincarnation. “The shot won’t be fatal. Not if you get help quick enough. They’ll have soldiers patrolling around that we may have missed. You got to do this right, Bell. You understand?”) “What’s done is done. My burden is not something you should carry, it was my choice after all. And with this assault coming to our doors, I can’t exactly lounge behind my desk while all of you do the work now, can I?”

“Ah, I see how it is.” You check the scope of an AEK-973 and aim it towards the hilltops to check the quality, smirking. A soviet gun you were distantly familiar with; it felt more at home in your hands than any American iron did. “You don’t want to feel burdened by having me—of all people—protect you and one-up you in the field. Perish the thought, Felix.” At Felix’s delicate huff, you lowered the scope and looked at him a bit more serious. “Did Sev make you change your mind?”

Felix held C4 in his hand, and double checked the detonation wires with critical eyes as he answered.

“Not necessarily. She merely… had me open my eyes on rearranging my priorities.”

“I see… and this is the result of said ‘rearranging’?” 

You caught the C4 charge he threw at you, raising your brows when you noticed he added an extra charge to make it more explosive.

“Klappe zu, Affe tot,” Felix said an answer with the common tight lipped smile he does. “They’ll have a hard time getting us with this in hand.”

You raise your brows, a sharp smirk as you threw the C4 charges up in the air a few inches, catching it in clear approval.

“без усилий не вытащишь и рыбку из пруда.” You handed them back to him with a teasing pat to his shoulder. “Not bad. If I didn’t know you any better with how you stick your nose up, I would think you would be trying to seduce me, товарищ.”

Felix rolled his eyes and moved away from your touch as you both walked around the house, headed for the backyard to prepare the resistance effort there.

“To listen to your constant jabberings even more? Your presence is barely tolerable as it is with how distracting your large head is trying to fit through a door.”

You snorted a laugh.

“I upgraded to ‘tolerable’ have I? And here I thought I would be the arrogante Frau forever. Don’t fall for me too hard like the Berlin Wall, Felix. You’ll get hurt.”

You heard Felix mutter something or another again in German, now clearly wiping away at his shoulder where you touched as if to show.

It wasn’t long after that you had everything in order, you having to swallow back the nerves building in your throat as you went back in towards the Evidence Board room or how Marshall coined it—the ops room. Adler was leaning against the wall by the CCTV’s they had set up in there, smoking before he took notice of the both of you approaching. 

He let Felix pass but he managed to obscure your view, preventing you from staring at Harrow and Marshall, her eyes glazed over as he held her hand and spoke comfortingly in her ear. 

The scene was concealed by Adler’s chest, clad in his Henley shirt, his hand lifting carefully to your cheek. Allowing you time to move. You stayed.

(You’ll always stay.) 

You didn’t flinch, but your eyes did shutter at the touch, his thumb grazing below your eye. You rolled your head forward to lean against his chest, Adler easily maneuvering to accommodate the action, placing an arm on your waist and holding his cigarette with his other hand.

“Aren’t you supposed to be doing it?” You murmured into his shirt, blinking your eyes sluggishly. The others were too focused on Harrow to pay attention to whatever the two of you may be saying. You didn’t know why you felt tired all of a sudden. As if seeing the image of Harrow, even in those few seconds before Adler blocked your vision—your body remembered just how hard it was.

Ṱ̶̃o̶̖̒͂ ̵̧̧͋o̴̖̭̕ṕ̵̘̲e̴̠̜̋n̵̗̹̾ ̷͇̍̔ṯ̵̂̏h̸̤̊̂e̵͉̰̔ d̸̨͍̘̯̟̱͈̗̫̳̓̈́͠ơ̶̮o̶̢̪̣̣̫͍͖͕̹̥̊̓͆̀̎̉́̚̕͠r̸̛̲̫͉̹̓͑.

Stop it, you told yourself, as if that would hinder your reopened wounds from spilling out, slapping a bandaid on a nasty gash. I’m not doing that anymore. It’s Harrow. It’s Harrow!

“No. It couldn’t be me,” Adler softly answered in your ear, unknowingly stopping a bell that started to chime its cryptic song. “It has to be someone she’s close to. Trusts; I don’t think Jane has trusted me for a long time.”

Adler spoke with a hint of resignation, his resolute nonchalance troubled, as troubled as the typically stoic man could be. You couldn’t see his face to confirm your suspicions, only humming in acknowledgement as he inhaled a deep drag from his cigarette. He moved you slightly back, and you lifted your head to see him motioning his cigarette towards you. The embers burnt, freshly red, glowed with new life as he exhaled from the side of his mouth, blown so that you wouldn’t have a plume of smoke in your face—stinging your eyes. The proffered cigarette prompted you to think; Adler was fully aware of how clean you are from nicotine (him being the sole reason). He however sated the part of you that stared longingly at the smoke coming out of his lips with a cool exhale into your open mouth, prompted or otherwise—he certainly wasn’t in the habit of actually offering. 

“Your favorite de-stressor?” Moving your hand up, you didn’t take the offered cigarette, but rather limply held his wrist, your touch light as you thumbed his pulse point. 

“Second,” he corrected quietly.

You rose a brow as you faced him, a suspicious ghost of a smile rising.

Adler’s answer was his own brow rising, a shadow of a teasing smirk to match. You rolled your eyes before rising to deliver a quick peck to the side of his mouth, deriving comfort from the mouthfeel of his scar, the smell of his skin. You took in his warmth by nuzzling into his chest again, fully focused on his presence. 

You will for Harrow’s increasingly apprehensive words (spilling from her lips, bleeding from her mouth) to fade off somewhere in the distance.

“I don’t need it. You know I have to take it from your own mouth for me to like it.” You preferred  the delivery of the smoke directly rather than actually using it the “normal” way.

“Taking it like that might be more harmful than the normal way,” Adler nagged, you don’t know why. He does it when you ask. Sometimes unprompted as well. It always leads to something or another. You’re not asking him for it right now however. Not appropriate. 

Adler sighed, placing his cigarette between his mouth, freeing his hand to settle on base of your neck, weaving through some of the hair there and scratching at your scalp. It made you unconsciously lean more of your weight against the man as you breathed out contentedly. “You shouldn’t be letting me do that so freely, Bell.” Your brows pulled together, pulling your head back slightly to see Adler’s visage was a hint taut, his lips more pressed than necessary around the cigarette. Before you can ask what was wrong with him, his hand roved from the back of your neck to the side of it—his thumb at the apple of your cheek as he gazed searchingly down at you, using his other hand to grab at the cigarette so he could freely talk. “… after this mess is cleaned up, we should go to Berlin.”

The perimeter alarm sounded just as you were about to question him, his sudden yet vulnerable sounding statement. Bodies sprung into action as Felix announced they were coming from the north; you stepped forward a few feet away from Harrow, your eyes on the way she seemed to be not here. Her eyes closed, murmurs and mutters escaping—hands furling and uncurling. You glanced at Case, who seemed to be watching her the same, a set grim line for a mouth. And his eyes…

Vengeful? You frown at what you saw, only for orders to be barked for Woods to be the one to finish extracting information from Harrow while the rest of them held the perimeter—or at least attempted to defend it. Woods? Alone?

“Wait!” You spoke up, now between the door of the ops room and Adler’s table that he enjoyed using for his smokes. Marshall paused giving orders to offer you his attention; the others did the same. “I’ll stay with Woods. Just as an extra measure if they manage to get through.”

“Bell, are you sure?” Woods was looking at you in clear concern, gaze flitting from Harrow to you. Strange to be involved on this side of things, for once, but you were careful not to look too discountenanced; you’ve had a decade to get ahold of yourself. 

You nodded, hand tightening on your side as you grabbed an XM4 and a Grekhova from the table, giving Adler a nod along with Woods—determined.

“I’m sure. We can’t risk anyone trying to stop us from getting the information we need. Besides,” you threw Woods a smirk that didn’t reach your eyes, but you hoped it still sent the message, “I can’t leave you with just your tank, Woods; nothing wrong with a little extra firepower. You can try to kick my ass on the Nintendo once this is over.”

Woods snorted as he returned your nod, his eyes rolling up in exasperation. Marshall mirrored the gesture of affirmation with haste. 

“Got it, Bell. You and Woods handle Jane, then, while we focus on defending the house from all sides. Close the ops room, Bell—“ 

You looked up with wide eyes as Adler strode easily across the room towards you, your gaze rising as he neared closer. Using a loose—although firm—hand on your upper back, he pulls you in to plant a quick yet searing kiss. You felt your face heat up, acutely aware of the audience in your peripherals, as you fisted around his form-fitting shirt. He leaned back, and there was a split-moment that he paused—engaging you with a soft look—before he gave you a steady nod, returning to load magazines with quick fingers. You wonder if the gas had fucked you up more than you thought, for him to offer his affection so publicly. The action used to soothe your still frayed mind. Sev whistled, loud and impressed, as Felix stared before averting his gaze. 

Marshall appeared as if he was stuttering without saying anything; he blinked himself out of his mild stupor before he continued. “O—kay, listen up!” 

You stepped back, away from the table, into the ops room and slid the metal door closed. You didn’t hear the rest as you closed the door, turning your back to it with your firearm lax in your hands, observing as Woods picked up where Marshall had left off.

It was… strange. Watching Harrow as Woods tried to guide her through, despite her obvious fear, as if she were a little girl. You didn’t catch much—with Adler distracting you—but from what you could tell from observing Harrow’s fast mutterings (You looked like that. You never asked Adler and he never explained. About the murmurs and the visions you saw, of how you must’ve been trembling in place just like Harrow was. Did you switch from English to Russian consecutively? To German when you saw the sticky notes? They gave you an adrenaline shot too. Harrow is lucky.) something had happened to her parents. Someone had killed them.

When she said the name, it threw you and Woods for a loop.

“Her parents must’ve been working with terrorists,” you lowly interject when Woods called Adler’s name, appalled - disbelieving. Your gaze cool as you flicked towards Harrow’s form on the chair (You tried the p̴̢͒̚ͅẖ̸̇r̶͊͜ã̶̞̿s̶̡̮̾e̷̢͋̕, this is what you get.) to assess. “Adler doesn’t touch innocents.” You know that. You know it intimately. 

You must’ve talked louder than you thought because before Woods could agree, Harrow voiced her denial, her voice thick and desperate, you thought.

“No! You—you don’t know anything!” It’s as if she forgot to breathe between words; the hatred, force and desperation in her tone turned her voice hoarse—and bitter. “Adler killed my parents. You must know it. What he is, what he’s doing to you despite his shitty charms. He used you—and is still using you! Adler is disgusting—a wretch.”

You gritted your teeth, tightening the hold on your gun while Woods defended you.

“Stop it, Harrow! Bell isn’t brainwashed anymore! That’s not what we should focus on. How are you so sure it was Adler? You were a kid.”

“N-No…” a slight dither, “it was! I know it was!”

“How can you be so sure?”

Harrow was hesitating, you could tell by just how deeply disturbed she appeared at the possibility—the chance that the Pantheon used her desperation against her. The desperation of  a child that, for years, had tried to find a reason for her parents’ death; a child that needed for there to be some kind of sense behind it, a meaning.

The ever-growing pool of hateful pity rose in you, your expression turning colder when the woman started panicking. So lost. So fearful. Confused. At war with herself and her supposed convictions—denial that she got played in the first place like a fucking third hand used up doll with hope to make things right or being the self righteous bitch that thinks she’s in control.

What’s gotten her into such a tizzy? You watched as Woods’ own pitiful expression towards Harrow, a touch of concern as her eyes shuttered in time with her feet moving on the floor, as if she wanted to flee; he muttered about her rising heart rate as he felt around the pulse point in her wrist. Your fingers were clenching and unclenching around the fore-grip of your XM4, strong contempt at her - what she’d done; framing Adler for the intelligence fuck-up that was Panama. And yet Woods still had this concern, concern for who he thought Harrow was, only for it to be lie. Despite how the man put up a front, you knew his inside was soft. He had to be. 

She’s acting like they gave her multiple doses. I wasn’t this pathetic . Giving all this information so easily.

You couldn’t stand the sight anymore; you turned your focus, instead, to ensure the door of the ops room remained secure. You moved things from Woods’ desk a few feet away against the wall—out of the way—and turned his desk over, careful in your effort to not disturb the… interrogation exercise, forming a makeshift blockade. A bit of cover if the ops room were to be compromised.

Woods had his full attention on Harrow, too busy focusing on a seizing Harrow, coaxing her to say the last bit of information needed—where they’re deploying the Cradle, to bother nagging at you about messing up his stuff. You double checked his own weapons, too, and ensured that they were loaded and serviceable before placing them within reach of him, going as far as propping the shotgun carefully between the outside of his thigh and the sides of the wheelchair to hold it. 

She passed out? Woods’ sharp curse when you handed the weapon off prompted your gaze to lock on her, and you saw how Harrow’s head was completely forward and slack. Woods gave Marshall updates as he tried to shake the woman awake, firmly insistent that they weren’t done yet—as if she could hear, somehow—and that she needed to push through it. Your lips curled, sneering. She expects to lead the CIA when she’s so feeble in mental strength? This ambition of hers is just a pipe dream; she’s nothing more than just a mere ant. (Unlike you. You were better than that, you were going to be P— -̷̛͎̏̕) 

You would’ve grabbed the woman’s hair by the scalp and slapped her if Woods hadn’t handled it; she finally spilled just as separation wore off, her true self coming through—the version of herself that’s just a smug bitch who thinks she knows it all. Too late for her—Woods had managed to get the information that you needed.

Your ears pricked at an explosion near the ops door, the metal groaning from the impact. Getting behind the desk you turned over, you turned the pin of your XM4 to fire and held it ready, soberly anticipatory.

“Woods!”

“Shit!” Woods begun to roll his wheelchair back, and away from Harrow, to support you. Pantheon’s attempts to breach the room were audible, and it was clear that they were making headway, each attempt less fruitless than the last. A split second of shuffling has your eyes widening with realization—they were going to place a breaching charge.

The gun was held steady in your arms, your scope aimed towards the ops room’s point of entry as you crouched behind for protection—at the ready. “Yeah, I got it! I need to make a quick call to Livingstone!”

The silence was eerie, your heart hammered and you didn’t dare tear your gaze from the door. You forced yourself to breathe evenly and hoped that Woods would get the message out in time. 

“Woods,” you said in warning, hearing the heavy footfalls right outside the door as soldiers cleared back, preparing for the detonation. 

“Gettin’ there,” he barked. 

Just as you heard the distinct transmitted tone from the transponder, Woods just managing to get the message out, the Pantheon blew open the iron door; soldiers filed in—the lead equipped with a riot shield. 

You focused on the man with the shield and Woods used his shotgun, his sights set on the others filing in from behind the lead soldier’s sides, forming a human barricade between you—and the exit. 

There was only one way out.  

You shot the man’s feet, Rules of Engagement damned, and downed him just as you needed to reload. No time. You took out the Grekhova as more soldiers came in, cursing at the seemingly constant waves of them, and scrambled back—away from the desk—due to the speed of their flanking. 

Woods faltered in his support, cursing as he had to throw his shotgun away and reaching for his pistol, M1911, as you came by his side to support him. Seeing how soldiers were getting closer and closer. Hand to hand it was. 

You took a sharp inhale, lunging forward and closing the gap with the soldier in front of you before they could react. Your hand shot out, gripping their wrist and turning it down. The soldier snarled and tried to twist away, but he was so slow. 

You struck his wrist with your free hand, aiming for the grip on his firearm to loosen, succeeding. You grabbed it and gave a swift kick to his ankle, his balance faltering. That’s all you needed—you shoved the barrel of his XM4 under his chin at an angle, pulling the trigger as the fully automatic firearm sprayed into his skull. There was little time to think about the sensation of warm blood splattering down the side of your head. Shot in the head with his own gun. You scoffed, he shouldn’t have lost it so easily, then. Shouldn’t have let you get so close; a firearm’s only good when there was a bit of distance. 

Before it could fall, you grabbed the corpse by the shoulder straps of it’s armored vest, struggling to keep the dead weight upright as you shielded yourself. 

Bullets continued to come your way, your eyes hard as you tried to cover Woods, too, as he kept shooting with his pistol. You free your dominant hand, using the back of your palm to quickly wipe the slickness of sweat and tacky blood from your cheek before reaching for the corpse’s thigh holster—a GS45 fastened there.

Freeing it from the holster, you messily cover your right, conscious of the magazine capacity, as Woods handled your left. The longer you held the corpse, the more your arm started to burn with the effort—easily over eighty kilos of dead weight. 

It was unsustainable; a sharp surge of irritation when the pistol stopped firing, punctuated with a dull click.

“Ебаное дно!” You clicked your tongue, unwilling to give up until they had you six feet under. The soldiers advanced significantly—well within arms reach of you.

Too close.

You threw the dead body towards them, utilizing the temporarily distraction to grab a homing knife from your thigh strap. Immense pressure erupted from your shoulder, the feeling of powerful force indicated a shot was made—whether the bullet grazed you or worse was hard to tell, it hurt all the same.

Gritting your teeth, you grunted but kept your aim true as you threw the homing knife.

Bullseye. 

The blade impacted the one you shoved the body toward. Meeting an eye with a slick sound, their body joined their fallen comrades. The motion had aggravated the new injury on your shoulder, and although you anticipated the move, you hadn’t enough time to recover before the other soldier lunged at you. 

The breath was knocked out of you. You fell to the floor, hard, your teeth clacking together as the back of your head hit the ground. Blood in your mouth—you must’ve bitten your cheek— and an uncomfortable feeling jolted your bones, Woods not fairing any better; they’d torn him down, too. 

You snarled, grabbing a knife from the back of your boot to slash at the man’s ankle, your shoulder screaming as you forced the movement. He caught your wrist and twisted it, your fingers splaying reflexively at the pain, yelping. Your eyes followed the blade as it fell to the floor with a brief clatter, irritation spiking when the soldier kicks it from your reach. 

You harshly spit the blood gathered in your mouth to the side, turning your head forward with a huff. The overhead lights were a little harsher as your head spun; the reminder of the last time you were half-dead under blinding lights sat only a few feet away from you. The bitch was doubtless grappling with her returning faculties. Probably already had—she hadn’t required a heavy dose at all. Weak. 

Shame. Should’ve fucking shot her the moment she spilled. 

The barrel of a gun met your face, conviction still running through your veins despite your need to catch your breath, sweat and blood on your skin as you tried to twist out of it. You abandoned the struggle when you realized it’s in vain. Even if you were to break free of the soldier’s grasp, there were half a dozen more in the room. You were injured. 

And fuck, you seethed when you saw they released Harrow—now seemingly fully conscious. She stood from the chair, rubbing her wrists primly. You fought the urge to roll your eyes; she hadn’t even been bound that tight, certainly not to the point of pain. 

“I want both of them alive.” Harrow passed her disappointed glance from Woods to you, the Pantheon soldiers stood you up forcibly, propped you upright with a rough grip around your uninjured upper arm, likely unconcerned that you’d try anything with your other arm, blood staining through the fabric there. You didn’t dare assess the damage, you’d rather not know. Yet. 

Her eyes seemed to change into one of interest as she skimmed over the many soldiers you took down. Her voice was strange, seemingly pleased with herself. “Very interesting. You’re a special one, aren’t you?” 

You spat at the ground, Harrow’s falsely kind tone made your hackles raise, and another soldier grabbed your injured side, reconsidering their hold on you. That you might fight even with just the one soldier holding you back. Their grips grew tight on each side. 

“You’re a pathetic one.” One of the soldiers delivered a smack to your face, your eyes seeing black and stars in your vision, your legs faltering before regaining your balance. You chuckled through blood stained teeth as you rolled your neck to the side, facing Harrow directly. “You talked so easy for us… hah… embarrassing.”

The words didn’t seem to land as you wanted, Harrow—unlike how meek separation had made her—had the courage, the nerve, to attempt to grasp your face. You snapped your teeth at her hand in warning—Harrow’s brows only rising more in clinical interest rather than the annoyance you saw a smidge of. You received another blow to the side of your face, blood spraying onto the floor below you as Woods called your name in concern.

“Bell! You fuckers!” Woods tried to move his arms to no avail, the soldiers foot and hand not moving from his tattooed arms. Woods let out a growl of frustration. “Focus on me, Harrow!”

“Curious,” Harrow continued as if she couldn’t hear the man. “Didn’t know MK-Ultra was this effective. You’re the only live one we have. Adler kept you quite a secret. A dirty one too,” she added in a tone of disgust.

You panted as you tried to get yourself together. “Got a point on all this, сука? Just kill me and get over yourself.” 

Harrow blinked in surprise, mocking with a hand to her chest.

“Kill you? The only live MK-Ultra subject we have? Why would I? It’s clearly effective. You fell in love with the man who tortured you.” Harrow let out a sick and cruel laugh, your stomach starting to drop at the implications when Harrow successfully grabbed your cheeks and squeezed. The pain that prickled from the broken skin on your cheek paled in comparison to your aches elsewhere. Aches everywhere.

Your vision swam, not just from the punches, but from the silhouette of Harrow in front of you to Adler—a decade too young—standing over you in a gurney—g̶̨̦̒l̶̨̘̈͝i̴̥͚̚t̶͕͕͗c̷̢̈́h̷͉͆͠i̵͕̋n̸̨͒̕g̷̰͐ in and out of your vision. You gasped. “I don’t need to fuck you to keep you in line though. Not my type. And despite what you may think of me, I draw the line at sexual assault. But using MK-Ultra on you and maybe what I gave to Case, you’ll be my best asset.” 

“We either control the asset, or eliminate the asset.”

No…

“Leave her alone, Harrow!” Woods yelled through grit teeth, still on the floor. Harrow turned towards the man with sick pleasure and you could see the knife in her hand. “Your head must be twisted if you really think Adler killed your parents and would even touch Bell like that!” 

“Wa-wait, no. Just kill me!” You pleaded, struggling harder in the hold on you to no avail. Your shoulder was hindering you and the ache in your jaw spiked when you moved it wrong. Harrow mocked Woods, scornful gloating before she swung deftly, delivering a knife to his abdomen, your adrenaline rushing and coming two fold. Fight or flight. N̷̺̉͊̈́ö̵͈͙̻t̴̤̻̟̒ ̵͉͙̍a̴̫̬͉͑̈g̵̺͝a̵̻̐i̸̗͚̗̊n̷̨̪̤̒̓̏.

“No! Woods!” You tried to claw, you even tried to bite. But two men in this state was even hard on you. “You little сука! Aмериканская дворняга!”

“Oh?” Harrow stood up, blood slicked knife in hand. You swallowed, roughly; the blood in your throat abrasive. “That’s funny. Aren’t you the dog? You will be. This is the best vengeance. Adler killed my parents. Now I can use his Russian love as I please. My ultimate soldier. Oh sorry. Cолдат would be more appropriate.” 

No. No. No.

You’ll forget. Everything. You won’t know anybody! Again!

Your mind won’t survive this a second time.

Your chest is tight, you feel like you can’t breathe and the room is spinning. You can’t breathe.

You can’t breathe.

(̴͉̪͐̕“̸̟̩̓͂W̵͔̲̱̼̎̓e̵̦̝͋̀̈́́͝ ̶̨̮̪͛g̷͈̺͙̗̓̊̐o̶̭̪̟̒̎̅t̴̡̗̼̫̽̅̆̈́t̶̬̠͍̝̹͛̈́̇ā̴͎̤ ̸̡̜͎͔̭̄͑͝j̷͈̜̆ͅo̵̡̥̣̿́͛̆̔ḃ̸͖ ̴͙͔̭̂t̶͈͇͈̓̎ǫ̵͇̻̯̼͑͆̓͊ ̷̥̅̿d̸̥̹̝̗͂̕o̶̙̲̱͂̄̊́͑.̴̨̨̻̤͎͆̎̔”̶̦̼͕̋̐͗̒)̷͕̮͉̝̂̈́̈̔

No, you don’t! You haven’t for years! 

…right?

Right? 

The bell that was distant is now closer, over your head as it chimed to match the ringing in your ears.

“Bell!” You hear Woods call despite his grievous injury. “Keep fighting them, Bell!”

Time slips through splayed fingers, an immense pressure building somewhere in your head, pain erupting each time you come back to. You gasp.

They brought you outside, the thought suddenly registering as you feel the wind on your face, ice cold air prickling your open wounds. A Pantheon chopper in front of you. 

Your vision growing dark on the edges. You can’t. You can’t get on the chopper.

You’ll die before you do. Your vision swims, your head falling forward and looking at the ground. Chest heaving out of rhythm, gasping for air as if the soldiers hit you another time. 

The ground was shifting. From craggy rocks to puddles. From simple grass to the thick foliage that was home to mosquitos. You spot an MCI on the ground. A lone appendage on the other side. Fires on the trees like mini suns in their brightness and height.

Vietnam.

Your throat was closing tight. Needles.

“Needles?”

“No.”

“Well, look at that,” Harrow taunted, deceptively disinterested. She spoke of you as an asset, an instrument she merely needed to tune before deploying. “Classic panic attack. Don’t need to break you much, then. Hopefully you’ll still be able to take the Cradle better than Case.”

The grip on your arms loosen as your vision swims, you trying to catch your breath with deep gulps of air. You close your eyes. The sound of the chopper rotors whipping hurt your ears. 

The chopper. The only survivor. You picked up the M16—No. Adler. Adler the only survivor. The scar—

“MK-Ultra.”

“No.”

You’re more thrown to the back of the chopper than carefully laid down. The harsh metal jarring you as you tried getting your bearings, elbows digging painfully on the metal. The tread plate flooring scraping on your skin.

Hot metal atop of you. Danger close. Solovetsky.

Someone kneels on your side, grabs a wrist with gloved hands as you lay there with slow even breaths. 

Solovetsky.

Your mind supplies of a rugged voice to your ear atop of cliffs. 

“Follow what I say closely, kid.”

A plan. To live. To be.

“Bullet?”

“No. Never again.”

Adler just barely half an hour ago, looking vulnerable in his softness as he gazed down at you.

“…after this mess is cleaned up, we should go to Berlin.”

A promise.

Your eyes sharpen, a quick inhale as you use your free hand to seize the knife from the soldier’s thigh, slicing his neck before he could comprehend it. Blood spurting on you like the red blooded demon you are. A spray of red mist staining your skin, some falling down to your eyes.

Harrow and the other soldier spin as the helicopter starts to take off.

“What—“

You pounce, snarling just as the soldier takes a step towards you, moving to grab you only to fail as you use your foot—manipulating his momentum—trip him up, throwing him off of the helicopter. Your body hurts. Every part of you aches, but you don’t care. You can’t care, not with the surge of energy you feel. The euphoric high when you make them bleed.

“You fucker!” 

Your vision spins as you feel your nose break with a crack. You rose a hand to block another hit. Feet steady and secure. You give her a swift kick to the chest as she tried to punch you again, her arm swinging towards your abdomen before you terminated the attempt. She lets out a choked gasp as she falls, winded, vicious eyes staring up at you.

Her on the floor from your kick. You standing above, eyes cool with a white knuckled grip on the knife. 

Your figure of red. The Russian you are. 

You climb atop Harrow before she can even move, knife swift towards her chest. Only to be stopped by her own hands atop of yours, two inches away.

You grunt, eyes feral and hungry for more blood. Both of you have your hair matted and sweaty, stuck to skin, frustrated noises coming from you both as you fight to kill and she fights to live.

Live.

“N-no!” Harrow manages to slip through her mouth, knife growing closer. You shift your grip, hand more firmly atop the handle and you using your body weight to push. Push. Just push it in. “No…!”

You growl, teeth out and animal like noises coming out of you. Uncaring if your bloody spittle falls on the bitch’s chest as you grow closer and closer and closer.

Live!

Your knife meets chest, you see it entering slowly just as Harrow does with a yelp. 

“Never…again…!” You spit, pushing it more. 

Harrow’s head meets yours as a shock, nausea suddenly meeting the aching already settled there. The blood loss, your injuries, even the motion of the helicopter taking to the air—it makes it harder for your balance to resettle. Your head spins as you pull back, your back now on the floor as she seizes the upper hand, straddling your waist as her hands wrap around your throat. Your hold on the knife still to her chest, but you struggle without your weight behind it. Without air. You’re choking.

Harrow laughs in your face, all wild and insane—your former grim ferocity fading.

“Ha! Kill… me?! I’ll make sure… Adler sees your head on a spike… you commie bitch…!”

The helicopter is in the air, yet a new passenger arrives. Giving a swift kick down to Harrow’s back, therefore meeting the knife to her chest in a swift movement. It sinks in with the force, past skin, fat and muscle.

Her eyes are wide just yours is, your eyes shifting to beside you to see the stoic and sweaty Case. Harrow had her death rattle atop you her words a mere whisper only you could hear as she looked up at Case. Disgusting, you sneer. She got her fluids on you. Mucus, blood, sweat.

“I… made… you……”

Her last breath fanning your cheeks before you rolled the dead weight off of you. Case makes for the chopper pilot with a swift knock out and quickly gains control.

Your eyes move towards Harrow’s body, staring at her dull eyes with a ruthless look of your own. You put a foot to her shoulder with a sneer.

Never again.

You push her off with your foot. 

Down to the open water and you don’t care for what semantics this could mean.

You instead close your eyes, just like you did in Solovetsky. And feel the sun on your face as Case moves the helicopter. The sound starting to calm you.

“Live. You gotta live for me, Bell.”

“Ha…I did it, Russ. You’re welcome.” You say with a pained smile. And you say it again when you land by the cliffs, Adler rushing towards you with wide eyes—glasses atop his hair as he assessed you on the helicopter. A good thing, too; you’re not sure you have the strength to alight on your own.

His hands seeming to not know where to go, but he doesn’t hesitate. His touch ghosts up your sides, blindly assessing you with a nearly-spooked form of gentleness. He finally took a look at your bloody face, littered with cuts and nasty bruises, still with that distant ghost of a smile. Adler released a breath and brought you gently to his chest, whispering that he has you in your ear as he nuzzled softly into your hair. You could only release a chuckle, one that was more a breath of air than a huff of amusement, as you closed your eyes. You inhaled the familiar comforting scent of nicotine and leather. “I did it, Russ… You’re welcome,” you said again, more quietly than the first time, quickly fading to rest.

Russell shushed you, planting a quick peck to your bloodied temple before continuing to hold you. His hands surely covered in scarlet similar to how you’re drenched in it, spreading it to his own form.

“Yes. Good job,” Russell breathed, moving his forehead to tap against yours, blue eyes on your abused and tired face. “Rest, Bell. Do that for me.”

“O…kay…” You managed before all you saw was black. 

(An image of a bell in your mind’s eye, not moving for a ring.)

▚

▞

▚

A/N: makeyourpeacenow: There's something here to be said about Harrow, the CIA bitch, determined to end Bell, former Soviet, in early 1991 (before the Soviet Union dissolves in December)

Also Adler's two protégés fighting 🫠

Animefreak1145: Case needed a proper crash out and someone to try to defend the poor man. Even though his only defense is a woman who hates looking at mirrors who can't even defend himself from breaking. Don't let Bell get started on Harrow.(too many uncomfortable mirrors here for Bell to face) Also Soft!Adler here(interested at looking at a new potential tool/asset/operative like Case who reminds him of Bell, typical Adler) mixed with psycho. I like Marshall, just not his treatment of Case. Also ex-socialist/commie besties Felix and Bell forever and ever. Nerds for the win~ 💗 🤓Hope ya'll enjoyed this work we did together. There's other stuff I want to comment but I don't remember. Just poor Bell going through bad drug trip... 😔 And Russell making a massacre out of Gusev and willing to have bloody drenched hands along with Bell 🥰 Psycho couple for the win!

Edit: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTY5VWtvK/

Accurate. 😐

Tag List: @tr1ppylady @parkeepingparker @weirdoartist21 @gojocat247 @mayaibnlaahad @dallmaistir @salvija @kylezkie4adler @asaltryefl @stupid-stinky @aurora-windu @zachfoxx121 @pyxis-stellae @makeyourpeacenow @obsessedgremlin @butterfly-stitches @djloveyou3000

You have to tell me if you want me to tag you for each update or else I won't know. Or if you wish to be removed.

[dee-writes-anime]

God, Do Anything But Leave Me

FEATURING Toji Fushiguro x Reader

SUMMARY Toji just can't live without you.

CONTENT WARNINGS angst to fluff, talk of Toji's dead wife, mentions little Megumi, arguments, reader storms out

AUTHORS NOTE I've been absent, but never fear! I am back from my week-long trip with some Toji goods just for yall ;)

The apartment was unnervingly quiet, the ticking of the clock loud in the stillness. You stood by the window, staring at the night, your reflection faint against the glass. The air between you and Toji felt heavy, like a storm waiting to break. He sat on the couch, elbows resting on his knees, eyes burning into your back. It was unbearable—the silence, the weight of everything left unsaid, everything you were too scared to voice until now.

Finally, the tension snapped, his gravelly voice cutting through the air like a blade. “You’re acting weird. What’s going on with you?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, willing the knot in your throat to loosen. It felt like you were on the edge of something dangerous, something you couldn’t take back once it started. But there was no stopping it now.

“It’s nothing.” You lied, your voice brittle.

His eyes narrowed, his irritation creeping in. “Don’t give me that bullshit. It’s not nothing. Talk.”

The demand in his voice struck a nerve. He always spoke like that—rough, commanding. But tonight, it grated on you, fueling the fire already burning in your chest. You turned around, fists clenched at your sides, your heart pounding as you faced him.

“You really want me to talk? Fine.” The words tumbled out before you could stop them. “It’s about her.”

The look on his face darkened immediately. He didn’t need to ask who. His ex-wife—Megumi’s mother. The woman who had been a permanent shadow in your relationship, even though she was long gone.

Toji straightened, his jaw tightening. “What about her?”

“You loved her, Toji. You had a life with her. You had a family. I get that,” you said, your voice trembling but growing louder with each word. “But what am I supposed to do with that? How am I supposed to be okay knowing that no matter what I do, I’ll never be her?”

Toji stood up abruptly, the motion abrupt, his looming presence now swallowing up the small room. “You’re not her. You don’t need to be her. I don’t understand what the hell this is about.”

“You don’t understand?” You let out a bitter laugh, blinking back the tears threatening to fall. “Toji, you barely talk about her, but she’s always there! You act like you’ve moved on, but I know you haven’t. How could you?”

He crossed the room in two steps, stopping just in front of you, his voice lowering to a dangerous growl. “She’s dead. What do you want me to say? It’s done.”

“You want me to believe that?” You couldn’t stop the tears now, your emotions spilling out uncontrollably. “You had a child with her, Toji. You built a life together, and I know you loved her. I feel like I’m just—just filling in the gaps where she left. Like I’ll never be enough for you.”

Toji's jaw clenched, and his eyes flickered with a mix of frustration and something deeper, something raw and wounded. “You think this is about her? You think I’m still hung up on that?”

“I don’t think. I know!” You shouted, the dam inside you finally breaking. “You never talk about her. It’s like you’ve buried everything, and I’m supposed to just accept that? Like it doesn’t affect you?”

He stepped closer, his voice rough and sharp. “You think I want to drag up old shit all the time? You think I want to live in the past?”

“Maybe you don’t want to live in it, but you haven’t left it behind, Toji!” You were yelling now, voice breaking as the words you had swallowed for so long poured out. “Every time I see you with Megumi, I wonder if you’re thinking about her. I wonder if you look at me and wish I was her.”

Toji’s expression hardened, the tension between you snapping like a taut wire. “That’s bullshit, and you know it,” he growled, his frustration boiling over. “I don’t compare you to her. You’re the one doing that.”

“Because I have to!” Your voice cracked with the weight of your confession. “I’m trying so hard to be enough for you, but it never feels like I can be. You loved her, Toji. You had a child with her, and she’s gone. How can I ever compete with that?”

Toji’s fists clenched at his sides, his breathing heavy, like he was fighting to keep his emotions in check. “You’re not competing with anyone. I’m with you because I want to be with you, not because I’m comparing you to a ghost.”

“But that’s what it feels like!” Your voice trembled, breaking under the weight of your emotions. “You might not say it, but it’s there. It’s always there.”

His eyes flashed with anger, his patience finally worn thin. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” he growled, stepping closer, towering over you. “You think I haven’t moved on? You think I don’t care about you? After everything we’ve been through, you’re still hung up on this?”

His words stung, each one like a slap to the face, and the tears came faster, slipping down your cheeks as you tried to catch your breath. “I can’t do this, Toji,” you whispered, your voice broken. “I can’t keep pretending I’m okay with this. With you not talking, with you shutting me out every time something hard comes up. I can’t compete with someone you lost, someone you loved so much you had a child with her.”

Toji’s eyes darkened further, his lips curling in frustration, but beneath the anger, you saw the flicker of something else—hurt, guilt, maybe even regret. But it didn’t matter. You were too far gone now, the pain too sharp, the cracks in your heart too deep.

“Where the hell are you going with this?” he demanded, his voice rough.

“I’m leaving.” The words slipped out before you could stop them.

Toji’s face twisted, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. “What?”

“I need to go,” you said, your voice trembling, hands shaking as you took a step back. “I can’t… I need space, Toji. I can’t breathe in here. I can’t breathe around all these memories, around the weight of everything you’ve lost.”

For a moment, you thought he might stop you. His jaw tightened, and he took a step forward, but then he stopped himself. His fists remained at his sides, clenched tightly, his breathing ragged as he stared at you.

“And what the hell am I supposed to do?” he asked, voice harsh but laced with something raw, almost pleading. “You just gonna walk out?”

You looked at him, the man you loved, the man you had tried so hard to reach, and for the first time, you saw the distance between you, the gulf that had been widening for far too long.

“I don’t know,” you whispered. “But I can’t stay here. Not like this.”

Without another word, you turned and grabbed your coat from the hook by the door, your heart pounding in your chest as you stepped into the hallway. Behind you, Toji stood frozen, his shadow looming large against the doorframe.

The door clicked shut behind you, the cold hallway wrapping around you like a suffocating embrace. Your steps were shaky, tears blurring your vision as you moved down the stairs. Each breath felt heavier than the last, your chest tight with the weight of everything left unsaid. You couldn’t stay in that apartment, surrounded by the memories that weren’t yours, by the ghosts of a life Toji once had and lost. You needed space, air, something to stop the overwhelming ache in your heart.

But behind you, in that apartment you had just left, Toji stood frozen in place. His fists were still clenched, knuckles white as he stared at the door you had walked through. The sound of it shutting echoed in his head, each second that passed making it feel more final. You were leaving—leaving him—and the reality of that hit him like a punch to the gut.

“Shit,” he hissed under his breath, running a hand through his dark hair, pulling at the strands in frustration. He could feel the anger boiling up again, the sharp edge of his temper threatening to snap. But beneath that, something far more dangerous stirred—panic.

He paced, his heart pounding, each beat like a hammer driving home the gravity of the situation. You were gone, and he was standing here, helpless, watching everything slip through his fingers. The image of you walking away felt like a flashback to another time—another loss.

His breath hitched as a memory, long buried, surfaced. His wife—Megumi’s mother. He had lost her too, just after their son was born. The pain of that loss had carved out a piece of his soul, left him hollow in ways he never wanted to admit. But even in his grief, he had survived. He had kept going, if only for his son’s sake. He had learned to live with that emptiness, that hole in his chest. But this—losing you—was something he couldn’t live through.

Not again. Not like this.

Toji swore under his breath, grabbing his jacket from the back of the couch as he stormed out the door. His footsteps were heavy, echoing down the stairwell as he followed you, his mind racing, his chest tight with emotions he hadn’t fully processed until now.

He spotted you just outside, a few steps ahead, your form hunched over as you wrapped your arms around yourself, as if trying to keep the world out. His heart twisted at the sight, a surge of something—guilt, fear, desperation—forcing him to move faster.

“Wait!” His voice cut through the cool night air, rough and urgent, his footsteps pounding against the pavement as he caught up to you.

You froze at the sound of his voice, your heart skipping a beat. But you didn’t turn around. You couldn’t. The tears were still streaming down your face, and you weren’t ready for another fight. Not now, not like this.

“Please,” Toji’s voice cracked as he reached you, his hand gripping your arm, not rough but firm, as though he was terrified you might disappear if he let go. “Don’t go.”

His breath was ragged, uneven, and when you finally turned to face him, you saw something in his eyes that you hadn’t expected—fear. Real, raw fear.

“Toji, I…” Your voice faltered, but the tears kept coming, the pain still too fresh. “I can’t do this. I can’t keep pretending I’m okay.”

“I’m not asking you to pretend,” he rasped, his voice strained in a way that you rarely heard from him. “I just—fuck, I can’t lose you. Not you.”

The words hit you hard, and you blinked through your tears, staring at him as his expression shifted—cracked, in a way you had never seen before. Toji Fushiguro, the man who always seemed unshakable, was on the edge of breaking, and it terrified you.

“You don’t understand,” you whispered, shaking your head, your voice thick with emotion. “You’ll be fine. You lost her, and you—”

Toji’s grip tightened, not painfully, but enough to ground you both. “No. I survived losing her, but that’s it. I survived. I didn’t live. I didn’t feel anything after that except for Megumi. It was like everything inside me was just—” He paused, his voice catching as he struggled to find the right words, his chest rising and falling rapidly with the intensity of it all. “It was like a part of me died with her. But you…”

His voice softened, the roughness giving way to something much more vulnerable, something he wasn’t used to letting out. “You made me feel like I was alive again. Like I could actually breathe.”

Your heart clenched at his words, the sincerity in his voice cutting through the fog of your emotions. You had never seen him like this—so raw, so open. It was as if the walls he had built around himself for years were crumbling before your eyes.

“I don’t know how to be good at this,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion, his eyes fixed on yours. “I don’t know how to talk about this shit, about her. But you… You’re not in her shadow. You never were. I didn’t choose you to replace her. I chose you because I need you. Because I—fuck.” He closed his eyes, his breath shuddering as he fought to keep control. “I need you. And I’m not strong enough to lose you.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning, with all the pain he had been carrying for so long.

You swallowed hard, the tears still falling but the sharp edge of your hurt beginning to dull as his words sank in. “Toji, I…” You faltered, your heart aching with how much this moment hurt, but how much you wanted to believe him, to believe that this could be different, that you weren’t just a stand-in for someone he had lost.

He stepped closer, his hand moving to your cheek, brushing a tear away with a gentleness that belied the storm in his eyes. “I lost her, and it hurt. It tore me apart. But I kept living. I had to. For Megumi. For me.” He paused, his thumb gently caressing your cheek, his voice lowering to a whisper. “But if I lose you, I don’t think I can come back from that.”

Your chest tightened, a sob escaping your throat as his words wrapped around your heart. You could feel the weight of his emotions in every word, in the way his hand trembled slightly against your skin.

You wanted to be angry. You wanted to cling to the pain, to the hurt that had driven you to walk out in the first place. But standing here, with Toji looking at you like you were the most important thing in his world, the walls you had built around your heart started to crumble.

“Toji, I’m scared,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I’m scared I’ll never be enough.”

He shook his head, his grip on you tightening as though he could somehow hold you together with just his hands. “You’re enough. You’ve always been enough. I’m the one who’s not enough. But I’m trying. I’m trying because I can’t lose you. Not after everything. Not when you’re the one thing keeping me from falling apart.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your heart pounding in your chest as you looked up at him. There was so much pain here, so much history, but there was also something else—a chance, a fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, this could be different.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice raw and pleading. “Don’t leave me.”

[beansprean]

You can see now that this was all written well before s5 lmao.

My Familiar’s Ghost part 64

Masterpost

See new pages on Patreon!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Close up on Nandor newly dressed in his leather buckled tunic and fur stole as he pops his head into Guillermo's room beneath the stairs. With a polite but cautious expression, he calls out, 'Guillermo?' 1b. Zoom out to full body, Nandor standing in the entry in the background and twiddling his hands together. Guillermo, redressed in a cardigan and chinos, is kneeling on the ground in front of his bed, fumbling around with something beneath it. The nightstand behind him is cleared out, lamp on top unplugged, and a cardboard box filled with random crap sits on the bed. Nandor glances around at this with sudden anxiety and asks, 'You are...moving?' Guillermo replies instantly, 'Just upstairs! I'm a vampire now, so I should get my own room, right?' Nandor responds woodenly, 'Oh. Yes. That is the protocol.' 1c. Repeat, wider shot. We can now see Guillermo's desk against the left wall, cleared off but for a plastic milk crate with a small lamp, the Nandor and Guillermo dolls, and the glitter portrait nestled carefully inside. Nandor notices them and leans over to get a closer look, a pleased little smile crossing his face. In the foreground, Guillermo sits up slightly and holds up an empty box of band aids, squinting inside of it with a frown. He says, 'Also it turns out I do still need glasses. No idea where they ended up, but I have an old pair in here somewhere. I think.'

2a. Bust of Nandor as he straightens and turns his head back toward Guillermo, brow furrowed. He asks, 'You mean...your vision has been impaired this entire time?' Offscreen, Guillermo replies 'Oh yeah, I can barely see my own nose right now.' 2b. Repeat. A dazed look comes over Nandor's face, gaze aimed at the ground, unfocused. His cheeks flush with color and he fidgets, flustered, as memories of their fight in Panera flash behind his head: Guillermo throwing stakes at him and missing by a hair, blocking his sneak attack, charging at him with a growl. Nandor thinks to himself, impressed and more than a little turned on, '...Wow...' Offscreen, Guillermo crows, 'Aha! Here they are!'

3a. Medium shot of Guillermo from behind, Nandor's POV, as he stands up from his kneel and places a pair of glasses on his face. He says, 'Oh, wow, that's so much better.' Behind him, the countless tally marks on the wall are still visible, but the drawings and photos and mask have been taken down, leaving it strangely bare. 3b. Close up of Guillermo from Nandor's POV as he turns to face him, the background blooming into peach bokeh lights. Guillermo smiles a little cautiously, fangs on full display, hand hovering around the rim of the glasses as they slip down his nose. The glasses are oval shaped and wire rimmed - the glasses he wore when he first became a familiar. When they first met over 13 years ago. He looks up at Nandor over the lenses and asks, 'It's not too different, right?' 3b. Reverse shot of Nandor on the same peachy background, staring at Guillermo with wide eyes, lips pressed together. He says nothing for a moment as, behind him, memories of Guillermo from their first meeting flash past warmly. 3d. Waist up of them both in profile, the background of the room beneath the stairs fading back in. We can now see a second box on Guillermo's bed - a large Top Ramen box - full of the items that were once tacked on the wall. A few notebooks are scattered on the mattress along with an open glasses case. In the foreground, Nandor takes a step closer to Guillermo with a fond smile and reaches out one finger to push the glasses back up his nose. Nandor says, 'They are not very flattering, but I like them.' Guillermo goes cross-eyed watching his hand, grinning bit confusedly, and replies 'Ohhhkay.' /end ID

[yuna542]

Connected (OT8 x reader)

Part 23<-

Part 24

Pairing: (Channie at the beginning) Hyunjin & Lee Know x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Under 18 DNI! Suggestive Themes, Swearing, Threesome, Blackmailing, Petnames, explicit sexual content, deepthroating, oral (f + m receiving), public sex

Word Count: 9.2k

Note: Guess who‘s back for now. My life changed a lot during the last months and sadly I don’t have that much tine for writing anymore, even though I really want to. But somehow I managed to write another Part! Thank you to everyone who‘s still reading this story. Lmk what you think in the comments. Stay tuned 💛

On your first day of your new job as the personal manager of Stray Kids, you didn't expect to be standing in front of the man you made out with last night in a club. But it soon becomes clear that the Stray Kids don't just want you as their manager.

Will this passionate arrangement end your career?

.

When you woke up on the black couch in the backstage area, you firstly stretched to drive the tiredness from your limbs with an audible groan.

"Welcome back," you heard Changbin say and only then did you realize that your head had been resting on his lap. He stroked your hair out of your face with a smile as you pulled the blanket, which smelled familiar like home, towards you.

"How long have I been asleep?" you asked, trying to clear your head again. But tiredness kept pulling you back into a stupor, so you cuddled back into his lap.

Changbin leaned back and suddenly you saw the whole staff already walking around in the backstage. Stylists, stage technicians and make-up artists. They were all scurrying around Jeongin, Hyunjin and Felix who were were made up. Seungmin was being wired up and Han was discussing something with the sound technician.

"You were gone for almost three hours."

Stunned, you straightened up. The blanket, which you now recognized as Chan's hoodie, fell off your shoulders.

"Where's Chan?" you asked directly.

After rehearsals, you had laid down on the couch together and fallen asleep in a tight embrace. Every member of staff who had passed by had seen you bury your face against his chest and him wrapping his arms tightly around your body. Finally, Felix had carefully woken Chan up because he had to start putting on his outfit. Completely baffled, you stared at your cell phone, which showed that the concert was only 30 minutes away.

"You needed the sleep. We didn't want to wake you up," Changbin said and winked at you.

Chan finally came back into the room. He was wearing his stage outfit and it looked incredibly good. The white top was cut out at the side so that you could see his toned stomach. When he saw that you were awake, he smiled and waved as he was already being shooed towards the mirrors.

When you saw who started doing his hair there, you bit your tongue hard. Mina talked to him animatedly, taking more time than necessary as she applied hairspray to his hair, but Chan seemed distant. He replied in monosyllables, his smile polite but professional. It was strange and you couldn't stop looking in his direction as you worked through your messages on your iPad.

Finally, you rolled your eyes as she leaned forward emphatically so Chan could barely see anywhere else but the exaggerated neckline of her dress. She clung to him like a far too pink piece of chewing gum and although Chan had made it clear to you last night that he only wanted you, it stung your chest. When Chan saw your look in the mirror, he cleared his throat and held the blonde's wrist as she tried to apply a pinkish color to his lips.

"I think Lee Know and Han need your help"

Confused, she looked to the other side of the room where Jisung almost poked his eye out with the kayal as Lino kept shoving him and laughing at him.

"But I'm not finished with your..."

"That's all right. Y/N can finish it. Right?" he asked over his shoulder and when your eyes met, you realized how uncomfortable Chan was. You nodded quickly and stood up to go to him. Mina's face turned as red as a tomato as she stared at you and as she looked at Chan and the smile he gave you, she put her make-up down on the table in front of the mirror.

"Sure. I can do it."

Chan's eyes lit up at the sound of your voice and when Mina nodded and mumbled a meek "Alright...", you had to suppress a triumphant grin.

While she was still putting her things away, you picked up the brush and leaned over to Chan to pick up where Mina had left off. But Chan put a hand on your hip and, to your surprise, pulled you onto his lap in front of Mina, leaving you staring at him wide-eyed.

"It's more comfortable this way," he dismissed, his hands firmly on your hips as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Mina's nostrils quivered and she looked like she was going to burst into tears at any moment.

Chan had made it abundantly clear what he wanted, without saying a word. She hurried away and when she was out of earshot, you whispered:

"What are you doing? Everyone can see us!"

Chan leaned back, circled his thumbs over your thighs and closed his eyes, relaxed.

"So what? The staff know we're good friends.“

Stunned, you grinned and began to spread the colour on his lips.

"Friends...", you murmured with a cheeky smile.

In fact, most of the staff were unimpressed. Only some of them gave you furtive glances, but they were so busy that hardly anyone looked at you for more than a few seconds. While you concentrated on his make-up, Chan enjoyed your body against his and slipped his thumbs under the skirt of your dress. You gave him a warning glance, but he didn't seem to care in the slightest that there were other strangers in the room.

Although you were still sore in all the right places from last night, you were automatically filled with desire when you felt his strong hands firmly on your bare skin. Chan also became more restless, trying to get a little more under your dress, pinching your thighs and looking at you hungrily, as if he wanted to eat you up at any moment.

"I want you..."

"What?" you asked, unable to believe how brazen Chan was. He had thrown all caution overboard.

"I want to fuck you. Now..." he whispered in your ear and his lips brushed against your neck. Panting, you looked around, but no one in the room was paying any attention to you.

"Channie..." you hissed, barely able to push him away as he began to kiss your neck. Your hands tightened around the powder and brush in your hands. His hands traveled up your sides until they brushed your breasts.

"Channie... We're not alone."

"I don't care. I want everyone to know. They can't tell anyone else anyway."

That was true. All the staff had signed a NDA that protected the idols' privacy. They were not allowed to talk about anything that happened backstage or what they saw. It was to protect the idols and make them feel comfortable and relaxed, even if there were staff scurrying around. Overwhelmed, you tried to control your breathing and the heat in your veins as Chan continued to lavish feather-light kisses on your neck. He was wild, demanding and it took your breath away.

"You have to go on stage in a minute," you whispered, barely able to pay attention to whether anyone was watching you.

"It won't take long... Let's get out of here quickly..."

You really wanted to say yes, but reason made you hesitate. And with one look into his blazing eyes, your resistance collapsed. He also looked outrageously handsome in his stage outfit, in your defence.

But then the door suddenly opened and Felix jumped up from the couch as a group of people came into the room.

Panicked, you jumped off Chan's lap as his and Felix's family suddenly stood in the middle of the room. Hannah immediately grinned as she saw you trying to straighten your dress. Felix, meanwhile, was hugging his parents and sister, while Chan strolled casually to his parents and then hugged them too.

You grabbed your neck uneasily and it felt like his parents could only guess what you had done with a glance. But when you finally bowed, Chan's mother grabbed your arms instead and pulled you into a tight hug.

"It's so good to see you again, darling. You left so early this morning," she said and you hesitantly returned the hug.

"Yes, we had a lot to do," you smiled nervously and Mr Bang gave you a curt nod.

You chatted for a while and Chan put his hand on your lower back, which no one seemed to question. It was nice to see his family and Felix's parents were just as friendly as their son was.

Chan accompanied his parents to the staff who took them to their seats and Felix took advantage of this to take your hand and introduce you to his family.

But you didn't have much time left and shortly afterwards the Lee family were also taken to their seats.

Felix squeezed your hands and looked excited and yet the Aussies seemed more stressed today than ever before.

.

It was only two days later when you sank to the floor, panting, and looked up questioningly at Lee Know and Hyunjin. Hyunjin looked at the screen of his cell phone, Minho next to him, and they both watched what felt like the hundredth video you had shot today. Hours ago, you had already begun to regret accepting Hyunjin's offer to help you with your first dance cover. You finally had the time and energy to pursue your own passion and the dance leader and main dancer of Stray Kids immediately offered to help.

You started to work out a choreography together and recorded it directly on video in the dance studio.

However, the boys were perfectionists and worked in the professional manner in which they produced their own videos. Finally, after several attempts and recordings, after tons of sweat and pain, Hyunjin finally nodded and Lino also smiled with satisfaction while the last recording was playing on his cell phone.

"It turned out perfectly," said Hyunjin.

"The performance turned out hot and strong. That suits you well. You’re moving so smooth…“

You smiled with relief and drank the last of your water bottle. While your legs trembled with exertion, the dancers looked like they were on their way to a photo shoot for a sports magazine. Hyunjin's tank top was washed out, revealing sections of his well-trained upper body. Lee Know wore a black shirt that was so tight around his chest and upper arms that you could see every contraction of his muscles. Glancing at the clock, you sighed loudly. You had arrived at the gym at 12 noon and now it was 9pm. A normal day for the idols, but not at all for you. But it had been fun. Despite everything, they had been gentler and more affectionate with you than you were used to from them during practice.

"I love seeing you dance," Lino said, while focused on the recording, moving slightly to the music and it sounded sincere. Your heart skipped a beat and you smiled. Such a compliment from one of the best dancers in the industry was amazing.

"So that's why you put me in this dance studio all day?" you asked with amusement.

"I can barely feel my legs," you sighed and tried to push yourself off the floor and stand up again.

Before you could really stand upright, you suddenly felt Lino's strong arms wrapped around your stomach and you lifted off the ground. Giggling, you let yourself be carried to the couch where he let himself fall backwards so that you landed between his legs.

"You did a really great job... you really have idol potential," he said and began to massage your tense shoulders behind you. You immediately gasped out loud and leaned against his touch. He was damn skillful with his hands and a fire immediately ignited where he touched your bare skin.

"No, I'm nowhere near that far... You do this every day and I can't move after just a few hours..." you laughed softly and a whimper escaped you as he worked on a tense muscle.

This made Hyunjin look up and put the cell phone back down on the tripod. With a grin, he joined you and sat down on the floor between your legs, where he cupped your trembling thigh with his hands. You inhaled a rattling breath. Lee Know's hands massaging your back, his body heat right next to yours and now Hyunjin starting to massage your aching legs.

"You're already better than any of us at this social media thing... Your Insta account is growing every day," Hyunjin agreed, focusing on your trembling muscles.

"Well it's actually fun... I've even had a few requests... Ouch!" you gasped when Hyunjin caught a sensitive spot.

"That's normal. It'll get better soon. We'll take care of it..." he said, and the way he smiled at you made your heart skip a beat. Hyunjin's long fingers worked over every millimeter of your bare legs and you could hardly think straight.

"I like the shorts on you... Everyone will go crazy for you when they see the video," Hyunjin said and you let out a gasp as Lino pushed the straps of your sports bra off your shoulders to get better access to your back. His fingers worked wonders and apart from the muscle tension they released, heat began to ripple through your body and a familiar throbbing sensation was felt between your legs.

Lino growled softly and his fingers worked their way to your ribs.

"You're going to get tons of thirsty messages... I'm already finding it hard to hold back watching you... And that outfit..."

You sucked in a sharp breath as his hands traveled down your sides and squeezed your hips. You were only wearing a normal sports bra and black shorts. Something loose and you liked the way the shorts showed off your long legs. But what you liked even more were the looks from the boys who had been glancing at you intently all day. Even though they tried to hide it, to be respectful and not intrusive, you couldn't help but notice Hyunjin's intense stares, as well as Lee Know's suggestive comments and smirks when he gave you a hand, touched your hips or stroked your butt. But it didn't feel intrusive at all when they looked at you like that. Quite the opposite. They also looked at you like that when you were sweaty, without make-up or wearing oversized hoodies and sweatpants. You still didn't know why or what they saw in you, but it felt good to be desired.

Hyunjin kneaded your calves and the further he worked his way forward, the more restless you became.

But you closed your eyes and tried to relax and endure the intense touch of the two most attractive men you had ever met without paying any attention to the heat between your legs.

"Is that ok?" Hyunjin asked softly and when you opened your eyes and looked into his chocolate eyes, you were speechless. Part of his black hair was tied back at the back of his head, while the rest framed his face. His head between your legs, his hands firmly on your thighs, made you nod breathlessly. He was breathtakingly beautiful.

"What? I can't hear you kitten!" whispered Lee Know, his hot breath brushing your neck.

"Yes! Yes that's good... Feels good."

Satisfied, he grinned and before you could realize it, you felt his lips against your shoulder. He began to spread feather-light kisses over your heated skin and you feared you would faint when you saw Hyunjin looking at your body like that. Greedily, as if he had to restrain himself from pulling you towards him immediately.

"Lino..." you breathlessly escaped as he moved a hand to your throat and you automatically tilted your head back to give him more room. He sucked on every sensitive spot, sinking his teeth into your neck until you fell against his chest and your eyelids fluttered with arousal.

Hyunjin's fingers kept moving upwards until they were working your legs just a hand's width from your now wet core.

You were so turned on that you could hardly think straight.

Another whimper escaped you as the two exchanged a meaningful look, full of hunger, and Lino began to knead your breasts through the thin fabric of your bra. "Lino... Please..." you barely managed to utter, your head already in the clouds and you couldn't believe how much your body was responding to them.

Lee Know's big hands squeezed your breasts and you could feel his grin against your neck as he elicited more and more of those desperate noises.

"We're just taking care of you... It's all good. That's what good dance teachers do," Hyunjin murmured, lightly pinching your inner thigh, eliciting a sensual sound very similar to a moan. You gasped loudly as Lee Know gripped the flesh of your breasts tightly, while you were trying to squeeze your legs together so Hyunjin wouldn't notice how wet you already were.

Your panties and shorts were probably already soaked but he reacted faster, grabbing your knees and holding them further apart.

"You don't have to hide from me, princess," he cooed and his hands were right back at your core, massaging just a little next to where you wanted to feel him. Your mind tried to remind you where you were and what you were doing here.

"We're at work... If anyone comes in," you tried, sighing between them as Lee Know kissed your jawline.

"There's no one here this late except us... and even if there was..." he muttered and gave Hyunjin a meaningful grin, which he returned.

You tried to straighten up a bit, ignoring the large hands all over your body, and felt Lino's long, hard length pressed against your back.

"You want to get caught, don't you? Is that why you wanted to help? Did you plan this?" you asked, your voice thin and breathless.

Hyunjin smirked, pressed a kiss to your inner thigh and looked up at you innocently.

"We just wanted to help you... You're just too much of a temptation..."

Lee Know's hand moved to your hip and he rubbed his center lightly against yours so that all you could think about was his massive dick pressed against your ass.

"You've been paying a lot more attention to Chan and the younger ones lately.... We want some time with you too, angel."

Lino nodded and brushed his soft lips up your neck. You could only watch, overwhelmed, and felt Lee Know slip his hand under your sports bra.

For a moment, a clear thought made it through the fog of desire and you pushed Hyunjin quite a bit away from you. With his head between your legs, his lips on your skin, you couldn't form a clear sentence.

He looked at you questioningly.

"Is that the only reason you wanted to make the video today?" you asked, looking at him scrutinizingly. His mouth opened, a damned seductive red appeared on his cheeks and he didn't even have to try to lie.

You could already read the answer in his uncertain smile.

"Jinnie... You planned this with Lee Know?"

He cleared his throat while Minho just snorted.

"No way. I didn't know anything about it."

Hyunjin stroked both hands up your thighs, and his apologetic smirk immediately wrapped you around his finger. Still, you tried to look serious. He could do whatever he wanted with that face, those hands. He could have called you an object and even with the full knowledge that he would throw you away like garbage when he had what he wanted, you would give him all he wanted and more and still thank him afterwards.

But your pride made you hide your thoughts.

"I wanted to help you, really! But you don't know what you're doing to me. When you dance... I can't think straight," he murmured, his voice raspy as he looked at your body.

It wasn't fair what power he had over you.

"Our little Jinnie is pretty desperate, huh?" Minho asked with amusement as he rested his chin on your shoulder and listened.

"Are you mad?" Hyunjin asked, looking so worried that you had to put on a serious face with all your might. His hair framed his face and you could hardly think of a word other than artwork to describe it.

You looked down at him, put your foot on his shoulder and pushed him away from you. If you didn't get an Oscar for that performance, you didn't know what real acting was.

"So you're just using me... Maybe as punishment I should just let you watch while Minho and I have fun."

The panic that entered his eyes was surprisingly refreshing.

Immediately, he inhaled in panic.

"- Please, please angel... I swear, I'm so sorry... Please, I need you..." he begged, still on his knees, your lips trembling with excitement. You could hardly hide how hot you thought Hyunjin was. Begging, desperate for your body.

The man who was so beautiful that he could lure any woman or man into his bed was begging for your attention. Minho watched the whole thing with a wry grin.

He loved your submissive nature, but this was interesting too.

"Just apologizing to get in my pants, as usual. If you're good..."

You took your foot off his chest and he immediately slid back between your legs, kissing your inner thighs, caressing them and you let out a soft sigh as the arousal threatened to suffocate you. By now you knew how much he loved your thighs and legs. He was crazy about it. His thoughts were constantly revolving around how you sqished him with your thighs, he won't mind. Heck, he wants you to do that so bad.

He's always poking them or patting them. He loves when you wear thigh high socks so he can see the material squeeze against your skin. He likes to nip and suck bruises on them, almost as if marking you as his. He can't help slapping them or holding on tight all the time.

"If you don't want to, we'll stop right now..." Lino whispered in your ear and his warm fingers dug roughly into your bare chest, causing you to shake your head in panic. Hyunjin suddenly touched your cunt with his fingers and you almost moaned out loud, but he looked at you questioningly, only then did you realize that they were waiting for an answer from you. They wanted reassurance that this was what you really wanted.

"Don't stop! Please...", you said and they both exchanged a satisfied look. Then Lino unclasped your bra and it fell carelessly to the floor.

Your gaze briefly fell on your reflection in the mirror, you half-naked between Lee Know's strong thighs, Hyunjin between your legs. You thought you were dreaming. There was no other explanation. Then your eyes met Lino's in the mirror and the lust in his eyes made you tremble. Hyunjin, on the other hand, began to massage your clit through the fabric with two fingers and a moan escaped you immediately, causing Lino to freeze behind you.

The faster Hyunjin's fingers went, the more you lost touch with reality.

"She's so wet, hyung... Even through the shorts..." Hyunjin said, and you wanted to tear the last bit of fabric from your body so that he could finally stuff you with his long fingers.

"Fuck... You're crazy..." you gasped, rolling your hips willingly against Hyunjin's hand.

"Let me take these off," he mumbled and Lino immediately helped him by lifting you up by your hips. He pulled your shorts and red panties right off and threw them to the side. You immediately got goose bumps. You could see your reflection in the mirror. Completely naked, between the two clothed men, exposed and defenceless. Nevertheless, you felt at ease and when Hyunjin looked at you as if he had found a new painting in an exhibition that inspired him, your heart almost jumped out of your chest. You would never get used to them looking at you like that. "cmon princess," he says, looking at you from below, eyes sparkling with the delight of seeing you in such a position - breasts bared, eyes blurry, mind dizzy, eyes avoiding to meet with his dark ones that gave you weakness on the knees because of how beautiful he's looking at you right now.

Hyunjin's fingers were between your legs again as you watched him, running through your folds and collecting the wetness. Lino watched, kissing your neck and holding your breasts as if he never wanted to let them go.

"Oh God!"

You gasped as Hyunjin's tongue suddenly pressed against your clit.

"He's not going to help you now," Lee Know whispered in your ear and a wicked grin spread across his face. He could feel every twitch and excitement of your body. The sight of his younger member engrossed between your legs aroused him like he had never imagined. Chan had often talked about how he liked the idea of sharing you between them, but he hadn't expected to like it that much himself. Your eyes rolled back and while Hyunjin started to eat you out, as if he was about to starve to death, Lee Know put a hand on your neck and slowly squeezed, tearing you away from reality. Then you heard him say:

"Look at him... Barely responsive, addicted to your pussy. You know, Jinnie's been talking for days about how much he'd love to choke between your legs."

You instantly felt hot and when Hyunjin raised his eyes and gave Minho a warning look, your arousal shone on his plush lips.

"Hyung!" he warned and it was obvious that Minho was having a lot of fun spilling his dirty secrets.

"Really?" you asked, a little surprised.

So they were talking about you and the sex with you after all. That made your cheeks glow and you immediately wanted to know more about the secret fantasies they seemed to have about you, but you didn't dare.

Minho kissed your neck, running his hands over your stomach and smirked as he looked at Hyunjin.

"Yeah... He gets off with the thought of you sitting on his face."

"Hyung, what the hell!"

Hyunjin's face got more red every second, just like yours, and he looked caught, but you just looked at him curiously.

"Is that true?" you asked cautiously and he gripped your thigh a little tighter.

"I was thinking about it, yes..."

From the way he bit his lip, looked at you furtively and the way Minho giggled, you knew he wasn't just thinking about it.

Without further ado, you stood up and were watched by both of them as you pushed Hyunjin by the shoulder onto the floor. The idea of his face between your thighs gave you a pleasant shiver.

He let you push him onto his back until you were kneeling over him. He watched in disbelief as you placed your knees to the right and left of his head, your cunt right in front of his face and he thought he had landed in heaven.

"Are you sure?" you asked, but he just chuckled, kissing your inner thighs, looking at your face still in a way that could make you cum without even fucking his mouth. You didn’t want to hurt him because you knew how much you wanted to do it - how much you would break and use his mouth without thinking about anything else.

"You'd better thank me, Jinnie..." said Lino, who was sitting on the couch and watching everything closely.

There was now a tent in his sweatpants and he kept running his hand over it as he watched you.

"Is that okay?" you asked as you looked down at him. He looked beautiful, gazing up at you with his chocolate eyes. He could hardly get enough of the sight of you.

"Please yes!"

He grabbed your thighs and pulled you down onto his face. Even as you tried to brace yourself a little so as not to weigh him down, he pushed you down harder until your entire weight was resting on him.

As his tongue greedily licked right through your folds, you let out a pornographic moan that made Minho clench his teeth. Hyunjin began to eat you out and seemed even greedier than before. Your whole body tingled as Hyunjin continued to penetrate your hole with his tongue. You wouldn't last long, that was obvious.

His hands dug into the flesh of your thighs and pressed you vehemently against his face.

The knot in your stomach was about to burst and as he sucked on your clit, you reached into his hair to grind your pussy against his face. As your body took on a life of its own and as you rolled your hips against his face, Minho let out a gasp from the couch.

"Fuck... Better than any porn..."

Hyunjin immediately let out a deep grumble and began to palm his rock-hard cock through his sweatpants.

Being watched by Lino was a whole new experience but you liked it. It made your blood boil and Hyunjin was sure, he would loose his mind soon. Your smell, the taste on his tongue, the way your body felt under his fingers and the desperate noises that echoed in the dance studio were beguiling for him. Your hands on his hair to pull and hold to stay still as you beg for more - close to the edge yet your face is full of heat.

"Fuck... fuck... Jinnie please I can't..." you blubbered incoherently and as your head fell back and you squinted, you suddenly felt a hand on your neck squeezing hard, turning your head so that you had to look up at Minho, who had gotten up and was now standing next to you, his pants pulled down and his cock heavy in his hand. He palmed himself and his eyes burned with lust.

"Don't you dare close your eyes! Don't look at him. Look at me, kitten! I want to see you come on Jinnie's face, do you understand?"

Breathless and with trembling eyelids, you nodded. The eye contact with Minho was intense and made you climax even faster. It was as if he could see everything. Your deepest secrets and you pulled on Hyunjin's hair as he licked deeper and deeper into your core.

"Min... I... I can't take it anymore..." you whimpered, hearing only the wet sounds of Hyunjin hitting the perfect spot with his tongue every time, feeling his fingernails in your thighs and your whole body seemed about to explode as you rode his face.

Minho tilted his head a little, looked at you closely and you could clearly see how horny he was. His tip was red, his hand was constantly sliding up and down his shaft.

"It's all right. You can come. Cream his face, kitten."

With those words, the knot in your stomach snapped and the orgasm exploded all the way to your fingertips. You moaned a mixture of the two dancers' names and Hyunjin gasped as you came all over his face. He continued to suck on your clit until you saw stars and your high was savored to the extreme. Only then did Minho let go of your neck. With rattling breaths, you tried to calm yourself down, barely able to form a word.

But Hyunjin did not stop. He immediately penetrated you again with his tongue. As if addicted and without control, he pressed you further against his face, playing with your overstimulated pussy until you whimpered and grinded against his face again. It felt too good to stop, even though your legs were already shaking.

"Open up for me, kitten!"

Everything was a blur and when you felt Minho's tip on your lip, you didn't hesitate and opened your mouth immediately. He slid his entire length into your mouth and your pink lips wrapped around his shaft, making him curse.

"So pretty... So good for us. Our little whore. Suck my dick slut!", he gasped, caught up in the frenzy of arousal and passion. You immediately started to move your head and took him so deep that he bumped into your throat and you gagged.

Then he grabbed your hair and began to thrust into your mouth incessantly while Hyunjin continued to work your pussy. You didn't know where you were anymore and your body was burning like fire, but you never wanted to feel anything else again.

Minho kept cursing as he ruthlessly abused your face and fucked your throat, and Hyunjin didn't stop until the tears ran down your cheeks and you clung to Minho's legs, overwhelmed. The sounds they tickled out of you were unholy, sinful, beautiful.

But both of them also felt the next orgasm before you realized it. Hyunjin's nose bumped against your clit and just as your body tensed, Minho pulled you off his dick and held your head by the hair so you could look him straight in the eye again. Thighs trembled around his head as he pulled another cry from you with his greedy tongue. The sight was enough to make you cum hard on his tongue, squirting all over his face.

Hyunjin licked up everything he could. He tried to catch every last drop of your sweet release, but some managed to drip down his chin and cheeks as he swallowed what fell into his mouth. He gave your pussy a few gentle licks before he let you go.

"Holy shit..." was the only thing you could say as you sank to the floor next to Hyunjin.

"Was that good, Princess?" asked Hyunjin, wiping his face clean with his tank top. You just nodded, looking at him stunned, and grabbed his face to pull him towards you, pressing your lips to his chaotically. You could still taste yourself on him and he immediately pulled you closer by the hips to return the kiss stormily.

"I'm getting impatient..." Minho said and knelt down next to you while you two made out like teenagers in heat. With wide eyes, you looked at him and then at his massive length in his hand. Your body reacted immediately and your pussy pulsated excitedly.

He leaned towards you, grabbed your face, kissed you, slipped his tongue into your mouth and grabbed your ass, which he kneaded hard before his other hand moved between your legs and penetrated you with a finger up to his knuckles. You moaned into his mouth and your tongues played rough with each other. Hyunjin grabbed your breasts, twirling your nipple between his fingers and sucking on your neck as he grinded his hard length against your ass. being squeezed between the two of them, in the middle of the dance studio, was overwhelming. You moaned Minho's name softly as he curled his finger inside you.

"I need this pussy wrapped so tight around my cock-" He groaned thinking of the sensation of your dripping cunt, milking his cock. When Minho briefly detached himself from you and pressed his forehead against yours, he said:

"Turn around!. Now!"

Your heart immediately started beating louder and you turned around to look Hyunjin in the eye again. Then Minho impatiently pushed you onto all fours and you could already feel his tip at your entrance.

Hyunjin knelt in front of you and pulled down his pants to massage his dick. He could barely stand it. He was so hard it hurt and there was already a wet spot on his pants from his precum.

Minho looked at you intensely, your ass in the air and he was sure he would never get enough. He loved your soft curves, spanked you a few times, which made you whimper loudly. He loved making your ass perk up as he railed you. He spanked you a few times until your ass was red then gently rubbed it to soothe you.

You only became painfully aware of how impatient he really was when he thrusted into you from behind without warning. The ticked-off scream that escaped you died in your throat as he grabbed your hips with both hands and, after pulling out, thrusted hard again so that the slapping of skin on skin echoed through the studio. You starred as he began to take you hard from behind and the whimpers and moans only spurred him on. Hyunjin grumbled, overwhelmed. The sight was unbelievable. You desperate, your body between them, completely defenceless and Lino watched as he sank faster and faster deep inside you. "f-fuck, Lino. your dick feels so good inside of me," you managed to speak, despite your stuttering from his hard thrusts. "yeah? you like that?" He responded to you before grabbing a fist full of your hair and tugging on it, causing your neck to snap back a little as he continued to fuck you, making you look directly at Hyunjin.

"Look at him! Show him how good I fuck you."

"Fuck... too big... Lino," you bubbled in between as he threatened to tear you apart. Meanwhile, Hyunjin fucked his hand and knelt right in front of you.

"Come on, be good and help Jinnie a little," Lee Know growled, gripping your hair tighter and pushing your head towards Hyunjin's throbbing dick. You immediately opened your mouth so he could slide between your lips and the moans Hyunjin let out were mesmerizing. With each thrust, he pushed you harder onto his dick until he was thrusting deep into your throat with every movement from Minho. You squinted your eyes as tears ran down your cheeks and Hyunjin's gasps and moans were accompanied by the naughty sounds of your wet pussy being abused by Lee Know as he sank harder into you with each hip thrust and your entire body seemed to burn. "Such a naughty little slut. Letting us fuck your holes at work..." Hyunjin gasped, rolling his hips against your face and enjoying the gurgling sound. One hand landed in your hair where he guided your head along his shaft. Lee Know gripped your ass so tightly that his fingerprints would be visible for days.

"You love it that rough, don't you? Getting fucked until you cry," Lino growled, and your body went wild, tensed with arousal as he hit just the right spots with his massive dick deep inside you. Hyunjin couldn't stop staring at your reflection in the mirror, where he saw everything clearly. How Lino fucked into your sore pussy, how you took his own dick deep until it hit your throat and how your breasts jiggled with every thrust. "Fuck you are our little slut. Letting us use your body..."

Your mouth around his dick, the desperate sounds and the sight of Lee Know thrusting into you without mercy did the rest for Hyunjin and you could feel how much the sight turned him on. Your butt cheeks slamming against Lino's thighs, balls hitting your clit from behind and his hands tangled in your hair as he came with a loud gasp and spurted his load into your mouth, trying to burn the sight into his memory forever. You greedily swallowed it all and sucked on his tip until nothing came out. He pulled his dick out of your mouth and pulled up his sweatpants, panting. Overwhelmed, he stroked your cheek with his thumb. There was sweat glistening on his face and through the mirror you saw that there was also sweat on Lino's forehead. They hadn't even been this exhausted when dancing.

Minho's thrusts were starting to become sloppy, indicating that he was coming close to his high. you could feel his cock start to pulsate inside of you as your walls tightened around him even more. "Lino, I'm so close. oh my god, don't stop. Your dick is so big. Fuck me harder.", it escaped you and those words were already enough to make Lino cum right then and there. he'd bruise your ass with slaps and squeezes, marking your waist as he tugs you to meet his ruthless thrusts. you loved when they would use you for their own pleasure. Abusing your pussy like their own personal fuck toy. Just the thought made you pussy clench harder around his dick.

"Is that all?" you moaned provocatively as you felt how much he enjoyed dominating you and how close he was to cumming. Lino just laughed throatily and Hyunjin grinned, knowing that you were conjuring up a demon. "Keep being a brat, I'll fuck you senseless." He growled back, annoyed with your teasing behavior and giving a harsh slap to your ass. But that's exactly what you wanted. He fucked you even harder and cupped your neck from behind with his big hand. Without hesitation, he pressed your face to the floor so that he had complete control over your body. You feared losing consciousness as he thrust into you so deep and hard that you could feel him in every bone.

With a few final deep thrusts, his dick pulsed violently and you came so hard without warning that your pussy almost crushed him. With a gasp, he came inside you and sank into you a few more times, savoring your high until the very last second. Only then did he let go of your neck and pulled you up against him, breathing heavily. You knelt together on the floor and he struggled to breathe as he buried his face against your neck, his arms wrapped tightly around your stomach. Hyunjin brushed your hair out of your face and when your eyes met, you smiled warmly. "Thank you," he said and lifted your chin with one finger before his plush lips lingered on yours and he kissed you intensely. Satisfied and your body flooded with warmth, you buried your hands in his hair and returned the sensual kiss. Lino pressed a kiss to your shoulders and when you regained your senses a few minutes later and got dressed again, Lino hugged you tightly from behind while Hyunjin packed up his cell phone and your things.

"Babe?" he murmured and you snuggled into his arms.

"What is it?" you asked, turning around in his embrace so you could look at him. His eyes glittered with energy and his hazel hair fell down his forehead. "Are you all right? Did I hurt you?" he asked softly and his concern touched you deeply. You quickly wrapped your arms around his neck. "I'm fine." He scrutinized you to make sure you were telling the truth, which made you smile. "Really!" you assured him. Not like all the other girls in his life so far, you didn't annoy him, let him come back to you instead, and he loved the feeling of chasing you, of always needing to prove that he was the only one to fuck you like that. He wanted, no needed to prove himself to you. Over and over again. He had no idea what that feeling was but he liked it. As well as he liked the way you looked at him. With so much adoration. Sharing you with his members made him even more happy, than he ever could have expected.

Lino was so much more sensitive and loving than he could admit to himself. You loved this side of him and it made you feel safe. Finally, he seemed to believe you and nodded.

"Alright, let's go home and I'll cook something delicious."

Pleased, Hyunjin came over to you. "That sounds like a good plan! Let's go then."

Lee Know gave you his sweater, which you gratefully pulled over your sports bra. When you had finished tidying up and switched off the light, you breathed a sigh of relief. It always felt good to be able to go home together.

You snuggled into Lee Know's sweater, smelling the collar and rolling your eyes when Hyunjin caught you doing it and raised his eyebrows. Lee Know kept glancing at you and couldn't stop grinning mischievously, and Hyunjin smirked quietly to himself as well.

What you did was indecent, beyond all the rules. Naughty and definitely unacceptable. And that's exactly what got your adrenaline pumping. It was the first time since Australia that you were with two of the members at the same time and you liked it. "Imagine someone had come in."

Lee Know said at the door and Hyunjin snorted. That seemed to be a fantasy of his and you playfully elbowed him in the side. "Then I'd be fired"

"You can still become an idol." he dismissed it and Hyunjin laughed. "Or influencer."

Just as you were about to say something back, Il-Deung came around the corner. You hadn't expected him so late. All three of you fell silent and you could see the boys' expressions change. They stared at him, transfixed. He was on his way straight to the dance studio you had been to. If only he had arrived a few minutes earlier...

"Good, you're still here!" he said, clutching the iPad in his hands.

"What's going on? I was just about to get off work," you asked and you could literally feel Lee Know rolling his eyes and Hyunjin looking disgusted.

"I have something important to discuss with you! If you have a few more minutes... You look very exhausted, what were you doing in the studio so late?" he asked, once again being too curious.

"Working out..." Hyunjin replied quickly and Lee Know couldn't help but grin. The smell of sex clung to you and it was obvious how annoyed Il-Deung was to catch you together again.

"So?" he asked emphatically.

"You can tell me quickly now, can't you?" you asked, but he just shook his head.

"I need to talk to you in private!"

Hyunjin frowned in surprise, but before either of them could say anything to make the situation even stranger, you said:

"It's okay! Go ahead, I'll catch up with you. I have to get something from my office anyway."

They both agreed and you pushed past Il-Deung, who followed you. You left the door open while you gathered your Ipad, the notepad with the numbers of the organizers of the next fan meeting and a few of the files with the stage designs. Meanwhile, Il-Deung stood in the doorway a little puzzled, obviously a little offended that you didn't offer him a seat. But you had no interest in this taking any longer. Il-Deung was pushy, unpleasant and, in your opinion, had far too much power. When he made no move to speak, you looked up from your desk and tilted your head a little.

"So. What's up?" you asked, and a message lit up on your cell phone. As you read it, he began:

"It's about your relationship with the members and the media attention on it."

You suppressed a smile as you read the group chat where Lee Know announced that he was cooking his famous seafood pasta for everyone. Directly, Changbin asked what had caused him to be in such a good mood.

"I've already talked to Mrs. Chung about this. The attention and rumors are wanted by JYP."

"Yes... A certain amount of attention and rumors, as long as it doesn't go too far and become scandals."

You didn't take any of his words seriously, after all, you had one of the highest positions in JYP on your side with Mrs. Chung. But Il-Deung looked deadly serious, pushed his glasses up his nose and put his Ipad down in front of you, which made you look up from your phone, where Chan and Jeongin were trying to guess what had happened, which even made Lino send a star emoji.

"Listen! I don't know what kind of weird relationship you have with the members, but if it threatens the company, I can't just stand by and watch. Even if you're just the whore of them..."

You returned his piercing gaze in astonishment. His brow furrowed almost aggressively and his fingers dug into the table when you didn't seem to take him seriously. You were starting to get restless. Flabbergasted you asked:

"Excuse me?"

But his attitude had changed drastically. Somehow he was threatening now with a whole new self-confidence.

"Maybe you should be more careful to not upset anyone..."

He was threatening you without a flinch, and you couldn't believe the situation yet. Were you dreaming? It was ridiculous.

"What are you talking about?"

He switched on his Ipad and started clicking pictures and turning the screen towards you.

"Pictures like that don't leave much room for speculation..." he grumbled and you tried not to let on as he scrolled through the unimaginable amount of snaps that were secretly taken of you. A cold shiver ran through you and your mouth went dry. There was a picture from Australia. You, Felix, Han on the street. Laughing, Han's arm wrapped tightly around your waist and you and Felix holding hands. There were clear red marks on your neck and reddish marks on Han's neck too. Everyone who wasn’t blind knew that these were hickeys. The next pics showed you on the beach from above. You sandwiched between them in the water. Felix hands all over your tits, Han kissing you. The next picture was taken in one of the hallways of the JYP building, where Changbin had his arms tightly wrapped around your stomach, his hands on your but and you were laughing and talking to each other with shining eyes. Another picture backstage in Japan. You could only see silhouettes. It was blurry and too far away, but you knew without a doubt that Han was kissing you on the picture before the performance. The next one made you gasp in disbelief. It wasn't very clear either. You recognized a car door. A tarnished window. Behind it, you could dimly make out two people. You recognized your profile and Jeongin's. You were on his lap, he was kissing your neck and it was clear that you weren't just having a professional conversation about work, as you could see from your shoulders that you were both no longer wearing shirts. This had to have been done after the video shoot, when you fucked in the car.

"Where the hell are they from?", you exclaimed louder than intended. Satisfied to finally have your attention, Il-Deung leaned back in the chair in front of your desk. You jumped up and scrolled through the pictures in disbelief. Your hands were freezing cold and shaking more and more.

"Does it matter?" The calculating calmness in his voice made you angrier and angrier.

"Yes! Someone is stalking us and taking creepy fucking pictures..."

There was taken in Australia. It was very zoomed in and therefore a bit blurry but you could make out Chan's family home. Chan and you were standing on the terrace in front of the white front door and he was brushing a strand of hair out of your face. Even if you had been there yourself, it was surreal to see the pictures from a third perspective. In the next picture, he was kissing you, his hands firmly on your waist and you pressed tightly against his chest. In the next picture, his family was also at the door and a cab was on the street. Chan's mother had lovingly taken your hands in hers and was talking to you. Whoever had taken the photo had been somewhere on the other side of the road. Maybe in a car... You had always been careful, always made sure that no one saw you and yet you weren't careful enough. By now you felt so sick that you had to sit down. There were so many pictures in so many private situations. The fact that someone had been watching you the whole time was scary.

"You work for a Kpop band! Paparazzi photos are normal."

Slowly, you couldn't stay calm anymore. Pointing your finger at his stalking pictures, you blurted out: "Those aren't paparazzi pictures! Someone has been to places where normal people don't have access!"

The asshole actually smiled.

"So you admit that's you in the pictures?"

Your heart pounded in your ears and you fell silent. He had you right where he wanted you. When you didn't say anything else, he leaned forward and propped his elbows on the table.

"I'm not interested in what you're doing with the members or what weird relationship you have... I just want to warn you."

His tone became dangerously calm. He looked at you like a snake, ready to snap.

"Warn me about what?" you asked, hating that he was so intimidating.

"That this could get public... That's not the case yet, but if you continue to be so careless. Ignoring me... being rude. Who knows."

Gradually, you began to realize. You shook your head in disbelief.

"If my uncle who's in the management of JYP finds out about this... He's the old type. For him, scandals are the worst thing that can happen to a company. You know what scandals like that do to idols, don't you? Not only do you lose your job. The band gets broken up... not immediately, of course. First they are all sent on an indefinite hiatus... Then at some point the public is informed that there are no more Straykids because the members have decided to go their separate ways. They will never get a contract again and all the years of training, hard work and career is gone. In the blink of an eye."

Stunned, you could only stare at the Ipad. You had given him a lot of credit of being an idiot, but this? That was a little too high up on the James Bond villain scale.

"What do you want?" was the only open question in the room. Empty and with a snorting heart, you watched as he stood up and came around the table until he was standing in front of you. He bent down to you until his face hovered in front of yours.

"I'm just worried about you. I wish you would surround yourself with your own kind. With people who value you and don't take advantage of you..."

He twirled a strand of your hair between his fingers and you wanted to throw up, you felt so sick by now.

He just wanted to demonstrate his power. He'd had you followed, secretly photographed and now he was blackmailing you.

"I want nothing but your loyalty and maybe we'll even get along."

Frozen, you returned his gaze. His closeness was suffocating. You could smell his expensive perfume, but it burned like gasoline in your nose.

"Think about it," he smiled disgustingly, pushed the strand of hair behind your ear and stroked his fingers down your neck before pulling away, taking his iPad and finally disappearing. It was only when the door slammed shut that you audibly gasped and buried your face in your hands. Despair began to eat away at you. You couldn't tell anyone about this. Chan would freak out and put his career on the line without thinking. You couldn't risk that.

So you tried not to let on. Even as you ate, chatted and laughed together back at them dorm, your worries wouldn't leave you alone. Even though you were safe in the dorm, it wouldn't let you sleep the whole night.

——————————————————————-

© Yuna542 — 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

Taglist (closed):

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[nahoney22]

I have a request! Works been rough lately, can I get a fem reader/Crosshair with “let me distract you” when he visits her during a tough shift? Love your work, thank you!

-dumfanting

The Perfect Distraction*** 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Crosshair X Female!Reader

word count: 2.6k

Prompts:

• “Let me distract you.”

Plot: When work is non-stop, you feel yourself overwhelmed and in need of a break. Luckily for you, your other half came at the right time.

Authors note: sorry that work has been tough lately @dumfanting 🩵 hopefully things have gotten better. If not, here’s some soft Crosshair to make your day better. (Sorry for the wait)

warnings: NSFW, 18+ only. Explicit Sexual Content and Language. Female Reader, Work Stress, Light Angst, Established Relationship, Massage, Soft Smut, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, Aftercare, Comfort, Kissing, Neck Kissing and Sucking.

A neon sign by the door flickers, glowing with a dim "OPEN" that buzzes faintly in the background. It’s barely holding on, much like you are at this point.

Your shop that you owned for a few years is - to be blunt - a mess. A current maze of half-disassembled speeders and crates of mismatched parts, with wires and hydro spanners scattered across every available surface. The usual hum of machinery sounded through the space, barely masking your own frustrated grunts as you try to wrangle yet another malfunctioning power converter back into shape. But no matter how hard you work, it feels like the pile of jobs only grows larger, while your supply of critical parts dwindles.

Then, you hear the familiar irritating buzz of the door, followed by heavy footsteps. You grit your teeth, already bracing yourself for what’s coming.

A burly customer storms in, his face flushed with anger. “This is ridiculous!” he snaps. “You said my speeder would be ready days ago! What kind of operation are you running here? I’ve been waiting long enough!” He throws his arms up in frustration, knocking over a pile of circuit boards in the process.

You open your mouth to respond, trying to keep your tone steady despite the stress bubbling under the surface. “Look, I’ve got a shortage of parts. I’m doing everything I can—”

He cuts you off, voice rising. “I don’t want excuses! You’re supposed to be a mechanic, not some scrap peddler! If you can’t get it done, I’ll take it somewhere that can.”

Before you can get another word in, a cold, measured voice slices through the tension. “I think you’ve said enough.”

The customer whips around to see Crosshair leaning against the wall, twirling a familiar toothpick between his lips. But there’s nothing casual about the deadly look in his eyes. He straightens up, moving to stand between you and the customer, his hand resting near his blaster as if daring the guy to push his luck. “Back off and leave the lady alone,” he snarls, tone voice dipped with venom as he flicks the pick at the customer's chest.

Their bravado is quick to vanish. He stammers, trying to recover some of his bluster, but it’s clear he’s rattled. “I—I just want my speeder fixed…” He takes a step back, bumping into a tool cart and nearly knocking it over in his haste to retreat.

“Then take it somewhere else,” Crosshair replies coolly, his eyes never leaving the man. The customer mutters something under his breath and stumbles out of the shop.

For a moment, all you can do is exhale, letting the tension drain from your shoulders. You shoot Crosshair a look—half-irritation, half-gratitude. “Well, there goes another job. Not that I’m upset about it,” you mutter, rubbing your temple. “But still, I don’t need to be losing more credits.”

Crosshair simply shrugs, clearly unconcerned. “Credits won’t matter much if you’re burnt out.”

You huff, feeling the exhaustion catch up to you. “Burnt out is putting it lightly. It’s been one thing after another all day. Parts shortages, broken motivators, customers demanding miracles. I’m running myself crazy, and no one seems to care that I can’t fix what I don’t have.” Your voice wavers slightly as the frustration spills over. “I’m one person, Crosshair. I can’t keep this up.”

He listens quietly, his sharp gaze softening as he takes in the stress etched on your face. Without a word, he steps over to the door and flips the neon “OPEN” sign to “CLOSED.”

When he turns back to you, he’s closer now, his tone gentler. “What can I do?”

You look up at him, feeling a lump in your throat at the kindness in his voice. Before you can answer, he pulls you into his arms, wrapping you in a secure embrace. You really needed this.

The warmth of him, combined with the rare tenderness in the way he holds you, makes your chest tighten with relief. You let yourself sink into him, closing your eyes as you take in the steady rhythm of his breathing. For a moment, the clutter of the shop and the never-ending to-do list fades into the background.

“Just this,” you whisper, feeling the weight of the day lift ever so slightly. “This is enough.”

Crosshair’s hand moves in slow circles on your back, offering a silent comfort that says more than words could. His eyes then move toward your cluttered office tucked in the back of the shop. “Why don’t we head to your office? You could use a break.”

You nod, feeling a wave of fatigue wash over you. The office is far from tidy—tools, spare parts, and datapads are scattered all over—but there’s a worn couch in the corner that’s always offered a bit of comfort when you need a breather. Crosshair leads the way, and you follow.

You sigh heavily as you begin pacing in your cluttered office, not being able to help but continue venting your frustrations. “It’s like everything’s falling apart at once. Staff keep canceling their shifts, leaving me to pick up the slack. I’m drowning in work with no one to help, and my orders for parts are delayed again! I can’t catch a break, and I’m starting to think I’ll never dig myself out of this mess.”

Crosshair moves towards the couch, slouching back in his usual relaxed manner and his sharp eyes follow your every move. He doesn’t interrupt, just lets you get it all out. When you finally pause to catch your breath, he speaks, his voice calm and steady. “Come here.”

You look at him, still frazzled, but the calm assurance in his tone pulls you toward him. You sit beside him, and he wastes no time, guiding you against his chest as he wraps his arm around you. You lean your head back against his shoulder, trying to let go of the day’s weight.

Crosshair’s fingers trail lightly along your arm, his presence grounding you. He leans in close, his breath warm against your ear as he murmurs, “Let me distract you.”

You hum softly in response, your lips curling into a faint smile at the suggestion. “You think you can really take my mind off all this?” you ask. Oh you definitely know he can.

Instead of answering, he starts massaging your shoulders, his touch firm and soothing. His skilled hands work out the tension, moving slowly, melting away the stress you’ve been carrying. As his fingers glide over your muscles, your body begins to relax, the tension easing with every pass. His thumbs press into the knots with just the right amount of pressure, and you let out a quiet, contented sigh.

“See?” he murmurs against your neck, “You’re already feeling better.”

His hands continue their path down your back, trailing lower before slipping back up along your sides. His touch is tender, coaxing you into a calm state that contrasts with his usual intensity. Crosshair is rarely gentle, but right now, it’s exactly what you need.

The atmosphere shifts, the tension turning into something else entirely. He pauses, and you feel his lips brush the shell of your ear as he whispers, “Is this how you wanted to be distracted?”

The teasing lilt in his voice makes you bite your lip, your pulse quickening. “Maybe… but I think you know what I really need,” you reply, your voice breathy as your desire begins to build.

Crosshair chuckles, clearly pleased with your response. His hands drift lower, sliding over your hips and down your thighs before slipping back up. You feel his fingers hook into the waistband of your pants, tugging them down just enough to grant him access. Your breath hitches as his hand dips beneath the fabric of your dampened panties, his fingers brushing against your already slick folds.

“Is this what you had in mind?” he asks, his voice a low rumble against your ear as he begins to tease you, his touch feather-light and maddeningly slow.

A quiet whimper escapes you as his fingers trace gentle circles over your clit, his touch skilled and precise. “Crosshair…” you breathe, a plea hidden in your tone.

He smirks against your neck, enjoying the way you’re beginning to unravel in his arms. “I thought you needed a distraction,” he murmurs, sliding a finger inside you, teasingly slow. He works you with agonising precision, each movement calculated to draw out your need.

You arch against him, gasping softly as his fingers press deeper, his thumb maintaining a steady rhythm against your clit. “This what you wanted?” he taunts, slowly adding a finger inside you, curling them just right and hitting that perfect spot.

Your body answers for you, a shuddering moan escaping your lips as you grip his arm, your hips moving in time with his touch. The stress, the tension, everything melts away under his skilled hands, leaving only the building pleasure that threatens to tip you over the edge.

Crosshair’s free hand wraps around your waist, holding you steady as he continues to work you with an almost unbearable precision. “Let it go,” he murmurs against your neck, his voice velvet and commanding all at once.

And you do, falling apart in his arms. The pleasure crashes over you in waves as his fingers carry you through your release. He doesn’t stop until you’re trembling, spent and breathless against him.

For a moment, the world narrows down to just the sound of your breathing and the warmth of his arms around you. Eventually, Crosshair withdraws his hand, holding you close as you come down from the high, pressing a tender kiss to your temple.

“Feeling better?” he asks, his voice smug but laced with genuine concern.

You manage a tired, satisfied smile, still basking in the afterglow. “A little, yeah,” you whisper, sinking deeper into his embrace.

“Only a little?” He asks with a raised brow. He shifts positions, taking your waist and gently lifting and then laying you flat across the couch, crawling over the top of you. “That’s not good enough, is it?” His breath is warm against your skin, his eyes darting from your eyes to your lips.

You find yourself grinning, completely obsessed with your boyfriend. “I suppose it isn’t,” you gasp the second the words leave your lips, his mouth on yours with a tender, slow and sensual kiss.

“Let’s fix that,” Crosshair’s lips press a final kiss to your neck before he slides lower, his gaze never leaving yours as he settles between your legs. You’re already breathless, anticipation tingling through your veins. His movements are deliberate but unhurried, as if savoring the effect he has on you.

He hooks a finger around the side of your panties, pulling them aside with a casual ease that sends a shiver up your spine. His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you, his usual sharp demeanor softened by the affection in his gaze.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his voice a low rasp as he leans in closer. The word is both a command and a promise. Then, without breaking eye contact, he dips his head, his lips brushing your inner thigh before his mouth finds exactly where you need him.

His touch is slow, precise, completely different from his usual rough and demanding approach. The contrast sends waves of pleasure through you, and you can’t help but melt into the couch, your body responding eagerly to his attention. He takes his time, his tongue moving in smooth, deliberate strokes that drive you wild while keeping you tethered.

You gasp softly, arching into his touch, your fingers tangling in his hair as he continues to work you with a patience that’s almost agonising. “So, beautiful.” He moans into your clit.

He seems completely focused on drawing out every bit of tension, coaxing your pleasure higher and higher with each careful movement. Every kiss, every flick of his tongue is calculated, designed to make you feel like you’re the center of his world.

Unable to resist the pull, you reach for the hem of your top and tug it off, tossing it aside. Crosshair doesn’t miss a beat—his hands are quick to slide up your torso, fingers grazing your sensitive skin as he cups your breasts. His thumbs brush over your nipples, sending electric sparks of pleasure through you as his mouth continues its unhurried rhythm below.

You moan his name, your voice laced with both need and admiration. He hums against you in response, the vibration adding another layer of sensation that has you clutching the couch cushions, completely lost in the pleasure he’s giving you.

After what feels like an eternity of bliss, he finally shifts, moving back up your body with slow, languid kisses, each one lingering as if he’s savoring your taste. He presses his lips to yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue before he whispers against your mouth, “I told you, I’m not done yet.”

Your breath hitches as he pulls back just enough to reach down and free himself. He takes his time, positioning himself between your legs, his hands sliding up your thighs to hold you steady as he aligns himself with you. But before he moves, he locks eyes with you, his gaze filled with an intensity that makes your heart race.

“I’m going to take all that tension away,” he promises, his voice rough with desire, but there’s a softness there too—a genuine care that makes you feel cherished, not just desired. “Just let me take care of you.”

As he slowly enters you, every inch deliberate and controlled, you feel the world narrow down to just this moment—the warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and the way he fills you completely. His movements are slow but powerful, every thrust purposeful, designed to make you feel every bit of him. It’s intimate, soothing, and completely overwhelming in the best way.

He keeps whispering soft praises, his voice a rough murmur in your ear. “That’s it… just like that… you’re doing so good for me.” His hands roam your body, caressing your skin as if he’s grounding you in the here and now, making sure you stay connected and completely focused on him.

His pace is steady, as if he has all the time in the galaxy to show you exactly how much he cares. The dirty talk flows naturally, his words laced with affection. “You’re perfect like this… so beautiful when you let go.”

The way he moves, the way he speaks—it’s all meant to draw you further into this shared moment, making you forget about the stress and exhaustion from earlier. The tension in your muscles, the weight on your mind, all dissolve under the weight of his attention.

As the pleasure builds, you can feel yourself falling apart in the best way, and he’s right there with you, guiding you through it with whispered reassurances and gentle touches. When you finally reach your peak, he’s watching you with a look that’s both possessive and full of awe, like he’s proud of how you’ve given yourself over to him completely.

“C—Crosshair…mmm, I’m goin’ to cum.” You rasp, your back arching into him as stars begin to blur your vision.

He doesn’t stop until you do. Letting you ride out your orgasm on his cock until you’re fully sated. He reaches his own high, panting your name softly before he pulls out and spurts his velvet white seed all over your stomach and breasts.

As your body relaxes and becomes loose in his embrace, he leans over you and places a tender kiss to your lips as he holds you close, letting you bask in the aftermath.

When you finally catch your breath, he gives you that familiar smirk, his voice filled with smug satisfaction. “Now… how’s that for taking the tension away?”

You can’t help but laugh softly, feeling lighter than you have in days. “More than enough,” you whisper, still wrapped in his arms, grateful for the way he always knows exactly how to care for you.

That is the distraction you definitely needed today.

Tags: @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @lulalovez

@tentakelspektakel @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder r @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @photogirl894

[lavenderprose]

Emmrook Short: Rooftop Interlude

~~~

ALRIGHT well this scene doesn't fit the narrative of the fic the way I thought it would. Currently gnashing my teeth and trying to fit it in elsewhere. I'll just throw it up here in case it ends up being left on the cutting room floor. Have at it.

Emmrook | Explicit | Semi-Public shenanigans ahead

They are in Treviso, the coffee is strong and the stars are beautiful. Rook watches with an open, laughing mouth as Emmrich hangs from a zipwire and, embarrassingly, screams with both exhilaration and horror as he flies above the glass-calm surface of a dark canal.

When his feet touch on the ground, his knees immediately buckle, though they don’t hit the pavement. Rook jumps forward and angles her shoulder against his chest. His arms go reflexively around her and she laughs and laughs as his nose crashes into the top of her head. She smells of honeysuckle and sweat.

“Whoa,” she says, stumbling only a little under his greater height and weight. She pulls back just far enough to meet his eyes, grinning as she says, “Hey, you did it! It gets easier every time.”

“Oh!” he says, panting, voice gone just slightly hoarse from the hollering. “That was…oh my, that was—quite something, I’ve never—” He straightens up, laughs, swipes a hand through his hair. Rook doesn’t move away, and he’s distantly aware that she probably should—the area they’re standing in isn’t necessarily public, frequented as it is almost exclusively by Crows using the vast rooftop system to move about the city clandestinely. That said, it isn’t necessarily private either. One could easily misinterpret the sight of them standing here, panting and wrapped around each other.

Still, Rook doesn’t move. Her hands find their way up his back, curled over the angle of his shoulder blades, and Emmrich can almost feel every movement of her fingers, every creak of her joints even through the thick fabric of his greatcoat.

“Lucanis went ahead,” she says, and flicks her fringe away from her face with a small, neat movement of her head. Emmrich watches as her mouth opens, her eyelashes flutter, and her tongue wets the length of her top lip. “He was—um, worried Viago would get upset if we left him waiting too long. Also, Spite was getting antsy.”

“Ah,” Emmrich breathes. “Well, forgive me the time I delayed us. I consider myself quite athletic, mind you, but overcoming one’s dread at the idea of zipping through the air—that’s quite something else!” He barks out another laugh, because it’s the only thing he can think to do.

“You did great,” Rook says again, and shifts against him in such a way that her hip collides with the front of his trousers. It’s purely accidental, and wouldn’t affect him in the slightest under normal circumstances—he’s more than capable of controlling himself, even with the feelings she inspires in him. There is, however, a great deal of adrenalin still coursing through him, and when her body presses to his—and one of her hands finds his chest.

“I am so sorry,” he gasps, taking a full step back. He’s embarrassed, flaming with it, and unfortunately it does nothing to ease his problem. There’s a wire crossed there—he’s never taken the time to examine it.

A moue of surprise curls onto her face. “That’s—alright. No, really, it’s fine—” She makes a grab for his hand as he takes another step back, and the grip she tugs on him with is shockingly strong. When he brings himself to look closely at her face, pushing past the mortification, he finds a sheen over her eyes and a high, pink blush blooming across her cheeks. She sucks her lip into her mouth. “Um. Here—”

She pulls him away from the ledge by which they are still, bizarrely, standing. There is a very narrow crevasse between the rooftops of two buildings, less than two full feet in width, and it’s into this crevasse that she leads him. They keep going until the moonlight almost doesn’t hit them anymore, illuminating only the silky top of her tonic-lightened hair and the metal notions on her gear.

Once sufficiently deep for her liking, she turns and pushes him into a wall. He’s panting, exhilarated and just a little alarmed, and she whispers, “Emmrich. Tell me, um. Tell me to stop, and I will.” Then her small hand reaches down his front, finds the outline of his erection, and tenderly caresses the throbbing head of his cock.

“Oh,” Emmrich whimpers, head clonking back against the brick wall. All ideals of propriety he’s ever been taught demand that he tells her to stop—that he politely rebuff her advance, initiate an encounter properly, privately, or else give himself over to the silent longing that is his lot in life. He knows he should, and yet cannot bring himself to; he is weak, weak for her, and she is beautiful, warm and offering herself to him like a wrapped gift. The weight of her hand, her sweet breath against his neck—he can only welcome them.

“Sh, sh,” she whispers. “You feel good. Is that—do you like—”

“Yes,” he gasps. “Yes, that’s—” He sighs, squeezes his eyes shut. “Please, Rook—please.”

Rook gasps against the crook of his neck, wet and hot, then she’s gone. His head spins as he processes her absence, and then her hands find him again—from below, and he looks down. Amber pools, so deep he could sink into them and never surface, examine him from hip-level. Her fingers are frantic, fumbling at the buckles and ties between the air and his flesh.

Emmrich Volkarin, who is far enough into his second half-century of life that he should know better, and still young enough that the world often manages to surprise him, stutters out a single word of protest—Rook, simply her name—and then can’t bring himself to finish the thought.

“I want to,” she says instantly, clearly aware of his train of thought. “Maker, I want you in my mouth. Let me suck your cock.”

“Okay,” he squeaks. “Okay—yes—that—Rook, darling, that button is a clip—"

He is stunned, overcome and so deeply aroused that he thinks his head might just pop clean off. Rook, who seems to know this, fixes him with a look of utter desire and he knows that whatever is driving her to do this, it isn’t something he needs to save her from. He joins her fumbling and, together, they free him from his clothes. The sight of his purpled, wet cockhead next to her comely face is utterly obscene, and it almost undoes him before he has the privilege of sinking into the heat of her mouth.

“You’re beautiful,” he tells her, as she taps his cock on her chin.

“So are you,” says Rook, speaking directly to and possibly about his penis, but he can’t really hold it against her. He’s been known to appreciate the presence of a hard cock in his face, as well. The thought startles a chuckle out of him as she inches closer, settling into the task she’s chosen.

She shifts from her squat to kneel on his boots, keeping her knees out of the alley refuse, and his toes flex against the sweet, heavy burden of her weight as she takes him. Her tongue is clever, slick, twirling underneath the glans. Her eyes stay open and somehow, against all odds, his do too. Her lips are red, a perfect pucker around the veined shaft of his cock. Emmrich has always enjoyed congress in all its forms, giving and receiving, but the act of oral pleasure has always filled him with a particular mixture of shame and desire. Something about the baseness of it, the inherent submission of kneeling before someone and servicing them.

Rook doesn’t seem to do it as an act of submission, or even particularly an act of service. She gives fellatio selfishly, if that’s even a thing. Genuinely appears to enjoy it nearly as much as him; groaning around him, pressing forward until her nose is buried in the still-dark hair at the root of his cock, and fluttering her eyelids as if he can bring her to her own ecstasy simply by fucking her mouth. It would be a lie to say he hasn’t thought about this—Maker, he has, and he’ll be judged for that someday. He’s also thought about his hands on her breasts, the curve of her ass in his lap, and the way she might taste. They aren’t thoughts he’s ashamed of, necessarily, because he would never breathe a word of them to her unsolicited. He’s red-blooded, she is beautiful, and it has felt for at least some short time now that they were hurtling towards this inevitably. Nevertheless, it’s shocking that it would happen now.

He considers himself a sexual being, deeply enjoys the act of it as both a source of intimacy and relief, and seeks it out when he desires it. It has, however, been a long time since he had the time or inclination to do so. She brings him to the brink quickly, and he can hardly breathe to signal to her his impending release.

“Rook,” he gasps, a hand clutching onto the nearest part of her—which, unfortunately, is her hair. He grips a handful of it far harder than he intends to. She groans encouragingly, hands spidering up to grasp at the backs of his thighs, and he bites savagely into his gloved hand as he spills onto her tongue.

She leans over and spits, which is one of the grosser things he’s ever found erotic, and then asks, “Do you have a handkerchief?” Her voice is quiet, now with the subtlest rasp. He immediately pulls out his handkerchief and offers it in trembling fingers.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, wiping her mouth. She tucks him back into his trousers, reverse-engineering the complicated arrangement of his buckles with only a little guidance, and then briefly rests her forehead against his stomach. His toes are beginning to go numb under her weight—a minor and extremely bearable pittance.

“Are you alright, darling?” he asks, curling a finger under her chin.

“Mm-hm.” Rook tilts her head up, eyes still closed, and presses a lingering kiss to his thumb. It reminds him that they have yet to so much as kiss, despite the taste of him now lingering in her mouth. “I’m so turned on I don’t think I’ll be able to walk straight. Give me a second.”

“Ah,” Emmrich murmurs. She giggles. “If you desire some assistance in that regard, I would gladly offer it.”

“No time,” she sighs. “We were supposed to be at the Diamond ten minutes ago. Spite will know what we’ve been doing, and I’m sure he’ll tell Lucanis.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure,” Emmrich says, resting his head back against the wall. The stars are just visible between the eaves of the two roofs almost meeting each other overhead. They seem almost audible in their brightness. “Spite is more likely to smell the alley than the sex. We’ll tell him you fell in a gutter.”

“Oh, I’ve been in the gutter alright,” Rook mutters against his hip, and they share another giggle.

The meeting with the Talons is awkward. Their delayed arrival had, indeed, aggravated Viago de Riva—though Emmrich has it on good authority that this is by no means an impossible feat. Lucanis, too, fixes them with a vaguely disgruntled look. Emmrich returns it, not missing the flash of purple on the edges of Lucanis’ pupils, and can only hope that a steady, reproachful look is enough to dissuade Spite from inserting himself into the conversation. Despite his assurances to Rook, Emmrich doesn’t yet know enough about Spite to be absolutely assured that Lucanis’ demon counterpart won’t smell Rook’s breath and immediately take it upon himself to announce his knowledge of their liaison.

This, thankfully, never comes to be. Teia is predominantly amused by their obvious dishevelment, and Viago is still grateful enough to Rook for Treviso’s rescue that he lets any observations of his own pass largely unmentioned. Lucanis only says one thing as they pass through the Eluvian.

“…on your own time next time, okay?” Emmrich hears, as Rook and Lucanis emerge through the mirror behind him. He also hears Rook’s huffed laugh.

“Sure.”

Spite, emerging at last through Lucanis’ throat: “Rook. Your breath. Smells like co—”

“Ah,” Emmrich snaps, prim, because Spite responds well to firm guidelines. Misguided spirits are, after all, something of Emmrich’s specialty.

“Ugh!” Spite snaps, before fading back into obscurity behind Lucanis’ eyes.

“Well,” sighs Lucanis, rubbing his neck. “This has been…fun. I’m going home.”

Rook lets him stomp ahead through the strange brush of the Crossroads, giggling under her breath, and Emmrich ignores the stark sting of mortification on the back of his neck. When the tails of Lucanis’ cape are swaying a satisfactory ways in the distance, Emmrich slants his gaze towards her and mutters, “I think you’re amused by this, my dear.”

“They were going to find out anyway,” she sighs, and shakes a hand through her hair, falling badly now out of its pins. It’s been most of an entire day since she put them in. She pockets them as they come loose until, after a moment, her hair falls over her shoulders in a sleek, pin-straight waterfall. The shadows of her black roots are only just beginning to surface at her scalp. “We’re all living on top of each other. It’s like the Novice Watcher’s dorms all over again.”

“It was a rather, um, effective way to ensure our relationship becomes common knowledge,” Emmrich murmurs, hands twisting together as they meander after Lucanis’ rapidly retreating form. “There are Crows in Vyrantium who I’m sure will know by the end of the week. And with Spite knowing, it’s only a matter of time before—”

“I’m giving it ‘til Thursday,” Rook says, it currently being Tuesday.

“Mmm. That’s generous.”

“Emmrich.” She stops, hands buried in the pockets of her Watcher’s apron, and waits for him to wheel to face her. She’s frowning and seems to be actively engaged in the act of making herself smaller, like she’s bracing for a blow. “We don’t have to…if that was too much, just let me know. I’m not made of glass. I’ve been rejected before.”

“That,” he says, stern, “is far from what is happening here.” The idea of rejecting her after the gift of her attentions in the alley, as unwise as they may have been, makes him see red. Someone, somewhere, must have made her feel so utterly worthless at some point. Someone left her to think that her body could be taken for granted and her sexuality scorned. He should hope that individual never crosses his path on a dark night.

It’s only the intensity of his voice that seems to keep her from pursuing that line of thought. She shifts nervously, a sort of girlish uncertainty about her, and she says, “This is kind of how I am. Impulsive. I don’t always make great decisions. You should know that before this goes any further.

“Rook,” sighs Emmrich, and he closes in to grip her hands. “Do you honestly think that my sexual experiences are limited to dark bedrooms? Quite the opposite. It’s rather flattering to me that you witnessed my floundering and still desired me at all afterwards, let alone right that very moment.”

“Well.” Rook, posture loosening at last, slides her arms around his neck. “It was very sexy floundering.”

“Point being,” Emmrich murmurs, lips against the tip of her ear, “I greatly enjoyed the experience. I’ll admit to being somewhat…embarrassed, but that isn’t necessarily an undesirable consequence for something of this nature. Not for…a man such as myself.”

He waits for the meaning of his words to reach her, and that delicious shame drifts down his back when her eyes widen. “Oh. Oh.”

He clears his throat. “Yes. So, darling, you did nothing wrong…aside from make us tardy for the meeting with the Talons. I do so abhor tardiness.”

“Right. So, next time, work time into the schedule for the rooftop blowjob.”

“Congress under the stars can be so romantic,” Emmrich sighs elaborately, and he knows her confidence is done faltering when she laughs.

He wants to touch her, to feel the promised arousal between her thighs. He thinks about it on a loop as they walk back to the Lighthouse, but she begs off when they arrive.

“I’ll fall asleep on you,” she threatens.

“Not a distasteful thought,” he murmurs, hands low on her hips. He imagines easing her to sleep with swipes of his tongue—a gentle orgasm leading to a deep, dreamless slumber.

He feels her shiver. “I want to. I wish…but I have so much on my mind. Viago is concerned about Antaam movements, Davrin and I need to go speak to Antoine and Evka as soon as possible. I need to think. I need…” She sighs, rolls her eyes. “I think I need to talk to Solas.”

Of course. He’s allowed himself to forget, however briefly, that the Dread Wolf still quite literally occupies her mind. Her slumber is never truly her own, never private. He wishes now, as he often has, that they had met in the Necropolis, before the world took it upon itself to attempt to end for the third time in as many decades. Or else that he could insulated her from the burdens of her station, at least long enough for more than a furtive rooftop fuck.

When they part at the bottom of the stairs to her room, it’s almost unbearable to watch her go.

“Rook,” he says, before she opens the door. She turns to look over her shoulder, and he says, “If you need me—”

“I do,” she says, and disappears.

[somethingheavenknows]

gaming chair

pairing: matt sturniolo x (female) reader

genre: SMUT smut smut smut

summary: matt’s been gaming for too long, and you’ve grown impatient.

tags/content warning⚠️: swearing, lots of pet names- especially princess, daddy!matt, soft dom!matt, slight subspace! reader, mentions of body consciousness, begging (both ways 😏), praise, fingering, riding, mentions of cockwarming and oral (female receiving).

everyone asked for nasty… so here you go.

nsfw content below the cut. i’m not your mother, but either way, proceed with caution.

——————————————————————————

he had to be doing it on purpose. there was no other explanation. matt was sitting there to taunt you. his t-shirt hung from his shoulders so nice, like it was the comfiest and most stealable shirt in the world. those threadbare grey sweatpants hung low on his hips, the band of his boxers poking out like a feast for your eyes, and he sat with his legs spread wide. that spot right on his lap looked perfectly sized for you to take a seat, and you wanted to so badly.

     "are you almost done?" you squeaked from the bed. you've been watching him play video games in that irresistible state for three hours now, and you were starting to get needy. that stupid game. you wanted his attention back.

     "yeah, almost. do you need something, love?" matt replied.

     "mhm," you hummed, "jus' bored... that's all."

     matt's posture straightened right out at your tone, and he made quick work of saving his progress and exiting out of the game. his brain shuffled so quickly through the process that he nearly knocked his soda can off the desk in his frenzy. the boy swiveled around in his chair and smiled, his eyes hazing over dreamily as he took a look at you. you were snuggled up in his pillows and holding the teddy bear he'd won you at a fair some time ago so tightly, smiling back. you batted your eyelashes, knowing how he loved the way they fluttered. a little pair of sleep shorts squeezed your bottom, nothing beneath them, and you wore a big black t-shirt that he wanted nothing more than to take off.

     "come here, then. what are you waiting for?"

     you put down your teddy and crawled to the foot of the bed, swinging your legs down and hopping off. he slid down in his gaming chair for you and patted his lap, which you clambered into with ease. you felt a bit self-conscious on top of him this way.

     "m'not too heavy, right?"

     "course not, love. you're perfect. just right," he tucked a lock of silky hair behind your ear.

     the boy ran his hands up and down the sides of your body, committing the curves of your lovehandles and hips to memory. you locked your palms behind the back of his neck and twisted the tawny curls around your fingers. his hair was so soft, and growing so long. so grabbable.

     "you're so pretty, angel. such a pretty girl."

     "really?"

     "really, darling. absolutely. god, just look at you."

     he craned his neck up and you closed the gap, pressing your lips to his. he kissed you soft, and you felt your entire body fizzle like a live wire. he swiped his tongue against your bottom lip, asking you sweetly for permission, and you answered by parting your lips and letting him inside. the kiss grew heated then, his tongue tying knots with yours like you were one big cherry stem. your hands pressed flush to his chest, balling up the fabric of his shirt. the rough pads of his fingers toyed at the hem of your top with uncertainty, and then he decided to do it; he slipped his palms right under and began to run them all across your stomach and your waist, playing with the baby soft skin.

     "fuck," he groaned into your mouth, "so pretty, baby. can't get enough of you."

     "need you, matty," you mumbled, feeling yourself slipping into a familiar, cushion-like headspace already. you always melted like this when matt touched you; something about him was so all-consuming, so intoxicating, so safe, that you fell away, your awareness blurred at the edges where his lips kissed and his voice deafened. he made it so easy to let go.

     "need me, huh? want me to touch you, pretty girl?"

     "mhm."

"where, babe?"

you let out a grumble of frustration, drawing out a lengthy, "matty, come on..."

     "lost your words, huh? want me to do it all for you, princess?"

     in a beg barely above a whisper, you agreed. "please,"

     you ground into his lap, which pulled something reminiscent of a growl from matt's lips. he trapped your hips beneath his strong hands and helped you stay steady as you drew big swooping circles on him. there was a pit in your stomach, and it was trembling, climbing to a crescendo slowly as you felt the pressure of him through his pants.

     he wasted no time in pushing his hand down the front of your sleep shorts, sliding his long fingers across the skin. his fingers were just warm enough, and you shivered when his calculative touch reached the wet patch between the fabric and you. 

     "christ, already so wet for me," he teased with a smirk, that plush bottom lip pouting like some sick joke. "were you thinking about me while you sat behind me, love? watchin’ me play? thinkin' 'bout what i would do to you once i was done?"

     you nodded, letting out a soft whine as he teased your entrance with his fingers. a string of dopey "yes"s spilled over the chasm of your lips, beginning to swell from how hard you bit down.

     "what a bad girl you are," matt's voice grew dark, "thinkin' of me touching you when you're right behind me. about how good i'd feel inside you, how i can make you feel. oh, love," he sighed, like you were unredeemable, like he could never fix this part of you. he clicked his tongue condescendingly, "surprised you didn't touch yourself back there when i wasn't looking."

     "mm-mmm," you shook your head, "w-wanted to save it for you."

     "that's my girl. such a good girl, waiting for me. you deserve to feel so good, angel. gonna make you feel so good."

     there was no warning when his fingers plunged deep, curling inside of you like a hook. your moan escaped so lewdly that you flushed with shame, burying your face in his neck. he chuckled as he carefully began dancing his two strongest fingers, the middle and the ring, back and forth at a torturously slow pace; even through your shorts you could hear the noises coming from the center of your hips, and you whined. matt was in a different kind of heaven as you were dripping all over his hand.

     "fuck, baby, look at you."

     you began to work yourself on his fingers, fucking yourself with him like a toy. he hummed as you twisted around and around on his palm, and he dove for your collarbone, sucking hard on the sensitive skin and leaving sloppy kisses all across your chest.

     "feels so good, daddy," you whined into the searing skin of his cheek, and you felt the muscle bunch up in a smile.

     "there she is. my pretty baby," he cooed, eyes nearly rolling back at his nickname. he loved when you let it slip, because it always did, no matter how hard you tried to hold it back. “look how sweet you are, all worked up from my fingers. daddy can't wait much longer, princess,"

     "p-please do it."

     "words, baby, words."

     "fuck me, please. right here in the chair. right in your chair, daddy, please."

     that was all he needed you to say. he pulled his fingers out and lifted you up so he could shimmy his sweatpants down just enough. if your eyes were open, you’d have gasped at his size, but they were screwed shut so tightly as the emptiness in your stomach begged to be filled again. tauntingly, he dipped his fingers back inside you and coated them with the taste of you, pressing them on your tongue like a treat before using the leftovers to slick himself. then, he grabbed your hips and lined himself up, and he helped you lower yourself down. and like the good girl he promised you were, you took him all the way.

     "so tight, princess," he moaned, "so fucking tight, oh my god- can't believe you sat back there and thought about me fucking you. should've spoke up, love, i needed you so bad. i was thinking about it too."

     he guided you back and forth and you followed his rhythm, riding him slow and deep. you felt like you might fall apart on him, unravel like a teddy with a loose stitch.

     "thought about fucking you until your eyes rolled back, y’know. about takin’ you with my headset on, so all my friends could hear you moaning for me, screamin’ my name. thought about your tight little pussy the entire time- fuck, angel, you feel so good- faster, princess, please,”

     you followed orders, and your moans turned into faint whispers of screams. he kissed all over your chest and neck as you called out for him, your hands buried in his hair and tugging so hard it made his eyes roll.

     "fuck! faster, princess, faster! you're gonna make me cum, angel, please!" he whined, burrowing in your chest and heaving his hot breath across your skin. you twisted and turned as fast as you could handle, addicted to the fullness, how he felt like such a perfect fit. "baby, please! please, please, please!" he babbled, all high and desperate. it turned you on so much that he couldn't help but beg you to make him cum.

     "fuck, mat- i- oh, daddy,” your head lolled, and you struggled to keep your pace. matt’s strong palms stitched to your sides, giving you some much needed encouragement. feeling the heat in your stomach burning like fire, you croaked, “m'gonna... god, i’m...!"

     "cum for me, princess. cum all over me. jesus christ, you’re… fuck, that’s it, angel, don’t stop. keep fucking going.”

     it only took a few more snaps of your hips until you crumbled. and in a way, it was sort of like having an exorcism. you twitched and trembled against his body, almost watching yourself from afar as your entire body buzzed, pulsated; you tugged his hair so hard you feared ripping some out. you rode him even longer, through the sensitivity, because it was all too good to stop. the boy came only moments after you did, and there was so much of it you felt it running, dripping everywhere in a mess. you moaned wildly into his neck, imprinting toothy love bites behind his ear, and he sat there and took it, nipping and praising you.

     "good girl. that's my good fucking girl. came so hard for daddy, princess, my pretty girl," he cooed, "can't believe you sat there... so cute how bad you need me inside of you all the time."

     you kissed him hard, your teeth clashing and your hands all over his body as you sat on his cock, keeping him warm. he patted your bottom and smiled strangely, like he had a new plan. he told you, "i'll help you get up, love. want you to lay down for me." 

     "hmm?" you asked, fighting through the haze in your head.

     "oh, m’gonna eat you, princess. lay back for me, love, and i'll do all the work. want you to cum all over my face this time,” he muttered, catching your swollen bottom lip between his teeth and tugging just gently enough to allow butterflies to crawl up your spine. “who do you love, hm? who, baby?”

���you, daddy,” you whispered, seeing stars.

“mhm. that’s right. and daddy loves you. now, lay down.”

[sloptimustoptimus]

Energon Megatron X Reader

NSFW 18+ ONLY

LAST SURVIVOR

__________________________

You're the last one left. The Decepticons have taken ocean city and Megatron has chosen to keep you alive to reward himself for his hard work.

__________________________

Head pounding, vision blurry, you came to in the autobot control room in ocean city; the cold metal of the floor a stark contrast to your building anxiety as your eyes darted around the room. It started flooding back to you when you noticed SnowCat and Demolisher in the corner giggling at you lying defenceless with your hands tied: the Decepticons had taken the city, Optimus was off-world with most of the autobots leaving you with a small crew, none of whom you could see in the room with you.

The live feed which was broadcast from the large screen that sat at the front wall of the room was still running, maybe the Autobots were on the way to get you out of this if they could see the situation unfolding wherever they were.

They weren’t able to help you right now though, as you could hear heavy footfall approaching the control room. Megatron.

The Decepticons in the room quickly straightened up as their leader came into view, he was imposing, towering blue frame dwarfing his subordinates and glaring yellow optics darting between Demolisher and Snowcat, prompting them to leave. You began to strain against the wire holding your hands together, a lump forming in your throat as you imagined what was coming to you. Tears began to sting in your eyes knowing you would be meeting your end today.

“Now, now, human. I’m not going to extinguish you.” He boomed from the control panel, staring you down, “I only require something from you. And who knows, if you comply I might just let you walk free…” his tone was sickly sweet, he was clearly enjoying the suspense he was creating.

“I don't have any information for you, Megatron” You spat, assuming the Decepticon leader was after access codes or autobot intelligence, “you may as well kill me now and get it over with” defeated, you stopped fighting your restraints, only hoping the pain you were going to endure would be quick. Approaching you slowly, Megatron let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Oh no no no, small thing, that's not what I want at all! You see, I’ve taken my time extracting everything I need from your Autobot friends, they were ever so useful”. He stopped as close to you as he could be without having crushed you under him, his optics dark, observing you intently. Looking around in the hopes you would see the rest of your crew, Megatron began to laugh again, “Don’t bother. They can’t help you now”.

Noticing a glint in his gold optics, your heart sank, realising your friends had been extinguished, you were all alone at Megatron’s mercy… and if you weren’t mistaken, he was after something much more personal than information.

“Please, Megatron, don’t do this, you’ll kill me. You know it'll kill me-” Begging for a more dignified death than being split open by a Cybertronian’s spike, using your legs to push yourself away from him.

“Stupid creature, is that what the autobots have told you? They're classless, they interface like animals, but me?” he trailed off, velvet voice hanging in the air as if he were considering ways to bring you round before resorting to force, “I promise you’ll survive. You may even enjoy yourself-”

“Enjoy myself!? After you’ve just decimated our home?” anger taking you over, heat rising to your cheeks as you berated him.

Cutting you off, Megatron lifted you off the cold ground, his large servos holding your body painfully tight as you squirmed in his grip. Your eyes widened as you realised what was happening: Megatron was striding towards the live feed’s main camera stopping mere feet away from it. He knew full well that every autobot on or off world had access to the feed 24/7, too and they were all about to bear witness to what you would be reduced to.

Unable to resist with your hands tied, Megatron made quick work of removing your clothes, ripping the fabric as to ensure he wouldn't have to set you loose. He held you up in front of the screen, working one warming servo down the front of your body, exploring every inch with hard grabs and pinches, making you wince, until he got down to your upper thighs. He took harsh handfuls of the soft skin, the pain making you yelp and hiss, giving him exactly what he wanted.

Before you could process the heat flushing your cheeks, megatron had brought a large finger to your entrance, teasing at it, feeling how wet you were already under his rigorous touch. Bringing his mouth down to your ear, he let out a low hum, almost as if to let you know you were pleasing him. “You know our dearest viewers can see what a mess you're making for me already?” He laughed into the question, watching the embarrassment of knowing that someone was watching on your face morph into excitement and back again.

“Please-” Your breaths already short, “Just put it in”

“How impatient!” Megatron’s tone was mocking, and it was working for you “but if you insist, it only means I can take you sooner”

With that he finally began to slide his forefinger into you, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body.

You threw your head back, giving in to the feeling. Besides, there was nothing you could do about it. Seeing this, Megatron increased his pace to try and get even more of a reaction out of you, your moans only just covering the quiet hiss of him releasing his spike.

“Such a good girl,” he snickered “I never would have guessed you’d be so easy to break”

Praising your cooperation to the live feed, who could see everything from your eyes rolling to the puddle forming in megatron’s palm, he decided to let you enjoy yourself for a little longer, his sick degradation bringing you closer and closer until you feel yourself begin to finish on his hand, breathing shallow and legs quivering.

“Oh is that good? Hm?” He slowed his movements, but you could only let out an affirmative groan in response. “I asked you a question, human. How dare you deny me an answer.” There was genuine annoyance rising in his voice, so you mustered up an answer for him as not to cut your enjoyment (or life) short “y- yes… so… so good”.

“That wasn't so difficult now, was it?” Megatron’s optics shifted between your shaking form and the screen as if to acknowledge whoever sat watching on the other end of the feed.

Retracting his finger from inside you, he lowered you down ever so slightly. You jolted in surprise at feeling his spike fully pressurised beneath you, slick with transfluid already. Without so much as a grunt, Megatron began to work his way into you with an excruciatingly gradual pace, stretching you slowly around him and making you scream with both pain and want. It felt so good despite the agony, your wails now filling the room entirely as he ran out of space inside you. Barely half of him fit into your tight hole, but he didnt seem perturbed at all, he simply moved his grip to your thighs, your knees now spread, level with your chest.

You were utterly helpless, sitting on Megatron’s spike, screaming. All while under the watchful eye of every autobot crew with access to the signal.

His movements were relentless and calculated, hitting you at the perfect angle with every thrust of his hips, he seemed not to tire at all from the exertion which led you to wonder how long this was going to go on for exactly… Hours? Days, even? Megatron’s moans are low, filled with want as he begins leaving bites up and down your delicate neck, the pain only serving to amplify the sensation of his spike inside you.

“Oh how pathetic, it seems you really will let me do anything to you so long as you get your little hole fucked” Megatron was now musing to himself between guttural sounds of appreciation, getting lost in the sensation of such a tight body.

Snapping the both of you back to reality was a loud notification on the control panel. Someone was watching for sure now. Embarrassment flooding your body, it only drove you closer to finishing once more as your captor leaned forward to dismiss the message. As he does, one servo leaves your thigh dangling, moving to your throat after the control panel.

“‘how does it feel to have an audience like this? Everyone knows how little it takes to use you like this, and I bet they will the moment they get the chance”

With that you released again, gushing onto Megatron's spike and the floor below and leaving a clear puddle beneath you both. The angle he had you held at meant you had definitely splashed the main lens of the camera, not that he cared now. The sight of you so undone on his huge spike sent him feral, holding you flush to his torso with one clenching servo, and supporting himself on the control panel with another, your legs swinging with every thrust as he started twitching inside you, ready to finish himself. Megatron’s moans now matched your own as he drew closer to his overload, growling into the nape of your neck as he gripped your small body harder. And harder.

“You're going to take it, human,” He sounded desperate, “All. Of. It.” his words punctuated by the movement of his hips, taking the breath out of your lungs as he coated your walls with his transfluid, warm and thick, too much for your body to hold.

“Yeeeeeeeeees,” he groaned, the tension in his giant body dissolving with every slowing thrust. Your eyes trailing down to your own thighs, now covered in his release which was dripping into your own on the floor.

Panting and shaking you look once again at the feed monitor, entirely spent, at least you could go free now, maybe find a way to convince the autobots you hated every second of it despite the flush of tired bliss that washed over your skin and every sound you made as he was still deep inside you.

Your hands still bound, you struggled to move as your aching legs begged for support but Megatron seems to notice this; lifting you slowly off of his emptied spike, causing more of his transfluid to splash on to the metal flooring, the sound echoing throughout the empty room.

“Is..” you panted, “is it over Megatron?”

“Oh you silly thing, I’ve barely begun to have my fun with you”

__________________________

This is a repost from my AO3 and people seemed to like it over there, so let me know what yall think!

Part 2 below!

Edit: doing some drawing inspired by thic fic so stick around hehehe

[luvvictoria]

Through Fire and Void

+ pairings. suguru geto x f!reader/satoru gojo x f!reader

+ tags. romance, heavy (?) angst, cheating, betrayal, dark romance themes, love triangle (more like a square), secrets and lies, eventual smut

+ status. on-going

+ official playlist. by victo

+ materialist ; prev. part ; next part + a/n. Reblog with your favourite line ! It would help me very much to grow my account !! Thank you in advance

The days blurred together in a haze of routine and unresolved tension, each one indistinguishable from the last. For [Name], the mornings were the worst — waking up felt like an uphill battle she had already lost before opening her eyes. The gnawing emptiness in her chest would greet her like an unwelcome visitor, settling heavily as if it had every right to be there. She would lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, her body weighted by an invisible force that whispered to her that something was wrong, even if she couldn’t pinpoint exactly what.

But life didn’t stop for feelings she couldn’t explain. So, she did what she always did: got up, plastered on a smile, and went through the motions of her day. It was easier to pretend than to face the gnawing questions in her mind. That was what Suguru loved about her, after all — her ability to hold it all together, even when everything inside her felt like it was shattering into a thousand pieces. She was dependable, predictable, someone he didn’t have to worry about.

The mornings stretched into afternoons, where her routine felt like a carefully choreographed dance, each step hiding the chaos beneath. She would laugh at jokes she didn’t find funny, nod along to conversations she wasn’t really listening to, and avoid lingering too long in moments of silence where her thoughts might catch up to her. And when she saw Suguru, she made sure to keep her doubts buried deep, masking them behind the perfect image of the girl she thought he wanted her to be.

Today, though, was different.

The cracks were starting to show. It was in the way her hands trembled slightly as she buttoned her shirt, in the way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes when she greeted her classmates. It was in the way she avoided looking too closely at Suguru’s face when he kissed her on the cheek that morning, afraid that she might see something she wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

Her reflection in the bathroom mirror caught her off guard. She paused, staring at the person looking back at her. Was this who she really was now? Someone who spent every waking moment second-guessing herself, walking on eggshells, and pretending everything was fine when nothing felt fine at all? Her chest tightened, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. She splashed cold water on her face, the chill shocking her back to reality, and forced herself to straighten up.

The world wouldn’t wait for her to fall apart. It never did.

The school hallways buzzed with chatter and bursts of laughter, a chaotic symphony of teenage life that felt at odds with the storm brewing inside [Name]. She moved through the throng like a ghost, her books clutched tightly to her chest as if they could shield her from the noise, the questions, the uncertainty. Her gaze stayed glued to the floor, avoiding the curious stares of those around her.

The doubts and suspicions that had taken root in her mind felt like live wires, sparking and threatening to ignite if she let herself think too long. How many times had his phone buzzed while they were together? How many times had he turned away with an excuse, his smile disarming but his eyes unreadable? She shook her head, trying to banish the thoughts.

“[Name]!”

The voice broke through her spiraling thoughts, and she stopped in her tracks, turning toward its source. Utahime was weaving through the crowd, her expression warm and filled with concern.

Utahime. The one person who had always been there, her steady presence like a lighthouse in a storm. Her friend’s kind smile cut through the noise in [Name]’s head, grounding her.

“Hey,” [Name] greeted, her lips curving into a smile she hoped looked convincing.

Utahime tilted her head, her eyes scanning [Name]’s face with the precision of someone who knew her too well. “You look like you didn’t sleep at all. Did something happen?”

The question hit harder than it should have. [Name]’s grip on her books tightened, her nails pressing into the covers. She wanted to tell Utahime everything. She wanted to spill the truth about Suguru’s distance, about the constant buzzing of his phone, about the way he sometimes looked at her like she wasn’t even there. But the words stuck in her throat.

“No, I’m fine,” she said quickly, her voice a little too bright. “Just tired.”

Utahime’s frown deepened, but she didn’t press. “Well, let me know if you need anything, okay?”

She slipped an arm around [Name]’s shoulders, and the simple gesture felt like a lifeline. “Want to grab lunch later? Just us? We can skip the cafeteria and go somewhere quieter.”

The offer warmed something in [Name], and for the first time that morning, her smile felt almost real. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

Utahime grinned, giving her a light squeeze. “Good. You need a break, and I could use some girl talk. See you then.”

As Utahime walked away, her presence lingered like the last rays of sunlight before a storm. For a brief moment, [Name] felt a flicker of hope—a reminder that no matter how chaotic things got, she didn’t have to face it alone. But as she turned to head to her next class, the weight of her thoughts settled back onto her shoulders, heavier than before.

In the crowd, she caught a glimpse of Suguru, his tall frame leaning casually against a locker as he laughed with Shoko. The sight sent a pang through her chest, but she looked away before either of them could notice her. She bit her lip and quickened her pace, the doubt coiling tighter in her stomach.

She told herself she would confront him soon — just not today. Not yet.

Across campus, Satoru Gojo leaned against a wall, his signature grin plastered on his face as he chatted with Yo Haibara. The two of them were like magnets for trouble, their energy infectious and a little chaotic.

“So, did you hear about the party at Mei Mei’s place this weekend?” Yo asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Of course I did,” Satoru replied, adjusting his sunglasses. “Think I’d miss out on a chance to outshine everyone?” Yo laughed, but his amusement faltered when he noticed Satoru’s gaze shift. Following his line of sight, he spotted Suguru walking across the courtyard, his phone pressed to his ear.

“He’s been busy lately,” Yo commented, his tone casual but curious. Satoru’s grin dimmed, just slightly. “Yeah. Busy.” Suguru’s conversation ended, and he slipped his phone into his pocket before joining them. “What are you two scheming now?” he asked, his tone light.

“Planning to crash Mei Mei’s party in style,” Satoru replied, his usual charm masking the edge in his voice. “What about you? Finally done with all those ‘errands’ you’ve been running?”

Suguru’s smile was as polished as ever. “Some of us have responsibilities, Satoru. Not all of us can coast through life on good looks and charm.”

“Speak for yourself,” Satoru shot back, though his laugh didn’t quite reach his eyes.

The air between them shifted subtly, a tension invisible to anyone passing by but palpable to those who knew them well. Satoru’s grin lingered, a shield against the questions simmering beneath the surface. Yo, ever the peacemaker, raised an eyebrow but stayed quiet, sensing the unspoken undercurrent between his two friends.

Suguru’s polished smile didn’t waver, though there was a flicker in his eyes — a brief shadow that Satoru caught but chose not to comment on. Instead, he leaned back against the wall, his posture as casual as ever, but his sharp gaze never left Suguru.

“Responsibilities, huh?” Satoru drawled, pushing his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. “Funny how those seem to come with a lot of phone calls lately. Anyone important?” Suguru chuckled, his tone easy but calculated. “Just people I have to keep happy. You know how it is.”

“Do I?” Satoru shot back, the words light but laced with an edge. His grin widened, but his tone softened, almost too casual. “You’re not spreading yourself too thin, are you? Gotta make sure you have time for the people who really matter.” Suguru’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, the shift barely noticeable. “I always do,” he replied, the smoothness of his voice betraying nothing.

Yo glanced between them, sensing the growing friction but unsure of its source. He cleared his throat, forcing a smile. “Okay, okay, let’s not get too serious here. It’s a party, not a debate club. So, Suguru, are you coming, or are you gonna leave me and Satoru to fend off Mei Mei’s sarcastic jabs by ourselves?” Suguru’s smile returned, this time with an air of detachment. “I’ll see if I can make it. No promises.”

“Translation: ‘I’m bailing,’” Satoru quipped, throwing an arm around Yo’s shoulders. “Looks like it’s just you and me, Haibara. Don’t worry; I’ll make sure we’re the stars of the night.” Yo laughed, the tension easing slightly, but Satoru’s grip on his shoulder was tighter than usual, his focus still on Suguru. “Don’t stay too busy, Suguru. You might miss something important.” Suguru didn’t respond immediately, his expression unreadable as he met Satoru’s gaze. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said finally, his tone neutral.

With that, Suguru turned and walked away, his pace unhurried but purposeful. Satoru watched him go, his usual carefree demeanor slipping for just a moment as he ran a hand through his white hair.

“You two okay?” Yo asked hesitantly.

Satoru shrugged, the grin back on his face like a mask. “Yeah, we’re fine. Suguru’s just... complicated.”

Yo didn’t push further, but the unease lingered as they made their way across campus. Satoru’s thoughts, however, remained on Suguru. He’d known his friend long enough to recognize when something was off, and lately, everything about Suguru felt like a puzzle with pieces missing.

As they reached their next class, Satoru made a mental note to keep a closer eye on him. Secrets had a way of unraveling, and Satoru wasn’t about to let Suguru’s unravel without warning.

Later that afternoon, [Name] found herself in the quiet sanctuary of the library, sitting across from Nanami Kento. The rows of books around them provided a sense of stillness, the hum of hushed whispers and the occasional turning of pages creating a calming background. It wasn’t the first time she had sought solace in Nanami’s company. The studious, dependable boy had a way of grounding her, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions she’d been wrestling with lately.

“Are you okay?” Nanami’s voice cut through the silence, soft yet direct. He didn’t look up from his notebook, his pen moving methodically across the page, but there was a weight to his words that made her pause.

She hesitated, her pencil hovering over the math problem she had been pretending to work on. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?” she finally muttered, her tone defensive but laced with fatigue.

Nanami stopped writing and set his pen down carefully, his gaze meeting hers. His hazel eyes were steady, unfaltering, and filled with a concern that was impossible to ignore. “Because you’re not hiding it as well as you think,” he said simply. There was no judgment in his voice, just an observation that landed uncomfortably close to the truth.

Her shoulders sagged under the weight of his words. She sighed, dropping her pencil onto the table and leaning back in her chair. “I don’t know, Nanami. I just feel… off. Like something’s wrong, but I can’t figure out what it is.”

Nanami didn’t respond right away, giving her the space to gather her thoughts. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. “Sometimes,” he said after a moment, “it’s okay to not have all the answers. You’re human. Feeling lost doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you.”

She stared at him, the unexpected kindness in his words catching her off guard. “But what if it’s not just me? What if it’s… other things? People?” She trailed off, the confession hanging in the air between them like a fragile thread.

Nanami’s expression didn’t change, but there was a slight shift in his posture, a silent acknowledgment that he understood more than she was saying. “If something — or someone — is making you feel this way, you don’t have to face it alone. You should talk to someone about it. Someone you trust.”

His words lingered in her mind, each one heavy with unspoken meaning. She wanted to tell him everything — the doubts gnawing at her, the way Suguru’s behavior didn’t add up, the emptiness she couldn’t seem to shake. But the thought of saying it out loud felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, the drop too terrifying to face.

Instead, she forced a smile. “Thank you, Nanami. I’ll think about it.”

He studied her for a moment longer, as if weighing whether to push further, but finally nodded. “Anytime.” Picking up his pen again, he returned to his work, his movements precise and deliberate.

[Name] tried to focus on her own homework, but the numbers and equations blurred together on the page. Nanami’s words echoed in her mind, intertwining with her own swirling thoughts.

When their study session ended, Nanami packed his books neatly into his bag. Before he left, he paused, his hand resting on the strap of his bag. “If you ever need to talk, I’m here,” he said softly, his tone so genuine it made her chest ache. Nanami hugged her before finally tossing his bag over his shoulder.

She nodded, watching him walk away with his usual calm, measured stride. As the library fell silent again, she sat back in her chair, staring up at the ceiling. The weight of her secrets felt heavier than ever, pressing down on her like a suffocating blanket.

For the briefest moment, she considered taking Nanami up on his offer. But the thought of unraveling everything, of exposing the cracks she had worked so hard to hide, of the fear of judgment, of the fear of someone expossing everything to the whole university, was too daunting.

Instead, she stayed there, alone with her thoughts and the overwhelming quiet of the library.

As evening fell, [Name] sat alone in her dimly lit room, the faint glow of her phone screen illuminating her face. The silence pressed heavily around her, broken only by the occasional muffled sound from outside — a dog barking, a car passing by. She stared blankly at the wall, her thoughts racing but directionless, like a storm churning in her mind with no end in sight.

Her desk was cluttered with unfinished assignments and crumpled notes, remnants of tasks she’d started but couldn’t bring herself to finish. Even the simple act of picking up a pen felt like dragging herself through quicksand. Her bed was unmade, the sheets tangled from restless nights spent tossing and turning.

She’d told Utahime she wasn’t feeling well and skipped their lunch earlier that day. She hated lying to her, but the thought of forcing a smile and pretending everything was fine felt unbearable in that moment. [Name] didn’t want to face anyone — not when the storm inside her felt like it was on the verge of breaking, spilling out in ways she couldn’t control.

Her phone buzzed in her lap, jolting her from her spiraling thoughts. For a fleeting moment, her heart leapt, a desperate hope swelling within her. Suguru. Maybe he’d finally noticed her absence, finally decided to check in.

But it wasn’t him.

It was Riko Amanai.

Hey, just checking in. Are you okay?

[Name] stared at the message for what felt like an eternity, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. She wanted to respond honestly, to tell Riko that she wasn’t okay, that she felt like she was drowning. But the words caught in her throat, the weight of her own thoughts silencing her.

Finally, she typed out a reply, her hands trembling slightly.

Yeah, I'm just tired from all that studdying, that's all. Thanks for asking, sweetheart .

She hesitated before pressing send, her chest tightening with a pang of guilt. Another lie.

Riko’s reply came almost instantly. If you need to talk, I’m here. Always.

The words hit her harder than she expected, and before she could stop herself, tears welled in her eyes. They blurred her vision, spilling over and streaking down her cheeks as she clutched her phone tighter.

But even as the tears fell, she didn’t respond. What could she say? That she felt like a shadow of herself, hollowed out by the weight of her doubts and fears? That she spent most nights lying awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering what was wrong with her?

The thoughts swirled relentlessly, dragging her deeper into the void. She wiped at her face hastily, as if erasing the evidence of her unraveling would somehow make it less real.

No one had noticed — not Suguru, not Shoko her best friend, not even her teachers who saw her every day. She’d perfected the art of smiling, of nodding along, of being what everyone expected her to be. A people pleaser.

Her phone buzzed again, pulling her back. It was another message from Riko.

Seriously, anytime. I’m here.

The sincerity in Riko’s words broke something in her, and she let out a shaky breath, her hands trembling as she typed out a response she would never send.

I’m not okay. I’m falling apart, piece by piece, and I don’t know how to stop it. It feels like I’m screaming into a void, but no one hears me. I’m surrounded by people who care, but it doesn’t matter — It's like I'm losing myself and I don't know why, it's like I can't be helped, I’m still drowning in this endless emptiness. I can’t breathe, I can’t think, and I can’t remember the last time I genuinely felt like myself. It’s like I’m fading away, and the worst part is, no one even notices and it fucking hurts. No one sees me slipping, not even the people I thought knew me best. I don’t even know if I’m worth saving anymore.

She stared at the unsent message, the words staring back at her like a confession she wasn’t ready to make. With a sigh, she deleted it and placed her phone face down on the bed.

Instead, she curled up in the corner of her room, her knees pulled tightly to her chest as the silence closed in once more. The storm inside her raged on, unseen and unheard by anyone else.

s the night deepened, the invisible threads connecting them all tightened, pulling each of them closer to the breaking point. Secrets layered upon lies, creating a suffocating web that clung to them, unseen but impossible to ignore. It was the kind of weight that settled in the back of their minds, growing heavier with each passing moment, yet they pretended it wasn’t there.

For Suguru, every lie he told was like a brick added to the fragile façade he had built. He wasn’t blind to the cracks forming, but he couldn’t stop. The thrill of deception had become its own addiction, feeding a part of him he didn’t dare acknowledge. Each time he looked at [Name], her adoring eyes searching his for truths he’d buried, he felt a fleeting pang of guilt. But it was fleeting, drowned out by the whispers of temptation that beckoned him back to Shoko.

For [Name], the web wasn’t invisible — it was suffocating. She could feel its strands tightening around her, constricting her every breath, yet she convinced herself it wasn’t real. Her mind was a battleground, torn between the image of Suguru she cherished and the shadows of doubt she couldn’t shake. She replayed their moments together like a broken record, searching for clues she didn’t want to find. Every laugh, every touch, every lingering kiss, every night spent together, — was it real? Or was it all part of a lie she was too afraid to confront?

Satoru carried the weight of knowing too much. The truth sat heavy on his chest, a burden he hadn’t asked for but couldn’t let go of. He watched Suguru navigate his double life with the precision of a skilled manipulator, and it churned something bitter in him. He’d warned Suguru once — told him that secrets like these had a way of unraveling, tearing apart everything in their path. But Suguru had laughed it off, confident in his ability to keep the pieces together. And so Satoru stayed silent, his loyalty to his oldest friend locking him into a role he hated.

Even Yo, so often dismissed as the carefree troublemaker, felt the pull of the web. His own secrets weighed heavy on him — the pills in his pocket, the deals that left a sour taste in his mouth. He told himself it was just temporary, that he’d walk away when the time was right. But the longer he stayed, the more tangled he became, the more the lines blurred between who he was and who he was becoming.

And then there was Shoko, the catalyst no one talked about. She wore her indifference like armor, but beneath it was something colder, sharper — a satisfaction in knowing the role she played. She wasn’t blind to the pain she caused, but she told herself it wasn’t her responsibility. Suguru had made his choices, and [Name] was too naïve to see the truth. It wasn’t her job to fix anything, even tho [name] saw her as a best friend, Shoko couldn't care less about her.

As the night stretched on, each of them felt the web pulling tighter, the strands digging into their skin. None of them could see the full picture, but all of them felt its weight. The lies they told themselves were the hardest to escape, echoing in their minds like a relentless tide: This is fine. I can handle this. Nothing’s going to fall apart. It will get better.

But deep down, they all knew better. The web wasn’t just trapping them — it was unraveling, one thread at a time. And when it finally gave way, none of them would emerge unscathed.

✨ Enjoyed this story? ✨ If you’d like to support my writing, consider leaving a tip or commissioning a custom fanfic on Ko-fi. Every bit helps me and my family, and I’m so grateful for your support! 💕

[sunarots]

BETTER THAN REVENGE! ━━━ tooru oikawa & rintarou suna

14. we game? ♡

You sit behind the camera on a black chair with your name on it, a notebook rest on your knees. On your right, Rin's pulled his chair up close and is looking at your notebook, copying what you write into his own. On your left, Atsumu bounces his knee up and down as he intensely focuses on the scene. He's been told off three times by the director for invading his personal space, much to you and Rin's embarrassment.

The director yells out, announcing they would be taking a ten minute break to regroup and get touch-ups on makeup. Almost instantly, Atsumu is on his feet. He yells he'll be back whilst racing to the door, almost tripping over the loose wires on the floor. Rin yells out a series of curses at his friend, shaking his head in disappointment.

"Why the fuck did we take him? Where is he going so urgently?" he mutters, leaning back in his seat and stretching out his cramping hand.

You keep writing in your notebook, shrugging one of your shoulders without sparing him a glance. "More booze, probably." You straighten up, read over what you've written, and look at Rin with a smile. "I've got an idea for this scene already. We can have a rap session later, if you're up for it?"

"Yeah, rap session sounds good. What have you got?"

You show him the notebook, your attention being stolen by the director waving you over from your chair. You flash a smile at him, excusing yourself from Rin and making your way over towards the director. You take a quick glance at the name on the back of his chair before stopping by his side.

"Have you found any of this useful? If this method doesn't work we can try-"

"No, this is working really well," you cut him off, waving your hands. "I actually have ideas for this scene already. So, they're obviously going to get into this huge argument, and all through the back of the lead-up, the song will be really slow, calm, and then when they start fighting, that's when the beat drops and the sing picks up the pace and gets really angry. Um, we have a few songs that go like that already, but none of them would fit this scene. I've been taking notes, I hope that's okay. It's just so later on we can have a rap session and-"

Takahashi cuts you off by holding up a finger, instantly shutting you up. You try not to retract into yourself when you feel haunting presences on either side of you. "Sorry, l/n, to interrupt. But I was thinking that Oikawa and Sato could have a sit-down meeting with the band. That way, they can talk to you about their characters and give you as much information possible to make the soundtrack that much more accurate. What do you say?"

You take a step back so you can face the newcomers, your heart falling into your stomach. "Oh, that's... Um, we don't-"

"I think it's a great idea!" Emiko exclaims with a grin, wrapping an arm around Oikawa's. She outstretches a hand for you to shake. "We haven't met properly. I'm a huge fan! What are the chances of this, right? I mean, I didn't think that you guys would accept when I suggested REVIVAL."

Your jaw drops at her statement. "What? You recommended us?"

An arm wraps around your neck, Rin giving Emiko as fake of a smile as he could muster. "Wow. I have to say, that's a bit of a surprise."

An awkward laugh slips past Oikawa's lips. "I was surprised too. We don't have to have meetings or anything. I don't want you to feel awkward or uncomfortable in the workplace."

Immediately, you straighten yourself up and wrap your arm around Rin's waist. You smile widely up at Oikawa. "We have no reason to feel uncomfortable. Do you feel uncomfortable, Rinnie?"

He shakes his head and agrees with you, matching your expression. "Nope. Not unless Oikawa had any ill feelings about it. Do you?"

Emiko looks up at him expectantly, trying to fight her smile from growing any wider.

"Not at all."

"Great. How about tomorrow after we finish up? We'll let Atsumu know," you say, looking over your shoulder when the door swings open behind you. Atsumu steps in slower than expected considering the amount of force he put into opening the door. He carefully strides over to you, and you have to stop yourself from laughing. "Um, I'll go... See what's wrong."

Rin pats you on the back as you walk away, raising your eyebrows at the guitarist. Suspiciously, you stop him from walking any further. "What's wrong with you?"

Atsumu shrugs his shoulders innocently, looking around himself. "Nothing."

"You look like you've shit yourself."

He gasps, crossing his arms over his chest. "Ya look like ya grown a boyfriend." He cringes, shrinking back into himself at his words. "I mean..."

"Rude much? Your breath stinks. Did you..." You look behind yourself to where Rin still stands with the others, appearing to be scaring the shit out of Oikawa. You lower your voice, leaning in closer to take a proper smell. "God, you did. How much did you drink?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "Had to make up for the fact I won't get many more breaks," he mumbles, ducking his head.

Shaking your head, you hand him a stick of gum before approaching Rin once again. "Sorry. He's actually a child. But we're all game if you are?"

Through gritted teeth, Oikawa plasters on a smile. "Perfect. See you tomorrow."

masterlist. previous | next

summary. as a world-famous singer, everyone knows everything about all of your relationships. namely, your renowned on-again/off-again relationship with one tooru oikawa. it’s hard not to when every song you write is about him. but no one truly knows all of the gory details of all your dirty breakups, except from the two of you. and after announcing in a drunken red-carpet interview that you never want to see his face again, everyone starts desperately searching for the truth behind your twisted relationship. and just when you think you can escape these rumours, in comes a job opportunity your band can’t turn down.

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