#bocw smut

[butterfly-stitches]

AMERICAN DREAMING.

[ Explicit MDNI ]

AO3

Pairings: Russell Adler / Bell, Russell Adler / Reader Russell Adler & Bell, Russell Adler & Reader Ensemble: Russell Adler, Bell (Call of Duty), Female!Bell, Reader

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence ☁️ Major Character Death ☁️ Memory Loss ☁️ False Memories ☁️ Brainwashing ☁️ Past Brainwashing ☁️ Identity Issues ☁️ Loss of Identity ☁️ Depression ☁️ Dissociation ☁️ Psychological Trauma ☁️ Medical Trauma ☁️ Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD ☁️ Flashbacks ☁️ Stockholm Syndrome ☁️ Hurt/Comfort ☁️ Hurt No Comfort ☁️ Sad Ending ☁️ Character Death ☁️ Older Man/Younger Woman ☁️ Parenthood ☁️ Family Dynamics ☁️ Family Bonding ☁️ Made For Each Other ☁️ Oral Sex ☁️ Penis In Vagina Sex ☁️ POV Second Person > Other Additional Tags to Be Added <

Synopsis: Life is but a dream… Fleeting, inconsequential. A stone unburdened by the snowfall of winter and snowmelt of spring. Like a river it flowed, a surging tributary of memory and memoir. Ever going, never ceasing. But to you, life was not fleeting nor inconsequential. Life was not dreamlike. To live, was to suffer. To suffer, was to live.

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Chapter 1: reality, reverie.

Words: 20,020 Chapters: 1/1 Summary: In which you face reality and reverie …

Something wasn’t right.

Even in the embrace of sleep, just on the verge of consciousness, you could tell. Warm, comfortable. Cozy even,  and… safe. That alone made you stir, shifting against the confines of something that held you close. Too close. Restrictive, digging into your skin. Suffocated you. Drowning, you were drowning. No, you were being dragged underneath the water. Again, you stirred. Struggled against the hold. Again and again. But to no end, as you were only being dragged down further into dark waters. Still, you fought against the restraints you couldn’t see. Freeing within yourself a sudden violence armed with teeth and claws. A trapped, aggressive beast awakened after all this time.

You fought. Fought hard, fought strong and desperately. But, it still wasn’t enough to free yourself. Further and further, like deadweight, a stone thrown into a lake, you free fall into the deep, dark depths below. Light above you, fading away in the darkness. Your lungs burned, nostrils flared. Everything in you, ached for oxygen, choking for air. Pressure built into your chest, heavier and heavier, threatening to split your ribcage open. Screams silenced by water, your mouth filling with water. Air bubbles escaped your open maw, your frantic releases of breath leaving an effervesced trail as you sunk. Buried in a watery grave, pressurized and all consuming. Death was slow. Your death was inevitable like grave soil being thrown over your coffin. 

Your sight blackened but you thrashed about still, screaming and fighting in the throes of inevitable death. Then you heard it. A symphony of sounds, echoing like a whale song. Cacophonous and jarring as it reverberated in your bones and repeated in your head. An evocative vocalization that you began to understand, to recognize. It called to you, spoke a name. ‘Bell, Bell, Bell’   it said, repeating over and over like a mantra. From a voice that you knew wholeheartedly, deep down in the intertwisted threads of the tapestry of soul and flesh. Something reached for you, strong against your skin. Pulling you up and out of the water. You jolted awake. Bleary-eyed and fearful. Everything around you was but a blur of colors and shapes. A warbling in waterlogged ears, a chorus of inharmonious noise. 

Your world was rendered all but a kaleidoscope of sight and sound. A clarity absent to your senses and sensibilities. But touch, though averse and scarce, was not beyond you. It was a deliberate feeling that you focused on, even as your body ached like sunken stones. Something held you down still, something tangled around your body, constricting like a boa. The hold you felt was trapping, capturing. Freedom revoked. It made you start to panic, fighting against its hold again. That viciousness returned like a cornered animal. All tooth and claw. Running on survival, guided by a pure instinctual reaction.

“Bell!”

At that name, at the voice in your ear, you immediately stilled. Chest heaving with your heavy intakes of air. There was something solid behind you, holding you tight against it. A respiring that matched your own until it synced with you. Something that was living, breathing. All blood, bone and skin just like you. A warmth emanated into you, one that you couldn’t help but indulge in. You were shivering, all shaking bones, quivering lips and sheened with cold perspiration. In the lingering feeling of being underwater. Doused in freezing water. 

With a stuttering breath, you leaned back into a wide chest, the weight of burly arms around you providing you a heaviness that was more comforting than it was tenacious. Like the singing of a mother after a nightmare. It brought you back down within the gravity of reality, the weight of the world settling onto you. And you felt yourself relax. All fight leaving you as you fell limp against the person holding you. Racing hearts beat into a slow thrum. Skin pressed into skin, your shaking gone. Your sight began to clear, the instinctual takeover of your brain waning away like fog over a harbor with the onset of sunrise. Yet even then… you were still held, embraced. Allowed you the time to adjust, to process your surroundings. To recognize the illusions of dreamscape, the falsehood of truth in the face of actuality.

You were in unfamiliar surroundings. In a bright bedroom, on a bed. Early morning sun peeking through the window curtains behind you, streaked across the white wall in front of you; streams of sunlight washing over the room and onto your body. The sheets beneath you stuck to your clammy skin, your thin nightgown like a second skin. Duvet tossed away, a throw blanket tangled around your legs. The warbling in your ears, nothing but birdsong. That voice in your head, belonged to the body behind you. Who had you in their arms, limbs around your own.

You took a breath, inhaling. Smelt the familiar scent of salted skin and a faint musk. Deep like leather and aftershave. Cedarwood and bergamot; a rich smokiness that filled your lungs. Though comforting, evoking a sudden feeling of safety, such a scent was like smelling salts to your disoriented mind. You were wide awake now, though still uncertain if not confused. A sudden soft yet loud banging on wood, and you instantly recoiled, tensing up with panic. Your eyes darted to the door along the wall you faced. Fight-or-flight response started to take hold again. A firm squeeze of arms around you and you leave the trap of your mind, of your ingrained instincts, even as the banging on the door continued, voices calling on the other side. 

“Bell.” The person behind you said, warm breath against your neck. A word that made you attentive, responsive. It was spoken firmly, yet gentle. You focused on the voice, the body pressed against yours. Coming down from your panic attack as you calmed down. Breathing slowed but your body still tensed by the noise, alarmed. Gradually and gingerly, you were released. The body pressed into yours moved away, the warmth at your back disappearing. In the blur of the sun, you watched as the person entered your sight, heading towards the door. A man; tall, wide-shouldered and bare-chested. Disheveled hair shimmered like gold. The expanse of a broad, muscled back tensed as he turned around. 

You watched as he opened the door. Slow and careful. Using his body to block the opening from the voices on the other side as if to protect you, hide you away from prying eyes. As if the voices would burst through the door forcefully. It seemed like that rang true, was an expectation, as something did try to dart inside only to be stopped by the man. Whatever it was that wanted in, protested, verbalized their displeasure at him. But the man was adamant with his tone, assertive with his position. Yet just as gentle as his words were with you. Hushed voices, questions answered briefly, low spoken words. Too quiet for you to overhear. Whatever the man had said to them seemed to work as the voices quieted and silhouettes disappeared from the doorway and the pattering of feet sounded down the hall.

Running a hand down his face, the man closed the door, making sure to lock it. He turned, eyes glancing at your rising form before he dipped away into a side room. You heard the rush of water from a sink and less than a minute later, heavy footsteps on the carpet towards your side of the bed. You straightened up as he stood over you, something in his hand and you reacted. Scooted backwards, clawing at the sheets in an attempt to escape. Kicked out your legs as the man reached over, the beginning of a scream forming in your abraded throat.

“You need to calm down.”

But you couldn’t. Violence was all you knew, all you were. A wild animal deep down inside, hidden behind the façade of domestication and domesticity. 

“Bell.”

A pet’s name, a moniker he saddled upon you. Straining at the leash to get away, you crawled further to the other side of the bed, on his side of the bed. The warmth from his body still radiating from his spot, seeping into you as your palms tightened around the sheets. He gave you a disapproving look as if you were nothing more than a misbehaving dog — his disobedient pet. One he was determined to bring back to heel. Your eyes were on him as he slowly sat on the edge of the bed, opposite of you, the mattress dipping with his weight. He held a damp towel in his hands, showing it to you. Letting you know what he had was innocuous. But you remained in your far corner, unconvinced. 

You studied him from afar, watching every little movement of his. Anything to signal danger and warrant a reaction from you. He was patient nonetheless. But something in you knew that wasn’t typical, accustomed to his persistent, proactive nature. A go-getter who was on the verge of fanatical and obsessional in his pursuits. But the longer you watched him, stared at him. The more you wracked around your brain. The more you became nostalgic. A remembrance tingled in the back of your head. He was no stranger to you. No threat. 

He read you easily it seemed. Called out for you again. Bell . Your name on his tongue, a gentleness, a fondness just for you. You only watched as he reached forward to you, for you. You were face-to-face now as he settled next to you. In the sun, in the warm glow of the early morning, you saw him for who he was. Who you remembered. His name was on the tip of your tongue. You searched his face; all scar-faced, square-jawed, stone-faced, and blue-eyed features of him.

“Adler.” You whispered. 

He pressed the damp towel to your forehead, wiping away the beads of sweat. The sudden coolness made you flinch. You tried to move from it, but his hand went to your chin. Held it firm, keeping your head still as he tapped it along your brow. 

“Adler.” You said again, more to yourself than anything. 

He stopped, mouth pressed into a line as sharp eyes flicked down to you. You went slack in his grip, eyes fluttering. You pressed yourself into his body, tucking your head underneath his chin. Though he was surprised by it, Adler didn't protest. He wrapped his arms around you, your face in the crook of his neck. Taking in the smell of him greedily. Adler pulled you down with him, onto the bed. Broken memories played, too quick to grasp, too minimal comprehend but enough to give rise to some sort of response. An ache in your chest, conflicting emotions. But above all else, you clung to the arms around you. The only thing that gave you a sense of solidity, of feeling real. Your name again spoke above you, into your hair, and Adler pulled away slightly, looking down at you as he rose up, pulling you with him. With you still curled into his chest. 

“You need to take your medication.”  

You only pressed yourself harder into his chest, the speckling of hair there scratched against your cheek with your nuzzling. 

“Bell.” 

Gently, Adler pried you away. A hand on your shoulder, as he held you inches from himself. Dark blue eyes on your face. Whatever he saw there, whatever expression you showed, made his eyes narrow and his mouth twist.  

“Your medication. You need to take it.”

You blinked up at him, processing what he said. From his slow unfurling palm, he revealed a capped syringe. An unknown liquid in its barrel. Your eyes widened, panic coming once again as alarms bells blared in your head. Realizing that he had hidden it underneath the towel, right underneath your nose. Like a dog’s medicine hid within a treat. Betrayal simmered, over the fear. And his face hardened at your realization. 

“Focus, Bell. I need you to focus.” 

Your eyes flicked to him, then back down to the syringe in his hand. Inattentive, unsure. Your mind fought against itself. Trust and mistrust, a cocktail like oil and water in your mind. His hand gripped your shoulder harder, nails into your skin as you began to pull back. Cowering from the raised hand holding your medication. Memories again, more debilitating than before. They played like a broken cassette tape in your head, experiencing them again as if renewed, reimagined. A touch of death that stained you, a resuscitation that saved you. Blood on your tongue, swollen nose seeping into your mouth — bleeding wounds.

Metal chairs, gurneys. Interrogation rooms, your reflection — bloodied and bruised — stared back at you in the dark glass. Red, white and blue. The national colors of bloodletting, of broken bones, of sorrow sown. Threats and questions. Questions you refused, threats you disregarded. Drowning, you were drowning like before. Dragged forcefully underneath dark waters, swallowing you whole. A drumming noise inside your head, a ringing in your ear. The water didn't drown it out, only amplified the overwhelming din and it only grew louder and louder inside your pounding head.

A sudden sharp pressure in your eye socket and you squirmed against the person that held you down. Your eyelid forced open as it slowly sunk into your cerebral. You grit your teeth, grinding your jaw against your molars. Then you screamed but you were soundless; mouth opened in a voiceless wail. As quickly as it came, the sensation subsided and the needle was carefully pulled from your cornea. The afflicted eye stung from the intravitreal injection. Then, a strange tranquility befell you, reined you in. Stopped your aggression. A calloused hand cupped your face softly, turning your head to the side. A worried look on his face as Adler scrutinized where the needle went into your eye, the needle just missing the blood vessels from all your movement.

His sweaty body was over you, you soon noticed. Panting down on you with uneven breaths. His other hand held your arms across your chest, his legs tangled with yours. Keeping them pinned to stop you from thrashing and kicking out at him. Adler moved away as you came to, giving you space. Letting you rise up on your own. He sat back, moving to the other side of the bed again, watching you intently from the distance he put between you two. You, yourself, took deep breaths, trying to steady your breathing and slow your rising pulse. A heavy silence waned in the bedroom, the mingled heavy breathing of both you and Adler was the only sound in the bed space. The morning sun sat higher in the sky now, shining down harder in the room, and onto you both. Noises outside the bedroom, more voices and a pattering of feet. A restlessness that beckoned you towards it. You turned towards Adler, who met your eyes. His body leaned forward, his hand reached out slow and onto your bare knee. And squeezed it. 

“Bell.” Your eyes rose from his hand on your knee, to his face. Focusing on him.

The next words that he spoke, made you falter. A strange conglomerate of distant phonics, of harsh sounding syllables. A Slavic language. One that made your ears perk up, though you struggled to understand what he was saying to you. But it wasn’t foreign to you, you knew it deep down inside. You could feel the rhythm of the language. It thrummed in you, spoke to the blood that rushed into your veins. Russian . You could speak it naturally, fluently. Your mouth opened, lips dry and throat raspy. Tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth. Questions existing, but words were lost to you. Adler stood from the bed, walking back into the bathroom. He returned with a disposable paper cup full of water, a couple of pills in his hand. 

“Pain relievers.” He explained in Russian, answering the questioning look you gave him.  

You took them from him, making a show of swallowing them down as he watched you take mouthfuls of the cool water. When you drank all the water in the cup, he left to fill it up again. And you gulped it all down, your parched mouth and dry throat relieved by the drink. He took the cup from you when you were satisfied, setting it on the nightstand next to him. You both stared silently at each other, things unspoken. What transpired weighed down heavily on the both of you. Your gaze flicked down from his face, to his scarred lips, down to his chest, to his arms. Wholly taking in the sight of him. An awful realization and then sudden shamefulness overcame you as you tore your eyes away, to the hands in your lap. He scooted closer to you and you met his eyes again, admiring the blue of them. But you couldn’t help it when your eyes wandered back to the marks that littered all on his skin. Red welts and scratches, bumps and bruises forming. All by you.

“I’m sorry.” The apology was rough sounding still, Russian wobbly on your tongue. 

Adler hummed. Letting your fingers trace along all the marks on his chest, around the dried blood of crescent marks of his arms when your nails had dug into them. All the way to the small bruises and finally to a bite mark on his wrist.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”  You told him. 

“ I know .” He reassured, his chest rumbling as he let out a soft hum. Your fingers traced back up to his face, lingering over the deep trenches of a lightning strike scar, and stopping to a contusion forming on the underside of his strong  jaw. Your fingertips ghosted over it in your studying.

“Haven’t gotten hit like that in a while.”

You knew it was an attempt to lighten the mood, but you couldn’t help but let it wound you. Deflated, you tried to move and pull your hand away from his jaw but his hand was quick to clasp over your own. So easily Adler enveloped it entirely, holding both against his bruising jaw. Yet you still couldn’t meet his eyes. 

“Bell.”

Back to English now, as he intertwined your fingers together, moving both your hands from his jaw to his rough lips. Turning them, to kiss the back of your knuckles. But something else caught your scrying eyes, marks on your own skin. All over your arms. Scratches and welts similar to the ones on the man in front of you. All from yourself, all self-afflicted. 

Silently, Adler cleaned up your scratches and cuts. You didn’t flinch as he did. Unfazed by the cold sting of the cotton ball across them. Soaked in disinfectant that he pulled from the first aid kit, retrieved from underneath the bathroom sink moments ago. You watched him care for you, inspecting each inch of skin, and tend to your wounds. So attentively, so… lovingly . That realization made something stir within you, in the confines of a twisted soul. Deep seated, deep rooted. Bile rose in your throat. Wrong, this was all wrong. It wasn’t right. Wrongness you felt underneath it all. By the way your skin crawled, the hair on your nape standing on ends, and muscles tensed up. Fight or flight instinct on overdrive.

D̷̡̫̯̪̺͚̬̥̘̭̻͈̼̐͌͒o̷̹̻͚͔͇̠̓͛̉̂͐̿̐̔̒̈́̚͜͠͝͝ ̵̨̱̬̰̰̺̝̠̐̍̀̐͐̉͒̆̾̽͂̽̏n̵̯͐̊̓̊̉͑͛̽͊̅͝ó̴͖̝͍̩͊̏ț̸̢̬̪̙̯͎̝́̃̓̒̈́͋͜͠͝ ̵̢̟͊̐̓̅͋̒͝t̸͚͐̎r̸̢̼͔̜͒̃́̃́͋̐̓̏̒̇̕ȗ̶̬̓̇̇s̶̨͙̘͇͓̗̯̓͊̾̈̂̿̎͛̏̃͛͘͘͜͜͠͝t̴̜͙̗̺̯̘͍͎͓̮̱̤̣̝̔ ̷̨̝͔̻͕͉͔͙̔͆̃̄͛̃̿̃̚̚͝A̶͔̘̟͓͙͊̋͐̆̓̕͠d̵̛̲̲̯̫͇̘̱̿̈́̂͜l̴̯̫̠͚̗̺̞̀̄̈́e̸̢̢̥̩̦͓͕̣͎͍̞̞̦̦̮̗͐̃̏̓̄̈́̚͜r̸̢̲̦̼̗͙͆͛̔̓́̅̈͊̋̕͘͘̚̚͝

Lies. Lies, all of it lies. This wasn’t real. Nothing was. You looked around, saw everything for what it was. Head pounding, memories that weren’t your own stuffed in your head. You were a shell of a woman, a discarded shed of old skin repurposed. Disturbed metamorphosis, an empty chrysalis, from where a butterfly would have emerged, unfurling its wings for flight, only to be picked open like a old wound and swallowed up. Hollowed out until all that kept you together was the name given to you and the person who gave it to you. This wasn’t you, you weren’t this… Bell. And this man in front of you who tended to you so delicately, wasn’t the savior you saw him as. Not a pure and noble heart, but had one as black as night. You didn’t know him, not truly. He was not your safety, not the gravity keeping you on your feet. 

You should loathe him, you should fear him. You shouldn’t trust the man in front of you. You knew it all as true. 

But love and hate always tasted the same to you. 

Hadn’t it?

“Who I am?” You asked as he tended to your throat, where you had clawed and scratched at it in your sleep. Adler stopped and looked at you then. Quiet as the weight of your words settled onto him, while weighing out his own. 

“Bell.” Adler soon replied, bringing your intertwined hands to his torso, over the red scratches across the expanse of his chest, right to the center. Where his heart beat against your open palm. “You’re Bell.”

Noisiness from behind the door again, shadows moving underneath the door frame, knocking on the door’s wood more rapidly in succession. More impatient. A harsh sigh left Adler’s scarred lips in response. He stood from the bed, packing away the first aid materials back into the plastic kit box. Tucked it underneath the bed frame. 

“You should lay down and rest.” Adler grabbed the duvet from the floor and pulled it over your bare legs. You blinked at the action, at him. His form disappeared into another space in the bedroom then back out. A walk-in closet you realized. Staring at his back as Adler pulled a shirt over his head and headed towards the door.

“I’m dangerous.” You told him in English, Russian was suddenly sour on your tastebuds. “I can’t trust myself. I don’t know who I am.”

“Then trust me.” He said, exhaustion was clear on his careworn face. Bags underneath his eyes. But there was something there, beneath his words. An undercurrent in the baritone of his voice… something akin to defeat in his tone. A vulnerability that you recognized, a weakness mirrored within yourself. Something you both buried away within yourselves. You swallowed then, running your tongue across your teeth. You shouldn’t put your trust in him, or believe his words. Yet… and yet. Without another word, you nodded at him. You believed him.

Adler ran a hand through his hair, brushing it back. In a semblance of tidiness. 

“Lay down and rest.” Adler repeated, hand on the doorknob as he gave you a once over. “I’ll wrangle the kids.”

Your head snapped to his face, eyes wide like saucers. 

“ Kids ?!” You repeated as if such a word was foreign to you, even spoken in your mother tongue.

Adler gave you a look, lips pressed tight together. Knuckles whitened as his hand flexed around the turned doorknob. 

“Yes. I’ll deal with them. Just… please lay down. You need to rest up.”

At your speechlessness, and with a one last longing look, Adler left the bedroom, closing the door behind him. But even as he left, you were still sitting up, staring at the door right where he had stood moments ago. You heard muffled sounds behind the door, far down in the hallway. You blinked, feeling your body start to slacken, your body heeding Adler’s words as you nestled into the covers. Right on his side of the bed. The blankets and pillows still smelt of him. A scent that, like the smoking of a beehive, calmed the thoughts swarming around in your skull. You closed your eyes, relaxing, but it wasn’t enough to slumber. The sensation of sinking, of being dragged down, down, down. Made you afraid to fully commit to sleep once more. Still you laid in bed, underneath the blankets. Basked in his warmth and smell. 

But eventually, you grew restless, tossing and turning. Felt his absence deep inside. You threw the covers away from yourself, standing on shaky legs towards the bathroom. Then to the bedroom door, wrapping a silk bathrobe you grabbed on your way out around your nightgown. You stared at the door. The edges of your surroundings started to fade away around you as it stared back at you. The sensation was jarring, like freefalling. A loss of gravity. You had to move away, stepping back until you felt the bed behind you. You sat on it for a moment, letting the motion sickness and the upturning of your stomach peter out.

Facing the door once more, you took a breath and grabbed the doorknob. The door shook, rattling against its hinges from your touch as you tried to pry it open. But to no avail. Trapped, you are trapped. You pressed your hands onto the wood, pushing against it. Beneath your palms, the door creaked and then it cracked. Fissures in the wood grain, splitting open as the layers started to peel like wood shavings. Rot and corrosion bloomed by your hand, by your simple touch. Like stab wounds, from the cracks in the door a deep scarlet poured out. Stained the wood grain darker. The smell of metal in the air. And before you knew it, the wood door was gone, wasted away. But in its wake was another door. A red metal door like the ones leading to an underground bunker. It beckoned you. Whispered to you, called you in an accented voice that sounded far too familiar. A faraway memory. It said your name, your true name. One you had long forgotten. An itch in the recesses of your mind, a jolt down your spinal cord. A hesitancy in your step, in your hand that hovered over the metal door bar. Fascination or recognition, you couldn’t tell what drove you forward. You lifted the bar up with an audible click, pushing against it until it opened. 

You went through, blinded by a bright light on the other side. Behind the door, you were met with a long hallway that stretched on and on. Miles upon miles. Faint laughter echoed from the end of it and you walked forward, following the sound. Just when you thought you reached the end of the hallway, it grew longer. The end was more imperceivable than before, indeterminate in its entirety. Seemingly going on and on indefinitely as you stared down the way. But still you continued onwards, voices in the distance. Although it was nothing but a maze of white walls, white tiles, and linoleum flooring. 

There were wide windows all along the length of the long hall, a consistent width apart. The windows peeked into lab rooms full of medical equipment, surgical tools, flickering projectors in the ceiling, and T.V.s sat on metallic utility carts; cassette tapes stuck in their players. You stopped at one of the windows, looking inside, curious. You scanned around but like a moth to a flame, an old habit, your eyes instantly trained to the T.V. display, waiting expectantly. The streams of static on the screen flickered. A bell clanged, white noise in your ears. Fixated on the sudden flashing images, the pieces of war footage playing then it stuttered, only to rewind and start again. 

A single exhale and blink of dry eyes, and you were suddenly inside the room. Strapped down to an integration chair. You tested the restraints, feeling how they cut into the circulation of your wrists and ankles. Another clamor rang out, and your body sat straight in the seat, expectant and attentive. Pavlovian conditioning —  a dog that waited for their kibble. The display screen flicked on in front of you. Like staring into an endless void, on a blackhole’s event horizon, your surroundings melted away and your body jerked forward. Pulled into a fierce orbit, lunged headfirst through the playing T.V. screen. Warped into some sort of dark backroom.

Two projectors, right beside each other, both sat on small wooden tables on either side of where you stood. Their lights converged, shone nothing onto a single projector screen in front of you. There were a few show slides slotted into both of their compartments, in random order, in different spacings. All you needed to do was change the slides and the projectors would display them on the screen. You changed the slides on the projector to your left, it clicked a couple times as you rotate by the empty slots to the first inputted slide. The left slide showcased a split image, the other half missing like a photo torn into two pieces. It was hard for you to make out the image, to grasp what it showcased. You stared at it for a beat, before moving to the projector to your right. Flicked through its rotation, the first slide of it closer in slot than the left one.

Then the display was completed, the other half of the image found. Whatever it showed, whatever it was, grew clearer the longer you stared at it. Red, you saw red. Another red bunker door. You stepped forward towards the projector screen, confused just as you were intrigued. In front of it now, your body in front of the projector lights doesn’t cast a shadow onto the image or screen. As if you were non-corporeal, a ghost lost in limbo. But unlike you, the display image of the red bunker door wasn’t intangible. You reached forward and pulled the handle bar up. And it opened and you walked through it. 

A sequence of fading whispers, a little girl’s giggle, while you looked around your new surroundings. Dark, damp, and dank. A cavern, like a hollowed out chest missing its heart. Stalagmites and stalactites jutted out like jagged teeth, water dripping from the ceiling above, trickling down and pooled in the eroded stone. You heard something moving in the cave, somewhere in the dark, slow and steady, like the dragging of chains across the floor. More childlike giggling from afar, and the noises got louder, more disturbing. Inhuman and innumerable. Feet shuffling onwards, a thousand marching on. Dripping liquid onto the cave floor, louder than the cave condensation. Of a removed heart, still bleeding and beating outside the body. You gathered yourself, looking around in the dark. Tried to pinpoint the sound’s source in the dark, squinting but you couldn’t even see even an inch in front of your face. 

You backed away, until your foot caught something on the floor. You reached down for it, patting around the rock empty-handed until your fingers brush against something cold. It is heavy in your hands, but the feel is familiar. A pistol and an extra mag, loaded already but with the safety lock in place. You held it, old training coming back to you like clockwork. A flashlight attachment on your pistol flicked on wasn’t enough to penetrate the dark. From the shadows, eyes glowed like they do on trail cams. Predators on the hunt. You shined your flashlight to them, only to see rotten bodies. Flesh falling off the bone, gray skin – stringy and gamey. Walking dead. Rumbling roars and screams from ripped open throats. The rapid resonate of dragging limbs, peeling flesh, congealed blood splattered in globs. 

They all lunged forward on decaying legs, too quick to be natural. You dropped a few of them with shots to the head and torso, they dropped like sandbags only to be trampled over by the others, their positions replaced. But they only kept coming and coming, and your pistol soon clicked, the chamber empty. You run, legs shaky on the uneven rocky surface. Deeper and deeper into the cave you went, kiting them through. Glowing eyes right behind you. You reloaded your last mag, shooting the ones leading the pack then running forward to gain distance. You went until your lungs burned, your legs aching. Until your pistol was empty, the flashlight attachment dimming out. But ahead, in the dark, a blaring light. An escape route. A bunker door, the light at the end of the  tunnel. 

You were sprinting to it, the once wide cave seeming to get smaller. Gradually, the surrounding cave walls narrowed around you. You had to slow, to squeeze through the gaps and holes, the sight of the bunker door in the distance are only glimpses now behind the small openings. A crowd of dead right on your trail, a misstep, a moment of being too slow, and they would catch you. You were hyperventilating now, your skin abraded and cut from squeezing yourself through the narrow gapes and crevices. But the light was closer, the bunker door just out of reach ahead of you. Your body against a stone wall, pressing against the solid form. One with no opening.

Animalistic roars echoed against the rock and stone catching up to you. Dimming light of the flashlight scanned around the wall, anything that dictated a path forward as you desperately searched around. Shining on a pile of loose stone at your feet. You wasted no time, no effort. Dropping the empty gun, low light shining to the dark behind you. You clawed on the rock formation, pushing and rolling away heavy stones. Uncaring as your fingernails were chipped and torn from the nail roots. Leaving bloody handprints behind onto the discarded stone surfaces. 

Underneath the rubble, was a crawl space uncovered  in the stone wall. Cramped and claustrophobic but without nowhere else to go, the undead behind you as encouragement, and you went on your belly. Squeezing yourself into the passageway. You crawled on, forcing yourself through even when the space grew smaller around you, compressing down onto your body. It became harder to breathe in such a tight space. You were panicking, breathing uneven. The crawl space constricted, like a fist around your throat. Something reached in behind you, arms extended to grab for you. A mass of rotting hands outstretched, bodies colliding as they tried to enter the small spacing all at once. They clawed and crawled, teeth gnashing against their loosening  jowls behind you; fingers grasping out for you. A bear trap around your foot as multiple hands curled around one of your legs. Hauled you back, your skin scraping against the stone. You kicked out at them, fingers digging into rock for purchase. Sharp pointed stones, loosened by your movement, cut into your body as you were dragged back.

But you saw it ahead of you. A distant light, a red door – opened. And you saw him. Adler on the other side of the door. Standing, staring. Waiting for you. You called out to him, but to no avail. You were voiceless and he remained there in the doorway. The tear of fabric being ripped, cracked teeth sunk into flesh. The burst of skin breaking. Pain in your leg, shooting up your spinal cord. One of them had your leg in what remained of their mouth, as others clawed at your bare calf. You were being eaten alive, torn apart, dragged back. You fought against them still, kicking and shaking your captured leg as much as you could in the small space. You were tired, bleeding out. Still you pulled yourself through the crawlspace, eyes frontward. Towards Adler who awaited you. A final push, a final effort and you were on the other side. Your extraction within reach. 

You grabbed a rock, between both hands, and down onto the undead hanging off your leg like a tick. You brought the stone down and the head caved it, split open like overripe fruit. But even then, it didn’t let you go. You brought the stone down again and again, until the head was nothing but a splatter of brains and shattered skull pieces on the stone. The hands around your leg were next, as you slammed the stone onto the rotting arms until they snapped at the elbow joint. Limbs loosened on you, as they fell to the side, lifeless. Freeing you. You crawled backwards. Yellow glowing eyes deep in the crawlspace, bodies conjoined and mutilated, forced into a single space. More arms outstretched from the other side, growls and screams in your ears. 

You pushed yourself onto your feet, limping. Hobbled forward as fast as you could, adrenaline numbing the pain. You called Adler’s name, relieved, exhausted. You get closer and closer, your blood swirling into the ankle deep pool you push yourself through. On the threshold now, and the image of Adler grew fuzzy. Red, red, red. He was a maroon figure, his face was blurred. Like a glitch, a horizontal blear twisting his identity. The door slammed shut, metal mechanisms inside shifting and grinding as it locked in place. You called out to him, pounding your bloody fists against the metal. The metal handle bar unmoving as you pushed it. Rumbling roars and screams, bodies yanked themselves out from the crawlspace. Inflamed eyes in the dark. You pushed and pulled, banging on the door. Blood prints on the metal, a darker red smeared all over. Screaming, wailing. Adler, Adler, Adler . But he was never there to save you. Only to drag you down, down, down. Deeper in hell and to keep you there. Laughter, laughter all around you. The undead were laughing at you, cackling like hyenas in the deep of night. 

You pushed the bar up once more, desperate and frantic. Underneath your fingers, the door starts rusting, metal oxidizing. Painting peeled away. Door handle rusted in place. Still you pushed, all your might, all your effort. Flakes of verdigris crumbled, falling like ash on your skin. The handle squealed, corroded metal grinding against each other, as the mechanisms are forced to move. The metal handle snapped in your hand, but the door creaked open; Not fully but with a sliver of opening. The bash of your shoulder against the bunker door and it moved gradually, hanging off of its hinges, the bottom of the door scraping against the doorstop. The dead scrambled to you, limbs missing, slower than before. 

But you made enough of an opening to squeeze yourself through it and you push yourself through. Falling onto your hands and knees onto the other side. You looked up to see a stipple ceiling. Sun on your face, plush carpet against your palms. No pain in your leg, no scrapes on your body. Elbows and knees unscathed. Shoulder not dislocated from your battering against metal. You looked behind you only to see a wooden door ajar and a bedroom behind you. A girl’s laugh in the distance filled your ears. 

But it felt real. All of it felt real. Too real, to be nothing but night horrors.

“Mommy?”

A small voice down the hall and you snapped your head to it. A small child at the end of the hallway stared at you. Face dipped in shadow, features obscured. You were frozen, still on your knees. Head pounding, confused. But something inside you tugged at the title. A mother’s love, a mother’s embrace. A mother’s sacrifice. The child scurried down the hallway towards you and you recoiled. A phantom pain in your leg and you reached down for a weapon at your side that wasn’t there. The child jumped to a stop, looking down at you with big, blue eyes as you tensed up. 

“Mommy, why are you on the floor?”

Silent and still, you were emotionless, motionless. An uneasiness that made your body stiffen. Your mouth opened but you couldn’t speak. The child watched you curiously, attention waning as they balanced on the balls of their feet. Soon the child joined you, kneeling down. From the way they smiled, the child thought it was a game. 

“You can’t be on the floor, silly.” The child chastised and you only stared at them. Grubby hands outstretched. 

You expected them to claw you, to rip open your skin. But they only grabbed your wrist. With all their strength, they tug on your hand, trying to help you up. It took you a moment to process it as anything but a threat to you. Gradually, you stood up as the child helped. Who thought it was because of them that you were able to get up. You didn't pull your hand away, even as the child intertwined their own. You let them lead you down the hall, the smell of food wafting ahead of you both. The child took you into the living room. You recognized the blonde man in the kitchen next to the living area. Who stirred something on the stovetop, whatever it was that he was cooking, smelt delicious despite your nausea. 

“I found her!”

The child announced, letting your hand go and bouncing like a bunny to Adler. The child tugged at his shirt, pointing to you with a toothy grin. Adler’s head snapped towards you hovering in the threshold of the hall. A pointed look aimed straight at you, sharp eyes narrowed, and mouth pressed tight. Another face appeared, bounding from the living room. Another child. Taller, older than the first. They smiled at you, shyer. But went to you nonetheless, hugging your waist. Eyelashes framed over blue eyes,  staring up at you. 

“Now we can go have a picnic!” The youngest exclaimed, beaming up at the man in the kitchen. Obviously too excited to be contained as they hopped up and down. Using the countertops for stability.

Adler patted the child’s head, stopping his jumping up and down with a firm hand. Eyes still on you. “Not today. Your mother’s sick, she needs to rest.”

There was a command there. A jab at you that made your skin prickle.

“But you promised.” The child whined on. The oldest around your waist made a disappointed sound too.  “You said we can go.”

“I know I did. But not today, kiddo. We can go next time.”

Both children sulked, huffing and awing at Adler. But Adler didn’t relent, absolute with his decision. He walked forward, his shoulders tensed. A few steps and he was stood in front of you. His attention went to the oldest at your hip. 

“Come on.” He jutted his chin to the side, a gesture for them to move away. “Let your mom go. She needs to go back to bed.”

You didn’t know what overcame you as your arm wrapped around the child’s body, protectively. Keeping them in place, close to you as you took a step forward. The action doesn’t go unnoticed by Adler. He stared at you, eyes flitting down to your hand clutching to the child’s pajama shirt. You had trouble reading what he was feeling, what he was thinking. Yet Adler had always been like that, you thought. Difficult to read, to predict and to understand. Like you.

“We should go.” You finally said, your voice shaky and raspy. A clearing of your throat and you steeled your spine. “Let’s go have a picnic, Adler.”

The children audibly agreed. You released the oldest that clung to you as they moved and joined the youngest at Adler’s side, who was tugging on his shirt, begging and pleading. He was displeased, you could tell. But you challenged him nonetheless, eyes meeting his own. A chorus of: ‘Please, dad!’, ‘Can we go!’, ‘Mom says we can.’ ‘You promised we could go.’ chanted out in the tension between you both. And eventually Adler let out a deep sigh, shoulders heaving as he did. 

“Alright.” He agreed. That defeated tone returned but it was quickly gone as the children cheered happily, clinging onto him now. 

You watched them, a sudden emotion fluttering your heart at the sight. Of Adler’s small smile, though strained, it was genuine. Of the children… your children. Their happiness you felt as your own. The early morning forgotten, the wounds, the memories, the hallucinations, the night terrors. The ringing inside your own head. Your suffering, your pain, your detachment from the world. 

It was all worth it for this. 

You were pulled from your thoughts as the oldest grabbed your hand again. Clasping the smaller hand back, you walked to Adler whose attention went back to you. He let out a huff, an annoyed sound. But he leaned down, pressing a small kiss to your forehead. A sudden softness on his hardened features. The smell of something burning, rising smoke in the kitchen made Adler quickly duck to the stovetop towards the simmering pan. You were led by your hand again to the dining room, that was connected right to the kitchen. You sat down, watching the child run off to the living room to join the youngest sitting on the sofa. Your gaze shifted. To the television. A sudden feeling as you focused on the screen. White noise, your sight wavering. 

Something clunked down next to your arm and you blinked up at Adler leaning against the tabletop. A fresh cup of tea next to you, a coffee of his own in his hand — a dark bitter brew. No sugar, no cream. 

You smiled your thanks, eyes back to the children. But Adler’s eyes were on you. 

“Saturday cartoons.” Your head turned to him right as he took a sip from his steaming mug. “They wanted to watch them. I can turn it off and cover the T.V. if it’s bothering you again.” 

Your eyes fluttered at that, giving a quick look back to the living room then back to him. “No, it’s ok. Let them enjoy it. I'll live.”

But he was unconvinced. Lines on his face, more prominent. Those ending words of yours made his frown deepened.

“I’m fine.” 

But you didn’t know if you were trying to reassure him or yourself.

He shook his head at you. “No, you aren’t, Bell. You’re not fine.”

Something inside ached. For him, for you. 

But before more could be said, Adler left into the kitchen. His back to you. Alone now, you sat there wordlessly. Taking slow sips of your tea. It helped you think. Its warmth spread throughout your body, reinvigorating you with a comforting feeling. Your wary eyes looked around as you finished the rest of your tea. Training was still an instinct as you took mental notes of the windows and doors, places to hide, places to bunker down, ways to escape, choke points and objects to use as defense. You wondered if Adler did the same.

But you were not alone for long, not lost in your own head. Soon Adler served breakfast, a simple meal of eggs, bacon and toast. He seated the children, though they protested. Wanting to eat in the living room so they could watch their cartoons. Only to be upset when Adler shook his head no. He served you a plate, your eggs made the way you liked; an additional bowl of sliced fruit on the side. Along with a cup of warmed bone broth in case you couldn’t stomach the solid food. The kids were quiet as they ate, heads turned to the television across the way. Like them, you and Adler ate quietly as well. Both lost in your own thoughts. 

You ate as much as you could handle, taking a few bites here and there of your food. But mostly you nibbled on your toast. It helped your nausea, abating the queasiness you felt. When the children were done eating, they gathered their dishes, rushing to put them in the kitchen sink. Before racing into the living room and onto the sofa just as a new cartoon show began. You pushed your plate away towards Adler. He grimaced at it, at the food you barely touched. Yet wordlessly took your plate, adding your breakfast to his own to finish. You sat there quietly, forcing yourself to drink the broth. It was enough of an effort to ease Adler’s disgruntlement. 

But mostly, your attention was to the children. Your children; yours and Adler’s. Who had eyes just like the man sat next to you, reading a newspaper. A deep dark blue. Their faces, a blur in your withered memories. Their names you didn’t remember. But that pull, that motherly instinct in the back of your head was all that you needed to know. There was a time you think, some time ago where such a life. Such a domestic thing was not meant for you. Surrounded by death and secrecy, a pact of self-sacrifice. Of yourself and others. By your own hand, the world’s strings pulled taunt like nooses. Such a life was never for you. But you wondered if you had wanted such a life. Had you yearned for it still? Or did you accept it, for a cause. Or had you never wanted it in the first place? A family. You tried to recall but no answer came to you. As Adler grabbed both of your dishes, taking them to the kitchen to start cleaning up. You walked to the living room. Hiding in the shadow of the archway as you watched your children. The oldest sat on the sofa while the youngest was on the rug in front of the television. Playing with a toy as they watched, the same one as one of the characters of the show. 

You avoided looking too long at the screen, an old habit you’re struggling to fight off especially now. Whispering bells in your head again, tolling in a soft breeze. You found yourself moving on your own accord. Walking into the living room, taking a seat on the sofa. You were at the far end of it, tucked away in the corner. Distance put between your oldest and yourself. Observing closer, wanting to be closer despite yourself. But still cautious. Your vicinity wasn’t as ignored as you hoped, as your oldest moved closer to you. And your youngest began to show you their toys, the ones from the cartoon they’re watching. Your youngest chatted on, giving you all the details of the show and the characters. Pointing them out on the screen. Your oldest at your side, listening along, and adding more details. And you listened intently, engaged, intrigued. Your heart ached.

A feeling at the back of your neck and goosebumps rise on your arms. You grew stiff, turning around to catch Adler watching you from afar, leaning in the archway. Closely. Too closely. As if you were dangerous, a muzzled mutt. But you were, weren’t you? So volatile, so impulsive. Even you couldn’t control yourself. It was only a matter of time before you lashed out again. A commercial break that caught your attention as your oldest wanted you to look at a toy product – some sort of puzzle cube with multicolored squares on each side. But when you turned back to the archway, Adler was gone. You tried not to be on edge, that wrong feeling returning once more. 

Something was draped over you, something soft in your lap. A throw blanket. You run your fingers through the soft wool as Adler interjected himself between you and your oldest. Forced apart from your side, they expressed their complaint, but eventually acquiesced as he made room for them to lay against him. The other arm was thrown around you, pulling you close to his side. You inhaled his scent, conflicting feelings subsided and you went lax against him. The rest of the morning was spent like this, all of you in the living room. Your face pressed into his shoulder when looking at the television grew too much for you to bear. Focusing instead on the sounds of his breathing, of the smell of him. All of him against you. Until it was just you and him in the living room. 

Eventually, the kids had run off somewhere when Adler changed the channel and flicked on the news. But soon they grew impatient as the afternoon came. Asking when you all were leaving for a picnic. Adler brushed them off, using your dozing off as an excuse to delay and obfuscate. But when you stirred, looking up at him from his chest. You gave Adler a pointed look of your own. It was enough to get him on his feet, knees audibly creaking. And you followed suit. The kids rushed to their rooms, getting dressed to go. You went to get ready too, into something casual and light. A sundress you decided on, your favorite one you think. A pretty long cotton. Didn’t Adler get this for you? You pulled it over your body, smoothing the wrinkles out in the fabric, and  stood in front of the bathroom mirror. A stranger stared back at you. Sickly looking. Hollow-eyed with a haunted look, hair frizzy and brittle. Life drained from your face; wan and ghastly.

Shell-shocked.  

Feelings of repugnance. Of sadness and of disbelief. 

Was that truly who you were? That person who was staring straight back at you, was you?

Warmth at your back as a body stood behind you, into your back. Fingers went to your shoulder, brushing against your collarbone and pulled a loose strap of your dress up. Your eyes lifted upward to meet Adler’s in the mirror. Watched him bend down, mouth going to your neck. You bared it out to him, instinctively turning your head to the side. Marred lips traced up along your jugular vein — slowly and steadily. Sharp blue eyes kept your gaze in the reflection as he did. A small act, yet you were already worked up. Breathing hard, heart beating in your chest. A death grip on either side of the porcelain sink. Adler stopped behind your jaw, right on the thrumming pulse there.

“Ready?” He asked, voice husky. Lips still on your neck.

You nodded, breathless and speechless. He took a step back from you, giving you a nod. Your eyes were still on his in the mirror.

“C’mon.” 

You ran your tongue across your lips deliberately as Adler watched. Turned fully around to face him. Taking in the sight of the man in front of you. Light sandy brown hair brushed down and groomed to the side. Always stylish, always well-coordinated. Even in leisure clothing. You followed him out of the bedroom. A cardigan sweater in your arms. The kids were waiting by the front door. Your oldest was holding folded quilts and a straw picnic basket, and the youngest was with an armful of toys. You tried to help carry supplies, plastic wrapped food, drinks, anything you all needed. But Adler was quick to stop you. You both agreed to let you at least hold the picnic basket. While your oldest helped Adler with packing the cooler. 

You shielded your eyes from the sun outside, a burst of white light that blinded you as you stepped out of the house. The day was warm and mellow with a cool breeze like a soft sigh. It made your sundress flutter, a relief against your heated skin. You stared out at a suburban neighborhood full of large family homes, green lawns, and white picket fences – the all American Dream. It was almost nauseous, the manufactured appearance. People were out and about: walking dogs, mowing their lawns, sitting on their porches talking to each other as their kids played outside. You kept your eyes downcast, not wanting to garner any attention or be greeted by overly friendly neighbors. But you could feel their unsubtle eyes on you. 

In the driveway sat a vintage muscle car. Adler’s most prized possession, besides yourself. You headed to the sedan parked further down the driveway where your youngest child waited next to it, talking to a neighborhood kid riding their bike. Boasted about the picnic you were going to have. It wasn't long until your oldest appeared then Adler afterwards. A cooler in one hand, car keys and his iconic shades in the other; a portable radio tucked underneath one of his arms. It seemed Adler had the same idea as you, kept his gaze away and not making any eye contact with the neighbors. 

You sat in the passenger seat while the kids and him packed some stuff in the trunk. So quickly that it wasn’t surprising that an efficient man like Adler would teach your children to be as well. Before long, you were all on the road. Assured beforehand that the drive wasn’t too long. You stared out the window to the blurring shapes of the surroundings passing by. Music in your ear, filled the silence inside the car. A song that Adler particularly liked started and he turned the volume dial up. Gary Wright’s “Really Wanna Know You” played louder from the car speaker. He rested a hand on your knee, rubbing it soothingly. The other wrapped around the steering wheel. You took a peek at him from the passenger seat. The interior of the car reflected on his sunglasses. Noticed him mouthing the lyrics.

Adler pulled the car into a municipal park. Surprisingly vast and full of greenery — trees, shrubs, fields of long grass and plants. Picnic tables underneath the shades of towering pines and oaks. Benches were set along the sidewalks. Hiking trails that lead further in the park grounds. A playground was at the forefront of it, surrounded by a pit of play sand. Your children were restive, overly excited just by the sight of it. But were made to stay and help unload the car before they could go run off and play. With a nod from Adler, like missiles, they beelined straight to the playground. Adler carried the cooler, radio, and disposable dishes. You, on the other hand, had just the picnic basket in the crook of your elbow and the quilts. You followed Adler towards a picnic table across the way, in the shade of an overarching American basswood – a lush crown of heart-shaped leaves swayed with the subtle breeze. It was more private, situated just on the edge of the treeline yet it was still near eyesight of the playground. 

But you and your family weren’t the only ones there enjoying the nice weekend. People were there walking the trails. Other parents sat on the benches near the playground, other families on other benches. Kids in Various age ranges were also on the playground; running and tumbling in the grass. And your children made friends instantly. You kept a watchful eye on them, on others in your peripheral. Aware of the strangers, of any possible threat or hazard. All while Adler fiddled with his radio – pitches of high and low frequency static emitting with his tinkering. Until he grew annoyed, slamming a fist on top of it until it juddered with music. You scoffed at him, eyes still focused on your children on the playground, playing tag with other kids. 

“Ok?” Adler settled down next to you with a long, weary sigh.

You nodded at him, pulling your cardigan sweater over yourself and leaned closer. Knees touching, his body heat transferring into you. The radio was a nice thrum in the background as you enjoyed the sight and smell of the surrounding nature. It was a salve to your broken mind, a tortured heart. You both stared straight ahead towards the playground. 

“Are you mad?”  

Your question was softened, spoken as you exhaled an uneven breath. 

He was quiet for a moment.

“No.” Adler rubbed the underside of his jaw where the bruise blossomed. “I’m not mad, Bell.” 

You felt him relax next to you, shoulders dropping as he leaned his weight into you. There was nothing more to say. Nothing more for him or you to add. With that, a silence befell between you both, in each other’s company. Guilt and shame came and went, soon replaced by a stifling numbness. You focused externally instead. Adler next you, the soft breeze against your face. The tumbling of the canopy above you. Another one of Adler’s favorites playing from the crackly radio on the picnic table. The laughter of children in the park; yours amongst them. All of it; the pace of the world around you.

But such tranquility was only temporary as your children ran towards the picnic table. Out of breath and sweating, gulping down cold bottles of cola from the cooler. Before running off again like energetic puppies. It was a pattern. Going to play then coming back to get refreshments before returning to the playground again. By the third time, you expected them to be too tired to play anymore. But you underestimated their energy. The youngest tugged at your arm while the oldest did the same to Adler, wanting both of you to get up and join them. Adler was the first to give in, luckily for you. Letting the kids drag him up and away from the picnic table; his sunglasses handed to you for safekeeping. Though by the look Adler gave you as he was taken away, it was deliberate. Letting you have the time to rest and relax, saving you from their clutches. Although your kids definitely tried.

So you sat back and resumed your relaxation. Watched Adler play with the children, chasing them around as they screamed and laughed. A warm feeling spread throughout your body, a feeling you didn’t want to think too much about. One that was too bittersweet for you. Then a strange thought, a bewildering realization as you started to ponder more on it. Of your childhood. One that you didn’t remember, couldn’t remember. Even if you tried. It was a time lost to you. A blank space in the gray matter of your brain. To remember was to stare in murky water. At a muddled reflection. You wondered if you were the same as a young girl. A wild child without a care in the world. That drove your parents crazy. Or if you were a quiet child. Shy and sweet – your parent’s pride and joy.

Did you have siblings? Cousins and grandparents? Were they alive? Dead or excommunicated? Were you excommunicated? Did you even have a family? 

That query made you queasy, made you startled. 

What did you remember? 

Not very much. Always forgetful, always unstable. Always lost in your own head. Gathering the pieces of your shattered mind until your fingers bled. Putting them together to make a mosaic. A tattered paper collage that made a semblance of a begotten past. All you really knew was the here and now. All you knew was Adler and the bits and pieces of your long history together. Camaraderie, kinship; Enduring war together. Bled together. Fought together. Together , always together. Then a relationship beyond warfare. Beyond bloodshed and despair. A soul, once long lost and far forgotten. He was your world, your everything. The reason you were here breathing still. Still living, and still a part of a world that was so cruel and unforgiving. Despite all your reservations. 

Did Adler feel the same towards you? Were you his purpose now? His everything? Like he was to you? Did both of your children occupy the same space in his heart as you think it did yours? 

A man like him was not easily readable; reticent as he was. But his actions spoke volumes. From the picnic table underneath the span of the basswood, where you watched your family, there you felt it. An understanding between the uncertainty of past and the certainty of the present. Memories like sand between your fingers. No matter your identity crisis, memory issues or brain trauma, Adler was there. Now and always. Like he had been throughout your deployment together, during your clandestine operations. You were his shadow. His protégé. Two sides of the same coin. Eyes that always found each other in a battlefield. Always accounted for each other afterwards. Shared rations, shared canteens. The stench of cigarettes as you smoked side-by-side. A mutual respect. A symbiotic bond. 

It was always ever you two — Bell and Adler. Adler and Bell.

Always had been.

Even now as he and your children walked back to the picnic table as the afternoon sun came and went; giving way to the early hours of the evening. As the sky exploded in watercolors of yellow, orange and pink. You stood up, smiling. It was a small upturn of your mouth. A strange, unpracticed facial motion. But with such a sight as the man you held dear and both of your beautiful children together, you couldn’t help but want to smile. And snap out of your torment and conflicts. Even if it was only temporary, just for now. You approached Adler, the children at either side of you both. Hair out of place. His dark polo was drenched at the collar and underarms, khaki jeans stained from wet grass. And you couldn’t help the fleeting feeling of wanting to taste the salt of his skin. You shared a look with him, unspoken communication between you both. A wordless exchange just like on a battlefield.

You ushered all three of them to the picnic table. All exhausted, breathless, and sweaty. And unsurprisingly starving. You pulled all the plastic wrapped food from the cooler and the bags on the table. Setting up the family picnic, a simple one. But one nonetheless. Everyone was practically salivating as they watched you set it up. A platter of sandwiches, chips, potato salad, pasta salad, sliced seasonal fruit, deviled eggs, and lemonade. Cola and water in the cooler. And with your go ahead, all three immediately dug in; your children had to be corrected more than once from their table manners. Even you served yourself a plate of food. In the corner of your eye, the hint of a smile on Adler’s marred lips. Sparse for him just as it was for you. By the time you finished eating, so had everyone else. Even the peach cobbler, Adler’s favorite, remained untouched. A treat for later you imagined. 

Reinvigorated and re-energized by their meal, you and Adler watched in surprise as your children went to go play again. Most of the families there had left beforehand, but there were a few still there; the remaining children on the playground too.

Adler let out a sigh next to you, arms across his wide chest. “I’m getting too old for this.”

You leaned towards him, staring up from where you lay against his shoulder, and laughed. In the setting sun, he was a god to you. Hardened face dipped in half-shadow. The searing hue of the sunset highlighted the other side; scars, skin, and all. Made his eyes that much brighter, his hair like aureate silk. But at this angle, you also could see the years on him. Of his time on the field that whittled him down: a battle-hardened veteran, a calculated agent. A red-blooded American patriot through and through. Wrinkles and lines on the planes of his face, crow’s feet in the corner of his eyes. A slight grizzling in his golden mane as you brushed your fingers through it.

Still good looking as ever, still in shape.

Aged like a fine wine. 

“You’re practically dust, old man.”

A hearty chuckle rumbled through you, deep from within Adler’s chest. 

“Don’t get me started on you, kid .”

An old nickname that made you stare up at him and playfully glare at the side of his face. Your nose crinkled and face grimaced before huffing  and nestled back against him.

As the sun started to disappear in the horizon, in the shadow of dusk, you and Adler began to pack everything away and clean up. You called for your children, rounded them up while Adler put things in the car. Not even a few feet down the road, and the youngest and oldest were already asleep in the backseat. The ride home was pleasant, a companionable silence between you both, listening to the lowered radio. Cruising to the blues. Sunglasses perched on Adler’s face despite the dark. You found yourself starting to doze off, your head leaned against your arm on the car door. Until a hand on your shoulder shook you. You jumped a bit, blinked rapidly at the blurry face in front of you. 

“Bell, c’mon.” 

Rubbing at your eyes, you stretched a bit before getting out of the passenger seat. The youngest, still asleep, was slung over Adler’s shoulder while the oldest groggily slid out of the backseat. Tasked with putting away the food and drinks while Adler put your kids to bed, you grabbed the rest of the food and the cooler, leaving the rest of the stuff in the car to be put away tomorrow. The day had come and gone. Faster than you anticipated. The entirety of it weighed down on you. The strain of it held in your shoulders, in your neck. You opted to take a much needed shower. Hot water pelted against your body, washing yourself of the stress and weariness and down into the drain. 

The duration of your shower was longer than you thought. Making even Adler worried as he knocked on the bathroom door to make sure you were still breathing. By the time you got out, the entire bathroom was filled with steam. The humidity made you lightheaded. You expected Adler to already be in bed but you were surprised to find your bedroom empty and the bed untouched. You padded across the carpet, towel wrapped around your body towards your dresser. The curtains blew open with a sudden breeze, making you shiver. The balcony door was slightly ajar. Let in the night air inside and the smell of pungent smoke. You dressed yourself swiftly into just another nightgown and walked towards the balcony. There, leaning against the wood guardrail, was an outline of a tall, imposing figure. The flicker of a small ember where a lit cigarette rested between thick fingers. 

“Thought you wanted to quit?”

You joined the shadow on the balcony. Arms around yourself as you looked up at a dark night, the moon eclipsed by passing clouds. The flickering light of the cigarette reflected in his sepia lenses.

“Hm… I said that?”

You rubbed at your bare arms as a cold wind blew against your skin. Hair still damp, your nightgown was helpless against the chill. And you moved closer, seeking his body heat. “Something of the sort.”

Adler inhaled, the cigarette burning brighter with his deep intake. Then exhaled. 

“Can’t shake off old habits.”

You hummed at him, plucking the cigarette from his fingers just before he could take another hit of it. Adler turned to you, curious and interested. Watched you take a long drag. Saw your own reflection in his sunglass lens from the bedroom light behind you. Instantly, the addictive taste of nicotine filled your mouth, a rush of dopamine straight to the brain. You let out a soft sigh, smoke curling out of your lips. As you savored the taste of it on your tongue.

With an effortless motion, Adler retrieved the cigarette that was taken from him. And puffed at the end of it. “Thought I weaned you off of cigarettes.”

“You did. Doesn’t mean the cravings ever stop.”

He passed you the cigarette again. “Hm, guess so.”

You both stayed like that. The comfortable silence of the night. Smoking in each other’s company. Reminded you of the times in Vietnam after a long, hard day. Adler let you finish the rest of the cigarette, disappearing into the bedroom, wanting to take a shower to wash the day off too. Adler didn’t leave you much, having smoked most of the cigarette. But you weren’t picky, grateful for his scraps like a starved dog. When it was finished, you snubbed the rest of it against the railing. Uncaring for the stain of soot and ash on the white paint. Then discarded it in an ashtray on a coastal glass side table in the far corner. Where your potted plant sat on top next to it. Leaves yellowed and withering, but saved. But not by your nurturing care that was for certain. You realized that your revitalized plant had just been watered, by Adler no doubt. You went inside, locking the balcony door and nestled yourself into the bed covers. But you couldn’t fall asleep. Something in your chest prevented you, like the beat of your heart was too much for you to bear. Your mind was disquiet, running rampant. The older man was the centerfold of it all.

Adler didn’t take as long of a shower as you had. He walked out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist. Hair darkened from his shower and brushed back. His upper body was on full display in the glow of the table lamp, stray water droplets rolling down the expanse of his chest, down to his abdomen. Adler disappeared into the walk-in closet. Coming out a minute later, dressed in loose fitting pajama pants and a plain T-shirt. 

He flicked the lamp off, plunging the bedroom into sudden darkness. You felt the mattress dip as he got under the duvet and settled on his side of the bed. 

Adler wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer. You burrowed your face into his chest. Head tucked underneath his chin. The smell of his body wash and the fresh scent of detergent from his shirt filled your nose. Your body relaxed against him. Feeling him do the same against you. Your lips pressed to his cheek, a goodnight kiss he thought. Until your lips strayed to the bruise on his jaw then dipped down to his neck. Where you found his pulse, running your tongue against it slowly. Feeling it began to quicken underneath. His body tensed against yours. Arms tightened around you, fingers digging into your waist. 

“Go to sleep, Bell.”

A low, sleep-ridden voice said above you. It was a warning. A chastisement. A command he expected you to follow. But you were in no mood to listen, let alone close your eyes and go to sleep. You swallowed, moving away from Adler’s neck. Then back up to his face and ghosted your lips over Adler’s. He stirred, body still tensed, but laid unmoving. 

“ Bell .”

Another warning. Spoken like a growl right before the bite. But you were determined, undeterred.

Your hand went to his face, thumbing softly at his scars. “Adler.” 

He leaned into your touch. Stubbled and scarred cheek against the plush of your hand.

“ Please .” 

You didn’t need to ask twice. 

He was hesitant at first, worried. Fingers pressed into your skin, keeping a gap between you two. Warm breath fanned against your face. But you guided his head down to yours, brushing your lips together with his. It was a chaste kiss. Lips against each other for a fleeting moment before separating again. Where tongues just barely brushed, barely stroked into each other's mouth. Before you both braved another then another.  Until such restraint was forgotten in light of unbridled passion. A crash of mouths, a hungriness between you both. Blood rushed throughout your bodies. Hearts racing, heat rising. The hint of smoke on his tongue. 

Just as quickly, you both pulled away from each other. Panting, out of breath. Lips swollen. And all you and Adler could do was stare at each other. Wide-eyed and mouths agape. But the standstill didn’t last long. Adler was the first to close the gap again. Arms around your waist pulled you flush against him, your fingers in his hair. Lips locked to yours in a searing kiss. Siphoning the air from your lungs. You gasped for breath as Adler angled his head, pulling you into a deeper kiss. All tongue and teeth. His desperation matching your own.

You moved forward, Adler chasing after your lips when you pulled away. And quickly straddled him. His fingers dug into your hips, keeping you still. Dilated eyes met dilated eyes as you stared down at the older man from above. He was a mess underneath you already: hair disheveled, skin flushed, the rapid rise and fall of his chest under your palms. Marred lips bruised from the aggressiveness of you both. You couldn’t help but admire the beautiful sight below you. To have such a man like Adler at your mercy. Looking up at you so eagerly. So hungry for more. 

But  in your admiration you let your guard down. And Adler had full intention to take advantage of that. He shifted, quicker than you anticipated, and before you knew it you were on your back. Him over you, caging you against the mattress with his frame. A slight upturn of his lips at your surprised gasp before you were swallowed into another kiss – softer and slower this time. But just as devouring. You squirmed against his hold. Felt him shift again, a knee hooking underneath your leg and pushing it aside as he leaned forward, body pressed down onto you. 

Adler left your mouth, lips across your jaw before dipping down. Lips to the pulse underneath your jaw like you had done to him. His teeth tracing it as it throbbed against his tongue before he bit down – leaving the indentation of teeth in his wake. The morning came back to you, standing in front of the mirror. Watching Adler against your throat. You wished you could see him now like you did then, as he kissed down the column of your neck, tongue trailing all along your jugular. Nipping at your collarbone towards your chest. Nipples poking through the material of your nightgown. 

Hands at your hips that held you still hiked your nightgown up, bunching it at your abdomen before it is pulled over your head and tossed on the floor. Bared to him now. He admired you for a long moment, piercing gaze taking your nakedness in, all along your goosebumped skin. He pulled his shirt over his head. Then Adler pressed his lips between your breasts, ever slow and ever steady. Ignoring your whimpers, your impatience. Heeded his own need to savor you. To evince your worth. His mouth left a scorching path down your abdomen. All across the scars and marks that littered your body, new and old. To the recent bruises, scratches and cuts. On the florets of old gunshot wounds on your torso and midriff that still felt freshly healed and much too tender against Adler’s scarred lips and light stubble.

His head descended down, down, down . Your fingers threaded through his mane of hair, feeling his warm breath above your hips. Calloused hands against your thighs, the one he hooked with his leg was thrown over his shoulder. His body settled between your legs. Already so wet. His mouth kissed up the one over his shoulder. From your thigh all the way up to your ankle. Then back down in a trail of wet kisses. You watched, heavy-lidded, your eyes meeting Adler’s. As he buried his face between your spread legs. You choked a gasp, tugging at his hair. Your thighs wrapped around his head, hips automatically  bucked against his face. As Adler eased you open with his tongue slowly. Kissing, sucking, licking, lapping. Your hips lifted up from the bed, legs taunt, but he held you down. Using his arms wrapped around your waist to stop your squirming and the width of shoulders to pry your legs open even wider. 

Adler was merciless with his tongue. Swirling around the most sensitive part of you. Sending jolts of electricity shooting up your spine, right up to your foggy brain. Added onto the heated pressure that was building in your core. You were already making a mess, dripping down your thighs onto the sheets. Your breathing only grew more uneven, more quicker. Chokes and moans fell from your lips, encouraging the man between your legs. Adler leaned on his side, moving an arm from underneath your waist only to go back and resume to his assail on you. He pressed a thick digit into you slowly, between the lapping of his tongue. Until he was up to the knuckle. Though you moaned at the feeling, you wished he filled you with something else. Adler pumped the finger into you, curling it against your tight, slick walls. Then, after a few moments, added a second. His fingers were calloused but clever. It didn’t take long before you were keening off the bed. Mouth agape, hands clenched around the sheets, hearing the sounds Adler was making between your legs. You were already close, right at the summit. But it wasn’t surprising, adroit and ambidextrous as he was. 

Your fingers shot to his hair again, pulling as the pressure in your core grew more and more. Your thighs squeezed against his head, legs shaking, hips rolling against the movements of his tongue and pumping of his fingers into you. But Adler didn’t relent. He was never a man who could. You were close. So, so, so close. Right on the edge, fire coaxed underneath your skin. Heart bursting, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. Focused solely on the pleasure Adler was giving you. You begged and pleaded, sighed his name in broken breaths. Russell, Russell, Russell. Until your breathing stuttered, breathless as you began to quiver. Like the snap of string, the unspooling of thread, your orgasm crashed over you. Hard and unexpected. Pulled you down underneath the depths, slamming you against the ocean floor. 

Mouth opened in a silent cry, body rose, hips rolling, fluttering around Adler’s fingers, tears rolling down your cheeks as Adler talked you through it. All the emotions, all your pain and suffering, all your fears and insensibility surged forward. A hurricane of mixed, conflicted feelings. Then all at once, it was gone. And you felt… you felt. You didn’t feel much of anything. You didn’t know what to feel. At peace? Unburdened? In limbo? It wasn’t numbness or detachment. But something you couldn’t quite name nor explain. In its wake, as you came down from your orgasm, all you could do was stare up at the ceiling, trying to catch your breath. Tears were still falling from your eyes from an unknown cause. Hands intertwined with yours, grounded you as you laid there motionless. 

Carefully, Adler moved away from between your legs, kissing lazily against your salty skin. Up to your collarbone and neck, then a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. He laid beside you, not holding you, but there just so you could feel the tangibility of him. Of the warmth of him next to you. Skin against skin, heart beating in the ribcage next to yours. 

“Bell.”

Your name was whispered in the crook of your neck. Your hands intertwined with his once more. You blinked, shaking through the fog in your mind. Turned your head, eyes meeting Adler’s as he stared at you worriedly. His eyes still dilated, his face drenched with your wet slick. Watched him as he licked his lips. You leaned forward, kissing Adler again. Tasting yourself on his lips. His hand cupped your jaw, deepening the kiss. He pulled away from you, kissing away the tear streaks on your face. Your arms wrapped around his neck, tugging him closer until he hovered over you. Adler was tense again, searching your face.

But you wasted no time, fingers following along his happy trail, tugging at the waistline of his pajama pants. Adler was quick to get the message. Still hesitated, still worried that it was too much for you. Convinced only by your gentle kiss and your pleading eyes. He helped you tug away his clothing, relieving the tightness there. He was rock hard; heavy, ruddy, and curved. You couldn’t help but ogle, licking your lips. Wanted to run your tongue on the underside of it, along a thick vein. Reciprocating, giving him the same pleasure he gave you. But you were both too eager. Your arms were still thrown over his neck, keeping him still as Adler settled between your legs again. Wished he would hurry up already. But the man had other plans. Osculated along the inside of your thigh again, all the way up to your ankle like before. 

“Adler.” Your voice was hoarse, growing frustrated at his delay. 

He ignored you however, still taking his sweet time. Sucking on the skin until he left welts and marks all over. Then did the same to your other thigh. Only stopped when he was satisfied. You pulled him closer, feeling him finally prod against you. Adler hissed low and you winced as he entered you. Still oversensitive, still overwhelmed. Still unused to the size of him. He pressed himself into you leisurely — inch by inch. Much too tight to take him in all at once, but you took as much of him as you could. 

Adler stopped, feeling you squeeze around him in a vice grip.

“Bell.” He hissed through his teeth, “I need you to relax for me.”

You heard the strain in his velvet voice, felt the tensity of him above you. You took a slow breath, trying to get your body to relax. It worked somewhat, Adler eased up. But you could feel him throb inside you. Surprised by his restraint. He searched your face. Pulled out of you carefully, then drew his muscular thighs closer for leverage and sunk his fists into the mattress on either side of your head. Your hands on his shoulders gripped tight as Adler enfolded over you. A measured thrust and you both threw your heads back. He rocked his hips slowly, grunting as you clung to him. Legs wrapped around his hips, whimpering and keening. His face in the crook of your neck. Teeth on the underside of your jaw. His pacing was relentless, persistent. Not too slow, not too fast, but steady. Unwavering, as he fucked you into the mattress. But you wanted more. You wanted his brutality, that calculated violence. The agony and misery. You wanted him to ruin you. 

He already had. 

You were in a muddled state already. Cried out his name as Adler sunk deeper into you. Having been fucked wider to take all of him now. A hum of approval low in Adler’s throat, pleased by how well you took him. Like you were made for him. And only for him. Falling on his forearms, his body pressed on top of you. Flattened by his weight, caged by him. Large, calloused hand over your mouth, to muffle the noises you made; cries, whines and moans. His other ventured down, between your legs, where you were both connected. Felt him cup you, deft fingers rubbed against you. You tugged at his hair, sweat sheening on you both. Adler growled in your ear as you constricted around him again, writhing underneath him. Overstimulated. Your eyes closed shut. It was too much, it was all too much. 

Adler panted above you, jaw clenched. Your name spat through clenched teeth. But you were too lost in the feeling of him pistoning in and out of you, your toes curling, breathing unstable. Bed frame wobbling under you both. Adler removed the hand from your mouth, shot out to the headboard. His other hand left from between your legs, grabbing your jaw. Pulled it forward to face him, forcing you to open your eyes and meet his own. Your mouth opened wide, wanting to cry out. But Adler shoved his fingers into your mouth. Fingers glistened from your sticky slick, curling inside your cheek. Making you taste yourself again. You wrapped your lips around his fingers, sucking them clean. The only sounds you could make now was incoherent babbling. As Russian filth was whispered in your ear. 

Close. You were both so close. 

Together, always together.

Adler pulled his fingers from your mouth, throwing your legs over his wide shoulders. Placed his hands on your hips in a bruising grip; knew it would leave prints afterwards. He was even deeper now that you thought possible. Still kept that steady pace of his. You pulled him into a messy kiss; all tongue and swollen lips. As the foundation of your orgasm grew stronger and more powerful. You broke the kiss as you felt it building higher and higher. Ready to all come crashing down. Adler could feel it too by the way 

you tightened around him. It only encouraged him. His pace grew faster, enough to make you arch up from the bed. Your nails clawed at his back. Mouth agape in a silent scream. Then it crashed over you. Harder than your first. More violent and intense. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You fluttered around Adler, gushing over both your thighs. And it wasn’t long before he followed suit. A guttural groan deep from within his chest and a hard thrust into you. Then another and another, rocking your body forward, making the headboard slam the plaster. As he spilled himself inside you. Groaning and growling, his head thrown back. Exposing the column of his throat and the bites you left there.

“Fuck. FUCK.” 

Then a few final thrusts and he collapsed on top of you. Panting, kissing along your neck. As you both came back down like falling feathers. You both laid there like that, in each other’s arms. Trying to catch your breath. Eventually, Adler rolled off of you, pulling himself out as you winced. You could feel him start to spill out of you already, mixing with your slick on your thighs. You had the mind to take your fingers and push it back inside you where it belonged, and by the way Adler watched in deep thought, he shared the same idea. But instead, the older man grabbed his discarded shirt from the floor and cleaned you up. Tossing it away when he was done. Adler pulled you close, your head to his sweaty chest as you let out a drawled out sigh. Ear to his rapid heartbeat, cheek nuzzling against his coiled chest hair. His arms wrapped around you, his legs intertwined with yours. Skin against skin, souls bared to each other. 

“Sleep, Bell.” 

His hands rubbed at your back softly. As he kissed your forehead and let out a deep sigh. Already falling asleep. Your eyes felt heavy. You were exhausted and satisfied. You were starting to ache everywhere; knew that you would feel it all in the morning. Adler fell asleep before you, soft snoring into your hair. His deep breathing lulled you. And for once, sleep came to you easily… 

And yet…

Yet…

Something wasn’t right.

Even in the embrace of sleep, just on the verge of consciousness, you could tell. Cold, uncomfortable. Unbearable even, and… unsafe. It made you stir, shifting against the confines of something that held you close. Too close. Restrictive, digging deep into your skin. Suffocated you. Drowning, you were drowning again. Being dragged down underneath dark torrents. But there was no sudden violence to save you, no inner animalistic urge to weaponize. You were pacified, a limp body lost in the depths. A corpse sinking to the endless bottom. 

You couldn’t fight. Couldn’t fight hard, couldn’t fight strong or desperately. Nothing was enough to free yourself, nothing would ever be. You were a deadweight, a stone thrown into a lake. Free falling into the deep, dark depths below. Light above you, fading away from you. Everything in you, ached for oxygen. Your lungs burned, nostrils flared – choking for air. Pressure built into your chest like wet concrete. You opened your mouth to scream, but your cries were silenced by the water, your mouth filling with it. Frantic releases of breath left an effervesced trail as you sunk. Down, down. Further and further. Buried in a watery grave, pressurized and all consuming. Death was slow. Your death was inevitable like grave soil being thrown over your coffin. There was no more fighting the throes of inevitable death. No screaming and no mercy.

Your sight blackened until all you saw was red. Red, red, red . The color of wounds, the color of bloodsport. The color of hellfire. Then you heard it. A symphony of sounds, an echo like a whale song. Cacophonous and jarring. It reverberated in your bones and repeated in your head. An evocation that you began to understand, to recognize. It called to you, spoke a name. ‘Bell, Bell, Bell’   it said, repeating over and over like a mantra. From a voice that you knew wholeheartedly, deep down in the intertwisted threads of the tapestry of soul, bones and flesh. An echo, a whisper in the nothingness. 

“Bell, we've got a job to do.”

We’ve got a job to do. 

We’ve got a job to do. 

W̸̡̾e̸̙̽’̷̮̅v̷͎͝ë̶̥́ ̸̳̈́g̸̓ͅō̸͎t̶͎͆ ̷͚͘a̵͍̔ ̴̘̈j̵̦̈́o̴̮̊b̵̥́ ̸̖́t̶̢̓o̵͔͌ ̴̢̀d̵̻̕o̵̲̎.̸̞͝

A trip down memory lane. A series of memories: the smell of napalm and gunpowder. Sweat stinging the eyes, the taste of blood and mud in the mouth. Mazes of wire and explosives. Booby traps, land mines. VC rats scurrying in escape tunnels. The flash of the muzzles. The clink of bloodstained dog tags as they were yanked off of dead soldiers. Shadows between the trees; VietCong hiding in plain sight. Gunfire, a helicopter crash. Burning remnants of it stuck in a canopy. Thrown in a firefight in a paddy field. A voice, a narrator to the palimpsest of your own narrative. A tour guide through your own head; the devil on your shoulder. Old ruins, a fork in the road. Across a river, a rope bridge. A tunnel. A burning village. Then a red door. Always one at the end. You cannot escape it.  

You walked through the door. A bright light blinded your sight. The sounds of a tropical jungle, palm leaves and elephant grass brushed against your skin. An oppressing heat. A long, white hallway that stretched on and on. Miles upon miles upon miles. Imperceivable, indeterminate. An endless iteration, a feedback loop. White walls and one way windows. Lab rooms full of medical equipment, surgical tools, projectors, and flickering television screens. 

Purgatory . 

White noise in your ears. In the distance, a bell swings. But there’s no ring.

Your surroundings started to crumble, decaying right in front of you. The walls cracked, the foundation split. The windows shattered. Falling, it was all collapsing in, from the ceiling to the floor. And all onto you. You sprinted through, running down the deteriorating hallway endlessly. A voice in your head again; another red door in front of your face. Through it again as always. And there in the middle of endless darkness was a long metal table. You knew what to do even with a broken mind; took a seat at the head of the table. Right where you knew you belonged. Faces, faces all around. Other people in the room, sitting around the table too. And a towering man with silver, slicked back hair and a thick mustache. He looked at you, talked to you in an accented voice that sounded far too familiar. Too familial . He said a name, your true name; Your real name. One you had long forgotten. You blinked at him as the man spoke, words like a distant echo. It reverberated in your head. Resurfaced memories. Of a plan. One you helped contrive.

‘Nukes. Europe. Detonation. Safety of Solovetsky.’

Solovetsky .

From the safety of Solovetsky.

Something reached for you, someone. You started to wake. Your body ached all over. Your left eye throbbed. Your sight burned – white, white. Too bright. Bright lights above you. Bleary-eyed; eyes seeing and unseeing, like a camera lens trying to find focus. Your surroundings were nothing but a blur. A warbling in waterlogged ears, a chorus of inharmonious noise. 

Sepia shades in the dark, a looming figure crept out from the shadows.  

“Bell, no more fucking around.”

You tried to sit up. But you’re restrained to a metal gurney. Forced to lay down on your back. There was relief there, seeing Adler. Affection and admiration, relief. Underneath all your confusion, all your dubiety. The fogginess in your head, the conflicting emotions that bubbled in the cauldron of your sensibility. He wasn’t alone in the dark room. But your eyes always looked to him. Only him. Pinpointed him wherever and whenever. Adler grabbed you roughly, a hard grip on a tactile vest you were wearing. Forced your upper body up from the gurney, the thick strap around your chest that held you down, cut into your ribs and stomach.

“What did Perseus say? Where is he?”

You stared at Adler. It was all you could do. Alarm sirens in your head at the way he looked down at you, acted towards you. Like you were nothing to him. There was no subtle softness on the rough features of his face. No crinkling of his crow’s feet in the corner of his eyes as he looked down at you. You weren’t in the bedroom like you expected, sunlight streaming through the curtains. Wrapped in his embrace, your children sleeping in. 

Children. 

Where are your children at?

Your gaze darted around, eyes bulging with a sudden panic. But all you saw was Adler. Your tongue was like lead, heavy and stuck to the roof of your mouth. Your jaw ached like you’ve been grinding your molars together. Despite it, you tried to speak. Throat dry and scratchy. 

Where are your children? Are they safe? Where are you? 

Who are you, really?

Disoriented, Adler assured you. You were just disorientated. Help is what you needed. But it wasn’t just your own, Adler needed it as well. An exchange, you both needed to help each other. 

Bullshit. It was all bullshit. 

Adler wasn’t pleased with you. 

“‘Bullshit’ is what your whole life will amount to if you don’t come clean. Tell us where Perseus is!”

Adler was unrecognizable in that moment, not the man you remembered. One you held dear to your heart. This wasn’t him, was it? This wasn’t the Adler you knew and cherished. He wouldn't subject you to this. Adler would never do this. Wouldn’t he? This man wore his face, spoke his words. But he wasn’t Adler. You blinked up at him, this wasn’t real. He wasn’t real. You tested the restraints, feeling how they cut into the circulation of your wrists and ankles. And his grip on you only tightened, fist flexed around the rough textile of your tactile vest. Your head throbbed. You felt your chest tighten with the constricting compression of pain. Emotional turmoil churned inside you. This fake Adler, this impersonator was the cause of your pain, of your suffering. The puppeteer behind the scenes. A conjuring of your worst fears. 

What did this man do to you? 

“We gave you a second chance when you were shit out of luck. Now we just want some assistance in return.”

He dropped you with a harsh push, and you fell back onto the gurney. A second chance. Tit for tat; quid pro quo. Someone held up a blue folder; a dossier soiled with a dried bloody handprint. 

Then you remembered. Remembered it all. 

A quick succession of memory; Betrayed. Bleeding out in the back of your hummer on an airfield. Blood stained dossier in your lap. Melting metal and burning rubber – a gas leak. The wreckage of a plane on fire in the far distance. Dying, you were dying. Left for dead. But these people, this man with the face of Adler. They’re perfidious. Manipulating you, you were nothing but entertainment to them. Like picking a scab and watching it bleed over and over again. 

Lying. He’s lying. He put all that shit in your head. 

“The CIA reinvented you, Bell.”

Reinvented you; built you back up. Fragments of your consciousness, stained-glass windows. Shards of you too sharp to fully put back together. You were just a golden joinery of flesh and bone. Nothing but haphazardly put-together. A shell of a person. A conflict of your own self. Memories that weren’t your own stuffed in your damaged brain. Menticide, MK-Ultra. A fabrication, a falsification. Of identity, of background, of bonds. They used you and your expertise. Used you for their own bidding. Adler used you, pretended your ties together.

But this was all a trick. It was all in your head, a torment specified for you. Your children were real, they were safe back home. And this man, he wasn’t truly Adler; Adler would never do such a thing to you. You've been through so much together, done so much together. 

Together, always together. 

It was a macabre joke, all a sadistic game. They were toying with you.

These people were sick. Sick in the head, more than you.

“Are your hands clean, Bell?”

Were they clean? Cleansed of wrongdoings like Adler said? Weren’t you a sinner, just like them? 

Purgatory. 

This was purgatory. Consequences, punishment. What you deserved for sins that stained your soul. For a past, a personhood you cannot remember. A false identity given and granted by them, for you. A trick, a false reassurance. Integration, interrogation. Interrogated? You were interrogated? No, it was a confessional. An admission. One you fought, one you refused. You weren’t a sinner like them. Like they claimed you were. Purgatory. 

This purgatory was all in your head. A delusion. 

Fuck this. Fuck them. 

“I don’t think so. You’re still holding back on us, and we are going it out of you.”

Again, ‘Adler’ seized hold of you. Hand curled into a fist around your tactical vest. With the other the older man grabbed your jaw, rough fingers digging into your skin. He forced your head to the side. Face-to-face with him now. 

He leaned down closer.

“We have a job to do.” 

Your brain went blank, something within you triggered. Like a switch. Enchanted, hypnotized, mesmerized. Stuck in a trance. You instantly relaxed. Eyes to those behind his shades. Waited for his direction, for his command. A dog at his heel. 

He released you slowly, stepping back from you.

“The trigger phrase kept you in line but it didn’t give us everything we needed. Your innermost secrets were always locked behind a door.”

The red door. Always an obstacle in your way. A gateway through the labyrinthine corridors of a shattered psyche, the ruins of broken mind. For which all paths converged and led back to him. Back to Adler. Like a northern star; a flame in the dark. He was always the one to reel you in, to ground you. A planet caught in his gravity.  But this trick, this manipulation tactic was not untrue. This brutal man that stood over you was not a figment of your imagination, no matter how much you blinked.  Nor was he a trickster or an impersonator. This man was Adler. And what you both had… your complicated and complex relationship. It was never real. None of it was. Your past together, even your future together. Your children… none of it was real. Pain deep in your chest, coiling around your heart like thorn vines. The mother inside wailed and sobbed, grieving for what you never had in the first place.

You watched him as he talked on. Words he was saying to you, seeped into your head. You probably hate them right now, he said. Hate, you should hate. It was the only understanding you needed; nothing of the stakes, of a threat of nuclear fallout, of the death of millions off the face of the earth. A realization. One that you couldn’t fully heal from. A pain that broke your rhythm. A flow of agonizing hurt washed over you, a remembrance of a ghostly past and a once tangible future. This was purgatory. Not one manifested by your woes and fears, or created by your own head or designed for you. It was a byproduct, a fact of life. To live, was to suffer. To suffer, was to live.

It had all been a dream, a fantasy. Hopeful wishing in light of your suffering. The only source of strength and hope you could cling onto. You shared no life with him. No allegiance, or connection. You didn’t know him, not truly. He was not your safety, not the gravity keeping you on your feet. Your world crumbled, unfurling at the seams. Between the subtle shading and the absence of light laid the nuance of illusion. Of the lie fed to you, of the life spun for you, of the personhood falsified unto you. You should loathe him, you should fear him. You shouldn’t trust the man in front of you. You knew it all as true. 

“This is your chance to define who you really are, Bell.”

But love and hate had always tasted the same to you. 

Remember?

“Where is Perseus?” Adler asked you, expectantly. 

The voice of that tall silver-haired man in that dark room, in your ear once more. Whisperings in your head. Truth on the tip of your tongue.

From the safety of Solovetsky.

….Solovetsky.

“Solovetsky. It’s the Solovetsky Monastery.” You told him. 

Adler repeated the word.  “Solovetsky.” 

He sent whoever was there out of the room, appointed tasks in preparation for what’s to come. You watched as he untied your restraints around your wrists and legs. Undid the one around your chest. Without hesitation. 

“You made the right choice, Bell.”

Truly? Had you truly chosen correctly?

Adler clasped your hand, helped you up from the gurney. The heat of his palm seeping through your fingerless gloves. The hand on your shoulder, steadied you as you stood on wobbly legs. 

“You’re still one of us.”

One of us. 

It was bittersweet beneath it all. 

All the conflicting emotions, the pain and fear, the grieving for a life you never shared together. The memories that weren’t yours, but Adler’s. In that, you at least shared. But despite it all. You did what you always had done. Even now. You put your trust in him. Followed him dutifully. Heeded his words. It was all you knew. All you knew how to do. Whether it was implanted into you or learned over time. His ambition, his will; your purpose. A fatal flaw. Following him to the ends of the world, to hell on earth by his side. As the cards of fate were shuffled and played. 

Even now after the all-out assault on Solovetsky, the foiling of Perseus' plan. You were found and rescued from underneath all the debris: rubble, concrete and metal sheets. Rebars stuck out of the remnants of the monastery like broken bones. Voices on the other side. A figure between the dust and smoke, fires burning around you. Adler appeared in front of you, and you couldn’t help the sigh of relief at the sight of him. He extended an arm out to you there on the ground. 

“Take my hand, Bell.” He said.

And you did.

Reached out for him. Let him pull you back on your feet as you steadied yourself. Listened to his triumphant speech afterwards. Of the evil you helped stop. Without your knowledge at first, then with it afterwards. 

“This is how wars are won, Bell.”

You couldn’t help the chill that ran down your spinal cord as he spoke directly to you. Goosebumps rose. Felt like ants marching one by one, up and down your skin. It was a declaration of devotion. Not to you, never to you. But to his country. For the safekeeping and welfare of the Western world and its idealisms. You were nothing but a means to an end. A stepping stone in the cobble path. Just another pawn on the chess board sacrificed for the checkmate. The early morning broke through the clouds of smoke. The fires still burned bright against the waning dusk, even throughout the incoming dawn. Soon the leeching light of the fires was but a memory. Fleeced clouds roamed through the pastorals of a calm sky, subsiding away, and freeing the sun from its subjugation. The sun rose, blooming against an azure sky, unfurling its golden tendrils, to bare its fierce face once again. Apprehension prickled along the back of your neck, the hairs there stood at end. You couldn’t shake off the feeling and that fight or flight instinct was becoming very hard to ignore. 

Yet, you still followed right behind Adler as he led you up a hill. Towards a cliff that overlooked the Arctic sea. He was a few paces ahead but still looked back towards you to make sure you were still following. As if you would bolt in a split second when he turned his back and wasn’t looking. The smell of brine became stronger as you reached the top of the cliff. Carried on the cold winds, the exhale of wintry dread. Of death’s call. The taste of salt was a sharp bitterness on your tongue, making your mouth prune and your thirst more fierce. You watched him take a deep breath through his nose, inhaling the cool scent of the sea. Adler leaned a leg on top of a rock and peered over the edge. He lit up a cigarette, taking a drag of it, and stared out to the sea. 

You stood only a couple feet away, just observing him. Wallowed in uncertainty, in the unknown. In the aftermath of the truth revealed. The dealer’s hand had already been dealt, but you didn’t know what it read. What it entailed when it came to you. The roar of crashing waves battered against the jagged rock of the cliffside in your ears. Filled the silence between you both. But it wasn’t enough to drown the endless stream of thoughts in your headspace. 

Adler turned towards you. Cool and impassive. Wholly inscrutable to you. 

“Arctic air. Clears the head, doesn’t it.”

An ice breaker, something to cut through the tension between you both. Then came his praise, and something inside fawned at his words. A simple acknowledgement that was everything to you. 

“I just want you to know that this little thing that’s happened with you and me. It was always for the greater good.”

Adler flicked his cigarette away. Your eyes watched him waste it, as it fell down into the sea. More praise from him. You were a hero, he told you. That dreaded nickname tumbling from his lips again. Kid . More talk about being a hero. Heroism, sacrifice. Sacrifice of the self, of others. Sacrifice. You were the sacrificial lamb, another pawn on the chess board sacrificed for the checkmate. For the greater good. Why would it turn out any different? You served your purpose. You were no longer useful. 

It would always end this way, with your death at the very culmination. You were just another loose end that needed to be dealt with. 

“... it was never personal.” 

You habitually wobbled on the precipice of life and death. Between luck of the draw and the short end of the stick. Firm-footed at its edge at the very last second. Death had been elusive to you once. A mercy neither given nor received. But now, you saw the margins of error permitted in between. You barely felt the bullet as it struck through your chest. Scarlet bloomed beneath your fingertips, stained your skin like overripe raspberries. Shedding liquid dripped onto the ground in splatters. A contrast of color that was vibrant against the mellow pigmentation. There it burgeoned under the sun, roses and scarlet sage. Sarcodes and carnations. Bouquets and garlands, a gathering of plucked lifeblood. Your knees buckled as your body went slack and you collapsed to the ground. Clutching at your lower chest, you grimaced at the excruciating pain of a deep-seeded wound. The bitter taste of a sob was on your tongue. But you swallowed it down, let it simmer out as the coppery taste overpowered both the bitterness and the saltiness in your mouth. 

You could only lie there on the dirt, bleeding and exhausted. Supine in your own pool of blood, your eyes to the sky. Watched the seagulls glide in and out of your vision carried by the oceanic winds and the clouds floating above you. Blood swarmed in your mouth. Your respiration stuttered, uneven and wheezing with every breath rattling your ribcage. Dirt and gravel shifted as heavy footsteps approached you, stopping inches away from where you lay. You turned your head, letting it loll to the side. Wanting to look out to the horizon in the distance. The boots in front of your face moved. Feet planted next to your head instead, giving you a clear view of the sight over the cliffside. He was quiet as he stood next to you, looking out the horizon like you were. But you felt his eyes glance down at you every so often. Waiting for your last breath. 

There was a strange comfort there with him by your side. As a bedside presence, as company as death creeped in. Nobody wanted to die all alone. And at least a man such as Adler had the decency to stay. But underneath the solace, there was a hard truth. The realization that he only wanted to make sure that you died. That all loose ends were gone. 

You knew as well as he did that death would eventually come. He had aimed for a quick kill, a merciless end to not prolong your suffering. But your fast draw of your pistol from your side as you mirrored his action. Moved just slightly with your unholster as you stared down each other’s gun barrels. But it was enough for him to miss his mark. Only for the shot to hit your chest instead of your head where Adler initially aimed. Now you would suffer, your own doing you supposed. Self-afflicted in a last ditch effort to live. Or rather take him down with you. Together, to the depths of hell. Tit for tat; quid pro quo. 

The sound of metal clicking above you of an adjustment of a pistol. You took as much of a stable breath as you could, expecting another gunshot to come. To quicken your death, take you out of your misery like putting down a dog. All to finish what was already started. But no shot rang out, instead the pistol was holstered to his side and buckled around his thigh. You were not worth the waste of another bullet it seemed. You felt his eyes stray from the horizon, down to you. You heard him let out a deep, weary sigh. After your bloodied coughs sent blood droplets onto the ground next to his boots. Your chest heaved and you gasped out aloud for air, like you were being submerged. Head pushed underneath the frothy surface. Drowning in your own blood. Your body had accepted death, but your soul refused to rest; psychosomatic prodromes. A restlessness that couldn’t be overcome.

Fighting still, even in your death throes. 

“Sleep, Bell.” 

A whisper on the wind, a ghostly graze along your cheek of a feigned loving touch. One last command, one last instruction. 

Whether you knew it or not, unconsciously or consciously, you heeded those words. Your eyes fluttered close like butterfly wings as you started to go limp, letting go of it all. The horizon began to fade in your blurring sight. And soon after, you lost all feeling. The cold winds against your skin, the sounds of lapping waves and the taste of brine and blood  — they were nothing to you now. Clutched in the cold grip of death. Where a frostbite numbness overcame you like you were plunged in a tub of ice. Doused in freezing water. Senseless and insensible. Capitulated. Your life was beyond you now. Below, where the cliffside stretched down towards the sea. To the ebb and flow of turbulent waters.

Blue. Dark blue. 

The color of Adler’s eyes. One of his favorite genres that played on the radio. The complexion of a corpse. The quadrangle that held fifty stars on the national flag. The color of solitude so cold. The expanse of water as it swallowed you whole. Body tossed over the edge, lost to the sea. Paths intertwined now to be untangled for good.

Here, on this heroic day, you dreamed a dream. 

In your brain’s oscillations of replayed memories, a last recall of life events just before death.Of a life not merited. Of a life lost to you. One that was never yours to take. You lived a false life in a world that was falser still. Enraptured by the being of your damaged brain. Deluded, deceived. How it comforted you with vivid illusions of the intangible of your own life in the haziness of hoary dreamscapes. Influenced by your capture, shaped by the man you should loathe. But instead who you found comfort in. You only made it easier for them to erase you, for him to manipulate you. The beginning and the end; the end to your beginning. 

The ‘what-ifs’ and ‘should-haves’ all but questions gone unanswered. A mirage in a desert, right before reality set in when you looked too close, got too close. The sounds of your children laughing, their arms around your waist. Clinging, attached to the hip. Their cries to you when they had nightmares. And your consolation afterwards. Adler in the doorway. Watching, always watching you. Sharp eyes that found yours. In the gap of the evidence board when you were out of line of sight. He kept you close. Right under his thumb. The feel of Adler next to you, on you, inside you. Flesh to flesh, skin on skin. Lips to yours. Scars shown, souls bared. Fates so intertwined, so interlaced with each other, that neither of you knew where you ended and he began. But such deep ties needed to be severed. For his own good more than yours. 

And here, on such a heroic day, the complexity of the mind was incomparable to the simplicity of the heart. 

Beloathed, behated, betrayed, yet still beloved; dearly in life as in death. Heartbroken, heartsick. Disheartened. A heart that beat against contused ribs. Flames of love buried beneath ash and cinder which laid still your tender heart. But there were no asphodel fields to bury you. No tombs to house your remains. You had no headstone, no eulogy, no mourners to mourn you. No church bells in the distance. Only you, to mourn and grieve for what you never had. You would be the unspoken, the redaction. Another lost and forgotten file in the archives. No one would ever know. You would never be known or remembered. Removed from all historical accounts. Blacked out, scratched out of the records.

To Adler, you were a temporary asset. To Perseus, you were a traitorous rat. And to you? Who were you in the eyes of yourself? You thought you knew once. Even when your memories were but sand grains in the cusp of your palms. Although you felt more ghost than human, watching as the world went on without you. You were nothing but an echo of a heartbeat from a long dead heart. Where life was not for you. Never was for you. Such life was beyond you now. Where the planes of reality and dreams had collided. You were never anything more than what you needed to be. What you needed yourself to believe yourself to be. For such a life, for a family. For Adler by your side, was only conjured by a midst of madness. A madness you had thought another found beautiful. But it only made you a liability. Your brain trauma, your memory loss, your identity crisis; it was the only guarantees you knew about yourself. A byproduct of a supposed life of soldiering and espionage. Self-sacrifice. The same thing that Adler drilled into your head. It had always been for the greater good. He prepared you for this. For your eventual end. So here, it was reaped and sowed. 

Here, on this heroic day, there remained only a revered silence. 

For a dead dreamer and a sullied dream. 

----------------------------------

A/N:

Critique welcomed and encouraged as long as it is constructive and polite (don't be rude/mean pretty please ◡̈ ).

[mariariley]

Russell Adler x reader

✪ relationship headcanons ✪

2nd person

female reader

NSFW warning

Word count: 1.1k

masterlist || have a request/ask? Here are the rules <3

He prefers keeping it professional so he would never date a woman that works with him

In his free time he tends to approach a stunning woman he sees sitting alone at a bar. He's respectful and would only aim for single girls (even though he can definitely steal bitches-)

He would make cheeky jokes about his ex-wife, spontaneously letting you know he's single as well

He prefers his girl loyal and respectful because that's all he is. He also doesn’t like envious women

His way of flirting is very casual. He can "rizz you up" without even trying, make your cheeks glow bright red with a single sentence

He's quite experienced and definitely knows what he's doing. He doesn't mind age gaps as long as they're legal

I would say he's quite picky actually. He goes for the looks, elegant or unique, independent, anything that can tell him that you're sticking out in a way

He's very good at reading people so with merely a small talk he can tell if you're worth his time or no, if you're, how he likes to say, "just a pretty face"

As your partner he's very old school and passionate

Doesn’t mind if you’re just a housewife, that’s kinda his jam anyway

He likes using nicknames such as “doll face”, “sweetie” and the classic American husband one: “honey”

He would strictly keep you out of his work, not keeping you informed at all. He would claim the only thing you should know is if he's alive or not

On longer, more serious missions you two could end up out of contact for weeks just because his job requires so (which might cause arguments just like with his ex-wife)

He loves when he comes home after a hard day and you greet him with warm dinner. He would always reward you for that

He likes buying you stuff, nothing too expensive but still not affordable for everyone. He just loves spoiling you

Perhaps he would think about marriage a bit too quickly. He's a divorced (traditional) middle aged man after all, he would love to put a ring on you to mark a new fresh start and leave everything he has with his ex-wife behind

He isn't crazy about having children but wouldn't mind becoming a family man. Nevertheless, it is not that easy considering his job so the agreement on forming a family might take time (only if you want kids that is. If not, no forcing)

In bed he likes taking it slowly. He's very passionate and likes making it hot and intense

Taking his sweet sweet time, showing you all experience he's got, somewhat edging you the whole time would always make you arch your back and grab onto his hair in heavy overstimulation every time

He likes oral, prefers rather giving than receiving. It’s crazy what his tongue can do

Loves women’s breasts. Doesn’t matter what size, he just loves them in general, his favorite part to kiss (and collarbone and shoulders)

He prefers missionary so he can kiss you all over and have a proper look at you. He always whispers how good and tight you feel around him or: "You're taking it so well, sweetie", "That's my sweet girl"

He also likes the spooning position where he gets to hold your leg up

He especially loves doing the "exhausting" cowgirl when he's already drained your battery with a heated session of rough thrusts. He'd just lay back, smoke his cigarette and enjoy the view of your legs trembling while struggling to ride his girthy cock

"Come on, honey, just a little longer" he'd encourage you with a sly smile on his face

He loves when you moan his name or just Adler. Considering that's what they call him at work, it would really get him going, making him feel dominant

When you'd moan his last name he would grab a fistful of your hair, grope you tighter and go rougher, perhaps leave a couple of hickeys on your neck, breasts and collarbone

Sometimes he likes bending you over his office desk and make you take it from behind as he'd, as usual, smoke a cigar while giving you backshots

He would grab your chin or hair, making you look at him over his shoulder. He loves seeing your uncontrollable expressions of pleasure while hitting your g-spot over and over again, telling you how beautiful you look

He never pulls out. If you're having unprotected sex, he loves looking at his hot sperm leaking out of your gapping, pulsing pussy (excuse my language)

He would make sure you're clean and comfortable after, always keeping your limp body in his arms while smoking yet another for complete pleasure. That cigarette after sex is like a cherry on top for him

Speaking of being clean, he's a king of hygiene. His hair is always shiny and soft, his clothes always fresh out the closet and, of course, an expensive cologne is a must

He has very strong body and facial hair so his beard grows back quickly. When he's at home he always takes care of it, every third or fourth night a soothing smell of aftershave fills your nostrils

It's difficult for him to be 100% precise considering his deep facial scars so sometimes he cuts himself by accident. He loves when you take care of the small cuts

Speaking of which, you're the only one he allows to touch his scar. He loves when you kiss it and admire it

He's a fan of beauty marks, especially if you have any on your face. He will kiss all of them, maybe even count them for fun

He loves playing with your hair, brushing it, braiding it, anything really. He thinks women's most beautiful (physical) features are their hair and smile (also loves when women wear strong lipsticks, red is his favorite color)

If you wear glasses, expect him to buy you bunch of expensive frames. Glasses are his passion, he would even buy you sunglasses to match his

Big fan of jewelry, especially necklaces and earrings. On a mission in another country, when he'd walk past a jewelry shop, he would always stop and take a look

He's a nightmare for every jewelry shop because he is picky and he will make the employees turn the whole thing upside down, trying to find a perfect piece for you

"Honey, I'm home! And I brought you something~" would be the well known greet whenever he comes home from a long mission

He might be a reserved man but that isn't stopping him from putting his job aside just for a little while and treat you with honesty and passion

In fact, he fears something will happen to you if anyone finds out you're his s/o. He's secretly very paranoid he's putting you in danger by just having you in his life

Dividers by @firefly-graphics 🥀

[cheesy-mak]

i should put these in order but oh well LAST SNEAK PEEK THIS IS BEFORE SHIT GETS SPICY

[ineylesian]

SEPARATION ANXIETY

— RUSSELL ADLER X FEM! READER SERIES

SYNOPSIS — Adler believed he had left you behind in the Cold War. Unbeknownst to him, you were festering in the very shadow of terror he was chasing.

GENERAL WARNINGS — fem! anatomy reader, smut (undetermined if explicit or mentioned), mentions of mind control (MK Ultra, Cradle), spoilers for BOCW and BO6, weapon violence, depictions of insanity, hallucinations.

GENERAL NOTE — this series is in the works and plans are still in development. any ideas or comments are welcome!

Amidst the faded movement of Harrow’s face, the camera pans, catching the glint of metal and a static laden voice that sends chills down his spine.

“Cut the feeds, we’re being watched.”

Adler never believed he’d see you again. He had watched you fall to your death in the jungles of Vietnam 20 years ago. Yet, here you are, casting a glare that seems to pierce through the screen before the footage dies.

He’s unaware of the clamming of his hands and paling of his face until all eyes are suddenly on him.

“…shit.”

PART ONE | DEAD IN WINTER HARBOR

He thought this was a figment of his imagination. Sleepless nights riddled with guilt and regret, staring at him like he was a speck of dust in the air. Yet, it was real, you were real, real as the cold press of the barrel on his head.

This was madness.

PART TWO | NO WIND OF BLAME

If you cannot recover, you can no longer live. It’s time to wake up.

PART THREE/ EPILOGUE (TBD)

[russadler]

RUSSADLER’S KINKTOBER: DAY ONE

EXPLICIT/18+ CONTENT AHEAD

Frank Woods x F!Reader Smut

Day One: Handjobs

Frank Woods x F!Reader

A/N: K I decided to do kinktober literally last minute so sorry I’m late lol. TO pick each day, I’m using a combination of a kinktober list that was sent to me by a lovely friend and requests. I decided to do more than just Adler because I write alot of him LMFAO and I wanted to explore some other characters too! For choosing a character each day, I’m using an online wheel that pick a random name lol enjoy even tho its short and also I’ve never written frank so idk what im doing lol

“What do you think?” 

Frank is splayed across the bed behind you, deeply invested in watching you try on swimwear. You’re headed out to the beach later today with some friends, and though Frank would be in a meeting at work, you had decided he at the very least deserved a sneak peek of what he would be missing out on. 

Right now you’re modelling your pick for the day, a little black bikini that was expertly fitted to your body. 

Maybe it was a little small, maybe. Just a tad.

“What do I think? Babe, you’re hot.” The man praises, making no move to hide the way he’s devouring you with his eyes. You smile, gnawing sheepishly at your lip as you accept the praise. 

Frank moves to sit up, maneuvering himself to sit on the edge of the bed. “C’mere.” He rumbles, tattooed arms stretched out in offering. 

You advance, moving to grip his shoulders as you stand between his spread legs. Frank reaches out to grasp your ribs, thumbs rubbing reverently against your skin. 

“Jesus.” He murmurs, calloused hands tracing down the curves of your body. 

You shut your eyes, lips parting as you release a pleased sigh. Once he reaches your hips, he gives the flesh a light squeeze before sliding his hands forward to grip your ass. 

He looks up with a heated gaze, growling as he squeezes harshly at the meat of your ass while yanking you towards him. You stumble forward, nails digging into his shoulders as you steady yourself. 

“Fuck, you’re sexy.” The man growls. “It’s too bad I got work soon…” he continues, sounding dismayed at the fact. He reaches up to pinch at a nipple through the fabric of your bathing suit, causing you to squeak with surprise.

“I promise if we had the time…” Frank hums, smiling deviously to himself and shaking his head as he no doubt imagines a whole range of obscene scenarios. He reaches down to play with the string of your bottoms. “I would have been fucking your brains out by now.”

Your thighs rub together, core tingling at the combination of his touches and dirty talk. It’s then that an idea comes to you. 

“Stand up.” You whisper, and Frank just hums absentmindedly, still fixated on the lines of your body. You jostle him again and repeat yourself, and the man finally comes to. 

He rises, visibly perplexed. You swap places with him, seating yourself on the bed with the taller standing above. 

Your fingers move to unbutton the man’s pants, his eyes darting to the clock. “Babe…” He rumbles. hands moving to halt your movements. “I don’t have time…I gotta leave soon.”

You shove him off, determined to see your plan - and him - to completion. “We can make this fast.” You smile. 

His pants successfully unbuttoned, manicured fingers move to pull his hardening length free of his boxers. Your eyes meet his, lips morphed into a teasing smile as you grip the swelling flesh in your hand as the man sighs. 

Your attention then turns to the task at hand, leaning down to spit messily onto his cock as you begin to eagerly stroke him. Woods rumbles with a cut off groan from deep within his chest, a hand moving to grip your hair as you work.

One hand is at his cock, and the other massages his balls, working the precum out of him with vigorous movements. You spit on him more, the addition of his copious amounts of his fluid making it so he’s just absolutely sopping. 

“Fuck…Go faster, baby.” He growls, the grip in your hair tightening until your scalp aches in the most exquisite way. “Come on, make me fucking cum.” He urges, his visible arousal enticing you further.

The hand at his balls moves to join the other, both gripping his fattened dick and jerking it with rapid movements as you release a quiet sigh of your own. Your hips shift of their own accord on the mattress, seeking some stimulation as your arms burn with effort. 

Frank continues to groan, cursing under his breath as his girlfriend makes a mess of his cock. You watch him, eyes dilated with ecstasy. 

It’s then you get another idea, smiling to yourself as you put your plans in motion. 

Quickly you free your breasts from the bikini top, tucking the fabric out of the way. Leaning forward, you begin to rub the man’s wet cock against the flesh of your chest. Nipples hardening as you maneuver his length against your skin with a near pornographic moan. 

“Oh shit.” Frank hisses, his eyes fixated on the vulgar act before him.“You want me to cum all over those fucking tits?” He growls, a hand moving to grip your chin. His thumb traces your wet lips, thumb pressing harshly at the seam of your lips asking for entry. You humored him, mouth opening to suck on the digit.

“You like that?” He asks lowly, moving his thumb in and out of your mouth as you nod vigorously, more than ready for his release to paint her skin white. 

You go faster then, jerking his cock at a punishing pace in rapid pursuit of his release. The man grips your face tighter, pulling more moans from your throat as he lets out a chorus of his own. 

You work his dick against your now wet chest, chasing his orgasm with determination. 

It’s messy, but at least only on your part. 

Frank still had a meeting to make. 

The man grabs the base of his cock, lightly slapping it against your chest with a pleased rumble. He moves to rub the weeping head against a nipple. You let out a quiet mewl, pinching your own nipples as he moves against you. 

“I’m gonna make such a fucking mess of you.” He groans, head thrown back as he begins to rapidly jerk himself off. You know with the way he’s groaning, his body coiling with the intensity that he’s close. 

You grip the sides of his legs, clawing at the fabric of his pants as you urge him to cum. “Please…” You plead, staring at him from beneath your eyelashes. “Frank.”

A cutoff groan tumbles from deep within his throat, cursing loudly as cum sprays from the head of his cock. His semen coats your skin in powerful spurts, the head of his cock dragging through the mess he’s made on your chest as he squeezes the last of his release out. 

There’s so much, and by the time he’s done you know you’re going to need to shower. 

Frank stumbles back, the wind nearly knocked out of him with the force of his orgasm. “Holy fuck.” He pants, chest heaving. “Baby, you’re incredible.” 

Frank grips the sides of your face and plants you with an impassioned kiss. You smile as you reciprocate the affection, content despite the fact you hadn’t been able to get off yourself. You knew he’d return the favor later, he always did. 

“I need a shower.” You giggle, looking down at the mess on your chest. 

“And a new swimsuit. Sorry babe.” Woods huffs with a laugh, grabbing a washcloth and wiping the bulk of the mess away. 

“Good thing I bought an extra one.” You smile, moving to remove the garment from your body. “Did you want to see that one too?” 

Frank’s eyes dart to the clock, and he smirks. “I’ve got a spare minute.”  

Your eyes meet his, and your smile brightens. 

Good thing you work fast. 

(He’s very late to his meeting.) 

[fruitsnackbonesbaby]

Into the German Night : S. Maxis

Wlw fic!

CONTAINS SMUT !!! MINORS DNI !!!!

content warning: smut, tension, homophobia, alcohol, degrading

You sat at the end of the bar counter, sipping anxiously on the German beer in front of you. Rock music played over the speakers in the bar, as people would walk around, approaching the jukebox, and then sitting with their friends, maybe even lovers.

You watched this all, feeling lonesome upon the sight. The envy of these people stabbing into your heart, almost like a rusted knife.

You let out a sigh and took another sip from the bottle. The bartender suddenly approached you and handed you a few shots of something. You raised a brow.

“The kind woman down there bought you a few shots. She may want to become friends.” The bartender explained, smiling and gesturing down the bar. About 7 seats down was a woman in a beautiful tan leather coat, tight black jeans, and knee high black heeled boots. She had a beautiful side profile which showed off her angled nose and cheek bones, her hair framing her face like a picture.

You took in all of this as the beautiful woman waved. You panicked, and gestured to the seat next to you, inviting her to sit with you. She nods, smiling, and walks over, almost in slow motion.

“Hello.” She says, sitting down. She looks you up and down, with a hungry look in her eyes.

“Hi.” You said, smirking at her, looking her up and down, giving her a wink.

“Bold one, aren’t you darling?” She says, a thick German accent dripping from her words like a venom.

“My name’s Y/N.” You stated, leaning back on your barstool a bit, your hands gripping the broken leather and metal seat, between your knees.

“I’m Samantha, Sam for short though.” She said, biting her lip at you, and offering her hand, which you took, raising it to your lips and kissing her scratched up knuckles gently.

“Well now that we’ve introduced ourselves, let’s get out of here.” Sam continued, waving over the bartender who asked if Sam was leaving. She nodded and said she would pay for your drinks. You smiled.

The bartender gave the two of you a nod and a wink before bringing a checkbook to Sam. She paid in cash, tipping the bartender, and then grabbed your hand, pulling you up.

“Let’s go, darling.” She said, teasing you a bit. The two of you walked to her place, the rain gently sprinkled along the two of you in the German night.

“It’s beautiful out, isn’t it?” Sam said, leading you along the Berlin streets.

“Not as beautiful as you.” You smiled.

“Hey wait..” She said, stopping in front of a phone booth.

She pointed at it and looked at you.

“What if we..”

“Absolutely not.” You interrupt, laughing.

“Okay okay, let’s go, before we get colds.” Sam exclaims, walking towards an old building.

“Its my apartment building. My work gave me the suite on the top floor. Nobody’s around us, except the people below us, who moved out. So it’s just us, really.” Sam explains, walking into the building.

You nodded with a hum of understanding as the two of you stepped into an elevator.

“Top button.”

“Got it.”

The elevator doors closed and Sam grew closer to you.

“Good girl. You know, if I had stayed in that bar another second, I don’t know what I would’ve done. You’re just too damn pretty.” Sam whispered into your ear, her Germanic accent echoing in your brain.

“Hm, I would like to find out what you would’ve done. Educate me, Samantha.” Her name rolling off of your tongue.

She sighs deeply and leads her finger down your arm.

“You wanna know?”

“Yeah.” You whispered nearly out of breath, and then the elevator dinged again.

“Ah! It’s my floor. I’ll tell you in just a second.” She walked to her door, unlocking it smoothly, and leading you in, locking it behind you.

“Sit.” She pointed to a couch.

“I’ll grab drinks.” She continued, walking into the kitchen, you watched her hands as she poured wine into two glasses. The bones and veins in her hands moving. You wondered what they’d look like in different places. A shiver went down your spine and you felt a warmness in your lower stomach.

“It’s rude to stare, darling.” Samantha interrupted your thoughts.

“It’s rude to keep me waiting, ma’am.” You chimed back.

She let out a laugh as she set down the glasses and sat across from you.

“Awwe, are you that impatient? Tired of waiting for me already? You’re gonna have one hell of a night then.” Samantha responded, smirking, leaning backwards, resting her head on a large pillow behind her.

You whined.

“Please just tell me what you were going to say on the elevator, it’s killing me!” You pleaded.

“Ah, that. You wanted to know what I would do to you?” She smirked again. That fucking smirk.

You thought. It wasn’t what we were going to do, it was what she was gonna do to you.

Another shiver.

More warmth.

“Yeah. Tell me.”

“I would’ve fucking had you in that bathroom.”

You felt yourself grow warmer, and more flustered.

“Pinned you against the wall- had you begging. Is that what you wanted to hear, my little slut?” She said. You shouldn’t enjoy her degrading, sinful, words.

But you did. You loved every single one.

Your body was begging to be touched though, so you moved closer to her.

“Hm? You liked that huh?” She said huskily, moving closer to you.

“Fuck me.” You uttered out the words Samantha had been begging to hear since she saw you. She groaned.

“God I was waiting for that, darling.” She smirked and moved closer.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes. Please just touch me.” You begged.

She hummed with approval, dipping her head into a deep kiss, grabbing the back of your head, pulling your hair, keeping your head in her level.

You both pulled apart, and she smiled down at your state.

You whined, wanting her to do more to you.

“Fuck- please, Sam, just, fuck me, please.” You begged.

She smiled sadistically.

“Can I spit in your mouth, love? And mark you as mine? Fuck you like you’re mine?” She asked.

“Of course, just don’t keep me waiting.” You moaned.

She smiled and began unbuttoning your shirt, slowly but surely, you were now mostly exposed to the German woman as she nibbled along your neck, receiving moans and whimpers from you, as she marked you.

Her cold, beautiful hands ran down your body as she laid you down underneath her.

“God, you’re so fucking pretty, begging for me like that.” She whispered as she observed you, sweaty and flustered underneath her body.

“Open up love.” Samantha demanded, as she leaned over you.

You opened your legs, providing her access to you, before she moved her finger from side to side.

“Uh uh, wrong one love.”

You looked at her in confusion and she pointed to her mouth.

“Can I-“

“Please.”

She then spat, her saliva landing in your mouth, you swallowed it, moaning as you felt her spit going down your throat.

“You like that huh? You wish I came down your throat?” Samantha enticed.

You nodded, clenching your thighs together, hoping for the stimulation that Samantha hadn’t yet gave you.

She let out a small laugh and then kissed down to your hips, taking off your jeans, as she slid them off she let out a wolf whistle, seeing how pretty you were, and you weren’t even naked yet.

“Did you dress all fancy in case you got fucked? Is that how much of a little slut you are?” She said, lightly slapping the top of your clothed clit.

You moaned just by the slight friction.

“Please- fuck me” You uttered the words again, a plead, begging. Your body tingling and throbbing, wishing to be used by the woman who stood over you, dominating you.

She kissed you, and then bit the top of your underwear, bringing it off your body with merely her teeth.

You moaned at just the sight. She hadn’t even fucked you yet and you were a moaning mess.

“Shit you’re so fucking wet for me darling. Do I really excite you that much?” She enthused. You simply moaned in response.

She lowered her head towards your wetness and then stopped.

“Wh- what?” You moaned out.

“Do you touch yourself?” She asked, now propping her hands on your bare thighs.

“Yes.” You answered simply.

“What do you think of?”

“Being fucked so hard I can’t walk the next day, edged until I’m sobbing, and having a woman deep inside me.” You answered honestly, staring up at Samantha.

“Good thing I can make that all happen sweetheart. I have no problem being deep in that pretty pussy of yours.” She said, as she removed a hand off your thigh, and slowly shoved two fingers into you.

You groaned as you felt your eyes roll back into your head due to the sensation. You felt yourself throbbing as her fingers moved in and out of you, her sinful praises filling your head.

“Oh my god, Samantha please.” You begged, moving yourself up and down on her, wanting to be fucked even harder.

“Darling, should I bring out my toys?” She offered, smiling at you menacingly.

“Please.”

“Alright, then you should follow me to the bedroom. I’d rather not have your cum stains on my brand new couch.” She teased, leading you into her bedroom.

“Who says I’ll cum anyway?” You asked, punching her shoulder as the two of you walked into her bedroom.

“Hmm, seeing as you were just moaning and begging for me, I’d say you’ll probably cum pretty fast. Or maybe, I won’t even let you.” She said, her voice deepening.

Suddenly, she smirked at you and pushed you onto her bed. She laid on top of you for a moment before smoothly removing your bra with one hand, and tossing it across her room. She quickly leaned over her bed and pulled out a small red and black box.

She smiled and laid out a blindfold, and a strap-on.

“Want anything else, liebe?” She offered.

“To be fucked.” You said dryly, although your dry speech couldn’t be compared to the wetness you had down below.

Samantha laughed before setting the box on the floor and shoving it underneath her bed.

“Fucking you, is something I can do.”

She stood above you and strapped the strap-on to herself, and then leaned down and tied the blindfold across your eyes, resulting in your sight becoming blackened.

“Does it fit well, darling?” She asked.

You nodded and you heard a small hum from Sam.

“I’m going to use this strap on now. Are you okay with this?” She checked. You nodded and she said nothing.

“I need verbal consent.”

“I consent.”

“Thank you.”

She lightly kissed you on the forehead before rubbing the tip of the strap on your clit. You moaned and bucked your head back at the teasing sensation affecting you.

After you got used to that feeling, she thrusted into you.

Obscenities and praises started to leave your mouth as she fucked you.

“You’re doing so fucking good for me, mein baby.” Samantha said, as she sped up.

“I’m close!” You yelled in between moans and cries.

As all the sensations came together, she suddenly stopped.

“Sam please!” You cried out to her, the emptiness in you denying you of relief.

“Mmm, fine, since you were nice about it. I’ll give you my cock.”

A few more seconds went by, and then suddenly she flipped you over, your back arching as she set a free hand on the bottom of your spine. You felt yourself shiver as she lined herself up.

Fast, hard strokes were going in and out of you, and you were a moaning mess as the German woman fucked you.

“You like that?” She teased as she brought her other hand around your neck and softly choked you as she sped up fucking you from behind.

“Fuck!” You screamed as you felt yourself melt and cum on her strap. The waves of your orgasm affecting your body. Bliss filling your veins

“Oh fuck.” She said, out of breath, as you shook on top of her cock.

“Jesus you’re good.” Sam continued.

You stayed silent and simply rolled over, still catching your breath.

“Hey, I got you, sweetheart.” Samantha cooed, crawling towards you, as she undid her strap, and then undid your blindfold. As the fabric came off your eyes, you saw the beautiful German in front of you again.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked.

“Of course, darling, anything you want.” Samantha said, leaning herself closer to you. You pressed a kiss on her slightly sweaty forehead and fell backwards.

“Can we shower and eat?” You asked, as your stomach growled from how much physical activity you just did.

“Anything. Want me to shower with you, and help you feel comfortable?” Sam asked, rubbing your arms up and down, smiling.

“Please.” You said weakly, struggling to get up, as your legs shook violently beneath your wrecked core.

“Hmm, I went hard on you, I’m sorry.” Samantha apologized as she led you to the bathroom.

“s’okay” You softly said, kissing her hand.

You pressed a kiss to her forehead again, and then turned the water on.

She immediately hopped in with you, scrubbing the dirt and filth of the day off, alongside the post-sex sweat and oil.

“You’re so pretty.” Samantha said, looking down at you.

“You are!” You said back.

The banter continued as you bathed each other under the hot water.

“Ready to eat?” Samantha inquired, smiling at you.

You nodded and ran to the kitchen after putting on some pajamas that Samantha handed to you.

“Sandwich?” She asked, holding a jar of strawberry jam in her left hand, a butter knife and peanut butter in her right hand.

You smiled and nodded as she made the two of you sandwiches.

After eating, you felt your body get tired.

“Sam, should I sleep on the couch, or with you?” You asked, yawning.

She poured the neglected wine-filled glasses from earlier back into the bottle as she thought.

“You can sleep with me, I tend to take the blankets though.” She responded with a chuckle.

You made your way back to the bedroom and flipped the comforter up, wiggling underneath the surface on which you’d been obliterated by the Germanic woman.

She soon laid down next to you under the covers, taking you in her arms.

You felt your eyes grow heavy, and you fell asleep in Samantha’s arms, the German night taking you.

——————————————-

Sorry for the long oneshot!!! It’s my first one and I really like Samantha so I figured I would try writing something for her! 💕

[guigz1-coldwar]

Needs to satisfy : Wraith/Knight (Smut +18)

Warning : Smut, +18 content

Summary: Before leaving for doing Stitch's work in the Yamautau, Wraith is willing to do something to fulfill her necessary needs.

We were soon going to be sent by plane to the Yamantau to retrieve what Stitch wanted for his plans but right now, the only thing I wanted was to get only some relief and pleasure but there was no one to satisfy my naughty needs...no one except Knight himself. He can surely help me with that.

I was already prepared in terms of outfit but I couldn’t wait anymore. I wanted to blow him just for my pleasure, not right when we will be in the skies in that plane, it was now or never. I started to walk into the room where he was preparing himself away, finding him, putting on his mask.

“Knight, I need you,” I started to him in a clear & serious voice as I was entering the room he was in, surprising him by the look of it.

“Need me? For what?” He asked me in a confused voice.

“Put your pants down, I need it,” I replied, closing the door behind me and already removing my bulletproof vest off me, putting it away on a chair.

“Need what?” He continued to ask me, not understanding at all my needs even if it was damn obvious with what I was doing.

“Are you stupid or something?” I said. “I want to blow off your dick before we’re leaving the base, is that so hard to understand?” I clarified myself to him, taking off my mask and walking to him. “Come on, pull your pants down, now!” I ordered, sounding very serious in my voice, more serious than I could have been with a simple order.

“Uhm...okay,” He whispered as he was unbuckling his belt, seeming a bit disturbed before he put down his black military pants on the ground, revealing his grey boxers to my eyes as I was kneeling on the ground in front of him.

“Mmhm...seems that you’re not this hard enough,” I commented, looking at the package he was hiding in his boxers. “Do I really need to make you hard or something?” I demanded him, peaking my eyes to see his face.

“Just...can you unzip your top? I can be harder if you want,” He suggested to me, well knowing that he was dreaming to see my breasts, just by looking in his eyes

“As you wish, little pervert,” I muttered, using my left hand to unzip my combat outfit slowly, keeping eye contact to see his reaction on some things below my clothes.

“Wait, you’re not wearing any bras?” He told me, surprised to not see anything below my clothes…seeing my breasts coming out in the cold of the room.

“I didn’t want to wear one this day, now, pull down your boxers, let me see it,” I responded to him after I was done to unzipping only my top to his sight, not wanting to tease him more for him, I was the one in need, not him.

He then complied to my little orders, taking down his boxers as he was looking away from me in a sort of shame of himself before I could discover his cock, still not hard but half way from it, making me sigh.

“Really? I have to do this by myself,” I mumbled, shaking my head to that before I decided to put my hand around his dick, starting to warn him up slowly and it was at this moment that I could see him groan.

“My god...don’t fucking stop,” He groaned, looking at the ceiling.

“Hey, I’m the one in charge, let me do my job, Knight,” I reminded right now of the things I wanted, still stroking him.

I was getting his dick slowly into a hard way but to make it harder and to satisfy what I needed, I decided to start to move my head closely to his dick before getting into licking his balls with my tongue, continuing to giving an handjob as my brown eyes were not removing themselves from his face.

My right hand was not on him but on me, stroking my right boob to give myself some pleasure to myself before I slided it down my body, inside my suit to stroke my pussy, even closing my eyes about it and then, he was finally hard enough for me...finally.

“Alright, big boy, be ready,” I scoffed, my voice trying to not break down with pleasure because of my right hand before I start to put myself in front of his hard toy.

I took a deep breath before opening my mouth and leaning to welcome his cock right inside of it, feeling the cold of it on my lips as he was continuing to groan, as if he was overwhelmed by my lips and my moves, his hands staying along his top, seeing them briefly struggling to not put them on my head.

“Wraith...you’re so great…” He said, his voice breaking down, the first time I saw him doing that.

To concentrate better on sucking him, I stopped stroking my pussy with my right hand , getting up to put it right above Knight’s chest as my mouth was going to start to get deeper & deeper to let his dick entirely in it...I wanted it entirely...entirely.

The seconds were passing and Knight decided to put his hands around my head, holding me gently around it, looking at me with puppy eyes and still surprised that I was going down on him, making a blowjob to him.

“My god, deeper,” He said before his hands around my head were reinforcing their hold, getting behind it to make me deeper.

I continued, moving by myself and by him, slowly getting faster & faster, gaining at each second more place for his hard cock to come into my mouth. It was at this moment that I put my arms around his waist as he was starting to facefucking me by his own will.

“Shit...I’m...fuck...cumming…”He moane, looking up as he was still facefucking me like a doll. “Wraith, I need to pull out now,” He warned me but I didn’t give a fuck about what he said, keeping his dick inside of me. “Fuck...fuck!” He almost shouted when I could feel his cum going out of his cock, filling my mouth with it.

I stopped moving when he was cumming, seeing him take a deep breath and amazed by what he did to me as me, I was satisfied, feeling his cum on my lips and his dick all wet...what a big toy to play with…

“Good boy,’ I commented, looking up at him in a normal voice, slowly passing my hand near my lips, a little drop of his cum coming on my fingers. “Nice taste, seems you have been awaiting for this for a long time,”

“I...I...Wraith, I wish that we can…”

“Nope, you can dream for yourself,” I cut him straight, starting to go up in front of him. “I just needed you for relief, nothing else,” I revealed to him, moving near my bulletproof vest I let on the desk after zipping back my outfit.

“What? You can’t be serious? You just literally let me blow your mouth,” He stated, gesturing at my lips, seeing his own cum on it. “It was looking like you wanted more,”

“No, I just wanted to relax, the thing we did was only for my needs,” I told him, putting my vest around me, making sure that it was perfect. “I let you blow me as you said but it’s the end of it,” I turned around to see him still naked. “Get your pants back on, you ain’t going to go to the Yamantau half-naked.” I suggested.

“You’re really a little bitch, you know that?” Knight implied, resigning himself to get dressed again.

“And you, you weren’t hard enough for me so don’t speak up against me, Knight,” I scoffed at him. “Now, if you talk about this, you’re a dead man,” I threatened him in a very serious voice before putting my mask on, the cum still on my lips. “Get yourself ready now for good, we’re leaving soon,” I said before walking to open the door & then left the room, leaving Knight alone.

He was the only one I could do this but this was only to fulfill my own needs. Now, I was walking towards the hangar, mask on, outfit on, tasting his little cum around my lips hidden by the mask...too bad that I wasn’t into guys...it was just an experience but now...it was time to get to work...

[samatedeansbroccoli]

Maybe an incorrect quote of the TF141 members or Safehouse Crew finding out about the hellsite that is... the CoD fanfiction hellzone on Tumblr? 😏

(feel free to put our moots as cameo appearances bc I thought it'll be fun)

I made two because of the different timelines.

TF141

Soap: What are you doing?

Price: Reading a fanfiction about you and I being shipped together by Prices-Ass-dot-com on Tumblr. The summary was interesting but the story’s bloody awful. I’m almost tempted to write a better fanfic.

Soap: Huh. Good luck, I guess.

*15 minutes later*

Ghost: Why is Roach feeding Soap ice cream?

Ghost: Better question: why is Soap crying in the bathroom?

Gaz: Price didn’t like his Soap x Price fanfic.

And now BOCW

Park: What happened to your face, Bell?

Bell: Oh, I gave Adler something to read.

Bell: He couldn’t figure out how to work my phone

Bell: But he knew how to throw it at me.

Park: What was it?

Bell: A Mason x Woods smut fanfic.

Bell: Belikov wrote it.

[russadler]

RUSSADLER’S KINKTOBER DAY TWO

EXPLICIT/18+ CONTENT

Alex Mason x F!OC Smut

Day Two: Eating Out

Alex Mason x F!OC

A/N: mason and female oc in a cabin somewhere idk lol i wrote alex more similarly i guess to how he was in black ops 1?? once again idk lol

There’s an electricity in the air, like lightning about to strike, the static raising the hair on the back of her neck. 

It hasn’t stopped snowing all day. 

Alex, the Alaskan boy he is, was more than prepared. The fireplace burns steadily, a large supply of wood that would probably last them days at the ready. She could have kissed that smirk off his face when she realized that he had literally thought of everything. 

Now, they’re snowed in, and they have nothing but time.

The tension coils in her gut, her core aching and waiting.

She waits for him to strike, for the tension to be too much for him to bear, for him to feel the same way that she does now. Yet, Alex is stone faced, unbothered as he finds things to do around the small cabin in his own quiet way. 

She wants to feel him give in, wants to watch him snap, but Alex Mason has mastered stoicism in his own right. Time is nothing to him, hardship is nothing to him. 

What’s being cooped up in some house to a man who had been a prisoner for a year? 

At last, she can’t wait any longer, and right when she’s ready to get what she wants from him, Alex finally comes to her. 

Not because he can’t take it, but because he knows that she can’t. 

He smirks that same stupid, knowing smirk again. The same one he wore when she realized he was ready for the storm. 

She’d kiss that stupid smirk off of him if he wasn’t using his mouth for something better. 

One minute she’s reading a book in the sitting room, and the next Alex has her naked and stretched out in front of the fireplace. The flames ensure her naked body stays warm despite the chill surrounding them, the fur beneath her tickling her skin. 

He’s still wearing his jeans and wool sweater, and the fact he’s fully clothed while she wears not a shred of fabric makes the whole thing even more erotic. 

Alex parts her legs, hand stroking down the insides of her thighs until they reach her pussy. His eyes are locked on her slit, a thumb moving to give her clit a single miniscule flick. 

Her hips leave the floor, desperate for more as a strained mewl emerges from deep within. Alex rumbles, pleased with the results. 

“Sensitive?” He asks, the corners of his lips upturning with an almost cocky grin. 

His hands make no move to stimulate her again, and her legs jostle with frustration. “Fuck you.” She sneers, tired of the way the man plays with her and always manages to win. 

Alex laughs quietly then, his voice raspy and low as he moves to kiss at her thighs. The combination of his voice and his stubble tickling her in all the right places.

“You wish.” He retorts, nipping teasingly at the flesh of her leg.

And without another word, he dives in. 

His tongue traces from the bottom of her slit to her clit, and she can’t help the moan that the act tears from her throat. Her hand quickly moves to clamp her mouth, hushing the sounds that follow. 

“There’s no one around to hear us.” Alex rumbles, pressing a delicate kiss to her clit. “Let me hear you.” 

The man surges forth again, this time tasting her with what she could only describe as absolute greed. His tongue moving back and forth between flicking at her clit and plunging into her hole. 

She writhes like a feral animal beneath him, her cries unsilenced at his behest. His hands grip punishingly at her thighs, holding her hips down as they thrash in response to the way he’s eating her out. 

Eventually he settles on simply tongue fucking her, the flesh moving in and out of her cunt at an even pace. Her nails scrape at his scalp, a mixture of curses, moans, and his name tumbling from her mouth in a disorganized flurry. 

Alex, Alex, Alex.

Please.

She wills herself to look down, her head having been tossed back the majority of the time he’s spent between her legs. He’s feeding upon her like a wolf who’s captured long awaited prey, feral but satisfied. 

His eyes meet hers, and his tongue goes deep as he lets out a groan of his own. The vibration reaching a place deep inside her that takes her straight to the edge. 

Alex removes his tongue from her hole, his mouth attaching itself to her clit and sucking hard. 

She comes so hard that she sobs, her vision whiting out as she reaches her peak. There’s nothing she knows for that split second but the heat of the fireplace and the sensation of Alex Mason’s mouth at her pussy. 

The next thing she knows, there’s a hand rubbing tenderly at her hip and the man is no longer between her legs. She looks over, where he lays next to her as casual as can be, arms behind his head and staring at the ceiling as if he didn’t just bring her to the greatest orgasm of her life with just his mouth. 

Her chest heaves, still out of breath and brain still processing what the fuck just happened. 

Alex turns to look at her, eyebrow cocked as if to say what?

“Okay…” She pants, reaching over to put a hand on his belt with a smile. “Now that you’ve shown me what you can do with your mouth…why don’t I show you what I can do with mine?” 

[samatedeansbroccoli]

I have a lot but yeah, ask away!

A list of anyone cares:

1. David makes a cheeseburger for Harper

2. Adler uses Bell’s favorite childhood song to torture them.

3. Charkov and Belikov become friends because they both have pitch perfect hearing

4. Sims visits a lonely Lazar on the holidays

5. Belikov x Bell but neither can speak each other’s language.

6. Stitch x Bell where Bell thinks about Stitch while being tortured

7. Dad!Woods and Dad!Mason where David is a bitch

8. Woods x Mason smut

9. Portnova x Park

10. Adler x Ex-Wife

11. Angel!Woods x Mason

12. Player realizes Hendricks is dead

13. Mason has a panic attack

14. Woods x Mason but Mason cheats on Woods

15. Farah and Hadir play a game of Russian Roulette

16. Woods has a meltdown

17. Lazar x Park

18. Ghost offers to become paralyzed!Roach’s caretaker

19. Ramirez x Foley smut

20. Hudson and David make midnight cookies

21. Just my BO2 OCs vibing

22. Player x Hendricks

23. Bell injects Adler with MK-Ultra, causing him to lose his personality

24. Adler is sentenced to death row. Bell cooks his last meal

25. Bell gives Adler a new lighter

26. Soap makes an android and names it Price

27. BO4 (re)written

28. Hudson hides Bell from the government

29. Menéndez fosters David

30. Bell suffers from hallucinations from MK-Ultra

31. BO3 rewritten in which Player has DID

32. Wild West!BOCW

33. Dempsey is nice to Richthofen

34. RiDe

35. David Mason alone in a room… doing *things* to thoughts about Harper

36. David has an anxiety attack

37. Woods x Mason but kinky

38. David x Trans!Harper

39. David x Harper but kinky

40. The kid!Bell fic

41. Ghost x Roach

Supernatural:

1. Jessica Moore and Constance plan to take down Sam Winchester

Reblog if it is okay for people to randomly pop into your ask with questions about your fanfic(s)

[russadler]

The Red Room (Russell Adler x OC! Bell) SMUT/EXPLICIT

Bell needs something from Adler...

EXPLICIT/SMUT 18+

A/N: Just a little something I wrote while in quarantine. I imagine this taking place in my “A Little Death” universe (I’ll probably find a way to write it in later on) but this can be read as a standalone if you wish. I’m still looking to add to “Playing with Fire” so stay tuned in the meanwhile. Thanks for reading!

It’s only midday and Bell can feel herself cracking. The CIA agent makes a half-decent effort to make herself look busy with her own assigned tasks, but in reality she feels her skin crawl with yearning. 

Her mind is fixated on one thing and one thing only.

With the others having either gone into town for lunch or other business, the main area of the safehouse is left solely occupied by Adler and herself. Bell slips into the red room as soon as she sees the chance. 

The brunette toes quietly into the workspace, not looking to completely interrupt her fellow agent’s current task at hand. Adler still turns when he hears footsteps behind him, his ears finely tuned after years of espionage work. 

Russell greets her with a simple “Bell.” As he continues developing the image in his possession. The American man is not a fool by any means, he knows she wants something. What exactly it is she seeks is another question entirely. 

He of course sees fit to make her wait until he is ready to give it.

Bell leans casually against an adjacent table to observe Adler as he works, her arms supporting her body as she leans back. The position pushes her chest forward and thus causes her nipples to poke very visibly through the thin white cotton of her muscle shirt. Her choice in attire had already earned a look from the elder man earlier in the day, but he had chosen to not make any comment. 

The young woman studies the muscles of Adler’s arms intently as he works, paying extra attention to the way his back shifts through the material of his dark green polo. 

Russell finishes his current project after a few short minutes, taking time to set his tools down and remove his gloves before turning to face his companion. 

“What do you need, Bell?” He questions. 

The woman in question moves from her place at the table and slowly approaches the man, stopping only when they touch chest to chest so he can feel her hardened nipples as her fingers hook themselves in his belt loops. 

The brunette peers up at the older man, gnawing at her lip in a show of both nervousness and want. 

“Bell.” Adler sighs. “We can’t — not here. Not now.”

“So you still want to?” Bell asks mischievously in return. “You didn’t say no, just that we can’t.”

Adler sighs again, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his lover’s lips as his hands come to grip at her sides.

“You know damn well I’d love to baby.” He replies quietly, his thumbs rubbing softly at the meat of her hips. “But if we were caught, there would be lots of trouble for both of us, especially for me.” 

The shorter of the pair doesn’t consider the other’s answer for too long. She already expected him to say no, it was why she came with a back up plan. 

Bell leans in to whisper in the other’s ear. “Let me suck you off.” 

She leans back to observe the man’s reaction. Adler is a man of very subtle mannerisms. He isn’t easy to read, but the lack of sunglasses as well as her personal relationship to him makes things a lot easier. 

His face doesn’t shift at all with surprise, but instead she sees the minute etchings of curiosity decorate the man’s features. 

Adler’s eyes dart quickly to the door. Bell answers his unsaid question. 

“Everyone’s gone out for lunch, and we both know Hudson has meetings at BND headquarters all day.” The female states matter of factly, beginning to reach for the man’s belt. “We still don’t have enough time for you to fuck me, but surely I can get you to cum in my mouth at least.” 

Once his belt is unbuckled, her dark haired form drops to its knees in front of her commanding officer. As she wrestles his cock out from his briefs, Bell feels the light touch of Adler’s hand on the crown of her head as he pushes back the hair falling in her face. 

The Russian finally reaches her goal, the man’s half chubbed length presenting itself as she tucks his briefs behind his sack. Leaning forward to suck the engorged tip into her mouth, Bell glances up at Adler as his flesh enters her mouth. 

She notes the way his jaw clenches in the red light, groan caught in his throat as he watches her closely. The woman works to suck more of his fattening length into her mouth, left hand gripping at his thigh as her right grips the base and massages what she can’t fit in her mouth. 

Russell reaches down to stroke delicately at her chin.

 “Good girl...you’re so good for me.” He whispers adoringly, admiring his girl as she sucks him off.

Bell closes her eyes and continues working her mouth up and down, knees becoming sore as they rub at the cement floor. A hand coming to rest on the top of her head, guiding but not pushing her to take him further. 

“Lift your shirt, let me see those gorgeous tits” Russell whispers roughly, hand on her head shifting to grip at her hair as she swallows down more of him.

The beauty complies with the man’s directive and her left hand moves to lift her shirt, exposing her perky breasts to the chilled air. Bell straightens at the sound of Adler’s pleased hum. 

As she sucks him further, she eventually feels her gag reflex trigger. Forced to pull back and take a moment to breathe, Bell knows she looks a mess, hair mussed by Russell’s grip and saliva covering her face, but she knows they both enjoy the absolute filth of these things. 

Russell rubs at her bottom lip with his thumb as she gasps for air, playfully pushing it forward for her to suck at before pulling away.

“Sweet girl…” He rasps with a smirk, moving forward to tap the tip of his cock on her swollen lips. “Better move faster if you want me to cum before they come back.” 

She beams back with a stellar smile of her own, before opening her mouth to allow him to push his cock forward. The elder groans, swearing under his breath as Bell resumes sucking him off with vigor. 

Bell swallows him deeper with each pass, moaning in pleasure as she gets him off. Adler’s hand clenches and grips at her hair as attempts go restrain himself from fucking her throat.

As much as she would love him to, they both know they wouldn’t be able to explain why she suddenly lost her voice midway through the day. 

“God...you’re so good to me Bell…” Adler murmurs. 

The brunette pulls back suddenly from sucking his cock to lap at his balls, moaning in unison with him as she begins to suck harshly at a testicle.

“Fuck...Bell...yes.” Adler hisses, tossing his head back as his face pinches in bliss. Bell makes note to suck at the other testicle as well before returning to swallow his length. 

From that point on the younger begins a rapid and zealous assault on the CIA agent’s erection, determined to make him cum. A hand jerks him at the base, while her mouth moves along his length at a swift pace. 

The red room becomes filled with Adler’s groans and quiet praises, mostly drowned out by the wet sounds of Bell choking on his fattened dick. 

Bell can feel herself absolutely melt as she blows him. The carnal act and the absolute danger of their current situation feeds her insatiable appetite for the man. She feels the hot burn of tears run down her face as she makes herself swallow him with haste until she chokes, a mess of saliva covering most of her face and dripping down her chin. 

“Make me cum baby...I know you can…” Adler encourages as he’s cut off by his own groan. “Suck that cock dry...I wanna cum in your mouth.” 

The Russian whimpers at the words as she continues her assault on his penis for another few minutes. She wants nothing more than to feel the warmth of his release in her mouth, to hear him cry out as he releases. 

She pulls back and takes a deep breath before rapidly sucking him to the base in one go, she coughs as she deepthroats him for the first time but she still manages to hold on.

It finally does the trick. 

“Oh fuck! Bell I’m gonna fucking cum…I’m gonna cum. Oh Jesus…” The man lets out a groan from deep within his chest as he releases. His partner’s hair tightly gripped by both hands. 

Bell pulls back, only leaving the tip in her mouth as he comes. The salty taste of his thick release soon fills her oral cavity. 

“Show me.” He growls lowly. “Show me the cum I put in your mouth then swallow.” 

Pulling back off his softening cock, the female leans back and opens her mouth. Her tongue is barely visible beneath the sea of white cum.

Adler places a finger under her chin to tilt it upwards and whistles approvingly at the sight. “Goddamn...good girl. Letting me dirty your mouth like that.” 

He removes the finger from underneath her jaw and steps back. “Now swallow it.”

Her mouth snaps closed, and she angles her head upwards to make a show of her throat moving as she swallows. She finishes by reopening her mouth, now bare of his release. 

Adler gives her a lopsided smirk and helps her from the floor, greeting her as she rises with a filthy kiss. He seems uncaring of her messy state, and of the fact she just swallowed his load. 

“Oh you filthy, filthy girl…Thank you.” Another kiss, followed by one of his hands moving to push a stray hair behind her ear as Bell smiles shyly. “You’re fantastic, you know that?” 

He moves to help her clean her face with a spare handkerchief she had brought along, before using it to wipe his now soft cock before zipping himself up.

Russ gives her one last kiss, arms enveloping her shorter form and pulling her close as he leans down to whisper in her ear. “I’m going to make you cum so hard later...I’m going to make you fucking shake. You hear me?” 

She nods silently as he pulls back, one of his hands coming to grip at the meat of her ass.

Bell takes a moment to enjoy his hold. "I’m gonna go get freshened up properly before everyone gets back, because I definitely look like I just sucked someone off.” She declares as she begins to pull away. 

Adler gives a huff of amusement as he begins to head back to his work station. “Yeah...I think that’s a good plan.” Bell smiles at him as he begins to put on a new pair of gloves while she moves to the door. 

“See you later?” He asks, his head turning to look at her one last time as she leaves. 

“See you later.” She confirms, blowing one last teasing kiss over her shoulder as she strolls out the door. 

Bell debates later if she imagined it, but she swears he smiled as she left. Not a smirk, or the tight lipped smile he rarely dons. 

No, she swears, he beamed. 

A/N: This one goes out to @judo-98​ <3