#frank woods x alex mason x reader

[writeforfandoms]

The Calling - 1

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This will eventually be Frank Woods x f!reader x Alex Mason. It was planned to be Frank Woods x reader but as I started writing it, Frank and Alex insisted on sharing. Menaces.

This is part of the dragon riders AU, but shows a different part of the AU. Hopefully you guys will enjoy it.

Warnings: Swearing, yearning, repressed feelings, flirting, some politics, Frank and Alex are menaces of the best variety.

Word count: 1.4k

You tapped your fingers against your thigh absently as you waited, gaze only half-focused on the world around you. Frank and Alex were back earlier than expected, which could be good or bad. 

It was always hard to tell, with those two. 

At least they hadn't come back bleeding this time. 

Two familiar heads of dark hair bobbed into sight, and you blinked the world back into focus. Alex and Frank entered the meeting room together, as usual. Alex nudged Frank with his elbow, and Frank grumbled something and shoved him back. You raised one eyebrow at the pair. Alex grinned at you while Frank just huffed. 

But you didn't have a chance to talk to them, as the other three walked in together. The Primes walked in together, as always, with the Director just behind them. The Director closed the door behind him, giving everyone a moment to sit. 

You already had your chair pulled away from the table, separate from the meeting. A silent observer. You sat quietly, notepad balanced on your leg, prepped to take notes. 

“What have you found?” The Director asked, firm and no nonsense, as always. 

Frank and Alex both straightened, shoulders back, though Alex was the one that answered. 

“Fewer nests than last time,” Alex reported. “Most of the activity we spotted was higher elevation, too.” 

“Higher elevation?” The Prime man, Alistair, asked, leaning forward slightly. “How much higher?”

Alex shrugged. “High enough that it was nearly impossible to get up to them,” he said, speaking slowly. Probably weighing his words, making sure he wasn't being too brusque. “They were still hunting in the valley and the lower slopes of the mountains, but they had moved. We couldn't find any evidence as to why.” 

The Director accepted this, leaning back in his seat. The Primes, on the other hand, exchanged worried looks. You didn't blame them - any change in behavior among the wyverns was… concerning. 

“What else?” The Prime woman, Erika, asked, folding her hands on the table in front of her. 

Frank shrugged. “They're wyverns,” he said, leaning back a little. “They didn't care about much except hunting and fucking.” 

You had to hide your smile, made easier by the fact that you were looking down at your notes. Frank was one of the very few people you knew that dared to use such crass language in front of the Primes. 

“Even so.” She shook her head, dark hair streaked with silver pulled back and gleaming in the light. “I don't like this change.” 

Alex shrugged. “They've changed before. There was that season half their nests were destroyed.” 

“This is different.” But she didn't say more, lips pursing together. 

“This will require more investigation,” Alistair said instead. “We will discuss this matter and inform you when we need you to go again.” 

“In the meantime, you have earned a rest,” the Director cut in. “Dismissed.” 

Alex and Frank both stood, inclining their heads to the three. Alex nudged his foot into yours and, when you looked up at him, nodded to the hallway. You shrugged, and he nodded, taking long strides after Frank. 

You shook your head just a little and looked back at your notes, waiting for the three to decide if they were going to continue their meeting. 

“This change in behavior concerns me,” Erika said softly, brow furrowed. “They do not change their behavior lightly.” 

“Especially not in a year that has been productive,” Alistair agreed. “There is no shortage of food for them, no reason for them to live so high.” 

The Director snorted. “This is not the biggest change we have seen from them,” he dismissed. “So they have gone higher up the mountain. It is no concern of ours why.” 

Alistair and Erika exchanged looks, but you didn't say anything. It wasn't your place. 

“If you're so concerned, we'll send a team to investigate further,” the Director offered, waving one careless hand. “Those two should remain until after the hatching, at least.” 

“Very well.” Erika stood. “Pick your team. I want them ready to go by the morning after tomorrow.” She swept out of the room, Alistair right on her heels. 

You remained seated, finishing your notes. Besides. You knew that the Director would require your help. 

Sure enough, the Director tapped his nails against the table. “I'll send a group of three,” he decided without actually looking at you. “They'll need the usual supplies. I expect it all arranged before midday tomorrow.”

You nodded, accepting that easily. “It will be done,” you agreed. 

“Good. Dismissed.” 

You stood, inclining your head to the Director, and walked out of the meeting room. Fortunately, arranging supplies shouldn't be a problem. It would be nice to know which three the Director was planning to send, so you could be sure to take preferences into account, but maybe you could find out later. 

“Hey.” 

You jumped, startled out of your head by Alex. He and Frank both snickered at you. Not meanly, though it had taken you a while to figure that out. They just didn't have many chances to relax, and this kind of gruff teasing was a way they showed affection. 

“Jumpy today,” Frank observed, knocking a loose fist against your shoulder. 

“Just lost in thought.” You shrugged but didn't move away from them. “Any new injuries?”

“Nah,” Frank said, waving a hand. “Nothing worth noting.”

You eyed him, because his definition of something “worth noting” varied wildly from yours. A quick glance at Alex proved that he was still relaxed and smiling. Nothing serious, then. You relaxed. 

“So, where are you going first? Food? Or your friends?” You started walking again, trusting they'd keep pace with you. They did, Alex on your left and Frank on your right. 

“Food first,” Frank said, glancing at you. “That asshole can't cook for shit.”

“Neither can you,” Alex shot back with no heat. 

“Why do you think I make sure you both have easy food?” You shook your head, amused. “Honestly.”

“Because you like us and you'd be sad if we died in the wilderness,” Alex offered, only half-teasing. 

“Well, it would make my life easier…” You couldn't help but grin at the twin indignant noises that earned you. 

“You'd be bored without us, admit it.” Frank jostled you with his elbow, though notably more gently than when he did it to Alex. 

“I'd be something without you,” you conceded, still smiling. 

“Bah. Clearly it's been too long since you've been drinking with us.” Frank shook your shoulder loosely. 

“Don't even think about it,” you warned, shooting him a quelling look. “I have work I have to do.” 

“It'll wait,” Alex started.

“Nope,” you immediately protested. “The Director is sending out another group.”

“Who?” Alex asked, a little too casually. 

“Don't know yet,” you said, only a little snappy. “You'll find out when I do.” 

For a moment, strained silence settled between the three of you, even as you turned towards the store rooms. Despite food being the opposite direction, Frank and Alex stayed with you. 

“Didn't mean it like that,” Alex murmured, pressing closer to your side. 

“I know.” You deflated, just a little. “It's just not a good time for me to slack off. Go eat, rest. You deserve it.” 

You didn't look at the two as you pulled open the door to the office. The door closed quietly behind you. 

“What do you need this time?” The question was brusque but not rude, the man in charge of the store rooms glancing at you. 

“Supplies for three, this time.” You clasped your notepad in both hands, rocking slowly from heel to toe and back. “Standard set for each.” 

He eyed you for a moment before nodding, jotting that down. “They'll be ready tomorrow morning,” he grunted at you. 

You nodded acknowledgement, but didn't leave. Instead you slipped further into the store rooms, taking a quick look for yourself. You were one of the few people allowed to roam like this, something you didn't take advantage of often. 

But, well… despite your bluster and teasing with Alex and Frank, you had missed them. You missed them every time they were gone. 

Not that you'd ever admit that. They didn't need to know. 

So you found a couple things for them. Little things. Things they'd mentioned in passing. A new comb for Alex. The soap that Frank favored. A small bag of the hard candies Alex liked but never admitted he craved. 

Just little comforts, little things, to make them feel welcomed back. They never asked. And you never admitted to bringing them. 

It was a little secret. One of many you carried on your shoulders. 

It was no work at all to deposit the bundle at the rooms they shared and be on your way. 

You still had more work to do.

[leavemealoneplsandthx]

Okay everyone in the cod fandom thirsting over mw characters, it’s time to introduce u mfs to the black ops world cuz honestly I’m tired of the lack of appreciation and fanfics (mostly fanfics) these people get.

Lemme introduce you to some of the main baes

This mf right here is a grade a ASSHOLE but it’s why we love him. Honestly if you love effed up relationships and angst you should read some of the bell x adler fics going on. Bell is YOU. It’s the customisable character in Cold War who Russell Adler brainwashed and it’s a whole thing and it’s toxic af to pair them but I fuggin loveeee itttt (second pic posted by @adlerboi)

Alex Mason <3333 my wifey for lifey

He was brainwashed by the Soviet’s and he’s our fave lil mentally scarred old man. Seriously tho it’s criminal the lack of love this guy gets he is so handsome

Ahhh mr frank Woods. Asshole but not in the same way Russell adler is. He’s the kinda guy who would act annoyed when you ask him to hold your drink but would protect that mf with his LIFE. Would treat you right but it’s a whole ‘dick to everyone else but sweet as pie to you’ kinda vibe yk?

Miss Helen Park. Honestly we should hate her. She manipulated and brainwashed us alongside adler but would I kiss her on the lips? Maybe possibly yes. Nuff said

The CRIMINALLY underrated navy seals commander david mason. Yes he’s alex masons son yes we keep it in the family here. He has some mental scars like his father but honestly who doesn’t?! Handsome as fuck, and so kind and respectful <3 I luv him

So please guys I beg you!! Play black ops 1, 2 and Cold War so we can get some love for these guys!!

If you like the sound of it please read this fic about adler x bell omg my heart

[animefreak1145]

Church Bells(Adler x Bell!Reader x Woods)

Previous Intel

Eighth Intel | Before

Description:

The world ended for Bell after Cuba.

The whole world followed soon after.

Zombies AU | Drabble Format

Warnings/Tags: Mature Rating, Graphic Violence, Dark Themes, Trauma, Body Horror, Gore, Major Character Death, Brainwashing, Post!Cuba, Pre!Solovetsky, No Solovetsky, Female Bell, Older Man/Younger Woman, Toxic Relationship, Obsession, Menticide

Words: 4k (What's a drabble again?)

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

 ■ ▞ ■ ▚ ■  “Bell” ■ ▞ ■ ▚ ■ 

Day After Ukraine Mission

16:07 | February 28th, 1981

CIA SAFEHOUSE E9, “DIE LANDEBAHN” 

“You do that a lot.”

You start from what you were staring at, the codes that are so tricky and you feel so close. The intel from what you have in your hands adding a piece to the puzzle that you’re enamored with—the complexities satisfying a carnal part of you that you can’t name. Your head turns to find Lazar’s curious yet amused smile, close to the television they used sometimes for the news not at your usual spot at the too small desk with the too large computer; at the center table instead is where you chose to haunt. 

“What?” you reply dumbly, too out of your element to say a more snarky reply. The transition from focused on the task to this interruption from the man that is more of an Eema than an Abba due to how hearty he looks and feels and making sure everyone felt the same by also stuffing their face. 

“That.” You were met with Lazar’s finger in your face. You resisted the urge to stare cross eyed and instead gave him a more inquisitive look, eyes searching. Which only humored him more, releasing a chuckle. “You have quite an intimidating stare.”

You push the hand away, scoffing,

“What? At my work? Isn’t that like everyone else?”

Lazar hummed, his eyes glittering at a joke you can’t understand.

“No. You have that type of stare that will freeze lesser men. Or get slapped by someone who thinks you’re looking for a fight. Or get you put into an asylum. Only, when you decode, you have an insane smile on your face. It’d be creepy if we didn’t know you.”

“Uh huh.” You dismissed, eyes glancing at the medical office. “You should work better on your compliments if you want Park to have a drink with you.”

If Park wasn’t in the medical office room along with Adler, you’re sure Lazar would throw his old cup noodle at you. Alas, he only gave you a dry “Ha. Ha.” with a neutral expression but still didn’t leave. He wants an answer. 

You turn to him fully, elbows leaning back against the desk, petulant.

“I doubt I smile like how you describe…” Lazar snorted while you frowned at him, before shifting your gaze back to your papers. “I don’t know. I just…love puzzles. They’re fun to solve.”

“Is that what makes you stare so intently?” Lazar leaned against the television, the stand slightly creaking at the movement, his intrigue seeming sincere. Another question hidden, two subjects being asked for one answer. A wall. “The thrill?”

Is that what love is to you?

You tapped at the papers, biting your lip in thought. 

“Maybe a part…I just have this need to figure things out. To open it up—to find the numbers, the letters, the riddles. In an order that is random but it’s not. It’s just a trick. A shadow on the wall. A reason for each piece. Each hint. Every piece of the puzzle has its purpose. It’s reason for being.” You didn’t notice when you started smiling, the topic consuming you like books and pictures do. But you just kept going as you grabbed your pen and fiddled with it, miming writing numbers or letters. “Like Sims with mechanics, I think. Or you with bomb wiring. You find the hardy wires or broken pieces—and I untangle it all. I even love how difficult it could be if I find a cipher intellectual. It’s fun.”

“Sounds maddening,” Lazar replied simply, brow raising. “And painful. Maybe even obsessive.”

You shrug, staring deeply at your own pen, tone far away. As if you were speaking about another topic than this. Something other. Like a secret.

“That’s love, isn’t it? Pain and obsession?”

“Your books tell you that? Or you come to that conclusion yourself?” You pressed your lips, silent. Only glancing at Lazar(are you easy to read?) who only smiled gently before switching gears and letting out a booming laugh. “With that description of love—you very much implied Adler is in love with our friendly neighborhood Perseus.”

Your jaw dropped, a gasp being released as you sat up rigid in your chair. A defense for Adler and a denial ready only for a startling guffaw to join in.

“What the shit are you talking about, Lazar?” Woods comes from his previous spot practicing with the boxing bag, Mason side by side with his own amused gaze as they come close to the center table. Woods snorted as he leaned back against the table near you instead of taking a proper seat. “Can you imagine our own Robert Redford switching spit with a commie? Ha!”

“Is that what you’re doing?” Mason quips to his friend with a nudge while Woods expression quickly changed to offended with no heat as he pushes Mason back with a disbelieving snort. “What? Sorry I’m airing out your fantasies.”

It was strange watching them. The easy back and forth quips and teases. Lazar felt like a warm hearth and home cooked meals compared to Mason’s steady kindness of a worn animal despite its past and Woods…

You briefly think of the night prior, how charged he felt out in the field. Not eager for it yet…willing to take everything and anything out his way. But his friendly taunts and words to you too. The arcade. The room where you got the intel and the knowledge he had of you, knowing you would’ve loved to play around more with the tech and computers there if the both of you had time and not world ending doom.

You weren’t impressed by his skills. Skills are to be expected in this line of work. People can call you cocky all they want.

But how personable he is? That was different.

It was unexpected.

(Why did it feel like he’s more close to you than Sims right now? Why has everyone been so disconnected from you? Even—blue fire for eyes hidden by the shaded wall, wheat dancing in the wind, artful cracks across a canvas—)

A hand waved in front of your face, your eyes broken from its lost look as you blinked back to the present.

“Hello? Earth to Bell?” Woods was still next to you and you couldn’t help but notice that Mason moved away with Lazar to where Lazar’s station is. Still talking with friendly smiles and easy atmosphere. You blinked again before turning towards Woods, who looked at you with a mix of amusement and concern. “What happened there? Did you even listen to a word I said?”

You didn’t. You’ve been doing this a lot. Getting lost in your head. Your brain foggy and mind distant. Not as quick as you usually are. You thankfully haven’t had this happen in the field. You hope it stays that way.

Instead of giving a straight answer, your lips only rose in a dry smile.

“Sorry, was thinking just how you got the guts to punch Hudson of all people.”

Woods huffed, crossing his arms and leaning back, brushing your shoulders as he did. 

“Doesn’t take guts to punch a prick.”

“No,” your smile turns up a tad, more mischief. “Takes some balls instead. Can’t have balls without a prick nearby or there’ll be trouble.”

Woods made a choked sound, as he stared at you dumbly before slapping the table and releasing a loud boom of a laugh. You wonder how he does that. So loud. So free. 

“You got more spunk than I thought, Bell. Guess you need it to even get the idea to escape in a Ruskie tank.”

You huff out your nose, but your chest still lightened at the praise. Your smile coming easy now and tension completely fallen away. You hid it though as you turned back to your work, picking up a stray picture of the Ukraine base you took.

“Did it for you. I figured you would want to run some commie’s over.”

“Oh, I’ve dreamed of it. I would say top five of my favorite wet dreams.”

You couldn’t help it. You snorted, it bursted through your chest and it didn’t stop, only turned to a laugh. You put a hand over your mouth to try to contain it but Woods satisfied expression only made you laugh more.

“Why—why did you say that?!” You try to collect yourself but you couldn’t. Not when Woods waggled his brows as if in answer. “Pfft—should I even ask what’s top one?”

Woods shrugged. 

“No can do. Gotta protect your innocence somewhere. My mind is a crazy place. Don’t wanna scare you off.” You snort again, shaking your head at him and tried to get back to work. Woods didn’t move as you stared around at the different pictures you took with Intel. “Say, where’s the random pics you took of me?”

“Don’t worry, Woods. I didn’t take out a camera with you over the mannequin—“ You stopped when he shook your shoulder, a warning gaze that only made you bite back another smile and only glare at him with no heat as you pushed his hand off. “Calm down,” you say quietly. “I haven’t said anything. Scout’s Honor.” You raise a hand as if to show.

Woods rose a brow dubiously.

“Were you even a Girl Scout?”

“Doubtful. Looks like you just gotta hope I don’t open my mouth about it.”

Woods grunted. Yet still didn’t leave. 

“Do you normally take pics of everything and everyone? Even on missions like that?”

“I like it. I like taking pictures. Did I make you uncomfortable?” You did take a few of him before you took a picture of the base. It was nice lightning and he looked good. “I can give you the pictures I took to you, if you want. They were good shots.”

“I suppose I can add it to my scrapbook.” Woods joked before shaking his head, his eyes turning more curious as the conversation went on. Gaze more assessing as he stared down at you. “Nah, it’s fine.  Don’t mind you keeping them. After I take a look of course. I guess I’m just asking…what’s the obsession with the camera? Film is precious right?” At your shoulder tensing, you starting to get defensive, he quickly changed tactics as he rose a hand in calming manner. “I ain’t judging. Just curious. Couldn’t help but overhear Park talk to you that Adler doesn’t like wasting resources. Or some shit like that. I don’t get the big deal. But it must be if you keep doing it despite them having a stick up their asses about some film of all things.”

Your brows pinched together, gazing intently at Woods eyes. You don’t see a reprimand. Or exasperation. Or even amused exasperation, like you were just being cute while doing something disobedient—like a pet jumping at their owners even as they tell them no with an amused smile. (“Always the one who never listens. Huh, Bell? Didn’t I tell you before about the pictures?”) He’s being sincere in his interest. It was his expression that did it.

You looked away, eyes taking in the safehouse around them. 

“Ever feel like a ghost in your own body?”

“Can’t say that I have,” Woods answered roughly. You nodded next to you, him taking that as permission that he can finally properly sit next to you. You didn’t mind thighs or shoulders brushing. Comrades now. Both of you throwing your lives on the line. Getting shot  by a common enemy brings people together no other way can. 

“Well, the coma did a number on me. I don’t remember much. I can’t put a story to scars on my body. My life, my memories—it’s only Vietnam.”

“Fucked up thing to remember. That whole war was a shit show,” Woods provided. “You must’ve been young.”

You only hummed, distant. Eyes straying in the direction of the red room. Your skin prickled in goosebumps, ears falsely hearing shots and napalm strikes. You shuddered but hid it by clenching your fists on the table, eyes on your jumbled words of your work. 

“Yeah…Hue City was just the start of everything going downhill…But I guess my point is…” You don’t know how to properly say it, you can’t find the English word for this. Esurient for memories erased. The feeling of not quite fitting in everyone’s circle, even with Sims. Monachopsis. (Are you even here at all? It’s like they stare past you.) “Life is memories. I don’t have any. What’s a person if not memories? So…I don’t feel…like it. A person.” You shrug casually, mutely. Hand wandering to a picture, thumbing it. “Ghosts don’t seem to remember stuff besides a deep motive. That’s what others believe. But…with pictures…pictures are for memories. If I take pictures, I’m actually taking memories. And if take enough memories…” You struggled once more how to explain but Woods was sharp despite his looks.

“You’ll be a person again.” Your eyes darted towards him, giving him a minute nod as he seemed to consider your words with a tilt of his head. The silence between the two of you wasn’t stifling, just…there.

You felt like something was released from you. 

Unlocked. 

The key was just for someone to ask. 

“Hey, listen—“ you turned at the soft touch to your shoulder, and you noticed Woods looked uncomfortable about the atmosphere you created. Not used to sharing open emotions like this no doubt but still had what appeared like care in his eyes. “You should really talk to Mason, he—“

Your ears honed in on the medical office opening, your eyes quick to follow as your head swiveled. Everything turned silent as your eyes settled upon the body you can recognize even in the thickest of jungles or deepest of wet rice paddies. And as your eyes settled, your thoughts of ruminating toska and the sense of lacuna dissipated.

You were so busy trying to catch what Adler was saying to Park beside him, you temporarily forgotten Woods next to you. You could hear him talking. Some form of advise. 

You turned back to your work and absently nodded with a quick smile to match at him. Your lips moved to say thanks. You think you did.

You didn’t see Woods throw another look of concern towards you, of suspicion. Turning something over his head.

You forced your ears to stretch, as if with force you can have super hearing. With brute force you can have the arcane man with valleys upon his visage, with liquid nectar that bounces with voluminous silk, voice of gravel that leads to the path of victory and makes your mind hazy. 

You still had a pen in your hand, tight as you looked down with a frown at the papers. Your leg beginning to bounce under the table. Impatient. Restless. Athirst.

“I’m going out for a smoke,” Adler called out(Beckoned, Signaled, Enticed—trinket waved like a treat. Your nepenthe.) clearly, more loudly than how he was talking to Park. You didn’t turn your head as he walked out the door near the garage door, too obvious. But you did sneak a look when he exited, stealing gaze right when you saw his back before the door closed.

Except it didn’t. A small rock held it ajar.

A secret.

“What the hell?” Woods was bewildered, staring after Adler while you tried to hide the fact. Waiting a beat. Or two. Your leg bounced under the table, growing more insistent. “Doesn’t he get his fix in here anyways?”

You heard Lazar answer for Woods, something about Adler needing a change of scenery sometimes. You can see in your peripheral his glance. You ignored it as you stood up to head back to your computer desk.

“I’m taking a break too,” you say, quickly picking a book from your pile in the corner after a brief deliberation.

“Uh…” Woods face would’ve made you laugh from how scrunched up it was as he stared as you quickly fixed your work papers back in the center table, book under your arm. “Isn’t that what you were doing? Like fuckin’ a second ago?”

“No,” you answer, organizing the pictures and quickly scanning them before you do so. “Lazar interrupted me from my work. And then you did. It was an interruption. Not a break.”

“You sure turned prickly,” Woods said in answer.

You pause, seeing Woods was somehow offended. He just doesn’t get it.

“Says the cactus,” you quip with a quick smile, twitching up more at Woods huff out his nose. “I…like taking my break the same time as Adler,” You decide to answer the question in his eyes. He did listen. “It’s what we’ve always done. I read. He smokes. And right back to work we go. It works better this way.”

You didn’t wait for his reply. 

You didn’t even bother to see if he was about to.

You have the book in your hand, and you have your tether(Your eyes looks for the sun tanned gold even though it should blind you, but you never cared for your wellbeing. Protect the quiet monster like a demon enraged. Demon for monster. Monster for demon. The coin. You keep it in your pocket, whelve it—the whispered confession—the gravity of your ustulation and agastopia can burn through your pockets and skin all it wish. You keep it in. Like the pain killers Adler gave you earlier for your migraine after their meeting with Hudson about Ukraine.) outside. 

You open the door and without looking, you went to the left side of the door that’s by some unused pallets. Sitting on them and opening your book to your last point, as if you were ignoring him. (How could you?) He was smoking as he leaned against the wall beside the door. You always left of it, him always right. (▞ He’s always right. ▞ He ▙ never ▞ lies. Not to ▖ ▞ ▗ you.)

It was silent. Only the turning of your pages as you focused on reading, and the occasional exhale you hear now and then if you strain your ears. A puff of grey smoke above the two as your audience.

You don’t mind the quiet moments. You take what you can get. The two of you have too long a history for you to be uncomfortable at silence. Or needing something more. 

You don’t.

(The secret coin in your pocket burns, and you try not to flinch nor whine. You must stay sated, ▚ демон ▚ ▛ ▖ ▖.) 

A shot went through the front of your skull, your hand darting up as it seemed to go to the back of your head, a hiss to your lips. You almost dropping the book with your other hand.

“Another migraine?” He was close. You opened your eyes you didn’t realize were closed as you were hunched over your knees, spotting his shoes. 

You only offered a small nod before closing your eyes again, jaw tight. 

“I don’t…” you stop, speaking more quietly to help with the pounding. The sunlight was too much already, you don’t want to add your own voice to your own misery. “Dont know why it’s getting worse. Is this…normal?”

“It can be.” He replied simply, to the point. “Here. Take this.”

You blinked your eyes open and lifted your head to spot he took out some more medicine from his leather jacket, holding it out to the pills in the palm of his hand. At the sight, your stomach curdled.

You felt yourself pale and you don’t know why.

Adler must’ve noticed your hesitation. Tilting his head and lips twitching to a frown around his cigarette. He lifted a hand, taking one deep inhale, embers subtly lighting his face before he threw it off. He exhaled out his nose, smoke flowing smoothly. 

Your throat tightened as you stared. But not in want. It felt more heavy. More heady. Your mouth open more in a wince than for anything else.

“You know this will help. We gotta make sure you’re in shape for this, Bell.” You bowed your head in shame, book now beside you on the pallet as you clenched your hands on your knees. You heard him sigh. And now you see him, closer—he’s kneeling in front of you. One knee down, the other having his elbow leaning against it. “I don’t have to explain to you the stakes currently. You know how serious this is since you and Woods found out Hudson’s dirty little secret about Perseus and the nuke he has. You know it. We can’t fuck around anymore.”

You hunched your shoulders, as if that can hide you from your guilt. Because you spotted his glance towards your book. You can guess what else he’s hinting.

Stay a ghost or try to be a person? A part of your mind asked. You tried to not let your heart crack of no more pictures.

“I know…” you say, eyes down and to the side. Yet… “It’s just…it wasn’t that long ago you gave me them…I don’t—I mean—“ Your tongue is tied again. Like always near him. You didn’t mean to sound accusing or hinting. Adler is trained for medical issues on the field. You tried to take a breath. “I just don’t want to be a burden with all this. Slow you guys down. I don’t want to disappoint you.” You did a tight squeeze of your knees, practically white knuckled grip, a mix of uncaring at your honesty and hating yourself for it.

You felt your chin be lifted up, Adler’s forefinger doing so you can be face to face. He assessed you seriously.

“You won’t, kid.” He’s so close. Breath to your face. So calm too. Your anchor. He believes in you. If you or him leaned just an inch or two forward—he took his hand away from your face before bringing his palm with the medicine again. “Taking these will help. I’ll watch over you. Just like the good ‘ol days.” He tilted his head, a quirk of the mouth up. And you think he couldn’t be more charming. 

You ignored your past nerves, quickly taking the medicine in a dry swallow, gloved hands brushing his bare ones(Damn it all.). 

He nodded at you, the barest thing of it before he stood up. Glancing at your book again with pressed lips before facing you once more with a raised brow.

“Oscar Wilde? Here I thought you only read Dostoevsky and Nietzsche.”

“It’s a collection of some of his poem’s. And a break from existentialism and nihilism is good for the mind. But you’ve always been more of a stoic,” you shoot him a teasing look, an attempt to get your bravado back. “Our very own Prince Andrei Bolkonsky.”

Adler did a small huff out his nose.

“Just don’t start bowing.” Adler did a quick motion of his to the door. “Come on. Back to work, Tolstoy.”

You nod, marking where you were in the book before following Adler back in, your hold on the book tight. Who knows when you’ll get to read again.

Stay a ghost or try to be a person? 

(It doesn’t matter. Adler made the choice for you.)

You tell yourself it’s fine. You instead let yourself be a book for Adler—willing to be read. You imagine how he would do it, a book of you in his hands. Read through your pages, open up your spine and let his fingers run through your creases—how easily can he finish you? How many times could he, until you’re worn and wrinkled from use? Will his touch trace the abuse of a loved book?

The place where he put his finger on your chin burns.

…

The page you marked on the page reads: “Never regret thy fall, O Icarus of the fearless flight, For the greatest tragedy of them all, Is never to feel the burning light."

▞ ▚

▛

▞ ▚

A/N: Bell is a SIMP. Poor girl. The best way to tell if Bell is in love, is if she suddenly starts thinking in poetry. Bell stares intensely you say? Bell loves intensely too.

I’m also confusing myself with Dark!Adler and Soft!Adler. But again he’s both so 🤷‍♀️ Man so toxic and a red flag, he’s even confusing the author.

Also, I’m planning to write really quickly to finish up For Whom the Bell Tolls. Didn’t want to but I really want to go ahead and write for BO6. Then again, that fic was NEVER supposed to be that long or longer. Sorry if I speed through some stuff, I just want to finish it and move on then torture you all further.

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

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

[obsessedwrhys]

I cant find any fics with the plots i want so im gonna write them myself. the agony.

[mockerycrow]

Multiple Characters Masterlist (MWI-MWIII)

cod masterlist - crow’s mega masterlist

☁️ = fluff || ⛈️ = angst || 🔥 = sexual content

GN!Reader With An Accent ☁️

Fem!Reader With Shaved Legs ☁️

Body Switch Gas With Fem!Reader ☁️

Fem!Reader Catches 141 + König Looking At Her Ass ☁️🔥

141 + König’s Reaction To Platonic!Fem!Reader’s Ass Being Slapped By Rando ☁️

141 + König Reactions To GN!Reader Flinching ☁️⛈️

Physical Injury Prompt ☁️⛈️

Ain’t That A Kick In The Head? (Platonic!Fem!Reader)☁️

Ghost, Soap + König Comfort Asthmatic!GN!Reader ⛈️☁️

141 Fear Headcanons ☁️

MBTI Types

flufftober 2023 ☁️

400 Follower Celebration Masterlist

141 Submissive Headcanons 🔥

Pack Cuddles (Hybrid!141 x GN!Human!Reader) ☁️

4k Follower Celebration Masterlist

[woods-and-adlers-left-hand-dude]

Cold war incorrect quote/scenarios

Adler as he turns around to shoot bell:it was never personal

Bell throwing a rock at Adler and catching him off guard:the fuck you mean 'it was never personal'

Adler shocked:what?

Bell: motherfucker you Stoll me from my homeland and turned me into an American,made me believe we had some deep friendship and made me apart of your team so you're not getting rid of me now.

Adler while waving his gun:but I was meant to kill you?

Bell throwing another rock at Adler:yeah no shit Sherlock I know that but I'm going to give you three options, number one you kill me and I haunt you for the rest of your life number 2 I take you back to Russia and I get to play doctor and you play brain washed soldier or option three you take me back with you to America and you get me a McDonald's and let me watch the starwars.

Adler:ow will you stop that and why do you want a McDonald's and to watch starwars?

Bell: because Frank was telling me about them and I want to experience them anyway we can call this part of your apology for fucking me up.

Adler sighing:you know what fine come on them.

Bell fist pumping:YES we're taking Frank and Alex with us and your paying by the way.

Adler muttering:woods and mason are never going to let me live this down.

(on a completely unrelated note I lost a game of zombies today because I laughed so hard when my mate asked me if narcolepsy was when you want to shag a corpse)

@annomimi I know it's not a fic but it's something

[quizzyisdone]

The Colour Red (Pt. II) | Jason Hudson x Fem! Bell x Russell Adler

Chapter Title: Bad Moon Risin' Word Count: 3.7k Pairing: Jason Hudson x Fem! Bell x Russell Adler Masterlist Synopsis: Bell and Adler arrive at the safehouse in West Germany, where she meets the rest of her team, save Alex Mason and Frank Woods. The team gets down to business -- they've all gathered to take down the elusive Perseus, the infamous soviet agent whom they know next to nothing about, save for that he's planning something big. That much, Adler is sure of. To figure out their next move, Adler and Park use a memory recollection technique to help Bell recall Operation: Fracture Jaw, yet another memory Bell had lost due to her head injury two months prior. A/N: Hey! I'm back, totally not inspired by the new Black Ops VI trailer at all. Like, at all. Anyways, here is the next installment of my personal favorite series, The Colour Red. Keep in mind this is a slowburn fic, and sorry about the lack of Hudson in this chapter. I hope you enjoy! Warnings: Strong language, mentions of weapons, canon-typical violence.

**Title inspired by "Bad Moon Risin'" by Credence Clearwater Revival

[Part One] [Part Two]

You don't need to read part one to understand this chapter, btw

The car halted to a full stop as Bell fluttered open her eyes, Adler lightly shook her shoulder, stirring her even further awake. 

“Bell. Welcome to West Berlin” He gave a half-hearted smile, a cigarette between his teeth. Bell groggily roused herself from the passenger seat, watching Adler closely as he held the lighter close to his face, letting a puff of smoke blow back in the wind behind him.

The light from the flame illuminated the scarred half of his face, and she could see that where he had shaven was uneven and choppy, a stark contrast to the close shave on the “normal” side of his face. Still rather handsome, barring his scars. He had a classically attractive, well structured face, resembling that of movie stars such as Robert Redford. Blonde hair, blue eyes and very charismatic. He must have many women wrapped around his finger back in the states, Bell presumed.

Adler took one last glance at her, then began to approach a woman that was leaning against an old, worn garage door. Bell took in her features as well. 

She had an uncanny familiarity about her. She had silky, jet black hair cut and styled into a practical bob, unusually tall but athletically built, and she sported pragmatic yet stylish clothing. She had delicate, feminine features but still yet appeared to be able to keep up with the likes of a black ops legend such as Adler -- a strange dichotomy between graceful and deadly. 

Adler had told Bell that she was a legend in her own rite at MI6, that’s why he had requested her for the op. Apparently, it was true that while she was known for her lethality and pretty appearance, it was her brain, not the obvious honey trap she is, that he was interested in. Adler had joked several times that she was a walking cliche, a classic femme fatale type.  

The more Bell seemed to take in her appearance, her shattered memory would begin to piece itself together again. Her face. A red door. A jungle. Sterile white lights. Televisions. War footage. Then nothing. Whenever she was on the precipice of piecing her memory back together, it seemed it would shatter again.

Adler glanced back. “You comin’?” He said with a slight frown. Sheepishly, Bell nodded, not having realized she spent too much time what would appear to the others as staring into space for no apparent reason. 

Bell hurried to catch up with him, trailing behind Adler closely even as the oddly familiar, yet bitter scent of tobacco filled her nose. That closeness, she wondered, it may be obvious to Adler, which she could live with, but would it escape the notice of the others? She hated that, her clinginess to him, but it made some sense (at least that is how Bell would justify it) -- Adler was the only kind face she could remember after her fall. 

Although she didn’t want to admit it, she preferred to be close to him at all times. His presence was comforting, the anxiety she felt would fade away in an instant -- she could almost forget that she couldn’t remember. One might mistake the connection for romantic, as Hudson, their handler had pointed out rather astutely (and irritably) before they departed from Langley today.

 Bell couldn't help but notice the parallels either, he very much played the part of her knight in shining armor, saving her from sure death, never having left her side while she healed, gently guiding her as she navigated regaining her lost memory. Although she must admit she has lingered on such an idea, Bell recognized Adler very likely felt no such way towards her.

She knew his feelings towards her. They had been through hell and back together, saved each other's ass, and understood each other like no one else. Bell knew where she stood, something more than a friend but less than a lover. It was a strange, blurry purgatory between platonic affection and passionate love.  

He had helped her remember the basics. With his guidance, she now knew that her name was Anabelle Meyers, hence the name “Bell”. She was a cryptographer and a linguist working for MI6, she had spent the better part of a year in Vietnam with Adler when she began working a joint operation with MACV-SOG and MI6 and they’ve been friends for 13 years. Two months ago, on a solo operation, she had taken a long, hard fall, hitting her head. Bell would've died if Adler hadn't been there by random chance. Bell could recall that in perfect detail now, although it was fuzzy just a week ago. 

“Park.” He acknowledged and nodded towards her. He glanced back, noticing how Bell followed so closely behind him and smiled to himself. It gave him some kind of pride that she leaned on him as a protector of sorts. 

“She looks familiar.” Bell whispered as soon as they were out of earshot of Park. 

Adler stopped in his tracks for naught but a second, “Maybe you saw her at the Century House in London back in the day.” She knew that it wasn’t likely they had never been acquainted, nor ever having even met each other, but Bell let the conversation go -- chalking it up as some kind of weird deja vu nonsense. 

When the door opened it revealed a large warehouse-like room with a table set in the middle, a bulletin board with the face of man that was supposedly Perseus and a giant red circle around it (Bell quickly noticed how the picture gave her an uneasy pit in her stomach and her head would begin to hurt), an array of weapons upon a wall guarded by chain link fence with a lock, and all the other stereotypical features befitting a CIA safehouse. 

“We’ll talk later, okay?” Adler whispered to Bell as he approached the gathering of folks around the table set in the middle. “Bell, this is Helen Park, Lawrence Sims who you’ve already met, and Eleazar Azoulay. We just call him Lazar, though.” He introduced her to them.

Lazar gave her a friendly but quiet hello, Park nodded, and Sims simply stared daggers at her before turning his gaze back to Adler. “Mason and Woods are finishing some business in Kiev, but you’ll meet them later.”

“Do I know them?” Bell asked meekly and Park cocked an eyebrow, smirking to herself as she glanced at Adler, silently beckoning him to answer the question. 

“Ah,” Adler chuckled lightly. “No, you know them by reputation, but not, ah, personally.” Bell nodded in response before letting him continue. He turned back to the rest of the group, while Bell stood snug behind Adler. “There’s been a surge in Russian chatter for the past 48 hours. The CIA and DoD are tapping their inside sources for anything substantial, but no leads of Perseus so far.”

“MI6 has come up empty handed as well.” Park added.

“We’ll have to start somewhere, so we’re going back to 1968, Vietnam.” He strode towards to the bulletin board, pointing at a polaroid picture of Sims and Adler sitting side by side, labeled Operation Fracture Jaw. “One our closest encounters with Perseus. Bell, you don’t remember this, of course, but you were there.”

“Fracture Jaw, what a steaming pile of shit that one was.” Sims grumbled.

“Also the first time where Perseus pinged our radar. While you were on the ground, you dug up some intel on him.” Adler continued, he held a folder with a dried, bloody handprint and Cyrillic printed on the front. “We’re gonna help jog your memory so you can crack this. At the time, the CIA’s best analysts couldn’t decode that thing, but we’re gonna have you take a shot.” Adler placed his hand on Bell’s shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. 

“Yeah.” Sims scoffed. “If even Weaver couldn’t crack it, what makes you think she can?” He had said it with such venom, such doubt that it made Bell wonder what had happened between them. She made a mental note to ask Adler about it later, but for the moment, she hardened her gaze, attempting to make herself seem less vulnerable than she truly felt.

“It can’t hurt, Sims. She’s always been one of the best, you know that.” Adler said pointedly. “Anyways, we’re gonna use a hypnosis technique. While our little Bell will be in a hypnotic state, I will be reading the operation report, retelling every detail of what happened when she and you were boots on ground. Theoretically, she should remember it all and be able to decode it.”

Sims shrugged, Park and Lazar nodded in affirmation. The group disbanded wordlessly, Park headed over to the computer by the gun rack with Lazar trailing behind and Sims went over the gate that locked the chain link fence. That had left her and Adler, as he lit another cigarette (his fourth in the last couple of hours, Bell noted) and sat at a chair in front of the evidence board. 

He stared quietly at it, his mouth was set in a frown but his sunglasses had made it impossible to even begin to guess what the man was thinking. 

“Adler,” Bell spoke quietly, tapping his shoulder. Adler smiled ever so slightly, the small gesture was a welcome change from Sims’ behavior just a moment ago. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Anything, kid.” He said coolly, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“That memory exercise we’re doing, we can use it to recover some of my memories?” A glint of hope appeared in her chestnut eyes.

He chuckled, low and husky. “Ain’t that exactly what we’re doing, Bell?” She rolled her eyes but gave a small laugh in return.

“You know what I mean. Like, the memories that aren’t from war or anything like that. Something a bit happier.”

Adler grimaced then sighed, ashing his cigarette and sitting up straighter, and the small smile that appeared on Bell’s face vanished, like she knew he was about to tell her some unfortunate news. The pair sat in an awkward silence as Adler thought about how to break it to her.

“We can’t really.” He reached for her hand, giving it a light squeeze before pulling away. “The memory exercise only works when you have either one or two things; a written documentation of a memory that we can actually get our hands on or someone who was also there that can recall the memory and tell it to ya.”

“Oh.”

“When we found you, you didn’t have a journal or anything on you. Not even dog tags. No one would have been able to identify you if I wasn’t there.” He pursed his lips, offering a small apologetic smile. “Sorry, Bell.”

“Well I mean, we’ve been friends for a while. What do you know about me? Anything about my family?” The hopefulness had returned to Bell’s eyes, and Adler could feel a lump forming in his throat as he thought deeply. 

“Uh, well,” He cleared his throat. “You never spoke anything of them really, it seemed a sore spot for ya so none of us ever really pried.” She glanced down, looking utterly defeated as she sniffled. Adler tried to lighten the conversation at least a little. This wasn’t the place nor the time. “I know that you used to have a nicotine addiction worse than me.”

Bell chuckled. “I still crave them all the time.”

Adler chuckled, clapping her shoulder. “Tell you what,” He said, reaching into his pocket to grab his cigarettes. He handed one to her and she placed it between her teeth, giggling a little as he lit it for her. “I think you deserve at least one. Old habits die hard.” She took a drag, blowing a playful ‘O’ into his face. “Atta girl. I’ll get you a pack tomorrow.”

“I knew I liked you for some reason.” She smiled, the first genuine smile Adler had ever seen out of the woman.

“I’ve always been an enabler of your bad habits.” 

__

January 26th, 1968

Camp Haskins, South Vietnam

0700

“Bell, time to wake up” A raspy voice had startled her awake, the boot of the offender shaking the fold up chair she had practically passed out in. She groggily opened her eyes to find her new teammate with a shit-eating grin on his face. “It’s crank time.” 

“I’m up” She grumbled, rubbing her eyes. He swiped the chair back to the ground where Bell had been leaning, causing the legs to harshly meet the floor and she nearly fell forward. The man chuckled lightly.

“C’mon sleeping beauty, you knew we were doing this.”

“Yeah, I know.” The exhaustion was still evident in her voice as she rose from the chair, grabbing the M16 she had left leaning against the wall. She followed behind him, taking in the scene around her as she left the tent, the morning sun already beating against her skin.

It hadn’t been her first choice, being assigned as an agent working boots on ground with MACV-SOG, and it certainly wasn’t her first choice to be placed in the middle of buttfuck nowhere Vietnam. Her work was typically confined to that of a desk in an office, in the comfort of air conditioning and without the threat of an enemy attack at a moment’s notice. However, given her limited but notable military work, her handler thought she would be wasted back home in the comfort of an office in London. 

Her handler was of course right, but she wished he wasn’t as the stench of gunsmoke, gasoline, and body odor filled her nose. She watched about a dozen shirtless, grimy men going about their business. Most had simply ignored her, but a few had leered at her as she passed by, perhaps bedazzled by the first clean and somewhat attractive thing they had probably seen with their own eyes in months, Bell cockily mused to herself. 

“Camp Haskins, what a sausage fest.” Bell said quietly, chuckling.

“I heard that.” Adler yelled back good naturedly, and Bell half walked, half jogged to catch up with him. “You should be thankful, this place is a fuckin’ oasis compared to the shitstorm out there. Those boys keep it that way.”

“Yeah, yeah ‘God bless our troops’ and all that shit they keep telling us.” She jabbed Adler’s arm and he laughed softly. 

“I know it’s not what you’re used to, but your handler could’ve done worse for you.” They approached the landing zone, her other new teammate, and Adler’s best friend, she had determined based on their interactions, sat on the ledge of a helicopter ready and waiting for them. 

“Finally found Bell?” He hollered out over the sound of the whirling blades of the craft, without looking up from the magazine he was reading. Lawrence Sims was his name, he had dark skin with large, almost doe-like black eyes to match. He wasn’t a looker, but he had a friendly, jovial feel about him. Adler approached him, snatched the magazine from his hand to take a lingering glance at the lewd picture within. 

“That shit’s gonna make you go blind, Sims.”  He threw the magazine back at Sims as Bell loaded herself in. 

“That’s why I want it all right up here.” He replied jokingly, pointing his finger to his temple and shooting a playful, friendly wink at Bell.

“You’re not helping Bell’s accusation that this place is a sausage fest.”

“I’d say she’s made an astute observation, then.” Sims clapped his hand on her shoulder. She returned their grin. However, as the pilots began to load in, the mood shifted dramatically with it, like someone had sucked all the humor out of the situation and brought them back to the real world. Adler took this as his cue. 

“We got a new assignment. FOB 4 Ripcord is holding a vital asset that Charlie wants real bad.” He shouted over the deafening sound. 

“What kinda asset we talking about?” Sims asked. 

“The kind you don't ask about. Ripcord has been taking a hell of a beating, so it's our job to secure the asset and get the fuck out.” Bell began to stiffen and her palms began to sweat inexplicably, which Adler seemed to take notice of. “Relax. We got fast fliers providing combat air support for this mission. It'll be a walk in the park.”

“I’m holding you to that.” She said, putting on her headset as Adler took his leave. He climbed in the helicopter just opposite of them, and with that, about half the armada began to lift off. The chatter rang loud through the headset.

“Badger-niner-one good to go.”

“Badger-niner-two clear to go.”

“Badger-niner-three rotors up.”

Sims shuffled a bit, pulling a cassette tape from his pocket. “You like music?” He asked. Bell nodded, a lump beginning to form in her throat. “Good because I was gonna play it anyways.” He inserted the tape into the helicopter’s radio. He bobbed his head to the beat, singing to himself. His voice sounded muffled, the chatter over the radio began to sound more distant and then eventually, nonexistent. The only sound she could truly make out was the lyrics to the song Sims had played.

I see the bad moon a-risin' I see trouble on the way I see earthquakes and lightnin' I see bad times today

She felt sick, nauseous, the sound of the music only worsening the deep pit that began to build in her stomach, she began to sweat, hyperventilate, her vision became blurry, all the colors merging with the blinding light of the rising sun until-

__

Present Day

“Shit.” An indiscernible voice cursed, and with that, she felt a sharp jab on some unidentifiable place on her body and all faded into darkness again.

__

January 12th, 1968

“You all sitting comfortably?” Adler’s voice quirked up over the radio.

“Why do I feel like you’re about to tell us some bad news?” Bell quipped, noting how her palms were no longer sweaty the way they were just a second ago, calm had overcome her senses once more as she glanced around her. No one seemed to notice her little episode. Good.

“Because you’re a smart girl, Bell. But the news isn't bad. In fact it could be very, very good. The asset at Ripcord is gonna have to wait a little while. We're breaking off from the armada. Taking a detour.” 

Sims raised his eyebrows at this new development. “And... that's good because?”

“A source tipped us off that there may be a heavy hitter from town, a Soviet operative known as Perseus.” 

Bell’s head began to hurt again, the pain teetering on intolerable but she attempted to ignore it for the moment. However, the pain seemed to get worse and worse the more she tried not to think about it, and once again, her vision became blurry and all colors became one again.

“First time Perseus pinged our radar…”

__

Present Day

Bell found herself back in bed, the overhead light shining directly into her eyes again with a pounding headache to boot. She tentatively lifted her head and rolled onto her side, confused as to how she even ended up here. One moment, she was smoking with Adler and the next she was here. 

“Oh God…” She groaned painfully, grabbing the water bottle that had been left on the table adjacent to her bed, gulping down nearly half the bottle in one go. 

After she had come to, she began to hear the muffled voices from outside the door, although most of what they were saying was unintelligible, she managed to make out some words and phrases.

“...too much…”

“...resistance…try again soon” 

“...need something to…won’t be happy…” 

Bell couldn’t make out anymore, and the pounding in her skull overpowered her curiosity and she laid back down. She closed her eyes, yearning to let sleep take over her body once more when the door opened, Park and Adler walked in, both staring at her.

Adler’s eyes were of course, unreadable through his signature sunglasses but his expression was set into that of frustration, while Park’s seemed more confused than anything, her brow furrowed as if she was working out some complicated problem in her head.

“How are you feeling, Bell?” Park asked clinically. 

“Like I got hit by a bus.” She whined, Park nodded in assent as she scribbled something in a notebook.

“That’s to be expected.” Park replied, not looking up from what she was writing. Adler cleared his throat as he sat at the foot of the bed, beckoning Park to put the pen down. “Forgive me, I’ve just been documenting the recovery of your memories.” She smiled. “I have a vested interest in your case, seeing as the methods we are using to help you remember are relatively new and-”

“Cut to the chase, Park.” Adler interrupted, and Park sighed in frustration at his impatience. 

“The exercise we attempted tonight wasn’t as successful as we had hoped.” Park explained, reaching into her pocket to hand Bell two blue-colored pills. “For your head, love. You had some kind of reaction at the mention of Perseus during recollection that disrupted the hypnotic state. Pitiful thing, really. Your subconscious must have fairly negative feelings regarding your time spent with Adler in Vietnam.”

“That makes two of us, Bell.” Adler commented, the distaste evident in his tone as he stared off. “Not my favorite time to remember either.”

“Well, I do believe recollection can still be therapeutic for Bell and is essential to the task at hand. Get some sleep Bell, we’ll pick up where we left off in the morning,”  Park gave a courteous smile and left the small, sorry excuse for a room, closing the door behind her. Silence hung in the air for a moment as Bell and Adler were left alone.

“I’m counting on you, Bell. Get some good sleep, need ya sharp for this.” Adler broke the silence, standing from where he sat and heading for the door as well. As he turned the handle, he looked back towards Bell. “Remember, we’ve got a job to do.”

As she fell back asleep, the lyrics for the rest of that song tauntingly played again and again in her head. 

Hope you got your things together Hope you are quite prepared to die Looks like we're in for nasty weather One eye is taken for an eye

Tags: @mayasnowforest @kult6 -- I know you guys asked to be tagged like two years ago, but here y'all are <3

[delta-06]

(Make this blow up, reblogs comments likes are all appreaciated!) I made this at 1 am and now that I am reading it again I dont know what the hell I was on ahaha

First time with Woods? Eh...I bet you two didn't even know how to approach it given the fact that you two live for your work.

It took a birthday gift from Mason (a joke gift to make the tiny bell ring in his best friends head) and a few words to tell Frank you two...in like 6 years of marriage didn't fuck even once

"Frank I believe that you should give it a shot, I mean come on, look at your husband! You didn't even take his V card in more that 6 years of marriage and I don't know how many of a relationship!"

"That is not a priority for us now you fuck face-!" he drank a little bit more of beer.

" And when will it be then Woody? You little friend there has not benn used even once! I think it needs more encouragement now to stand to attention!" Mason wheezed out as he began to laugh non stop

"Shut the fuck up you half whit moron" he half growled as he tossed away his beer can

"Don't worry, friends have eachother for a reson and I have your Virgin back my dear" he mocked as he got a small box wrapped with a pink bow and a light ping wrapping

"Come on, open it!" he smirked as he arched his eyebrows with mischief

"If it is one of your sick jokes you are going to end up in a wheelchair for how much I am going to make you run for your life" he snorted as he opened the package

Inside there were only three things, a bottle of cherry lube and two condoms

Woods looked at these blushing and didn't say anything, may that be from embarassement or anger. He took the bottle in his hands and then sighed.

"I guess you are right...now how the fuck am I going to ask my husband to do it?"

He mocked

"I can't go there and be like: hey! Do you want to fuck? You can be on top or not it's our first time after all!"

"That worked for me at least"

"Aint no shit way I am getting laid in this way"

A long silence fell.

"Mason..."

"Yeah?"

He didn't know if he shoulve laughed or cry "How does sex between to men work...?"

Again, silence fell.

[rascal-xo]

i swear i’m not ignoring anyone’s requests i’m getting to all of them i promise 😭

[bruhhhh-huhhhhh]

yooo is there any chance I can request parent headcanons for the safehouse crew (cod: bocw)??? been replaying the bo2 campaign and the Adler is Graves' father theory has a grip on me esp recently now that that mf is coming back

I imagine that Adler is a pretty distant parent, what with work in the CIA taking up most of his time and probably isn't able to see his kid much to begin with after the divorce, no doubt his ex wife has full custody of any of the children they had during that marriage. he's the kind of dad to buy his teenage kid expensive gifts to make up for the times he couldn't be there, usually related to something they were mildly interested in when they were like 7. And that thing is probably one of the only things he knows about them because they ranted about it to him when they were really young and naive. Russ is not as good as vocalizing his affection, but he's observant, and would zero in on any information and likes that his kid has when they express it... It's just that the usually don't with the distance between them. I think he does genuinely care about his child and still wants to show that they appreciate them, but just doesn't know how to properly connect with them on an emotional level, and usually doesn't even have the time. I don't think he'd treat his kid much differently based on their gender, he's still an emotionally-supressed mostly absentee father that his child would kind of just grow to resent as they get older. Adler is the 'he tried' dad. (I hc that Graves his kid is also the most likely to have a wild rebellious teens phase, and he'd kind of just let it happen so long as they aren't getting into any legal trouble because at that point their relationship would be so strained and he's just kinda apathetic about it. I think he's the type that would come home late to catch his kid smoking, and the only thing he'd do is ask why they started and if they know the consequences of it, then promptly asks for one and never brings it up again.)

Hudson, on the contrary, would be the perfect dad. Girl dad 100%, this man has a wife and two daughters (I think, might need to double check this one, but point still stands because I think he'd be good with girls). This man deserves a bo burnham 1985 edit. I think that he's really the type of guy who tries to squeeze in as much quality time with his family even with his work, and is the type to frequently show affection and pride for his children. Jason is completely soft for his wife and children, in contrast to how much of a no-nonsense hardass he is on the job. I am utterly convinced that this is the man who would always play along with his daughter's tea parties when he has tine and would never miss any of his son's games (he'd ask Jenny to record it for him if he's knows he's gonna be on a mission for a long time). I imagine that he really goes the extra mile to be the best role model for his kids, being both responsible and loving even with the limited presence he has because of his job. Hudson is the father figure some us needed in life ngl.

I don't think Mason would be an abusive dad contrary to what most people would take away from the one interaction we see with him and a very young David. I definitely think he'd have some major anger issues though, no doubt that trauma from The Numbers™️ and all the shit he's gone through as soldier and later CIA op would have an impact on him. He would never lay a hand on his own kid, but he's definitely shouted at them pretty frequently and has likely broken objects around them when he's angry. Much more so after his wife's death and being left as a single dad who barely has any idea what he's doing, and the only other person who can rein him in from it is Frank. I think he's more affectionate and less emotionally distant than Adler, but still just not as close as he should be to his child. He'd apologize for his outbursts and all but, being raised with traditional values from the 30s-40s, he isn't really the type to have those heartfelt talks about feelings because men are supposed to be strong and being emotional makes you weak and all that crap. Would be tougher with a son, and stricter with a daughter. Alex would become a lot more understanding and open over time when his kid grows older, and mellow out as an old man and just be proud of how they turned out despite how he was. The anger issues never really dissipates, but he learns to control it and be better for his kid for the remainder of his life. Mason is the dad you'd resent and have so much anxiety over in your teens and twenties but eventually make up with and get closure by your late thirties or so.

Woods would definitely be more of a fun uncle than a dad. More of the tough love type, but will always remind his kid that they're appreciated at the end of the day. But I also imagine he's a lot more reckless snd clumsy, specially as a first-time father. May not be perfect, has his own shortcomings in a lot of places, but he's really trying his best. I imagine that he probably tiptoed a lot when it came to raising David, trying not to yell at him too much and tried to be his anchor as much as he can after he was tricked into killing Alex (and then promptly going off on him when he shows face again after thirty years). Frank would be considerate and very vocal about his appreciation for his kid despite . Woods is the lovable old man that you'd have a lot of funny memories to look back on, and cussing you out is just his own way of saying he loves you.

I don't have as much thoughts on them but I think Park would be very overprotective, especially if she had a daughter. Would shelter her child and be very strict with them, making sure she knows how and where her kid is all the time, who her kid is with, and how safe they are. Would make her child wear a tracker watch and tell her all and any people they meet or see. Madam Shell's betrayal and her brother's death have definitely left a mark on her, and she would excessively worry about them at all times, to the point of it being suffocating and very invasive Lazar is the balance to this, more lenient and lets his kid have a right to privacy and freedom. Sure, he still worries a lot, but he has enough faith in his child to let then go off on their own when they're at an appropriate age. I also imagine that he gives the best best hugs. Sims would be somewhere in between, albeit more leaning on the stricter side.

AHHHH THIS TOOK ME SO LONG TO ANSWER I'M SORRY

bUuuuT

i love this idea so I'm gonna do silly little headcannons for it

How the Safehouse Crew treat their kid

Russell Adler

He's absolutely an absent dad

It's not that he does it on purpose, it's just what happens with his job

Russell tries so hard. So hard to be there, but a lot of the time he just can't because of work

If his kid does any sports, you can bet your ass that he's gonna be at any games he can

Now, that's not a lot, but still

Adler absolutely cheers the loudest anytime that his kid does anything

He'll also argue with the refs or umpires about dumb calls

Has been kicked out multiple times

Russell also buys his kid anything that they want

Christmas with him is like out of a damn movie

Presents are practically stacked to the roof and each one is more extravagant than the last

Is definitely the type of parent to dump a bunch of money on his kid for whatever they want

It's his way of making up for barely being around

Has missed his visitation days a lot

Every time he does, Adler sends money and presents as an apology

One time, his kid was staying over at his house because they got into an argument with their mom

He came home late and was met with the sight of his only child smoking cigarettes in the living room

"You know what those do to your lungs?"

The kid just stared for a second before nodding in shock

"Good. Don't be surprised when you get lung cancer. Lord knows I'm already getting close to that. Give me one."

The kid hands over the whole pack, and Adler takes one, lights it, and hands it back. "Don't tell your mother."

On the times that he actually has off and has the kid, he tries to make a whole day out of spending time together

Adler takes them to an amusement park or something, and its just plain awkward the whole time

But, by the end of the day, they're just a little closer

Mainly because they had a heart to heart on the car ride home

They even hugged!

Yay!

And then nothing changed

Boo >:(

Jason Hudson

Girl dad 100%

He's the dad that everyone needs

So supportive, no matter what

Jason does, in fact, have two girls. And, if I remember right, he loves them more than anything

This man absolutely has been caught playing princesses and knights with his daughters by his wife

His favorite thing is to sit at the tiny tables and have a tea party

Loves his kids so much

If he had a son, Hudson would teach him how to throw a football

Definitely would push him to join a sport

If he does, Hudson goes to every game

Just like Adler, he cheers the loudest

If his girls get boyfriends, you can bet your ass that he's going to let them know that he has multiple guns and absolutely knows how to use it

#WillThreatenToKillThem

Jason has to be told by his wife to leave them alone

He only does because he loves his wife so so much and he'd kill for her

Lots of physical affection

Hugs and all that good stuff

His kids definitely won't be touch starved

Is absolutely who they go to first whenever something happens and they need help/support

If he ever catches his kid doing something that they shouldn't, like smoking, he has to try really hard not to yell at them. He pretty much has to walk away to cool off before he can approach the conversation in a way that he wants to

Hudson and his kid are going to have a long talk that ends in a hug and a promise not to do it again

Overall his kids are well behaved and he's a good dad

Alex Mason

My poor boy

I love him so much, anger issues and all

Any time that he screams and breaks things in front of his kid, he calls Woods to come and pick them up so he can take care of things

He always feels horrible after he yells. Alex never wanted to hurt anyone. Quite the opposite, actually. He just doesn't know how to control his anger

Throughout the kids developmental years, he tries his best not to yell or get angry, but a lot of the time he can't stop himself in time

In comes one Frank Woods, who ends up coming over and taking the kid out for ice cream or to the park or just for a drive

He ends up being that cool uncle that the kid goes to when something happens

When he gets discharged (Honorably) from the military, Mason ends up going to therapy

And anger management classes

Only reason he does is because his kid ends up yelling back when he gets angry

And he realizes that he fucked up :(

So that helps him mellow out for his kids later years

Definitely apologizes to his kid for how they were raised

Alex won't over explain or get all mushy, but it'll come up as a simple "I'm sorry for how you were raised," and leave it at that

Will express his feelings through gifts or spending quality time with his kid

If he gets grandkids, Alex will take that as the time to make up for his kids shitty childhood

Best granddad for real

When he's older, he won't mind as much when it comes to telling his kid that he's proud of them

Lots of praise

Frank Woods

HE'S SO BABY GIRL I CAN'T

LOOK AT THIS GIF

Anyway

Definitely the type of dad to pretend that his kid is in trouble and then it turns out to be a prank

He would absolutely do it just like he did in the scene of the gif

Frank wouldn't yell at his kid, more just yell in general

He'll scream over football games, tv shows, dropping something, anything

He does not care

His kid would be used to loud noises by double digits

Woods would absolutely not know that his kid was sneaking out until Alex caught them

He doesn't particularly care, but he's a little disappointed that they didn't ask him if they could go

Instead of yelling, he would sit them down and have a serious discussion

Lots of "You could have just asked," and, "How many times have you done it?"

Basically he'd get his kid to quit because he knows it's a bad habit

I can't remember if he's a smoker or not, but if he is he would go through the process of quitting with said kid

Helen Park

She's kind of a shitty mom, ngl

Park can be good at it when she wants to, but she's got her own shit that he's going through

She can't handle a kid

In the early years, she's a little neglectful and absent

Then she does a full 180 and goes full over-protective mom mode

Trackers, constant phone calls, reassuring messages

The whole nine yards

She'll try her best to stop if her kid says something, but her anxiety is way too high to stop fully

Definitely the kind of mom to apologize through gifts

One fond memory that her kid would have of their younger years is her sneaking into their room and climbing into bed with them

She just sat there and held them, silently telling them how much she loved them

Helen thought their kid was asleep, not awake and hearing everything she was saying

Park definitely let her kid sneak into her bed when they had nightmares or got sick

She secretly loves it and is sad when they stop doing it

Okay that's all I got-

I didn't mean for this to take so long to make

[monotoneclown]

I wanted to try to paint with acrylics for the first time and decided to draw Adler. He was very fun to draw, might try to draw him again in the future.

COD Black Ops Cold War’s storyline still has me effected. I would have liked to talk more about this but I’m kind of sleepy and have a stomach ache today so I doubt that I would make sense even if I tried.

There’s also a drawing of a goat, because why not, I like them.

Anyways, just know that I’ll draw him again.

Kisses to you all.

[writeforfandoms]

The Calling 2

Find the series masterlist

This will eventually be Frank Woods x f!reader x Alex Mason. It was planned to be Frank Woods x reader but as I started writing it, Frank and Alex insisted on sharing. Menaces.

This is part of the dragon riders AU, but shows a different part of the AU. Hopefully you guys will enjoy it.

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol, drinking alcohol, flirting, banter, reader is a bit clueless when it comes to these two, unconventional relationships.

Word count: 1.2k

It was a couple days until you saw them again. You were busy, arranging the supplies for the three (and sneaking in a few goodies once you knew which three were leaving), as well as taking notes and helping to make arrangements for the upcoming hatching. 

Not that any arrangements were definite. Nobody ever knew exactly when the hatching would be. Eggs hatched on their own time, as the old saying went. 

And you weren't avoiding them. Not really. You were giving them time to relax, to settle back into life in the city. 

Everybody was busy, life was busy. You'd catch up with them soon. 

You paused outside, notepad clutched to your chest. Okay. You had a lot to do. They didn't, necessarily. 

Taking a deep breath, you waffled for a moment. You needed to go talk to the caretaker… but you didn't want to. She didn't frighten you, exactly, but you didn't much like her, either. 

You could always go to the storeroom first, confirm that they had the extra food necessary for the hatching. Baby dragons needed fresh meat, and it was the job of the storeroom to make sure it would be available. 

That was a much better plan than disturbing the notoriously cranky caretaker. 

Mind made up, you straightened your shoulders and nodded to yourself. 

And then squeaked as hands nearly tugged you off your feet. 

“You're a hard woman to catch,” Alex said, easy and conversational, steadying you. 

“Might even think you've been avoiding us,” Frank added, an edge to his tone you'd never heard before. He stepped around in front of you, one hand still at your elbow. 

“Why would I do that?” You frowned at him, straightening yourself so you no longer needed support from either of them. 

“Dunno,” Alex drawled, one hand remaining low on your back. “That's what we were wondering.” 

You huffed. “Well, you don't have to wonder, because I'm not avoiding you.” You crossed your arms over your chest, notepad clutched tight to your chest. 

“Good, then you'll come have a drink with us.” Frank grinned at you, hand once again finding your elbow.

You debated for a moment, eyeing him. But you had told them no last time, and you never knew how long you'd actually have with them… so you relented. “Okay. One drink.” 

Which is how you ended up between the two of them, only a little squished, all three of you standing at a counter with beers. 

“They got you busy getting ready for the hatching?” Alex asked with sympathy, pressing closer to you. You didn't mind too much, his warmth welcome. This place was a little drafty. 

“Very,” you agreed, fingers curled around your beer. 

“You going?” Frank propped one hip against the wall, beer in hand as he looked at you. 

“Me?” You snorted at the idea, shaking your head. “I suppose I could, but no. I don't need to. It's all pushing for better viewing and talking about who the dragons pick. Not my favorite.” 

“So you'll be free that day,” Frank mused with a secretive little smile. 

“I… suppose?” You blinked, caught off guard by that assessment. “Depends if I'm needed.”

“Nah, you're free.” Frank grinned, showing teeth. 

You thought about arguing, but just shrugged instead. Sometimes it wasn't worth arguing with these two. “I thought you two might go.” 

“Us?” Alex snorted, shaking his head. “Nah. We don't get invites, we're not that important.”

“And we like it that way,” Frank added, wagging one finger at you. “So don't get any ideas.” 

You held up one hand in easy surrender, smiling. “I promise, no ideas.” 

“Good.” Frank nudged your shoulder gently. “That's our girl.” 

You swallowed, immediately going warm, taking a sip of beer to hide your fluster. 

Alex nudged your other shoulder. “You work too hard, you don't come out with us often enough.” 

“This coming from you?” You smiled though to take the sting out of your words. “I just do what I need to do.” 

“Always have.” Frank shrugged. “Wouldn't be so bad to go out more.” 

You shrugged. “Maybe,” you murmured. “Glad to be back, for a while?” 

“For a while,” Frank agreed. “Until someone starts making noises about us becoming riders again.” 

You chuckled. “You really think anyone will still try? You're older than most candidates, now.” 

“Most, not all.” Frank made a face. “Wouldn't be surprised if someone starts making noise about it again.” 

“Anyone who does is a fool,” you said with confidence, shaking your head even as you looked at your beer. Still half-full. “You two would never give up this life.”

A moment of charged silence passed between the three of you, and you felt both Frank and Alex still at your sides. You took a drink to let the moment pass. 

“I don't know about never,” Alex hedged, unusually cautious. 

“Never know what could happen,” Frank agreed, one hand landing in the middle of your back. 

“True,” you agreed slowly, unable to resist the temptation to lean back into his touch. “You'll have to tell me if you decide to retire. I'll miss working with you two.” 

“I knew you'd miss us,” Alex said with a sudden grin, crowding in against your side. 

“That's not what I said,” you protested, laughing even as you let him take your beer. “I said I'd miss working with you.” 

“Same thing,” Frank murmured in your ear. With his hand on your back, you didn't doubt that he'd felt the shiver roll down your spine. 

“If you insist.” You took your beer back from Alex, still smiling. “Seriously, though. You two getting tired of your trips?”

“You make it sound like a jaunt through the woods,” Frank grumbled, his hand sliding down slowly to your lower back. 

“Not yet,” Alex answered, nudging one foot up against yours. “Still have work to do.” 

“Not until after the hatching, though.” You shook your head. “Pretty sure nobody else is going out until after the hatching. You know how much the Primes love to make it a big thing.” 

They both made noises of agreement - they'd seen more hatchings than you had. Frank had even been a participant in one, years back. But only one, to hear the stories. Not that you'd ever worked up the nerve to ask Frank yourself. 

“Regardless,” Alex went on, unperturbed. “You're free that day.” 

“You have something in mind?” You raised one eyebrow at him. 

“You'll see.” Alex smiled, just a little. 

You rolled your eyes but didn't object. These two wouldn't get you into any real trouble, or put you in danger. You were safe with them. 

“You want another?” Frank asked, motioning to your beer. 

You shook your head. “Sticking with one. I have to be up early tomorrow.” 

“You have a meeting?” 

“Yes.” You didn't give him more than that, and he didn't ask. He knew better. 

“We won't keep you up too late,” Alex promised with a twinkling little grin.

[leavemealoneplsandthx]

PLEASE GRANDPA JUST GIVE ME ONE CHANCE 😮‍💨😩😩😩

[animefreak1145]

Church Bells(Adler x Bell!Reader xWoods)

Previous Intel | Next Intel

Sixth Intel | Watch

Description:

The world ended for Bell after Cuba.

The whole world followed soon after.

Zombies AU | Drabble Format

Warnings/Tags: Mature Rating, Graphic Violence, Dark Themes, Trauma, Body Horror, Gore, Major Character Death, Brainwashing, Post!Cuba, Pre!Solovetsky, No Solovetsky, Female Bell, Older Man/Younger Woman

Words: 1.6k

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

You were observing for days.

Picking apart the papers, the plans, the tools they have at their disposal with Sims. Hawkish tired baggy eyes, always seeming to stray at the itch of your skin that is getting irritated from your nails than anything else. No other outside source. (Nightmare.) 

It was hard for the others to cajole you out the cage you built around you, the storage room with the arcade game you used to play with but now is stock still. 

Dead. A waste of energy. 

(Why are you here again? Ah. Solovetsky. Always about going to Solovetsky. That’s all they need of you. They aren’t your friends. He’s not your friend.)

You even locked yourself in. To keep them out. To keep you in. Concentration. Watching. Planning. Eying. 

You had a fire to your ass and this time it wasn’t Adler that caused it, (his hands around your jaw or your throat, squeezing your cheeks together unforgivingly or pressing down warningly to your carotid and air supply, Bell, open the door. He said good work. ) but instead it was your head, your thoughts, the feeling of blood pumping to your ears and grim determination clenching your jaw and hands around the pens and pencils and office supplies you have hoarded in this cage you made yourself.

You ignored how Woods cursed at you and your behavior, but your eyes couldn’t help but study his deep blue. The ocean normally with its high tides to make up for the hurricane of a man, only for it to be swimming in concern and worry on what is causing this frantic episode of yours. 

The tornado of a man cursed at you with no intent, looking haggard with tired shoulders as if he was there in the cage with you. Only for them to tense when Adler, who is ice and cool and hard to read and what is that look in his eyes when he stares past your cage and into your face, tells Woods to leave you be, to let you plan the finishing touches needed for the cell tower and you will come out when you decide to. 

“Stop babying her.”

“Wha—you conniving fucker,” the hurricane spat at the arctic breeze, dangerous and unbelieving wild grin upon his face. “You ordered her to do this. You think I’m going to let you dig around your dirty shitty claws around her brain again? You used the trigger phrase, didn’t you? Didn’t you?!”

(You talked to Woods once, that the trigger would still probably work. The lot of you have no time to deprogram a terrorist. You were concerned, worrying your lip and how easy it would be to become a mindless puppet again. Frank, all grim faced, only tugged you to him with your eyes widening as you met the gear covered chest. Safe . Secure . The immovable mountain and the chaotic hurricane turned firm like a rooted tree that shall never bend. Can you make a home here in these roots? Is he letting you? And a rumble to your ear “You don’t have to worry your pretty little head about that. No one will say that sentence again. Until we get you back to Washington and we’ll fix you up, you’ll be able to say the words yourself as easy as you can decode.”)

Face to face.

The storm and ice. 

And, despite you wanting to see Frank punch the ever living lights out of Adler again, you stepped out the cage and intervened with a gentle yet firm hand to Woods shoulder before Mason or Sims could, back to Adler who you can feel his eyes on you.

When he glanced down in bewilderment, he met your grateful little smile playing on your lips and a shake of your head.

“It’s okay. He didn’t do any of that. I wanted to.” Woods didn’t seem to believe you, and your hand wandered from his shoulder to his wrist to do a squeeze of his hand. Woods blinked, eyes on the hold before meeting your somber ones. “We need this plan. Adler is right on the importance of this. We need that cell tower.  Him and I gotta do this right with all of you. To plan with all of you. ”

Woods face began to sour right when you mentioned Adler. Glancing up to where Adler was only to sour more. 

He tugged his hand away and turned his  back on you. You tried to not let it affect you. (He always touches you and accepts yours like you accept his. He’s not distant.) 

“Yeah, yeah. I got it. Just don’t…” his tone lost his gumption when he turned his face back towards you. You can spot his swallow before he waved a hand flippantly, (not the hand you touched. The hand you touched is tucked in his jacket pocket. Like a secret.) before he made a dramatic puff of air out his mouth. “Just don’t fall over dead or electrocute your brain over there.”

The joke fell flat, your brows pinched in concern and your back still itched with eyes on you.

You turned, almost missing the smug smirk Adler had around his cigarette but not missing his upturned brow when he looked at you. 

He dipped his head in a semblance of a nod, nicotine smoke around them both as he breathed, “Don’t let him keep treating you like glass. You’re not made of it.” 

And off he went, whisking away to his corner of the safehouse. 

Your jaw clenched when his scent and presence left you, irritation building at the pretense(How would he know how you wanted to be treated? He doesn’t know you. You used to lick up those small nods as if they were ambrosia, his pride towards you like nectar. He broke you. He can’t tell you what to do.) before you went back to your cage. 

Later, after your three day planning confinement, with you and Park atop a nearby building of the cell tower to study the zombie horde and the strange crystals that keep appearing like never ending amethysts, you were questioned by the MI6 agent.

Or what may be left of the MI6.

“Is Woods a wise choice, Bell?”

The question came from left field(Woods taught you that saying) and it made you take off your binoculars, your face twisted into deep befuddlement.

“What?”

Park’s face didn’t change, it was the expression where she expected no nonsense. Her attention on you and not the sniper rifle who has an impressive scope and what she should be using to watch. 

“Don’t play the oblivious card, Bell. It doesn’t suit you.”

You were starting to get annoyed at the non answers. (You hate non answers. Hums that don’t mean anything or everything. You’re sick of it.)

“What are you talking about?”

Park huffed.

“This dance you’re doing with Woods. Is it genuine? Or are you trying to get back at Adler?”

Your eyes flashed, your grip on your binoculars tightening.

That’s all it goes back to. Your genuineness. 

(Stop lying, Bell. Start again and tell me how you met Perseus.)

“Frank and I are genuinely friends. Just like me and Mason are.” Park’s brows pinched together and you really want to shout at her but you stick with a hissed “What?” instead.

“You’re getting that look in your eyes when you look at Woods. And don’t think we can’t all see how touchy you two are with each other. Especially with what happened earlier.” (You touched Woods hand, yours were gloved. But you still felt it. How warm he can be. The curious inquisitive side of you wanted to know what would happen if your hand was bare, what would the valley of his knuckles feel like? Would it match the mountain of a man?) “Woods is…” Park cleared her throat. “Woods is showing deep care for you. But the last thing we need is something to split the team apart. So. Is it genuine?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, looking through the binoculars again to dismiss her.

“Didn’t you say to give a certain man a wide berth?” 

“And I’m glad for you for it. But Bell,” a hand moved stops yours, shifting the binoculars down and you were met with concerned gray eyes, a soft voice. “. . .Adler is the type of man who has a hard time giving over control. Can you honestly say you won’t fall upon his hands again if he asked?”

“Adler,” you spat, fury and rage and vindictive and hot on your chest. It made Park’s eyes widen, which made you blink and deflate and appear like the kicked bunny that you are instead of what you were before. “. . . I know what kind of man Adler is. But. . . Woods is. . . Frank is. . . ” You clenched your teeth, bowed your head. “I. . . don’t want to hurt him. . . He’s been. He’s been kind to me. He makes me laugh.”

Park’s eyes gave you a once over, assessing and scrutinizing before you felt a hand atop your shoulder. A gentle squeeze. You looked up and spotted gentle eyes to match before she focused back on her sniper and looking through it.

“It seems we may have similar taste in men, Bell.”

You glanced at her in pity. 

Lazar always found a way to make her laugh.

If they achieve this, create the line again for Washington—to Weaver—than perhaps Park can find someone again. 

You and Adler’s plan can’t fail.

(Adler’s protege will make a way.)

▞ ▚

▛

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…hahahahahaha… hi?

I’m back in the writing pit of this universe! Thank you to @makeyourpeacenow and @junkyardhound with their wondrous works in AO3 I recently discovered thanks to me trying to scour for Adler x Bell fics again. And that inspired me. And for the BO6 trailer. Where I’m back to wanting the Officially Wanted Man Russell Adler.

May this fire not die until this fic is at least completed. And than maybe I can hop back into my other Adler x Bell fic.

Tag List: @tr1ppylady @parkeepingparker @weirdoartist21 @gojocat247 @mayaibnlaahad @dallmaistir @salvija @kylezkie4adler @asaltryefl @stupid-stinky @aurora-windu @zachfoxx121

Are any of you guys still here? I sure hope so. I miss you guys.

[harubonnie00]

THE PAST

Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, emotional journey, war story, family loss, survivor, resilience, coming of age, tragedy, flashback, independent living, alone, past memories, heartbreak, childhood trauma, heroine, strength in adversity, military.

words count: 1.3k

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A wide-eyed 13-year-old, bathed in the golden glow of a warm afternoon. The sun filters through the leaves of the ancient oak tree that stands guard in your backyard, casting playful shadows on the ground. Your laughter echoes as you chase your younger sibling, your feet barely touch the ground with the sheer exhilaration of youth. The air is filled with the scent of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers, an idyllic picture of familial bliss.

Your mother a beacon of warmth, watches from the porch, her eyes crinkling with affection as she calls out you and your sister.

“Don’t run too far, darling! Dinner’s nearly ready, y/n.” Her voice is a melody of comfort and safety, an auditory embrace that wraps around you.

Your father stands beside her, his draped casually over shoulder. He grins as you and Sarah tumble to the ground in a heap of giggles, and he says, “Looks like someone’s going to need a bath before dinner.”

This moment, suspended in time, is a snapshot of happiness, a memory you will hold onto in the darkest of times.

As dusk begins to settle, painting the sky in hues of purple and orange, the peace is abruptly shattered. The distant rumble of tanks and the harsh clatter of boots on cobblestones send a chill down your spine. You exchange a worried glance with your mother, whose face suddenly pales.

“The war…” she whispers, her voice barely audible over the rising din. “It’s coming.”

Your father ushers you all inside, his demeanor suddenly serious and alert. He locks the doors and windows, his hands trembling slightly as he turns to face you and Sarah.

“Listen to me,” he says, his voice firm but gentle. “We have to stay together. Whatever happens, do as i say.”

The night stretches on, each minute feeling like an eternity. You huddle in the dim light of the living room, the sounds of chaos growing louder outside. Your heart races, a wild drumbeat in your chest, as fear settles in your stomach like a lead weight.

The inevitable moment arrives with a crash. The door splinters under the force of a soldier’s foot, and the room is flooded with harsh, unforgiving light. Uniformed figures storm in, their expressions devoid of mercy.

Your mother stands protectively in front of you, her voice steady as she pleads, “Please, we’re innocent!”

But her words fall on deaf ears. The soldiers move with cold efficiency, their rifles gleaming ominously in the dim light. Time slows as you watch in horror, your mind unable to process the violence unfolding before you. You hear your father’s voice, raised in protest, cut off abruptly. Your world tilts, shatters, as your family falls one by one.

Amidst the chaos, you find yourself frozen, unable to breathe, unable to move. A sob escape your lips, and you clamp a hand over your mouth to stifle the sound, tears streaming down your face.

Instinct kicks in. Your mother’s last whispered command echoes in your mind: “Hide, y/n.” You scramble backward, your small frame slipping into the narrow space behind the heavy drapes. You press yourself flat against the wall, heart hammering so loudly you fear it will give you away.

Through a gap in the fabric, you witness the devastation: your home, once a sanctuary, now a scene of unspeakable horror. Your bite down on your lip until metallic taste of blood fills your mouth, willing yourself to remain silent to not draw attention.

The hours crawl by, each one a lifetime. Eventually, the soldiers leave, their footsteps fading into the night. You remain hidden, unable to trust the silence that follows. Only when the first light of dawn creeps into the room do you dare to emerge, your limbs stiff and aching from tension.

Your home is unrecognisable and your heart aches with the loss of your family. You force yourself to move to gather what little you can carry. Clothes, a photograph of your family, a few precious keepsakes—these become your lifeline, a tether to a past now irrevocably lost.

“This is cruel… no feeling no heart. They take all from me…” you were sobbing.

Determined to survive, you navigate the world alone, your innocence stripped away. The streets become your home, and you learn to fend for yourself, relying on the kindness of strangers and your own wits. School becomes both a refuge and a challenge, a place where you can momentarily escape the harsh reality of your existence.

You grow stronger, more resilient. Each day is a battle but you face it with a fierce determination, driven by the memory of your family’s love and the promise you made to your mother to keep going.

“I promise…”

“No one can stop me…”

“Whenever…”

“I will comeback…”

You stand on the cusp of adulthood, a survivor of unimaginable loss. The past is a shadow that follows you, but it is also a source of strength. You carry your family’s legacy within you, a reminder of the happiness that once was and the hope that still remains.

Five years have passed since the harrowing incident that shattered your world when you were just 13 years old—a war crime so brutal that it left you orphaned and scarred in ways no child should ever experience. The memories of that time are etched into your mind, haunting your dreams and shadowing your days. Yet, despite the unimaginable loss, you have managed to piece your life back together, finding solace in the embrace of a new family, a community that has supported you in your journey of healing.

In these years of recovery, you have learned to cherish the peace that now surrounds you. The small town where you live is a heaven of tranquility, a place where the horrors of the past seem like a distant nightmare. Here, you’ve discovered the beauty in everyday moments—watching the sunrise paint the sky with hues of gold and pink, feeling the warmth of the sun on your skin, and listening to the soothing sounds of nature that whisper promises of renewal.

Despite the serenity that envelops you, the past is never far from your thoughts, It’s a shadow that lingers on the edges of your consciousness, a reminder of the resilience you’ve had to muster to survive. Life has taught you to appreciate peace, but it has also instilled a strength in you, a quiet determination that propels you forward.

One day, seeking the familiar comfort of nature, you decide to spend an afternoon at your favourite park. It’s a sanctuary of sorts, a place where you can lose yourself in thought and find moments of clarity. As you settle onto a weathered bench, you allow the gentle rustling of leaves and the cheerful chirping of birds to lull you into a sense of calm.

However, your peaceful reverie is soon interrupted. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a man standing at the edge of the park. He’s watching you intently, his gaze unwavering and intense, An unsettling feeling creeps over you, but you try to ignore it, convincing yourself that perhaps he’s just another park-goer.

As time passes, the man doesn’t disappear. Instead, he begins to approach you with measure steps, his expression serious. Confusion mingles with apprehension as he draws closer, and your mind races with questions.

Who is he? What does he want with you?

When he stops a few feet away, he speaks, his voice calm yet authoritative.

“I apologise for startling you,” he begins, “but i need a moment of your time. My name is Russell Adler, and I’m with the CIA.”

The revelation is both shocking and bewildering. The CIA? You blink, trying to process his words. why would someone from the CIA be interested in you? Your life though marked by tragedy, has been one of quiet rebuilding and resilience.

It will change your life.

[mockerycrow]

400 Follower Celebration

JUNE 5TH - JUNE 15TH, 2023

WOOOHOOOO thank you sososo much for 400 followers!! I decided I wanted to celebrate with little blurbs and fics, so here’s a list of prompts you can choose from + pick a call of duty character to pair with!

CONSIDERATE PROMPTS

PHYSICAL INJURY PROMPTS

QUESTION PROMPTS

STAYING THE NIGHT PROMPTS

I will continue to pump out requests until I make an announcement that I will no longer be taking prompt asks for the time being. If you have a prompt of your own, feel free to send that in, too!

THIS EVENT HAS ENDED. THANK YOU!

400 Follower Posts

“Please don’t tell me we fell asleep like this.” — Kyle Garrick

“I know how stress you’ve been today, so i took care of all the housework. Just sit back and relax, you’ve more than earned it.” — Alejandro Vargas

“C’mere, let me see.” — 141 + König

“Go back to sleep, baby, it’s okay.”— König

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”— Ghost

“Do you want to stay in tonight? You don’t look thrilled at the prospect of going out, and I only want to go if you want to as well.” + “Stop hogging the blankets.”— John Price

“Can I kiss you?”— Kyle Garrick

“I thought we were past this.”— Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

“What do you mean? Of course I was going to defend you, nobody has the right to talk about you like that!”— John Price

“Don’t you dare lie. I can see it hurts, so show me.”— Kyle Garrick

“I can’t wait to take this off you.”— Kyle Garrick

“I don’t know how to fix this.”— König

“Can I touch you?”— König