#jason hudson x reader

[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

[wfanfic56]

New picture| Touched | Hudson x reader

Chapter 2

"What do you mean, you don't have a picture frame of those dimensions? Those are normal dimensions for every picture....Okay, okay, I'll find somewhere else" he put his office telephone down and he put his head in his hands, sighing. After almost 2 months after your first day here as his secretary, he still couldn't find as picture frame for his family picture he broke that day.

You knocked, carrying black coffee for him and news paper. He looked at you, making a small smile just for you. You grew closer to him, a gift you had, and every time he sees you, it makes him forget his problems for a second. He was staring at you, but then he realised that you asked him a question, but he doesn't know what.

"Excuse me Y/N, I was thinking something" he lied "Could you repeat what have you said?" -"I asked are you alright. With full respect, you look like you're million miles away." He stood up, slightly making you jump, and he stood next to the window.

"In these past two months, I was looking for identic picture frame with same dimensions, and I called almost every store, and they don't have it. I understand that they don't have identical frame, but that they don't have same dimensions, that's absurd." you took his frame to look at it -"Well it's just a broken glass, it could be fixed." you turned your gaze towards him.

"You open the frame, clean the remaining broken glass, put the new one, put back the frame and secure it. It's not a big deal." -"I know that L/N, but I can't find someone to make me glass with same dimensions."

You stood for a moment thinking who you could call and then you remembered that your cousin is working with all types of glass, from windows to frame glasses. "I could help you with that, my cousin can make it. Just give me those dimensions and I'll talk to him later today."

Hudson smiled at you. While writing down those dimensions, he could only be thankful to Black for giving you this job. After you left, he went straight to his office, wanting to thank him. Black called him in and after a comfortable chat with him, Hudson spoke: "Well Black, I have to thank you. Hiring her, you made my work here easier." –"Hiring who Hudson? I don't know what are you talking about?"

That statement made him laugh "I'm talking about my new secretary that you hired her two months ago." –"Jason, I never hired anyone, especially someone's secretary. And that was two months ago, I was on a holiday with my family." his eyes widened, if Black didn't hire you, then who did?

––––––––––––

"Okay L/N, or whatever your name is, who hired you? Black didn't so don't tell me he did." he closed the door of his office when you came the next day with his frame, now in piece. He told you to sit down and then starting questioning you.

"My name is Y/N L/N, and you don't need to doubt that." you said. "As for who hired me, I don't know, I just got a letter in my mailbox where is written that I have been accepted after I signed up for this type of job. If you want I can show you that." he nodded, and then you opened your purse and took out that letter you've been holding there since you got it. He put his glasses, read it and then he looked at you.

"This didn't make any suspicious to you?" -"It did sir, but after working here for two months I thought that's how you work."

"Where have you worked before?" -"FBI, Quantico. I worked as a pathologist." he looked at you. He wasn't satisfied, especially after hearing that you were former FBI agent. It made a whole new picture about you. But there's something certain, he would never trust you like before.

[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

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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.

[ghostbustting]

𝐂𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Want to know more about my fics? read these ↓

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꩜ Guns N’ Roses

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꩜ Etc. (Read the second point below)

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𖹭 Requests: Always open !! Though, at some points, I will take breaks from answering, especially when I have a very full schedule, which happens a lot. But feel free to leave a req anytime anyday, I will find time to do them asap <3

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P.S Feel free to message me if you’re interested in becoming moots !! Toodles~ ദ്ദി(*＾3＾)

[maymaylyn]

Frank Woods Smut lil Snippet

Just a thought of our big daddy Woods/ male or female reader no gender said…. 18+ smut warning it might be a little much for some people. It’s not for everyone, respect that.

••••••

“Come onn, You gettin’ tired now?”

The sting of a sharp hit on his left cheekbone sent lightning straight down his spine. That and the clench of your tight hole was almost blinding. Shaking his head only once to focus on the thrust of his hips and the sound of your wetness hitting his balls. Frank couldn’t help but smirk wickedly at you above him doing your damnedest to make him sweat. Letting out a chuckle at the façade that took over you when you first straddle him.

“It’s like that now huh? You think you’re tough? Well? Don’t play with me like that sugar. Show me how strong my baby is!”

Just as he thrusts his hips up in a bruising way. You barely register saying, “Fuck! Do it again!”

Like hell he won’t when you sound so sweet…

••••••

Courtesy of brainstorming session with my love @gunnrblze hope you enjoy. Does anyone else think it’s hot in here? I have something else really cooking’ for Frank here (≖ᴗ≖ )

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[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

[djloveyou3000]

I have something to say if Lilo and Stitch came out in the 80s bell would be obsessed and would love stitch I’m curious on what you guys would think the others in Cold War and black ops 6 what would be their favourite Disney and Pixar movies

[faith-skull]

🦋About my blog🦋

I go by she/her and you can call me Kaizeril or Kai

I write for different cod characters I do not write NSFW content I only write SFW content

‼️ please DO NOT be weird or request weird stuff‼️

Characters I may write for (you can request whatever cod characters you want!!):

Jason Hudson

Russell Adler

Maxim Antonov

Ingo Beck

William Peck

Lev Kravchenko

Vladimir Makarov

Grigori Weaver

Nikolai

David Mason

John Price

Gabriel T. Rorke

Dimitri belikov

Vadim Rudnik

"Bell"

Mendo Garcia

Victor Zakhaev

Philip graves

(I'm sorry if this intro thing sucks I'm new to writing..)

[r0syr3a]

A rosy introduction

Hello everyone! I figured that now I'm writing and being more active on my blog, I'd give a formal introduction <3

My name is Rea or Ryder (Rea pronounced Rye-Uh). I am an '05 babe and a Gemini.

I write fanfics and poetry and will be sharing others (Artists support Artists!)

Who I write: OG lineup of Guns N Roses, All Metallica members (yes, including Dave), and Motley Crue. I may write for TV shows/movies in the future.

What I write: I will mainly be writing fluff and angst, I can try smut if requested, but it is not my normal. Some pieces may be suggestive but that's about it and it will always be in the warnings. I currently only do "x reader". It can be romantic, platonic, or even family.

All my works will be under the rosywrites tag so you can find them easy! (Or you can use my masterlist!)

Requests are currently open! Don't be afraid to ask, if I'm uncomfortable with something, I will say so.

Thank you for reading <3

[attadale]

Mr worldwide one of my dads fr🙏🏽

Excuse my cheap meme editing😕

[bruhhhh-huhhhhh]

CoD Cold War Masterlist

Alex Mason

Nothing yet

Lawrence Sims

Nothing yet

Frank Woods

Nothing yet

Helen Park

Nothing yet

Russel Adler

Nothing yet

Lazar Azuolay

Nothing yet

Jason Hudson

Nothing yet

[wfanfic56]

Change me...| Alex Mason x reader

"...we talked about sports, and school, and she gave me some advice about studying, that I have to make pauses between subjects I have to study. And I should not worry too much about that." After his father picked him up after school, David was talking to his father about a woman he was staying with, after Jenny left for a important business meeting.

Alex was paranoid about her, as every parent should be. Leaving your child to unknown person would do only insane person. Well, she was Hudson's sister, maybe that fact was a little bit relaxing, but still, even siblings aren't the same. And there he was, standing in front of her front door, knocking to 'thank her' for taking care of his son.

"It's now or never" he whispered to himself, and he knocked. -"Coming! Just a sec!" a voice was heard from the other side of the door. And then they were opened, and she was standing there. Woman 5'8, medium length y/h/c hair, y/e/c and on her neck, underneath her chin, was a thin line - scar from a knife. He studied you for a while, and then he realized he was staring at you

"Hello, how may I help you?" -"Hey, uh...I'm Alex, David is my son. Hudson told me where you live, so I just came to thank you for taking care of David. I hope he didn't make any problem." he got red in his face. Was he blushing or was it the cold weather?

"He's a wonderful child, I really enjoyed in his company. Would you like to come in? It's pretty cold outside." -"Maybe next time, Dave is waiting for me in the car." she smiled at him. "Okay, then I wish you a wonderful day." and with a small smile he left like he never was there.

Getting in the car, his cheeks got red more than before. Mason tried to collect himself, so he tried to just start his car and leave in front of her house. "I think you like her, dad." -"Jesus Christ! You scared me." "But I was here all the time."

"I know, I was just thinking something, and I forgot that you were here. Do you have a lot of homework?" David shook his head "Okay, what do you think about pancakes for dinner? We could call uncle Frank to come, too." -"Yea! I can't wait!"

__________________

"What do you think, Frank?" Alex asked after he told almost everything what happened while David was in the living room playing games.

"Everything would be fine if there's not that one thing"

"Fuck man, you've been clinging onto that from the moment I said that. But there's a thing, she has a scar on her neck, maybe she's been working with Hudson."

"Did you say scar? Mason, she's a Captain, just like you, and she served in Marines, just like us, and she beats shit out of everyone, just like she did to me." on that Alex choked on the beer he was drinking "And yeah, I met her. She's fine, but don't get her on the nerve. She will kill you ASAP."

"So...you want me to try?"

"If you want to play with death, go on."

[animefreak1145]

Church Bells(Adler x Bell!Reader x Woods)

Previous Intel | Next Intel

Seventh Intel | Outbreak

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, Suicidal Thoughts, Cognitive Dissonance, Mental Illness

Words: 2.7k

A/N: I’m really bad at drabbles. I’m trying.

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

Your throat burned, a hand clawing to your neck to try to stop it.

“Sims! What’s wrong with the line to Washington?” A voice that was never your friend, or something almost more, called out from beyond the medical room(were they doing intramuscular shots? You mistaking being sore from missions but instead, it was for the lie.) Your stomach coiled low in your gut, cold sweat not faltering from creating more perspiration in your body. “You sure you dialed it right?”

“What kind of question is that, man? I can dial the number in my sleep!” He never liked you. He would stare at you like you were a stranger when your friendly eyes met his. Can a friend hurt your feelings if all they saw in you was an enemy? Your chest heaved as you sat in the gurney, you can feel Park’s hand to your back, rubbing. “Something must be going on. Hudson had to step out while we were doing this shit show. They called him when Bell was passed out.”

“Shit…” the voice, always low and gravelly and comforting and casual and—

Bile is climbing up your throat and you push Park away so doesn’t get it on her shoes. Acid in your throat and tears running down your cheeks at the forceful gags and vomit on the grey floor.

“Bell?” Park with her British accent, motherly holds your forehead up as you coughed and hacked and she shushes you in comfort before turning her attention back to the commotion outside. You can’t take this fake concern for your well being. “You don’t think Perseus sent out the signal, Adler? We would’ve been dead by now along with all of Europe.”

“No, no, it sounded like something else.” Sims replied, expression in deep critical thinking of whatever happened with Hudson—he never trusted you, why would he? You’re a Red—and his sudden disappearance. “It sounded like they were going to send a helo or aircraft for him.”

“But for what?” Russell intoned. (Too friendly. Not a first name basis. Was he playing you like a fiddle? No. A marionette.) “Hudson isn’t that much of an impatient bastard to just leave without seeing if we got an answer or not. No…this is something big.” Adler rubbed his chin before looking back up at Sims. “Did you happen to catch anything else?”

Your world turned on its axis, and no one here seems to care. Your head was bowed, hands on your knees as you were bent over. Your left eye pounding out your socket. Trying to catch your breath—catch Perseus. All for Perseus. Everyone here is a liar. Oh God. Just die why don’t you?

“You’re still one of us.”

You shook the hand he touched violently, not caring at Park’s bewildered glance at you, eyes burning and red. You wish you can keep retching, perhaps if you wretch enough your heart will climb up your throat, choking you as it temporarily blocks your airway( his hands were around the junction of your jaw, can easily press on your throat, in cruel resemblance to what happened in Lubyanka) with everyone seeing it stuck at the hollow of your throat before you finally cough it up and show you its scars, pumping on the floor weakly and bleeding as spittle went down your chin and then—and then—you’ll crush it yourself instead of the metaphorical way that Russell did.

Sims scoffed, throwing a hand to motion at you before stepping close to Adler, voice low. But you can still hear. You’re still here. This is all real?

“I couldn’t exactly get everything with Bell screaming like that. Jesus,” Sims cried, all animated and getting antsy as his arms moved towards the door of the safehouse. “he probably already left and we didn’t hear it. You didn’t have to go so hard, man!”

Your vision was swimming, but you lolled your head towards their direction, you slowly traveling up to Adler’s expression to see. And you felt like you already knew the answer as you spotted his lips in a flat line, unchanging. Stoic.

“We got the answer, didn’t we?” You closed your eyes tightly, seeing stars in the black. Hand to your left eye, as if the pressure would help having a needle jabbed into it. You heard steps come closer to you distantly. Step. Step. Step. A quiet voice. “Hey. Up and at ‘em, Bell. Let’s get you some Zofran before you keep staining the floor.”

Your eyes flew open.

“Woah!” Sims cried.

You skittered back, eyes wide and chest a drum as you fell onto the floor. Not caring if your own fluids got on you as you used your elbows and feet to stay away, head hitting the back wall with the threat of cracking your head open from the force.

Away from the hand that tried to reach out to you, the hand that just ghosted your shoulder, the hand the fed you when you couldn’t yourself back in ‘Nam due to an injury where both your arms were toast, the hand that touched your shoulders, or fingers ghosting your neck when a stray piece of hair got in front of your face, the hand that was to your cheek and pushed you onto the desk and would’ve kept going if not for the mission, the hand that gave you a needle to the eye and tortured you and disguised it as love.

You stared at the hand that was still raised, refusing to meet Adler’s eyes—you can’t, you can’t meet his eyes, that shockingly electric blue only to be met with ice if you looked—your hands clenching tightly on the ground, your jaw clenched as your expression shifted. You turned your gaze to Adler’s throat, steady and burning.

You swallowed as if you can taste it in your imagination.

“Mmm.” Adler’s hand fell and without you even looking, you can tell he’s darkly amused without even having to smirk.“We’ve known each other for years.” “What’s that look for? A bit dramatic.”

“Adler!” Park came to your defense, blocking your view from Adler and Adler to you. (Your mouth was closed, but you played the back of your teeth with your tongue. You rip my heart out, I’ll take your throat. Your chest ached, an oxymoron occurring, your drug addled mind creating a vision of you kissing his throat.) “With Bell’s mind abused as it is, we don’t need your sharp barbs to add to it. She’s suffered enough. She needs to get her energy back for Solovetsky.”

“On that, we can agree, Agent Park.” Adler cooly replied, taking out a cigarette and filling the room with the scent of it. “Just because we’re sitting ducks waiting on Washington, doesn’t mean we can’t set up everything else here on our end. Let’s—“

“—everyone stay in your homes. This is not a drill—“

Everyone started at the German woman’s voice, including you as your eyes went past Adler, past the door, to the radio by the TV you used to play with. (Huh, that’s funny. Russell really doesn’t want to hear Russian from the radio.) You saw the TV turn on, with a ring of a bell, showing soldiers and tanks and—you forcefully turned your head away before you threw up again.

“Turn up the volume, Sims.”

The trio came closer to the radio, Adler’s cigarette being abused as smoke curled above him while you slowly got up and stayed in the doorway of the medical room, eyes downcast.

“There are reports of a virus that are making people violent and aggressive. Some say cannibalistic but do not worry, for government agencies are already on top of it—“

“What? Chemical warfare…?!” Sims tsked, taking his hat off to rub his head and pace away. “I thought we were done with all that in Vietnam!”

“It would be more precisely biological warfare. Since they mentioned a virus,” Park expertly corrected, her mind going a mile a minute despite the injuries she sustained in Cuba. “This must be what Hudson got called to.”

“Bioterrorism.” Adler stated matter of factly, cigarette in his hand before he took another long and meaningful drag. Hiding his stress despite his calm mien. “A bit overkill if this is from Perseus. Right, Bell?”

You weren’t even paying attention to the call of your name, eyes wide as a realization was slowly coming over you.

Did they say…cannibalistic? Your mind flashed to that tunnel to the ground, ignoring Russell’s guidance during that trip to the hell of your mind, where you saw…you saw dead soldiers rise. Is this real?

“—it is not clear yet where this virus came from. But it is worldwide.” The group tensed. “Not only in our area of Berlin, but even in East Berlin. Poland. Italy. Spain. Ukraine. Vietnam. The United Kingdom and the United States. All with the same. People violent and aggressive whoever is infected. Don’t leave your homes or if you found a safe area, stay in it until help comes. Care packages are already being organized for everyone until this lockdown is done—“

Park turned on the TV, you hearing the static before it flashed on, the emergency broadcast signal on and piercing your ears with the alarm. But you can look at the TV now that it is on(not on from your imagination, your mind, “damaged goods.”)

“Find another channel,” Adler commanded, voice growing tense along with his shoulders, but Park was already on it.

Flipping through channels with the same broadcast emergency signal, some with text in the bottom saying the same thing the woman in the radio was, before finally there was one with a camera that was knocked over in the street. All the view they could get was a puddle of blood, of screams and cries and of guttural groans and moans and—is this real? Are you awake? Are you still in the gurney?

“Oh sweet baby Jesus, Mary and ever fuckin’ Joseph!” Sims cursed, eyes blown and wide and you think this is it. Sims therapy sessions and the work they’ve done have gone out the window because the soldier seems to be cracking at the seams, and him holding his head is what’s keeping him together. “Is this shit real?” Before he finished asking, he stepped up to the TV, Park moving to give him way as he changed through channels himself. Showing the same. Except one showed a person on the floor, dead and lifeless but with what appeared to be three people crouched over them and eating their guts, blood around their mouth and disgusting slurps could be heard.

Something was stirring in Adler’s mind, you could tell even from the distance, the way he pauses with the cigarette to his mouth. The way he tilts his head lazily just so in your direction.

Please. Don’t.

“Sims.” Adler called and the call brought Sins out of his fearful stupor, blinking it away and trying to be the soldier he was back in MACV-SOG. “Remind me. What was Scenario 17?”

“What—Russ, you gotta be fucking joking.” Sims made a motion to the TV, pointing animatedly at it as he went on. “You can’t be serious right now. We have more important things going on than the hoops and jumps we did for Bell!”

“Right. But something is itching at me about all that,” Russell toned, casual and that’s where your heart was starting to thunder because it was the forceful casual. Your back met the wall outside the medical room, and you wished to be swallowed in it because no, no, no. “Scenario 17 was one of the scenarios where Bell entered a tunnel which eventually would’ve been one of the paths to enter that red door she created in her mind for Perseus. But something…unknown occurred during it.”

“You mean how she wasn’t following your instructions like the good little American you created her to be?” Park sarcastically quipped, arms crossed. “Shocking indeed. How irritating for the one forced to heel decides to bite back.”

“Funny.” Adler replied, poker faced. “No. I’m talking about what Bell kept saying over and over when it was happening, what she was seeing, until she said…”(“The dead is rising, they’re rising, and chasing me in the tunnels and I can’t see and I can’t—my pistol can’t get them all and the dead killed me! The dead killed me! The dead killed me!” ) Park’s and Sims eyes swam in recollection gazes towards you but that’s not the ones you’re concerned about. Adler turned his shaded gaze towards you and pinned you to the wall. Russell didn’t need to choke you with his hands, his presence felt from a few feet was starting to choke you. “Bell. Throw me a bone here. You know anything about this? I couldn’t help but notice the radio didn’t mention Russia as one of the countries attacked.”

“How would I?” Adler’s lips only pressed together in disbelief, the ghost of disappointment being seen by your eyes and the look made your chest ache but—why are you aching and hurting for that man? (Rip his disappointment out with your hands.) “Please. Believe me, Adler! I don’t—I don’t know why I saw that—I didn’t see any of this mentioned behind the Red Door with Perseus! It—it must’ve been just a nightmare from everything with Vietnam! Please!”

Please don’t do that again, your crying eyes begged, trying to meet his eyes but is it for naught for America’s Monster who smells blood in the water? And what blood you have.

That irresistible Red.

“I wanna believe you, Bell,” Adler began, friendly and walking up to you. (Can someone kill me? Let me out from this nightmare!) “You’re still one of us after all. So I see no reason why you would lie or hold out anymore on us either. But…” Adler stood in front of you, a mere foot away but to you it was as if he was over you in the gurney again, hand to your throat, to your jaw, to squeezing your cheeks together cruelly. “That sounds awful lot like a coincidence. You know my views on perfect coincidences, Bell.”

You’re stuck.

He’s gonna stick you again and Park and Sims won’t stop him. He got them on his side perfectly. Had the perfect set up. (Beethoven with lightning across his face and the keys he pressed created perfected thunder.) Park may be smart, but she can easily become his piece on the board if handled right. (A mere music note in this elaborate play. What a character you are.) And what are you, really? A disposable red pawn that even isn’t supposed to be here.

You’re stuck about getting stuck with another needle and damn it all, you would do the same thing.

“Bell?” Your breath hitched, seeing he was closer and your chests were almost touching, ghosting and his head was over yours and—what you would’ve done to have this before—“Come on. What’s it gonna be?” His breath ghosted your face, nicotine heavy and he must’ve thrown the cigarette down at one point because it’s gone but all you taste and smell is his scent and you looked up, hopelessly lost, despair marring you, that itch of violence deafened when he’s so close—you can perfectly see the shape of his eyes and the color from here and that itch is back, snatch the shades and reach your hands to his eyes and scoop them out— Adler rose a brow above his shades, humored intrigue (there’s something else stirring in those eyes that can be deceivingly soft) as his voice lowered so the others wouldn’t hear. Like a secret. “There’s that look again. Even now, at this very moment, Bell? You should go get checked out.”

You didn’t reply. You couldn’t. (What does he see?) Because there was a shot that rang out outside. Multiple shots. And than crash against the side garage door of the safehouse. All of you jumping, pulse hammering in your necks as you all moved a step. What could it be? Is it one of those dead?

“Y’all better be fucking alive in there and open this fuckin’ door right now!”

You gasp, stilling.

Woods.

▞ ▚

 

▛

 

▞ ▚

A/N: A little peek into Bell’s mind post MK Ultra, LSD, Adrenaline(jeez, how many drugs they laced them with?) sticks and reveal. Mix that with the reveal of zombies and even possibly being the cause for COD zombies storyline—it’s a bad time for Bell. A lot of conflicting voices and emotions in her heart and head.

Adler here, if one can’t tell from past chapters, is really toxic in this story. Epitome of Dark!Adler mixed with “softness”.

I’m not gonna shy away from Park’s and Sim’s roles as well with Bell. We can put all the blame on Adler as a fandom as much as we want, but I blame everyone else as well for allowing him to be so openly harsh on Bell. Hope you enjoyed!

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.

[butterfly-stitches]

INSTINCT.

[ Explicit ] // MDNI

AO3

Pairings: Russell Adler x Bell, Frank Woods x Bell Ensemble: Russell Adler, Frank Woods, Alex Mason, Reader, Bell (Implied Fem!Bell), Helen A. Park, Eleazar "Lazar" Azoulay, Lawrence Sims, Jason Hudson

Warnings: Alternate Universe, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omegaverse, Military Inaccuracies, Medical Inaccuracies, A/B/O Prejudice, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Implied/Referenced Torture, Medical Experimentation, Accidental Knotting, Knotting, Claiming Bites, Animal Instincts, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Scenting, Scent Marking, Older Man/Younger Woman, Hurt/Comfort, Mildly Dubious Consent, POV Second Person, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Summary: Betrayed by your own and left for dead, you were captured and interrogated by the enemy. But you gave them nothing. Desperate times call for desperate measures as the saying went. And by it, the use of MK-Ultra. Melding you into something more manageable. Making you believe that you work alongside the CIA and have known Adler for many years. But what your capturers didn’t expect was the byproduct of transmutation in the after process of menticide. Turning you, an alpha, into an omega. Now Adler and the rest of the team must learn to adapt and adjust to an omega in their military pack. All while trying to stop the puppeteering machinations of a once dormant Soviet spy network led by a man, and your old pack alpha, known only as Perseus.

But having an omega on the team only makes things more complicated than necessary. Especially one so unpredictable and so fresh out of MK-Ultra. An alpha and an omega naturally gravitate towards each other like a binary black hole. And no one, not even a highly desensitized alpha like Adler, can deny their instincts forever.

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

Chapter 1: variable.

Words: 2,272 Summary: In which you are remolded …

“You’re sure?” 

Outside a bright white lab room, in a just as bright hallway, two figures watched from behind a one-way glass window. The tall one had a cigarette tucked in the corner of his mouth, puffing away leisurely despite the building being a smoke-free area. It was well-ventilated enough was his reasoning, stress was another. But the woman next to him didn’t complain nor comment, being an avid smoker herself. 

Nonetheless, the woman beside him nodded at the question.

“I am.” 

The man inhaled, his cigarette glowing brighter at the end with his deep intake. The woman next to him’s answer slowly seeped in his head. It was a heavy thing to process. His fatigue-addled brain only made it harder for him to come to terms with it and the situation that would follow. 

Smoke fell from the man’s marred lips.

“Run those tests again.”

But the woman right beside him didn’t move, shifting the clipboard that she cradled in her arms instead. Pages and pages of test results from various trials, medical and psych evaluations, were fastened to it. But she didn’t need to look them over again to double check and verify what they all indicated. She knew.

“Already done — they all came to the same conclusion.”

The man next to her was silent once more. His cigarette burned idly between his fingers as a thin smoky thread swirled away from the smoldering end. The woman handed him the clipboard, giving him a glance here and there as he flipped through the pages meticulously. Cigarette clamped between his lips as he read through the results. But the man found that it was as she claimed it to be. The test results were indicating the same thing; the subject’s designation status had indeed regressed. 

Wordlessly, the man handed back the clipboard. Pulled the cigarette from his mouth and blew out the smoke with a long exhale, processing it with a newfound clarity. Still staring into the windowed wall from behind his dark aviators. Eyes still dead set on the coroner gurney in the far center of the room.

An alpha turned omega…

Well, that definitely threw a wrench into the works. 

Such a phenomenon wasn't empirically impossible – just extremely rare; intermittent and indeterminable. An idiopathic etiology of menticide in theory. Although not unprecedented. Alex Mason, another hapless guinea pig of MK-Ultra, had suffered the same thing. Over time, throughout the process, Mason’s designation status had wholly changed too. At the flip of a switch, his biology had altered entirely in order to adapt to his new status. As well as the entire rewiring of an already broken brain. But Mason's biological transmutation had not been as drastic as the subject’s. Not as non-sequential; Having only turned from being an alpha to a beta. 

Even the man’s own brief employment with the Advanced Technologies and Applications program in Eastern Kentucky couldn’t replicate or even culminate such results in their human trials and experimentations. Yet he was used to things not all going according to plan, adapting and thinking on your feet was a part of the job. But this… this was more of a major setback than he preferred. Omegas only made things more complex than necessary.

“Adler?” The woman next to him lifted her thin brow at him as he brewed in his thoughts. Concerned by his prolonged silence. But his eyes didn't move to meet her inquisitive look. 

“This doesn’t change our mission.” He informed her. 

“Clearly,” She said, turning back around to view the bright room in front of them. Just like the older man next to her. “But it does make things quite difficult, however.”

Adler exhaled a smoky breath. And, after a moment, asked. “How do you think we should approach this then, Park?”

The woman next to him audibly hummed. Lips pursed in thought as her manicured fingernails drummed on the back of the clipboard. “Well, I suppose we still stick to the plan. With minor adjustments of course.”

“Minor adjustments?” 

Agent Park nodded. “And more precautions, yes. The subject will need a lot more necessities than before. More support, more monitoring. Omegas can be quite… ”

“Needy.” He finished her sentence. 

Park, in turn, gave Adler a look, sharp eyes narrowing. Sensing his surly mood. “ Sensitive . Omegas can easily go into distress if their needs aren’t met, especially if they can’t adjust to new territory. Let alone a new pack. No matter how temporary it will be.”

Adler went quiet again. Half cigarette burned idly between his fingers. He felt the fatigue weigh down on him even more now. The caffeinated surge of energy from his dark roast coffee prior was starting to wear off. And another cigarette wouldn’t hurt as well. 

“Didn’t take you for such an advocate, Park.”

“Only when necessary. It's effective when I encounter stubborn men too set in their ways.”

The beta woman’s goading was lighthearted, he knew. An attempt to nullify the sullenness that was growing palpable in the air. But he brushed it off nonetheless, like a piece of lint on his shirt.

Park eyed Adler. Watched as he pulled his aviators off and rubbed a hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. Massaging at the stress gathered there, where his eyebrows knitted together and his eyes crinkled at the corners. Adler blew out a harsh smoke-filled sigh, hanging his aviators on his woolen vest. The bright fluorescent lighting was starting to make his head throb. 

“Adler. There’s no other contingency plan to fall back onto. In order to get what we need and when we need it, accommodations are necessary whether we like it or not. This is the only way.”

But Adler knew Park was right. To try and construct another course of action would only be detrimental in the long run. Time was going without a hitch or a hurdle. And who was he to ask it to change its nature? Results needed to be made and progress needed to be set into motion. 

“Guess, you’re right. We have no choice but to stick with the plan.” 

“With adjustments, of course.” Park added on.

Adler shifted forward, leaning his weight on the narrow windowsill. His aviators on the collar of his wool sweater vest clunked against the high clearance badge on his lanyard. They both stood there stationary, both occupied with their own thoughts.

“Hudson might burst a blood vessel over this.” Adler then said, breaking the silence between them. 

With a sardonic curl of her oxblood lips, Park only snickered. “Let’s hope so. It beats having him breathing down our necks for once.”

Adler didn’t say much more after that. Only stared into the lab room towards you – the sedated subject strapped to the gurney in the far center. A shallow crease soon appeared between his brows, tongue running across gritted teeth, tracing along pointed canines. 

An alpha turned omega…

How pathetic. 

It was almost pitiful. To witness how far the mighty had fallen. Not just for a Russian loyalist so high on Perseus’ totem pole, but as an alpha. For one’s very nature, one’s entire being to up and change. To crack and crumble under deceit and pressure. From a great redwood that stood tall against the gales only to be felled; whittled down until you were nothing but splinters of firewood. 

Admittedly, he had been impressed at first; Alpha to Alpha, face to face. Understanding of your disposition. Your stubbornness, your aggression, your loyalty to your pack’s idealism. Your piety to your pack alpha: Perseus. Even for a person betrayed by one of your own. Resilient to any traditional methods in their arsenal. Unbroken, unbridled. Even throughout the long hours of interrogation and torture. How shameful you were now. Pliant and pacified. An inferiority before him now. Adler supposed that you were never a true alpha in the end. There was always a weakness inside you it seemed. And such weakness needed to be culled.

But those grievances were more idiosyncratic, a disgraceful thing to his inner alpha. Your subjugation from MK-Ultra made you more useful now. Even if your brain was nothing but pulp and rind in the end. Omega or not, you were a vital asset now more than ever. 

And Adler would make sure to get use out of you. 

He was growing restive. 

Stuck in the office, sitting around all day, and doing nothing but paperwork. For a man of action like Adler, it was a fate worse than death. Like an addict, he was feening; an adrenaline junkie without an arrant dosage of the rush that came naturally within his line of work. What was supposedly a short-term position, lasting no longer than a few days, turned into a week of doing nothing but paperwork. He was a workaholic. But a white-collar worker was an antithesis to his very being. Being idle for so long was eating away at his composure and his patience wore paper thin.

But orders were orders. And protocol preceded him.

Adler had just finished up his tedious workload, eyes stinging from staring at papers all day, when there came a knocking on his office door. He turned just as Park opened the door, giving her a nod as she entered inside his space. The sterile scent of antiseptic and bleach clung to her, overpowering the stench of stale smoke and coffee in the room. A concentrated contrast that made Adler crinkle his nose at it. Feeling an urge to sneeze in order to clear his sinuses.

He watched as Park settled herself across the room, leaning against the filing cabinets in front of the desk. But even from afar, Adler could see her exhaustion. The droop in her usual head-held-up-high posture. Dark bags under her eyes, the blanch of her skin. Noticeable no matter how much Park tried to hide it with concealer and blush.

Adler leaned back in his chair, narrowing his eyes at her. “Any updates?” 

“Yes. The sedation was a success and the subject is recovering fairly well. Just a bit of sickness from being under sedation, largely for longer than was anticipated. But a full recovery is to be expected.”

He hummed. “It lasted longer than I thought.” 

The undercurrent of disgruntlement wasn’t lost on Park, especially as beta. So biologically intuited with the influx of emotions, even the slightest change. The beta woman adjusted the reading glasses on her face. 

“Unsurprisingly. First heats are unpredictable in how long they last. Some last a few days, even weeks. But even after, the heats that follow remain irregular. It takes months before they start to stabilize. Especially without an alpha to help.”

Adler made an interested noise. Mindlessly taking a sip of coffee that had long grown cold. “Seems intricate.”

“Quite so.” The beta woman let out a soft sigh, “But for the subject’s first heat to come so suddenly after MK-Ultra well …” Park paused then shook her head as if to stop her overthinking, “Well, no need to dwell on it further. It’s one less thing to worry about in Berlin. I suppose we were lucky in that regard.” 

“Hm, some are luckier than others.”

Park crossed her arms, eyeing Adler. 

“I suppose so.” She said, “But you know the procedures. You can’t be anywhere near the lab. You’re lucky you were even allowed to work, let alone be at the facility.”

“I can control myself.” He fished out a cigarette carton from the pocket of his leather jacket hanging off the coat rack next to him. “But filling out paperwork and filing it away all day’s not what I signed up for. S’not my job.”

Park smiled. “I think it quite suits you actually.”

Adler’s lips pressed tight, tapping the carton against his hand until a cigarette slid out onto his palm. “Do I have clearance, Park?”

She regarded him for a moment. “You do.”

“Good.” Adler settled the cigarette between his lips. “About time.” 

“You know patience is a virtue. Has anyone told you that, Adler?” Park exhaled out.

“All the time.” He mumbled behind his teeth, thumbing at his lighter. The cigarette in his mouth smoldered, catching the flame. And Adler inhaled. Then blew smoke out in a slow and steady exhale of breath. “But in my experience, patience is nothing but passivity and a goddamn waste of time.”

“As I said: stubborn men too set in their ways.”

Adler only huffed on his cigarette, lip curled at the edge. 

“We leave in a couple days. The subject will be ready before then.”

Park turned to leave but stopped herself, turning on her heel as she looked at the man quietly. “And Adler?”

He canted his head to the side towards Park standing in the doorway. Cigarette resting between his blunt fingertips, simmering low. Lips pressed into a fine line. 

“Happy Birthday.”

She then left with the shut of the door and the click of heels fading down the hallway. Leaving the pristine smell of the lab lingering in the office. Despite its strong scent, Adler found some relief with it. Back on the job and back on the hunt for an entity that had eluded him for decades. He lifted a hand up his face and over his scarred cheek. Delicately, calloused fingers ghosted over the plunging trenches of the Lichtenberg-like scar; a lightning strike incised into flesh. Jagged and complex. Starting from his chin, the rough terrain of his scars branched through his lips and across his left buccal plane like a tree canopy. 

A reminder carved deep into the skin; a failure that Adler would not repeat twice.

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

A/N:

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

[maymaylyn]

Currently working on a steamy Frank woods x reader. Three things; Hudson being an ass, Woods being Woods, and hot make out.

That’s all you need to know.

[quizzyisdone]

Take On Me | Fem! Bell Reader x Frank Woods

A/N: Hi!! I know it has been forever since I post for BOCW and honestly, I miss it a lot. Adult life just doesn't really lend itself well to having creative hobbies (shocking). But here's a little something for Valentine's Day that definitely is not projection at all :) Masterlist Pairing: Fem! Bell Reader x Frank Woods Word Count: 3.2k Synopsis: Woods has always hated Valentine's Day -- it's just a pathetic marketing gimmick for big businesses to take your money and for society to make you feel bad if you spend it alone. Bell, on the other hand, would beg to differ. Warnings: Strong language, mentions of alcohol, Woods is a jackass at one point but don't worry he makes up for it

*Title inspired by Take On Me, by a-ha

You walked glumly down the sidewalk, attempting to avert your eyes from the restaurants that lined the streets, young couples all enjoying a nice Valentine’s Dinner inside. Even the damn weather was romantic.

 Light flurries of snow cascading around everyone, intricate snowflakes landing delicately in your hair and onto your coat. It wasn’t bone-chilling cold either, perfect for a stroll down the street, holding hands with the one you loved. Warm yellowish hues from inside the various buildings emanated onto the street, along with the sound of laughter and idle chatter as well. It would’ve been the perfect atmosphere to set the mood for a date with Woods. The idyllic late winter day.

You clutched the brown paper bag filled with his favorite beer to your chest, careful so as not to drop it. It was your little Valentine’s Day gift, small and inconsequential enough to play off as just a kind gesture and completely not at all related to the present holiday. Admittedly, your feelings were a little hurt when Woods had gone off on a sarcastic tangent about how much he hated Valentine’s Day the other day and that it was just a stupid corporate holiday. 

He was kind of right, but it was still fun to celebrate, at least for you. A nice little date, free from the worries of either of your jobs or maybe at least a gift from Woods would have been nice. You two had never even been in the same state, or even country for that matter, during the holiday since you started dating. 

Maybe missing Valentine’s Day was kind of your fault anyways, since after his little joking tangent both of you agreed not to celebrate or do anything -- it was just a normal day. Ironic, considering a day with Woods could scarcely be considered normal due to your work with the CIA and his with the Marines. A normal day wasn’t getting called into work and both of you just sitting on the couch, too exhausted to truly spend time with each other in a manner other than physically being in the same room.

Truthfully, life had been rather boring lately, your relationship wasn’t missing love per se, but it was missing that old excitement.

You turned off of the street and into the apartment building where you shared a flat with Woods. After climbing up two flights of stairs and finding your door, you reached into your coat pocket for your keys, opening to the door to find Woods putting his own jacket on and grabbing the keys to his truck. 

“Hey babe.” He said, barely giving you a glance in acknowledgment as he tied his boots. 

“Hi.” You said, confused and frowning. You crossed your arms. “Where are you going?”

“Oh, over to this dive bar with Adler, he just got back into town, thought I’d get a drink with him.” Woods explained, none the wiser to how upset you were. You harshly placed down the brown bag. “Uh, what’s in the bag?” He asked.

“Something I got for you. I wanted to do something nice for you.” You crossed your arms and put on the angriest expression you could muster to hide how defeated you felt. He opened it, revealing a six pack of his favorite imported beer, very difficult and expensive to get in America. Instead of a smile and a thank you, he furrowed his brows, frowning.

“We weren’t supposed to get each other anything.” 

“It wasn’t for Valentine’s Day. It was meant to be a nice gesture” You spat, stomping off and into the living room adjacent to the foyer. “Not even a fucking thank you.” You whispered under your breath.

“Thank you?” He yelled from the other room, following you, now clearly just as angry as you. “We agreed not to get anything for each other. I don’t fucking want your gift if you’re just going to be an ass about it.”

“I went to seven different liquor stores across the entire Philadelphia city limit in the snow and paid nearly fifty dollars for a six pack of special imported beer that you’d go through in one sitting because I knew this was your favorite and now you don’t want it. Some gratitude would be nice. ”

“Why would I want it if you’re gonna act like a bitch?” Woods bellowed. ‘Bitch’ had hit a nerve, he had never called you that before, but then again the two of you never got into any bad arguments before. Regardless, you stood your ground.

“Maybe I’m acting like a bitch because your first response was to chastise and question me for getting you a present and now you’re yelling at me.”

“I didn’t even want to celebrate Valentine’s!”

“Maybe I did because I never get to be with you anymore, you’re always too tired or too busy to fucking be my partner.” Your pitch became quieter and you suddenly became aware of the tears streaming down your cheeks in a torrential downpour. “You haven’t touched me in forever. I miss you. I wanted to celebrate it with you, I never got to experience any of this.” You said through clenched teeth.

Evidently, the tears did not sway Woods, as he continued yelling. 

“Well I have and it’s not that fun. Sorry I’m exhausted from saving the entire fucking free world, Bell.” He retorted.

You scoffed.

“Get off your fucking soapbox, Woods. You and I do the exact same thing, and I still make time for you.” You turned your body away from him facing the wall, not even wanting to see him. “It’d be nice if you could do that for me too.”

“I do!” He explained, almost childlike in his declaration -- like a toddler so boldly claiming that the sky was green because he said so. 

“When was the last time you even took me out when it wasn’t my idea?” Woods paused, attempting to remember (to which he couldn’t). “See? You don’t even remember. Go and hang out with your buddy, don’t bother coming back if you don’t want me anymore. I’ll get the hint.” You said dejectedly, walking off to your bedroom but stealing a glance at Woods, who only glared daggers at you, brows furrowed, looking almost annoyed with you. 

You lightly shut your bedroom door the exact moment Woods slammed the front door shut, the vibration of which could be felt against the wall and you could hear a distant clang and glass shatter. You placed your back against the wood, slowly sliding down into the floor and placing your head between your knees, sobbing.

You instantly regretted that ultimatum you just gave him, Woods was the only person you have after MK-Ultra, while he had everyone. He didn’t need you, you needed him. To ground you, to keep you sane.

---------

Woods stomped off to his truck, angrily shoving the key into the ignition. The drive to the bar was erratic and rage-filled, as he gripped the steering wheel with an iron clasp and swore under his breath, muttering counter arguments that he could’ve used in an attempt to justify his actions.

Arriving at the bar, he slammed the door shut, scanning the front of the building for Adler, whom he found almost immediately, nursing a cigarette as per usual. The person who stood next to him, however, utterly enraged Woods. Fucking Hudson.

Despite himself, Woods strided to where they were standing, waiting for him. 

“Hey Adler.” He greeted the scarred man. Adler nodded back in acknowledgement.“The fuck you doing here, Hudson?” 

“Well aren’t you in a great fuckin’ mood.” Hudson retorted, jabbing Woods’s shoulder. “Come on, we can argue inside when we’re sat down and drunk.”

Woods reluctantly obliged him, opening the door and scanning the room for a table, considering the bar was completely full. He found a high top table and sat down, beckoning for a server, for which he ordered three whiskeys and a round of shots for the table. 

Silence ensued for a brief moment before Adler broke it.

“So why the hell are you in a bad mood this time, Woods?” He asked, exasperated in a way that indicated that it wasn’t so uncommon for the sergeant to swing by in a sour mood. Woods immediately went on the defensive.

“The more important question is why the fuck Hudson is here? Don’t you have a wife and kids to celebrate Valentine’s with? She pissed at you too?” Woods spat, and Hudson sighed deeply.

“So that’s what this is about.” Adler chuckled to himself.

“If you have to know, Jenny’s not in town right now,” He explained. “Few days ago she was really upset and needed a vacation, so I told her I’d watch the kids while she went down to her mother’s house for some alone time.”

“Oh and so I guess you just left the kids at home by themselves.” Woods retorted, realizing belatedly that his statement was a bit unfair. For all his faults, he had always known the man to be a devoted husband and father. Hudson rolled his eyes.

“What kind of father do you take me for? This sixteen year old girl down the street needed some pocket money so I’m paying her to babysit them. Happy?” He rolled his eyes and Woods let the matter drop. “So now that I’ve answered your question, what has put you in an even worse mood than usual? Is it Bell?” Hudson asked.

Woods groaned. “Yes, okay? We got into a fight.” 

“About?” Adler beckoned Woods to explain.

“Well,” He began. “So a few weeks back, right? I went off on some rant that Valentine’s Day is stupid and we agreed to not celebrate it. But today I guess she went back on her word and got me a gift and made me look like an asshole for not getting her anything. Then we got into a fight. That’s it.”

“That can’t be it.” Hudson scoffed. This time it was Woods’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Fine.” He huffed. “Words were… exchanged.”

“And what the hell exactly did you say to her?” Adler piped up. Woods rolled his eyes again, slamming his beer bottle down. 

“Fine.” He huffed, beginning to regale every single gritty detail of a five minute fight, seeing as Hudson and Adler would’ve pried everything out of him some way or another. Throughout his story, Woods kept stuttering over his words, pausing, taking deep breaths. He still couldn’t get over that ultimatum. 

“You called her a bitch?” Hudson stared at Woods, his eyes glaring daggers. 

“That was your first mistake.” Adler snickered. 

“No, that was his hundredth mistake. Your first mistake, Woods, was ranting about Valentine’s Day in the first place.” Hudson paused, noticing the very displeased expression of the man across from him. Not wanting to get into a bar fight tonight, he chose his next words carefully. “Hear me out, I can tell you every reason why you’re wrong, if you want. If you don’t, that’s fine. Drink your pain away and let your relationship with Bell go down the drain.”

Tense silence filled the air as Woods retreated back into his head. He certainly hates Hudson, doesn’t think the man does a damn thing right, but he’s been married for the better half of a decade for a reason, right? Woods slowly nodded his head, it couldn’t hurt to hear the man out, and besides, even in his rage, even after the ultimatum you gave him, losing one of the only people he actually cared about was one he couldn’t bear.

“Okay. Well, as we all well know, Bell doesn’t remember anything about her life.” Hudson glanced at Adler, who suddenly found a keen interest in the glass of whiskey in front of him. “And in the past three years, she hadn’t been able to celebrate any holiday other than Christmas last year because of schedules. Everything is a first for her, making it special to her. So your first mistake was ranting about Valentine’s Day.”

“Wh- How?” Woods sighed. 

“Jesus Christ you’re so fucking dense.” Hudson mumbled to himself, rubbing his forehead. “It’s her first and she has someone who she loves dearly to celebrate it with. Probably felt like a gut punch. And still yet, she tried to make it special in spite of you. You practically spat on her for it. You called her a bitch and yelled instead of just accepting it and spending the night with her. That’s all she wanted.”

Oh. Maybe he was onto something.

“You are all Bell has.” Hudson stressed, the way he was explaining the situation to Woods, you would think he has experienced this exact situation. Perhaps he has, Woods did find that break up letter to Hudson from some girl like fifteen or so odd years ago. “And she’s probably feeling pretty neglected.”

“So why do you all of the sudden like Bell?” Adler asked, shame from the mention of what he did to you still painted on his expression.

“I like her well enough, and she’s proven herself.” Hudson took a sip from his drink and laughed softly. “But I like proving Woods wrong more.”

“Shut the fuck up, baldilocks.” Woods grumbled and Adler snorted, while Hudson let out a small chuckle at the creative insult. “I’ve gotta go.”

Unceremoniously, Woods removed himself from the high barstool, fumbling in his pocket for his wallet. He placed a twenty on the table, leaving without a word.

“Y’know he’s never gonna admit that sometimes you’re right.” Adler said, a cigarette between his teeth as he popped open his zippo lighter. 

“I know.” 

__

Woods glanced down at his watch as he approached the door to your shared apartment. It was only seven when he left. Fuck. He hoped you might still be awake. As quietly as he could, with a bouquet in one hand and his keys in the other, he unlocked the door.

“Bell?” He whispered, hoping to hear at least a TV or the radio playing. Instead, it was dark, with only a small glow emanating from the oven light in the kitchen. “Babe?”

No answer. Shit. He set his keys down on the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room and turned on a lamp. Gingerly, he made his way to your shared bedroom, opening the door softly.

On the bed, he found you asleep, facing towards the door and your hand lazily resting on the pillow on his side. He sighed, it was clear you had fallen asleep crying, your eyes puffy and cheeks red even in sleep. Woods took off his boots, setting down the bouquet on the nightstand. 

As stealthily as a man of his size could manage, he crawled into bed, facing towards you. He held the hand that was resting on his side in his own hand, bringing it to his, softly kissing your knuckle. 

“Bell.” He rested his free hand on your hip, rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs. Woods smiled softly as your eyes fluttered awake. Instead of returning his soft gestures, you simply grumbled, taking back your hand and flipping over on your other side. He didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t that. “Baby, I’m sorry.”

“You’re only saying that because you’re drunk. Go to bed, you'll feel differently in the morning.” You said, sniffling and barely audible. 

“I didn’t drink anything. Baby girl, I am so fucking sorry.” He scooched closer to you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you flush to his form. “I’m sorry for complaining about Valentine’s, I’m sorry for the beer, I��m sorry for calling you a bitch, I’m sorry for being a fucking jackass to my girl.”

Silence ensued for a few minutes, only interrupted with your occasional sniffle. You sighed, sitting up and facing towards him. You gave a sad smile.

“Frank, I just want us to be normal.” Your voice cracked as the tears began again. “I don’t want this shitty military stuff anymore. I just want to be a normal couple who does normal couple things.”

“Oh, baby girl. Honey, I am so sorry.” He shushed as he sat up, holding you in his arms so tightly, as if he was afraid you’d shatter into dust and leave him forever if he didn’t. 

“Baby, we can be normal. I’ll take you to the movies, I’ll take you on more dates, I’ll bring you flowers, I’ll win you the biggest stuffed animal at the fair, I’ll even celebrate Valentine’s Day with you.” He kissed your temple, pulling you even closer as sobs racked your body. “Please, I just need you in my life.”

“Please don’t ever leave me.” You whimpered.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, doll.” He held you, strong and steadfast, guilt from the events that transpired earlier sweeping over him. “I couldn’t live without you. God, I’m so fucking sorry, baby girl.”

“Me neither.” The two of you remained there, locked in an embrace and peacefully silent. For hours, you felt as if he was going to leave you, and without him, you’d quite literally have nothing. Without him, you’d have to crawl back to the man that hurt you the most. 

To have the normally gruff, brash Marine sergeant here, admitting to you how much he needed you in his life, it almost felt that for once in your life, that you were a normal person. Not some brainwashed freak.

“I got you a present.” He pulled his head back to look at you. A soft smile creeped across your features. “It’s not as good as those beers you got me,” He reached over the nightstand, presented the bouquet of flowers. “And it took me forever to find, considering every florist was either closed or sold out. But you deserve this, and so much more.”

“Oh, Frank. They’re perfect. Thank you so much.” You gave him a quick peck, looking over the bouquet with a proud smile on your face. Your first flowers from him.

“Bell, I also have a very important question for you.” He smiled earnestly at how your eyes were lit up, just from flowers. You nodded, beckoning him to ask. “Will you be my Valentine?” 

Your happiness turned into straight glee as you practically exploded with joy.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes!” You exclaimed, pushing him down and straddling him. You giggled and peppered his face with little kisses all over as he grinned, chuckling along with you. “Of course I will.” You said softly, pulling back as you placed the flowers on your side’s nightstand. 

You returned to his side, cuddling up flush against his chest as he smiled down at you, like today never even happened. Your hands drew small circles on his chest and you sighed contentedly, this was a feeling that you had missed these past few months. Just you and Woods -- nothing else.

“Baby?” He hummed. You let your eyes close, the threat of sleep drawing ever near.

“M’yeah?”

“We’ll do something more fun tomorrow, okay?” Woods grinned as he also let his eyes close, pulling you even tighter towards him.

“This is good enough for me.” You lazily smiled against his chest.

So needless to say I'm odds and ends But I'll be stumbling away Slowly learning that life is okay