#woods x bell

[animefreak1145]

Church Bells(Adler x Bell!Reader x Woods)

Previous Intel

Eighth Intel | Before

Description:

The world ended for Bell after Cuba.

The whole world followed soon after.

Zombies AU | Drabble Format

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

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

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

 ■ ▞ ■ ▚ ■  “Bell” ■ ▞ ■ ▚ ■ 

Day After Ukraine Mission

16:07 | February 28th, 1981

CIA SAFEHOUSE E9, “DIE LANDEBAHN” 

“You do that a lot.”

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

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

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

You push the hand away, scoffing,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is that what love is to you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But how personable he is? That was different.

It was unexpected.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Doesn’t take guts to punch a prick.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Woods shrugged. 

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

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

Woods rose a brow dubiously.

“Were you even a Girl Scout?”

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

Woods grunted. Yet still didn’t leave. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You felt like something was released from you. 

Unlocked. 

The key was just for someone to ask. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A secret.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t wait for his reply. 

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Adler did a small huff out his nose.

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

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

Stay a ghost or try to be a person? 

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

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

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

…

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

▞ ▚

▛

▞ ▚

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

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

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

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

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

[hedgehogsaretheultimatelifeform]

Woods, after tossing a mannequin to the ground and straddling it: … not a fucking word, Bell.

Bell: … do me next?

[efingart]

Sketch - Happy Birthday Frank Woods

[adlersbitchboy]

The Sailor Song is so Bell x Woods. Specifically the au where Bell survives.

Alternatively it can be AdBell coded if you interpret the song a different way. Or if you just pay attention to some parts more than others.

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

Me when I'm obsessing over a fictional character but they don't have a lot of content so I have to go to wattpad and hope it wasn't written by a 10 year old.

(to be honest though some of these 10 year olds have very good writing skills)

[personinthepalace]

High kick!

Christian Borle and Laura Bell Bundy in Legally Blonde the Musical

[djloveyou3000]

As Bell, Woods, Russell, and Mason were resting during their mission in the jungle, Bell suddenly made a disgusted face.

“Are you okay, Bell?” Mason asked, noticing their expression. Russell and Woods also turned to look, confused and concerned.

“I’m fine. Well, actually, no,” Bell replied, scrunching up their nose. “There’s this horrible smell.”

Everyone paused, sniffing the air. Gradually, the stench hit them, and Russell made the most disgusted face of all. “What the fuck is that?” he gagged.

Mason’s eyes widened as realization dawned, and Woods sniffed and shrugged casually.

“It’s not that bad,” Woods said, clearly offended.

“That’s you?!” Bell exclaimed, equal parts surprised and horrified. “And what do you mean it’s ‘not that bad’? That’s toxic waste!”

Mason snorted, laughing so hard he had to cover his nose, while Russell let out a small smirk before gagging again.

“Okay, you little shits,” Woods growled, removing his boots with a smirk.

The second the boots came off, the smell hit them like a sledgehammer. Bell gagged, Russell looked like he was about to puke, and Mason stumbled back, his face pale.

“You—you ass!” Mason coughed, punching Woods in the shoulder.

Bell covered their nose, shouting, “That’s the most horrible smell! That’s not feet—that’s toxic waste! That’s an atomic bomb! Send that to any country as a threat, and they’ll make you king of the world!”

Russell pulled Bell into his chest, covering both their noses with his hand. “Woods, what the fuck is wrong with your feet? You need to see a doctor for that,” he choked out.

Before anyone could react, Woods yanked off his socks and threw them straight at Bell and Russell’s faces.

Their expressions were priceless. Bell screamed while Russell cursed loudly, gagging as he ripped the sock away. Mason and Woods burst out laughing so hard they could barely breathe, though Mason couldn’t help but feel a little pity for them.

“Woods, you’re dead!” Russell roared, launching himself at the man. Woods took off running, Russell chasing him through the jungle while shouting every curse he knew.

Mason doubled over laughing, wiping tears from his eyes as Bell groaned loudly. “I’m never recovering from this,” Bell muttered.

[stelscribbles]

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!! YAAAY!!! HAVE SOME UH… wait…. belle… lumber….

no….wait. morning… morning wood….? whatever.

BONUS COMIC UNDER THE CUT! ⬇️

[robertphilip]

Not quite the guy I’d have chose to be, but when she’s standing so close to me, I think I like her plan.

[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 ◡̈ ).

[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.

[altcvnningham]

i’d also like to say for anyone wanting short little drabbles or any writing requests related to cod (cod bo6/cw or adlerbell in particular rn) that my ask box is open and i’d be happy to give some a try!! i’ve never done requests before so they likely will be short and sweet but no less full of love.

i am also working on adler stuff here n there (mostly adlerbell/reader!bell) but adhd beating my ass and i’m struggling to finish the 5 wips i have going on all at once :’) but rest assured i will post something at some point skshjsjsj

i’d be happy to accept any asks/requests for:

russell adler / adlerbell

frank woods

troy marshall

sevati dumas

felix neumann

william ‘case’ calderon

jane harrow

helen park

and mostly anyone else from bo6/cw and i’m happy to try any cod mw too!! (my knight!gaz wip is kicking and screaming rn)

reminder please also support your fellow cod black ops fic writers on tumblr and on ao3 bc they are all fantastic and deserve the love!!

[efingart]

"I was just thinking-"

"Hmm?"

"Well we're in Vegas-"

"Yeah?"

"Thought maybe this time you'd say yes-"

LOOK AT THIS GORGEOUS ARTWORK FROM @sleepyconfusedpotato (go commission her she'll make your dreams into art)

I couldn't be happier. It was such a blast to work with her on this too. She really understood my vision and just LOOK AT IT. Thank you so much Sleepy 💙💙💙

Yes, there may be a little fic to go along with this. No, I'm not saying that this is the ending of JWIN. It's just an idea for a happy ending. One where Frank and Mila can relax, go on a road trip (David is visiting his Aunt Dot), and they end up in Vegas. And even though Frank has asked her before, he asks her again if she wants to get married. And this time she says yes. And of course, they get Burger Town afterwards.

[xappetites]

i'm not completely sure what this is i'm just real emotional about Frank Fucking Woods, same universe as this

This is a long time coming. Too long, where Frank is concerned. Thing is, they haven’t had time for it, with the constant driving back and forth to the VA, the hospital, the physical therapy, and the dragging bureaucracy of honorable discharge. Then David started getting nightmares —which is perfectly understandable for a kid his age who suddenly finds himself with no one in the world except Frank—, and Bell’s real good with nightmares.

So it’s been months since Frank’s had this: Bell’s perfect ass in his palms, her laughter in his mouth and the graceless bumping into shit on their way to the bedroom. The little shushed giggle as she tugs the armrest to straighten him down the hallway, freeing the foot paddle from the corner.

Trying to keep quiet is another new thing, since there’s a sleeping child a couple rooms away, but he’s not letting go now that he has his hands on her. In fact, Frank has half a mind to run her over and try carrying her himself just so he doesn’t have to stop touching her. But then she’s opening the door wide for him and this is why he suffers that sadistic fucker of a nurse at physical, so he can still maneuver his ass onto the bed and his own damn pants off when he wants to fuck his wife.

Bell laughs under her breath, kicking off jeans and underwear, moving to straddle him where he finally settles against the pillows.

“What’s so funny, huh?”

“Here.” Her answer is half whisper, half moan and goddamn, she’s already slick for him. She arches, presenting her tits so Frank can manhandle them free and nose at the warm, soft space between them. “For your frown.”

Frank’s cock reacts before he does, so do his hips. There’s a delightful ache in sliding against her, twitching, pretty much on instinct. Pulling at her waist and groaning into her mouth.

“You’re a little minx, aren’t you?”

“I have good reason to be.”

He’s always been a sucker for Bell’s smiles, from way back when he expected to babysit Adler’s shiny new automaton and instead got a toothy grin in the middle of a firefight —that for a long time made him wish he’d just been hit. But the one she gives him, perched in his lap and rocking against him until his cock catches and slides smoothly inside her, spears him straight through the heart.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this.” She says and she’s wearing this ‘home after a long day’ kinda smile, with eyes narrowed so Frank can’t tell she’s tearing up until the drop escapes down her cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

And he’s right there with her, choked up to finally have a minute for just her, the same old Bell squeezing his heart between her pretty palms, no matter how everything has changed.

“You got me, honey. All of me.”

All that’s left of me, he doesn’t say, because it’s depressing when he’d really rather fucking not. What he does manage, comes out barely understandable, pressed against her mouth and it’s a little bit pathetic anyway, but Frank can’t care when she’s chuckling into a filthy kiss and tightening around him.

“Oh, you like that?”

Bell pulls back, laughter turning into a giggle as she wipes the tears. And this time the pressure of her muscles on his cock is purposeful.

“I do.”

“All that cock just for you, huh?”

She bears down at that comment, rides him so slow and deep that she has to shush the very loud groan it pulls out of his throat. 

“The cock and all the rest,” Bell doesn’t falter in the rhythm she starts, works him like her pride’s on the line, “your laugh and your eyes, and the way your beard burns. All mine.”

God, what a fucking sucker she makes out of him. Frank’s never been a man to speak his affections, it’s too much to put on the line, to have his heart out there like that. Especially now that he’s even more convinced that loving the likes of him is poison. So he sneaks a hand between their bodies, shifts their balance with firm circles over her clit and tries to squeeze the truth into a single word.

“Yours.”

Despite his better judgment and not exactly to her benefit, as far as he’s concerned, but it’s true. It’s enough. All it takes for Bell’s orgasm to hit full force. A thing of beauty, dimmed quiet but so intense, her thighs shake. Aching in the pit of Frank’s stomach for a long second because he can’t flip her under him anymore, give those pretty legs a break and pound her full while she melts into the mattress for him.

She laughs, though, breathless. And she kisses him with a sort of manic joy, face glowing and hair sticking to her forehead; picking back where she left off, rolling her hips ‘till he’s emptying himself inside her, panting like a dog and —for a single shining second— content to the bone.

Hers.

Suspended in a moment where it doesn't matter that they’re sort of sticky, staving off the chill only by virtue of clinging to each other. Then Bell climbs off for long enough to get a warm, wet towel that she uses to clean him and herself; before tucking them both in with easy banter. Talking up a storm in what Frank suspects is an effort to distract him until she’s curled sweet against his side.

In the morning, when it’s the sun bright through the window that wakes them, Frank finds it’s the first night David’s slept through without screaming his way out of a nightmare. He lets Bell wash his hair, in the brand new, spanking bench she got installed in the shower. And he figures he’ll find his way through this. Even if it’s embarrassing, even if it’s painful.

For all the shit he’s survived and all the things he can still do, he refuses to let this be what fucking kills him.

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

(this sort of follows the plot of the campaign so it's kind of a spoiler)

Black ops 6 incorrect quotes/scenarios

(after breaking Adler out of prison)

Adler:so where's the rest of your crew?

Woods:what do you mean?

Adler:well I know Marshall provided support while case and the rest of the crew got me out and given the fact the rest of the crew aren't here and didn't get out with us I'm assuming the exiled separately.

Woods:oh no this is all of us,all that in the black site was down to wonder boy over there

(pointing at case)

Woods:wasn't it case?

Case looking up and talking of his headphones:did you say something?

Woods:nah it's all good

Case shrugging and putting his headphones back on:ok then

Adler:woods where did you find this kid?

Woods: picked him up in 81 then he disappeared for a while and found me again a few years ago

Adler:what?

Woods:what?

[personinthepalace]

17 years later, and they still got it 🥺