#adler x stitch

[cass-the-mess]

Was it Real?

Vikhor "Stitch" Kuzmin x Bell!Reader SMUT 18+ MDNI

Photo cred: @pricescigar

A/N: This has been brewing in my drafts since MARCH lol, and I suddenly felt the urge to finish it today so I hope you guys enjoy it!

Synopsis: Bell manages to break out of Adler's mind control early on in the game. She infiltrates the KGB to hopefully reconnect with the current leader of Perseus himself Stitch, angst ensues, old feelings emerge, betrayal happens, they deal with it in the most reasonable way: Shmex :)

CW: Dark themes, dubious content, SMUT, office sex, ex-lovers to enemies to lovers? Stitch is a bad guy ish, possessive sex, degrading, PWP, canon typical violence (this is COD) but not the main theme of this, they're in love but it's complicated because she's a double agent, not really a happy ending but also not a sad ending.

P.S. this one is dedicated to @stararch4ngelqueen because she's great and she makes me wanna keep writing so :)

P.P.S. Dialogue in Italics are flashbacks, dialogues in bold are russian.

You see him right away when you turn the corner of the hallway, his imposing form walking out of the elevator surrounded by some of his most trusted men. The silvery scar tissue cutting through the left side of his face and into his eye adding onto the threatening aura around him.

You remember him, you remember the relationship you had with him before you got taken away and had all of your memories jumbled and carefully rearranged to fit into the narrative the Americans wanted you to be a part of.

Vikhor Kuzmin aka “Stitch”, current leader of Perseus, your mentor, the man who had taught you everything you knew. The man who had made you into the woman you were. That woman was long gone, that thought angered you. You had no loyalties to the American cause, nor to the men who you were currently working for.

Your loyalty to Russell Adler, the leader of this operation, was especially treacherous. You knew what he did to you, the lengths he had taken to turn you against the very people who had built you from the ground up, whatever charade you were currently playing by “helping” him sneak into the KGB to recover intel, was about to end. Sooner rather than later.

You watch intently through the shaded glass of the door you’re hiding behind as Stitch walks through the empty corridor, the armed men at his side posting themselves at strategic points in the hallway as he continues to make his way through the space, not sparing them a second glance, his patterned eyes ice cold and constantly searching and analyzing. The hood covering his head as well as the mask obscuring the bottom half of his face keeping his true emotions from shining through.

Your heart squeezes painfully at the sight of him, you didn’t know where you stood with him anymore, you knew just how important Perseus’ cause was to him, and how loyal to it he was. You doubted he’d ever forgive you, no matter the circumstances surrounding your disappearance, people didn’t just leave Perseus, and if they did, they were found and dealt with. You knew because that was your job, the executioner. The shadow of death, you were the last thing traitors saw before the light left their eyes.

At one point in time, you were his most trusted advisor, his right hand, his friend. You’d spent countless hours with him, the both of you planning, scheming, organizing, a myriad of different operations to spread your influence through the western countries. Most of which had greatly succeeded, you were always five steps ahead of the Americans.

You don’t know when exactly it changed, when your relationship with the stoic, brutal man, changed. When you became something more, when he started looking at you with a glint in his eyes, when his face relaxed a little when it was just the two of you in the same room, or when he started removing his mask around you. Exposing the gnarled, scarred skin of his face to you, letting you see just how truly broken he was.

But you didn’t think he was broken, you saw a man that had overcome challenge after challenge, continuously coming out on top and never giving up. Your respect for him grew, as did your heart. Butterflies swarming your abdomen whenever he looked your way, not needing to say a single word to you, his eyes always speaking so loud in the silence of the room.

Then he started smiling at you, not a full-blown smile, you didn’t think the man was even capable of such a feat, but a small, subtle quirk of his lips. So small you thought you’d imagined it at first. A fleeting curve of his full lips towards you, gone as fast as it had appeared. The memory makes you blush slightly in the dark space of the office you’re hiding in, chewing at your lips anxiously as you wait for him to dispatch the men around him, giving you an opening to talk to him. Hoping your connection plays in your favour, hoping the man won’t shoot you where you stand, knowing that he would, knowing that he should.

Afterall, you’d not only betrayed your cause, but you’d also betrayed him. That realization had weighed heavy on your shoulders ever since you woke up from whatever trance Adler had you in, all of your memories coming back to you in painful bursts, flashes of images blinding you as they assaulted your brain. The pain you had felt as each memory hit you, still sizzling inside you, causing a shiver to trail up your spine.

You take a steadying breath as you watch him through the tinted window, his white, scarred eye, glinting under the artificial light emanating from the fixtures above him. You’d asked him once if he could still see out of that eye, out of curiosity, but also because he seemed to see everything, all the time. Nothing ever escaped him, you wondered how he was able to be so alert with half his vision gone.

“I see.” Had been his curt answer, not giving you anymore detail than that, leaving you to speculate in silence about it, you found it unlikely that his vision had remained intact after taking a knife to the eye, though you supposed miracle stories could happen and he might’ve just been very lucky.

What had surprised you the most though, was weeks later, when you and him had been working together late one night, both absorbed in your respective tasks, you weren’t really paying attention to him, too preoccupied with finishing your own paperwork. He was though, you’d come to learn that he always was, his eyes always straying back to you, no matter how many times he tried to scold himself. You remember it like it was just yesterday, the scene playing out in your mind like a movie. That had been the start of something that meant so much more.

“it’s colour. I can’t see colour.” He’d said suddenly, his voice gruff from lack of use, the heavy Russian accent wrapping clumsily around the syllables of each word, startling you out of your state of deep concentration and forcing you to look up at him, your mouth agape at his sudden answer. The dim, amber lighting of the light above you, bouncing off the discoloured surface of his eye as he looks at you with an unwavering gaze.

“I- is it, weird…? Seeing colour with one eye and not with the other?” You’d replied to him after a beat, your voice coming out unsure as you took a hesitant step towards him, his two-tone eyes following your every movement like a hawk.

He’d never really given you a clear answer, his shoulders lifting in a shrug before dropping his gaze from yours and going back to his work, pensive look on his face as he continued to meticulously organize the papers before him. You didn’t blame him for not answering, hell, the fact that he even talked to you in complete sentences was something to marvel at. Considering he usually only interacted with his men, and even then, he would only really bark orders at them before dismissing them.

He tried though, you could tell he did, his English was choppy at best when he tried to talk to you, sometimes jumping back and forth to Russian when he couldn’t find his words. You’d started to learn Russian that way, and he started to learn English. It was beautiful really, now that you thought about it, he would teach you words in Russian, and you’d teach him the same words in English. He’d get frustrated when trying to pronounce some words and you’d giggle in your sleeve as he grew more and more flustered, the tips of his ears growing red with embarrassment until he huffed out a curse and gave up.

Your throat grows tight at the memory, eyes starting to sting with unshed tears as emotion threatens to overtake you, he was a complicated, brutal man, and yet he was so patient and gentle with you when you were together, his naturally gruff voice growing softer when he spoke to you. It hadn’t always been that way, of course, at first, he dismissed you as just another body in the sea of men he had to direct, not giving you his time of day, and barking orders your way the same way he would the rest of the men.

But then you’d started to make your mark, your work within the organization gaining more and more recognition from your peers, whispers growing and growing until they became a loud roaring in each room you would walk into, eyes tracking your every breath. Soldiers hanging onto your every word like they were prophecy.

He noticed, like he always did, way before everyone else did. Taking matters into his own hands and tracking your progress, reviewing everything you did himself before approving it to be passed down the chain of command, reeling in the few men who thought acting like dogs would get them anywhere but six feet deep with a bullet between their eyes. And so, the whispers started to change, echoes of Perseus’ executioner leaking from the cracks in the walls, men thrice your size averting their gaze when you walked by, in fear of angering their leader, knowing him as the type of man to not make threats, only promises.

He would seek your advice more often, confiding in you and asking your opinion on certain aspects of operations he wanted to greenlight. You’d been privy to the birth of many successful missions, a lot of which you’d tweaked and reworked under his careful guidance, the subtle glint in his eyes growing more and more every time you managed to surprise him, the pride in his voice unmistakable when those plans came to fruition.

One of those nights after a successful mission, he’d finally kissed you, it happened out of nowhere and even he seemed surprised about it. He’d been watching you all night from across the room, ice cold eyes trailing after you as you mingled with men unworthy of your attention, men who had no idea just exactly who they were talking to. His own thoughts surprised him, the sudden possessiveness coursing through his veins startling him and causing him to stiffen up in the corner of the room he was standing in, the men attempting to congratulate him on yet another successful operation immediately backing up at the sight of their leader so wound up.

You weren’t paying attention, not really, the sudden peak in popularity you were going through quite hard to digest at that time, going from “just another body” to Perseus’ Executioner was already taking its toll on you. So when a harsh slap resounded from across the room, startling everyone into silence, you took a second to understand what the buzz was about, your Russian at the time not as fluent as it was now, add to the fact that your brain was fuzzy from the effects of the alcohol you were drinking, the only words you caught amongst the whispers of the room currently staring in muted fear at their leader were “fucking mongrel” and “kill you where you stand.”

He'd stormed out after that, his anger palpable in the now silent room, the man victim of his wrath left to lick his wounds on the carpeted floor of the decorated conference room you were all left standing in, he wasn’t one for parties to begin with, he’d told you as much during one of your many late night conversations, social gatherings made him feel uneasy, especially when they served no purpose.

The remaining guests had slowly started to leave after that, some of them throwing you a questioning look as they walked out, forcing a frown to form on your face, sure you were still considered an outsider to this whole operation but you’d been with this team for months now, your work was paving the way for generations to come, Stitch was the first one to back that statement, his trust in you unwavering.

With that in mind, you decided to follow after him, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible in your endeavours as the fuzziness in your brain started to dissipate from the alcohol you’d been indulging in earlier. His usual hangout place in the late hours of the evening tended to be in a room adjacent to his office, he used it for multiple different purposes, and right now, that room held most, if not all, of your joint findings for future operations. You decided to check there first.

You found him hunched over one of the tables, a piece of paper crumpled in his large fist, his shoulders heaving under the thick charcoal material of his jacket, the hood covering his head doing little to conceal the man’s current emotional state. You took a hesitant step forward, not wanting to startle, or anger him further in the state he was in.

“Vik…?” You’d called softly, the nickname somewhat new and foreign to you, but you’d taken to calling him that when it was just the two of you alone, his alias always felt wrong to say, you were never quite able to put a finger on why exactly you felt that way about him, but when he’d given you his real name after countless nights spent working with you, you’d decided to go with it, accepting the gesture as what you could only imagine meant something far greater to him.

He never did answer you, his hooded head shaking back and forth in the confines of the room, the flickering light above you doing very little in terms of actual lighting, mostly casting shadows on every corner of the room, illuminating his figure but not highlighting any of his features.

He was mumbling something under his breath, the heavy notes of Russian syllables registering in your mind and forcing you to get closer to him in an effort to understand his tense ramblings. He’d heard you for sure, but he was probably too far into his own head to really acknowledge you at this point.

You took another hesitant step forward, coming to a stop next to him, his words sounding clearer now that you were next to him, but your brain still couldn’t find the right associations at that moment, too overwhelmed with the events of that day to make sense of it all.

“Vik- Can you slow down? I can’t make out what-“

He’d turned around then, his bright eyes pinning you in place, his right eye as blue as the iciest lakes of Russia, and his left eye, as white as the tallest peaks of the motherland’s mountains. He rarely held any warmth in them, even when he looked at you, it didn’t surprise you, after all, the man was a product of his environment, and his environment had been nothing but harsh and unforgiving. All in all, he’d come out of it mostly unscathed, a smart and intimidating man with a steel resolve and an ambition for revolution, it was hard to not admire him in that sense.

“Fucking pigs. Have no respect for their superiors.” He finally answered after a long moment of looking at you, his breathing had calmed down some and he was finally able to slow down when he spoke, the harsh, grating sound of his dialect oddly comforting to you.

You frowned at him then, not understanding his anger, closing the distance between the both of you and gently grasping onto the scarred hand that was holding onto the piece of paper you’d seen him crumpling up when you walked in, extricating it from his grasp and straightening it.

Your eyebrows shot up as you carefully unfolded the paper to reveal the source of his anger; a crudely drawn stick figure with pigtails and enormous breasts, bent over in front of a hooded stick figure holding a knife. The drawing obviously representing you and him engaging in something obscene.

At the bottom of the piece of paper you made out the words “Perseus’ whore”, scrawled in sloppy writing, no doubt an attempt at humor from whoever gave this to him. You shook your head as a deep sigh escaped you, crumpling the offending art project and throwing it in the bin next to the table.

“He’ll get what’s coming to him.” You whispered as you gently placed your hand onto his broad shoulders, the soft fabric of his jacket warm under your touch, your head tilting slightly to catch his eyes. “The men closest to us respect me as they respect you Vik, this will not go unpunished.”

“No matter. I will not allow such vile conduct from lowly insects. He will pay with blood.” He’d said, carefully enunciating every word to make sure you understood his meaning well, his voice had grown rougher with barely contained anger.

The tension in the room had suddenly come to a boiling point, you remember the feeling vividly, his eyes had slowly dragged up your body until they’d landed on your face. The intensity he’d held in his gaze at that moment seared in your mind forever. You feel your breath hitch just at the memory, your throat bobbing as you swallow uneasily.

“My executioner. Together we’ll watch the world burn.” He had finally said, his rough hand carefully taking your much softer one from where it lay on his shoulder, fingers intertwining as he’d closed the distance between you and him. His mask long forgotten on the table next to you, he’d probably taken it off when he walked in, chucking it carelessly onto the pile of paperwork currently taking up most of the surface.

You remember smiling at his ruthlessness, the rough Russian words had somehow seemed so romantic to you in that moment. You remember the way his scarred lips had felt as he’d finally pressed them onto yours, so warm in contrast to the cold man they belonged to. You remember the way he’d held you that night, the way his muscular body had felt against yours, the way he’d whispered your name almost reverently in between soft kisses, his body gently crowding yours against the desk, pushing you up onto it so he could fit himself between your legs, his lips never leaving yours.

He'd taken you, right then and there, on the desk. Pushed everything off the wooden surface so he could have access to all of you without restraint. His lips explored your skin, worshipping every inch of it, every scar, every blemish as if the simple touch of his lips would somehow atone for the sins of others against you. The words he’d whispered to you alternating between Russian and English, he wanted to make sure you understood just how much you meant to him.

You’d done the same to him, ensured to kiss every scar you could see, your fingers gently traced the damaged skin of each and every one of them as you whispered your own words of worship to him, the taste of his skin burnt into your DNA, the shape of each of his tattoos engraved into your mind forever.

That night changed everything.

The memory fades, your heart clenches in melancholy at the knowledge that you’ll never be able to regain his trust, his softness, his love. All that you were eclipsed, and all that could’ve been was now nothing but wishful thinking on your part.

Vikhor didn’t forget, most of all, he didn’t forgive.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally dismisses his men with a curt nod followed by a rough command, the armed men hastily retreating to their assigned post, leaving the hallway deserted for the most part and the path to his office clear.

You follow his gaze as he sweeps the hallway himself one last time, the iciness of his eyes as they take in every detail one last time makes your heart beat faster in your chest, and you’re not sure if it’s out of fear or excitement. After a moment his critical gaze lands directly on the door you’re hiding behind, his eyes squinting at the tinted glass as you duck, a curse escaping your mouth.

The majority of his face is hidden by the gas mask he constantly wears outside, coupled with the thick hood obscuring his head, it’s hard to make out his expression as he finally turns around and enters his office, the door clicking quietly behind him. A relieved sigh leaves your mouth, you shuffle quietly, gathering your thoughts and trying to calm the storm raging in your mind as you get closer and closer to what you came here to do.

You hope he’ll listen, at the very least let you apologize and explain to him what happened to you, maybe even believe you when you tell him that your heart never left this place, that your purpose was and still is to be at his side, to rule the empire you helped him build over the years.

You know your chances are slim to none, but a small part of you hangs on to that sliver of hope that he’ll spare you, that he’ll accept the information you bring him. You swallow uneasily as you get up from where you were crouching on the floor, you throat suddenly dry and constricted. Most of all, you hope that he’ll remember his love for you, the love you both shared for one another before all of this went down, before your entire identity was ripped to shreds, before you were ripped from him.

You scan the hallway one last time before opening the door as quietly as possible, your eyes jumping from corner to corner to make sure no one sees you. You know this place like the back of your hand, spent countless hours walking through these very halls, working with some of these people, and yet, you’re nothing more than a ghost now, another soul lost to the cause, another name whispered, another body never recovered.

You step carefully, gracefully to his office, the blinds behind the tinted window are always closed and today is no exception. You strain your hearing in an attempt to decipher what he’s doing behind the closed door, nothing reaches you but dreadful silence. You grasp the door handle with a sweaty hand, fingers shaking as they wrap around the cold metal, your breath quickening as you slowly turn the handle and push open the door, one foot stepping in before you stop dead in your tracks, your eyes widening.

The sight before you is enough to make your stomach drop, you see the man you love lounging behind his desk, relaxed as ever, one foot propped on top of it, the heavy military boots he wears resting on the worn wood as he stretches his body out. His right hand wrapped around his gun, the metal glinting menacingly in the dim light of the room as he slowly rocks the weapon back and forth in his hand, dragging it over the surface of the desk every so often.

His other arm hangs on the side of the chair, out of view. His head is inclined slightly to one side, eyes pinning you to the spot as he glares at you with an intensity you’ve only ever seen directed at insubordinates within his ranks. The sword of Damocles hanging over your head in the very room you’d engineered Perseus’ most successful hits.

You open your mouth to speak but no words come out, your breath rushes out of you as you try to find your footing.

“Close the door.” He finally says, his English rusty and broken, his eyes unwavering as he tracks your every move like a predator waiting to pounce. You fumble with the door for a moment before finally closing it.

“Lock it.” He tells you, his voice coming out as growl and forcing a shiver of uneasiness to trail up your spine, every fiber of your being telling you to run, to get away, to save yourself before it’s too late.

“Vik-“ You start quietly as you turn around to face him, not moving from where you stand in fear of angering him further.

“Vik? After all this time?” He interrupts you roughly in Russian, his tone dripping with venom and disdain at your use of his given name. You miss the way he flinches at your voice, the lighting in the room too dark to perceive the slight reaction.

“Please listen to me, I promise- I promise this isn’t what you think it is.” You answer back in Russian, your voice quivering with unshed tears as you take a hesitant step towards him, imploring him to find it in him to listen to what you have to say.

“Do you know how many men I have looking for you, executioner? Do you know the price there is on your head right now, my love?” He spits that last part at you like the word leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, like he can’t believe he ever called you that to begin with.

He gets up then, slowly, confidently, his foot slowly dragging across the desk before falling heavily on the floor with a dull thud, the weight of it making the desk tremble slightly. The barrel of his gun drags against the wooden surface as he slowly rounds the desk to come face to face with you, standing well over a foot above you.

His smell assaults you then, clean linen and a hint of fresh mint overshadowed by gunpowder that sticks to every piece of clothing he owns. A smell that was once familiar and comforting now eliciting a shiver of fear in you, pale eyes that once held your entire world now only hold anger and hurt, a hurt that runs so deep you feel your heart crack under the weight of his gaze.

“I’m sorry Vik, I’m so fucking sorry, you have to listen to me please-“ You whisper as your voice breaks under the torrent of emotion raging through you.

“The Americans, they took me, they experimented on me, forced me to forget everything, made me into their puppet so I could feed them information on Perseus.” You tell him, stumbling over your words as you try to make him understand what’s at stake. His eyes harden, the scar running through his left eye looks even angrier like this, the usually pale blue of his right eye now looks almost black as anger simmers in it.

You swallow uneasily as cold metal presses under your chin, forcing your head up and straining the muscles of your neck.

“And? Did you? Did you betray us? Did you betray me, my love?” He whispers as he presses the cold metal harder against the delicate skin there, the heat in his gaze igniting something inside you, it feels wrong, so fucking wrong but you can’t help yourself as a whimper escapes you.

“No. No, I- “ You swallow uneasily as you try to keep your head upright and your gaze on his, refusing the let him see how scared you are.

“I told them nothing, I invented false leads to throw them off your scent. I convinced them to let me come here to get information because I wanted to warn you- They’re coming Vikhor, they want your head, Adler wants your head.” At the mention of Adler his other hand shoots up to wrap itself around your neck, pushing you against the door violently, the hand holding the gun lets go suddenly, the weapon clattering to the ground.

His now free hand comes up to his masked face, ripping away the constricting contraption to reveal more of his scarred flesh to you, his full lips pulled back into a feral snarl as he lowers his head to your ear. “You’re telling me Russell Adler is outside this fucking building waiting for you to bring him intel on ME?!” He rasps out in a deadly whisper, the hand around your neck tightening as he slaps the other one against the surface of the door, making you flinch.

“No. Not here. I’m alone, I promise I came alone, they trust me, I made them believe they could trust me. You need to move to a different location NOW Vik, I’ll give them a random location to give you time to get your men mobilized but you can’t stay.” You reply, one of your hands closing gently around the one at your neck, squeezing gently, reassuringly. Your eyes pleading with him, trying to get through the thick layer of ice between you and him.

He smirks then, his lips twisting in a deformed grin, exposing perfectly white teeth from the corner of his mouth as his hand loosens and his thumb slowly drags across your lips, his breath fanning across your cheek as a humorless laugh escapes him.

“I should fucking kill you, make an example out of you, discard you like the dog you are.” He whispers seductively, his eyes fixated on your lips as his thumb continues to rub gently across the delicate skin there, trying to coax your tongue out to wet them.

“Vik-“ You whimper breathlessly, your heart beating wildly in your chest.

“No, instead I think I’ll let you continue on this mission of yours, you keep feeding them faulty information and you keep giving me information like the good little bitch you are, and maybe, MAYBE, I’ll let you live.” He growls out, his lips now dangerously close to yours, a wicked glint in his eyes as his tongue pokes out, dragging across his own lips as hunger starts burning through the glaciers nestled in his eyes.

His mouth is on yours then, he’s kissing you like he’s never kissed you before, desperation driving his every move as both of his hands cradle your face, one of his knees pushing your legs apart, forcing your core against his clothed thigh, the thick muscle under you flexing to accommodate you.

Your own hands grab onto the sides of his face, his strong jaw speckled in stubble, the rough texture of it making you moan into his mouth, giving him the perfect opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue meeting yours for the first time in almost a year. A guttural groan escapes him at the taste of you, his desperation increasing tenfold as he suddenly scoops you up, one hand securely around your waist, while the other grabs a handful of your ass, encouraging you to wrap your legs around him.

You hear commotion as he drops you on his desk, his lips never leaving yours as he sweeps everything off the wooden surface, in one swoop all the clutter occupying his desk is sent flying across the room, you hear what you assume is a mug, shatter as it hits the floor.

His hands are grabbing everywhere at once, pulling at your clothing as he tries to get as close as possible to you, his need presses insistently against your stomach, pulling a moan from you as you try to move against him, your own delirium getting the best of you, all previous thoughts or worries gone from your mind as you finally feel him against you once more.

“Need you, Vik, please” You whine out, your hips straining towards his for any kind of relief, the Russian words coming from your mouth in such a needy manner pushing him into a frenzy, his hands dipping under the fabric of your shirt, pulling away from you just long enough to tear the piece of fabric off of you, exposing more of your skin to him. His hands immediately going to your breasts, pulling the cups of your bra low enough to expose them.

“Shut the fuck up, don’t say my name like that, not when you ripped my entire fucking heart out when you left, not when you left and took my soul with you. I couldn’t fucking think without you, I can’t fucking live without you.” He growls out, his voice betraying him as it cracks with emotion at his own admission.

Your answer comes as a moan as his lips wrap around one of your nipples, tongue curling over the sensitive bud, your hands tighten around his neck as you throw your head back in pleasure, hips grinding against his pulsing erection, the friction not nearly enough to provide any relief through the thickness of both your pants, you let out a frustrated cry at that, deciding to take matters into your own hands, you slide your fingers down his muscular chest, the wild thumping of his heart vibrating through your skin.

You reach his belt buckle a few moments later, nimble fingers working through the loops of his belt in quick efficient movements, finally freeing it. You hurriedly unzip his pants, his hips push into your hands as he continues to explore your skin, kissing and biting every inch of exposed flesh, making you his once again, making sure you’re real and not just a figment of his imagination.

When your hands finally wrap around the thickness of him, his forehead drops against your sternum, a grunt escaping his mouth as you slowly pump his length, your own mouth leaving a trail of sloppy kisses along his jaw, his name like a prayer on your tongue, reassuring him that you’re actually there, that you’re real, that you love him.

“Can’t- can’t wait. Need you, right here, right now.” He breathes out, his hands fumbling with your pants impatiently, almost tearing them in his haste to get them off of you, not even caring to remove them completely.

“I’m here, I’m here my love, take what you need.” You whisper reassuringly, your lips catching his in another kiss as his big hand cups your core, fingers dragging through your arousal before pushing one thick digit inside you, the tight ring of muscles relaxing around him as he starts thrusting his finger in a steady rhythm, more of your arousal leaking out around his hand.

You push your face against his clothed shoulder to muffle the sounds you make, not wanting to get caught, your teeth sinking into the thick layer of muscle when he adds a second finger, the soft squelching of your wetness resonating throughout the dark room, coupled with the soft curses leaving his mouth occasionally as you continue your own assault on him, precum leaking steadily from his tip and onto your hand, making a mess of his own.

“Always so fucking wet for me aren’t you? Even when you betray me, this pussy knows who it belongs to.” He growls possessively in your ear, his movements growing more relentless as you start clenching around him, the degrading statement only adding to your growing arousal.

You cum suddenly, violently around his fingers. Tears spring to your eyes as you throw your head back, a broken half sob, half moan escaping you as he continues to thrust his fingers slowly inside your pussy, your legs shaking from where they’re still hooked around his waist.

His fingers slide out of you, forcing a hiss from you at the sudden emptiness, but the feeling doesn’t last long, you feel the thick head of his length pressing against your opening, the familiar feeling causes a shiver to rip through you.

“Look at me. Wanna see you when I make you cum.” He commands, breaching you with a steady thrust. You struggle to keep your eyes open at the onslaught of pleasure overtaking you, your eyesight blurry from tears of pleasure threatening to spill out, but you nod clumsily, one hand twisting into the material of his sweater when he starts working himself deeper into you, his breathing growing ragged at the feel of you taking him deeper and deeper with each thrust.

You lose track of the words coming out of your mouth, Russian and English coming out as a jumbled mess, different variations of his name as well as pleas to let you cum fade into one another, his hips stuttering every so often when your voice cracks around the syllables of your prayers to gods who gave up on the both of you long ago.

His hands end up around your jaw once again, the roughened skin holding your face softly as his piercing eyes hold yours, his own jaw clenched hard enough to make the vein on his forehead jump with strain as he wrestles with his feelings and with the pleasure coursing through his body, wave after wave assaulting his senses like an unrelenting storm.

When your release comes, it’s an all-consuming inferno, the muscles in your core collapsing onto the heavy thickness of him within you, forcing his thrusts to turn erratic in turn. Your head thrown back in a silent scream as you soak the desk beneath you with the proof of your pleasure, a pleasure that gets stretched out as he chases after his own release, pumping into you with abandon, strong hands holding onto your head as his own eyes roll back into his head as he finally cums deep inside you.

You both lay there panting for a moment, your minds reeling, your hearts clenched tight with emotional turmoil, wanting to stay here forever, and wanting to disappear at the same time.

When he finally pulls out, a hiss escapes him, his eyes fixated on the evidence of your coupling slowly leaking out of your abused cunt as he tucks himself back into his pants gingerly, the mask of tense indifference he wore earlier falling back into place seamlessly.

“Go. Grab your shit. I’ll find you when I’m ready.” He grunts, turning around and exiting his office without another word, leaving you there.

#call of duty #call of duty cold war #stitch call of duty #vikhor stitch kuzmin #bell call of duty #fanfiction #Stitch x Bell #Stitch x Reader #russell adler #adler call of duty

[littlemissclandestine]

Why I think Russell Adler is going to make a comeback in COD 2024

WARNING⚠️: Contains spoilers for Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War and Call of Duty: Black Ops 2

Disclaimer: This is all just speculation on my behalf of course. I've just tried piecing stuff together for fun because Russ is one of my fave BO characters even though he's a bitch but i need more Adler content stat. <33

Let's get into it peeps. HEAR ME OUT.

Buckle up. Gonna be one hell of a ride folks 🤪

We'll start off with some random/background info.

Russ was born on February 12th 1937 so that would make him 53/54 in the Gulf War era. This actually isn't that old because if you think about it, Woods was about to turn 51 in 1981 during the Cold War campaign. What's a few more years?

We last saw Adler in action post-campaign in Warzone 1.0 cinematics but we've been kept in the dark about Adler's whereabouts post-1984 (after being brainwashed and killing Stitch LOL).

This meanie in a beanie wasn't forgotten about, oh no. He appears in the new cinematic intros on startup for both MWII (2022) and MWIII (2023). See below:

He was also featured twice in the 20 year anniversary video for Call of Duty whereas COD Ghosts didn't even get an appearance (ouch): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eL_w5HmxsPI

I personally believe Adler was a great addition to the Black Ops roster and is essentially the new Black Ops 'cover boy' now. Would be such a shame and a missed opportunity not to include a character like him in the upcoming COD. One who is morally grey, does whatever he deems necessary to get the job done - a bit like Cpt. Price in MW. Got the COD fans riled up about him brainwashing and pulling the trigger on Bell too - he's already got the spotlight in both a good and bad way.

Now, let's explore my main reasoning as to why I think Mr Shades 2.0 is most likely coming back in late 2024...

🎖️First up: Gulf War mission list 🔫

Here are some of the campaign missions that will be featured in Black Ops Gulf War. Obviously, this is subject to change, however, going off what we have, look closely...

Credit: @MWIIINTEL on Twitter/X

Safehouse guys...SAFEHOUSE. Takes you right back to Cold War, doesn't it? Ugh the potential.

🕵️ Next up: The campaign for COD 2024 will dive into the CIA's role/the Black Ops timeline 🕘

I took the following snippet from this official article.

From this, we know there will be a huge focus on the CIA and who's a CIA clandestine special officer? Mhm, you guessed it - Russell Adler.

Now, according to the events of BO2, it's evident which characters have the possibility of returning out of our original BO trio - Jason Hudson, Frank Woods and Alex Mason.

💫 Alex is presumed dead after Frank shot him so he's out the picture in '90/91 until 2025 when they canonically meet again.

🪵 Woods would be in his 60s during this time too so I'll let you decide whether that's too old for him to be in GW.

Edit: Woods got SPAS-12'd in the kneecaps on Dec 20th 1989 by Raul Menendez so uh...yeah

🧊 Hudson died on Dec 20th 1989 at the hands of Raul Menendez.

Feel free to check out this website (Call of Duty Wiki) for an outline of the events after CW to remind yourself. Here's a link to the Black Ops timeline from there.

➡️ Gulf War being a direct sequel to Cold War and what that could mean 💉

That brings me onto the rest of the safehouse crew. Since GW is a direct sequel to CW, it would make sense for some characters to carry over if possible:

We, as the player/Bell, get to choose whether Park or Lazar die (or both lovebirds) in 'End of the Line'. It's highly unlikely they'll return unless the devs make one decision canon maybe.

There could be a chance we see Sims again given his bond with Adler (Da Nang etc.), his age (late 40s in GW) and his status (alive).

That leaves the man himself, Russ. Everything from his age to the fact he's CIA and was the deuteragonist in COD 2020's campaign just makes sense for him to have at least a lil cameo or even a larger role, don't you think?

📱Finally: Hints from official posts 🔎

This post from Call of duty's official Instagram account kind of sealed the deal for me.

Oh lookie - they dropped syringe-lover's famous line in a zombies post. Why would COD just drop it so casually like that without a reason and years after since CW came out? They could've said absolutely anything else but no, this was purposeful.

And that's all for this episode guys and gals!

Thank you for reading!! 🫂

Do what you will with all this information but I have concluded in my silly little brain that scarface is coming back.

How he's only in one game is beyond me. Won't get a character like him ever again. Seems like a cliché war dude at first glance but dig a little deeper into the details of the CW campaign, peel back the layers and get into his psychology and WOWZERS.

Am I delusional? Most definitely.

But the possibility he might be returning...that little bit of hope is enough for me and i won't shut up about it.

This will age horribly if he isn't in GW. Forgive me for feeding your delusions too in that case. Please?

What are your thoughts? Feel free to share them! 😊

#this took forever rip #but you see where i'm coming from? #might do a part two if anything else gets leaked #Star's bottomless waffles ☆ #call of duty #cod #black ops cold war #black ops 2 #alex mason #frank woods #russell adler #jason hudson #black ops gulf war #cod cw #cod cold war #call of duty black ops #call of duty cold war #cod 2024

[andydrysdalerogers]

Sliding Into Home ~ Maybe I Should Have Ducked?

Pairing: MLB!Frank Adler x Abigail Hernandez (OFC)

Synopsis:

After a trade from Boston to Los Angeles, first baseman Frank Adler would seem to have it all. Money, women, an amazing niece, yes Frank should have it all. Except for one thing. One thing that left after a mistake five years ago. Los Angeles should be the chance to start over. Except she is supposed to be in Boston. Not his new medical director.

* A Frank Adler AU x Major League Baseball Story**

Warning: ANGST (i can't stress this enough), second chances, cheating, S~M~U~T!!, slow burn, drug use, abandonment issues, betrayal, domestic violence (i may have missed some), flashbacks

Dividers by me

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Previous: Wanna Feel Safe Again

Sliding Into Home Master List Main Masterlist

San Francisco is usually beautiful in late Spring. The air wasn’t sweltering yet, the flowers were in bloom.  

And the rivalry with Los Angeles was in full swing.  

Frank gritted his teeth at the thought of having to see Bobby Fuller again.  That asshole had been traded two years after the Vegas incident and he and Frank had been at each others throats during that time. So seeing him with the Giants was hard.  The Dodgers would be playing the Giants more often than he did with the Red Sox.  

During the first inning, there was almost a full out brawl when the pitcher almost hit Frank in the head with an errant pitch. Frank got into his face but never made a violent move.  The benches were  given a warning and play continued.  

Abby sat in the dugout as the trainer on the field, a responsibility that she enjoyed because not only was she involved with the team, but she was also close to Frank.  They didn’t interact much, knowing the TV cameras were everywhere, but Frank gave her a side smirk every once in a while, allowing the butterflies to gather in her stomach. When he could, he gave her a gentle touch, so she knew he was there.  

It seemed the game calmed down for a few innings until the top of the sixth.  Frank was back at bat and observed a pitching changeup.  The new pitcher, Smith, stopped to hear something from Fuller and then warmed up. Frank was curious but he let it go, concentrating on the pitch. The first one was low and inside, the second was away.  Frank smirked. He knew he just needed to be patient.  

Except when the fastball went wide of the box. And bounced off of Frank’s hand and into his face.  

He dropped to the ground, not moving. Abby grabbed her bag and followed another trainer out to the field. “Adler? Frank? Can you hear me?” Abby looked at Dave, the other trainer. “We need to move him. Get the brace.”  After fitting Frank with the neck brace, Dave and Abby carefully turned him over. “Oh Frankie,” she whispered.  

Frank had blood coming from the side of his face. “Fuck,” he moaned.  He blinked. “Cricket?”  

“Oh thank God. Let’s get the backboard,” she ordered Dave. As the EMTs came in, she smiled down at Frank. “If you wanted my attention, there are other ways Franklin.”  

“Full name treatment. I’m an injured man Cricket.” He smiled but immediately grimaced. Johnny came over to check on him.  “Hey man.”  

“Adler, jesus, are you ok?” 

“Maybe I should have ducked?” 

Abby smacks his shoulder. “We’re gonna get him checked out Storm.”  They loaded him to a cart as the crowd in San Francisco clapped and Frank gave a wave.  

The ride to the hospital was quick and Abby spoke with the attending physician to advise what happened.  She stood back in the examination room as the doctors on call checked him over.  The lead doctor came to speak to Abby. “Dr. Hernandez, it looks like Mr. Adler has a very minor concussion, a contusion on his face that will require a couple of stitches and a broken pinkie finger.  My recommendation is three weeks of healing.”  

Abby let out a sigh of relief. “That's better news than I had hoped for.  I agree with your assessment.  I will let the team know. Thank you so much.”  

“We can release him in your care today but no flying for 48 hours. Let me know if you need anything else?” 

“Just copies of his records for the team.” They shook hands and Abby went to Frank. “How do you feel about a small vacation?” 

“That bad?” 

“Broken pinkie, a small cut that needs stitches, and a small concussion. The League is putting you into concussion protocol, which is two weeks and the pinkie will need an extra week.  I’m sorry love, but three weeks on the injury reserved.”  

“That’s all of June,” Frank whines as he leans his head back.  Abby runs her nails through his scalp gently and he lets out a hum of contentment. “Will you stay with me Cricket?” He looked at her with puppy eyes.  

“I will have to work a little but yes, I can stay with you.”  

“What about...” 

“He’s back east with the firm. He took a case over there that will last about a month.” She bit her lip. “We’ll be fine.”  

Frank kissed the inside of her wrist. “I love you.”  

“I love you.  Now, let’s get you discharged and to the hotel. I need to let Todd know your status and have another trainer join the team for the rest of the trip.”  

When Frank and Abby arrived back at LAX, a teary Mary and Scott were waiting for them.  Mary ran up to Frank and he scooped her up with his good hand.  She cried into his neck, and he tried to sooth her. “Hey Nugget, its ok, I’m ok.”  

Mary pulled back and squished his face between her small hands.  She pushes his head around, inspecting the cut and his eyes. “Frank, you scared me.” She pushes his lips to make him smile. “You’re smiling.”  

“Yeah, I scared me too.  But Abby took good care of me.”  He flashed a soft smile to Abby before Mary launched herself into Abby.  

“Thank you, Abby, for taking care of Frank.”  

“Always Nugget. I’ll always take care of my family.”  She put Mary down so Frank could take her hand and she turned to Scott.  “How bad?” 

“She cried until you guys called. It was pretty scary.” Scott huffs.  “If he wanted your attention...” 

“I did not do it to get her attention,” Frank growled.  “If I wanted to get her attention, I would just need to show her my...” 

“Franklin!” 

Scott snickered as Frank groaned.  “Franklin, that’s so lame,” Mary says.  

Frank looks at Abby, who blows him a kiss. He shakes his head but returns the gesture as they make it out to the car.  Getting home, Frank gets to the couch and leans his head back. “Are you in pain Frankie?” 

“A little, Cricket.” He grimaces. “Just feel pressure behind my eyes.”  

“Yep, that’s the concussion.” Abby reaches for her bag and takes out a couple of tablets. “Here, let me get you some water.” Scott comes around with a bottle of water and Frank looks at him gratefully. He swallows the medicine and tries to close his eyes. “Baby, if you want to sleep, you should be in your room with the curtains closed. You’ll feel better, promise.”  

“Will you lay with me?” he asked pathetically.  

“Sure love.”  She helps Frank up and into his room. She gets him down and curled up against him. “Better?” He nodded and closed his eyes. “Rest, my love.  I’ll be right here.”  

The next ten days were calm with Frank still recovering from his concussion. On day 12, he became restless. He woke up with his Cricket in his arms, her butt right up against his pelvis. Christ, her ass is perfect, he thinks. He lets his hand wander down, dipping below her panties. She sighs in her sleep, but Frank wants to wake her up. He pulls her leg over his hip to open her up and lets his fingertips dip into her folds. Fucking wet and warm for him, like always. He slowly sinks a finger in.  

“Frankie,” she moans softly. “Baby, your head.” 

“It is clear as ever Cricket. Can I have you?” She nods and Frank smiles. He adds a finger and pumps at a steady rhythm. She cries out quietly and he palms her clit.  He brings her to the brink and watches as she shatters in his arms.  

“Need. More,” she pants.  

“Whatever you need Cricket.”  Frank pushes her panties down her legs and then pushes his own boxers down, grasping her knee and pulling it back over his hip.  He let his tip dance around the remnants of her release before slowly pushing in. She purrs at the stretch, and he gives a low chuckle.  “Can you be quiet for me Cricket? Can you be a good girl and be quiet?” He feels her nod against his ear. He pulls back and rocks back into her and he can feel her hum at the sensation.  “Good girl. Such a good fucking girl.”  

Abby is lost in the sensation of Frank taking her apart slowly. He isn’t rough or fast, just taking his time, making her feel everything. She whimpers at a particularly deep thrust into her womb but she doesn’t cry out. “That's my good Cricket,” he whispers, making her clench around him. “Didn’t realize you have a thing for praise, my love.”  

“Frankie,” she whispered. “Don’t be cruel.”  

“Never, my love.” He ran a finger down her skin until he met her clit.  He rubbed slowly, feeling her build around his cock. “Are you almost there? I know you are, can feel it.”  

“Yes,” she gasped. He didn’t stop until she shattered, seeing stars as he pumped in one, two, three and released inside of her with a low groan.  

“I love you.”  

“I love you more.”  

“Not possible.”  

“Let’s take a trip.”  

Abby looks from her coffee. “What?” 

“Let’s go on a trip.  Nug has her trip to DC this week, Scott’s heading back to Boston while she’s gone. I can’t stare at these walls anymore Cricket.”  

“You’re on injured reserve Frankie, you can’t just take a trip.”  

Frank pouts and gives her puppy eyes.  “Please?” 

“Oh so you think that just giving me eyes and a sweet little please is going to change my mind.”  Abby turns back to her computer with a scoff.  She misses Frank coming from behind her and sweeping her curls off of her shoulder.  He presses sweet kisses to her neck and shoulders, watching her lose her head and tilt back, exposing more of her.  

“I can stop, my love, and just go back to the couch.”  

“N-no.” She closes her eyes as her hand cups the back of his neck.  She can feel his smile against her skin.  

“Just a few nights. Please.”  

Abby starts to lose control of her gasps. She knows she needs to be quiet but the sensation of his lips on the column of her throat is one of the best she’s ever felt. “Ok,” she whispers as he nips her gently. “Fine, where do you want to go?” 

After Mary is dropped off with the school for her trip, Frank heads to the airport to drop Scott off for his flight to Boston.  “Have fun Frank,” he said with a wink.  

“You too Scott.” He gave him a hug and walked back to his car.  As he drove away from LAX, a sign blinked at him and an idea hit him. It was time, he thought to himself. He messaged Abby.  

Frank: pack for the heat  Abby: Why?  Frank: I want to take you somewhere and it will be hot.   Abby: I hate being hot.   Frank: Humor me  Abby: 😑 Fine.   Frank: Love you. 😘 

Abby packed her suitcase, smiling at the message Frank sent when another popped up 

Mike: How’s the road trip?  Abby: Fine.  Mike: I miss you  Abby: You too  Mike: I’ll be home in a week.   Abby: Ok, I’ll be home 

“Fuck,” she muttered.  She hated that she hadn’t had the nerve to just break it off yet. She was just scared of Mike’s reaction. Abby wasn’t normally a confrontational person.  The last time she was hostile, well, she lost Frank. The memory made her sad. When she heard the door open, she shook it off and closed her case.  

“Hey Cricket. All set?” Frank’s excitement was in the air.  

“Yeah baby, I’m all set.” Abby smiled as she wrapped her arms around his neck.  “Gonna tell me where we are going?” 

He kissed her nose. “Nope. Let’s go.” He grabbed her bag and his and headed to his Camero.  

“I can’t believe you still have this car.”  

“I can’t believe you would think that I got rid of it.” Frank started the car and headed out. “This is my prize for getting drafted.”  

“And here I thought that was me,” she replied without a thought. Frank smile dropped a little. He swallowed, wondering if this road trip idea was smart. He stayed silent, thinking about all the details and hoped that she would listen.  

A few hours later, Abby’s face was in disbelief.  Frank had taken them to Las Vegas.  She didn’t know what to say. Why would he bring them to the very place that had broken them?  Having never been to the city herself, she was awestruck at the lights and sounds.  Frank pulled into a fancy one, the Bellagio and had the valet take their car and bags.  He held her hand as they walked into the lobby.  Abby gasped as she took in the glass flower ceiling. “Wow.”  

“It is beautiful,” Frank commented. “When the team had come out here and we were walking around, I remember thinking that you would have loved this.”  

“Is this... is there where...” 

“No Cricket. I will never go back to that particular hotel ever again.” Frank checked them in and a hotel concierge walked them to their room.  “This is one of our high roller suites, sir.  If you need anything just call the desk and someone will be right up.”  

“Thank you.” Frank tipped the man as Abby took in the room.  It faced out to the strip and she could see the other hotels. Suddenly, what sounded like a cannon blasted water up in the air and the fountain began to dance.  

“The fountain,” she squealed as Frank chuckled. She could faintly hear the remnants of a Frank Sinatra in the air as the towers of water began to dance.  When it ended, Abby clapped. “That was amazing.”  

“It says here that it happens every half hour to a new song until midnight so we can watch it again if you like Cricket.”  Frank loved watching her as she enjoyed the show.  It was something he remembered from that awful October, wishing he could have shared it with her then. “C’mon baby, let me feed you and we can take a walk.”  

After a delicious meal, Frank and Abby walked hand in hand on the crowded streets. They pointed at the different signs, different characters that were walking the strip, laughing, and enjoying being just Frank and Abby.  As they approached one hotel, Frank’s palms began to sweat. “Frankie?” 

“Can I tell you a story? It doesn’t have a happy ending but maybe we can rewrite it.” Frank looked to his feet.  

“You can talk to me about anything, love.” Abby cupped his cheek. “Take your time.”  

Frank swallowed.  “About five years ago, I won the big game for my team, and we came here to celebrate. I really didn’t want to because I had my amazing girlfriend and my darling little niece at home, but I didn’t want to come off as a bad team player.  My best friend came with me, and we lived it up.  Our captain had gotten us a couple of tables at a club, and we had fun.” Frank sighed and pointed to the club in front of the MGM. “See that sign? Its for the club we went to.  This is the hotel we were staying at.  Anyways, we partied and went back to the suite where some of us had been staying at.”  

“Alone?” She asked, quietly.  

“Me, yes.  Some women approached me that night, but I refused.  I wasn’t drinking as much as the rest of the guys from what I can remember. Anyways, some of the guys had brought girls back with us and the hotel had set up a bar for us to drink from.  There was a pool off the balcony of the room and the girls were getting in with just their underwear.  I was uncomfortable.  I said that to Mike. The last thing I remember clearly was him handing me a glass of scotch.  He said, ‘Adler, you earned this.’ You’re a good man to Abby and a wonderful father to Mary.  Just relax and enjoy.’” 

“Mike handed you that drink?” 

“That’s the last one I remember.  When I woke up, I was in a room, not mine. My head was splitting, and I was dehydrated.  I made it to the bathroom and when I looked back, I saw the blonde. I yelled at her, asking her what the fuck she was doing in my room. She panicked and said she didn’t remember coming in there with me.  Mike rushed in and told her to get out while checking over with me.  I asked him what I had done, and he said, I swear, he said that I got drunk, and I couldn’t make it to my room so he put me in his.”  

Abby closed her eyes. “Why would Mike lie?  He had no reason to.”  

“Abby, I love how you are so trusting but Mike has had it bad for you since high school. But he knew I liked you and was working up the nerve to tell you for years. But back to the story. I called Steve and asked what I should do.  He was here as well with another client.  He asked me to stop the girl and ask her for the truth.  I did manage to stop her, ask her and promise not to go to the press.  I would pay anything for it not to go to press.  I needed to tell you first.  Steve showed up and got an NDA in place. He talked to her and she confirmed, nothing happened.”  

“But then the pictures came out.”  

“Then the pictures came out.  I was so angry that someone, who knows who, they violated my privacy, my trust.  I was desperately trying to get to you first but by the time I landed, it was too late. You didn’t let me explain and I lost you.”  

“Oh Frankie,” she cried as she pressed herself into his chest.  

“I’m so sorry Cricket. I should have called, I should have done something else to stop this from happening. I lost five years with you when a simple phone call would have solved everything.  I am so sorry.”  

“I’m sorry too Frankie, I should have just taken a moment to listen to you. When I got those texts of those photos...” 

Frank pulled back. “What texts?” 

“I got an anonymous text with the photos and an audio of you just says, “I can’t tell Abby,” I thought, well I thought it was more common.”  

“You don’t know who sent it.” She shook her head. “Fuck, I don’t, I don’t even know what to say.  I was always going to tell you but I didn’t want to do it by phone.” He pulled her back into his arms and held her tight. “I love you Cricket.  I never stopped.” He kissed the top of her head as they held each other.  

Abby sighed after a while.  “Take me to bed?” 

Frank didn’t answer, just turned away from the hotel that ruined his life and started back to the fountain.  As they walked, Abby spotted something and stopped.  “Cricket?” 

She pointed at the building. “We could make better memories.”  

Frank stared at the building and back at his girl.  

Next

Taglist:

@patzammit @texmexdarling @slutforchrisjamalevans @firephotogrl74 @before-we-get-started @jennmurawski13-writes @tinkerbelle67 @bunnyforhim

#andy's hea #andy's shenanigans #chris evans fanfiction #frank adler #frank adler au #mlb au #dodger au #ofc abigail hernandez #sliding into home #chris evans #mike weiss #johnny storm #baseball au #frank adler smut #slow burn #chris evans au #cliffhanger queen

[darlingor]

Immerensis

Russell Adler x civilian OC

Small slivers of light from the early morning began to creep through the light colored curtains. His blue eyes began to flutter open, and a small smile soon made its way onto his often stoic face.

A warm feeling began to fill him, for he was admiring the beautiful face of his wife. They’d been married for a little over two years now, yet he never grew tired of her. He was in awe of her. Sometimes, she would catch him just staring for a while. To him, her beauty was beyond this world.

It wasn’t just her face, however. Somehow, he could see her personality in her features. The lines on her face from smiling and squinting her eyes like she always did. She was the embodiment of kindness, and a warm aura seemed to follow her. He couldn’t get enough of it. And he couldn’t understand how someone so wonderful could be with someone so monstrous.

She knew his darkest secrets. She knew about Bell and Mk-ultra. She knew what he did to Stitch all those years ago. Every despicable act he committed in Vietnam. He felt utterly filthy around her, and just being in proximity of her would dim her light. No matter how many times she consoled him, told him that what he did was necessary and how sorry she was he had to do it, he could never shake the feeling that he was undeserving of her pure love.

He couldn’t wrap his head around why she would stay with him. There’s plenty of good people out there, he would say. And she would always respond “Russell, you’re a good man. I don’t think there’s anyone better.”

The warm feeling began to leave his body, and he was soon filled with tremendous guilt. He was holding her back, keeping her from finding the perfect person. He slowly lifted his hand and gently caressed her cheek. She was glowing in the early morning light. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. She began to stir, and a smile settled on her face.

“Good morning hon.” She hummed out, as her eyes opened. Her morning voice made him absolutely melt.

“Morning.” She scooted closer to his warm body and gave him a quick kiss. She quickly noticed his grim mood.

“Russ, what’s wrong?”

He was shocked at her question, and he looked at her with wide eyes. How she was able to pick up on him so quickly he would never know. She cocked an eyebrow at his silence.

“Russell. Tell me what’s wrong?” He let out a sigh.

“How did I end up with you?” Her expression immediately softened and she felt a pang of sadness in her heart.

“Russ, I love you, and that’s all that matters. I’m a big girl, if I wanted to be with someone else, I would. But I would be miserable without you and that’s the truth. You’re my other half.”

“You know what I’ve done. I’m not a good man.” She looked into his deep eyes, filled with such raw emotion she scarcely saw. She could have hit him in that moment.

“Russell Adler, you are the best man I know. You do what you do to protect those who can’t protect themselves. I don’t know many people who would be willing to put their own health aside to protect others. To me, there’s hardly anything more admirable.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but she quickly shushed him. “You’re amazing.” She lifted her hand and began to run her fingers along his scarred cheek. “There’s more to you than just those actions. I’ve seen you throw yourself in front of a gun to save a couple from a mugging, you saved me from that drunk guy in the bar, and there’s probably a million other things I don’t know about.”

He began to think over her words. “You have the most beautiful heart. The fact that you feel so guilty about these things proves that. I just wished that you cared about yourself as much as you care about others. Maybe if you did, you would see how truly good you are.”

He was dumbfounded, and so overwhelmed by the sheer amount of love she had for him. How she could form her feelings in such an articulate way.

“You deserve me and more. Don’t you ever forget that.” He thought on that for a moment.

“There’s nothing better than you.”

—————————

A small sort of ooc soft drabble. Working on part 5 of LPD so I giving you a little something to tie you over. I think this is the second thing I’ve written with my oc Harlow, and I want to try to develop her a little more. Hope you guys like this!

#call of duty #cod:bocw #call of duty black ops #black ops cold war #cod #cod cold war #cold war #call of duty cold war #black ops #bocw #russell adler #adler #cod adler #Adlerxoc #Harlow Adler #my oc character #my oc writing #drabble #adlerxharlow

[blorbfoosh]

Chapter 2 -

We turn back again to the mansion we saw at the beginning, back into the meeting room. Shade was at the head, Knife on his right. Another skeleton, wearing a dark blue jacket, a light grey tank top, and dark grey cargo shorts sat on Shade’s left. He wore dusty blue sneakers and white gloves, too. He stared at a map on the table with mismatched eyelights, one red, one blue and red, the blue glowing bright with red in a neat ring. He scanned the map, before marking a few spots with a purple marker. He glanced at the others. There are a handful of skeletons milling around the table, one with a red lightning-shaped scar on his cheekbone, another with a… A hole in the right side of his head, to put it lightly. He glanced at Knife with a big, blood-red eyelight, before turning back to fiddle with his phalanges. He was larger than the others, maybe around Shade’s height, just taller. He wore a white turtleneck with a few stains here and there, a dark maroon battle vest, and black cargo pants. Worn loafers tapped absentmindedly on the floor. The chair across from him held the scarred skeleton. He wore mainly black and white clothes. A black long-sleeved shirt under an open hoodie-vest tee, black, knee-length shorts with a white ‘X’ stitched onto the sides, and white lace-up boots. He stared uneasily at the door. The tension was thick. Not a word entered the air. The large skeleton then perked up. Knife looked at him curiously. “Whatcha got there, Axe?” He said, breaking the silence. Axe merely stared at the door, a hungry look in his eyelight. The others turned their eyes to where he had his sights on. Waiting… For what? Suddenly, a dark blue slipper shoe with Bayern blue soles kicked open the door, and once again, another skeleton strode in. He was a dark-toned skeleton, wearing a black coat, with an open Napoleon collar, decorated with a yellow stripe running along the sides of the collar. The angel sleeves of the coat are wider than usual, and from a little past the elbow down, it was a nice shade of cerulean. The same went for the pants, black, wide-leg style, and from past the knee down, blue fabric replaced the black. He wore a crimson sweater and a cobalt scarf that flew wildly behind him. Black fingerless gloves concealed red metacarpals, showing only the yellow of the tips, as he carried several bags and boxes. His face is obscured by the pizza boxes he was carrying, however. The monochrome-themed skeleton smiled. “Finally, Adler. What took you so long?” He asked, resting his elbows on the table. “Fuckin’ anomalies, o’course.. Whaddya expect, Check?” A deep, glitchy voice spoke, setting down the boxes with a small slam. Red sockets, with mismatched yellow eyelights, one yellow, one blue, ringed with yellow- Much like the map-marking skeleton. Oh, and to make his features even more unique, he had blue tear-like streaks running down his face, and a bright yellow set of teeth, curved downwards into an unamused frown. He wore round, circular glasses, too, to complete the look of ‘hot hobo.’ The map-marking skeleton rolled his eyelights. “You gotta deal with em, be they annoying or tolerable.” Said he in a quiet, raspy tone. Adler glared at the other. “So you say, Ash. You’re the one w-” Shade rapped his knuckles on the table for order. “Let us eat. In peace, I request. Adler has gone a long way just for us. So did Knife, Ash, and Axe.” He reprimanded, looking at them with irritation in his one eyelight. The others fell silent, Axe chewing a slice of pizza quietly in the background, his large red eyelight watching Shade. 

“While we eat, let’s discuss our next plan of action. Our band, Antagonists, has been pretty quiet lately. I say we do a concert.” He glanced at the others. “What do you say?” Axe glanced at Ash, who shrugged, eyeing Check. He looked anxious for some reason, or maybe it was the pizza. A big, fat cow stared at Check in the box. He shuddered, hastily taking his pizza. Knife smirked and shoved him playfully. “Well, if you ask me, I’m all for it. Boss. I’m not sure about Checkers.” Knife said, a small laugh in his tone. Check glared at him, rolling his eyelights and muttering under his breath. Shade raised a bonebrow. “You have an objection, Check? Is is the food not to your liking?” He asked, holding Check in an intense starebattle. Axe perked up at the mention of food and was now eyeing Check, as Adler was minding his own business. Thankfully. Check cleared his… Throat, and shook his head. “No, sir, I am fully on board with the concert idea. I think it is an excellent idea.” Axe stared at him expectantly, and Check flushed a light purple. “Oh, and the food is very nice.” He added, looking away. Adler held a triumphant smirk on his face, before looking away. Ash and Axe did thumbs-ups, and Adler shrugged. “Eh. Why not.” Shade nodded approvingly of the gang. “Then, it’s settled. Shadow Moon will be out of business, except for recon and the Duchess project. We’ll discuss further plans later. For now, let’s just eat.” He said, grabbing a pizza slice, a rare smile on his face.

On the other side of the city, far from where the mansion is, a woman was yelling at a worker. Inside the store stood a short, young, feminine monster, holding a broom in her hands, standing still as the woman yelled at her. She was dressed in a grey turtleneck and black jeans, along with matching black sneakers. A light grey apron went over her clothes, her face dripping. Black hair, going past her shoulders was tied in a ponytail, as she stood there, drenched. “YOU INSOLENT CREATURE!  I ASKED FOR WATERMELON, NOT WHATEVER HORRID SHADE THIS IS! I DEMAND A REFUND- IMMEDIATELY. WHERE IS YOUR MANAGER!?” The woman screamed, stomping, as a bouquet of oleander fell on the floor, flat from being squashed under the woman’s foot. The worker winced at the sight of the ruined flowers. “I am the manager, Ma’am. I’m Vans Gastorre. How can I help-” She was cut off by another splash of water from the woman’s water bottle. She screamed something about monsters and then trudged off. Vans sighed. Another low review. At this rate, she’ll be out of business in a month or two. She barely makes enough to pay the bills… “Oh, for Asgore’s sake. Can I not have a bad day of business? Please?” She pleaded, to whatever deity may hear. She shook her head, flipping the shop sign to ‘CLOSED,’ her movements much like a slime’s. Well, she is. Globs of matter formed on her grey face, a sign she was tired. She cleaned the mess off of the floor and stretched. “Geez.. I need a break. That trip to the Ashen Sunset is more than overdue,” she muttered, trudging up the stairs. Upon reaching her room, she went out to the tiny balcony and pulled out a cigarette out of her messy hair. No lungs to fuck up, yeah? She lit the cancer stick and inhaled deeply. Ahh… Better. She could feel her stress melting away.

The bright, neon lights beaming the words ‘Ashen Sunset,’ with a bright phoenix beside it, shone down on Lottee. She gulped nervously. It was large, fancy, and imposing. “C’mon, Lottee, don’t be a scaredy cat- Er, mouse. Think of the free drinks! Yes, the drinks..” She gulped and placed her paws on her hips. “Mouse up!” She said, putting up a confident smile, and stepped in. And fell flat on her face. Another gasped. “Aw, for fluff’s sake…” Lottee mumbled, sitting up and dusting herself off. Someone knelt in front of her, holding out a grey hand. “Hey, you okay..?” They asked, in a quiet and deep voice. Female, probably, due to her black jeans and style of shoes. “Mmmph.. Could be better, but thanks.” Lottee replied, taking the outstretched hand gratefully. She grabbed her purse and straightened out her light green dress.

When she fixed the loose fluff from her face, she came face to face with a feminine monster. She seemed like one of the slimekind, most likely molten, due to the globs collecting and looking quite a lot like those anime sweat or tears. Stringy black hair fell down her shoulders in a straight wave, and she wore a casual dark grey shirt and fishnet gloves to go with her jeans. She looked down at Lottee with white eyelights full of concern. “You sure you’re fine? You took quite the fall.” Lottee smiled. “Yes, miss, I’m doing swell! My name’s Lottee. And you are..?” She prompted, a friendly smile on her face. The molten woman smiled back, albeit tiredly. “I’m Vans. Nice meeting you, Lottee.” The mouse nodded at Vans with a cheery expression in her eyes. “Hey, why don't you join me for a drink? I have a friend here, she can give us freebies!” Lottee exclaimed, grabbing Vans’ wrist with the excitement of a child. Vans looked at the paw with some hesitance but shrugged and went along with the mouse dragging her along. ‘I mean… What could go wrong, anyway?’

Aden sighed, pulling off her stage dress in the crew’s facilities. The greyscale ombre dress slid smoothly off of her arms and body, showcasing the multiple scars she bore on her back, chest, and upper arms. She sighed, folding up the dress and slipping on her bartender’s uniform- A fitting white tee, black leggings, grey sneakers, and a dark grey apron, with an orange phoenix print on it. The Sunset’s logo. She slid her other things into her bag, and tightened her hidden belt on her waist, making sure her trusty, silver scimitar was attached. It was risky, bringing her personal weapon into the den of thieves, but Psyche had ‘accidentally’ broken her double daggers, her work weapon. So she had to make do. Aden could fix it herself, in a jiffy, but she’d raise questions. So the manual way it was. It was one of the busiest nights in any of the ‘sale seasons’ she’d been called to work at. Yes, Aden Stryn. The infamous ‘sales girl’. The worker who only appeared during high tides, big business, festivals, holidays… Anything that is of date in the calendar, she’s there. Like now. The Echo festival was coming up soon, and everyone was already relaxing. She placed her bag in her locker and whispered something incomprehensible, and black tendrils slowly rose from the floor, snaking around her locker, making a chain around it, before sinking into the rusty metal. She took a deep breath and in the background, she heard the other singer begin their song. She pushed the black curtain that hid the crew facilities aside and walked behind the bar, ready to serve. 

Showtime.

Knife stood in front of the Sunset, leaning against the doorpost, on the phone. Ash’s voice crackled on the speaker. “Don’t be stupid, okay? Don’t forget your investigation.” Ash scolded, in a raspy and quiet baritone. Knife smirked. “Don’t fret over me, ashtray. I can always investigate at the Sunset. Multitask.” Ash sighed. “Don’t call me ashtray. And whatever. Don’t be a moron.” “Yeah, yeah, got it.” Knife then disconnected the call and then sighed, walking in. The familiar sight of the bar somewhat calmed him. The scent of alcohol, the sounds of chatter over the singer’s voice, the clinks of the glasses as the bartenders cleaned and served, and the waiters and waitresses sweet-talking the patrons all wound up into a comforting ambiance for him. A female bartender exited the crew facilities and went behind the bar, ready to dish out the orders. She greeted her coworkers, seemingly friendly, but Knife picked up on the slightest bit of hostility. Oh, whatever. It’s not like it’s his problem, yeah? Just normal competition between coworkers. He observed a little more, before spotting a table that had an empty seat. The people occupying the rest of the table were playing poker. He smirked. “Well, let’s have some fun, shall we?” He muttered, tapping the load of G in his pocket. He headed over and took a seat. “A slot open, boys?” He asked, sliding into the seat. 

Game on.

Lottee raised a hand, calling over the nearest bartender. “Can I have a chocolate mudslide, on the rocks?” She asked, Vans sitting beside her. Lottee turned to the molten one beside her. “Uh, Vans? What would you want-” She was cut off by Van’s simple reply. “Vodka sunrise.” Lottee stared at Vans with a bewildered look. “You sure?” Vans nodded. Lottee shrugged, before calling over the bartender again- And getting jumpscared with Aden’s face. “WH- GAH!!” Aden chuckled at this. “Well, look what the mouse dragged in. A fellow friend.” She nodded at Vans. “Hi, I’m Aden Stryng. I work here, as you can see. And you are..?” She asked, quirking a brow. “Uh. I’m Vans Gastorre. Nice meeting you. I work at uh, Floradical.” Aden’s other eyebrow soon followed the other. “Oh! I’ll drop by if I have the chance.” She leaned closer to Vans. “I’ll let you in on the freebie deal here, too. Friends?” She asked, a little smirk on her face. Vans furrowed her brows. “Freebies? Well... That’s a hard bargain you drive, miss. What’s in for you?” Aden leaned back, shrugging. “New clients and your friendship.” Vans looked at Aden with a somewhat beguiled expression. “You sure?” Aden nodded. “If I wanted to kill you I would’ve done it already at Floradical. But I’m not like that. I don’t like having blood on my hands. Unless it was for cooking.” She said, preparing the requested drinks. Lottee glanced at the back and forth between Aden and Vans. “Uh, guys, let’s break it down. We’re here for friendly-” She once again was cut off by Vans. “Free drinks? A deal it is then. I hope to see you ‘round at Floradical, you two.” Lottee nodded. “We’re having a freesome.” Vans choked at this, and Aden chuckled. “What..?” Lottee muttered under her breath. “Well, here are the drinks, gentleladies. I’ll be on my way now.” Aden announced, sliding the drinks over with a flourish only an experienced bartender can have. She then walked away to deliver more orders. Three rounds in, and Knife was close to losing all of his money. He gritted his teeth. Goshdammit. This was a bad choice. He glanced at his hand. Oh. He could either divide his eights, which is risky, or he could call. He didn’t register the shadow that flitted around each head, checking their cards. He was about to call when a whisper echoed in his head. ‘Divide your eights. The other hands are weak.’ He furrowed his bonebrows. And why should I trust you? He thought. The voice grumbled. ‘C’mon, I’m trying to help your pitiful barebones ass. Do you want to win your G back or not?’ Knife stopped. This… Thing drove a hard bargain. The voice scoffed. ‘FYI, I’m Insania. Not a thing. Just… A little voice in your head. Trust me. Okay?’ Knife relented, and divided his eights. Everyone else collectively groaned. He wore a smirk on his face, as the chips and his G were passed to him. Seems like he won this time. “Thank you, gentlemen.” He said, smirking. He also thanked Insania, the little whatchamacallit in his head. Insania grumbled again. ‘By the way, you better leave. I saw some of the Starflame’s patrol come this way.’ His sockets widened slightly. “Huh. Is that so? Well, I guess it’s time to go.” He muttered. He grabbed his G, downed the last of his Scotch, and was out of there. Unfortunately, the patrol spotted him. He was too late. So he did what he did best. He ran and evaded, teleporting onto the roof and letting them chase him for the hell of it. ‘Time for another wild ride, eh?’ He thought to himself, as he jumped from building to building. He didn’t see the eye that watched him with interest from above, as they flitted back to the bar, settling on Aden’s shoulder and melting into her skin.

Several hours later, Aden stared at the two figures laughing their heads off with slight irritation and amusement. Vans was hiccuping about hot mafia octopus skeletons, and Lottee was blabbering about how hot mentally unstable monsters were. She sighed. Lightweights. At least her shift was almost over- And it was the last one of the day, thank the stars. She went into the crew facilities, grabbed her bag, and slipped on her sweater. She then headed out and was just in time to see Vans wobbling on her chair, leaning forward, and splattering all over the counter. White goo everywhere. Lottee giggled, pointing to the Van that was splattered all over the cedar wood counter, saying something like “Vans became semen- Or bird poop- Heehaa…” Aden rolled her dark brown eyes, tying her black locks into a low ponytail. “Well, let’s get the drunkards home, shall we?” She said to no one, in particular, heaving Lottee on her back. She flicked her finger, and the same tendrils from a while ago scooped Vans up(seeing as she was practically goop floating in clothes at this point), and compressed into a ball, as big as a tennis ball. She tucked the black matter into her bag, secured Lottee on her back, and went out, into the dark night.

#utmv #utdr #utdr au #original character #original story #original au #oc #oc stuff #self indulgent #drmv #ogmv #alternate universe #inspired #references to drinking #magic

[soonre627]

【Adler x Stitch】

⚠️ooc預警⚠️完全腦洞⚠️自我架空⚠️含大量私設

吃不到cp真是太痛苦了，我只能自產自銷

不知道這樣釣不釣得到同好（？

因為我真的覺得stitch很受，他就是個小可愛（？

由於內含大量私設，純腦洞，想寫他們如果結婚去蜜月會發生什麼事。

而且我沒寫完（欸

之後看有沒有空再說。

下收正文：

    維霍爾．庫茲敏後來仔細思考，才發現自己都已經這樣的歲數了，竟然完全沒有到外頭旅行過。在維霍爾的印象中，就算是到其他國家，也全是為了工作或者研究，而且通常都是他獨自一人，沒有旅伴，當然也不可能有旅遊或是其他觀光行程。

   所以，像這樣和另一個人出來旅行，對維霍爾來說，還真是頭一遭。

    況且自己現在可不單純是出來旅遊而已。

    「——在想什麼？」

    站立在他身旁的羅素．阿德勒微笑著開口詢問，他注意到身邊的維霍爾貌似相當分神，便輕輕伸出手撫著他的臉頰。維霍爾瞬間回神，瞧見了身邊站著的阿德勒，看見他身上輕便休閒的衣著、然後又看到了對方身後美麗的河岸城市景色，這才突然間回過神，他和阿德勒現在身處在義大利的威尼斯，這次他們並不是為了工作或是任務前來，而是單純就是來旅行的。

    或者該說，蜜月旅行。

    事發在莫約一個多月前，事情的開端維霍爾記得不是很清楚，總之，基地裡不曉得是誰——十之八九是龍心或歐蕾西雅，發現除了維霍爾跟阿德勒之外，其他所有夫夫們都已經度過了蜜月。而維霍爾由於副指揮官的身份，已經很長一段時間沒有休假，又正逢阿德勒解決完一個長期任務，於是基地裡的所有人一致認為，他們應該去度個蜜月假期。

    所以，最後在維霍爾抗議無效跟其他人的半強迫、還有阿德勒溫柔的邀請之下，他們便來到了義大利的威尼斯。此時的他們倚靠在一處小橋樑邊望著底下河道來往的貢多拉，這樣輕鬆悠閒的氣氛，讓維霍爾有些不適應。

    「沒事。」維霍爾回答：「有點不習慣而已。」

    阿德勒微笑著，冷不防的湊上前去吻了吻對方。而維霍爾立刻因為他的行為而紅了臉頰，他下意識慌張的環視著周圍其他路人，不過其他人只是瞧了瞧他們的方向，然後便紛紛又轉開了視線。

    「緊張什麼？這裡沒人在意的好嗎？」阿德勒笑著，伸手摟著維霍爾的腰，見到他有些慌亂外加許久不見的羞澀模樣，阿德勒忍不住又把他整個人摟進懷抱裡親吻。

    「好了！別鬧！阿德勒！」維霍爾伸手推了推對方，羞紅著臉瞪著他，雖然說他也知道在義大利這種歐洲國家，像他們一樣的同性情侶，根本就見怪不怪，但維霍爾總還是感覺彆扭，或許也因為這是他第一次跟阿德勒一起出來旅遊，沒有任務纏身、沒有隨時都要留意周遭，這樣的輕鬆氛圍讓維霍爾感覺非常微妙。然後這時他總會無意間的瞥見自己右手無名指上的戒指，跟阿德勒左手無名指上戴著的同款婚戒，一起在義大利和煦的陽光下閃著光芒。

    維霍爾會在這瞬間突然意識到——他們已經結婚了，而這樣的事實總會讓維霍爾感覺彆扭跟害臊。畢竟平時老是忙於工作，維霍爾總會忘記自己其實已經結婚這件事情。

    不過，相對於有些工作狂的維霍爾，阿德勒倒是隨時隨地都會記得這件事。他老早就想跟維霍爾出來一趟旅行，但無奈於局勢，他們分別的時間總是大於相處，所以對於這次為期兩週的蜜月，阿德勒顯得非常滿意，這一次總算不會被任何人打擾，他們可以正大光明的牽著手，一起漫步在街道上。

    望著不遠處正在買飲料的阿德勒，維霍爾還是感覺相當新奇，這好像是他第一次看見阿德勒穿得這麼休閒，但是即便是休閒的打扮，也無法掩蓋他的好身材，阿德勒的身形非常高挑，健壯的體魄在休閒襯衫跟長褲的勾勒下顯現出完美的肌肉線條，一頭金髮搭配著天藍色的深邃眼睛，帶著傷疤的臉龐反而替他多增添了一抹獨特的魅力，這讓阿德勒笑起來的時候更加迷人，不光是維霍爾，周遭有許多人都把目光落在了阿德勒的身上。

    其中有兩名女性正在對著阿德勒議論紛紛，而她們站的位置離維霍爾相當近，他能清楚聽見她們的對話。由於站在橋邊也沒什麼事情可以做，維霍爾的注意力便很自然的集中到了女性的談話內容上。

    「——像是外國人，美國？加拿大？」其中一名女性說著，目光直勾勾的盯著阿德勒：「老天，妳看他的身材，真是好的不像話！」

    「可不是嘛，姐妹！」另一名女性吸著飲料回答，有些感嘆般的說著：「不知道他有沒有女朋友？天啊，要有多好的條件才配得上那種男人？」

    是啊，要有多好的條件，才能夠配上他？維霍爾倚靠在橋邊，與兩名女性同樣望著不遠處的阿德勒，偶爾想起他們在一起的事實，維霍爾還是對於阿德勒最後選擇了自己這件事感到不可思議，他從來沒有什麼能給他的，但阿德勒還是選擇和維霍爾在一起、甚至走向了結婚這個選項，這是維霍爾壓根兒沒有預想過的結局，他到現在仍然想不透阿德勒選擇自己的原因在哪裡，光是外貌條件，維霍爾就知道自己已經輸了一大截，更別說個性還有其他部分，維霍爾就沒什麼能拿出來說的優點，就像那兩名女性說的——得有多好的條件才能跟那樣的男人在一起。

    但是，維霍爾．庫茲敏不知道的是，阿德勒對他的一切早已完全著了魔。

    此時的阿德勒在等候餐點的同時，把目光移回半趴在橋上的維霍爾身上。阿德勒注意到維霍爾的視線，便對他勾起一個淺笑，而維霍爾則是匆匆地把目光移動到橋下的小攤販上，害羞的反應惹的阿德勒輕笑出聲，就這樣盯著維霍爾的身影不放。

    雖然維霍爾本人老覺得自己的相貌水平一般，但事實卻是有很多人都在盯著他瞧，維霍爾穿著的襯衫領口釦子並沒有全部扣上，加上他的姿勢半趴在橋樑扶手上，可以隱約看見胸口的肌肉線條，光是這樣就已經吸引了不少人的目光，更別說他今天穿的長褲還非常貼身，臀部的線條被勾勒的更加明顯，甚至可以說相當性感，惹得阿德勒不自覺的吞嚥了一口口水。

    而理所當然的，被維霍爾吸引的人，可不光只有阿德勒一個。

    「他媽的，你看橋上那個男的。」其中一名男子在經過阿德勒身邊時，這樣對著身邊的同伴訕笑著說道：「你看見了嗎？那個性感的傢伙？」

    「看到了，我的老天。」他的同伴回答，目光不懷好意的盯著維霍爾的身影猛瞧：「老兄，我告訴你，我願意花五百歐元跟他上床幹一炮。」

    另一名男人笑出聲音，悠哉的繼續說：「我也是，我可以再加碼一百歐元讓他幫我口交，靠，你想過去跟他搭話嗎？」

    他們發出一連串笑聲，絲毫沒注意到後方的阿德勒表情非常陰沉，依舊對著維霍爾指指點點。而阿德勒在取走攤販的飲料後，經過兩人身邊時，趁著沒人注意的當下，悄無聲息地把一邊花店攤販的推車往他們的方向踢了一腳，那兒正巧是下坡，載滿花盆的推車就這樣不偏不倚撞上了兩人。

    阿德勒回過頭，狠瞪了兩個一臉莫名其妙的男人，他們當然不曉得這是阿德勒做的，只是困惑又驚恐的摔倒在地上。阿德勒沒再搭理他們，逕自拿著飲料回到了維霍爾的身邊。

    「那裡怎麼了？」看見方才的騷動，維霍爾露出些許困惑的神情望著阿德勒。但阿德勒只是微笑，把手中的飲料交給對方。

    「不知道，不重要。」阿德勒輕鬆的回答，然後伸手接過維霍爾原本拿在手上的外套。「把外套穿上吧。」他説道，然後也不管對方答不答應，就直接把薄外套披在維霍爾的肩頭上。

    「為什麼？」維霍爾困惑的發問。

    「穿著就對。」阿德勒回答，外套的長度剛好可以遮到維霍爾的臀部。

    而維霍爾雖然覺得莫名其妙，但也沒有抗拒的意思。他們繼續在威尼斯的街頭上漫步，這是維霍爾第一次到歐洲國家，路上的許多事物都讓他覺得新奇，這瞬間的他像個孩子，冰藍色的眼睛不自覺的一直到處張望。

    看見這樣的維霍爾，阿德勒始終掛著寵溺的微笑，他牽緊維霍爾的手，帶著他走過巷弄街道。這不是阿德勒第一次來義大利、也不是他第一次和別人出來旅行，但過往的經驗裡，旅程中從來就沒有讓阿德勒值得留戀的事情，甚至是他和前妻的蜜月旅行，都在中途就被自己用工作為理由而中斷。

    所以，像這樣享受旅程的一切，對阿德勒來說，也是第一次。

    晚間他們回到了下榻的飯店，威尼斯在這種觀光產業上做的可謂相當淋漓盡致，他們入住的飯店不算最頂級，但整體的設計可謂相當別出心裁。頭一晚他們抵達時由於長途飛行的疲憊而沒有好好待在房裡欣賞，第二晚又因為附近的煙火表演，回到房間時已經是深夜，直到第三天晚上，阿德勒跟維霍爾兩個人才終於乖乖待在房裡沒亂跑。

    房裡的設計帶點中世紀風味，柔軟的大床上掛著布幔以及薄紗。阿德勒在一邊整理行李時，轉頭瞧見了趴在床上休息的維霍爾，他的身影在薄紗後若隱若現，阿德勒看著維霍爾懶洋洋的在床上舒展著身軀，對上阿德勒的眼神後，側躺著露出一個淺淺的微笑。

    於是阿德勒便很自然而然地爬上床去，伸出一隻手把維霍爾壓在身下，先是俯下身親吻著他，然後才露出一個壞笑。

    「你故意的吧？」他笑著問，而維霍爾則是歪著頭回答：「故意什麼？」

    阿德勒俯下身，把他壓在身下索吻，維霍爾並沒有拒絕的意思，伸出手摟著阿德勒的腰，而阿德勒也很自然而然的便把手伸進去維霍爾的衣服裡，指尖滑過他的腰線，向上撫摸到胸膛，揉捏著維霍爾的乳尖，他聽見身下人發出小小的呻吟，便露出滿意的微笑，目光炙熱的盯著維霍爾泛紅的臉龐。

    「這兒有很多東西能讓我們慢慢玩。」阿德勒說：「房間服務很周到。」

    維霍爾勾起一個淺笑，又一次歪著頭回答：「你有什麼能玩？」

    阿德勒笑出聲，順手脫掉了自己的上衣。「多著呢，小貓咪。」他酥麻的呢喃低語，他們在擁吻中像瘋了一樣做愛，阿德勒掐著維霍爾的腰，一下讓他趴在床上、一下又讓他側躺著，撩起他的一隻腿幹、過了一會兒又覺得操得不夠深，便把維霍爾整個人壓在身下，但終歸沒停下的都是紮實的抽插。這張床夠大，方便他們不停變換姿勢，而阿德勒的性慾永遠強的驚人，維霍爾在幾次高潮之後就有些撐不住，於是阿德勒壓在他身上，吻遍他身上每寸肌膚，然後笑著取來早已放在床頭櫃裡的春藥，對著身下喘息不止的維霍爾呢喃。

    「不行了嗎？」他喘著粗氣說道：「讓我幫你，小貓咪。」

    說完後，阿德勒將一粒春藥塞進維霍爾的口中，貼著他的耳畔，用溫柔卻強欲的語氣下令：「吞下去，聽話。」

    維霍爾有點神智不清，乖乖聽從阿德勒的指令把藥給吞下，然後阿德勒滿意的微笑，繼續吻著對方臉上的淚痕。藥效發揮的很快，幾分鐘後維霍爾原先已經半垂著的陰莖又一次硬挺起來，他的喘息帶著嬌軟又淫慾的喊叫，扭著腰迎合阿德勒的抽插，緊緊抱住了他的身軀，阿德勒都不需要做太多事情，維霍爾就會因為藥劑的關係顫抖著哭著高潮射精，但他仍然渴求著性愛、主動吻著阿德勒、在他耳邊低語著下流的情話。

    「你喜歡我這樣操你，對嗎？」阿德勒笑著問，故意在這時停下了抽插的動作：「喜歡嗎？小貓咪？」

    維霍爾因為得不到快感，便睜開欲求不滿的眼睛望著阿德勒，他發出了像是哭泣一樣的啜泣聲，用力的點點頭，挺著自己的腰讓阿德勒炙熱又巨大的陰莖完全頂進自己的深處。

    「不要、不要這樣——」他接近崩潰的哀求：「羅素、操我——拜託、求你操我——」

    阿德勒露出滿意的笑，又把維霍爾整個人壓回床上狠操，他們之間最後只剩下喘息、喊叫還有抽插時淫慾又下流的水聲，兩人的身軀幾乎完全緊密交纏貼合，春藥跟潤滑劑的空罐被他們扔在地上，這場性愛直到接近黎明時分才總算終結，無論是哪一方都已經精疲力竭，但他們望著對方的目光卻仍帶著炙熱的愛。

    於是，這天他們沒有任何外出的行程。阿德勒睡到中午才醒來，而維霍爾完全沒有醒的意思，依舊躺在他懷中熟睡。

    阿德勒輕手輕腳離開被窩，順帶吻了吻維霍爾的臉頰，然後才下床盥洗。由於他猜想維霍爾並不會那麼早醒過來，便相當悠閒的叫了客房服務，侍者把早點跟報紙送到他們房間。阿德勒倚靠在陽台的窗邊輕啜著咖啡，外頭的天氣依然非常舒適，阿德勒望著底下的河道街景發了好一會兒呆，然後才回到室內享用早午餐。維霍爾還在睡，而且睡得非常沉，由於阿德勒不在身邊，他順手抱著枕頭，整個人埋在棉被堆裡睡得香甜。

    阿德勒咬著麵包，無法克制自己臉上一直露出相當寵溺的微笑，他望著維霍爾意外天真可愛的睡臉，轉了個身從行李箱裡拿出相機，就這樣把維霍爾幾乎每個角度都拍了一張相片。

    回去洗照片的時候這傢伙一定會生氣。阿德勒微笑著想。

    維霍爾又過了一下子才醒來，他在床上翻了個身，感覺自己全身都酸疼的不像話，每次一跟阿德勒做愛就是會有這種下場，他邊想邊睜開了眼睛，而一邊的阿德勒注意到他醒來後便微笑著走到床沿邊坐下。

    「早安，睡得好嗎？」阿德勒笑著詢問，不過維霍爾看上去還略顯疲態，有些懶洋洋地看著自己手中拿著的盒子。

    「你在幹嘛？」維霍爾有些困惑的盯著那個紙盒：「那是什麼東西？」

    阿德勒把目光落在盒子上。「這個？」他微笑著，把小盒子在手中揚了揚：「這麼快就忘了？虧你昨晚吃了一堆這東西呢。」

    聽見阿德勒的話，維霍爾這才意識到他手上的小盒子就是昨晚他倆用來助興的春藥。看上去盒子已經空了，鬼知道這傢伙昨晚趁著自己意識不清到底餵自己吃了多少！難怪會全身酸痛成這樣！維霍爾瞪了阿德勒一眼，沒好氣的開口回答：「幹嘛？你還嫌不夠嗎？」

    「我喜歡這東西。」阿德勒壞笑著，貼近維霍爾身邊說道：「這小東西讓你性感的像隻發情的貓一樣。」

    聽見阿德勒的話，維霍爾有點害臊，畢竟昨晚自己的行為確實相當放蕩。於是他抓起一邊的枕頭狠狠就往阿德勒身上砸，對方大笑著閃開，趁機又把維霍爾壓在身下親吻著，維霍爾沒有抗拒，就這樣與阿德勒擁吻了一陣。

    他們在午後的溫暖陽光下接吻，微風撫過身旁，時間在這一刻凝結，這瞬間他們是兩個相愛的普通人，彷彿一切痛苦都沒有經歷過、一切遺憾都未曾發生，他們的愛將會持續到永恆。

    「——我愛你。」在放開對方之後，阿德勒輕輕對著維霍爾呢喃。而維霍爾回給他一個淺笑、以及相同的一句「我愛你」，他們相視而笑，阿德勒在他身邊坐下，讓維霍爾把頭枕在自己的大腿上休息。

    這時的維霍爾安靜的躺在阿德勒的大腿上，對方正在看著早報，維霍爾則是在這時又瞥見了右手上的婚戒，他輕輕撫摸著那只銀色的戒指，過了一下之後換了個姿勢，仰躺在對方大腿上望著他專注的臉龐。

    「怎麼了？」注意到維霍爾的目光，阿德勒笑著把視線移到他身上：「你想吃點東西嗎？」

    維霍爾並沒有回答，只是對著他勾起嘴角。此時的維霍爾仍舊赤裸著身體，除了底褲外一絲不掛，柔軟的棉被蓋著下半身，他對著阿德勒笑了一下之後便將視線移動到手上的婚戒，修長的手指輕輕撫摸著戒指，雙腿在床上勾著交疊，隱約能看見大腿內側跟下腹的吻痕與咬痕——維霍爾大概不知道自己常常下意識做出相當性感的動作，這不曉得算不算天份，總之，阿德勒對於四下無人時他這樣的行為感到非常的滿意，於是他伸出手輕輕撫摸著維霍爾的腰，忍著跟他再來一發的衝動，把報紙放在一邊的小桌上。

    「你該起床吃點東西了。」他呢喃著說：「都已經快下午三點了。」

    維霍爾沒有拒絕阿德勒的提議，畢竟他真的有點餓。於是維霍爾伸了個懶腰從床上坐起身，有些懶洋洋的朝浴室走去。而這次在他換衣服時，阿德勒直接站在他身邊幫他挑選衣服。維霍爾露出不解的神情，很自然的歪了歪頭，他在困惑時總會有這樣的舉動，無論看幾次都讓阿德勒覺得可愛至極。

    「為什麼是你幫我挑？」維霍爾挑著眉問道，但是卻乖乖接下阿德勒給的衣物，是一件素色的T恤外加一件襯衫外套，以及較為寬鬆的長褲。

    「因為，」阿德勒笑著，湊上前吻了維霍爾：「我不喜歡路上一直有人盯著你瞧，這很合理吧？」

    維霍爾愣了愣，有些懷疑的望著阿德勒。「要看什麼？有誰會看我？」他邊問邊把上衣穿上：「除了你以外？」

    阿德勒露出一個壞笑，伸手猛然揉捏著維霍爾的臀部，貼近他的身子後呢喃著說道：「多著呢，看你有多性感、多可愛，還說著想跟你來一炮，你說我要怎麼不擔心？」

    聽見阿德勒的話，再看見他有些嫉妒跟埋怨的眼神，維霍爾稍稍紅了臉頰，但依舊不怎麼相信對方的一番說詞。「聽錯了吧，怎麼可能是在說我。」他哼了哼聲，把襯衫套上，原先想這樣直接走出房間，卻被阿德勒給拉了回來。

    「就是在說你。」阿德勒有些不滿的伸手把維霍爾襯衫的扣子給嚴實的扣上，因為他發現即便只是簡單的T恤，維霍爾的胸線依然在衣服下隱隱乍現，於是阿德勒直接把襯衫的扣子全扣上，然後挑著維霍爾的下顎，湊上前吻著他帶傷疤的左眼。

    「這樣還差不多。」阿德勒露出滿意的笑，然後才牽起他的手往房間外走。維霍爾沒有拒絕他的行為，反正就算把他的手甩開，等會兒阿德勒還是會重新貼上來。他們就這樣在街道上漫步，今天沒有安排什麼特別的行程，所以他們的腳步悠閒中帶點懶散，另一方面當然也是因為阿德勒知道維霍爾應該不能走得太快——畢竟他們昨晚可是幹了整整一晚上。

    而維霍爾低頭看著自己跟阿德勒十指緊扣的手，又往上移動到他的側臉，恍然間感覺好像在做夢，阿德勒注意到他的視線，便轉頭對著他一笑。

    「怎麼了？」他輕聲詢問：「你覺得無聊了嗎？要去其他地方走走嗎？」

    「不，不會。」維霍爾回答，稍稍用力握緊了阿德勒的手，對著他露出一個淺笑：「這樣很好。」

    阿德勒同樣緊握住維霍爾的手，是啊，無論怎樣都好，只要知道現在前行的路上有彼此，那樣就夠好了。

    他們在一處看得見海的小餐館裡歇息。維霍爾待在座位上咬著吸管喝著玻璃杯裡的水果氣泡飲，他們的座位在室外區，阿德勒拿著菜單去吧檯點餐，而維霍爾就獨自一人在座位上等他。維霍爾在座位上伸了個懶腰，舒展著身軀，然後把目光移向遠處蔚藍的大海，海面非常平靜，偶爾有幾隻海鳥從空中滑翔而過，平靜的景色讓維霍爾有點發愣，所以他並未注意到有個人影正在朝著自己的方向接近。

    「Ciao（你好）。」

    一個相當陌生的低沈男音在維霍爾身邊響起，他被嚇了一大跳，慌張轉過頭看向聲音來源，這才看見自己的身邊不曉得何時站立了一個黑髮的高挑男人，深邃的五官以及深色眼珠，是相當標準的義大利男性長相。此時男人正對著維霍爾露出一個燦爛的笑容。而維霍爾並不認得他，於是下意識的產生了戒心，畢竟曾經在戰場廝殺這麼多年，他對於陌生人的警覺還是相當重的。

    「對不起，我是不是嚇到你了？」男人微笑著問。維霍爾用相當不信任的眼神打量著他，冷冷的說道：「我不認識你，你找錯人了。」

    「那麼，我想我應該先自我介紹？」男人依然笑著，看不出有任何威脅性存在：「列托．雷斯特利。你呢？Bellezza（美人）？」

    由於維霍爾聽不懂義大利文，於是他只得露出有點困惑的表情，輕輕的歪了歪頭：「什麼？」

    對方被他的反應逗樂了，便相當自然的笑出聲。這反而讓維霍爾有點緊張，畢竟除了阿德勒之外，幾乎沒有人會像這樣在自己面前笑著，維霍爾確實對於自己的行為常常無意識的帶著可愛以及性感這點一無所知，所以他並不曉得眼前的義大利男性究竟為何會笑得如此開懷。

    「你一個人？」列托微笑著，用手撐著桌面，相當自然的靠近了維霍爾幾寸：「來威尼斯旅行嗎？還是工作？」

    維霍爾一時之間不曉得該不該回答，於是只能用懷疑的眼神瞪著他。

    列托依然微笑，目光停在維霍爾那隻已經瞎了、並且帶著傷疤的左眼上。「你的眼睛怎麼了？」列托詢問，一瞬間露出了略帶疼惜的目光：「真是可惜你的眼睛，是那麼漂亮的藍色。是因為意外嗎？」

    維霍爾沒有回答，事實上心底相當慌亂，除了阿德勒以外，他可從沒被別人用帶著疼愛的目光注視、也從來沒被別人稱讚過，更別說他倆才認識不到三分鐘。於是維霍爾下意識的想從座位上起身，但他很快注意到列托正巧擋著離開的路，只得僵硬著身體又坐回原位上。

    列托又露出相當燦爛的笑：「怎麼了？你害羞嗎？Bellezza？」

    「——這應該不是你要注意的事。」

    阿德勒的聲音在他身後響起，列托跟維霍爾同時把注意力向後轉，看見一臉陰沈的阿德勒站在列托後面，他的眼神帶著殺意，像是現場就要直接把列托給宰了，他伸出手，相當不客氣的抓著維霍爾的手腕，讓他從位置上起身。

    「阿德勒——」

    「換個座位，這兒有隻煩人的蒼蠅在。」阿德勒輕聲對著維霍爾說，然後輕輕挽著他的手臂往另一側走過去。

    但即便見到了阿德勒不悅的表情與他們之間親密的互動，列托依然沒有死心，他微笑著擋在了兩人面前，目光在阿德勒跟維霍爾之間來回逡巡。

    「他是你朋友？」列托笑著詢問維霍爾。

    而阿德勒完全沒有讓維霍爾回答的意思，他橫了個身，擋在列托跟維霍爾之間，抓著維霍爾的右手拉到對方面前，讓他清楚看見兩人無名指上的同款銀色戒指。「是丈夫。」阿德勒冷冷的說，然後拉著維霍爾頭也不回的轉身離開。

    幸好列托並沒有跟上來，他們選了一處較為角落的位置坐下，維霍爾能明顯感受到對面的阿德勒情緒不佳，他皺著眉頭，目光落在他們走過來的方向，像是在擔心列托會跟上來一樣。

    「⋯⋯你生氣了？」維霍爾有些歉疚的開口，而阿德勒在聽見他的話之後才把視線轉回他身上，見到維霍爾帶著愧疚的眼神，阿德勒搖搖頭，露出一個微笑，伸手越過桌面握住了維霍爾的手。

    「好了，現在你知道你有多引人注意了，對嗎？」阿德勒輕鬆的回答，撫弄著維霍爾的手指。對方則是稍稍漲紅了臉頰，確實，維霍爾並沒有預想到自己竟然也會被別人搭訕，這還真是他人生中頭一次，更別提對方的相貌還不差，雖然維霍爾依然不明白當中的原因是什麼，但不管怎麼說，現在他不得不承認阿德勒說的的確是事實。

    「我又沒回答他。」維霍爾哼了哼聲，但目光依然帶著些許自責。看見維霍爾的眼神之後，反而是阿德勒感覺有些愧疚，於是他牽起維霍爾的手，湊到唇邊輕吻著他的指尖。

    「我沒有生你的氣。」阿德勒溫柔的說著：「不要那個表情，我們可是出來度蜜月的，我可不想為了那種傢伙壞了好心情。」

    維霍爾又一次泛紅著臉頰，但他並不怎麼想承認，於是便故意哼了哼聲，斜睨了阿德勒一眼：「怎麼，你吃醋嗎？」

    「沒錯，我當然要吃醋。」阿德勒相當大方的承認，緊緊握住了維霍爾的手，對著他溫柔微笑：「我好不容易才得到你，怎麼能這麼輕易就隨便被那種來路不明的人搭訕？」

    「好了，哪有那麼誇張？」聽見阿德勒的話，維霍爾反而有點彆扭：「別講得好像我是什麼稀世珍寶一樣好嗎——」

    「你是。」阿德勒吻著維霍爾的指尖，望著他的目光帶著強烈的愛戀、珍視、溫柔與疼愛。「在這個世界上，沒有比你更珍貴的人，維霍爾。」阿德勒輕聲的呢喃。他們之間經歷過太多痛苦，最後才終於能夠走到這一步，打從維霍爾決定接受阿德勒給的愛的那瞬間開始，阿德勒就已經發誓這輩子不會再讓他承受任何一點痛跟悲傷，維霍爾已經痛苦了太久、他被傷害太深太痛，而最讓阿德勒自責的，是造就這一切根源的人正是自己。

    所以現在的維霍爾值得所有最好的一切，阿德勒給他的疼愛完全超出維霍爾的預期，甚至有的時候反而讓維霍爾感覺相當彆扭。畢竟，在這漫長的人生路上，他獨自跌跌撞撞，身上的傷多到後來已經不會疼，維霍爾曾經以為再也沒有任何事能讓他感受到痛，但最後最痛的反而是在阿德勒幫他療傷的那段時間、他重新拼湊起已經支離破碎的自己，一針一線一字一句把已經破碎的心重新縫合回去，傷口直到這一刻才開始滲血劇痛，阿德勒的溫柔讓維霍爾留戀、同時也讓他痛不欲生，維霍爾痛到感覺自己要死了、所以再一次瘋狂的嘗試逃離，但這一次阿德勒沒有再放開他、再也不放了。

    然後阿德勒意識到——維霍爾根本不懂什麼是溫柔、什麼是被愛，而這全部起源於自己對他的背棄，但維霍爾卻仍無法恨他，最後只能讓自己滿身傷，好忘記曾經深深愛過他的那個自己。

    於是，時間跳轉到現在，阿德勒面對著眼前略微無所適從的維霍爾，緊緊握住了他的手，吻著那個與自己同款的銀色婚戒，幸好他們終究走到了一個好的結局，現在的阿德勒除了維霍爾以外，完全不在意其他事，為了他，阿德勒甚至想著自己可以親手毀滅世界。

    不過，現在那些也全部不是重點，現在的重點是——阿德勒確定了維霍爾走在路上確實是有可能會被搭訕的，雖然維霍爾一直認為自己相當平凡，但事實卻並非如此，他意外的相當有魅力，一些無意識下的行為舉止總會讓人忍不住想多看他幾眼，不過通常這種時候，那些偷瞄維霍爾的人都會接收到阿德勒充滿殺意的目光，隨後便會嚇得逃開原地。

    於是，阿德勒冷冷瞪著一名年輕男人逃開的方向，那個不怕死的小伙子剛才用一種貪婪的眼神盯著維霍爾的臀部猛瞧，阿德勒必須很努力才能克制住衝出去揍他一拳的衝動。

    「你又在幹嘛？」注意到阿德勒正眼神陰鬱的望著遠處，維霍爾抬起頭，對著他露出不解的神情：「你從剛才到現在到底在看什麼？」

    「沒有，沒什麼。」阿德勒對著維霍爾露出微笑，而正想順著他剛才的方向看過去，就立刻被阿德勒托著臉頰轉回來。「就跟你說沒有東西了。」他勾起一個淺笑，看向對方有點不滿的目光：「別分心，你知道我不喜歡你看別人。」

    「在分心的是你吧？」維霍爾忍不住抱怨，揮開了阿德勒的手，然後繼續往前走了幾步。這時維霍爾抬起頭，正好瞧見了有一名女性正盯著自己瞧，對方與維霍爾對上眼神之後，便向著他露出一個微笑。

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

是的我斷在一個奇怪的地方了（欸

沒辦法就剛好只寫到這裡，有空再說（不負責任

#cod bopcw #russell adler #vikhor kuzmin #cod stitch #adler x stitch

[deaconusdelirium]

Would they ever hand you their jacket?

Fuck off, it’s cold here, and it’s raining non stop. To make it worse, I live in the forest, yay, jk. Really, it is cold, anyways, enjoy

———

Woods≈

Real talk? No, get your own, what makes you think he’ll give his jackets up? He couldn’t care less on your feelings, even more, if your cold or not. Should have brought a jacket.

However, if you manage to sneak into his heart. Take it, you want his ring finger too? Go ahead. He’ll give it to you. But he has to feel cold too just so he knows you actually are

Mason≈

(Inserts WildCats: Dangerous) somft boi. He will absolutely give you his jacket, there’s no need to tell him actually, if he feels a slight chill. He’s right by your side with his jacket already being wrapped around you. He can just takes Woods anyways, he has that much control over him

Adler≈

Umm, yeah I guess so. But it’s leather, and you know how leather jackets have that like, silky texture inside, and when you put it on its cold? Yeah, it’s like that, so yes, he’ll give it to you. But in the process, you’ll get colder to get warmer, he doesn’t do hugs when you have his jackets on though. Nope.

Stitch≈

No. Get your own. You have money, you can talk, most importantly, you have the body language if you can’t. No matter how many times you ask, he’s not giving it up. That’s all that can be said.

Naga≈

It’s a hard question. It’s either a yes or no, but it’s almost always yes. If you’re both out on a mission, then no. If you both are just sitting around or hanging out with others, it’s most likely a yes but you have to go somewhere private where the others won’t look at his body. He feels exposed and it’s uncomfortable when others stare

Ghost≈

Yes! And I say that with affirmation, he may be a bit shy about it at first. Since he always has either a jacket or long sleeve on, he’s never really exposed his whole arm, and when he does. My gosh, what a treat. And his jacket is the most comfortable thing in the world, he has no problem whatsoever when you want it. And it comes with hugs

Gaz≈

Oh my, did you just ask for his jacket? He needs to hear you say it again, then he’ll smile and hand it out to you. And boy is it a sight, you bundled up in his puffy jacket. He’ll be a bit extra and put his cap on you. Then laugh it off, he doesn’t mind, and quite frankly, he’s thinking of getting you one that looks exactly like his.

Yuri≈

Big strong man=big comfy jacket. He won’t exactly give it to you when you ask, but he will give you a sweater or one that he isn’t wearing. If you’re both alone, he’ll even give it to you. It makes his day when you go around with his jacket on, will probably tease you when the sleeves hang off your hands

Makarov≈

To be honest, yes. Yes he will give you his jacket, you know the camouflaged one? Yeah, that one. Sometimes he’ll let you wear his suit jacket. It’s not rare, but not common, maybe when you both stay late at his office, and you forgot to bring a jacket, then he’ll let you wear it. And those arms are just… mmm 10 points for the tattoos

Reznov≈

You’re his, and he’s yours. Your basically bonded together so he sees no point in asking for his jackets. Just take it. But if it’s in public, then maybe ask, he always brings an extra jacket, or he reminds you to get yours. If you forgot, then he’ll back you up with his other, or the one you left behind

Dimitri≈

Sweet baby, you may have it. He’s so lovestruck, he’ll do whatever you want him too. Even if you don’t ask for his jacket, he’ll still give it to you. It’s surprising at how affectionate he can be when you leave him be. He just feels the need to do so, it’s like an instinct.

———

Boring day means nothing to do. Have something on your mind or wanna make a little request, I’m open

#Frank woods #Alex Mason #russel Adler #vikhor stitch kuzmin #kapano naga vang #Simon ghost Riley #Kyle Gaz garrick #Yuri CoD #Vladimir makarov #viktor reznov #dimitri petrenko #HC’s #cod WaW #modern warfare 2019 #modern warfare 3 #cod Cold War #x reader #my shitty writings

[animefreak1145]

What Could Never Be (Adler x Bell!Reader x Stitch)

Sequel

Summary: You’re a sniper hidden in the trees meters away from the meeting of Stitch and Adler in front of the grave.

It’s time you choose.

Warnings/Tags: Trauma, Recovery from Trauma, Mental Anguish, Brainwashing, Manipulation, Major Character Death, Post!Solovetsky, Post-Canon, Bell!Lives, Implied Sexual Content, COD:BOCW Season 6 Outro Spoilers

Words: 9.1k

You saw the helicopter when it landed, several meters away from your disguised camouflaged  form within the high sky reaching trees of Russia. You kept your eyes on the scope, able to see with the zoomed in and the well equipped sniper you had within your hands. You moved the scope away from the helicopter before anyone got out and back to where Stitch stared at the grave site.

Perhaps you were imagining things. But there was something strange about how Stitch’s shoulders looked from where you were. Almost resigned. Accepting. But that can’t be right.

He must be wishing to put on a final show, you thought. Stitch can say what he wishes but he does have some appreciation for theatrics. 

Different from Perseus. You wonder even now what the man would say. Your once friend and superior, your confidant. Stitch wonders the same you’re sure. You do not presume to know about what Perseus would think, but you can see that Stitch has gone quite far. For the Perseus Collective. Not quite as devastating as it could’ve been if you didn’t ruin Perseus’s plans for Europe, but a blow nonetheless. Just as dangerous.

You can admire that at least. You never have been surrounded by stupid men.

Perhaps you should’ve, you tell yourself as you move your scope, your heart thundering as you looked for the form only for your breath to hitch when you found it. Him.

Adler.

You flexed your jaw, seeing Mason pat Adler’s shoulder before setting him off. Alone. To Stitch. 

You wanted to spit at the foolishness, almost shaking your head but you could only watch as Adler drew nearer to Stitch. 

Through comms, you heard Stitch say your name calmly—the old one, the true one that never felt quite the same no matter what he did or say or what the others could do. As if he could sense your trepidation from where he was at only to begin to turn when Adler came upon him with his pistol in hand.

Your finger twitched, moving towards the trigger as you watched and heard the interaction through comms. Your teeth being gritted and brows heavily furrowed and your heart feeling as if it would burst out of your chest from how fast it was going.

This was it.

Recompense.

A chance.

Redemption.

Seeing the man, hearing his voice—it brought memories. Too many. Despite Stitch finding you bleeding on the cliffs and Perseus and him deprogramming you, it did not take away the memories. Of Vietnam. All of them. Not just Fracture Jaw. You can close your eyes and see it being played, sometimes you even dreamed of it. Of claps to the shoulders and back, of teases from Sims and you doing the same about his magazines with Adler doing the same, of talks on the beaches, of trading of rations and eyes the color of the Arctic sea with it’s clearness winking at you to hush. For others to not get ideas he’s not spoiling you. The ways you would have his back like he always did yours. Of coughing harshly at trying a cigarette of his and him and the squad laughing at you and your face.

But you knew how to smoke. Stitch told you after he offered you one when you were recovering from your wounds.

“As if you were a chimney that only swallowed instead of expel,” the man would say in reference to how many packs you used to smoke, a tease in his tone and a fondness you couldn’t give back. You couldn’t remember. Only what you knew. Vietnam. The safehouse. The cliffs. Stitch seemed to tell when you were troubled by that, because he would hush you quietly, and carefully putting an arm around your shoulder and whispering vengeance to your ears. “The Westerners will pay, zaya. Adler will get justice for what he’s done. Just rest.”

Zaya. зая. Little rabbit.

They must’ve been close. But you don’t remember. Only what you know. And what you know has made you trust anyone very little. You didn’t think you could trust anyone again.

Adler’s words haunted you. The last words especially. Calling you a hero. But it wasn’t so. You were a pawn, nothing more. No one will know your name—what you did for Adler’s country. Only Adler does. The CIA. Even than, what was done to you, it was only told to certain people within the organization. Others will thank Adler for what he did. Stopping the nukes. Stopping the destruction and murders of millions of people. 

You were quiet with the others. Perseus would visit you if it wasn’t Stitch. And if not Stitch, it was this woman called Portnova. She said you used to be legend within the KGB when you worked with them. You don’t remember, no matter what they say. Perseus looking at you sadly yet with grim determination while Stitch seemed to be at a loss and only grew angrier. Not at you. He never did despite his harsh appearance. At everything else. Adler especially.

You didn’t know what to do.

You stopped these people from killing millions, but they were. . .kind to you. Patient. Even with your nightmares that were more night terrors as you screamed and yelled about red door’s and jungles and needles and T.V.’s. Perseus did not let any television be near you if you walked around the large safehouse or any other they went to after your recovery, and if there were, they always had to be on. Stitch didn’t let others hold you down if they had to give you medicine through a poke, a deadly glare and hiss if they tried. Knowing you hated being trapped or stopped in any form. You at first even had trouble with blankets being over you—feeling as if they were choking you, gripping you, like a firm touch to your jaw and you would sometimes hallucinate and see suede shades for walls above you when you awoke.

They aren’t good. Not what you know of the word, at least the you now.

But they were kind. To you.

And that was what made you conflicted.

They weren’t good but they were kind.

The others were good but they were liars.

Adler would kill you if he knew you were alive. You knew he would. Because that’s what he tried to do the first time. Missing just by an inch.

“A miracle, you’ve always been one.” Perseus said at the news, much later when you were almost fully recovered and were at a loss on what to do as the Russian man smiled kindly at you, the lines on his face apparent when he did it. “Since I happened to find you all those years ago. Alone by a gulag and wishing to get supplies just to get by. Looking as if you were a rat that went for a swim in a dumpster. Your round eyes looking at me like I was insane. Perhaps you were more a mouse.”

You were alone. You felt like you always were. In one way or another. It explained a lot.

Your loyalty.

Why you would kill millions for one and save millions for another.

You were dangerous.

You do not know it was more then or more now when you are at a loss on whose side you’re on now.

When Perseus said that though, you couldn’t help but disagree. You think the world just wants you to suffer. Suffer from surviving Arash. Surviving torture. Brainwashing. Barely escaping Volkov. Almost dying in Cuba. Again in Solovetsky. Only to suffer once more from a bullet to the chest. Overlooking the pretty horizon as you slowly bled out and eyes squinting against the sun and green grass stained red along with the flowers moving with the cold arctic wind.

Perseus only strengthened his words more, after cursing both Arash for his traitorous ways and for Volkov for not informing him about you immediately.

“You’re a survivor. You’ve always been.” He said, comforting hand to your shoulder as you could only stare. Throat oddly tight as he looked down at you kindly, a small smile under his mustache. “You’re the best out of all of us. Why do you think you were my second?”

You do not think he solely meant your skill set.

He soon added that he believes Adler saw the same. And used you for it. The way you were. Your perseverance and loyalty. With false bonds and lies.

You kept silent. Throat only getting tighter and eyes strangely feeling pressured.

It was true. Vietnam was fake. No matter what you saw when you slept.

But the safehouse.

The safehouse.��

You went through every moment within that place the time you were with Perseus and recovering. Them not pushing you to go back to work for them. They had others that could do what you could. But they would remind you that you were always the best. Thanks to that, you played back everything. What was lies. Half lie. Half truth. And if there were any truths to begin with. 

It always got muddy with Adler. 

Even when you were with them, after a moment with Adler in the safehouse, you would needlessly analyze the interaction and scrutinize it. What he said. What he didn’t say but you can see something between the lines he wants you to read. Wanted you to read. How he would stare at you. All moments when they didn’t mention Vietnam or another event that Adler would say happened but you just don’t remember cause of your accident—just speaking. About anything. Indulging your wants with the camera. Indulging your reading. You realized you loved him from those moments, a book in your hand and an Ernest Hemingway quote on your lips of days that will ever be while he had his cigarette in hand and his shoulder to your back to lean over you and a wry tone matching his words “Here’s to the other shitty days to come and all the wars that comes with it, kid.” You don’t know why that sentence of all things made you realize your heart was battering against your ribs for a reason. Maybe it was how he said it, how his breath on your neck and hair felt, his scent that’s all nicotine and masculine cologne—maybe it was because in his own way he finished the quote and the fact he knew the quote in the first place to summarize it so well. A soldier tired of wars but expecting them either way. Maybe it was all of that. 

Still.

You do not understand these moments. No matter how you try to look at it.

You just know your chest weighed heavily each time you thought on it, and you thought often.

It was months after recovery, your Russian accent slowly coming back and mixing with your American one, you awakening from a nightmare due to Stitch waking you up with a certain look in his eyes as he called your name that you don’t feel is yours.

“You were calling for his name.” At your questioning glance, Stitch just continued to stare at you. Almost assessing. “Adler,” he spat. “Tell me, zaya, did he make you love him too?”

You didn’t know how to answer. Only staring at your lap but that’s all Stitch needed because he quickly stood up and paced and cursed and fists clenching and muscles tensing.

You watched as he did and something seemed to click.

“We weren’t just friends, were we?” Stitch stopped, head bowed and and back facing you. You tried to think back once more, but you came out blank. Only little flashes of something, of hands and stray touches but that could be anything. “I. . . I’m sorry. I—I don’t remember.”

He just turned towards you, moving slowly and his shoulders appearing slouched as he sat next to you with a chair by your bed. His eyes crinkled sadly, and he brought a hand up, almost ghosting over your cheek and you let him. Almost entranced at how soft his face could be, even with one blind eye.

“Do not apologize, mon zaya. Perhaps with time.”

You don’t think so. MK—Ultra is powerful. Even with deprogramming, it only worked getting rid of the trigger phrase. You don’t think you’ll ever get your memories back. Stitch knows it too. But he said the white lie anyways. You wonder if it was more for him than you.

The time came, a month later that the woman you know as Kitsune came to you and gave you a folder with an arched brow. You staring at her in mild confusion before opening the folder and you seeming to freeze, as Kitsune said they need your help and they wouldn’t have asked if they didn’t. You recall pressing your lips, your mind whirring with decisions and plans for those decisions that was always in the back of your mind as you stayed with them.

To save.

Or revenge.

You chose. And worked on codes and decoding. Even when Stitch gave you an out, his hand to your shoulder but close to cupping your neck gently as he stared down at you that you didn’t have to do this. You remember swallowing thickly before strengthening your resolve and sticking with it. His lone eye seemed to glitter and gleam with soft pride and an emotion you can’t give, but your heart quickened all the same. As if recognizing—remembering for you.

It was when Perseus got diagnosed, that you felt like you were faltering. The man slowly just kept staying in bed and say the orders there—meetings as he laid and looked pale and lost his hair. The old man still would smile at you even in pain and you didn’t even realize you were crying by his side until he shushed you and put a hand to your head as you sobbed.

“Come now, radnaya, it’s alright.” He said, even with trembling hands he would comfort you and clear your tears. Still with that kind smile. Your chin wobbled. “I do wish I was like you now, however. I imagine you would survive this. If only I was a miracle like you. My dirty little mouse that believed in me.”

“You’ll survive this,” you blubbered between sniffles and you didn’t even notice Stitch came into the room until he put his hands on your shoulders, as if to ground you. “Y-you can. . .you shouldn’t speak like you’ll die. You can’t.” You stated without thinking. You weren’t thinking at all. You always felt strongly, your eyes pleading as you grabbed Perseus’s hand between your own as you pleaded with the older man seeming to share a glance over your head to Stitch. “Please. I—I don’t, I don’t remember anyone else. Anything else.”

You don’t remember your own father’s face.

You don’t even know if you had one.

But you know Perseus was the closest you could ever get.

Perseus smiled. And squeezed your hands and brought them to his lips to kiss the back of them.

Stitch took you away after that and a few hours later, your father figure was gone. You didn’t think about how the man was the one who Adler has been obsessed with for more than a decade. How Adler will never get the chance to do the deed himself, never get the satisfaction. How he got rid of you, at least hoping to, to make sure Perseus couldn’t get someone like you again. You didn’t think about how Adler might look at finding out about Perseus and how you would feel about that until later. 

No.

You were hurting. You were in pain.

And Stitch was too despite how he tried to hide it as he held your sobbing form to his chest. That’s all you thought about, until a possible reprieve formed in your mind as Stitch’s hands caressed your back in comfort, up and down to your shoulders and even tickling your neck. You moved your head to stare up at him, your eyes meeting his and something flashed within them and you took your chance.

You stretched upwards, thankful he had his mask off for once, and kissed him with your hand to the back of his neck and the other to his chest. He groaned in your mouth, in a mix of thankful need and almost as if it said finally as he easily wrapped his arms around your waist. Stitch kissed you as if you would disappear in front of him and you guess in a way that did happen already, only for him to pull back, a hand to gently on your chin. His eyes scanning your face before understanding took over at what you want. That you still didn’t remember.

“Is this what you wish, mon zaya?”

You barely let him finish, kissing him again before you started dragging him to your room only for him to take lead instead to his. “More privacy,” he said to your ear, breath on you before kissing it. Him laying you down on his bed and over you as he kissed you everywhere and hands wandering as you pushed his hood off him along with his many layers to feel his chest. “I missed how you taste. Mon zoya. So strong. Even after everything.”

You don’t feel strong. Just tired. Always tired.

But the sweet words helped, the few ones he would do to your ears outside of his quiet sounds that came from his chest more than his throat.

When you laid your head atop his bare chest, under sheets, you wonder what you’ve done. But. You’re tired. You’re in pain. And Stitch—despite everything—is kind and gentle and soft to you. You couldn’t help but selfishly keep it.

And so it kept happening, Stitch as the new Perseus, and you still creating codes and more codes and backup codes and decoding and decoding in various forms as time went on. You and Stitch now together, and the Collective seemed happier with it. Almost like everything was back to normal.

You don’t remember normal.

Stitch’s plans were in the making and he didn’t want you to help, barely answering your questions when you heard about the Numbers and somehow Adler’s name being brought up. Stitch only kissing your forehead and telling you your time would come later for the Westerner that did this to you. That he shall have his turn for now.

You found out later what occurred, due to Portnova and Kitsune. Stitch brainwashed Adler.

Brainwashed Adler.

You couldn’t help it, you laughed. A full guffaw towards the sky and hand to your mouth as if to stifle it but you could not help it.

Stitch was not kidding about justice.

Still. You worried.

About what?

At this point, you’ve accepted you’ll never truly know anything again. Especially your own feelings.

You kept coding and decoding, but mostly coding. Always coding. Codes in newspapers and obscure articles, a stray TV channel. You did it.

Verdansk happened. The explosion.

Your lips formed to a wry humorless smile at Adler’s work even when brainwashed. Even that can be seen as funny.

So obsessed with the mission—to stop Perseus—that his brain rewired itself to achieve it.

You remembered his words to you, after you asked him more on what he meant that Hudson doesn’t trust what he couldn’t control. Adler seemed to throw you a smirk as his brow arched, smoke billowing out from his mouth as he sat on his desk and you sat in front of him.

“Trust, kid, is all about control. Remember that.”

You didn’t forget. 

You feel a little jealous though. You wish you were able to rewire yourself.

You then get the call from Stitch, to head to Verdansk. That it’s time.

You checked over your codes and sent them before nodding to yourself, and leaving. It was not only you however, Naga came along too. In the forest of Verdansk. You put a hand on the tombstone, as if you could feel Perseus’s hand instead but you didn’t. Just stone. Hard. Cold. You lowered your hand and left to your position, Naga doing the same when you glanced towards him. Stitch coming and just waiting in front of the grave.

And now you’re here, trigger on your finger and eyes on the Russian and American as they spoke which you could hear through comms. Stitch explaining what Perseus really was. 

Adler, as you thought, wasn’t having it.

“You’re coming with me,” he quietly commanded, but with all the calm authority he always exudes even though he appears he’s seen better days. His wheat hair mussed and wounds upon his face and person everywhere but his arm up with the pistol steady. Always steady. And looking at Stitch in the eyes. “There’s blood on your hands.”

“Are your hands clean, Bell?”

You felt your face wince but Stitch threw his own retort, about what Adler did in his brainwashed state. What he did to Verdansk.

Adler scowled.

“Fuck you!” His hand tightened around the pistol and you felt sweat gather on your temples, feeling cold as you bit the inside of your cheeks and lips. You tightened your hold on the sniper as well. “I wasn’t in my right mind. You saw to that.”

Stitch chuckled lowly, amused and uncaring as he moved with Adler’s pistol not wavering. 

“You Westerners. . . so squeamish. Look at where we are. This was the Eastern Front. The blood of millions,” Stitch stressed, motioning and pointing his finger down upon the ground, ”of my people so deep in this soil. Men and women, who paid the ultimate price for what had to be done.”

You bit your cheek harshly, you tasting blood as your finger twitched on the trigger. You taking a quick glance to where you knew Naga was. 

“You’re a fucking monster.” America’s Monster growled out in your comms, your eyes back through your scope as your breathing felt short and your hands under your gloves felt sweaty. “I should kill you for what you’ve done. For what you did to me.”

Ah. There’s the answer than.

You took a steadying breath, staring at these two powerful men through your weapon. Before quickly moving the scope to see the helicopter and where the others were that left Adler alone in the first place, seeing they seem meters away as well from where Adler and Stitch were. You felt sweat come down your neck and temple as you closed your eyes. The world seeming to slow.

“My life no longer matters,” you heard Stitch say sorrowfully. You wonder. . . Your eyes opened, moving the scope back to them but you farted your eyes back towards Naga, trying to spot him through the camouflage. The hooded man turned and let his back face Adler as the scarred man drew closer, his lips pressed together the way they always did when focused. “Do what you will.” You took the safety off as Stitch’s hand slowly rose, and you moved the silenced sniper and took aim, your finger squeezing as Stitch did the signal by touching his blind eye and trees rustled in the wind. “Finish what you started on Rebirth Island. My broadcast is complete.” Stitch wasn’t sorrowful. He sounded resigned. Your chest heaved and your heart battered as you moved once more, licking your lips and putting your eye to the scope. Hand slightly shaking around your weapon but you held your breath. “I have changed the world, Adler. In ways you can’t even imagine. . .”

Your finger squeezed just like your heart did. 

You slumped your body against the tree just like a body fell, your eyes closing as you hit your head against the trunk. 

“What the fuck?” You heard through your comms, your lips twitching at Adler’s bewildered tone. It sounded funny when he’s confused. “A sniper. . .”

You heard Adler’s steps walk past with the comms until you couldn’t hear anymore. You sighed, shoulders slumped as you waited. Maybe if you just stayed quiet and didn’t move an inch, you can live out your days in trees that almost touched the sky.

You smiled at the thought.

You heard noise from below, your eyes moving downward as you saw Adler moving and looking at the trees with his gun out. Your smile turned sad.

No, you think as you watch the man who’s plagued your mind for years, the world isn’t that kind to me. It never has been.

You dropped the sniper purposefully, it landing on the ground with a harsh thunk from the height. Adler immediately turning himself and his gun towards it before his eyes slowly lifted to where you were as you took the foliage off you that helped hide you. Eyes that were harsh ice widened and cleared.

“Bell?” 

You barely heard the name, him almost seeming to say it to himself in disbelief. It didn’t help you were quite high up. You’re surprised you heard it at all.

You swiped away any remaining foliage, staring down at Adler with a passive quirk of the lips.

“Hey, Adler.”

At your words, he seemed to shake himself. His eyes back to hard as he kept his gun on you. Another thing you expected. Along with his sharp tone.

“How are you alive?”

“I’m breathing,” you answer, nonplussed.

“Still a little shit, I see.” Adler retorted blandly before his expression maintained its stoicism as he analyzed you and your uniform, eyes narrowing at the patch you had. “You crawled back to Perseus when you got a second chance? No—you’re fucking third chance?”

“I couldn’t do much crawling when I’m bleeding out,” you clipped from above, before you reigned it back in. You rather not fight. Not now. Despite. . .everything. “They found me. Specifically. . . Stitch did. If you wanted to kill me, you should’ve kicked me over the cliff for good measure. I’m here because of you.”

Adler stared up at you, then glanced at your sniper than towards the direction of where Stitch’s body laid. His pistol didn’t lower as he moved his hawkish gaze back towards you. His mind seemed to whir and you could tell because he didn’t have his shades on. You could see him now. 

“. . .it was you. You sent the messages.”

You snorted at his slow realization, unamused. Adjusting yourself on the branch by laying your arm against your bent knee.

“Lot of good that did. You got tricked by the Nova 6 bait anyways.”

“Our decoder had to leave,” Adler excused with a frown. “It’s not like you made the messages easy to decipher.”

“I couldn’t! The various things I had to do to make sure I didn’t get caught, from fake codes to real ones to the ones I sent to you—don’t blame me because the CIA is horrendous at analytics and linguistics of all forms.”

“You’re a genius, kid. Don’t blame others because you’re better.”

The compliment threw you for a moment, you blinking at him and how easily he said it as his arms slowly lowered and his pistol was to his side but still tense.

You frowned before glancing away.

“Doesn’t matter. It seems the lot of you were able to get the message on specifically where in Verdansk Stitch was going to be.”

“Lot of good that did. You couldn’t let me do the deed, Bell?” You didn’t answer, your frown only deepening. Adler squinted up at you. “What made you do that anyways? And was what Stitch true or was he just spouting shit to sound ideological? That grave too.”

“I had to do it. And. . .it’s true. Perseus was never one man. Never will be. Another one will pop up after Stitch. The one you knew as Perseus though—the one we both knew as Perseus, is laying in that grave.” You say, an iota of solemn in your tone.

Adler’s expression darkened, his fists clenching as he cursed to himself before his eyes narrowed as they turned back towards you suspiciously.

“You were close.” You didn’t say anything, just stared down at Adler and met his piercing gaze. “I know the two of you were. How much did you do for Perseus, Bell? What was his plans?”

“I didn’t do much,” you answer carefully, eyes inscrutable. “I was recovering from my wounds in the cliff and after that I was recovering from the effects of MK-Ultra.” Adler’s expression didn’t change, so you just continued as you sighed. “They didn’t wish me to push myself, after everything. They—one day I just got a folder and I was back to coding again. But,” you say immediately when Adler’s expression seemed to harden, “that was when I decided to do the secret codes to the CIA in secret. They only gave me small jobs either way. Only coding. They. . .they just didn’t want to push me. And what Stitch said was what they basically want.”

You wanted to be careful with your wording. Your feelings are complicated when it comes to the Collective and you don’t need Adler catching it and using it. He did though.

Based on how his lips almost seemed to curl.

“Seems you had nice caring friends, Bell. The homicidal friendly aura’s grew on you?”

Your eyes narrowed, anger rising.

“I don’t expect you to understand!” You thought of what Perseus did for you, with the televisions. How patient he was. You thought of Stitch, his protectiveness when it came to your medicine in needle form and wouldn’t let anyone get too close to hold you all of a sudden where you felt like you would choke. Your eyes grew teary. “You—you out of all people wouldn’t. What they do, their plans—all of it—it’s horrible. I know that! But. . .they were kind to me. Even after everything I did for you, they didn’t care. They just wanted to help me—“

“To use you.” Adler cut in firmly. “You’re a genius, Bell. You got some talent to have the skill set you have—but your coding is where you always shined. They were manipulating you—“

“They weren’t!” You refuse to hear this. How dare he say this anyways?! “And don’t speak like you weren’t above that either! Pot calling the kettle black much, Adler?!”

“I know what I am.” Adler stated quietly, eyes cool. “Just like you do. But do you know what they are? They don’t care about anyone—just using others for their sick ideology. You’re going to defend them?”

“I’m not defending them!” You shouted, aghast. It’s like everything you’re saying is going one ear and out the other. Adler doesn’t think straight when it comes to Perseus. It’s mind boggling. “They helped me with MK-Ultra, what you did. Do you know how long it took me to get a full night’s rest? How long it still takes? I have your memories of Vietnam. I have memories of needles and televisions and being in the lab. Memories of you making me go through those scenarios over and over and over again. I felt like sometimes I saw you everywhere, even awake. They comforted me and took away any triggers for me and they were there when you—“ you cut yourself off sharply, biting your lip and looking away. 

It was silent for a few moments. You didn’t look at Adler when you slowly began again, you wonder if he could even hear you with how softly you spoke.

“Perseus took away any televisions. And if there were, he would leave them on so I wouldn’t. . .wouldn’t see anything. He didn’t push me to work, this was after almost or basically a year passed with them. And it’s because someone else needed my help. He said I didn’t have to do more. Stitch too. Stitch made sure about needles and people not getting close. They. . .I don’t remember anything. I don’t remember my family. Which is why. . . the safehouse. . .” You bit your lip, than continued. “Perseus I think is the closest father I will ever get. And Stitch. . . Stitch. . .” You trailed off, not knowing what to say.

Adler though, as always, read you easily. 

“He loved you.” Your eyes closed, your lips pressing into a frown as Adler nodded over in the direction of Stitch’s body, you barely hearing his mutter that it explained a few things which made your frown deepen. Did Stitch mention something when he had Adler in Laos? “And you killed him. Did you?”

Does it matter? You wanted to ask, but instead your eyes opened in a half lidded state as you answered tiredly. 

“Trust is about control. I remembered.” 

You didn’t want to, but you did. Or rather, you just chose to. You used Stitch’s feelings for your own selfish reasons. To get you here.

Adler’s eyes seemed to turn unreadable as he tilted his head slightly at you.

“So you understand.”

“What?”

Adler stared at you a moment more before breaking his gaze to the side and staying annoyingly silent. Appearing in thought as the silence stretched and the breeze blew by you due to the height you were at. You taking slow breaths as you clenched a fist on your knee before narrowing your gaze at Adler.

“Don’t torture me with this silence. Do it.”

Adler arched a brow slightly at you as he craned his neck back up to where you were at.

“Do what?”

“Kill me. Finish the job. Tie up the loose end. Just hurry up with it, before Hudson comes.”

Adler rose both his brows at you.

“Why would I do that? You have the most information about Perseus now. About who could be the next one. The people. The next possible plans. Everything. It’d be a waste.”

He won’t stop. Even with him dead.

You felt yourself pale.

“Are you going to torture me?”

“Will I have to?”

You briefly contemplated jumping off the tree. It would be quick. Quicker than anything you’ve gotten. You always seemed to bleed slow or be suffocated slowly. You never got it easy. The jump and fading to black would probably be the easiest thing you will ever have.

“You’re a survivor. You’ve always been.”

You steeled your expression and Adler spotted it, seeing you slowly go down the tree and he put his pistol away when you landed in front of him. His arms by his sides like yours and you having to slightly crane your neck up to meet his gaze. Your eyes remained connected before his moved and roved over your form. You doing the same now that you were closer. 

He still smells like cigarettes, you think fondly and saw all the cuts upon him. How ragged he looked, and how the beard just added to it. So different from how you always saw him, sleek and clean. The hair is still distracting.

Your thoughts halted when Adler reached a hand and ripped out the patch on your shoulder with the Perseus symbol, him glaring at it before throwing it away. It landing on the ground a few feet away from them as you looked at Adler with brows slightly pinched together. He took another look at you and gave you an imperceptible nod, his lips pressed in approval before he shifted his stance and put more pressure on one leg.

Is he injured? You took a closer look at him, spotting his tired eyes before spotting a paler spot in his temple when his hair moved before looking at his arms and noticing a pale spot as well as a spot where it looked he got pricked by his veins. Your brows went up. He’s freshly deprogrammed. And he came here immediately. Is he insane?

Yes. He is.

But you’re no better.

“Why did you do this, Bell?” You blinked from your thoughts, noting that Adler is trying to read you as his eyes squinted more from the sun than anything else. “All of it. Why?”

You feel like he knows.

How far you go for loyalty is no secret.

The bastard just wants you to say it.

You leaned back against the tree, crossing your arms and looking to the side towards the tall trees, the direction of the grave site and a body. You thought of breaks outside the safehouse, of clouds of smoke and talks of philosophy and books. Of curious tilts to the head that makes honey hair shift and the relaxed quirk of the lips as he would listen to you. You pointing at a passage of a book and him leaning over your shoulder to see what makes you passionate, your hair rising when you would feel his breath on you and his scent of nicotine and woody cologne overpower your senses. You thought of after Volkov, him going over your injuries and his fingers grazing a bruise on your temple to your cheek as you felt your breath escape you while he just did the action like it was nothing with that nonchalant expression of his, feeling as if his eyes behind his shades were burning. You thought of amused tones and languid body language when he would tease about your pictures and you’re wasting film but he’d let you anyways. Making sure to always tell you to get his good side if you were going to take some of him.

You thought of your head free from your beanie/ski mask for once, his hand over it and fingers almost carding your hair due to a job well done.

“Same reason I said Solovetsky.”

You felt Adler’s gaze on you intensify, but you kept your gaze away and down as you clenched your hands under your crossed arms.

“Try again,” he said, making you throw him a confused look. Your confusion growing when you spotted his scarred lips twitched upward in amusement and eyes almost seeming to soften. “Anyone ever told you, you have bad taste in men?” Your jaw dropped, cheeks pricking as you stared mortified and his lips lifted more before straightening and taking a step towards you. “You need a better reason than that. Try again.” He implored calmly as he eyed you.

You clicked your jaw shut, still keeping your arms crossed tightly to you as you moved your head against the tree to the side. Before looking back up at him and putting your arms back to your sides.

“Obviously it’s because it’s not right to kill millions. In any way.”

Adler nodded at you, moving to grab your sniper and putting the strap over himself before turning back towards you as you watched him go back to your side.

“Make sure you say that to everyone. Especially Hudson.” 

He started walking back to where the grave site was, you hesitantly doing the same as you tried to catch his eyes again but he kept his gaze forward and seemed to be in thought.

“You’re really not going to kill me?” You stated more than questioned, not knowing what to think.

He threw you a side glance, noticing your unease.

“I told you, kid,” he said, looking away with gaze and tone distant. “It’d be a waste.” You didn’t know what to say in reply, only staring at Adler in hopes his expression can perhaps give away something. Besides appearing in thought and tired yet still have this focused air around him. There’s something you’re missing. What happened to him? Did the brainwashing to him actually open his eyes? Or. . . Did he see things like you did during the deprogramming? “You’re going to follow my lead. I’m sticking my neck out for you so make sure you play along.”

“Why?”

You recognized they were getting closer to the grave site, but you kept your gaze on Adler who hummed distractingly.

“Along the same reasoning as you.” 

Your mouth parted but they arrived at the grave site, Adler putting a tight hand on the tombstone with jaw tight as you crouched to where Stitch’s body laid. Throat tight as you stared at his corpse and the blood upon the ground. You made it quick. You made sure. You wonder if Stitch had an inkling and that’s why Naga was here too. 

He’s with Perseus now. The thought made your lips form into a ghost of a melancholic dry smile. No. That’s not right. 

You closed Stitch’s eyes with your fingerless gloved hands, feeling the coolness already from his body. You heard Adler step behind you.

“Did you know?” At your silence, keeping your eyes on Stitch and the hole on his hood and his head, he continued lowly. “What Stitch did to me. You knew?”

“I only knew afterwards,” you say, standing up and turning towards him only to see that he was quite close to you and we’re almost chest to chest with him as he stared at you. You kept your ground as you swallowed lightly. “Like I said, they wanted me mostly focusing on other things.”

Adler snorted humorlessly, turning his gaze to Stitch’s corpse with a narrowing of his icy eyes.

“You can say it. It was karma for what I did to you. You probably thought it was funny.” His face shifted, eyes darkening as his jaw ticked. “I know I would’ve.”

“You shouldn’t have fallen for the trap,” you say instead of directly answering whether he was right or wrong, face disapproving. “Even without deciphering my message about Nova 6, you shouldn’t have taken a light team. You knew what would happen.”

Like you, Adler avoided to answer. Which was an answer in itself as you sighed, putting a hand to your face as Adler’s eyes turned back towards you. You seeing Adler turning his head over his shoulder towards the grave site and staring at it.

“Did he suffer?”

You stared through your fingers at the grave site, biting your lip as you thought of medicine after medicine being pushed through the older man’s body. How pale he looked. How skinny. Where his speech was more like rasps and breaths.

You nodded. Adler giving a strong nod of his own, eyes vicious at the grave and satisfied.

“Good.”

He turned his head back towards you, noting you seeming to bite your tongue as his hands clenched before turning his back towards you and staring at the grave, shoulders appearing drooped. You deciding to join by his side, arms brushing when you reached him before pulling it back to not touch and just stare at the grave site. 

You wish they put his name but you understood why Stitch and the others decided to not. People would desecrate it. And it’s fitting Perseus at least had his favorite flower on it, the symbol of the flower looking harsh and not as beautiful as the real thing could be but still able to capture one’s eyes to look at the pattern. 

“. . . I saw you too.” 

What? Your eyes darted towards Adler, side eyeing him as he spoke lowly. His eyes were staring at your hands between you two, his pistol long put back in its holster on his leg. Saw? Wait. . .did he also. . .? You noticed the holster was in the same area as it was on the cliff. As it should, it was his dominant side. But you thought of the cliffs anyways. Nonetheless, your expression was one of bewilderment as his eyes didn’t stray. You spotted his lips twitch before he rose his eyes and connected to yours, your breath hitching at your throat when he threw you a soft smirk.

“I dreamed of you too, Bell.” You inhaled sharply, eyes widening before Adler’s expression settled as well as yours as your head darted to sounds ahead. Adler went in front of you, his form able to cover you from who was coming. “Stay behind me. And follow my lead.” He lowly commanded and you followed.

You heard Hudson, Woods, and Mason come up. Seeing Stitch’s body and Hudson saying they were wondering what was taking so long. They didn’t even hear his shot. Woods saying that at least the fucker is dead with Mason adding that there’s few things that’s better than killing the ones who fucked your head. 

Not the right words right now, Mason. You thought, cringing internally. But Adler spoke for you.

“It wasn’t me.”

The others threw him various looks of confusion.

“What the fuck you mean it wasn’t you?” Woods questioned. “He has a hole in his head, doesn’t he?”

“If it wasn’t you,” Hudson asked, always focused and getting the bottom of things, “who was it?”

“Adler,” Mason called, voice tense as he brought his gun slightly up. “Who’s behind you?”

You didn’t move. But Adler slightly did to show you to them, hand moving back behind him to keep on your waist just in case. 

“Wha—?! Bell?!” Woods gasped, almost dropping his gun from shock as Mason’s own eyes widened.

“You’re alive. . .”

You threw them a shaky smile and a wave, before dropping both when you could spot Hudson’s tense form.

“Adler,” Hudson toned lowly, dangerously and making you subconsciously grab Adler’s shoulder to help ground you just as Adler gave your waist a comforting squeeze as you stayed behind. “What is the meaning of this? You said you fucking handled her in Solovetsky but she’s breathing and moving to me. She’s dangerous.”

You don’t miss Hudson’s attitude towards you. Even though you’re aware of why he had it before. You still find it distasteful.

“To others maybe,” Adler replied steadily, but there was a hidden coiled tone underneath as he kept his face unreadable as possible without his shades. “I did say she was the one that killed Stitch. Why do you think that is?”

Adler didn’t wait for Hudson’s probable scathing retort, based on how his face seemed to morph into a scowl, moving to explain he thought it a waste to throw someone of Bell’s talents away. So they both formed a plan, Adler did shoot you but not fatally, and allowed you to go back to Perseus to spy on them for him. At this, Hudson stepped up to Adler. Adler straightening his shoulders and letting you go as Hudson got into his face.

“You gave her back to Perseus. . .?! Were you fucking insane?! I didn’t give you leave on this, Russ—no one did!”

“This is fucking crazy. . .” Mason let out, still looking at you as well as Woods and holding onto their weapons but they were pointed down this time. 

Woods huffed, scratching at his beard and looking at you with an expression that almost looked like one of pity as Hudson kept going but Adler kept his frigid stare on the man.

“She knows fucking everything. She could’ve relayed information to Perseus and the rest while she, what—let you get kidnapped and brainwashed as a gotcha?!”

“I didn’t know about that,” you spoke up, almost wishing you hadn’t when Hudson and all his rage went to you and almost seeming to burn brighter when he looked at you. Adler kept his stare on Hudson but you spot his lips pressed in disapproval. “But I did warn him about everything else. I sent coded messages throughout my time there. How do you think you got that message about coming to these specific coordinates?” Hudson’s hard stare didn’t lessen but his brows did furrow. “I warned him beforehand about the mall and Nova 6 being a distraction but they weren’t able to decipher it—but I know other locations and objectives that Perseus planned and was able to tell you and the ones you were able to decipher, you went towards them. I made sure I found as much information as I could but I kept anything else I learned during my time you guys to myself. And don’t blame Adler. It was my idea.”

Hudson switched his gaze back towards Adler, Adler throwing a look at you over his shoulder but you didn’t falter.

“And you decided to accept this, why?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Hudson, would you calm down?!” Woods put a hand to Hudson’s tense shoulder. “You heard her. All those missions we did was because of messages we couldn’t figure out from who,  right? It was Bell!”

Mason stepped up, giving you a small nod in greeting which you gave back.

“It does check out. All the messages about the prison transport in Miami and even the attacks on a NATO base in Germany last year as well as everything else we got always was right. Who knows what other codes we weren’t able to get because of Bell’s unique skill at coding?”

“That doesn’t excuse it and you know it.” Hudson stated coldly, not keeping his eyes off Adler as your once handler kept the the man’s stare even through his black shades. “You kept this information to yourself all this time and chose to not report it at all. Not even Black, I imagine. And you indulged an asset’s idea.”

“Ignore her. It was my idea. And like I said,” Adler said lowly, quietly where you had to strain your ears to hear as his eyes were hard. “I don’t like wasting talent. She’s the best fucking coder I’ve ever seen and you know it, Hudson. She isn’t just an asset. Not anymore. She’s one of us.”

“You’re still one of us.”

You whipped your eyes towards Adler as Hudson continued talking about something or other with Adler continuing to have your back and defending you, continuing the cover he made and you reinforcing it. You released a small smile, the tension in your shoulders releasing. Seeing that Adler is going to stick with what he said, he’s not going to kill you. And it seems he won’t let anyone else either. The conversation moved to Perseus, Hudson questioning if Adler was able to get answers from Stitch before you shot him. 

Adler scowled.

“Perseus is dead. Look behind you.”

The three men looked at the tombstone, you confirming without them asking that it’s true. The Perseus Adler has been chasing died last year from cancer, and Stitch was the new one. Now another one will come along.

“You happen to know who, Bell?” Mason asked and you shrugged slightly, turning your gaze back towards the trees and your position earlier.

“I think it was Naga.” You heard Adler almost growl the name to himself as you continued. ”He was with us as a backup but I handled him before I got, Stitch. I feel like. . . they had an inkling about me. . . Doesn’t matter now. Naga was close to Stitch when it came to the work—the next Perseus could be anybody.”

“You have a better idea than us,” Woods stated, rolling his shoulder slightly as he looked around before scrunching his nose when his eyes moved back to the grave site. “But you can tell us later. Let’s get out of here. I’ve been here too long already.”

All of you began to move, you stepping up to Adler’s side but Hudson stopped both of you by getting in your paths.

“Don’t think this is over.” Hudson moved his sharp gaze between you and Adler, jaw tight at Adler’s apathetic expression. “You both have a lot of interrogation to do when we get back. Black is going to hear of this.”

“I imagine he will,” Adler replied casually, Hudson giving the man another look before throwing you one of severe judgement and turning away. You released a breath when the man was far away enough you didn’t feel like he could hear you, tension leaving your body only to blink when you felt a touch on your head. You looking at Adler who had his brow up a modicum. “I’m trying to keep you alive. I’ll take the hit, Bell. Don’t worry about it.”

Adler released you, stepping away and going back towards the helicopter with one more lingering glance towards the tombstone as you moved to his side.

“But—“

Adler turned his head towards you, cutting you off with a look.

“I said I got it. Try to rest on our way to the safehouse we have here, it’ll be a long ride.”

You feel like any lingering questions you may have is for later too. Everything that’s happened since they were apart will be spoken about one way or another. All the actions, thoughts. . . maybe even emotions.

“I dreamed of you.”

Later, you decide, getting on the helicopter with Adler’s help and you sitting next to him. Exhaustion hitting you immediately, from guarding in the tree for the longest, to the emotions you couldn’t help but feel when you shot Stitch, to the ones you felt when you spoke with Adler and just everything that’s happened to you since that day on the cliffs. And the reason why. Loyalty. I really am dangerous. 

You fell victim to your exhaustion, head slumping over to Adler’s shoulder despite the noise of the chopper and him letting you when he glanced at your peaceful expression. Giving you a once over that you were strapped on tightly, pointedly ignoring three different gazes on him as he adjusted you more to his shoulder with his hand so you’d be more comfortable. The least he could do.

Adler thought of hallucinations that kept him sane in Laos, of dreams that could never be and nightmares that plagued him, of being inside his own mind while being deprogrammed and who he saw to help him guide him out.

It’s the least he could do. After everything he’s done.

Besides, Adler thought darkly as he took another glance at you and your sleeping face, there’s still Perseus to be dealt with. I’ll fucking rip them from the root. 

One thing is for certain for the two of you, it’s how obsessive the two of you are.

After you awoke and gave report along with Adler to Hudson in the safehouse, and glances being shared between you two or stray touches but nothing further than that the next two days before you shared that they had to go to the WWII bunker in Verdansk due to important information being there that the Collective wanted—Adler nodded.

“Alright, Bell. Like old times. You’re with me.” 

You huffed out your nose at the words but nodded anyways with a grim smile.

“Always, sir.”

Onto the next mission.

.

.

.

A/N: Sorry if this feels rushed, it wasn’t even supposed to be this long. And sorry about the no kiss! Didn’t think it would fit. Bell and Adler need more time for a relationship but I’m sure I planted enough seeds for you guys to fill in the lines yourselves that these two are both insane and obsessed—thankfully in Adler’s case—for each other. (He needs other obsessions. To be healthy. Or healthier.)

Maybe I’ll visit this universe again. Depends what they will do with Vanguard since they merged Adler, Woods, Mason, and Hudson into it somehow 💀

I had more of a fun time writing Perseus and Stitch than I thought. With the recent S6 trailer, my interest with Stitch grew exponentially. I can now see what everyone goes on about with him. That Outro revealed a lot to me about that man. Too bad he’s gone now. :/ And Perseus is nice to write too 💗 This was really fun!

Hope you guys enjoyed!

Tell me if you wish to be tagged or not to be tagged for all my works.

Tags: @parkeepingparker @weirdoartist21 @tr1ppylady @gojocat247 @aurora-windu @holy-crap-i-am-russell-adler @mayaibnlaahad @asaltryefl @writer-of-various @zulema117-blog @stupid-stinky @darlingor @zombiequeennxx @salvija

#russell adler #call of duty #black ops cold war #cod #cod cold war #call of duty cold war #cod bell #vikhor kuzmin #vikhor stitch kuzmin #perseus cod #frank woods #alex mason #jason hudson #russell adler x bell #vikhor kuzmin x bell #cod fanfiction

[softcallofdutyimagines]

How would Adler, Hudson, Stitch and Perseus react to their s/o calling them a monster?

Hmmmm 👁️ I'm throwing in Makarov for this too bc 🤪🤪

Adler

You'd think that as a man with a nickname like America's Monster, you'd be use to being addressed as such

And in part, he supposes he is

After all he's done... He knows what he is

So why does it hurt so much to hear it come from you?

He doesn't even try to argue against you

If that's the way you, feel then just go already

Just like she did, before the divorce...

He thought maybe things would be different, that maybe he could change

Looks like he was wrong

Hudson

How dare you say that to him?

He risks his life and sacrifices so much, more then you even know, to keep you and the world you live in safe

Not everything has a pleasant chain events in this line of work

He has to make the hard calls, because no one else will

But believe him... He if didn't, then someone else will

He... He hopes you don't that

That maybe you only said that because you're angry, and not because you believe it

He doesn't like calling the darker shots anymore then you like for him to be doing it

But he does it anyway because he loves you

Makarov

He takes no shame or insult to that label

If anything... He relishes it

He is the monster the world wanted him to be

He has never know trifles such as pity, kindness, or mercy...

Why should he offer such luxuries to a world that couldn't be bothered with him?

His dreams, his desires...

They mean nothing?

Fine. He means to show the world how that feels right back

You may call him a monster...

But you only encourage him by doing so

Perseus

A monster?

Perhaps that is you see

He sees a man with the courage and drive to change the world, to finally make a free and livable way of living for all

Unfortunately, there are many who oppose his ideals

Even worse, they cannot be reasoned with and so they must meet their end...

Nothing will stop him and his mission for a new world

Although it pains him to say it...

Not even you

Stitch

Pft, you think that word hurts him?

He relishes the power it gives him

You knew what he was the moment you met him

If you are just now deciding that you can't handle it... Then that's on you

Although, he will admit it's a bit disheartening to hear it come from you

He thought you were made of something a little tougher then all that

Hopefully you'll come to your senses once you've calmed down

If not, you are free to leave at any time

#call of duty #black ops cold war #modern warfare 2 #russell adler x reader #jason hudson x reader #vladimir makarov x reader #perseus x reader #vihkor kuzmin x reader #stitch x reader

[zulema117-blog]

“We don’t just sit back and hope for the best…we’ll make the best happen.”

#call of duty #black ops cold war #cod #call of duty cold war #cod bell #bocw #fanart #russell adler #russell adler x bell #bell #stitch x bell #vikhor kuzmin #perseus #frank woods x alex mason #frank woods #alex mason #jason hudson #helen park #kapano naga vang #naga cod #bell oc

[cass-the-mess]

🌺 About Me 🌺 I'm Cass, I'm 24

I'm an avid reader of all things and more recently and tentatively, a writer as well. I write mostly for myself and to help clear my mind, therefore I am not consistent in producing material, but I'm ever so grateful to see that people enjoy what I put out, and it motivates me to write even more!

*** This blog is mainly NSFW, what I post and repost may containt adult themes, please browse at your own risk, I do not want to interact with minors and I will block accounts that do not display their age on their blogs. ***

💫 My interests as of now are mainly Baldur's Gate 3, Cyberpunk 2077, God of War, Call of Duty Cold War & Call of Duty Modern Warfare II.

💫 I do not follow a set schedule for writing (even though I wish I could), but I do tend to post in advance when I'm planning to release something!

💫 I'm a veterinary nurse and passionate about all things animal health and welfare, so you might randomly see me post about such things to raise awareness! I am open to questions, but please know that I can only offer advice and any medical concerns should be addressed by a veterinarian! ❣️🐶

🌺 Masterlist 🌺 Call of Duty 🌺

** PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS FOR EACH WORK, THERE MAY BE THEMES THAT COULD MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE **

Callsign: Zero (18+ Captain John Price X Reader) (Ongoing Series on AO3 - ON HIATUS)

2 years ago you saved John Price from an untimely death, only to disapear without a trace before he could thank you properly for getting him back home safe. You show up again 2 years later to help the task force defeat a new enemy. Tensions rise as you show your true colors and navigate through unresolved issues that puts you and your new team at risk. Are you willing to finally open up or do you keep pushing everyone away to keep yourself "safe".

TW for each chapter may differ, I flagged specific ones at the beginning of each new chapter, but general cw for canon typical violence, gore, past s*xual trauma.

Was it Real (18+ Vikhor "Stitch" Kuzmin x Bell! Reader)

Bell manages to break out of Adler's mind control early on in the game. She infiltrates the KGB to hopefully reconnect with the current leader of Perseus himself Stitch, angst ensues, old feelings emerge, betrayal happens, they deal with it in the most reasonable way: Shmex :)

CW: Dark themes, dubious content, SMUT, office sex, ex-lovers to enemies to lovers? Stitch is a bad guy ish, possessive sex, degrading, PWP, canon typical violence (this is COD) but not the main theme of this, they're in love but it's complicated because she's a double agent, not really a happy ending but also not a sad ending.

Take me Home (18+ due to violent & distressing themes Captain John Price x Reader)

What if Price was the one to fall by the hands of Makarov?

TW: Major character death, blood, gore, injury description, ANGST!! No happy ending here folks.

🌺 Masterlist 🌺 Baldur's Gate 3 🌺

To Build a Home (18+ Halsin x Durge!Reader x Astarion) (WIP)

Set 6 months after the events of the game, you deal with the aftermath of rejecting Bhaal and the urge, you and Astarion finally decide to go see Halsin in Thaniel's realm in hopes of rekindling your old flames.

TW: TBA

#call of duty modern warfare ii #call of duty #captain john price #cod modern warfare #captain price #john price #john price x reader #callsign: zero #modern warfare #captain price x reader #call of duty cold war #stitch call of duty #vikhor kuzmin #vikhor stitch kuzmin #bell call of duty #cold war #russell adler #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #halsin x reader #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion bg3 #the dark urge #bg3 durge #halsin baldur's gate 3 #halsin bg3 #durge x astarion #durge x halsin

[keiossance]

Perseus/Adler/Stitch: *exists & breathes*

The fandom & (probably) Bell:

Saw this in Tiktok and I had to do it

(Not guilty with having such thoughts 😎🍸)

#call of duty cold war #cod cold war #black ops cold war #perseus #russell adler #vikhor stitch kuzmin #perseus x bell #perseus x reader #russell adler x reader #russell adler x bell #stitch x reader #stitch x bell #or any war criminal you could think of that you fell for #REALLY #💖h a r d💖

[cryinginthebackseat]

you’ve got more poison than sugar - part iv

AO3  part i  part ii  part iii

Fandom: Call Of Duty

Pairing: Russell Adler x Bell

Words: 5.856

Warnings: some mild sexual content and swearings, like usual. 

Author’s note: hello, hello, i'm back. it's been 6 months since the last time i updated and I'm truly sorry for the delay, but i ran out of inspiration the first 2-3 months trying to write down this beast of a chapter, but thank god i managed to pull through. a word of warning, though, this chapter is quite the emotional rollercoaster ride to read so, buckle up, fellas *laughs nervously*

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“my hunger burns a bullet hole, a spectre of my mortal soul,” - radiohead

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Adler learns two things:

Bell is most definitely, unimaginably loud in bed. A contrast to her usual close-lipped routine.

He thinks he can’t get enough of her taste. If he has to choose between heaven and that baby doll softness between her thighs, he'd choose her over and over again even if he'd burn in hell for it.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

March 8

It seems a tad too pedestrian and normal, that they're now sitting side by side in her bed, naked, chain-smoking. His hand caresses the inside of her thigh. She's still warm there.

“Tell me something, have we ever done this before?” Bell asks in that sleepy, scratchy, post-sex drawl that never fails to strike him in the heel.

“Done what?” he asks, being purposely obtuse.

Bell rolls her eyes. “This. Fucking, getting it on, going all the way- whatever the heck you want to call it."

“No,” Adler admits. “Our relationship had always been strictly professional, actually.”

“Until now.”

Adler can’t help the smirk pulling his mouth. “Until now,” he echoes her words. “You don’t exactly make it easy for me, Bell- you never have," he quickly amends.

She nods and takes another drag of her menthol cigarette. Her face is shuttered, calculating, in other words, dangerous, nothing like the raw openness he’d seen her hours ago. The memory of it sits tangible and confusing on him. Adler remembers everything: the hot, wet clutch of her around his cock as she came, her blunt nails marking red all over his back, her mouth pressed against his cheek as he felt her skin overheat under his.

He’d licked at his teeth when she went to the bathroom.

He knows what Bell tastes like now.

“Why now, though? What changed?” she asks now, honestly curious. “Did it really take Alex to stick his cock inside me for you to finally cave?”

Beside her, Adler goes still as a bomb. His sex-addled brain carefully considers his answer. How awful if she caught his smoke and mirrors now, of all times.

Fortunately, it’s easy to slip back behind his mask. “No. No, it’s not like that.” He’s been taught to shapeshift to get what he wants. It’s easy like this, lying. “I was married,” he continues.

“Oh… Oh, right.”

A miniature of pause stretches. A breath escapes her; a start of a laugh, tinged with something that sounds a lot like embarrassment or frustration.

“Actually, no, I don’t have any recollection that you were married," she admits, voice unsteady. "Hell, I barely recognized you when I woke up."

He is left staring at this beautiful, abused, raw woman beside him. If he must kill her, he might as well make it matter.

"Hey," Adler says softly. "Look at me." Bell, however, remains stubbornly still, so he grasps her chin with his free hand and tilts her face towards his. She looks up at him with a vulnerability he’s never seen in her before, no sharp edges, no mask.

"Hey,” he says again and kisses her forehead, her temple, her cheek. “It’s alright, Bell. You’re alright. These things take time, but you don't have to shoulder this all on your own. You've got me."

She pulls away and looks at him, her eyes searching. “Yeah?”

He holds her gaze, but he’s confident he’s giving nothing away. This doesn’t have to mean anything, he tells himself. Nothing at all.

“Yeah." The words roll off his tongue perfectly. Lying to her is easy. "Yeah, you've got me."

Only sometimes, Adler wonders if the guilt he’d feel for telling the truth would be less than the guilt he feels for lying to her.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Bell walks him to the door, barefoot and indolent. He decides not to stay. There’s no reason for making this than what it already is. Except Adler doesn’t know what any of this is supposed to mean.

She'd snatched the blanket off the foot of the bed and draped the quilt around her naked form. She's quiet now, like she's thinking or maybe she’s regretting what they've done.

Adler wouldn't hold it against her if it's the latter. He knows damned well he wasn’t supposed to fuck her, he has no clue why he did what he did and now he can still smell her all over him, taste her when he moves his tongue and Jesus Christ, he really is fucked, isn’t he?

He saunters past her, hand reaching out the doorknob. Bell grabs him by the wrist and he turns back to look at his hand, their hands, then glides up to her face. Her face is that hard to read in the semi-darkness, but there’s a nervous glint in her eyes.

“Bell?”

She doesn’t move; her fingertips are cold against the cuff of his leather jacket.

“Do you really need to go?” Bell asks glibly.

Adler blinks. The corner of his jaw leaps, a twitch. It doesn’t matter, his head says. None of this has to mean anything, but he’s desperate to know. “Do you not want me to go?”

“I don’t know.” She’s frowning now, still not letting go of his wrist. “I don’t think so.”

Something like fear settles over him. It’s not Bell he’s afraid of, not anymore. It’s him. He’s afraid of what he's about to do.

“What do you want, Bell?”

He moves his hand and entwines it with hers. His body bows towards hers until their foreheads touch. Their noses bump together. She smells exactly like him- or is it him like her? There is no telling which is which anymore.

Bukowski once said: 'There is always somebody about to ruin your day, if not your life.'

Bell mustn't know that she’s ruining him. It’s not like he’s keeping tally, after all, how could he know this city was tailor-made for his downfall? But she will. She’s already ruined him.

“What do you want?" Adler whispers, his mouth- his cheek is rough with stubble as it’s pressed against hers. "Tell me."

Bell exhales, like relief. Then she does: “Stay.”

He doesn't react, doesn't move. He’s weak. This is a fall of his own making. He’s chosen this, not Mason, not Perseus. But his.

“Say it again.”

"Stay, Russell." A drag of mouth and teeth over the hinge of his jaw and he fucking caves every single time. "Please."

Adler sighs, like he’s been waiting for that word all his life. No one has ever asked him to stay and said it like they mean it. Of course he stays.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

March 9

In the morning, Adler ties his shoes on the bed he fucked her on last night, but they get ready with the unspoken agreement to arrive at the Garage separately.

He’s to leave first. Bell approaches him, handing him his jacket. He, at least, has the grace of keeping a straight face about this strange domestic dynamic going on between them.

Bell brings her mouth closer to his.

“Be careful,” she says and then she kisses him, almost tenderly compared to last night.

He nods- don’t worry, it says- and pulls her to him. Adler knows her this way now, the shape of her body against him, her face close to his, close enough to hit save.

“Don’t forget to take your meds,” Adler utters. He kisses her bare shoulder and moves towards the door, wondering why he did that. “I’ll see you at the safehouse.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Adler had to trudge through a ridiculous amount of dossiers to find replacements for Mason and Woods since they’d deserted the team, but he found them- a Marco Ocaña and a Gary D'alessio. One of those sharp-jawed, dark-haired, no-nonsense types that remind Adler, unfortunately, of two things in the following order: they’re only half as effective as their predecessors and the blame for this is exclusively, solely on his shoulders.

And now they’re here, picking up where Mason and Woods had left off. But it’s not the same.

Adler is looking over the evidence board, reviewing the intel they’ve gathered so far on Hastings, when Sims appears at his side.

"What's your reading on the temperature, doc?" Sims asks suddenly. There’s only them in the corner, while the rest of the room moves around them.

“What, on Hastings?" Adler asks back, not looking away from the board.

"No." And Adler twists his head to him, a curious brow raised. Sims nods his head towards the direction Adler can’t see. "Ice cube with his new chewing toys yonder."

Adler turns around. Halfway across the room, Hudson orders and barks in that cold, machine gun staccato; D’alessio pages through a black leather binder, laser focus; while Ocaña, the unwilling understudy, frowns behind the desk. It’s the fucking Jason Hudson special.

Faint amusement crowds Adler’s face. “Someone’s thinking of knocking Hudson’s teeth off, someone’s actually going to do it."

Sims snorts. "Man, I'd pay to see that happening."

"Get in the fucking line." They both smirk. Adler turns back to the board. Neither speaks for a moment. "So, you wanna cut the shit and tell me what's eating you?”

Sims' face goes cagier, before he laughs, wry and forced. “Hang on, I’m getting there,” he drawls.

"I mean, small talk? You?" Adler's smirk grows. "You really have gotten old, haven't you?"

"Yeah well, fuck you, doc."

Adler chuckles. "Hey, hey, relax. I'm just trying to pull your leg a little, Law."

"Uh uh. Right. Jesus, why did I even bother volunteering for this operation again?" he says, but his lips still tilt up into a small smile. Then it slips off of Sims’ face, as if it was never there. “But yeah, I wanted to ask you something.”

Adler thinks he knows what it is, but nods anyway.

“Why did you do it?” Sims asks with that practiced carefulness. There it is: the real purpose of this conversation. “Why did you tell him?”

A breath escapes Adler. The thing is, he doesn’t think he has the answer to that either (this is false. He does know, but refuses to call it by name and he’s not sure what to do with that), but there is that ambivalence to what feels good and what’s right, and it just struck him, with resignation and dread-filled clarity, how he would purposely take the path that gains the most collateral until he's fucked and that’s awful. Awful because it fucks up most of everything external in his life and for some reason, he can't stop. He keeps doing it over and over again, fucking himself straight in the ass and then feeling bad at everything, and then going ballistic nuts and then fucking things up even more until eventually he has no choice but to sack up and clean the mess he's made.

“I don’t know,” Adler says after a pause, “I guess I thought I was doing what’s necessary to win.”

Sims nods, like he’s expecting that kind of answer from Adler. “And was it worth it?”

Was it? The answer to that he thinks, the one he refuses to take at face value let alone consider, is that he knows he can’t always test his strength and luck by how far he can bury himself and dig himself out at the last second. One day, it’ll bite him in the ass.

One day, he is going to reap what he sows.

He ducks his head. “No,” Adler finally says. “Fuck no.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It has started drizzling when Bell slips inside the car.

They're a few odd blocks away from the safehouse, where she had waited alone for him on a chilly, blustery March night.

Bell ducks her head into the collar of her coat as she makes a beeline for his car. Adler reaches across and opens the passenger door from inside.

“Hi,” she says, as she enters. Her hair’s damp and messily pulled back at the nape of her neck and she looks impossibly astronomical like this, in the brusque lights of his car. But a beautiful beast will always be a beast, and he mustn't forget that at the end of the day, this is all just a game. “Where are we going?”

Adler puts the car into gear. “How’s Italian for dinner sounds to you?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

After dinner, they left straight to her hotel.

Bell lets him fucks her again that night, into her desk where all her medicine and papers are sprawling haphazardly on the tabletop. The wood cries out and thuds noisily against the wall. His mouth finds her breasts through her lacy bra and bites. Bell whines. She takes what he gives her. She grabs onto his shoulder, her other hand roughly twisting into his hair and pulls and something jackknives in him. Something primal. He doesn't stop fucking her, murmuring, "that's it. Come for me, Bell," in her ear until she's shaking violently and he feels her coming apart around him.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

March 10

He wakes up before Bell does and slips out of her bed to get ready.

He pads back into the room from the bathroom, scooping up his clothes only to hear Bell stirs in the bed. Adler turns to face her, eyeballing the curious lines of her flesh as she stretches and mewls, that narcotic way she moves. Her nipples are pink and bruised from where his teeth had grazed them; her legs parted slightly.

And he can't fucking look away. He should really look away. He can only look at her and the satisfied quirk of her mouth suggests that she was aware.

“Morning,” Bell mumbles in a yawn, feigning innocence. That minx.

“Hey,” he replies, his throat suddenly feels tight. “Did I wake you?”

“No, I usually get up around this hour.” She stretches and yawns again. She looks at him. “Well, you’re all dressed up.”

"Thought I’d head downstairs and get us something to eat. Are you hungry?”

Her mouth suddenly spreads into a closed-mouth grin. “Famished,” she intones, voice low and there’s a bit of that coy, I have my finger on the pulse of those who crave me, neo-noir undercurrent to it.

She props herself up on her elbows, spreads her legs wider. He can see her that much clearer now, wet and bare just for him.

“Okay.” He takes off his sunglasses and tosses them carefully onto the table. “What will you have?”

She frowns, confused lines drawn between her eyebrows.  “I wasn’t talking about food.”

Carefully, Adler sheds his jacket. He comes to her and it's like a wild animal wearing his skin every time. There’s that wanting again, that impulse pulsing through him, to the point where the ocean demands violence and the only thing left to do is drown.

So he does.

“Neither was I.”

And then he gets down on his knees.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

In his car with Bell, on the way to drop her off at a nearby bus stop, Adler sees her rubbing her temple and wincing ever so often.

Adler places his hand on her thigh and asks, “You okay?”

Bell turns to look at him, glassed-off blank, like she’s being sedated. “Hmm?”

A frown quickly descends over his face, tinged with something akin to fear. “You keep rubbing your temple. Headache?”

Bell turns his hand over, her fingertips soft against his skin. “Yeah.” Her hand closes around his then, and holds him in place. Like he’s her only anchor. “Yeah. It’ll usually pass, though. Don’t worry about it.”

But he worries anyway, especially when he can tell from the sidelong look she gives him it’s not true, but now his tongue is chained to the roof of his mouth.

“Okay,” Adler eventually forces the word out. The record crackles. “Let me know if it gets worse." And she nods.

There’s no denying it, time is catching up to them. Their two week is almost up. It’s moving fast. They need more time.

Maybe he’s only deluding himself at this point. After all, he knows all too well there is only one way this could go and it usually ain’t with the two of them walking out of this alive. It’s when you know what you’re up against, when you know the dyad that is Bell and Adler is never meant to form a line and the possible answer narrows itself down to that single marker in the center of the screen. Only that.

But Russell Adler is just human. Without his persona and gravitas, he’s no one. Only a name; a man. And for once, Adler lets that man govern his emotions.

Maybe that’s why he allows himself this one moment of weakness, when he wishes they had more time.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

There’s a knock on the door. Adler switches his gaze from the papers to the door only to see Park marches inside his office furiously.

“You’re playing with fire,” she declares once the door’s locked.

Across the desk, Adler’s face is cautious and cold, his posture stiff. Park isn’t dumb, he should have known that it’s only a matter of time before she finds out.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She points an accusatory finger at him. “You bloody well know what I’m talking about,” Park spits out, waspish. She stands there, fucking staring daggers at him; a gun with its safety switched off. “Or do you want me to drag her in here to jog your memory a bit?”

Adler scowls at her, then exhales. It’s time to face the music, he thinks. He needs to choose his next words carefully.

But first, “How did you know?”

“I am not the one who wears sunglasses indoors, thank you very much.”

Adler sighs. “Who else knows?”

“I’m not sure, but Lazar already has a sneaking suspicion about the two of you. So, I’ll say it again: you’re playing with fire.”

"I know what I'm doing."

“Oh, yes, of course. I’m sure you do.” Her voice laced with sarcastic mockery. “I thought the point of telling Mason about her is to nip this in the bud?”

“No, Mason was gambling the whole operation because he couldn’t save his own marriage and needed someone to keep his bed warm. This is different,” Adler says, almost sounding like he really believes it.

“And how is this exactly any different?” she demands.

“Because none of this is real.” He doesn’t know why he says it, but it is the truth- a sliver of it, at least. It’s the first time Adler acknowledges it aloud, though, and in a way, he’s got to thank Park for making him say this. At times, it’s so easy to let the lines become a blur until it’s like looking into a blank sheet of glass. “It’s nothing. Just a ploy to keep her close."

Park is quiet for a while. Adler can tell she still doesn’t approve of any of this, but a pause means uncertainty; it means she’s considering this.

“Christ, Adler,” she says, softer now and shakes her head, once and then again. “You’re putting everything we’ve built on the fucking edge here and if it plummets, do you really think you come back from this?”

“If everything goes according to the plan, then it won’t come to that.” But Park doesn’t look convinced. “Park, trust me. It’s all sewn up. I wouldn’t have done this if the odds weren't in our favor.”

“That doesn’t mean I approve of this… this farce.”

“Listen, I understand your concern, but save it for somewhere else, hmm? I’ve got this,” Adler argues.

“Alright.” She holds a hand up. “Alright, fine. I just thought it would be unconscionable for me if I didn't say anything regarding this."

"And I hear you."

"Oh, you better." Then she spins on her heel to leave and scoffs, as if he's nothing but a lowly piss boy at a tavern. "Men and their cocks."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Later, he tells Bell about his little ‘tête-à-tête’ with Park and to his utmost surprise, Bell snorts and laughs.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” She waves her hand half-heartedly at his confused stare. “Well, it’s not really a nothing, actually, but Park once warned me about you. Told me to give you a- quote-unquote- ‘wide berth’.”

Adler hums, like it’s funny. Maybe it is. Maybe the point of this whole thing is to see who has the last laugh.

“That’s one way to phrase it.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

March 11

Here’s another way to phrase it:

He finds Bell crying that night. It’s 2 am.

A harsh breath escapes her. Sounding like a pained gasp, then she opens her eyes and sits up, her body angling towards the door. Adler watches as Bell stays that way for a solid 2 minutes. There is something way off about her, like she's forgotten whose skin she lives in. She's gripping the bedsheets so hard like she's hurting even if her face is blank.

Honest concern rushes through him. Adler makes his way to her. He stops in front of her and kneels before her by the bed.

“Bell?”

And just like that, the spell breaks. Bell blinks at him. And refocuses.

And then she fucking sobs.

“Bell, what’s wrong?” He places a comforting hand on her shoulder, the other on her cheek. She says nothing. Her whole body’s shaking. “Bell?”

“I can’t,” she chokes out, a wet gurgle sound. “I can’t. I-” she sniffs and groans. “Russell, it hurts.”

“What hurts?”

She’s breathing heavily. Bell grabs his hand on her cheek and holds it, her grip white-knuckled. Then, she drops their joined hands down over her chest. Adler can feel her heart beneath it; beating, alive.

“I don’t know,” Bell squeaks. “Everything. Everything hurts.”

Adler stills, the fear overwhelms him now. “Bell,” he says, careful and slow. “Bell, I’m here, sweetheart.” And pulls her into his arms. He doesn’t know what else there is to do. “It’s alright. I’m here.”

Her crying stops as suddenly as it started. Adler notices the shift, her body going lax before his and she’s slumping against his chest now. She’s asleep.

He gently lays her back onto the bed, tucks her in, rearranges her pillows. Adler doesn’t know how he finds the strength to rise and walk away, but he does.

He walks to the armchair and collapses atop the velvety upholstery.

Bell slips back to dreaming. Peaceful amidst all this mess that keeps on piling in his head.

Adler sits there, like a statue, staring up at the ceiling.

He doesn’t sleep for the rest of the night.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“How are you feeling?”

Bell cranes her head and stares at him with the mildest of embarrassment. “I’m okay.” She’s not. There are bags under her eyes; Adler never noticed her pallor beneath her skin, but he sees it now. Everyone in the Safehouse would have guessed the breakdown she had last night. “I’m sorry you had to see all of that.”

Adler ignores her. “Does this happen often?”

“No, that was the first time it happened,” she says, sounding steady enough.

Adler closes his eyes. Shit. He’s pretty sure he’s aged fifty years just about now. The things this operation does to him.

“Then we need to tell Park about this. If she thinks you need a pharmaceutical intervention, I can notify the OMS to switch your medications and we could monitor for any developments from there,” he tells her.

Bell doesn’t react for a while. Then folds her arms over her chest and heads to the chair. She takes a seat. Adler remains standing, pacing; restless and distracted. It’s spiraling, the ticking grows faster. They fucking need more time.

“I don’t know. Sometimes I think maybe we’re trying to fight a losing battle here,” and Bell pauses, her mouth twisting into a sad smile. “Sometimes, I think maybe I’m living on borrowed time.”

Adler glances at her in surprise, his mouth thins. “Bell, don’t say that.”

She leans back in her chair, like she’s about to cry and goes on, “The truth is, I’m very scared of living like this.” Here she is, the woman whose life he has shattered into million pieces and she is showing him every single shard. “Ever since I woke up, I feel like I’m being thrust inside this confusing, never-ending hall of mirrors and I try- I’ve been trying to find the way markers, anything that could get me out of here, but,” she shrugs. “It’s like every turn I make always leads me back to square one and I don’t know what to do about it.”

Adler can only look at her. He can't have this conversation; he doesn’t trust himself for it.

“I’m tired, Russell,” she continues, voice wavering. This time, a tear does fall from her eye. “I’m so, so tired of being so… lost. I’m trying so hard not to lose hope, but hope is not exactly something you could see in a dark room.”

“No.” Adler breathes out the word more than he says it. “No, it’s not. But you have to have it.”

“I know. I do.” She wipes the tear away from her face. Bell looks down at her hands, knotted together in her lap. “It’s you, you know? I know you’re technically my handler, but you do make it easier for me to see in the dark. So, thank you for that.”

Something nonnegotiable crawls over him. She might as well have slapped him, she might as well have put a stake through his heart.

Nonetheless, he moves to sit beside her. Body moving on autopilot. The inward pull of the noose around his neck tightens.

“I’ll be here. I told you I’m not going anywhere, Bell.”

Bell nods, once then again before she starts to cry into his arms. Adler lets her tears ruin his shirt, lets her hold onto the last bit of hope. He feels sick. For the first time since he's destroyed her, he feels poisoned.

“Do you think I'll ever get better?” Bell asks into his shoulder, looking up at him beseechingly. “You know me, do you think I’ll get through this?”

"You will,” he says, slowly, and the trap door opens. His body collapses. Suffocate.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

In the Safehouse, Lazar tapes several documents on the board regarding Hasting’s recent movements and, to Adler’s curiosity, a single note card which reads: “The only victories which leave no regret are those which are gained over ignorance.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“So, it's not enough that you brainwashed her, you're also fucking her into submission?”

“It’s not like that.”

Hudson had cornered Adler in the garage earlier. There was that expectant coldness on his face, like anything else can be used against him.

“We need to talk,” he spat out. “Meet me at Die Stube once you’re don-”

“The bar?” Adler interrupted. “What, we’re mixing business with leisure now?”

"No, because I can't exactly shoot you at point-blank range in a public place."

"That didn't seem to be an issue for Michael Corleone."

"Yeah, well, I'm not Michael fucking Corleone." Since Adler isn’t planning on signing up for an early death and for lack of anything else, he agreed.

“You must be desperate,” Hudson continues now. “To do this. What, the girls back at home didn’t do it for you anymore?”

Adler doesn’t take the bait. “Sure. Whatever the fuck you say, Hudson.”

“I’ll admit, I thought you’re above these things.”

“What did Sun Tzu say again? All warfare is based on deception.”

“I’m pretty sure Sun Tzu didn’t tell you to fuck your enemies, Russ,” Hudson drawls.

Adler’s mouth twists. “Is that why we’re here? You, grilling about my personal affairs until I hit well-done?”

“Oh, it’s personal now?”

“Whether it is personal or not, you have no right to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong. Let alone on my operation,” Adler says coldly. Hudson’s frown deepens.

“Technically, if you managed to upend this whole operation just because you couldn’t keep it to yourself, I’m the next in line to the throne.”

He should have seen this coming. Hudson only cares for what he can control or who he can undermine and cast out like garbage just to get what he fucking wants. It’s a ruthless game.

Adler leans forward in his stool, places his glass down noisily on the desk. “Listen to me very carefully,” he says. “If you think you can intimidate me and steal everything I have bled and fought for from me, then you really don’t know me at all. You are not in control here, Hudson. If you have problems with the way I operate my operation, then feel free to walk the fuck out like Mason and Woods did.”

“Then tell me something in return,” he’s quick to parry. “If somehow, by a miracle, you get the chance to save her- when push comes to shove and it’s either putting a bullet in her head or not, which one do you choose?”

“You damn well know which one I’d choose.”

Hudson quirks a brow, near mockingly. “Do I?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Are you doing this for us or for yourself?”

Funny, his wife had once asked him the same question, years ago before she took a French exit out of his life.

They had plans. They were supposed to move upstate- a change of scenery would do them good, he’d thought; maybe have kids. They would reinvent and thrive and get together and all that shit married couples around their ages do. They thought they could be happy there.

“Why are you even asking me this? Of course I'm doing this for us."

She shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said. “Sometimes I feel like I hardly know you at all.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

March 12

This is what will happen:

In less than 14 hours from now, they will catch a plane to Cuba. She will be sitting next to him and they will be talking about the weather, the travel magazine she’d bought at the airport.

He will assign her with Lazar and Park for the mission. She will nod and head into the other room to get ready, and he will follow. At this point, he will not remember why he’s doing this- why he’s being this reckless. This dime-store fascination, the corruption that is spreading through their veins; they’re all merely afterthoughts.

He will pull her into his arms and kiss her. “Be careful,” he will say.

And she will nod- don’t worry, it will say- and pull away from him. They’d done this before. The familiarity had scared him then, it will scare him now.

“I’ll see you on the other side, milyj,” Bell will reply. She will walk out of that door. He will let that happen.

Oh, he will let so many things happen.

But there is only now . And now Adler and Bell are reading in her hotel room. Now, Louis Armstrong is playing on the radio, crooning a song he’s once heard before. Again, there is something so irrationally domestic and quiet to this; a life that is normal enough to belong to anyone who makes up the landscape of anything average.

She is with him, and he’s with her. It’s as simple as that.

Bell is sitting across from him on the armchair, knees pulled up to her chest. She’s watching him, grinning.

Adler looks up from his book.

He chuckles low.

"What are you smiling about?” he asks kindly, his mouth stretches in a line that mirrors her own.

Bell shakes her head. "Nothing.”

Adler lifts an eyebrow. He puts aside his book on the coffee table. The smile never leaves his face as he says, “Come here.”

She does. Bell gets to her feet, giddy and impatient, and crosses the distance between them. Adler pulls her wrist closer and she straddles him on the couch.

Adler tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "Tell me?”

Bell doesn’t say a thing for a beat, but her face grows serious. There is a lack of knowledge of what’s about to come out of her mouth.

"I like this," she tells him, gesturing to the world around them: her book he was reading, his shirt clinging onto her lithe frame, the music that is playing, the pale sunlight creeping through the sheer curtains- this little corner of the world they’ve been hiding together for the past few days.

"Me too."And he knows without a doubt that he means it.

Adler really can’t help himself- not when it comes to her. He knows that now. He feels like Bell might understand him fully, if he lets her; that she’s the reflection he sees in his hall of mirrors- and his opposite; that he’s that lost, that lonely too, despite everything he’s done.

He doesn’t really know what any of this means, he never did. He’s crossed that line- or if there was even a line in the first place and now he could not return.

Park was right, you don’t come back from this, no matter what will happen.

You just don’t.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

March 13

He heard the explosion through his earpiece and the first line of thought that hit him was Bell.

The plane seems to be swallowing him up. Adler runs a hand through his messy hair. His gloves are hot and sticky with blood. His hair’s permeated with it too now. Ocaña and D'alessio are looking at him worriedly. They heard it too, the moment the RPG hit them. The look on their faces tell him that nothing good can come out of this, but Adler refuses to cling to mere assumptions.

“We’ve got contact on the Ground team.” The pilot’s comm buzzes and Ocaña quickly rise from his seat, makes his way to answer.

“Did we manage to get all of them?” he asks, looking sidelong at Adler.

“Negative. Confirmed contact on one personnel, over.”

The three men exchange looks with each other.

Something cold lurches in Adler’s chest. “One?”

At that very moment, Adler’s earpiece crackles.

“-dler, do yo-” the line goes static, “ead me?”

Park.

“Park,” he exhales, almost like a relief. “What the fuck happened? What’s your status?”

“We’ve been compromised. Bell-” another static, “ She-” A gunshot rings on her end. “-eft us. I don’t have much time,” her voice grows shaky, like she’s holding back tears.

Did he hear that right? “What did you say?” Adler asks. “Park, did Bell abandon you down there?”

Adler can hear a man barking in Spanish on her other end, followed by another gunshot. He thinks he hears Lazar screaming, but he does think he’s losing focus here.

He approaches the pilot cabin. He’s shaking so hard with repressed anger, frustration. This is all so fucked up. He needs to do something about this.

“Park, listen to me. We’re coming back to get you and Lazar, do you hear me? So, sit tight,” he yells. “We're coming back for you two.”

“No.” And then: “I’ve done my part,” she utters slowly, an invocation passed by one soldier to another on the battlefield, their enemies growing closer on the horizon and something switched behind Adler’s eyes.  

“Now it’s your turn.”

One final gunshot and the line goes dead.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Notes: sooooooooo, yeah, please don't kill me. also the song that is playing on march 12 section is louis armstrong's we have all the time in the world, so if you know you know.

#russell adler x bell #russell adler #adler x bell #cod bell #cod #call of duty #call of duty black ops #call of duty cold war #cod cold war #alex mason #frank woods #helen park #lawrence sims #jason hudson #lazar azoulay #vikhor stitch kuzmin #vikhor kuzmin

[hedgehogsaretheultimatelifeform]

Spoilers for S6 Outro

Gravestone

Stitch was waiting for him.

“Where is Perseus?”

Of course. There was the Adler he knew. Straight to the point.

“You still don’t understand, do you. Americans.” Stitch shook his head. “Perseus isn’t just one man. It never was.”

“Where is he?” Adler demanded, aiming his gun towards Stich.

“He’s gone. Cancer took him in ‘83.” Stitch watched as Adler’s brow furrowed. He didn’t believe him. “He was not the first Perseus, just as I will not be the last.”

“You’re coming with me. There’s blood on your hands.”

Stitch laughed. “And there isn’t on yours? Why do you think we are here?” His gaze drifted to the gravestone.

Adler followed it. “That his?”

“No. I found them at the bottom of a cliff, not far from Solovetsky. I buried them because you never would.” Stitch stepped closer, chancing Adler’s distraction as he looked at the gravestone.

“There’s no name on it.” Adler spoke quietly, looking back at Stitch.

Stitch laughed. “Yes, because you knew their name.”

Adler stiffened.

“Did you think I’d mark their grave with your little pet name for them? What was their real name Adler?” Stitch goaded. His chances of walking away from this alive was low, he knew that, he planned that. That’s why it would be here. He wanted to be with them in death. Not even Adler was going to stop him in that.

“I don’t know.” Adler admitted, pointing his gun at Stitch again. “I know what you’re doing. Your bullshit numbers won’t work so you’re trying to get in my head a different way. Bell... meant nothing to me.”

“Yes, they did. You Americans are so sentimental.”

“You’re not walking out of this alive.” Adler snarled, gripping his gun tighter.

“I count on it. My work was done before your… little act of rebellion.” The men’s pacing around each other meant they’d swapped places again. “I’ve changed the world, Adler. In ways you can’t even imagine.”

Stitch rested his fingers on the gravestone.

“It’s funny. If you hadn’t killed them, we probably wouldn’t be here.” He gazed into the golden sun. “Go on. Finish what you started.” His finger trailed down over the scar on his eye.

A gunshot.

#cod bocw #cod cold war #russell adler #cod bell #call of duty #bell #vikhor kuzmin #vikhor stitch kuzmin #stitch #cod stitch #stitch x bell #perseus #cod perseus #bell deserved better smh

[whimsywispsblog]

Spades

As the deafening sounds of the chopper and the gush of dry wind and dust came to a halt, Vikhor looked up to the warm orange skies one last time before turning away towards the man he despised the most. But he wasn't going to let that ruin his admiration towards the brief moment of tranquillity he got. Probably the last angelic hush he would ever get. It was nice, almost like a fully finished circle. The first time he ever got to enjoy such a serene evening was when he was a newly married man. Well, a few seconds, freshly married man. The skies were orange too then, but with more joy and laughter and kisses. (Y/N). A small ghostly smile appeared on Vikhor's lips briefly, vanishing just as fast as he finally turned towards his arch-nemesis: Russell Adler. Capitalist dog. A monster. Killer. Spawn of the devil destined to burn and rot in hell.

And the killer of Vikhor's wife.

And as a cherry-on-top of his grim horrendous situation, Adler never even knew that he was the one who killed (Y/N). In fact, he was never even aware of her existence. She was just another chess-pawn that he destroyed ruthlessly.

When Vikhor was taken in by the CIA for interrogation, he bit his tongue harshly. He resisted that strong urge to spit in Adler's face, telling him about the death of his wife, telling him that his hands were dripping with the blood of his lover. But Adler was a man devoid of emotions when it came to his enemies. Especially the Soviets. He didn't care for whoever he killed- be it man, woman or child. They were all the same to him: A threat to their way of life. A typical progeny of the McCarthy Era. Vikhor knew very well that the death of his woman would hardly shake a man like Adler. In fact, he would be satisfied, and that is something Vikhor vehemently refused to give him. And so, he swallowed it down.

As Adler kept throwing curses and harmless threats at Vikhor, he could hardly process whatever Adler was shooting at him. His mind was still stuck with the soft evening glow of the skies and his lover's giggles that sounded like the gentle chiming of the wind-bells during the first spring: Warm and cheery. It was a perfect day. It was one of the many memories that kept him alive during his vile and gruesome time in the Gulag. As he lay on the cold, wet, dirty floors infested with bugs and mice, he imagined (Y/N)'s loving hugs and kisses engulfing him as he buried his face deep in her soft breasts, his hair and face caressed by her dainty hands and her sweet voice telling him, "Shhh...I am here." On days he would be battered and beaten by the other inmates in the Gulag, he terribly missed her delicate hands tending to his wounds and his festering infectious injuries. But it was all a distant, broken memory. He had no one as he lay on the floor curled, vulnerable and cold. Betrayed and shattered. Humiliated. All day, he would pray to the heavens begging them to end his suffering. To let him see his girl again, somewhere in the afterlife. Sitting by a riverbank, her legs in the water, splashing it with her feet as she played with the little fishes. She would be in her little white dress, her hair let loose and the wisps of stray hair flying with the sudden gush of cold wind. But fate had abandoned him. Or perhaps, it had different plans.

After joining Perseus, Vikhor's first impulsive decision was to kill Adler, not show him the mercy he showed him. But then killing him would mean letting Adler have an easy way out. No. He had to suffer in agony, and he had to hate every moment of his life, and he had to regret every choice he ever made.

Adler was a man run by a deep passionate hatred towards one person- The leader of Perseus, who he believed was...Perseus. Typical American logic. After his leader's died in '83, Vikhor took the perfect opportunity to start his new game- one where he would run the show and leave Adler be the man who lost everything. It was like a game of dominos- one event to another, Adler lost everything one by one. First his sanity, next his honour and finally, his ultimate life goal: Perseus. It was a success.

Vikhor looked at Adler, and he was still barking like a dumb dog, not knowing what he had just lost.

"Where is Perseus?!"

They never learn.

"Here. Cancer took him in '83" Vikhor pointed to a tombstone. Adler's face darkened. A wave of shame and despair washed over him as he felt his throat tightening. Adler lost his mission. He lost the sails that helped him navigate through the uncharted, unforgiving waters of his Project Perseus. Vikhor smirked. Victory. His wish had been fulfilled. And now, there was just one last wish he wanted and one he knew he was close to getting: Death.

Death's sweet embrace. But for Vikhor, it was going to be (Y/N)'s sweet embrace.

Vikhor turned to the evening skies one more time. He wanted it to be ingrained deeply in his soul- the chill, the vanilla orange swirls of the sky, the trees and his vivid imagination of (Y/N) hopping somewhere amid the woods, smiling brightly at him. He shut his eyes gently, ready to be reunited with her.

The shots were fired.

His eyes never opened again. To others, it would have been a brutal murder, a war crime. But to Vikhor, it was a peaceful death. Peace. One thing he never had. Maybe the closest thing he achieved to being peaceful was with (Y/N). But it was short-lived. However, that day, he earned his eternal peace. A small pleasant smile curled on his lips as he gave his last breath, his body going numb and cold with the last brassy rays of the evening sunshine.

I am coming home, my love.

A/N: So this was a story written on a whim. In the Call of Duty wiki, it was mentioned that the King of Spades signified "a widower, a man in anger or difficulty, and one given to inebriety". And in one of the Cold War trailers, Vikhor's picture was next to the spades, hence where I got my title and my story plot.

#black ops cold war #call of duty #call of duty black ops #russell adler #vikhor stitch kuzmin #stitch x reader #vikhor kuzmin #russell adler x reader

[jesuiscalmedammit]

Surprise || [Russell Adler x fem!Bell]

"Oh, boo-hoo, 'I should kill you for what you did to me,' he says," you said in a mocking voice as you slowly walked over to Stitch.

Russell's heart rate jumped when his eyes landed on you. At first he didn't want to believe it. It had been so long since you ran away, and they didn't even know where you were and what you were doing. A part of him hoped you just wanted to be alone, to be away from him, but at the same time he knew witness protection would've given you the same benefits.

And now that you stood by Stitch's side, it became crystal clear whose side you were on. There was no doubt it was on him, after all he had been the one who brainwashed and manipulated you. He pushed you this far and now he had to deal with the consequences.

Lowering his gun a little, he gulped and tried to pull himself together. "Bell. What are you doing here?" he asked as calmly as he could.

"I'm only here out of morbid curiosity," you replied with a shrug. For a quick moment you glanced over at Stitch before turning your attention back to Russell. "I knew what he was planning to do and I wanted to see where this was going. And before you think about doing something stupid," you said, looking over at the trio of Mason, Woods and Hudson, "I have snipers around the place. They'll shoot you before you could pull the trigger."

"So your voice... I really heard it, didn't I?" Russell asked, referring to a faint memory from after his kidnapping. You nodded with a wide grin as you folded your hands behind your back. "Did you come here to kill me?"

Letting out an annoyed groan, you said, "Like I said, I'm only here to see where Stitch's plan is going. He didn't tell me much and I was curious."

-

(I might write a part 2 for this AU ending.)

#russell adler #russell adler x reader #russell adler x bell #vikhor stitch kuzmin #black ops cold war #call of duty #fic: mistakes were made