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niobe-loreley · 9 months

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Heaven Is In A Shortcake {xvii}

AND NOW~ IT WAS TIME~ FOR TUMBLR TO DROWN IN THE SWEET SORROW OF THIS FIC'S 17TH CHAPTER

disclaimer: The Gray Man and the characters are NOT mine, even the reader. I only own the plot and the reader's character lol. Pictures used in the fic are NOT MINE, but only the edited version (u can msg me if u ze owner); credits to the rightful owners and canva + weheartit. Additionally, I am not a Subic/Zambales native, so my apologies for any wrong locations, descriptions, or languages.

Six x F!Reader / Courtland Gentry x Female Reader

warnings: moderate amount of swear words. some filipino dialogues. slow burn. fluff. trust issues. dramaramramamama. comedy if you use a magnifying glass. culture shock. word count check. slightly proofread/revised.

CHAPTER SELECTION IS IN THE ✨Masterlist✨ Chapter 16 was the icon Chapter 17 is the legend

word count: 3.9k (N/N) = nickname *Kiara = Clare *Kurt = Court *cover names = reader doesn't know YET (except you do know #wreckthe4thwall)

This has got to be kidnapping.

Yet how can it be when you're not even verbally struggling to escape?

The only physical binding you have is your sprained ankle. If you didn't have that, you can easily jump out of the car.

But you dare not anger Court any further. He might not let you leave them until you ripen of old age.

Would that be so bad, though?

You blush, sharply averting your gaze out the window as if it would throw the thought away. Being with Court and Claire in less than three hours for thrice a week should be enough for friends hanging out.

Right?

So, why are you wishing for more time?

Why are you always at the edge of your seat waiting for them?

Why is it always hard to watch them walk out of the cafe without you?

The answers are obvious. You just don't want to indulge them again, especially after what happened tonight.

"Home runnnn!" Claire shouts happily as she races through the garage. She certainly looked like she batted a ball out of the field, arms raised overhead, open-mouthed grin, and keys dangling noisily.

You and Court stay silent as Claire unlocks the door. He has you in his arms again, but you don't breathe a complaint this time.

"Want to take a bath, (N/N)?" Claire asks when the three of you entered the guestroom.

You nod. "Sure, that'd be grand."

Court gently sets you down on the bed. "Do you, um, need help?" he questions with a red face, "Taking a bath?"

You laugh. "I'm not that incapacitated, dude. Just get me a chair, towel, and clothes."

"Here's a towel!" Claire gets one from the closet and deposits it on the bed in a flash, "I'll go get a plastic chair!"

She's out of the room before either of you can blink.

"What a proactive teen," you comment amusedly before the silence becomes awkward.

Court snorts in agreement, looks at you for a few seconds, and turns away. "Hey, listen, you can borrow my clothes for the time being."

"Do you have my kind of underwear this time?" you tease.

"About the underwear.. we can buy some tomorrow morning." Court awkwardly rubs his nape, "There's a— what do you call this.. a small market at the park tomorrow. It's always there every Saturday, from 6 AM to 10 AM."

"A tiangge?"

"Yeah, that!"

"Alright, it'd probably be good for me to walk around tomorrow."

"Who says you'll be walking around?"

"Uh, I did?"

"No, you're staying in the car."

"What?"

"My house, my car, my rules."

You chuckle. "Court, seriously.. what are you doing? This is rather sweet and all, but you're lowkey scaring me." you swiftly add to ease his growing anxiety, "It's scary in a funny way, actually. But I'm getting worried that you're over-worrying about me."

He glances down at the floor. "Isn't this what friends do?" and peers at you with eyes so dubious it's as though he doesn't know the meaning of friends.

"Yeah, it is.. and I would do the same for you, it's just that…" you look straight into his eyes, "This kind of overworrying feels different. I can't help but think it feels different. This, us, we.. feel different. But I don't want to think it does, I want to know."

You're quick to realize what you just said, their weight and meaning, so you let out a loud laugh. Hopefully it will dispel your statements.

"Or maybe it's just me!— Me being silly ol' me," you snicker.

Yet Court is looking at you as though he understands the facade you're wearing.

"What's so funny?" Claire drags a monoblock chair into the room.

You shake your head. "I was just mimicking Flint Lockwood."

"You know Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs?!"

"Know it? I've watched it a hundred times!"

"There! Good as new!" Claire declares, satisfied.

After taking a bath, the father-daughter duo helped you with your wounds again. Claire has just finished bandaging your elbow. While Court went to get another compression bandage after leaving an ice pack on your ankle.

"Kiara.. may I ask you something?"

She snorts. "Of course. And no need to be all formal."

"How did you and Kurt find me?"

Claire freezes, the look on her face somewhat resembles a search engine loading continuously due to a weak internet. "Um, well.. we were going to invite you to watch a movie with us," she smiles sheepishly, "It's Friday. And it's been a while.

"Anyway, we knew you were going to Lillia's, so we turned around and drove to the hotel. We got there just as you were being chased."

You resist a shudder when you hear derisive howling in your ears. You wonder how long those guys will be in your mind, their laughs and hoots bouncing back and forth, reverberating your skull.

"I'm glad you two turned around," you smile at Claire with glassy eyes. "Thank you, Kiara."

She's stunned until tears brim her eyes. But Claire doesn't let them fall. "Don't just thank me. It's Six who beat their asses," she snickers.

"Who?" you ask.

"What?" Claire replies and freezes in realization.

"(Y/N), are you hungry?" Court inquires, sidling in the room.

"No, thank you." you glance at him from head to toe, "How about you? Didn't all that ass kicking got you starving?"

"Not really." Court sits on a chair at the edge of the bed. He takes off the ice pack from your ankle, which he towel-dries before he mindfully wraps a compression bandage around it.

He's too focused on your sprain while you're so engrossed watching him that neither of you notice Claire sneaking out of the room.

"Hey, can you come over here and hand me the ice pack?"

Court just finishes bandaging your sprain. Yet he wastes no time obliging you. This, again, neither of you notices.

"You found another welt on you?" he asks, sounding like he's half-joking (but he's not).

You snatch the ice pack from him and press it up against his left jaw. Court is monumentally unprepared for the "assault" that he winces in pain.

"Nope! Found a bruise on you, though." you say, snickering.

Court lets the astonishment wash over him. "You notice that?" he asks, somewhat amazed.

"At first, I thought it was a tattoo."

"Really?"

"No, I'm joking."

"Oh.."

You snort. "Doofus."

"Twerp," he fires back, flaring.

You double over, laughing. But you still have the ice pack steady on his jaw. "Sometimes you're a sore loser," you examine his face for any more injuries, but it's hard when he's scrunching it up to a scowl. "No, scratch that, you are one."

"And you're just infuriating. All. The. Time." he remarks with hardening emphasis.

"But you love me," you intone jokingly.

Court stares at you, astounded. And as the blood creep up his face, your laugh dies down in shame.

He knows you're joking, right?

You know you were joking.. right?

Sure, you like-like him, but you wouldn't call it love. Infatuation is more like it. Or stirrings, as Captain Jack Sparrow termed it.

Your inner self gives you an unimpressed look.

'Ok, fine.. feelings.'

Court calls your name.

"Huh? What?" you snap out of your stupor.

Court grabs the ice pack from you and off his jaw. "I asked if you want to call somebody." he says with genuine concern.

"Oh… I don't think I can talk to anybody about what happened just yet."

"Okay," he pauses, "Sorry.. I thought you'd feel better if you talked to Mindy. Or maybe Erick."

You chuckle. "I would if we were still dating."

Court blinks at you.

You elaborate. "I mean, we were only dating. He's not really my boyfriend in the first place."

"So… You two aren't dating anymore?" Court asks.

"That's right." you nod and pretend like your heart is not leaping up your throat because of what you plan to say next. "I told Erick I can't date him anymore because I realized I already like someone else. Even before him."

"So," he hums inquisitively, "You're dating this someone now?"

You shake your head, smiling sadly. "No, I haven't told him I like him yet."

He gulps. "Why is that?"

"Because after what happened tonight, as much as I want him to know.. I don't want him to think it's because he saved me."

Court is looking at you like you're a thousand-piece puzzle.

You blush. "I know I've liked this guy for a long while now. And I know this isn't the right time, but.. I'm idiotically still trying to tell him. That I like him."

Silence spreads to every corner of the room. And if it weren't for the crickets serenading outside, the silence would be awkward the way it should be.

Court is still saying nothing. He has his eyes on the floor and you have no idea what's going on in his mind.

Typically, you're that friend who advises their other friends to just say it— do it!— Don't ride the merry-go-around.

Yet here you are, dangling on one of the carousel horses as it spins for all eternity.

"You should get some rest." Court says finally.

"Huh?"

"I said, you should get some rest."

"Oh… That's what I thought you said."

He hauls out something from his jacket pocket. "Here.. the channel is all set," he nods at the walkie-talkie, "Keep it open and call me as soon as you need me— or anything."

"Sure," you grab the device absentmindedly. "Good night."

"Good night."

And then he leaves, shutting the door behind him.

You look at the transceiver, place it on the bedside drawer, and expel a hefty sigh. "Ang tanga mo talaga," you tell yourself, forcibly lying down. "Stupid, stupid, stupid! You should've just told him!— Why didn't you tell him? Oh right, because I'm an idiotic, no good, shit for brains, twat!"

A sharp twinge rises up your leg as a scratching pain erupts from the rest of your body. "Ow, ow, ow," you stop thrashing, slowly placing your sprained ankle atop the pillow it was on. You sigh exasperatedly, "I'm such a dumbass."

"You're such a dumbass!"

"Excuse me?" Court glares at Claire over his shoulder as they climb up the stairs.

She rolls her eyes. "Her message was as clear as the archipelago sun!"

"Whose?"

"(N/N), duh!"

He furrows his brows. "What message?"

She snaps her fingers. "And that's why you're such a dumbass."

"Fine. Whatever. Just get to bed."

"Fine! Let's all see how this stupidity between you and (N/N) plays out!"

Claire storms in her room and noisily shuts the door before Court can retort. He ponders what she's got to be mad about.

He takes a short bath, sets another set of clothes aside for you, and checks the house's security.

No one's after you three.

That's not just why Court suggested you stay with them for a few days. This is better than you staying all night at the cafe alone. And like hell he'll ever leave you alone after what happened tonight.

Court checks the handgun under his pillow as he looks at the guestroom's feed.

If someone did come after them, he'll have no choice but to take you with him and Claire.

Suddenly, he recalls what you said earlier as he lays on the bed.

"...as much as I want him to know.. I don't want him to think it's because he saved me."

You're not talking about him, right?

"I know I've liked this guy for a long while now—"

There's just no way, right?

"—And I know this isn't the right time, but.. I'm idiotically still trying to tell him. That I like him."

Court abruptly sits upright. "Fuck!" he breathes out, wishing he can do the same to the heat in his cheeks. "Don't do this to yourself, man. You're 100% uncertain."

Maybe you were just delirious from the trauma.

Yeah, that's plausible.

But also worrisome.

Court glances over to his desk, where the security feed is showing any events live inside, outside, and ten meters around the house. But he's focused on one feed: the guestroom.

You're fast asleep already. And how you're so unmoving sets paranoia ablaze in his veins.

He has the right to worry, right?

So, it's okay for him to switch on the guestroom's camera audio and cranks it up until he hears your breathing, right?

He puts on one earbud and doesn't dwell on the fact that what he's doing is downright creepy.

Setting up a tablet beside him on the bed, Court finds the security feed on the device. He then lies back down and tries closing his ends. Not after a minute, he ends up watching you on the screen.

'Hopeless..'

He ignores his demons snickering at him.

As he continues eyeing the security feed of the premises, particularly you, Court doesn't realize he fell asleep.

Until he hears you scream.

"NO! NO! STOP— PLEASE!"

Court practically becomes The Flash. He bolts down to the guestroom before his eyes can fully open.

He shouts your name as he bursts in the room. Opening the lights, he finds that you have no (external) attacker.

You're sitting down, yet you looked like you ran a marathon. "Hey, Kurt," you wipe the cold sweat off your brow. "I'm so sorry for waking you."

He stammers. "No. Not really, I.. I just got up to get some water."

You glance at the time, 1:35 AM. "Still, sorry for disturbing you and shit."

Court sighs. "Stop apologizing. How many times do I have to tell you?"

"Maybe 99 more to get it through my thick skull?"

"That's probably not enough."

You laugh, shaking your head, and you scratch behind your ear. "Did I wake Claire up, too?"

Court glances out the door when he hears footsteps. Claire carefully rounds the corner, armed with a handgun dipped towards the floor.

"No, she's still asleep." he blankly says as he turns back to you.

You heave a brow. "Why are you lying?"

Court is taken aback. Was he that obvious? No one can usually read him, not even Claire; although, Donald and Margaret used to.

"Oh, Claire!" you holler in a singsong voice.

The teen reluctantly peers in the room, hiding her weapon behind her. "H-Hiya," she smiles nervously.

You chuckle. "The two of you should get back to bed. I'm sorry for getting you out of there in the first place."

"It wasn't your fault you had a nightmare, (N/N)." says Claire. "Would—"

"Would you like some company?" Court asks just before the teen could. He looks at her in befuddlement, while she sneers maniacally at him.

"No, you two should rest." you give a small smile, "I'll be fine."

Except you didn't get to be.

For the past three hours, you've woken up from several nightmares. Only a few of them did you wake up screaming. Sometimes you can't even sleep immediately because it takes you back to the same bad dream.

It takes all of Court's might not to barge back in the guestroom, lay down next to you, and kick all those nightmares in the ass.

After your first nightmare, Court hasn't slept a wink. He returned to his room and watched you through the security feed. When you've had your second nightmare, he quickly sets up the sandbag in his room and starts whaling on it.

But there's only so much that he can take from hearing your cries. He tried muting your security feed, yet for some reason, it's worse than before.

So, Court has selfishly decided that you need someone with you tonight. Whether you like it or not.

He waited until you're back in deep sleep after a nightmare.

Without little to no sound, Court sneaks into the guestroom and places a chair beside the bed. And as he sits there, it just hits him that he doesn't know what the fuck to do. You'll probably have a heart attack when you wake up and find him staring at you.

How should he comfort you?

He pinches himself when the first thought he has is to get in bed with you. There's got to be another way other than that— it'll be the last resort.

You suddenly let out a grunt, stirring, and Court flinches, readying to flee. But you're still asleep. It's another nightmare.

Court spots your clenched fist and tightens his jaw. He looks at your grimacing face, and for some reason, it's similar to your concentrating face. Now, here's a thought: what if you're suppressing yourself for him and Claire? So that you won't wake them up because of your nightmares.

He chuckles in both disbelief and admiration. That'd truly be you. Even when you're having trouble, you're still looking after them.

Breathing in and out, Court takes your balled hand in both of his. He strokes your fist, tracing patterns on your skin until he feels your muscles release their contraction. Gently, he unfurls your tightened fingers and soothes them one by one.

Compared to his, your appendages are small and smooth. It astonishes him how a hard worker such as yourself has dainty hands. But he stands corrected when he feels a few callouses. Nevertheless, your hand fascinates him.

What would it feel like to hold both of your hands in his own?

The thought is cut short when he feels crescent marks on your palm. Court frowns at that and then at you. "Idiot.. stop taking on everything by yourself," he whispers and carefully holds your hand in both of his. "I'll be here for you, (Y/N). I am here. You just.. gotta see me."

For the second time tonight, Court has fallen asleep watching you.

And once again, you're the one to wake him. But not with a scream this time.

"Court," you softly call, tugging on his hands.

With his name like a feather on your lips, everything within him stirs wildly into life. But he doesn't show that effect you have on him.

He slowly rises from slumping on the bed. "Hey, sorry, did I scare you?" he blurts out with one eye still closed.

You chuckle. "No, you didn't."

"Get back to sleep. I'll just be here."

"Why don't you..?"

"Hm?" Court blinks at you curiously.

You fight back the blush, scoot further in the bed, and pat the space beside you. "I don't think you're comfortable there. Why don't you sleep here instead?"

He gulps. "Aren't you gonna ask me what I'm doing here first?"

"Will you answer me honestly? Or tell me to shut up and rest?" you question amusedly.

"Both?" he stifles a grin.

You shortly laugh before you tug him towards you. It doesn't take long for him to fold. Just you holding his hand is enough to make Court roll over for you.

He worriedly climbs in the bed—

"Oh, wait!"

"What?!"

"Let's switch."

".. Why?"

You redden. "I don't want you sleeping on my sweat, man! Understand?!"

He looks at you for a few seconds and sputters out a laugh. "Alright, fine," he says before you can chastise him for laughing. You scoot over as he rounds the bed, "There. Happy?"

"Very," you nod and settle down.

"Oh, wait!" he exclaims this time.

"What?!"

Court returns to his room to retrieve his clothes that you were going to wear later in the morning. "Change. You stink." he chucks them to you, sneering.

"Go away, then." you snarl.

"Like hell I would."

"Just turn around, moron!"

He obliges, snickering, and when he faces away from you, horrific realization strikes like vicious lightning across his chest.

You're undressing. With him still in the room. And it's just the two of you. Has he mentioned that you're currently undressing?

His demons are biting into the side of his neck, yanking at him to look over at you. This is bad. His self-control is losing a lot of blood.

"Need any help?"

Yup, that's significant blood loss right there.

"No, I got this. Thanks, Kurt."

After an eternity (minute) of suffering..

"Done!" you exhale, relieved.

And so did Court.

He rigidly gets in the bed without glancing at you. His self-control needs recharging, it doesn't help that you're half-an-arms length away. But even just a visual on you is lethal.

The two of you are staring at the ceiling. Until you turn your head to Court, just as he risks a glance at you. His self-control can't charge anymore.

You grin apologetically. "Sorry for keeping you up. Let's get some rest," and roll on your side, facing away from him. "Good night."

"Yeah, night." he replies, staring at your back.

Before horrendous thoughts can start invading his mind, Court notices something amusing.

He stifles a grin, his shirt is like a blanket on you. The way it hangs on you with too many folds screams that you're wearing an extremely baggy top. It'll never not be entertaining to have you in his clothes. What's more, only ⅓ of your feet are sticking out the hem of his joggers.

This time, Court doesn't fall asleep watching you. Because with you up close, he's granted visual acuity to scrutinize you evenly.

Your hair doesn't appear damp despite the cold sweat you're experiencing from the nightmares.

The curve of your shoulder somewhat displays tenacity and elegance simultaneously.

How can such a tiny body hold so much strength and carry such burdens?

Eventually, the nightmares are back. And Court is ready for them.

As soon as you're stirring abnormally and moaning in fear, Court props onto his elbow and carefully grabs your shoulder. He calls your name, shaking you gently.

You jolt awake, breathing heavily. "Court," you look at him, the fear in your wide eyes diminishing gradually. "Did I wake you?"

"No," says Court, steeling his resolve. "Come here."

You almost didn't understand what he said. Until he pulls you to him. And you move compliantly.

Court shimmies his arm under your head, while the other clutches your waist, pulling you closer until there's no space between your back and his chest.

You stifle a squeak when he slips a leg between yours. "Sorry," he says in your hair, "Just gotta get this.."

He clasps the edge of the pillow with his toes and carefully reels it. "Lift your left leg up," he tells you, and you oblige. He leaves the pillow between your legs and grabs the one you lifted. "You can put this down now."

He helps you in setting your sprained ankle down on the pillow.

"Good girl."

Oh, damn..

Thank the heavens you're not facing him right now. He'd probably mistake your face for a stove.

"No nightmare is getting to you now."

"Huh?"

You feel him moving his face against the back of your head.

"I said," he pauses, voice low, breaths fanning on your ear. "No nightmare is getting to you now. Because I'm protecting you."

Your heart finds it hard to go back to its place after cartwheeling up your throat. And when it's reminded of the position you and Court are presently in, your heart threatens to roll out your mouth.

"The nightmares are in my head, though." you chuckle, placing a hand on the arm you're resting your head on, you reach for his hand. "Thank you."

Court watches, with fireworks gleefully exploding in his chest, as you intertwine your hand with his. When the festivities calm down, he gives your hand a squeeze.

"You're always welcome, (Y/N)."

A/N: these chapters will be all FOR NOW~ I am continuing this fic y'all, albeit it'll be from time to time (ehem month to month huhuhuhu)

The door to Chapter 18 is blocked

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