#courtland gentry fic

[classickook]

just another thursday | sierra six

pairing: courtland gentry (sierra six) x fem!reader

summary: in which lloyd hansen has taken you, six’s girlfriend, instead of claire and you get injured in the process.

warnings: swearing, mentions of a gunshot wound and blood, hurt/comfort

word count: 1.3k

a/n: i wrote this instead of working on my 20 other wips but what’s new?

you didn’t think your day would lead to you bleeding out in a random maze slash courtyard of a foreign country, yet here you are with your special cia-assassin-or-whatever-the-hell-he-is boyfriend kneeling in front of you.

“look at me, baby. keep your eyes on me, all right?”

you nod weakly, putting far too much effort into the simple action in addition to keeping your eyes open long enough to focus on the face in front of you, feeling deflated and dizzy as if your mind had been separated from your body.

“bad news is there’s no exit wound so the bullet is still lodged in your arm.”

you swallow sharply, finding it difficult to breathe past the pain and the horrible news that six just dropped on you. it feels like sandpaper coats your tongue and the roof of your mouth. god, wasn’t there any water around here? you try swallowing again and just barely make a successful attempt without choking.

“didn’t hit the brachial artery,” six mutters quietly. “that’s good, at least.”

“you a doctor now?” you wheeze.

“i’ve been at this a bit longer than you have, sweetheart,” he chuckles, glad to see that your humor is still intact despite the oozing gunshot wound in your upper arm. “comes with the territory.”

“yeah, well, your territory sucks.” you let out a sharp hiss and squeeze your eyes shut as his fingers apply more pressure to your wound. “fuck.”

his steely blue eyes flicker up to yours in a look that can only be described as pure agony at the expense of your pain. “i’m sorry. just a bit longer, okay?”

“sure,” you rasp.

his gaze lingers on you for another fleeting moment as if gauging your reaction for any change before continuing. six silently tears a strip of fabric from the bottom of his black fitted t-shirt, biceps flexing with the movement and you use that as a distraction from the pain.

“this is going to hurt the worst,” he warns, but then quickly slips his hand into the pocket of his jeans before handing something small to you that flashes silver in the low light. “take this.”

the fingers of your good arm pluck the tinfoil-wrapped rectangle and flick it open. “gum?” you ask, arching a brow in disbelief, “really?”

his lips twitch a bit. “you’re better off chewing on that than grinding your teeth down.”

“jeez, it’s gonna be that bad, huh?”

he shrugs his broad shoulders and says, “better safe than sorry.”

“great.” you pop the gum into your mouth and urge your jaw into motion as artificial watermelon coats your tongue. typical. “should’ve known it would be watermelon.”

“it’s the best,” he replies easily as if there truly is no other flavor of gum to compare it to. what a dork, you think affectionately.

you inhale sharply, blood and musk and petrichor overwhelming your senses as you prepare yourself for what would no doubt be the most excruciating pain you have ever experienced. “i guess i’m ready.”

he nods once, still surveying your features for any signs of panic, but you try to keep yourself calm, neutral, as if tricking your mind into believing this is no big deal; just another thursday, as six always says.

“i have to get the bullet out, okay?” the tilt of your chin is the only response he gets. “then i’ll put more pressure on it and wrap it until we can get you to a hospital.”

a faint whimper crawls up your throat at the thought of it all and six attempts to school his features at the sound of your distress, but you still notice the slight tick in his jaw beneath the scruff of his goatee. “okay,” you say quietly, trying to put on your brave face for him. he’s been through far worse than this, you scold yourself. don’t be such a baby.

“you’re not being a baby.”

shit. you didn’t realize your last thought had been voiced aloud. maybe the pain and shock are really getting to you now; you can’t even control your thoughts or tongue anymore.

“it’s okay to be scared,” he continues. “in fact, you should be scared. no part of this is normal—not for you. i was supposed to protect you from him, from all of this. i failed you.”

you shake your head slowly, feeling woozy and weak as the adrenaline bleeds from your body. “it’s not your fault. you saved me in the end… just in time.” you offer him a weak smile but you know he doesn’t believe it, that he’s choking on his guilt and letting it soak into his every pore as you sit wounded in front of him. “just get this awful thing out of me so we can go home, yeah?”

without another word, you feel prodding fingers burrowing into your flesh and you clamp down hard on your teeth, stupid watermelon gum be damned. “fuck,” you groan as tears prick your vision until six’s face is nothing but an unrecognizable blur.

you bite your lip, your tongue, your cheek—anything to reorient the pain onto something else, and the taste of copper floods your mouth.

another whimper bubbles past your lips and you squeeze the fingers of your good arm onto six’s thigh, nails pinching into the fabric of his jeans until you can almost feel the warm skin beneath.

“that’s it, you’re okay. almost done,” six coaxes gently as his fingers pull back, now coated in blood and encasing around the golden bullet that burrowed its way past flesh, blood, and muscle. “keep your eyes on me, baby. i just have to wrap it, okay? you’re doing so good, i’m so fucking proud of you.”

your eyes blink open and focus on his shoulder as pressure builds in your arm. six continues to talk you through it as he wraps the strip of fabric around your wound and tightens it snuggly until you can’t really feel anything but a constant pulsing sensation.

you blink blearily at him until his features sharpen into view, noticing the familiar steely blue eyes looking up at you that appear more electric than usual due to the smudges of dirt and blood on his face. even still, he looks beautiful.

he bows his head and chuckles lightly. “you’re delirious, sweetheart.”

damn. did you say that out loud too?

six rises from his crouched position in front of you and gently urges you into a stand, large hands holding you steady along your waist and lower back. “are you feeling okay…? dizzy, nauseous, is the pain worse—”

“six,” you croak. “i’ll be okay. just take me home, please?”

he releases a sigh of relief to see you speaking and standing well enough on your own given the blood loss. “yeah, baby. let’s get you out of here.” one arm stays firmly placed around your waist, however, as he leads you out of the maze and back out front to the car that’s waiting for the two of you.

six is so gentle with you, taking his steps slow and steady as he maneuvers you into the passenger seat, buckling you in carefully and shutting the door before rounding the vehicle until he’s behind the wheel. your forehead is pressed up against the cool glass of the window, allowing it to soothe your impending headache along with the sweat peppering your brow.

“six?”

his hands freeze on the steering wheel, quickly directing his attention to you, afraid that you’re in too much pain or that you might faint or—

“can we stop by mcdonald’s on the way back?”

he coughs. “mcdonald’s?”

you nod against the window and hum your assent. “i really want french fries.”

six stifles the laugh building in his chest before pulling out of the courtyard. “sure, sweetheart. i’ll get you some french fries.”

“with extra ketchup?”

“of course.”

[anitalenia]

━━━ sierra six drabble ₓ˚. ୭

𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐌𝐏 ──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ 𝟾 : 𝟸 𝟾 pm ୨୧

𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒. ̨ ✩°̥࿐ just thinking about the obvious crush you have on Six, but he’s too stubborn to give into it.

pairing: Sierra Six x fem!Reader

authors note: tbh, I liked this too much to just leave it as a drabble. I’ll probably make this into a full fic eventually, so I guess you can consider this a teaser 😭 I thought I’d at least post it and see how it goes. it’s probably not that eventful but whateva.

LINKS ੈ♡˳·˖✶ masterlist | time stamps | taglist

YOU COULDN’T HELP BUT STARE at the way his muscles flexed under his suit jacket; a steely gray that complimented the olive undertones of his skin.

Six barley turned his head, managing to look at you from the corner of his eye. Subtle enough to see the way you looked at him as more than a… whatever he was. Bodyguard. It brought a small smirk to his face as he opened up his jacket and pulled out a piece of gum from his inner coat pocket.

He’d offer you one, but he liked it better when you thought he was oblivious.

You watched as he threw the stick of pink gum into his mouth, bubblicious no doubt. Or watermelon, another one of his favorites. You stared at the way his jaw clenched as he chewed on it, shoving the tiny wrapper into his pocket. You watched as he slowly stalked around the wall length windows, resuming his casual pace, examining the yard like something was going to pop out at any second.

All you could do was watch. Watch him, watch him walk, watch him stare out at nothing. It must’ve been a boring job; just staring, walking, waiting. Waiting for something to happen, daring someone to come.

You cocked your head at him, your eyes running down from the tip of his neat blonde hair, to the strong side profile of his muscular body and jaw, to the big thighs stuck in those gray slacks, to the glossy sheen of his black shoes.

He was so fine and he knew it. He had to of, otherwise why would he tramp around in those suits of his, with his stupid hair gelled back, with his stupid blue eyes, and his stupid big hands, and his stupid broad chest, and his stupid pink gum. You narrowed your eyes at him, frustrated with the longing you had for him like it was his fault. Well it really was honesty, he was the one that looked like that.

Six could feel your stare burning into him, the buzzing silence between you two thick with… something. He could feel it thrumming under his skin, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He looked out at the trees, then glanced at you, then back to the trees with an amused barely-there smile. He wondered what you were thinking about, if you were thinking about him, if you were thinking about him like he was thinking about you.

He put his hands in his pant pockets, wondering how long you were gonna keep up your little staring contest. He didn’t mind it; he enjoyed being gawked at by you actually. Made him feel like less of an asset and more of a person. Even then, you were a pretty girl. Who didn’t like being looked at by pretty girls?

You yourself wondered why Six hadn’t said anything to you yet. He must’ve caught your staring by now, you weren’t exactly subtle. Maybe he was purposefully ignoring you, making it a point to look at anything but you. Whatever the reason, you decided you wanted to hear him, hear his voice one last time before you had to go take a shower.

Honestly, you just needed to get out of the living room before you jumped him like a cat in heat.

“So, anything interesting outside?” You asked stupidly, just wanting to hear that deep voice of his instead of an actual answer; hear that sarcastic clip you knew he’d have with you. Something about the undertones of condescension in his words really made your skin tingle, especially when he looked directly at you when he said them. You tightened your thighs together as he turned his head towards you, the sun shining down on him from the window like he was an Angel descending down the clouds, being hand delivered to only you.

Six felt a chuckle tickle his throat as he turned his head at you, his eyes catching the way your legs closed up when he caught your eye. He licked his lips, quickly, sucking in a calming breath of air as he felt the tantalizing urge to just walk over to you and take you on that couch come over him like a dark cloud of sin.

“Uh, no. No there isn’t, actually. Just those little flowers over there… Tulips, huh? I didn’t take you for a tulip kinda girl.” Six pointed out to the flower patch over to the side of the yard, then put his hand back in his pocket and sauntered over to you with a divert little smile. You noticed it, and it made your skin purr.

You gazed up at him almost lustfully as he looked at you with those steely blue eyes, swirling with amusement and beguiled charm. You let out a soft chuckle at that, blatantly staring at his lips.

“Oh yeah? What kind of girl do you take me for then?” You teased almost too carelessly, cocking your head at him as your thighs pulsed with want straight to your throbbing pussy, thinking more with your salacious desires than your brain. You couldn’t help it. He was so pretty, so strong, so big. Your mind conjured up all the positions he could take you in, bent over this couch, over the coffee table, on the floor, on the window overlooking those damned tulips.

Six could see that you were out of it, your eyes dark with want and your thighs squeezed together so tight. You were just staring at him, entranced, stuck in your own little head. He was able to pick up on those things, you know. Especially after being with you for these past few months he’s come to learn how you operate, what your mannerisms were, what your expressions meant. He knew you inside and out, knew you better than you knew yourself. He knows when your sad, when your happy, when your angry… even when your horny.

He could feel that tantalizing pull within himself as he looked down at you, thinking how to answer your question without saying too much about what he really thought. What kind of girl do you take me for then? Oh he knew what kind of girl you were. What kind of girl he could make you be for him.

He just smiled, shaking his head to try and lighten the tension between you. I mean, god, he could practically feel the pheromones emanating from you.

“I’m gonna go check the perimeter. Don’t go anywhere until I’m back, alright? I shouldn’t be too long.” Six mumbled, taking his hands out of his pocket as he went to check the watch on his wrist. He had to get out of there, and he knew he shouldn’t leave you alone like this but it was an, thankfully, uneventful afternoon, and he figured he could spare a few minutes. He just had to leave, let you sort yourself out. No matter what he may feel, or what he might tell himself, at the end of the day he had a job to do, and no matter what he wanted he couldn’t cross that boundary. He knew that the moment he had a taste of you, the moment he felt your soft skin under his calloused hands, that the moment he gave in to his primal desires… god, just the thought… he’s really just digging up his own grave at this point.

You couldn’t help but feel dejected, slumping down in your seat and letting out a tense breath.

“Oh, okay. That’s fine. I’ll just… watch tv or something.” You rubbed your thighs nervously, suddenly embarrassed, feeling like you ruined the moment with something you did. Did you? Oh well, even if you didn’t, you still felt responsible for the sudden drop in intimacy as Six resumed his blank expression and walked out of the room, the imprint of two guns around his waist as he went.

You stared as he left, your skin hot and your stomach churning. That’s all you could do was watch. Watch him walk away, watch him bid you goodbye. It was a boring job you had. Staring, waiting. Waiting for him to do something. Waiting for yourself to gain the courage you needed.

You grabbed the remote next to you with a frown, staring at the tv with a pit of shame sitting heavy in your stomach, wishing you were watching something else instead.

Six walked out of the room with his cock semi-hard in his pants, his fists clenched in his pockets. It felt like he was trudging through mud the farther he walked away, but he knew it was for the best. It was just…

It was just getting harder and harder to deny you…

[elusivewildflower]

I just read all the romantic confession prompts and DAMN, I’m so soft rn — literally a fic/blurb/HC with any of these would make my knees buckle

But anyways how about 14 w/ our beloved Court 🥺🫶

I love your writing and I love youuuu 🤎 so glad I found you 🫂

Omg bestie this was literally one of my favorites when I was reading that list!! I love you so much, I’m so glad we found each other too!! 💕 There’s so many ways I could’ve gone with this one, I hope you enjoy what I chose! (also I'm sorry this took so long, it's been sitting in my drafts for forever.)

Romantic confessions, prompt 14: “i dream of you. all i do, is dream of you."

The familiar sound of your ringtone jolted you awake. As you rolled over in bed, blinking the sleep away from your eyes, you reached for your phone. Bringing it close enough that you could read who was calling at 3 o’clock in the morning, you were greeted by the caller ID of ‘private number’.

Now, most people would ignore such a call, but you weren’t most people. The man you loved almost never called from the same number twice, and even if it was the middle of the night, you’d always answer. Your heart raced in your chest as you swiped your thumb across the screen to answer.

“Hello?” Your voice was thick with sleep when you spoke.

“I’m sorry for waking you up,” came the reply before a brief pause, “I just needed to hear your voice.”

There was no verbal confirmation of who it was, but you didn’t need one. You knew exactly who it was just by the sound of his voice. Six. He sounded a little worse for wear, and that had worry lines etching across your forehead.

“It’s okay,” you assured him. You never cared what time he called, only that you were able to speak with him. “Are you alright? You sound…tired.” You weren’t sure that tired really covered it, but he’d know what you meant.

“I’ve been better, but I’ll survive.” He brushed off whatever injuries you assumed he had nonchalantly, just like always. A slight hiss escaped his lips as you heard shuffling on the other line. “How are you?”

You moved into a sitting position on your bed, just as you assumed he had a few seconds ago. You glanced longingly at the empty spot next to you. “I’m good, but I miss you.”

Six let out a low hum in response. “I miss you too, baby.”

Your heart clenched in your chest at his words. It was almost as if hearing him admit he missed you too made you miss him even more. You’d give anything to have him laying beside you every night.

“I sleep better when you’re here.” You admitted softly, your fingers curling around the edge of the soft blanket that laid over your lap.

Six’s response was spoken just as softly, “I know, I do too.”

There was a brief moment of silence where only the sound of each of you breathing could be heard. You were the first to break it. “Did you have another nightmare, or just that bad of a day?” You asked curiously, desiring to know which had him calling you so late at night with a need to hear your voice. You knew nightmares plagued him often, but so did bad days. You blamed his line of work for that.

“Mm, both.” Six hummed out lowly in response, as if it was the norm for him. Unfortunately, it probably was.

You frowned, shifting on the bed as you moved to lay back down and get comfortable. You’d love to have Six’s arms wrapped around you and your head laid on his chest, but your pillow would have to do for now. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Not right now,” Six began, “and it’s not safe for you to know yet.”

“I understand.” You pause, searching for a way to keep him on the line, to keep him talking. Even if you should be asleep, you can’t bring yourself to end the phone call yet. “Do you ever have good dreams?”

Six repeated your question back to you, as if it took him by surprise. He then let out a breath of air, almost in a soft laugh. “Sometimes.”

You were happy to hear that he wasn’t always plagued with nightmares. However, now you were curious to know what his good dreams consisted of. “What are they about?”

There was a brief pause on the other line. “I dream of you,” Six began, “all I do, is dream of you.”

Warmth spread through your chest and you smiled. “I love you, Six.”

“I love you too,” he immediately replied. “Now go back to sleep, baby. I’ll be home in a few days.”

As soon as your phone was back on the nightstand and your eyes fluttered shut you were out like a light, dreaming happily about the man you loved.

[heresthestorymorningglory]

Unfinished Business

Summary: Our boy has some unfinished business

A/N: Listen y'all this NSFW 18+ should be par for the course at this point. So like….just don’t okay?

As always, the inspo is thanks to the Goosecord and my beautiful partner in crime @ken-dom who constantly receives messages from me in the dead of night needing reassurance or "Hey what about if THIS happened?!"

Bless you my new found chosen sister for putting up with my antics!

This is a continuation of the first part Hello Nurse which you guys absolutely raved over and I am SO flattered (no really some of your messages really had me tearing up)

Like I said last time, this won't be the last you see of SIx

Enjoy my loves! <3

You let out a heavy sigh massaging your temples as you sat at the nurse’s station; the fluorescents were giving you a migraine and the phone had been ringing off the hook all night long. It rang again for the four hundredth time and you picked up the receiver 

“Fifth floor nurse’s station” 

“Hey, you” 

Your face broke out into a grin and you sat back in your chair twirling the phone cord around your finger recognizing his voice immediately. “Hi” 

“You on a secure line?” 

You scoffed with a small laugh “You know I’m not” you went through this every time he happened to call, and yet, he always asked. “Where are you?” 

“Somewhere cold” he always kept his answers vague. 

“Being safe?” you asked, reaching over the desk to take a clipboard from a coworker 

“Course” 

“Are you lying to me?” You asked, with a smirk cradling the receiver on your shoulder as you typed the information on the clipboard into the system. 

“Never” 

You stopped typing paying more attention to your call “You better come back to me” you said with an air of seriousness to your tone. “In one piece” 

He laughed softly on the other end 

“I’m not kidding, all your fingers, toes and…appendages” 

This caught the attention of your coworker who tilted her head curiously with a raised eyebrow; you just shook your head, hoping she’d get pulled away before you’d have to answer questions. 

“Hmm, well I’ve got some bad news sweetheart…” 

“You better be joking” you dropped your voice to a whisper 

“Would you love me any less if I weren’t?” 

You huffed with annoyance rolling your eyes “No, you idiot; now come home…I miss you” 

A page overhead for you caught your attention and you sighed “I gotta go, be careful, please” You knew better than to hope for that, he was never careful, everyone else came first. “I love you” 

“Me too, sweetheart” 

You hesitated holding up a finger to a coworker motioning overhead “Court”

He sighed and you could practically see the look on his face

“I’ve got all day” 

“No you don’t” 

“Then I guess you’d better hurry up” 

“I love you too” 

“I’ll see you soon?” you asked, knowing he wouldn’t give you a concrete answer 

“Soon” he confirmed before the line disconnected. 

You swallowed hard, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding as you pushed up from your chair. You had signed up for this, you knew that, but the knot in your stomach never untwisted itself completely until he was standing in front of you; admittedly usually covered in blood and bruises, but here and alive. 

***

It had been six months since that fateful night on the staircase; and Six had been gone for three of them. Thankfully you had managed to keep yourself busy with work, keeping your mind off of it, most of the time. 

Then you crawled into bed, alone, or he called to check in and that knot in your stomach just tightened. 

You did have to admit that when he was just a fleeting stranger who had saved your life once, and occasionally darkened your doorstep it had been a lot easier and you worried significantly less, but you wouldn’t trade that man for anything. 

You had to keep it relatively secret; it was safer that way Six had said, you were in less danger. You disagreed but he would rarely listen to reason on the topic; or he had fallen asleep before you had gotten the chance to broach it again. 

You laid in bed that night after work, wondering for the first time in a long time about Six’s past. Even though you had convinced him you didn’t need a 24/7 bodyguard and could in fact take care of yourself on occasion, and you had been….”together” for the last six months; the personal details you knew about the man were very few. 

You knew that was by design, but the thought of your parents immediate disapproval made you giggle to yourself; would be just like you ending up with the ex-convict who would end up on the wrong end of a gun one day because he showed up on your doorstep one night looking like wounded puppy.

Not that Six would even entertain the notion of ever meeting your parents so it didn’t really matter. 

***

He unlocked the door before putting the key back and quietly slipping inside before locking it behind him. 

He stumbled up the front steps, weak with exhaustion; the house was dark, but your car was in the driveway. Checking his watch, it was creeping into the one o’clock hour.

He shook the spare key out of the bottom of the ceramic goose you kept on the front porch; he had told you at least a hundred times that was an awful idea and you had reasoned if someone was going to break into the house, they weren’t going to use a key to do it. 

He slid his boots off, shedding his t-shirt as he climbed the stairs. You were curled up in bed sleeping peacefully, on his side. 

He smiled to himself, stripping off the rest of his clothes before gently shifting you to your side, you hadn’t even stirred until he climbed in behind you; arms wrapping tightly around you as he kissed your shoulder. 

“Hey,” you turned over, voice thick with sleep as you wrapped your arms around his neck “You’re home” 

He kissed you properly before you nestled against his chest “I missed you” 

He kissed the top of your head, pulling you against him as you drifted back off almost immediately and he followed suit. 

The next morning he stirred awake, the sensation of your lips across his bare chest  and up the side of his neck to his face and finally landing on his lips; your weight heavy on his midsection. 

"Good Morning," you smiled kissing him again 

He smiled, reaching to tuck a chunk of loose hair behind your ear, his large hand cupping your cheek. 

"All in one piece" you smiled, your cheeks had started to hurt from doing it for so long. 

"Satisfied?" 

"Not for months" your lips moved against his as you deepened your kiss. 

With minimal effort he flipped you on your back, pinning you to the mattress underneath; wrists on either side of your head. 

“Let's fix that then” 

Before you had a chance to respond, his lips were pressed firmly against yours, strong hands gripping your wrists as his hips made languid movements, his hard cock pressing against the inside of your thigh, your legs dropping open with ease. 

You hummed into your kiss as his tongue tangled with yours before kissing down your neck and chest. 

A small gasp escaped as his warm wet mouth enveloped your nipple. Your back arching off the bed, needing more, wanting more. 

He sucked gently, tongue grazing over the hard bud, making you shiver before trading sides and administering the same treatment to the other side. 

His hands slid from your wrists, over your sides and came to rest on your hips momentarily as he dipped lower, settling between your thighs. Your fingers pushed through his thick blond hair as he kissed the inside of your thighs. His breath hot against your core made you moan, leaning back into the pillow. 

“Court…please “ you breathed. 

Like an answered prayer, he licked a hot stripe up your centre, making you cry out, pulling hard on the hair trapped between your fingers, making him grunt against your clit before sucking you into his mouth.  

You writhed in the sheets, heels digging into the mattress. 

His hand sliding from your hip, two thick fingers pushing inside you with ease, pumping slowly as his tongue teased your clit. 

Your sighs and moans were like music to his ears. A glance up from between your thighs, your eyes were closed, face contorted in sheer pleasure, mouth open as you whined to the ceiling. 

Your entire form shuddered under the hand holding your hips steady. 

Your breathing came more laboured and shallow as he watched the flush creep over your naked body, his tongue flicking a little harder, fingers pumping a little faster, hand pressing firmer on your hip, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he kept you from twisting out of his grip. 

Your muscles clenching around his calloused fingers coated in your arousal as your orgasm tore through your body; pulling his fingers from inside you, tongue lapping up everything you had to give. Shudders wracking your entire form, your clit sensitive and overstimulated. 

You collapsed, completely spent as Six crawled back over top of you, kissing you deeply as you panted against his mouth. 

“My turn” you smiled breathlessly as you shifted, Six propping himself against the headboard as you put yourself between his knees. 

Without hesitation, you swallowed down his length, slick with precum. A loud groan of approval over your head as you bobbed slowly, sucking gently as you felt his hands find their way into your hair. 

A loud thud, what you were certain was his head making contact with the headboard. 

His hips bucking up, forcing him further down your throat. 

The soft “Fuck” assuring you, you were doing something right. 

You moaned around his shaft, relaxing your throat to take as much down as you could manage. You let him take control as much as his position would allow letting him fuck your mouth hard and fast. 

Grunts a mixture of effort and pleasure as he slid with ease between your lips. 

His massive form twitched and he stopped abruptly, the hot, thick rope hitting the back of your throat, swallowing what you could before it became too much to handle, the excess spurting from the throbbing tip as you released him to take a breath.

You moved to wipe your mouth on the back of your hand and Six’s hand snapped out, closing around your wrist. 

You looked up and he was shaking his head. “Don't”

You tipped your head curiously with a smirk as he pulled you closer, you climbed in his lap, arms draped over his neck as he kissed you harshly, tasting his release on your tongue as he was sure you could taste yours on his. 

He scooted back down, lying you on his chest as you sighed with a satisfied hum. “God I missed you”

He chuckled softly, taking a deep breath, breathing you in, your scent invading his senses, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I missed you too sweetheart” 

He sighed, your eyes saying the things your voice wasn’t. 

Six’s time at home had been fleeting this time around; he had been here and gone again within a day and a half.

A quick kiss and he tried to fly down the stairs, unsuccessfully because of the hold you’d had on his wrist. He stopped turning to look at you. 

He pulled you against him, burying his nose in your hair as he kissed the top of your head; your arms wrapped tightly around his back as you fought to keep your composure. 

“Two weeks, tops” he whispered into your hair; you only hugged him tighter, knowing he couldn’t possibly know that for sure. 

“Make someone else go” You muttered against his chest “You just got back” 

He laughed softly, big hands rubbing up and down your arms. “I can’t…”  he pushed you back gently so he could look into your eyes “This one is personal” 

Your brow creased as your frowned “What do you mean personal?” 

His shoulders dropped as he let out a heavy sigh and it clicked “Lloyd…” you sighed

He nodded “He won’t stay in one place very long”

A strong finger under your chin lifted your head and you sighed looking up at him, the worry clear as day on your face. 

You let out a slow breath swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat; eyes  dropping to look at your shoes.

You had never met this man, but the stories were enough to never want to and even those weren’t many. He had injured someone in Six’s care, and was the reason the only person Six had even remotely considered family had died. He was a monster. 

“Please be careful” you whispered softly 

He nodded dropping his hand “Always” 

You scoffed “Not always” You reached up to cup his cheek “You better come back to me” 

He didn’t answer, just leaned forward, claiming your lips in a gentle kiss as the tears you had been fighting to hold back slid silently down your cheeks. 

He pulled back and you sighed with a sniff, wiping the tears from your face. “Promise me” 

When he didn’t say anything you closed your eyes taking a breath “Just this once, promise me, if it goes sideways, you will get out…please” 

You stood eyes locked with his, seeing that emotionless mask crack for the briefest moment before he nodded. “I promise, just another Thursday.” 

You huffed pulling yourself against him, burying your face in his chest. “No it isn’t, and you know it” 

He pulled away then and you let him go; you knew if he was going to catch this bastard he had to leave and he had to leave now. 

“Here,” he undid the watch around his wrist, holding it out to you 

You shook your head “I can’t take that; it’s too important to you” 

“Then keep it safe for me” he wrapped it around your wrist, having to do it up on the last available hole in the band so it would fit around your wrist. 

He took your face in both hands, giving you one final bruising kiss; whispering a barely heard ‘I love you’ against your lips before he was down the stairs and gone. 

You turned, going back inside, the door closing heavily behind you as you locked and leaned against it. A flurry of emotions bursting through the dam in your chest as you finally let yourself cry. You slid down the door, settling on the floor with a hard thump covering your mouth with your hand as the tears streamed freely down your cheeks. The fear, the sadness, the sliver of hope that he hadn’t just walked down those stairs to wherever, and you’d never see him again. 

You cried so hard you nearly made yourself sick before you got yourself under control and pulled yourself to your feet. 

You took a deep breath, wiping the tears out of your eyes and off your face as you made your way to the kitchen. 

You stopped halfway through the threshold, breath catching in your throat seeing the man you didn’t recognize sitting on top of your counter with his arms folded and ankles crossed in front of him. 

“Hiya Sunshine,” he smiled in a way that made your skin crawl as he hopped off the counter and your heart slammed in your chest.  

“Can I help you?” You fought to keep your voice even as a thousand thoughts raced through your mind one after the other; trying to place this man. 

“You really are easy on the eyes, aren’t you?” he asked, ignoring your question, advancing forward and you instinctively took a step back, 

“Do I know you?” you asked, mentally cursing yourself for never counting how many steps were between your kitchen and front door, but not daring to turn your back and bolt. 

“Your boy certainly does” 

Lloyd.

Your blood froze, you were sure all the colour had drained from your face then. 

“Based on the doe eyed bambi look on your face, I’m gonna take a shot in the dark and say you’ve heard of me” 

“I don’t know-”

“Oh please,” he rolled his eyes with a dismissive wave of his hand “Don’t pull the ‘I don’t know who you’re talking about’ card, it’s just disrespectful”

You didn’t answer, just kept moving slowly backward into the living room as he moved closer across the kitchen. 

Your eyes scanning his form, not seeing any blatantly obvious weapon easily within reach. 

You took your opportunity and turned swiftly on your heel and raced for the door. 

In a flash your hand gripped the doorknob and had it been unlocked you would have been free. Instead, Lloyd shoved you against the door, his body pinning you to the unforgiving surface as he laughed maniacally next to your ear; a fistful of your hair in your hand as he pulled your head back hard, making you grit your teeth and squeeze your eyes shut briefly 

“Oh no, no, no, no, no” he shook his head “We’re gonna get more acquainted; see if I can figure out what it is about our boy that you like so much” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” you asked, voice strained as you turned your head as much as his grip in your hair would allow; he was watching you with a raised eyebrow waiting for you to finish. “He’s got a massive-”  Before you could finish, your head banged hard against the wooden door and Lloyd scoffed with disgust. 

“Don’t be gross, it’s unladylike” 

You scoffed with a laugh trying hard to ignore the instant throbbing headache “That’s your mistake for thinking I’m a lady Lloyd” 

Your composure was quickly slipping away as you were running out of ideas for an escape. 

“And the lady has me at a disadvantage,” Lloyd spoke slowly, his breath hot against your ear making you cringe. “I don’t really need to know your name anyway, doesn’t matter much, you’ll scream all the same” 

You scoffed “He’s gonna kill you”

“Oh sweetheart, not if I kill you first”

That was the last thing you heard before it all went dark.

[dindjiarin]

Six Days, Part I - (Sierra Six x F!Reader)

Being stuck in a room with Sierra Six for a week causes more drama than you thought.

This was a 16 hour fever dream. It's probably going to be a two-parter, but this one ends satisfyingly anyway! I had to get this out of my head because ✨️Sierra Six deserves a lil kiss✨️ 😌

Beginning / Ending / Prequel

TAGS: Smut, One Bed, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Six x F!Reader

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI 18+, sexual content, blood/wounds/death, poor knowledge of wound care.

WORD COUNT: 7.9k

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

I

The knife slashes diagonally across your upper thigh, cutting deep enough you see … yellow? That’s probably not good, your mind flashes. You stumble forward, holding the wound.

The man who had just given it to you tries to grab you again; he was careless where the knife in his right hand went, as long as you weren’t killed. His gloved hand snatches at your left arm, but his attempt ends abruptly. You feel his body fall to the floor with a thump. You hadn’t even heard the gunshot, but there in front of you appears a disheveled Six, his firearm still pointed down the hallway behind you. 

His eyes drop to your hands clutched around your bloody leg, and he closes the distance between the two of you in a second.

“You’re okay. Can you run?” He sounds calm.

One hand reaches out to gingerly touch the side of your face; he tilts his head to peer into your eyes. It won’t cross your mind until later that he’s trying to keep you from panicking. 

“I-” your voice breaks. “I think so, yeah.” 

Six nods, thankful that your adrenaline has taken hold; even he'd be making noise with that kind of injury. That wound was certainly going to require several stitches. 

“Hold on to me.”

He indicates his belt, wanting to keep you close behind him but needing to keep his arms free. You comply gladly, curling your fingers through a belt loop. Though still scared, your body responds automatically to the protectiveness emanating from the man who has watched over you for the last four months. 

He sweeps through the house, following the escape route he’d had planned from the very day he got here. You try not to see but the specter of death is unavoidable. Black-clothed, anonymous bodies lay strewn across broken glass. Debris extends throughout the house, but mercifully the kitchen is corpse-free. Six guides you across the room, and he reaches out for the garage door. As it swings open, Six curses. 

“What’s wrong?” You whisper to his back.

He hesitates, then states, “A friend did me a favor.”

He doesn’t move toward the broken body lying next to the vehicle - it’s clear by the angle of the man’s neck that he’s beyond help. 

“We’re even,” Six solemnizes over the man.

He says it so quietly that you’re sure you weren’t meant to hear. You feel a prickle in your nose like you’re near tears. You don’t know if it’s the situation or the fact that you’ve never seen the reticent man show any strong emotion, but you scrutinize the back of his head, trying to understand what’s inside.

“I’m sorry, Six,” you breathe. You drop your hand from his belt to give him space.

Six doesn’t respond. 

You can’t really tell the difference between the man lying there and the other bodyguards that had been rotated through over the past week. Six had hidden the fact that he knew the man well; you’d never seen them interact.

He steps over to the driver’s door cautiously. You wince as your adrenaline starts to fade and the distraction of Six’s body is gone. Ensuring no joy-riders are hiding in the backseat, he climbs in and starts the car. As the engine springs to life, he observes you standing still in the headlights and deadpans, “You stayin’ here?” 

*****************************

The two of you burst into the tiny apartment, not initially noticing the fact that it’s shockingly small: one chair, one bed, one bathroom. Without warning, he scoops you up into his arms and heads into the bathroom, flicking on the single bulb. He sets you gently on the countertop. He bends to grab a first-aid kit from the cabinet, and you wobble without his support, lightheaded from blood loss and exhaustion. His hands steady you and he stares into your eyes, willing you to be composed. You blink twice, realizing his face has never been this close to you - ever. You smile shyly, and he frowns. Clearly, he thinks you’re in shock. Your heart is racing but it has very little to do with the night’s events.

You’d been half-expecting an assault for some time now, and you’d prepared yourself as best a normal person could. Sure, you were scared - nothing would ever be the same now. But you had survived, thanks to Six, and the cold, animal part of your brain knew that was all that mattered. No, the thudding of your pulse was the fault of the ever-present magnetism you felt for the man working before you.

“I’m going to cut your jeans,” Six states.

You nod, mind racing with thoughts too silly to vocalize. He pulls a folding knife from his pocket and gingerly slices away the front half of the already-cut pant leg. You’re left with what resembles a pant-mullet and you giggle a little hysterically at the ridiculous thought. 

He peeks up at you, now certain you’re in shock, “Lean against the mirror.” 

You obey, your eyes lifting to the ceiling as you recline. Six rises from his hunched position, standing so close that you can still see his face out of the bottom of your vision.

“Tell me when you need a break.” His voice is gentle, but you notice his jaw clenching. His hands settle on your skin. “Deep breath.” 

Then the pain blinds you. You’d been silently crying in the car, the constant burning feeling in your leg causing you to grind your teeth, fidget, do anything you could to distract yourself. But the bite of the needle through your torn, pained flesh as he stitches you back together is much worse.

You slam your palms down against the edge of the counter, gripping tight - your sheer willpower the only thing keeping you from thrashing against him. You take deep breaths as he instructed, trying to leave your body behind. 

Your mind wanders to earlier in the night, before chaos reigned, when Six had actually agreed to play a video game with you. You’d let him pick the game, and he’d chosen a first-person shooter (because of course he did). You’d still beaten the trained assassin. He’d sat beside you on the couch, his body heating your right side, and when you won the match, you’d sworn the side of his mouth turned up a little at your gloating. You’d spent most of your time together trying to make the man laugh, so you’d take anything he gave you. When he beat you in the next round, you’d been a sore loser - accusing him of cheating. You had poked his side, gently, and he had actually laughed. Okay, you checked yourself, it was more like a snort, but it counted. 

But then he had admitted to it, “Gotta use everything to your advantage. I could see your location on your side of the screen.” 

You gasped, “You’re a screen-looker!”

“A what?” He scoffed. “There’s a name for it? And not even a creative one.” 

“Yeah, for cheaters who screen-look.” You glared.

He’d rolled his eyes, then met your stare with his own, much more intense one. His face might be guarded, but his eyes expressed his feelings. He always tried to hide it, but everything was written there among the blue. Your heart had lurched, your breathing requiring thought. For God’s sake, he was so close. His eyes weakly flickered down to your parted lips; but then he had stood, walked a few paces away from the couch. 

“It’s late. You should get some sleep.”

Rattled, you followed his lead. You knew he wanted you in your room; he always did his rounds once you turned in for the night. You had stood and stretched upwards, relieving your back. You never saw the guilty way his eyes followed the curves of your body as you moved, nor the way his jaw ticked as you bent to turn off the gaming console. 

When you’d turned around, he had been perfectly composed. You had passed by him as close as you dared, close enough to hear the gum he was chewing, and muttered, “Goodnight, cheater.” 

“Goodnight, loser.” He’d said, shrugging at you as you closed the bedroom door. You’d laughed at that, and as soon as your door had closed, he’d allowed himself to smirk.

He stuck the needle through a particularly sensitive section of your leg, and you were thrust back into your new reality. The safe house wasn’t safe anymore, and people had died because of you. Including Six’s friend. He’d probably request an entirely new team now; one that would replace him. He’d be free of the assignment he’d had for too long. You’d heard him say once that most assignments don't last longer than a week, and he’d been stuck babysitting you for months.

Your eyes close again, and a sob escapes.

He stops, “I'm just over halfway. You need a break?”

You shake your head, “Get it over with.”

The next stitches are as painful as the others. But then you feel his hands leave your skin, and you hear something fall in the trash can - bloody material, maybe. You hear Six wash his hands in the sink next to you, then dry them with a towel. Exhaustion tinges your every thought, now. It’d been nearly a full day since you’d slept.

Tears fall from your closed eyes, unbidden. Gently, but quickly, his fingers wipe away the liquid, and your eyelids flutter open at the contact. The ugly light causes you to squint, but you see Six lean toward you. His right arm slips under your legs, his left snakes around your back, and he lifts you from the counter. You softly cling to his neck. He’s careful not to jar your leg as he maneuvers out of the bathroom and across the room. The bed dips with your weight as he sets you down on top of the covers. Instead of moving you again, he lays a different blanket across your body. He leaves your wound uncovered. 

“Don’t let that touch your leg. Need to keep it as clean as possible, and the last time these were washed, cell phones still had visible antennas.”

“Yes, sir.” You say sleepily. It’d been a long day, a longer night, and though your leg was still paining you, the temptation of the abyss was greater. 

Six watches you fall asleep from the red wingback chair in the corner. He was grateful it was thickly padded - he wasn’t sure he could sit in a plastic chair with the bruises he had. There was no couch, and only one bed, but he wasn’t going to sleep anyway.

He wanted to believe that this safe house, two hours away from the previous, was off-the-books enough for his enemies to have overlooked it.

We’re fine here, he was nearly chanting to himself, willing it to be true. But he wasn’t going to relax, wasn’t going to get complacent. Not when he had a job to do.

*****************************

II

Six’s entire body ached. He hadn’t moved from his chair except to use the bathroom. He was completely still, his arms folded across his body. He wanted to check the perimeter; he wanted to see what was going on outside. Maybe they were setting up for a raid out there. Maybe they were already on their way inside. Or maybe they had one or two agents doing recon, trying to get a confirmed sighting of him or of you. And if it was the latter, him exiting the building would be the opposite of helpful. But god, he hated sitting here feeling useless.

His eyes kept dancing over your sleeping form. You’d slept fitfully at first, but you seem peaceful now, despite it being nearly mid-afternoon. Six wouldn’t dream of waking you unless necessary. The chair creaks as he leans forward, his elbows on his knees, hands covering his face. 

How could he have found out? What didn’t I do?

He couldn’t carry the heaviness in his heart. His whole life had been about protecting others; his brother, buddies in prison, strangers, and now you. It’s all he knew, it’s all he wanted to do. Now, because of him, Denver was dead. 

Six had asked him to help beef up security for a few days. There’d been word that something was likely to go down soon and Six had looked to one of the few men he truly trusted for help. He grimaced, mourning the dead man; he’d saved Denver’s ass three separate times, each one becoming a joke between them about life debts. Six wished he could’ve been there a fourth time, but he also knew he wouldn’t have altered a thing. 

You hadn’t been asleep like he’d assumed so he had broken the pattern in their established rounds to find you. He’d felt nearly panicked searching the house, and when he recognized what he was feeling, he’d grunted, trying to shake it off like a broken toe or a stab wound. It had hurt nearly as badly. He’d shot two men and gotten into blows with a third before finally seeing you at the end of the hallway as you left the bathroom, and of course, he had shot the fourth: your friend, the knife-wielder. Six would never forget the way his body had sagged with relief at finding you. 

No, even if he had known that he had a choice that night between you and Denver, he wouldn’t have hesitated in his answer.

And there’s the problem. He somehow knows my answer, too.

*****************************

You sat up quickly, knowing you’d slept longer than normal as the golden light streamed through the small, frosted window. Hoping to neutralize the hunger pains, you threw off the blanket and swung your legs over the side of the bed, hissing at the new pain. 

“Well, don’t undo all my hardwork.” Six’s favorite tone with you was exasperation; like a man whose patience was always at its limit, but never beyond.

“It’s fine, doctor,” you toss back sarcastically, “I just forgot about it.” 

“You - forgot - about the gash in your leg?”

“...yes.” 

He rolls his eyes, a hand passing over his face. You’re about to thank him for stitching you up, since he’s apparently sensitive about it, when your stomach growls. 

“Is there anything to eat?” 

“Yeah.” 

You bite your lip and narrow your eyes at him. “Okay, I guess I will make us some food.”

He doesn’t move except to pick up a book from the shelf. 

You hobble over to the kitchenette and see the world’s worst pantry. Canned peaches, olives, green beans, and chicken - the latter of which you gag over. There’s a mini-fridge on the counter next to the hot plate. You open that and see a carton of eggs. Wonder how old those are. The carton seemed new, so you open it and are pleasantly surprised by twelve fresh eggs. 

A few minutes later, you’ve made two chopped olive omelettes. There are no plates, but there is a roll of paper towels. You walk slowly toward the chair Six has taken up residence in, an omelette on a makeshift paper plate in your hand. He sees the movement and looks up from the book. He stands and leans forward to take it from you, with a curt, “Thank you.” 

“So, what do we do now?” You ask. Your mouth is half-full of egg and you’re nearly unintelligible. 

“We wait.”

“For what?”

“For things to get quiet.” 

“Mmm.” You nod, still chewing. “Okay, then what?”

He looks up from his own food, answering, “We move. Further away.” 

“Okay. And by ‘we’, you mean you’re not leaving?” You keep the nervousness out of your voice.

“What-? Where would I be going?” Genuinely not anticipating your question, Six’s eyebrows knit together. He blinks, gears turning in his head. 

It finally clicks for him and he frowns; you’re a little confused how your question could irritate him, but you can’t stop the satisfied grin blooming on your face. The soulful eyes, the little curl of hair resting on his forehead, Six is one of the most handsome men you’ve ever met, as well as a good friend, and the thought of leaving you apparently never even crossed his mind.

“And now you’re smiling?” He’s now totally bewildered. 

Six is doing his damndest to put distance between the two of you emotionally, but you seem to be happy about …him staying with you? After assuming he’d leave you in this mess? He is speechless, his food forgotten momentarily.

“Nothing, really. Don’t worry about it. I just woke up, I’m still loopy.” You awkwardly smile again. You realize he’s not going to be satisfied with that, but you’re definitely not admitting your thoughts. So, you edit and try again.

“Okay, well, I figured since the original team is gone, a new one would be coming. Also,” you pause, knowing he’s against emotional oversharing, “I am very sorry about that. I know it doesn’t mean anything in the grand scheme, but I feel terrible. How do you get used to a life like this? People dying for you? My project wasn’t that incredible. There are more intelligent, more experimental chemists than me. There is no way my knowledge was worth that.”

You set your partially-eaten food down beside you, no longer hungry. 

“You don’t get used to it.”

He answers your first question in the rawest voice you’ve heard from him. His eyes bore holes into the floor, desperately wanting to come clean, to relieve you of your guilt. They didn’t die for you, they died for him. 

You try to catch his eye, to raise him from whatever mood suddenly snagged him, but he won’t look at you. He’s conflicted. Not only is he hiding the truth from you, but you still believe he’s capable of leaving you at the first bit of trouble, that he’ll give you up to another protection detail at his earliest opportunity. Six decides he cannot sit any longer. He rises, still avoiding your face, checks his gun, and walks to the door.

“I’m going to do a perimeter check; probably be gone ten minutes. I’ll knock in that pattern I showed you.” He pauses then adds, “If I don’t, there’s a trapdoor in the bathroom.”  

“Alright,” you say quietly, your eyes on his back. Confused by his behavior and unable to let him leave in that manner, you can’t help but stage-whisper, “Please be safe, Six.” 

You can’t see the way his throat constricts, the way he closes his eyes and lets your words soak in. Then he’s gone.

You mark the time with the analog clock on the bookshelf, and busy yourself by exploring the infinitesimal room. Your college dorm had been larger than this. The bathroom door is closed, and when you open it to find the trapdoor - just in case - the door hits the toilet bowl. 

“Wow,” you wonder. “How did we both fit in here last night?”

You crouch to explore the grimy linoleum for the hidden seam, but you don’t see anything. Your eyes strain and your head bobs from side to side, trying to see something. But you find nothing. Maybe he’s confused this place with a different tiny, foreign safe house. Unwilling at the moment to actually feel around the gross floor, you’re content to just believe he’ll knock in the correct pattern.

You turn back into the main room, and pick up the book Six had been reading off the chair. A trashy bodice-ripper? How in the hell had he kept a straight face? You cover your mouth to stifle a laugh. There’s no way he’d actually even read the title. He - for sure - had been trying and failing to seem preoccupied while you cooked. You’d get even with him for that.

You sprawl out on the bed, the book still in hand. You skip to a third of the way through, hoping to find the good parts, and sure enough: pure bodice-ripping. Again, you laugh out loud at the absurdity of the emotionally-repressed man you know reading this. Feeling this.

That sparks an idea in you; it had been a good long while since you’d been allowed to be completely alone. The waistband of your mangled jeans is loose enough to slip your hand down, and you engross yourself in a particularly dirty passage. 

You're totally absorbed by the filthy story when the front door flies open and Six barrels through, shutting it as quietly as he could compared to his violent entrance. He flinches at your aborted scream, watches as your hand rips out of your jeans and you scoot up against the wall, trying to seem like you were not doing what you were definitely just doing. 

The two of you stare at each other for a breath too long. Knowing he won’t - or can’t - you break the silence, “See anything?”

He short-circuits for a second, “No, you’re wearing jeans.” And then he realizes what you were actually asking about, “Oh, no. Nothing.” 

His face is flushed and he can’t meet your eyes anymore. You’re under the impression you’ve mortified him, but he knows if he keeps looking at your excited, glowing face for a second longer, he’ll make a decision you could both regret.

“I’m really sorry. Why didn’t you knock?” You titter at the ridiculous situation. But you’re less embarrassed than you thought you’d be. It hits you suddenly that Six has always made you feel safe in a multitude of ways, and maybe... maybe you don’t mind being caught by him.

“I did knock. You didn’t answer. Hence the busted door.” 

“Oh.” You peer up at him sheepishly.

He doesn’t make a reply, so you question, “Why were you pretending to read this?”

“Hm?” He settles his firearm back in its holster. 

Six takes a long, calming breath, then meets your eyes. He’s as stoic as can be - except, now you're starting to wonder if it’s a front. You’d long felt like there was an electricity between the two of you. You’d seen Six’s eyes on you more than they should be, you’d feel his hand hover over your lower back sometimes when he walked you to your room, sending chills through you. He was reliable, protective, witty - he was also kind and selfless, though he let few people see it. But only in your daydreams could you believe he had any real feelings for you. 

…so why did he just react that way? Wouldn’t a normal bodyguard apologize (right or wrong) and move on? They wouldn’t have to stand there and collect themselves, surely.

Or I’m just seeing what I want to, you chastise yourself.

“I know you were not actually reading this.” You tease, waving the book in the air.

“And how do you know that?” It’s clear he doesn’t even know what the book is about. He folds his arms across his chest and you attempt to discreetly ogle the vein on his bicep.

The smirk on your face warns him that you’re about to say something he’d rather not hear, “You wanna know how I know you weren’t reading this book of trashy erotica?” You heavily emphasize the words, and his eyes go wide. “Want me to read some aloud?”

He lunges toward you and snatches the book. “No. No, I do not.” 

He absolutely cannot let you read porn aloud to him, he would lose all semblance of control. Six was already losing it, and that thought has him grumbling under his breath. Unthinkingly, he glances at the page you had open and he groans. This is what you were masturbating to? Fuck, shit. He shouldn’t have looked. His teeth grind together. 

Oblivious, you bounce off the bed onto your good leg and say, “Since there’s no one out there, we need food for dinner. Is a store nearby?” 

“I’ll go." He immediately takes the diversion. "Gotta find a new doorknob, anyway. You stay here, and listen for my knock.” He pins you with another exasperated look. 

You huff, “Okay, jesus.”

You want to push him, ask him for the book back, ask him if you’re allowed to continue, but you can see he’s on edge. So you let it go.

He tosses the book unceremoniously on the highest shelf which you can’t reach. You glare at his backside, but he’s gone without turning around.

Six doesn’t get surprised. He doesn't let emotion get the better of him often, and in the past hour you’ve done it twice in two very different ways. He takes a deep breath, and swears again to build one more wall. He can’t let you continue being in danger because of him.

But, part of him knows there’s not much he can really do; leaving would only make you vulnerable and leave him lost. He couldn’t leave your fate up to strangers. No, he knew staying was still the best option. He just needed to stop entangling himself in you. Six’s best chance at protecting you long-term was to convince everyone else that you meant nothing to him. That meant getting through this current shitshow, and disengaging from you. You deserved a normal, boring life. A life where you wouldn’t be hunted, used as a pawn, just to hurt him.

*****************************

Six didn’t speak to you again the entire night. He hadn’t been able to get much with the cash he’d had on hand, but dinner was satisfying enough. You’d handed him his portion on another paper towel, and he had nodded his thanks, but that was just about the only communication he gave you all night. He’d fixed the door and you’d teased him about being handy, but his only response had been to stick his palm out for one of the screws you'd been holding.

He then picked up a book, pointedly avoiding his earlier choice, and actually read all evening while you snuck glances at the way the light from the dusty reading lamp caught his fair hair, his tense face. He had pretended not to notice, but each time your head tilted toward him, he realized his feelings might not be quite so one-sided.

Sure, he knew you were attracted to him; after all, he was trained to notice the little things. The difference between your genuine smile and the polite ones you gave the other bodyguards; the way you unconsciously broke his personal space, brushing past him, poking him; and the way you tried to take care of him. He'd never had that, never had someone bring him glasses of water while he sat at his laptop, ask him how he felt about a certain song, what his favorite flavor of gum was.

But he was afraid it was more Stockholm Syndrome, or boredom, than genuine affection. You were a good person, and bringing someone a glass of water wasn't a Declaration of Intent. So, he had ignored the numerous times you turned to him - written them off as restlessness.

Now, the sheets scratch your face and you rub your eyes, sleep calling you once again. You roll over to face Six, still in his chair, to ask him to join you. Not for anything nefarious, but because you know he must be exhausted. The past thirty-six hours had been stressful, and your method of coping with humor had been at his expense.

Your eyes adjust with the dim lamplight and you see the book drooping from one limp hand, his eyes closed and head tilted to the side. Happy he was finally getting some rest, you shuffle off of the bed, take the book and mark his place before setting it on the shelf. You grab the plush blanket he had given you last night and drape it over his much-larger body. It didn’t fully cover him, but it’d do.

You gaze down at him, admiring his vulnerable form. Six meant more to you than you cared to tell him. No family, a workaholic with coworkers for friends, you’d let yourself grow fond of the reserved, self-sacrificing blonde man with the affinity for chewing gum. It was the closest you’d been to a person in over a year. No matter what he considered you - a client, a ward, a burden - you considered him a friend.

“Thanks for always being there, Six,” you whisper, knowing he wouldn’t hear. You softly kiss the top of his hair, then get back in bed. The abyss welcomes you back. You must’ve been dreaming when you heard what sounded like a defeated groan.

*****************************

III

You wake the next morning to Six seated on the opposite corner of the bed, his gun in pieces. You prop yourself up on your left elbow and watch as he painstakingly cleans each part. 

“Can you teach me how to do that?”

He lowers the barrel in his hands, turning to you. You’re backlit by the small window on the far wall, and he curses inwardly. You look sleepy, domestic. Something pure and stable that he knows he’ll never have. 

“Yeah, I can.”

He twists a little in place to fully face you, and you crawl a little closer to see the parts. He picks up a piece and hands it to you, extremely careful not to touch you.

“This,” he explains, “is the slide. It’s what chambers a new round and ejects the old casing.” He hands you a paper towel, again obviously avoiding your skin. “I like a softer cloth, but I don’t have anything blood-free. Gently rub the interior.” He instructs.

You do as he asks, working in silence. You hold it up to him for inspection, a smile, disproportionately proud of your simple task, beams on your face. He responds with a faint smile, and places the slide on another towel designated for finished parts. 

“Can you show me how to-” You falter as he turns his heavy eyes back to you. “Like, if I needed to, how to use it?” You hesitantly ask, hoping you weren’t bothering him. You’re not a fan of firearms, they’ve always made you nervous. But if push came to shove, you’d prefer not to be using the gun as a club. 

Six is not quite so nervous around guns, and he nods, agreeing that you should have every possible manner of defending yourself. 

“Sure.”

You watch in silent admiration as he puts his weapon back together faster than you’d ever be able to, meeting his eye at the end and giving him a dramatic, impressed look. He smiles again, a shade more than earlier. 

You slide over to sit beside him, your legs dangling off the bed. He spends the next few minutes helping you find your way around the gun. He still refuses to touch you, and it gets more noticeable with every second. He even sets the gun on the bed for you to pick up rather than hand it to you. You wilt a little at that, sure now that you’ve pushed him away even further than you thought. You can’t help but feel a pit in your stomach. He’s never been a touchy-feely, overly-friendly person; why did you make him so uncomfortable yesterday? You want to kick yourself. 

You watch as he stifles a yawn. 

“Didn’t you sleep?” You ask incredulously.

“I slept enough.” 

“No, you didn’t.” 

Six sneaks a quick, longing glance at you, replaying last night’s feeling of your lips on his hair. How he’d woken up at your touch. How could he have slept after that? He’d warred with himself about climbing up beside you, holding you close. But Six didn’t want to push this now. He knew there was a power imbalance here (although most of the time it felt to him like you were the one in control) and he didn’t want your feelings out of gratitude or survival. He’d compromised with himself by letting his mind free; he imagined your breathy sighs as you slept curled against him, how perfectly you’d fit alongside his body, the feeling of your hair between his fingers. He tears himself away.

“Please take a nap. You’re no good to either of us dead on your feet like this.” 

“For a corpse, I think I look pretty good.” 

“Six, for god’s sake, it’s daylight and it’s been silent for days. I promise I will wake you at any noise.” Your voice drips with earnesty, “I promise.” 

He rubs his brow, knowing you’re right. “Yeah, okay.” His eyes are intent upon you, “You promise.” 

You nod twice in quick succession and he makes a face like he’s accepting a plea bargain. He stands, then all but collapses onto the same side of the bed where you’ve been sleeping. You take up vigil in his chair, and it doesn’t take him long to fall asleep.

After an hour, your legs begin to cramp, and you start pacing the tiny apartment. Still feeling a little guilty for yesterday, you wonder if there’s any gum nearby. Maybe a vending machine? You assess Sleeping Beauty: still breathing deeply. You tiptoe over to the door and unlock it. Six’s rhythm is unchanged by the sound of the deadbolt, so you slowly pull the door open. Peeking your head out, you see a featureless, white hallway; several other plain-looking doors leading to God-knows-where; and there, at the end and nearly out of sight due to the alcove it’s in, is a glowing vending machine. You pat your pocket and find two coins. Should be enough, you hope. You’re unfamiliar with the local currency, and honestly you’re not even totally sure which country you’re in. You prop the door open, just in case, and cautiously step out into the hallway.

Ears straining for any noise at all, you begin your trek. Keeping your feet as close to the baseboards as you can, you make as little sound as possible. Eventually you reach the vending machine, and you’re right - you have no idea which country this is as you don’t even recognize the language. But you can identify a pack of chewing gum anywhere. It’s only one of the coins, so you pop it in and get your reward. Uneventfully, you return to the room, quietly slipping the door closed, and deadbolting it shut.

Six sleeps for another few hours, while you spend time making lunch for when he wakes up, and reading some of the other, mostly boring, novels scattered around. One novel piques your interest with a convoluted plot which helps time pass. The book makes you feel uneasy, makes you start to wonder about your own situation. It really doesn’t make sense for Six to still be assigned to you over some biochemical project that never even made it to the testing stage. The fact that someone had actually attacked you made even less sense. None of your research was on your person, and it’s not like you had memorized every single formula. Maybe Six knew more than he’d told you. 

Thinking about Six makes you grow lonely, wishing selfishly he would wake. You’re debating getting in bed and taking a nap with him, your only inhibitor being your promise, when he stirs. He shoots up like a dead man raised from the grave, his hand going to his side where his weapon usually rests.

“Everything’s fine,” you assure him.

“Mmph,” he grumbles. You’re trying not to stare at him, but he looks so uncharacteristically soft, you can’t help it. He pretends not to notice, thankfully. Six tosses the covers off, and picks his gun up from the nightstand. He walks to the door and listens. Satisfied, he turns around and sits back on the mattress. 

“I can make lunch-” he starts to offer, but you cut him off.

“I already made you some,” you swiftly grab the sandwich from the mini-fridge and deliver it to him. After he takes it, you pull the gum from your pocket, extending it towards him, too.

His eyes jump from you to the gum and back again twice. “Where’d you squirrel that away?” He jokes, thinking you took it from your previous residence. Then he remembers the machine outside. His face tightens, “You didn’t leave the room, did you?”

“... don’t be mad at me,” you begin slowly, dropping your hand to your side.

“Dammit.” Six hisses. “Dammit, you promised.” He’s off the bed again, towering over you. 

He shakes his head, disbelieving. He’s still in the hyper-alert mode he has been used to for twenty years. But his eyes keep catching on your pouting lips. He’s finding temptation difficult to ignore when all he can think about is how those lips would make him feel.

“I upheld my promise! There were no noises!” You know it’s not a real defense.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to keep his mind on the problem. “Did you see anyone? Did anyone see you?”

“No to the first, and honestly, I can’t answer the second.”

His mouth opens to retort, but he closes it, thinking better of whatever he was going to say. He raises his hands in supplication and slowly states, “You can’t go out there alone.” 

“I wanted to do something nice.” You explain. “But I am sorry. I was trying to ease some small amount of stress for you, not add to it.”

Six snorts and looks away. You'd put yourself in danger to make him happy. How was he supposed to react to that?

When he turns back to you a moment later, he reaches to take your wrist. Goosebumps appear down your arm, but he tries to ignore them. You loosen your grip on the small paper package, allowing him to take your peace offering. You don’t want him to let go of your wrist, and he doesn’t. His hand is hot, his thumb rubbing languidly across your skin. 

“Thank you,” he says sincerely. “But shockingly, you take priority over gum.” His tone deepens and he orders again, “Do not go anywhere alone.” 

He’s not trying to turn you on, but with his rough hand holding yours, his authoritative face inches from your own, and his protective demands, you feel the tension coiling.

“Mhm, noted,” you respond. 

Your blood feels hot. Surely he can feel your pulse thrumming? You try to shake yourself out of the rising heat you feel. Take a cold shower, you thirsty bitch, you mentally jar yourself.

“You wanna relax? Make my job a little easier? It’s like you’re trying to kill me yourself.” Six accuses playfully, finally releasing your wrist, where - yes - he had been enjoying your quickening pulse. 

His soulful eyes dance between yours. You feel flames licking up your body, your stomach tightening in anticipation. Am I killing him? The way he’s killing me? Your heart is hammering, body screaming for him to touch you again. 

“Little dramatic,” you snort, surprised it comes out in a normal tone of voice. Turning away from him, you walk towards the bathroom.

And you’re not sure what possesses you, you’re half-sure he can’t stand you, but still you hear yourself say, “I’m going to shower. Am I allowed to do that alone, Six?” 

His head snaps, his intense stare nearly stopping your breath. You watch him swallow hard and you wonder what he’s thinking. Your chin tilts upward, eyes locked with his, confirming every pass you’ve ever made at him.

And well, he tried, didn’t he? Six is a strong man. He’d been stabbed, shot, he’d fallen from great heights, been pepper-sprayed - and through everything, he’d kept on fighting. But this? The slow drip of you over the past few months had been bad enough, but stuck in this room with you nearly begging for him? He wasn’t strong enough for that.

“No. You’re not,” he growls.

He crosses the room in two strides, his arms enfolding you. He grunts as he lifts you up and backs you into the wall; at the same time his lips come hard against yours, months of repressed feeling apparent in his grip, his fevered kiss.

Your legs curl around his waist, tugging him closer, and your hands move down him - everything you can reach, you want to feel. Your hands press in his hair, his beard, they caress his throat before dropping to feel the beat of his heart through his wide chest. Your frenzied movements send him wild. He had no idea giving in would feel this good; he’s already forgotten about the shower. 

You feel the wall disappear as he moves toward the bed. His knee bends on the soft surface as he lays you onto the blankets. You feel his weight pressing into you, grounding you to him. His left hand slides up your shirt, breaking his kiss to remove it fully. He tugs his own off by the collar, and the sight of his bare chest makes you gasp. Intensely defined muscles riddled with scars and tattoos decorate his body. He's lived a hard life. You’re breathing heavily, chest heaving, and he makes a lustful noise at the sight. He unclasps your bra, replacing it with his mouth. 

“Oh,” you throw your head back at the feeling, and he makes another deep, rumbling sound at your approval.

His pants go next, leaving him in dark red briefs. He pauses and regards your pants, your wounded leg. 

“Um, carefully, I guess?” You shrug. 

He moves his hands appreciatively along your sides, stopping when he reaches your waistband. Six’s beard scratches your sensitive skin as he plants kisses lovingly around your thigh. He’s hoping you understand it’s his apology for not killing the man before he ever touched you. He unbuttons your frayed, fucked-up jeans and places a large hand over the cut on the outside of your leg to protect it while he pulls the material down, your underwear also going. 

As he leans back over you, you can’t help but admire him, your eyes brimming with fondness at his care. His burning chest presses into yours, and you can feel his muscles flexing as his hands grope your body.

Your hands go to his hair once more, clutching him to you. His tongue skates over the hollow at the base of your throat - you inhale sharply at the sensation. His thigh shifts between your legs, and the pressure on your most sensitive area causes you to tilt your hips back and forth, riding him a little. Six notes your reaction greedily; he presses his thigh into you harshly and you whine. He places a large hand around the base of your throat, and continues his mouth’s path upward until he reaches your jaw, spurred on by the obscene moans you’re making. 

“Sweetheart, you’re making me blush," his breath caresses your ear.

One of your hands cradles his chin while the other snakes along his body, pushing his briefs down - he kicks them off. The feeling of his thick, naked thighs against your own nearly distracts you from your goal. But you find him quickly - you knew he would be big there, too - and you relish the way his powerful body goes slack at your touch. In your peripheral, you can see his biceps shake at the tension building in him. Your thumb brushes over a vein, and you shiver as he lets go of the most wrecked groan you’ve ever heard him make. 

You lean up to capture his lips and swallow the sound he just made. His hand plunges into your hair, cradling your head while the other palms your lower back; he grunts as he leans back onto his heels, easily taking you with him. His mouth connects with yours, and his hand slides to the curve of your ass. 

Your thighs straddle him in this kneeling position, and you grind along his smooth erection. His hand on your ass encourages your rhythm. His other arm falls from your hair to wrap around your midsection, holding you tight to him. Six’s kisses are deep, desperate, but tender somehow. It makes you want him everywhere - you want to know nothing but him. You rock forward far enough that his tip catches at your center. 

He stills your movement, keeping you in limbo. He leans his head back to see you. You can feel the strength in his muscles, so you don’t even attempt to fight him for the friction you’re craving. Artlessly pushing back the hair that had fallen in your face, he then rests his palm on your cheek, thumb brushing your swollen bottom lip. 

He shifts his body for a better angle, then slowly - so slowly - pushes up into you. Six’s eyes are almost entirely black, the smallest bit of blue rings his blown pupils as he drinks in your whimper. You didn’t think you could be more turned on, but the look in his eyes is so hungry. He sucks a line of kisses up your neck and the sensation of the warm trail cooling on your skin causes you to clench down on him; he grunts again at that.

You sigh in relief when his hip bones sit flush with yours. You’ve been so ready for this man, the considerable stretch doesn’t hurt in the slightest. You breathlessly laugh; utter bliss surging through you. You don’t try to move, knowing instinctively that he’s in charge. 

“Mmm,” he hums gruffly, running a hand through your hair. 

You feel him twitch inside you, and you want to ask him what he just thought about, but he pulls out and thrusts up into you without warning. You cry out, but he’s not done. He does it again, then again, snapping his hips brutally. You’re getting what you wanted, he’s driving up into you and it is overwhelming; Six is destroying you, piece by piece. His arms flex as they hold you still, his stomach muscles jump at the strain underneath your slack hands. Sweat begins to shine on both of you; the slick reward for his exertion somehow making you wetter elsewhere. A lock of dirty blonde comes free, swinging against his forehead; and you’re mesmerized by the masculine beauty of Sierra Six.

His pattern slows briefly to lay you both back down. His right hand finds its home in your hair, before he begins a deeper, more sensual pace. You gasp out his name at the new feeling, the intimacy. He’s weakened your body so thoroughly that he is absolutely fucking you senseless into the mattress despite his slower pace. You grasp at the bedsheets above your head; you can hear the bed creaking with the force of him. His lips press against your forehead, breathing heavy. One hand cradles the base of your skull while the other plants against the wall for leverage. He tilts his head to rest against yours, and it’s clear he’s all but making love to you at this point. The knot in your stomach gets more tenuous with each and every one of his touches. 

You try to reign in your gasps, your cries, but his left hand falls between where you’re joined, and your attempt at being quiet ends entirely.

His lips brush your ear and he growls, “Should’ve known you’d be as loud in bed as you are every other fucking day.” 

“You love it,” you choke out, smiling smugly.

His voice is heady, “It is that obvious?”

You’re in sensation overload, the feeling of Six pushing inside you, the rhythmic motion of his hand, and that look in his eyes has your body taut as a bowstring. Your hands reach up to frame his face, wanting to hold him, when you're surprised by the tension in your abdomen snapping viciously. You writhe up beneath him, fucking him back, never breaking eye contact. You feel yourself repeatedly clench down as you come apart for him, finally closing your eyes when you breathe out his name. Six possessively parts your lips with his, groans echoing in the space between kisses as he lets go, too. His hips begin to stutter; his abdominal muscles jerk as he buries himself deep within you, spending himself nearly as powerfully as you did.

His head drops to your collarbone and you press another kiss to his hair. Six raises up on his forearms, memorizing the way you look underneath him. His lips meet yours again softly before he carefully eases himself from you. He wraps a muscle-bound arm around you, tugging you to him. Six scoots both of you a few inches onto a pillow and throws the covers over you.

Diffused, indigo light from the window indicates that sunset has just occurred, and you can’t help but hope tomorrow doesn't come. Staying here in this comfortable, intimate twilight world was the only place you cared to exist. You feel Six’s chest press into your back then retreat, and his exhale tickles your ear. The tattoo on his left forearm lay across your naked breast, and you don’t stop yourself from tracing it. 

“That feels wonderful,” his sigh is gravelly. You shift further into him and he responds by pulling you tighter, settling you flush against his body.

“I won’t stop, then,” you promise him quietly. 

He sighs, and within a few moments, you feel his breathing deepen. You keep your promise until you drift away, too.

[glitterpeachtree]

Hurt/Comfort, mentions of depression

It was around 1 pm, and you were still in bed. Noah spent all morning doing yardwork.

"You're still in bed?" He popped into the bedroom and went to open a window, he then turned around and leaned against the wall. Arms crossed, he was staring at you. He was concerned.

Too tired to talk, I nodded. Noah walked to my bed and sat down next to me. "You sick?" He felt my forehead with the back of his hand. I turned away from him. "What's wrong with you?" I could feel him looking at me from behind.

"I don't know." I said under my breath. "I just feel...sad."

Noah touched the side of my face and brushed the hair out of my eyes. He leaned into focus. He was trying to make eye contact with me. "How about we sit on the sofa for a bit? You don't even have to do anything. We could just sit."

I could hear the worry in his voice. He's only seen me like this one other time, and that was because my grandfather died.

Noah took my elbow and led me to the living room. He sat next to me quietly as I was in a trance-like state.

"I'm hungry. Which means you're probably hungry too. I'll be right back." Noah got up and left for a couple minutes, when he came back he had a slice of toast and a glass of orange juice.

"Eat. I promise you'll feel better." Noah set the plate on the wooden coffee table that he made. He sat in the chair next to me as he ate a BLT he made for himself. I picked up the orange juice, sipped from it, and had a few bites of toast.

"Is that all you're gonna eat?" He gestured to my plate. I nodded. He took both our plates to the kitchen.

"Hey, Noah?" I said once he came back. He looked straight at me, you could tell that he was relieved that you talking. "Can you read to me?" I asked him.

Noah smiled and picked up Leaves of Grass and began reading. His voice was so soothing you eventually fell asleep.

[buckysred]

Monopoly

Sierra Six x Fem!Reader

Summary: It’s game night and Claire’s chosen Monopoly. But it seems either you, Claire, or Six are cheating. 

Warnings: Almost completely all fluff but with a little angst if you squint, cursing, this is kinda a crack fic whoops, BAD EDITING

Word Count: 1,296

A/N: I just whipped this up today for fun. This was purely self indulgent. I hope you enjoy despite this only being lightly edited. <3 (also I have no idea how to do a tag list so I’m tagging you here @medievalfangirl​ )

“This is such bullshit.”

You and Claire laughed loudly at the indignation in Six’s voice.

He narrowed his eyes at both of you. “I don't know what you both think is so funny. I certainly don’t find cheating funny.” Six reached down and tapped the board game in emphasis.

It was currently game night. Every Friday evening, Claire eagerly picked out a game for the three of you to play. Tonight, she chose Monopoly. And Six was losing. Bad.

You scoffed at his accusation and turned to Claire, squishing her cheeks together, and shaking her head back in forth at Six. “Does this look like a cheating face to you? I don't think so.”

Six shook his head at your display. “No, I don’t think Claire is the cheater. But you, on the other hand, I wouldn’t put past persuading her into it.”

You bugged your eyes out dramatically and placed your hand on your chest. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing! You think I would do something like this? Never.”

You looked to Claire for backup. “Isn’t that right, Claire?”

With a huge shit-eating grin plastered across her face, she shrugged her shoulders. “Don’t ask me. Like Six said, I’m the innocent one.”

“Now that you’re so eager to call yourself innocent, I’m starting to think you’re the cheater, Miss. Banker.” Your eyes narrowed at her playfully and then sent Six a knowing look, willing him to play along.

Six nodded, immediately picking up on what you were setting up. “You’re right, Y/n. Claire does look suspicious now.”

Claire scrunched her eyebrows together, confused with how the accusing fingers had been flipped onto her. “What?! You just said I was innocent. Since you changed your mind so fast, I think you’re the cheater, Six.”

Six’s face was totally blank, his poker face firmly intact. His voice rang arrogantly, “I’ve got more skill than that. If I was cheating, you’d never guess it.”

Claire nodded her head, his words confirming her suspicions, and turned to look at you. She leaned in close and put her hand to her mouth, making it look like she was sharing a secret. “Yup he’s the perp, for sure. What should we do about it?”

But little did Claire know, while she was so focused on telling you her secret, Six was stealing cash from her banker box and slipping it under the table into your awaiting hands.

You tried to suppress your smirk. Claire may have had Six’s heart in her hands, but so did you. A pouty lip and some love-soaked kisses later, Six was putty in your hands.

You shrugged your shoulders at her, acting unsure. “Not sure. That’s up to you.”

Six eyed you both skeptically. “What are you both scheming over there?”

Claire picked up the lone dice and started to roll her next turn. “Nothing, nothing. Just lady talk, you know how it is.”

Six’s playful demeanor dropped immediately, his cheek twitched up in a faint grimace. “Oh,” He uttered lowly.

You rolled your eyes. Men. The brief mention of periods, and all of a sudden, they were clamming up like you just accidentally flashed them.

“Okay, cmon Claire, roll something good, so we can continue to kick Six’s ass.”  

Six-pointed at you in accusation. “That’s cheating. No double teaming.”

You shook your head slowly, “I’m just trying to give her some encouragement.”

Claire was dramatically shaking the dice in between her two palms. She paused to blow into the pocket before letting the dice loose. She rolled a 6 and landed herself in jail.

“Well, isn’t that ironic,” Six grunted.

Claire ruefully smiled at him, and you grabbed one of his feet between your own under the table in an attempt to lull the pain you know raged under the surface.

You tried to bring the light energy back. “Irony is all about perception. I like the name Six, it rolls off the tongue nicely. And it’s an even number that's the best kind.”

Six shot you an incredulous look. “Really? That’s what you have to say? That even numbers are the best?”

You just shrugged innocently and reached across the table to peck his cheek.

Claire snorted, humor-laced all across her features. “I mean, Six couldn’t have been your given name, right?”

Game nights were always the best. It was a time when you and Claire and Six could be all together. It was always when you saw Six the most relaxed. He talked more, laughed more. But you knew Claire’s curious question would have him retreating back into his shell.

Six’s face hardened into its normal edginess. He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders at Claire. “Yeah, I guess.”

Claire cocked her head and wiggled her fingers at Six eerily. “Gonna share what it is?”

You wanted to intervene, to try and change the subject, but when you opened your mouth, Six sent you a look that had you closing your mouth.

He averted his gaze down to his Monopoly money, which only consisted of a few 10s and 50s, and then looked back up to Claire. His face was earnest but closed off when he revealed, “It’s Courtland. That’s my name.”

You couldn’t help the surprised look your face formed into. You hadn’t even known what it was until now.

Claire’s nose scrunched up in distaste. “That sounds like a street name. First 6 and now a street name. What’s up with that?”

You froze up a bit, waiting for Six’s reaction. You expected him to shrug it off and remain stoic, but the laughter that bubbled out of his mouth had you taken aback even more than you already were.

Six smiled, it was gentle with a hint of strength hidden behind it. “Yeah, it kinda does sound like a street name.”

Claire reached out and patted his hand, “I’m gonna stick with Six. At least that one sounds badass.”

His relationship with Claire warmed your heart. This man who’d been through literal hell and back had the softest spot for this young girl.

Six nodded at Claire, “Sounds good.” His eyes swung back to you next, searching for your reaction.

You eagerly got out of your seat and slipped into Six’s lap. “Courtland, huh?” You leaned into him til the tips of your noses touched. “I think I like that.”

Six’s eyebrows twitched upwards, and the corner of his mouth hitched up higher. “Yeah?”

You kissed his cheek and pulled away to let your eyes communicate what you couldn’t say in front of Claire, that you really fucking loved him. “Yeah, I really do.”

Claire rolled her eyes and popped your shared bubble by waving her hands in the air, making gagging noises. “Okay. Okay, enough. God, innocent, impressionable eyes over here.”

You turned away from Six to shoot Claire a not-so-apologetic glance, but before you could, Claire was reaching under the table and picking up a few scattered 500 Monopoly money.

She gasped audibly and sent you both wild eyes, “It was both of you! You cheaters!”

Claire dramatically jumped out of her seat and flipped the game board lightly onto the floor.

“Hey!” You protested, but Claire was already heading off to her room with a shake of her head and a suppressed grin trying not to form across her face.

Six nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. “That was out of character,” he mumbled.

You narrow your eyes. “You did that last week when we were playing SORRY. I think I know where she gets it.”

Six gave you his best innocent look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh, sure you don’t.”  You turned to fully face him, and finally, let your mouth mold against his in a heated kiss.

[hederasgarden]

Just Pretend

Summary: For a moment, Six thinks about how his life could be different.  Paring: Sierra Six (Court Gentry) x F!Reader Word Count: 700 Rating: 18+ only. Mild violence. Six does watch the reader without her knowledge but it's all above board. A/N: This is based on my thoughts about how Sierra Six would 100% have a housewife kink. Thank you to @a-reader-and-a-writer for looking over this story. 

Masterlist ♡ The Grey Man Masterlist

Six doesn’t mean to watch you. 

He knows it’s wrong, a violation of privacy, but after all the awful things he’s done, it seems small by comparison. Each time he finds his eyes drawn to you he promises himself it’s the last. It’s a lie of course because being stuck in a safe house for weeks on end, there isn’t much else to do. You live in the apartment next to the mark he’s collecting intel on. The blinds to your living room and bedroom are always drawn but he can see clearly into your kitchen where you spend most of your time.

It’s oddly relaxing to see you do mundane things like cooking dinner or baking cookies. You spend your mornings before work reading from your tablet and drinking tea at the little table you’ve wedged under the large window. Sometimes you’ll do the crossword there on Sundays, nose scrunched up as you solve the riddles and pencil in your answer. There’s a row of potted plants on the shelf that you take meticulous care of, watering them and cleaning the dust off their leaves with a damp cloth weekly. 

He loves the cooler days the best when you’ll throw open the window and he can hear the soft music you play and catch the smell of whatever you’re cooking. You’ve been baking more recently, experimenting with decorating cupcakes and cookies. Six admires the concentration it takes to sit, bent over a table to painstakingly create intricate designs for long stretches of time. He imagines you giving treats to your coworkers and friends. He knows they'd taste good, infused with the love and dedication you pour into them.

As far he can tell you don’t have anyone important in your life, at least that lives close by. You’re home every day by 5:30 pm on the dot and on the weekends you only seem to leave for groceries, although he’s seen two different men walk you back to your apartment in the evening. You never kiss or invite them up but you wear pretty sundresses that cling to all the right places on your body. Six is quick to push away that kind of thought. That’s dangerous territory. It’s bad enough he’s spying on you without your knowledge. 

This afternoon it looks like you’re making pasta and homemade bread. His stomach growls at the thought of warm, buttery bread. For a moment he lets himself fantasize what it would be like if he could share a meal with you, to be the person you spent hours cooking for. He likes to think you’d be the type to watch him take the first bite, anxious to see if he liked the new recipe. You’d probably smile and shyly look away when he complimented you, secretly pleased. 

Six thinks about cleaning up after dinner with you, the quiet, comfortable way the two of you would move around the small kitchen together. He'd wash and dry the dishes while you put away the leftovers. Afterward, the two of you would curl up on the couch and watch a movie. Six is willing to bet money you have a collection of soft blankets to burrow under. You'd probably fall asleep before the movie ends, head pillowed against his shoulder, and sleepily protest when he says you should go to bed. 

Before his thought can go further, a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye has him swinging the scope sharply to the right. It's the target, emerging from his apartment for the first time in weeks. The older man yawns and stretches, unaware he's being watched.

Six sighs, and flips open the shitty old Nokia phone he was given for the mission. 

"Target confirmed."

"10-4. Execute. Exfil will be waiting in the south alley," the faceless voice on the other end of the line commands. 

"Understood," Six replies, dropping the phone and grinding it under the heel of his boot. 

Before he can help himself, he looks back at your open kitchen window. You take a sip of wine and bite into a piece of bread, eyes closing with a smile as you savor the taste. His gaze lingers, longer than it should before he forces himself back to the task at hand. 

He takes slow, even breaths and leans his shoulder into the butt of the rifle, squeezing the trigger. The man topples back into the apartment. Below, the street traffic continues, unaware of what just occurred. The urge to look back at you is strong but Six buries it and disassembles his weapon. 

That isn't his life.

 This is and there's no amount of pretending that will change that.

♡

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[danime25]

Jingle All The Way

ao3 // normal masterlist // christmas masterlist

*Summary: Six and his wife take on their first mission as a married couple. Shopping for their beloved daughter Claire

*Content/Tags: Fluff, Couples Taking Things Way Too Seriously, Shopping

*Rating: E for Everyone

*Status: Oneshot/Complete

“So I’m just going to meet up with Jenna and Ashley in the food court. I’ll text you if we go anywhere else.” Claire told her dad

“Okay, love you. We’ll meet back up at 3.” 

“Okay. Love you too.” Claire made a little peace sign with her fingers and made a run for the food court. Meanwhile her father and mother turned around and pulled out a map of the mall that his wife had in her purse

“So we need to hit… Barnes and Nobles for those books Claire likes.”

“On it.”

“I’ll go to Kohl’s and get some sweaters.”

“Then we take on Gamestop together?” Six asked her, looking up from their pre-planned route

“Then we can go to Sephora.” She nodded, her eyes still fixated on the paper

“What do we need from there?” Six raised an eyebrow

“Well I wanted a perfume…” She started, “You bought it for me already didn’t you?”

“Can’t say, sworn to Santa secrecy.”

“That only applies to Claire.” She huffed but shook her head. “Okay, let’s break.”

“Break.” He replied and they went in opposite directions in the mall. He sprinted past people who were on their phones, arguing about what color to buy a toy for their kid. He scooted around teenagers waiting in the mile long line for Starbucks all in an effort to get to the bookstore. The employees gave him a weird look as he dashed into the store from the mall entrance but he made a straight line to the Young Adult section for Claire’s books. He thumbed through the dividers until he found the last name of the author he’d been given by his daughter. There were books written by him that weren’t the one Claire asked for, but he’d definitely seen in her room. Finally, the series seemingly popped out in his line of vision and he grabbed every book from the shelf. He held onto them and carried the stack up to the register. The employees begrudgingly rung the total up for him and he flashed his credit card up against the machine. He flipped through his phone for a second to see where his wife was on the agenda.

“Stuck in line. Sweaters. Go on without me.”

With that, he made a beeline to Gamestop.

---

“Going to…”

“Do you really need to tell your dad everything?” Claire’s friend rolled her eyes as she waited for Claire to finish typing.

“Yes.” She replied, not lifting her eyes up from the screen

“Why?”

“Because… my parents are on a mission.”

“A mission?”

“Yeah.” Claire sighed

“Is that why they’re using maps like weirdos instead of looking up the mall map on their phones?” Claire’s other friend asked

“Yeah.” Claire shook her head, “Mom thought it’d be more fun.”

“Weird.”

“Yeah. I know.”

---

Six had made it to Gamestop when he saw his wife making a run for him. He held his arms out as she basically landed into him

“Hi Honey.” She smiled, “Managed to get out of there with more time than I thought.”

“Good.” He smiled back at her and kissed her, “Ready?”

“Ready.” She replied and let go of her husband. She got in the line to buy a system with a game face on, ready to deck a Karen if it meant getting a system for Claire. Six couldn’t have been more proud of his wife if he had tried. She smiled at him and waved as she waited. He waved back to her and thumbed through the games. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket and he checked it. Claire was moving from the food court towards Kohl’s, which would put her right on their path. He makes a gesture saying that they either needed to buy the system or get out of Gamestop right now when she makes it to the counter. She quickly buys the console and they hide behind the clearance bins as their daughter passes by.

“I don’t think she saw us.” She sighed out of relief

“We should be clear.”

“Anything else we can get here today?” She asked Six. He pulled the map out from his pants pockets and took a quick glance of his notes

“No, we’re good.”

“Okay, you go to the car and get the presents in the trunk. I’ll go run my errand.”

“Okay. Love you.” He gave her a quick peck on the cheek

“Love you too. Whatever you do, don’t move the car. That parking spot is gold.”

“I know.” He nodded as she went off on her own. Six decided that this would be the perfect time to go buy her her gift.

[someplace-darker]

Kinktober Day 1: Floor Sex | Sierra Six x Reader

Pairing: Sierra Six x reader (no y/n)

Wordcount: 1.3k

Warnings: 18+, PWP, floor sex, no protection (wrap it!!!), blood, canon typical violence, reader is afab but no pronouns are used, maybe slight choking?

Summary: After being attacked you and Six find yourselves alone in a safehouse together that has a surprising lack of furniture

A/N: I haven't written in months and i have worked nonstop lately so this is late and a bit rushed! but i hope you like it there is a serious lack of Six fics out here

You’ve never seen shit hit the fan so fast in your entire life, which is saying a lot considering the long track record of carnage you’ve seen in your time on this planet. Quite honestly you think you blacked out during most of it, only catching bits and pieces of what was happening along with the bits and pieces of bad men being splattered across your face. 

It was going to take weeks to get the smell of blood out of your nose, and even longer for the taste. 

You glance to where Six now sits in the corner of the room, leaning against the wall to get a better view out of the window, and you want to push the stray blood crusted hair out of his face. “Does Fitz at least know where we are?” you question, pulling your legs to your chest as if to make yourself smaller to create more room for a conversation. Six wasn’t a very talkative person, you knew this from the months you had spent together. But fuck if you didn’t want to make him speak, make him say something to break the silence that had gone on since the moment he grabbed your hand and tugged you away from the crime. It’s wishful thinking.

“No.”

He seems perfectly collected, body relaxed with his legs stretched out on the carpeted floor, eyes attentively flicking back and forth between the laptop camera feed and the window. The only thing slightly out of place was the brief flicker of his jaw tensing, twice in succession. Six was raised and trained to compartmentalize any overwhelming feeling that he may feel, but the months you’ve spent with him and the time you’ve taken to analyze every movement he makes tells you that despite his demeanor, he’s livid. 

You don’t particularly feel like poking the bear, but you’re scared and covered in blood that (mostly) isn’t yours, so you think you have the right to be curious. Unstretching your legs, you push up and onto your knees so you can hobble closer to him, waddling to his corner of the room so you can sit to his left. “Okay. Does that mean he won’t know it at all?” 

“Maybe.”

He’s fucking exasperating. 

The tension in the room builds with each second that passes, your annoyance and his silence combining into a thick, unswallowable cocktail. You sit like that for the next several minutes, occasionally glancing at him as the sun outside the window sets behind the mountains and the moonlight falls over the walls that surround you. Surprisingly it’s Six who reaches out first, palm finding its place on your thigh, the blood in your cheeks burning hotter when his fingers flex.

“I know you want answers, and the truth is that I don’t know them yet,” he speaks, voice low and focused. It takes a few structured breaths before you can look at him, lifting your head to level with his stare. There’s always been something between the two of you, something unspoken and untouched left to collect dust beneath the surface of whatever facade you had put up. But now that he’s looking at you with a heaviness you haven’t seen from him before, you know it’s different. 

“It’s okay,” you manage to murmur, breath catching when his eyes flit to your mouth and his fingertips press harder into your leg. The leftover adrenaline from the night's events pushes through your veins with a renewed vigor, moving you forward until your mouth meets his, a sharp inhale coming from both of you. 

Part of you wonders if this is how Six’s targets feel. He’s all consuming, plucking every single coherent thought from your head until it’s all him. How his mouth moves against your lips, his hand grips the back of your neck, how he guides you back until your shoulders hit the carpet. There’s a push and pull that has you grinning against the chase of his lips, and you know he can feel it.

No words are spoken as clothes are shed, frantic hands tugging at blood-soaked cloth before his hand slides under your back so you arch, giving his fingers room to undo your bra. You should be put off by the amount of red stains resting on your skin but nothing else seems to matter when Six’s focus turns to the button on his pants as you shimmy your shorts off. 

The dim lighting in the room doesn’t give you the satisfaction of being able to look at him properly, the most of what you can make out is the outline of him as he leans back to toss his jeans, fingers reaching out to skim along the scars that indent his skin. Six seems to freeze at this, struggling to decide between what you assume to be fight or flight. After a moment he grabs your hand, bringing it to his mouth to press a kiss to the skin of your palm, his free hand tugging your body closer to him and readjusting your legs to wrap around his hips.

You can feel his cock against the inside of your thigh, moaning softly when he grabs himself in his hand and repositions to press against your entrance. “Hey,” Six grunts, the control being held in his strained jaw “I need to know that you want this. That you want me.” Shimmying your hips closer, you hum with thinly veiled satisfaction when Six groans, hand planting itself beside your head. “I want this,” you assure, shifting once more “I need you.” 

That’s enough confirmation, and he takes no time pressing into your cunt, something akin to a whimper escaping your lips. You had known that he had to be big, just with the way he carries himself, but fuck this is much better than anything you could’ve prepared yourself for.

Your legs tighten around him as he thrusts into you a few times, gritting his teeth when you clench around him. “Fuck, honey,” Six grunts, leaning down to catch your lips once more. It’s less pretty this time, more knocking of noses and biting of lips, he inhales your gasps as he rocks into you faster, your back scratching against the carpeted floor and it’s so much.

“You make it so fucking hard to stay away from you,” he speaks breathlessly, huffing out a laugh when you cry out his name and dig your nails into his shoulder blades. “Years of training to be indifferent just for you to smile at me and not blink an eye when I have to do my job- jesus christ you’re taking me so well,” you rock your hips up to meet his thrusts, words blinking out of your vocabulary as his cock presses to the most delicious part of you.

Six rolls your nipple between his fingers before dragging them down the middle of your stomach, finally reaching where you need him most when his thumb presses down onto your clit. Pinpricks line your skin, legs trembling “Six, please, please.” 

“C’mon honey, let me see it, want you to feel good,” he groans, leaning back to look at your face when you finally come, gasping as he fucks you through it. All of it is overwhelming, the wave of chills that wrack your body seemingly the closest you’ll ever get to tasting paradise. You can tell that he’s close when his hand presses to your throat and his head drops, fucking into you faster than before but with less rhythm.

“Inside,” you manage to speak, though your voice is hoarse. Six looks at you, searching for some hint of hesitation on your face but finds none. He follows soon after, laying his weight on top of you as he comes with a strangled moan.  You lay like that for what seems like years, collecting your scrambled thoughts and running your nails up and down his back.

“Hey Six?” you say, smiling when his chest rumbles against your own.

“Yeah?”

“We should probably shower.”

He pulls back to glance between your bodies, sweat covered and bruised with some hints of blood “duly noted.”

[holy-minseok]

Me doing my daily rounds of praising writers for dropping my jaw with their fics <3

make sure y’all like, reblog, and comment on writers posts. Don’t be afraid to share your thoughts and praise because we gotta keep the backbone of our fandoms running !! ✊🏾

[classickook]

more than a job | sierra six

pairing: courtland gentry (sierra six) x gn!reader

summary: six has been overseeing your safety for a couple of years now, but you’re suddenly wondering if he regrets it and wishes his life was different.

warnings: canon-typical violence, mentions of anxiety, mentions of death, hurt/comfort

word count: 2.1k

a/n: finally watched the gray man and now i’m obsessed with this guy. hopefully i captured his character okay, but i’ll be working on some more fics for him in the future!

six was currently positioned by the window, peeking through the thin gap in the loose curtains of your safe house. he was silent, calculating, observant. it was no surprise to you as this was his typical behavior since he had been assigned to guard you after your father’s passing, but something about the noticeable tension in his broad shoulders felt different.

“six? what’s going on?” you asked, feeling your pulse flutter in your throat.

he slowly reached for the gun strapped to his belt and stepped closer, offering you a brief glance before it jumped back to the window and then to the front door. both were as securely locked as they were the last five times he had checked, but six was on high alert and had apparently deemed your surroundings as unsafe by some outside threat.

he put a strong hand your shoulder and you could feel the intense heat of his skin through your shirt as he ushered you out the back door. “we need to get out of here.”

“what—”

“go,” he said firmly, steely blue eyes flashing in warning.

obediently, you rushed out the door and felt him follow closely, gun arm raised behind him as the other stayed glued to your shoulder, guiding you through the dense woods just outside the safe house.

“who is that?” you whispered.

he shot you a silencing glare and you bit down on your tongue, understanding that this really wasn’t the time or place for questions; you would ask later.

six signaled ahead to a copse of trees and you swiftly stepped toward it, avoiding tripping over any stones or snapping fallen branches that would give away your location.

once hidden from view, six backed you into a tree trunk and covered you with his large form, his broad back facing you as he surveyed the area with his gun still raised ahead.

“six—” you started again as softly as you could muster, his name passing your lips on a faint breath that was swept up with the wind, but it must have been too loud for his liking as he held up a hand to silence you.

he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you to his side, lowering his mouth to your ear. the heat of his breath warmed your chilled skin from the brisk air of the woods. “you see that hill up ahead?” you nodded. “just past it is another safe house, a bit larger and sturdier. when i say go, you need to run up there as fast as you possibly can, understand?”

he noticed the question forming on your lips and shushed you with a brisk shake of his head. “there are three men who have been following us and discovered our location. we need to move ahead before they catch on.” his blue eyes flitted back and forth between yours while still keeping his ears perked at any sudden noise. you could always tell when his attention was split by the way his eyes flickered with a faraway look, turning darker, sharper, and his brows pinched just enough to notice.

“when i say go,” he repeated, annunciating each word as he went, “you run like hell. i’ll take care of the men here and catch up to you. do you understand me?”

you nodded quickly, suddenly feeling the severity of the situation and feeling a twinge of anxiety settle in your stomach.

“good.” he faced forward again and took a single step forward until a branch snapped up ahead and he shifted into action. “go!” he bellowed and you raced off to the hill, dodging around trees and crunching onto scattered leaves and sticks that littered the forest floor.

your heart pounded against your ribcage and the cool air choked the breath from your lungs. this wasn’t the first time you had been on the run and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but it never got easier.

gunshots rang out from behind you, one right after another in quick succession, and you practically felt it vibrate through your boots as you ran. birds squawked as the deafening noise disrupted their nests and then the air was filled with chaos and bullets.

you spotted the safe house up ahead, bolting for the front door as shouts sounded from somewhere in the woods. without wasting any more time, you shouldered the door open and then slammed it closed, locking it soundly before hiding beneath the windowsill as you waited for six to join you.

silence and dust filled the air within the safe house, and you had never felt so alone than you did in that moment. your heart thundered as you tried to catch your breath, worried that this would be the moment that six lost, that he would be gone forever and leave you here.

you closed your eyes as tears pricked the corners and you tried to calm yourself down, you really did, but the day had been so chaotic and overwhelming that it all came crashing down on you.

you weren’t sure how long you stayed curled up by the window when you suddenly heard the familiar patterned knock that six had taught you, the one that only he used to let you know it was him.

shooting to your feet, you unlocked the door and shoved it open to see six standing at the threshold, chest heaving and sweat-slicked strands of blond hair sticking to his forehead.

you jumped forward and threw your arms around his waist, relief flooding through your system at seeing him again.

“i thought—i thought that—”

he returned your embrace and ran a hand through your hair as he shushed you with comforting words. “i’m here now. it’s okay. they’re gone. you’re safe.”

six walked you further into the house and attempted to settle you onto the lumpy couch, but you had questions—questions that had been on the tip of your tongue since the two of you first ran off from earlier in the day.

“who were those guys? how did they find us? did my father really have that many enemies? i mean, where did they come from? how did he know them and—”

“it wasn’t because of your father this time,” he interrupted.

your brows knitted in confusion. “what do you mean? i thought that’s why you were assigned to me, i thought—”

“it was because of me, okay? you’re a liability for me,” he blurted out.

you froze, eyes wide and heart caught in your throat. on the one hand, being a liability indicated that you were valuable, that you meant something to him; on the other hand, however, a liability was burdening, suffocating, someone or something that weighed a person down. were you doing that to six? were you weighing him down, holding him back? were you just another job to him?

of course you were, you thought pathetically. he had been assigned to guard you just a couple of years prior and had always taken the task seriously, never questioning anything or perceiving you as a chore, never once condescending or mean. but maybe that had changed without your knowledge, maybe he had hidden his true feelings toward you and this job until it got to be too much. you were too much.

you thought back to the first time the two of you had met, just days after your father’s murder and you were still grieving, though you had your own way of showing it.

“who the hell are you?” you had asked shortly.

“six.”

“six like the number? what, was one through five taken?” you had snorted at the joke.

“yes,” he had replied simply.

“oh.”

“any other questions?”

“not currently, no.”

he had given a brisk nod before turning on his heel. “good, then let’s get going.”

you always joked too much and teased him relentlessly, making light of the tragedy that was your life now: no living relatives, always on the run from your father’s never-ending list of enemies.

maybe six had finally had enough and he was going to leave you just like everyone else in your life had.

you swallowed past the lump in your throat as he continued, answering your silent questions while momentarily glancing between you and the wall like it was difficult for him to look at you for too long.

“there are people out there who will hurt you to get to me, do you understand that?” he paused, and you realized that it wasn’t just a rhetorical question and he was waiting for you to acknowledge the severity of his situation. you nodded your assent, nothing more than a slight tilt to your chin but he took it for what it was.

“i am a cog in this corrupt machine of a world we live in and it is my responsibility to keep you safe, to make sure none of that ugliness touches you. i won’t let anyone hurt you, okay?” he said lowly, tone a soft velvet against your ears, “but you have to work with me here, y/n. you have to do as i say when i say it, or—” he cut himself off and you noticed the tick of his jaw before he finished, deathly quiet, “or i might lose you, and i can’t lose you.”

you stared wide-eyed, words dying in your throat as his speech came to an end. you had thought he was going to abandon you, leave you to fend for yourself in this safe house in the middle of nowhere, not express how much he cared for you.

“this is where you say something, y/n,” he muttered, gaze softening.

“i’m not sure i know what to say…” you bit your lip then continued, “i thought you were going to get rid of me.”

“‘get rid of you’? why would i do that?” he asked with genuine confusion.

“i just thought—i thought maybe you had gotten sick of me. that i was too complicated of a job and you wanted out.”

you noticed the steady rise and fall of his chest falter as realization settled over him. six took a cautious step forward, then another and another until he was standing a hairsbreadth away from you. his hand lifted to brush lightly along your cheek, softer and gentler than you would have ever expected from the man.

“you’re not just a job to me, y/n, and i’m far from being sick of you. why do you think i’ve stuck around this long, hm?” he asked quietly, a slight curve to his lips. “i stayed because i like you. you make me laugh and distract me from my demons and change my entire outlook on life. sure, we were both dealt a pretty shitty hand, yeah?” you snorted in agreement and his thumb swiped across your bottom lip, gently tugging on the cushion of it. “you make my life worth living, make it not so bad. i need you… probably more than you need me.”

“i sincerely doubt that,” you whispered. “i’d be dead without you. literally.”

he breathed out a laugh. “yeah, well, life wouldn’t really be sunshine and rainbows without you either, sweetheart.”

your cheeks flamed at the endearment, loving how it sounded coming from him, the velvety baritone of his voice warming you from the inside out.

“so, if it’s all right with you,” he said softly, “i’d like to stick around. how about it?”

you smiled, feeling his thumb pulling from where it still rested on your lip. you nipped it gently and giggled at his reaction. “i’d like that a lot.”

“good, ‘cause i’m not going anywhere. not without you.”

“good.”

his lips lowered to your forehead as he placed a soft kiss there. “what do you say we change out of these clothes? get some food in you, hm?”

you peered down at your muddy boots and tattered shirt, thanks to the jagged branches that had caught and snagged at your clothing as you raced through the woods. “yeah, that would probably be best.”

his lips quirked up into a smile. “there’s a stash in the bedroom over there. grab whatever you can find and i’ll see what kind of canned epicurean delight i’ve got in the cupboards.”

you rolled your eyes at his playfulness, relishing in this brief moment of peace between the two of you. “thanks, six,” you said quietly.

“courtland.”

“what?”

“my real name is courtland,” he replied, almost sheepish. “just thought it was time i finally told you.”

a grin stretched across your face at his honesty, at this little glimpse into his true self that he was sharing with you, deeming you worthy enough to receive it—to receive him.

“thank you for trusting me with it… courtland.”

[anitalenia]

━━ 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

⋆˙⟡♡ 𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐒. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

RATINGS — s , smut | f , fluff | a , angst | d , dark content

none yet…

⋆˙⟡♡ 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

˖⁺ ⊹୨ I want it all ୧⊹ ⁺˖ ( s ) ━━ lloyd and six wanting you to have their kids. ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

˖⁺ ⊹୨ fuschia ୧⊹ ⁺˖ ( s-ish, f ) ━━ six ignoring your obvious crush on him. ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

⋆˙⟡♡ 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

none yet…

none yet…

[listenbuckaroo]

Silent Alarm || Courtland Gentry (Sierra Six) x Reader

Warnings: gore, violence, blood, hospitals, affectionate names?

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: Six has a hard time when his safety precautions still end up with someone hurt.

a/n: please be nice, this is quite literally the first thing i have publicly shared in 10 years. 

When Six installed the silent alarms in the bedrooms in your house you looked at him like he was utterly insane. Your dad’s house was so far out of reach and isolated you thought he had gotten lost when he was taking you there for the first time. But then again you also thought having a bodyguard for you and your cousin Claire was over the limit to begin with yet Six had been living with you for over a year now. 

His stoic demeanor made you uncomfortable at first, he didn’t say much to you or Claire for a few months. He made laps around the house and stood sentry outside your doors at night, and sooner than you thought Claire made him a lifelong friend. They discussed music and sweets, her choice being cakes and Six’s being any and all flavors of gum. 

Being the more reserved of the two, talking to Six wasn’t something that you did unless you needed something. Keeping the talking to a minimum was something that you did well for a few months, the quiet man that lived in your house with you eventually learned to get along with you. His subtle glances at you also didn’t go unnoticed by you or Claire, who often got tired early in the evening leaving you and Six alone in the common areas of the house. 

“I just had a really long day..” She would trail off giving you a hug and skipping down the hallway to her room. 

It took Six a long time to carry on a conversation with you. After Claire would leave the two of you alone he would often sit on the couch (far at the opposite end away from you) and watch all of the cheesy medical dramas that you watched after your cousin would go to bed at night. They made you laugh at the absurdity of them at times and one particular night you could have sworn Six also laughed at something that happened but you may never know. 

That quickly became a nightly ritual, Claire going to bed early and you and Six watching the most absurd shows you could find. Having his presence near you alway made you feel better and eventually it felt like a security blanket. A month after you started watching things together Six began to sit closer to you on the couch, and before long you were only one cushion away from each other most days. 

But none of that mattered now. As the red light of the silent alarm blinked silently in your face the sense of safety vanished letting panic and fear settle into their normal resting spots. You grabbed the metal baseball bat from under your bed and turned the light off, treading as silently as one can across the wooden floors.

The door to Claire's room was open, meaning she had woken up and got to the safe room before you, or something terrible had happened. Glancing both directions and listening for footsteps, you made your way to your cousin's room and shut the door behind you. Slipping inside you checked her hiding spots, under the bed and the closet. With no sign of her you made you release a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

Raising your bat again you started making your way to the safe room. Sneaking towards the door you heard a shuffle and boots from the adjacent hallway. Gripping the bat the way Six showed you to you kept to the wall and tried to get the upper hand on whomever would round the corner. 

It did not go to plan.

The first intruder went down quickly with a swift smack on the head, however, you didn’t anticipate for his buddy to be so close behind. Once the first body had fallen, your only weapon was wrenched from your hands. The man stopped for a swift second to look at you before going after you with a knife. The yelp of surprise you released was totally unplanned but nevertheless gave you away to anyone else that may be in the house. 

Running through the halls you tried to get the man away from Claire, even if she was in the safe room your only thought was to keep her as safe as possible. Glancing back to see how close he was cost you precious moments when the body you slammed to around the corner of the kitchen was not Six. He towered over you and you let out the smallest whimper of panic. The adrenaline coursing through your veins made it difficult to register that the man chasing you had caught up and lunged at his prey.

“The one we’re looking for is smaller. She’s too tall.” The tree trunk you ran into muttered as he pushed you aside. 

A shaky hand lifted to try to cover your stomach, you didn’t know how your intestines weren’t on the floor right now, but a good chunk of your blood was. The man chasing you had managed to knick you, and by knick you mean slice open your chest from your chest to the side of your ribcage. 

The coppery taste you had never tasted before except when you fell off your bike as a kid slowly crept into your mouth. Grabbing your side you felt the bones of your ribcage through your shirt. The blood began pouring through your shirt as you tried to follow the men out of the kitchen. Two silenced gunshots erupted in front of you as the two bodies hit the floor.

“Six..” You called as you tried to make your way down the hallway. 

Stumbling and grabbing the wall you shuffled towards the safe room. The wound on your chest was gushing blood all over your shirt. You heard the familiar footsteps in front of you picking up pace as your knees started to give out. 

“Y/N? Jesus Christ what happened to you?” He said as he grabbed you before you hit the floor. 

“Six, oh god everything hurts so bad. Why is there so much blood?” You mumbled as you tried to grab onto him but the blood made it difficult to get a grip on anything that would be helpful. 

“Fucking shit.” He breathed out “Cmon, I can’t fix this.” He picked you up carrying you to the end of the hall where the safe room was hidden in the wall.

The door hissed open. Claire's scared shouts were followed by her panicked voice asking Six what to do. 

“Call your uncle and get in the car, we have to leave now.” He said your head lulling against his shoulder.

The fear and panic began to outweigh the pain, your heart was beating faster and you couldn’t take a breath. Gripping his arm you tried to tell Six something was wrong but you could only stare at him like a scared animal. He noticed you weren’t breathing and immediately started making his way towards the car. 

“Hey princess,” he whispered into your hair as he laid you down in the back seat “take a breath, you’re going to shock, there was an edge to his voice you hadn’t heard before and it made you worry.

Breathing started to feel like a job as soon as his words hit you. Six was all you could see so that's what you tried to focus on. No matter how much pressure he was placing on your stomach the corners of your eyes started turning black and fuzzy. 

“Y/N.. Hey no no no, come on honey…” Six said, but you couldn’t hear the rest.

Losing all that blood had made you light headed and weak, even with Six’s coaxing you couldn’t come back around and the darkness swallowed you. 

—

Claire’s POV - 

“I DON’T KNOW HE JUST TOLD ME TO CALL YOU!!” She yelled into the phone as she hung up and sprinted to the car. 

Six was laying over Y/N’s body in the back seat shaking her head and trying to cover the gaping wound on her chest.

“Six what happened??” Claire called as she got to the car.

“Look, do you see what I’m doing?” He questioned gesturing to Y/N chest where it looked like he was putting his full body weight on top of her, “You have to keep pressure on this while I drive okay?” 

When he turned around finally Claire was shocked. The tears in his eyes were a dead give away to the true panic he was experiencing right now. His job was to protect her and Y/N and he couldn’t do that tonight. Claire paused for a moment before nodding and quickly switching places with Six so Y/N didn’t lose more blood. 

The ride to the nearest hospital was quick with Six weaving in and out of traffic like it was a game. Claire struggled to keep her footing but successfully did her traumatizing job just like Six had asked. He didn’t even bother parking when they got to the hospital, he pulled the keys from the ignition and grabbed Y/N from the back seat and barged into the ER doors. 

“I need a doctor please, my wife needs help.” He yelled as he made his grand entrance. 

Claire followed close behind and nearly stumbled when Six referred to Y/N as his wife. Quizatically looking at him she made no mention as they continued straight to a room with a doctor waiting. She waited outside so that she didn't have to see anymore blood for the night and nearly fell asleep in the chairs waiting outside the room. 

Her uncle showed up 30 minutes later looking quite scared, another emotion she had seen from the other man in her life for the second time tonight. He wrapped her in a huge hug as she tried not to cry into his shoulder. He picked her up and took her into the room where the doctors and nurses had finished their work. 

Y/N looked peaceful, much different to the panicked look she had seen from her only a few hours prior. Six stood to the side and made his way towards the door to stand watch as Fitzroy and Claire stayed with Y/N. Claire saw the concern on Six’s face as he made his way past them but made no mention of it to Six or her uncle.

—

Your eyes fluttered open to the sunlight to your left. Realizing you were not in the comfort of your own bed she looked around quickly trying to understand where on earth she was. Sitting up should not have caused as much pain as it did, and then you remembered the previous night's events. 

Panicking to the idea that you could have died you looked around the room for a familiar face. Six’s eyes connected with yours from outside the room and widened. He burst through the door and was immediately at your side, once again trying to calm you down. 

“Heya honey, everything’s fine. Blow some air out, you're fine. There ya go..” He continued with his words of encouragement until your breathing returned to normal.

“How long have I been asleep?” you asked, clutching the blanket that had been draped over you.

“Oh not long, just a good 17 hours.” he chuckled, smiling at you through sleepy eyes.

“And how long has it been since you slept?” you said, squinting your eyes at him, knowing it would be way too long for a human, even a Sierra to go without sleeping. 

He let out a huff of air and went to stand up and leave. Grabbing his arm as he stood he looked at you confused, as if he wouldn’t know that the person he was assigned to protect would be nervous to see him walk away on little sleep. 

“You can sit in the chair here and keep me company?” you suggested as his eye glanced between the comfy chair and you.

“Just till you fall asleep.” he mumbled and plopped down.

“Thank you Six,” you said, grabbing his arm, “Really thank you for everything.”

He nodded before giving your hand a squeeze and muttering something about going back to sleep. Laying on your back you slid closer to the right side of the bed so Six would be closer if anything happened. Not that it would, you just needed his reassuring presence near you, keeping the worry at bay in your mind. 

When you woke again, the moon had decided to show its face and peek through the curtains that someone had closed that evening. Moving your head to the chair where Six had been previously you were a bit surprised to not see him standing guard after you dozed off. 

Something soft under your hand caught your attention before you could call for someone to ask where anyone you might know was at. Looking over, Six had fallen asleep, hard. His head now rested on your thigh and his body was still planted firmly in the chair you had asked him to sit in a few hours prior. 

Subconsciously while sleeping, your hand had made its way to his head and now rested on his soft hair. Grinning from ear to ear you had never felt more safe, even if someone had just sliced you open. Careful not to readjust yourself you shut your eyes again so as to not wake the sleepy body guard on your leg.

[heresthestorymorningglory]

Just Another Thursday...

Summary: Lloyd Hansen's a dick.

A/N: Listen y'all this NSFW 18+ should be par for the course at this point. So like….just don’t okay?

As always, the inspo is thanks to the Goosecord and my beautiful partner in crime @ken-dom who constantly receives messages from me in the dead of night needing reassurance or “Hey what about if THIS happened?!”

Bless you my new found chosen sister for putting up with my antics! (Yes I copy pasted, yes it's still valid don't come for me)

This latest part is a little stabby so please my duckies, proceed with caution

This is a continuation of what I've affectionately titled the Nurse Series, read previous parts 'Hello Nurse' and 'Unfinished Business' here.

Like I said last time, this won’t be the last you see of SIx

Enjoy my loves! <3

@odessa-is-my-queen you asked for a tag <3

You groaned, head throbbing as you blinked the blur out of your eyes, the dim room coming into focus. 

“There she is” the unfamiliar voice reminding you of your very unpleasant encounter before you were knocked unconscious. 

You were bound to a chair, both hands and feet; in some sort of dingy warehouse with flickering fluorescent lights. 

You tried to fight past the throbbing headache to figure out an escape plan. Six was gone, he had no idea where you were or how to find you. You were on your own. You were on the wrong end of this transaction and that terrified you. Six had never told you the whole story, but he had told you enough; this man was capable of murder. 

“A dirty warehouse basement is a little cliche don’t you think?” You asked softly with your head dropped, you were trying to avoid making eye contact with him. 

That plan had been short lived as Lloyd grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back, forcing you to look up at him. 

“God,” you winced “At least buy me dinner first” 

Lloyd scoffed with amusement “She’s witty” he quipped to the dark figure standing in the corner not speaking 

You took a deep breath in through your nose “What do you want Lloyd?” 

He didn’t answer, instead, he struck you hard across the side of your face, the heavy ring on his pinky splitting skin. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, biting the inside of your cheek. If you had learned anything from Six’s incessant teachings “just in case” it was to keep your mouth shut. You had reassured him again and again nothing would ever happen, but he had insisted, and you complied…he was never going to leave you alone again.  

“Where did you send him?” you asked as he circled around the front of the chair you were sitting in, letting go of the hold he had on your hair. You kept your eyes forward, but off of him. 

He pulled a chair over in front of you, letting it scrape across the dirty cement before sitting down. 

“Oh honey, he should be the last of your worries…” he clicked his tongue in disapproval. 

“Where” you repeated 

“On a wild goose chase”  he answered, tipping his head, forcing your eyes to meet his “I owed him one” 

“He’s too smart for that” you muttered, knowing you were grasping at straws and only hoping you were right, praying he wouldn’t just run off halfway around the world without at least giving it a second thought. 

“Surprised he left you all alone,” Lloyd continued “Unprotected” 

“I can handle myself” 

This made him laugh out loud, he threw his head back, hand resting on his stomach. “Can you?!”  His voice a little too cheery at the concept He leaned forward in his chair, hands clasped together between his knees “I’d like to test that theory” 

Another hard backhand across your other cheek made your head snap harshly, making you bite your tongue. 

You had no way out, there were at least four other men scattered around the room, bigger than Lloyd, probably told to shoot first and ask questions later. Even if you could get out of your impossibly tight bounds you didn’t stand a chance. The zip ties bite into the skin of your wrists and ankles as your joints move, testing them. 

You just had to hope you could survive long enough to tire him out. 

“What’s the matter Lloyd?” you asked, eyes meeting his in a challenge “Some girl tell you that mustache makes you look like a pedophile?” 

You knew taunting him wasn’t the smartest idea, he was very obviously a loose cannon, but if beating your face bloody was the worst he was going to do, you could manage. 

As if to prove your point, the heel of his hand made contact with the bridge of your nose, eliciting a loud crunch as the bone broke on impact, causing blood to pour from your nose like a faucet. 

You saw stars briefly as he got to his feet. “Don’t worry, cupcake, I’ll make sure you’re nice and recognizable when he finds you back at home in a dead heap on the porch” 

As he spoke, he pulled a switchblade from his pocket and your heart slammed in your chest. You didn’t know how long you had been gone, how long you had been here, or how long it would be before he caused enough bodily harm for you to start to really panic. 

Lucky for you, Lloyd was big on the grandstanding; especially when he knew you weren’t going anywhere. 

“Wouldn’t that be something?” Lloyd asked as he sat back down in his chair “I could give us matching wounds” he held up his hand and you realized he had been missing two fingers.

You said nothing, trying to breathe through the pain of your broken nose as he continued; taking a hammer from one of his minions. 

“Did he tell you about Prague?” He asked, rocking the hammer back and forth between his hands.

“You mean did he tell me about how you killed Don Fitzroy?” you asked, “Yes, he told me”

“Would have killed him too” he muttered 

You scoffed with a laugh “You could certainly try” 

“Thought for sure he’d bleed out in that damn fountain” 

You frowned with a realization; Lloyd had been the reason Six had shown up on your doorstep that night. 

As your mind processed the fact, you felt Lloyd’s hand close around your bound wrist, not really realizing what he was doing until it was too late. One swift swing and the hammer came down hard on two of your fingers, fragile bones, crunching against steel as they separated. 

You groaned, mindful not to scream, chin tucked into your chest as your eyes squeezed shut as long as your broken nose would allow. Tears stinging your eyes as you looked back up, Lloyd very obviously pleased with himself. 

“That was you.” you said simply, breathing through the screaming ache “So that’s what this is” you nodded understanding 

“What?” Lloyd scoffed pacing in front of you “Don’t pretend like you know what this is” 

You laughed as much as your pain would allow “It’s revenge, because he kicked your shit in and did a better job at it” 

You watched as he set the hammer down, picking back up the switchblade. “It all makes sense now,” you said, your voice low  “You know you can’t beat him, you tried and you failed, so why not go after someone smaller?” 

“Think you’ve got me all figured out huh?” He asked, pressing the tip of the cool steel against your collarbone. 

You rolled your eyes “You’re not that complex Lloyd, you’re pathetic” 

You winced, feeling the blade pierce your skin as he sliced across your shoulder. “Hmm” You groaned as you took in a deep breath through clenched teeth, dropping your head for a beat before chuckling softly leaning back in your chair “He is gonna tear you apart” 

“You keep saying that, and yet…” 

His hand came down swiftly, blade of the knife burying itself in your thigh; that scream you’d fought so hard to hold back ringing through the room as you threw your head back trying to breathe. Lloyd laughed appreciatively next to you as he pulled the blade back out making you gasp trying to find your breath. 

“He’ll be here” you whispered, swallowing hard; trying to convince yourself more than Lloyd at this point. 

“Oh, I’m counting on it”

This time the blade buried itself deep in your shoulder, again making you cry out against your will as he pulled it free.

This carried on for what felt like an eternity, stab after stab, slice after slice.

He stopped to give himself a break, your breathing was shaky and shallow as you tried to calm yourself down, slow your heart rate, keep the blood from pumping too hard.

The next two…maybe three? Sliced your ribcage and you had given up on keeping your composure, your head hung as you cried, tears dripping off the end of your nose. 

“That would be serendipitous wouldn't it, killing you both with the same knife?” Lloyd’s voice was cool and measured over your head "Had enough?"

You ran your tongue between your lips, swallowing hard before he jerked your head up; you just glared at him

“Well?” he asked 

You were fighting to keep from passing out, you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction if you could help it. 

“Go fuck yourself” you whispered, your eyes slipping closed. 

“I don’t see boy wonder anywhere” Lloyd quipped “Maybe he decided you’re just not worth it after all” 

You didn’t answer, just focused on your breathing. Now you had an idea of how Six must have felt that night he stumbled through the front door. How he had managed it you’ll never understand. 

A commotion outside caught Lloyd’s attention and he leaned over the back of the chair next to your ear “Ohh, maybe I spoke too soon hmm?”

You hoped against all hope. 

“Let's give him a show, shall we?”

Lloyd buried the tip of his finger into one of the gashes on your arm, making you scream in pain. 

The gunfire rang off the walls as someone got closer. 

Lloyd stayed behind you, using your body as a shield. 

The last of his minions dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes as Six appeared in the doorway. 

“Thank God” you whispered, letting yourself relax as much as you could. Your eyes met his across the room, you could only imagine what you looked like, but his composure didn’t falter. 

“And here he comes to save the day” Lloyd sneered. “It's about time you got here…almost cut your girl to pieces”

“I told you he would kill you” you whispered letting your head drop, feeling dizzy. 

“Let her go, Lloyd, this has nothing to do with her” 

“Put the gun down and I'll consider it”

Their voices sounded muffled and far away as you tried to fight to stay awake. 

A sharp stab in your thigh as Lloyd buried the knife there and left it as he walked around the chair. 

“Hold on to that for me would ya?”

All you could do was scream in pain, tears streaming freely down your cheeks before you slipped away.

[dindjiarin]

Six Days, Part II - (Sierra Six x F!Reader)

I wrote this because ✨️Six deserves a lil more than a kiss✨️ 😌 I read the first The Gray Man book, and some characterization is based on it, but mostly this is movie-based. Let's pretend Lloyd Hansen survived his ordeal, shall we?

A/N: I had not yet read Ballistic (Book 3 of The Gray Man series) before writing this so the unintended similarity between Ch 36 and my work here was unintentional. I'm gratified to know Court Gentry so well lmfao. 💀 My bad, Mr. Greaney.

Lil Spotify playlist I listened to while feverishly typing. (Wipe Your Eyes is a Sierra Six song, I said what I said.)

Beginning / Ending / Prequel

TAGS: Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Six x F!Reader

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI 18+, sexual content, mention of rape (rape is not threatened nor occurs), drugging, blood/wounds/death.

WORD COUNT: 8.6k (yeah, I'm REALLY sorry)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

IIII

The room is dim when you wake. It can’t be later than six o’clock, but the bed is empty, cold where he should be. The bedsheets rustle as you twist to read the green-lit clock on the bookshelf. Your face ticks in confusion at the numbers spelling out 9:09 a.m.

Must be a cloudy morning. Too bad I can’t see out this fucking frosted window, you grumble internally.

Sitting up, you pull the sheet a little tighter to your naked chest and squint at the bathroom door, bringing it into focus despite your sleep-laden eyes. It seems completely closed, but if Six is in there, he’s unusually quiet. 

You drop the sheet and leave the bed, looking for your clothes on the floor. On Six’s chair, a pile of material catches your eye. Your hand trails across the folded, new clothing; you pick up the top item, the tags still attached. A smile splits your face in two. He’d laid out a pair of plain white underwear, denim shorts, and a green t-shirt. You quickly locate your old bra and underwear and throw away the bottoms. You’re too uncomfortable without the support of a bra, so you put it back on despite its desperate need of a wash. 

Once clothed, you knock on the bathroom door but it swings open with the contact. It’s dark and unoccupied. A sudden wave of fear hits you and you take a step back. 

Where's Six? 

Irrationally, your mind taunts you: Did he leave me? Get what he wanted and cut his losses? A small sound escapes you at the intrusive thought, but you remember the way he had held you all night, the gentle yearning of his touch, the devotion in his sapphire eyes. You silence the unhelpful worries. No way. That’s not him.

Shit, shit, did something happen? Oh, my god, I hope he’s okay. The fears cycle through your mind. He’d never left without telling you before. Not back at the original safe house, not here, not ever. Unease settles in your chest like a virus.

It was evident he had left and come back this morning to bring you new clothing, but where was he now? You move into the bathroom, quickly flipping on the light to try to dispel some of the dread. You drop to your knees and begin feeling around the floor as grime and dirt pile along your fingertips. 

Oh, god, I bet it’s under this disgusting-ass flooring. 

You lean left to grip the rough edge of the linoleum where it lies underneath the sink. Pulling at the aged material, it comes up easily enough, and you’re rewarded by a discolored section of hardwood floor. The linoleum slips from your dirty fingers, and as you reach to grab it again, a loud crash booms behind you. 

The front door bangs open. You spin around, knocking yourself on your ass. Your heart fears it’s an intruder, but your brain expects it to be Six, mad at you for not hearing his knock. 

As the door swings wide, you’re faced with an unfamiliar man, clad in a blue patterned shirt and slacks, standing with a firearm in his right hand. It’s the first thing you see, but it’s not pointed at you. The man looks relaxed - happy, you notice. 

“Hey, doll. Been lookin’ everywhere for ya.” His voice is upbeat yet menacing.

“Whatcha doin’ to that floor?” He marches over to you, roughly grabbing your upper arm.

As his fingers dig into your flesh, you stare at the stumps where his little and ring fingers should be. He hoists you to your feet. You don’t even struggle as your brain tries to play catch-up. 

“Who- the fuck are you?” Your voice trembles despite your efforts to the contrary. Your heart is throbbing, painful aching in your veins; your worst nightmare is coming true.

“You haven’t heard of me?” He sounds surprised. “Well, isn’t that hilarious. Mr. Moral Compass has been keeping secrets from you.” He makes a mockingly sympathetic face.

“Where is he?” Your voice cracks and pain pricks in your eyes, your vision watering. You’re petrified of this man’s answer. 

To your great discomfort, the man laughs. It’s a terrifying laugh: somehow, all of his features seem warmed by his mirth, like he’s energized by your distress.

“That's supposed to be my line, buttercup.”

He makes a condescending gesture, “Someone saw you clomping around this hallway out here. Not very smart, are we? And wherever you are, Six is sure to be trailing like a sad puppy. But I’m not too worried about where he is right now; he’ll follow us, and that saves me quite a bit of effort. Not to mention bullets and bruises.”

It takes a second for his words to find you through the panic, but when they do, you’re nearly lightheaded with relief. You’d thought you managed and processed that first night well. It had given you confidence in your ability to persevere. But standing here, face-to-face with a man who seemed to know things you didn’t, who exuded the dangerous energy of a wild animal, you were frozen in fear. However, if Six was still out there, still okay, you had some hope. You had every hope in the world, in fact.

Six. Six, please. Please walk through that door. All your wits could offer was to repeat his name like a prayer.

“Let’s head on out, shall we? Car’s waiting.”

His grip on your arm tightens painfully, and you still don’t fight him. He steps toward the bed and, with a flourish, places a piece of paper on top of your pillow.

“MapQuest for 007,” he explains without explaining. 

You know you can’t win a physical fight with this much-larger, armed man, but the dam in you breaks as he pulls you toward the exterior hallway. You’re already leaning forward from the way he’s holding you, so you aim at your closest target. Your right fist slams just below the zipper on his slacks and he exhales with a yelp, doubling over. He recovers too quickly, though, and whirls you around, leveraging your throat with his forearm. He squeezes and wins a pained, high-pitched rasp from you.

“Do it again and I’ll leave your dead body for him to find instead of that paper,” he says through gritted teeth. 

You shiver and try to swallow, panicking when you can’t. He loosens his grip enough for you to shuffle along, and when he tries to walk you both through the door a second time, you let him. 

You were right, the sky outside was blanketed by wooly clouds threatening to let loose a deluge. The old city you’d holed up in was quiet for the time of day, and no one saw the well-dressed man toss you into a waiting black SUV. Your cheek smacks the faux-leather gray seat, and you push your arms underneath your body to reorient yourself. 

The air inside the vehicle is artificially cold and smells new. The pleather squeaks as the two armed men who had been waiting outside your room seat themselves on either side of you. You hadn’t seen them until the well-dressed man had dragged you from your shelter out into the sterile-looking hallway. It seemed to you that they were reasonably sure you were alone. There was no way he wouldn't have sent an entire team in if he’d thought the two of you were together, right? This man didn’t dress like it, but maybe he didn’t have the funds for a whole team. Six had mentioned to you once how expensive one mercenary could be, and the going rate for a whole group could feed a small country for a week. 

A thumb and forefinger pinch your nose, and your mouth drops open automatically. Your hands shoot upward to fight off whatever assault is beginning, but then the agent to your left pops something small into the back of your throat. You try to choke it out, but he had thrown it skillfully, and you accidentally swallow. You lurch forward violently as the driver accelerates. 

You gag but nothing comes up. Coughing, you ask, “What'd you give me?”

The kidnapper’s smooth voice answers you from the passenger seat, “The ineloquent call it the ‘date-rape drug’.” 

Utter fear shocks through your body at his blunt words. You’re a chemist, you know exactly what it is he gave you. 

He turns a little to face you, “Sugar, you look nervous. Don’t worry,” his voice is jovial, “This is a date, not a rape.” 

You shrink into your seat as best you can, trying to protect yourself. City blocks quickly turn into dilapidated housing, then farmland since Six’s safe house was close to the outer edge. You don’t know anything about the country you’re in, so memorizing the now-green scenery would be useless. Instead, you decide to evaluate and catalog the men next to you.

The man on your right is tall and tan. With his ironically trustworthy face, you would’ve never given him a second glance if you passed by him on the street. He’s holding what you believe to be a submachine gun, and a pistol butt pokes out of his waistband.

Your friend on the left is his friend’s polar opposite. This man makes you feel like the kidnapper does, and your hands shake just by looking at him out of your peripheral vision. His sharp, pale features keep anger at the forefront. His dark eyes, though rarely on you, twitch with menace. He’s carrying the same weapons as his partner, but you see an added hunting knife hanging from his black cargo pants. Unconsciously, your weight shifts to your right side, trying to put as much distance as you can, though, of course, you know the other man is truly no better.

Heavy exhaustion suddenly falls on you like an anvil. Lethargy places immense pressure on your limbs. Your world goes startlingly black for a second, then you realize you’ve closed your eyelids. You try to lift them, but it’s so difficult. Straining, you see a sliver of blurry light, but your eyes return to darkness. It feels like a weight is pressing on your chest - like Six did last night. Delirious, you half-smile at the recollection. Your head drops to the side with its own weight, and your final conscious thought is that you hope you fell to the right.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Feeling more peaceful than he ever had in his life, Six had woken that morning on his side with your head on his right bicep. You were asleep facing him, your right calf sandwiched between his thighs, your hand curled on his chest. If he didn’t include every other time he looked at you, it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Six felt a sense of possessiveness surge through him; he was never going to let anything take you from him. If you wanted him, he would be there.

Six had never told a woman that he loved her. Certainly not romantically. He wasn’t completely confident in how it all worked, but he no longer wondered what it felt like. Six knew by the way he wanted to care for you as you did him. It was evident in the way he found himself pulling your favorite mug from the cabinet each morning before you’d even woken; it was evident in the way his body thrilled as he counted your not-so-sneaky glances at him. Six knew how powerful love was because he felt all other aspects of his life drop in priority to you. He didn't pretend to be good at it, but he couldn't stop himself from trying.

In a matter of excellent timing, you rolled away, tucking your head down and off his arm. He extricated himself from the bed, intending on performing a quick errand. He was incredibly energized; after yesterday’s long-awaited activities and then the full night’s sleep he’d gotten, he felt sure he could do anything. 

After showering, he located an old, plain black tracksuit set that he’d hidden years ago in the bathroom closet. It wasn’t exactly clean after all this time, but it wasn’t the disgusting shirt and pants from the past few days which was all he cared about.

He thought about leaving a note, but it was so dark outside that he knew you’d still be asleep when he returned. And also, he had no pen. Nimbly, he moved to your side of the bed where he carefully tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his feather-light touch never waking you. You sighed into his hand as it curved down your cheek, and he felt himself twitch at the familiarity. He quickly decided that he’d be keeping you in bed today; his high energy would be put to good use.

Six casually moved out onto the streets of the old world city. It was just past eight-thirty. The air was nice: warm and breezy, hinting at the coming storm. It wasn’t a bustling locale, but its population was large enough to provide some cover. Six’s furtive yet discreet searches around the area told him that all was well, so he trekked through the city to a store he knew supplied women’s clothing. He figured your old clothes were no longer suitable - he himself had torn them off in more ways than one - and he had nothing in his cache that would be practical for a woman. He was still cautious, still calculated. If he needed you to run, you couldn’t be tripping around in too-long pants.

The brightly lit store didn’t have much, so he purchased the first items he saw that best fit the summer weather, making no guesses as to your size since it was something he’d memorized for this exact situation. He thanked the shop clerk in his native tongue, then took a shortcut back to the room. 

He returned as the green numbers glowed exactly 9:00 a.m. to find you still sleeping as he had suspected. He laid the pieces on the chair and then moved to the kitchenette. His jaw set as he realized the food was entirely gone; there wasn’t any substantial meal to be eaten, and canned peaches weren’t going to satisfy the both of you. Grumbling, he took another survey to confirm your slumber, then exited once again, locking the door as he left. 

On his ten-minute jaunt to the corner store, Six felt uneasy. Now he believed the electricity in the air had nothing to do with the impending thunderstorm. He felt the breeze rustle through his blonde locks and tried to relax a little. He had a few - well, he couldn’t call them friends - in this general part of Europe, but only one lived in this area. He hoped the man hadn’t seen him; or you, considering the man might know about the situation. 

He’d run out of cash, and his nearest stash was about a four-hour drive away in Latvia, so he was forced to steal a loaf of bread and two chunks of meat. Six left his not-inexpensive watch as payment, but he regretted being forced to this level. He’d never stolen anything in his life (except the odd vehicle, those almost couldn’t be helped) and he hated it. He was paid well for his services; he never needed to steal. Every bit of decency he could afford, he performed. If you hadn’t been waiting, he would’ve contented himself with the peaches for the next few hours, but you were injured, and moving on to Latvia could wait one more night. 

His walk back from the store was circuitous by habit. He took two extra turns and an alleyway before opening the glass-paned door to the building. The room you two had been sharing was the very first on the ground floor, and something was horribly wrong.

Groceries fell to the floor, replaced instantly by his gun. He swept into the room, then the bathroom, already knowing you weren’t there. A sharp intake of breath sounded as he realized the linoleum had been disrupted. 

Thank God, you’d gotten into the safe room. 

He grunted as he pried open the heavy trapdoor, already beginning to tell you everything was okay, when the dusty hole gaped empty beneath him. The breath heaved out of him. He cursed loudly and slammed the door shut with such force that it reverberated throughout the lower floor. He spun around and his eyes snagged on the paper positioned on the pillow you’d occupied only moments earlier. He snatched it up.

 - Do you miss her like I miss my fingers? -

Below the handwritten taunt was an address. Six needed no further information - he sprinted out of the building and up the street.

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Groggy and unsteady, your left eye opens a little before your right. Warm light streams from a small round window at the other end of the room. It’s dusty, and motes float about in the beams. Your hands chafe at the handcuffs, but the most uncomfortable aspect is the rickety chair you’re roped into. Your shoulders ache and your neck is pained at the position you’d been unconscious in. 

Fear rises in your throat, bubbling like lava in your chest. But it’s mutating with another emotion you’re not sure of just yet. You rock forward violently and shift the old chair forward a little, trying to move toward the window. The impact of your weight rattles the rafters, and you realize that endeavor is hopeless if you want to remain alone. You try to scoot, using your untied feet to pull you along, but the chair catches on a warped floorboard, and you’re left stuck.

Panting from the claustrophobic panic and the exertion, you begin taking some calming breaths you’d read about once for test anxiety. It helps, but then you hear the creaking of hinges as a trapdoor falls away a few feet from you. The ladder slides down smoothly, and moments later the head of a man appears. His fit, sweater-wearing body follows. He glares at you.

“You got bits of ceiling plaster on my sweater.” 

“What’s going on? What do you want me for?”

You expect him to say something about your job, to demand access to the research, to complete some of it yourself; maybe he wants you to oversee a project of their own. You have no idea and you’re not prepared for what he answers.

“I don’t want you at all, honey. Sorry, you’re not my type. I like women who don’t punch me in the dick.” He says testily. “No, I want your boy, and I want him to be sad. I had no idea you existed ‘til a friend snapped a few pictures of the two of you getting cozy.” 

He unfolds three photos from his back pocket. The first is through the large glass backdoor in your original safe house, the telephoto lens capturing Six’s hand nearly touching your lower back, your head turned to smile at him. A second photo was taken from a distance through a window, and it shows Six sitting on the couch beside you, talking. The man holds up a third photo, this one of the two of you outside, Six’s face glows with that reluctant smile he favors, though it's much larger than usual; facing away from you, he looks downright joyous at something you must’ve said or done. 

The emotion you’d had trouble naming finally identifies itself as you spit, “Fuck you.” 

The man backhands you hard enough to split your lip, but he doesn’t knock you over. Tears spring to your eyes instantly, and you yelp. The moment this man had stepped through your door, you’d done your best to prepare yourself for physical pain. You were still surprised, still shocked by it. 

The man crouches in front of you, his eyes level. Your upper lip curls into a snarl.

“I know Sierra Six. That man is a goody-two-shoes. Although, apparently he’s been lying to his lady love. See, I did do my homework: your employer’s security contract with Six ended a month ago. He’s been bunking with you because I sent him those photos the day before termination. If he stayed with you, I knew it was genuine.” He pauses, then jeers, “He doesn’t allow himself to get attached to people.” The man smiles, perfect teeth flashing behind pink lips as he waves the photographs, “But I found the one he has.”

Unable to fully comprehend what’s happening, you just stare. You’d been through quite a few emotions over the past twelve hours and the tumult in your head was raging. Your admittedly hands-off employers had never told you when the protection detail’s contract ended, they probably had just assumed Six would leave of his own accord. The house had been furnished with anything you would’ve needed so you’d kept on working, and your employers kept getting what they paid you for. As long as the status quo remained, no one would’ve questioned each other.

“So, you’ve got me here in this dry-ass attic because you don’t like Sierra Six?” Your confusion manifests with righteous anger. This man is using you, not for your brain, but to get to someone you care about.

He sharply raises his left hand as an example, “I fucking hate him, actually.

“Don’t your manicures cost less now?” You hiss venomously.

Your chair nearly tips when his hand connects once again with your face. You spit out blood, but you’re weak and it lands pitifully on your shirt. 

Your mouth already open, you ask one last question, ”And when Six comes for me… you’ll kill him?” You are still angry, but your worry over Six causes your voice to break.

“All part of the show, babe. I’m not monologuing to you.” He shrugs, smiling as if he wasn’t just monologuing to you. He stands and jogs forward-facing down the ladder. You hear his rich voice say something about a knife, and your body goes rigid. More pain. Your heart rate skyrockets and traitorous tears fall.

Calm down, get calm, I can’t be calm, just be calm, this is insane, deep breaths, it won’t help, you’ll be fine, your thoughts race uncontrollably. 

Stressed wood and hinges ring out from the ladder as he reappears with a switchblade. He squats and ties your ankles to the chair legs with little effort, despite your kicking. Then he pulls another chair from the far side of the attic to face you. 

“Oh, I’m Lloyd, by the way.” He grins as he slices at your already-injured leg. 

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Though he’d brought a comfortable chair, Lloyd didn’t stay long. He made a few cuts, watched you scream and squirm a little, but then his stomach had growled. He stood, wiped the bloody knife on your denim shorts, and folded the weapon as he left the attic. He made a little quip about letting bed bugs bite, and then the trapdoor squealed as it shut, as he left you in darkness. 

The window across the room is dark blue, now. You beg your mind to relive the previous sunset, but the pain in your wrists and your leg are agonizing. Lloyd had cut a shape into your leg, and you didn’t want to see it. You’d not looked as he worked, and you were unable to do so now. Maybe it’ll be gone by morning, you childishly wish.

Again and again, your mind returns to Six. As much as you may have had a right to be, you didn’t have the capacity to be upset with him. Certainly not right this moment, as all you wanted was to be secure in his arms, and it was unlikely you’d be too pissed later, either. Six was your friend. Sure, he was generally reserved, closed off - but those were his natural defenses, and it was impossible not to feel his sincerity, his regard. Six had stayed on without payment for an entire month. He’d asked for extra men, probably calling in a favor instead of offering a reward. Just because he wanted to protect you. If he’d felt it was best to keep the truth hidden, then the truth was probably best kept hidden. After all, the man was the best tactician around; even you knew he had a near-mythological reputation. 

Simply put, you trusted the man unequivocally. You just wished that he would both hurry and stay away. If this lunatic managed to kill Six by using you as bait, you weren’t sure you could live with the guilt. Six spent so much time walling himself off from everyone, and you’d purposefully broken down those defenses. Now you were both in danger. Six was all you had, all you’d wanted, and now that you had him you were about to lose him. 

You sat there as time slipped by, in the dark, crying, until your body exhausted itself.

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

IIIII

A splitting headache wakes you. Your neck is screaming at the position it’s been in for hours, and you feel a little nauseous. The strong light from the round window allows you to clock the time at late afternoon, and you regret waking. Your body straightens when you realize that the sound of the trapdoor opening is what woke you. The sound sharpens and you tense, waiting for more pain. 

As expected, Lloyd’s face beams at you. Immediately, you’re on edge: if Lloyd is happy, you shouldn’t be. He finishes climbing the ladder, and when he does, he motions to someone else to come up.

“Guess who,” he raises his eyebrows conspiratorially. 

“No,” you plead. "No.”

“Mhm. ‘fraid so.” He couldn’t possibly smile wider.

A blonde head that you’d recognize anywhere materializes. He’s shoved by someone else you hate to see: the pale man on your left. The pale man looks terrible. His face is swollen and bloody. Since the ladder rises away from you, you don’t see the prisoner’s face until the pale man roughly turns him around, but you knew it would be Six. He’s slammed into his own rickety chair. His beard is sticky with blood, and a cut near his right eye oozes more blood. His black tracksuit is filthy and torn, and his hands are bound in front of him with zip ties. The instant he faces you, he holds your tearful gaze, and he winks. Your eyebrows constrict briefly in confusion, but you return to utter despair quickly. Lloyd was never going to let you go if he captured Six, and you’re pretty sure he never even offered that lie up to you. Now you were both going to watch each other die. Your chest heaves in sorrow.

“I’m sorry,” your voice is a hoarse whisper, but Six frowns and shakes his head. His attention is forced away from you, however, when Lloyd steps in front of him.

“Wow, Lloyd, you should’ve squeezed the CIA for a better patch job. You look like shit.”

Lloyd laughs, “Aw, don’t make me kill her already. I was just getting excited.”

“Did you do that to her face?” Six asks conversationally. 

“It wasn’t the only thing I did,” Lloyd answers suggestively. And though you can’t see his face, he grins at Six who barely keeps a leash on himself. He files that comment away for later fuel. 

Lloyd begins to speak, cajoling as Six flexes his jaw, his expressive eyes never leaving the threat. “The CIA didn’t ‘patch’ me up. They’ve pinned that whole … situation… on me. Rather unfairly, wouldn’t you say?” He doesn’t give Six time to answer before he continues, “I have other powerful friends who aren’t hunting me for war crimes. But they don’t matter. They support my little personal revenge mission, although they’re not funding it.” He holds up his hands, “Don’t be offended I didn’t send a whole squad after you, Six. I’m pretty depleted after all your shenanigans. But anyway!” He claps his hands, “Don’t you wanna know how I knew?” He sounds thrilled.

“A little birdy told you?”

“Your friend Denver. Now isn’t that just the worst? He sold you out. ‘Six has found himself a girl.’ His plan was to live that night, but hey, can’t win ‘em all, right?”

Lloyd moves to grab his chair, and you’re able to see Six’s reaction. His face doesn’t change, but you know those eyes. He’s not completely shocked, he can’t afford to be in his line of work, but you can see the betrayal, the sadness pooling there. 

Since he has line of sight on you, again, he takes advantage and the corner of his mouth quirks up quickly. The smile is gone before you’re even sure it existed - but that’s the second time he’s signaled you. Trying to keep me from panicking, as always, you reason. You give him an answering smile, but it’s sad, and he grunts in frustration.

Lloyd has his chair in hand, and he looks animatedly between the two of you - back and forth, back and forth, as if trying to choose. The pale man, still standing next to Six, laughs. Your disgust evident on your face, Lloyd makes his choice and sits directly in front of you. 

“Did you miss me, honey?” He purrs. You know from his tone that everything this man is about to do has one purpose: to twist a dagger into Six’s soul. 

“Didn’t really get a chance, asshole,” you pour every bit of rage and hatred you can into your voice. This man might break your body, but you’re pretty sure this level of anger will protect your mind. 

“Let me see that six.” He orders, which stops you right in your tracks.

“What?” You ask, perplexed.

“The six! The six I gave you.” His bottom lip pouts, “You didn’t even see what I gave you?” And he points at your thigh. 

Amidst the blood, you finally see the pattern he had carved into your leg. He hadn’t cut as deeply as your other wound, just deep enough to ensure scarring. 

“You said something about wanting a six, right?” He plays dumb. “If that one’s not big enough, here, I’ll do another.” He lifts the knife quickly and you start at the sudden violence. 

Behind him, you hear Six grunt, then an unfamiliar, more pained-sounding grunt. Lloyd doesn’t hesitate before he jumps behind your chair and sticks the knife against your neck. As he does so, you see the body of the pale man drop to the floor, his submachine gun in Six’s freed hands. Your chin tilts up as high as you can to avoid the blade.

“You brought a knife to a gunfight, Lloyd.” 

“Quite the party foul of me, huh?” Lloyd rejoins. “Oh, well. That’s where your bitch comes in handy.” 

Six doesn’t react. Lloyd's using you as a shield, but he is much larger than you. One good shot would knock him back enough that Six was confident he could reach you before Lloyd recovered. Six starts to squeeze the trigger when the knife leaves Lloyd’s hand, aimed directly at his heart.

Six bats away the shining switchblade with the gun, which sends him a little off balance. Lloyd uses his chance to rush Six. Like the football star he had been, he tackles Six to the floor. Six groans in pain as the wind is knocked from him, and a scream tears from you. At the last second, you remember that the other man in the car, the one on your right, was probably somewhere below. Surely he had heard the thumping, right? Why wasn’t he coming?

Six quickly gets the upper hand, kicking out from underneath the other man, smashing the gun into Lloyd’s face twice as he did so. Six is loath to shoot the man outright because he really wants to beat the shit out of him first. Lloyd gets to his feet at the same time Six does.

Frantically, you knock the chair over, and try to wiggle sideways towards the knife Six had hit. It was several feet away, very close to what now looked like a standoff. Six hears what you’re doing, and circles a little more to his right, putting himself between you and Lloyd. He thrusts the butt of the gun at Lloyd’s gut, but Lloyd grabs hold of it. Six immediately ejects the magazine faster than he’d ever made the move before. He releases his hold on the weapon, knowing it won’t make a difference. Lloyd gives him an eyebrow raise before tossing the gun down the ladder.

Your chair scrapes with every inch, but your desperation gets the knife into your right hand right as you hear the gun fall. You saw at the ropes around your body, then once free of that, you cut the flimsy material around your ankles. Unfortunately, you are still handcuffed to the chair’s armrest. Keeping the knife in hand, you lift the old chair and slam it against the floor, once, twice. Thinking better of that, you sit down and jam both heels on the underside of the armrest, hoping to force the slim piece from its spindles. That worked. Unfortunately, you are still handcuffed.

Six waits for Lloyd to swing first, and when he does, Six puts every play he’s ever learned into action. He swings haymaker after uppercut at Lloyd, most of them connecting viciously. Lloyd gets in several licks, but each time Six shakes it off with a growl. Hoping to shorten this dance, you hold up the knife, hoping it’s Six and not Lloyd who sees what you have to offer. They both notice.

As Lloyd starts to run at you, Six leaps forward, grabbing him around the throat by his forearm. He uses the momentum to slam Lloyd down to his knees. Lloyd twists and claws at him, but Six is stronger. To Lloyd’s endless consternation, Six has always been stronger. You gawk on in horror. You’d seen Six kill a man before, but this was different. This was personal, angry, justified. Six is silent as his arms strain, pressing every bit of strength he has into Lloyd’s windpipe. Lloyd is gagging, gurgling. It was terrible. 

“Go!” Six commands through gritted teeth, and though he wasn’t looking at you, you obey. You didn’t want to see this. 

You flee down the ladder, knife still in hand. Subconsciously, you take in your surroundings: a vacant, crumbling mansion. The white hallway was cracked, and moldy. No furniture could be seen. You could still hear Lloyd’s death throes above you, so you stumble along the hallway, desperate to end the nightmare.

Your right leg, so damaged, gives out and you hit the floor. You see stair railings a few feet away, but you can also see the attic entrance from where you fell, and you weren’t going anywhere without Six. So you drag yourself up against the wall and try to slow your labored breathing as you wait.

A few minutes later, a man dressed in black climbs down. Your heart pounds at the sight of the blonde hair. You stand, wobbling, and drop the knife. As he reaches you, he wraps an arm around you. His hand presses your head to his chest. 

“Let me see your hands.” 

You hold up your cuffs. He unlocks them with a small key you can only assume he got from one of the bodies upstairs. He nudges you forward, and you start down the hallway, then down the stairs. When you get to the bottom of the wooden steps, you see why the other man never came running. He lay bloody on the floor of the foyer. Six had killed him first. 

“Didn’t know where you were in this big old house, so I made my entrance known. Lloyd would take me wherever you were. Amateur.” 

Stepping around the body and out the front door, you hysterically giggle at the stolen car Six had parked normally. “You literally walked in the front door?” 

“Yeah.” 

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

IIIIII

Lloyd had taken you over the Latvian border by several hours, so while you were in the right country, you were still a couple of hours away from Six’s cache. As he drives, you curl up on the back seat, trying to relieve your sore muscles and your stinging leg.

It’s nearly midnight by the time Six pulls to the curb a block from his newest safe house. The streets were bustling with people enjoying their evening, and it wasn’t difficult to blend in. In the darkness, no one could make out your bloody leg, his bloody face. 

Six breaks the padlock off the abandoned-looking building’s side entrance, then steps inside, ensuring it was uninhabited. There’d been no actual threats to your life besides Lloyd Hansen, your company hiring Six as a precaution over rumors, but Six was never going to take a chance again when it came to you.

He ushers you through the door, then tucks you into his side as he opens another door. It’s pitch black, and you cling to his jacket. You hear the door shut behind you, then you hear the sound of his hand sliding along the wall trying to find the light switch.

He succeeds and the room is illuminated in warm, artificial light. It’s another ground-floor apartment, and it’s similar to the previous minus Six’s favorite wingback chair. He takes your hand and guides you into the bathroom where you see the biggest difference yet. The bathroom is clean, spacious, and it has both a bathtub and a shower.

“Capital cities have the best safe houses. More people to maintain them,” he replies to the question in your mind. “Strip.” 

Your head jerks up to look at him. He unzips his track jacket but leaves his pants. You pull the hem of your shirt over your head and drop the bloodstained fabric to the floor. Six crouches in front of you and unbuttons your shorts.

��I’m a professional,” he whispers, trying to lighten your wordless mood as he covers your new knife wound with his hand and pulls your shorts down. 

He takes your hand to balance you as you step out of the bottoms. As he touches you, he looks for a sign of disgust, fear, something that will break his heart but make sense after what you’d been through. 

He grabs a washcloth from the counter and wets it. He crouches in front of you again and begins softly cleaning the blood from your thigh, leaving a wide gap around the actual wound. 

You’re a little unsteady after the lack of nutrition and the stress your body has undergone the past day, but you steel yourself for a moment: you focus on not freaking out, not crying just yet in order to take stock. You watched him kill someone. How do I feel about that?

In your heart, you know that it doesn’t change anything you feel about him. Six killed bad men - always had, always would - and you’d known that when you met him. Your torso shakes, nearly hyperventilating. No, the worst is that you could’ve died, you could’ve watched him die. You collapse onto his shoulders, your arms around his neck.

“I’m sorry.” He says, the timbre of his voice letting you know that he means it for all that has occurred. For what Lloyd did to you physically and probably emotionally. For not telling you the truth, but mostly for putting you in the situation in the first place.

Too emotionally distraught to check the words thoroughly, you try to relieve his guilt: “’s not your fault someone loves you, Six.” 

Still not noticing your own words, you bury your face in his shoulder, and your tears fall freely. The noise he makes under his breath sounds affectionately amazed.

He stands, picking you up, and your legs wrap around him automatically. Your cuts are nearer the outside of your leg, but it still sends a jolt of pain down your limb when you use it to latch onto him. He sets your bottom on the countertop. One hand rubs your back while the other nestles into your hair. 

He knows you’re in shock, and he knows you didn’t mean to tell him you loved him like that. It’s good to hear, and he can’t help the sunrise in his heart, but his primary concern is consoling you. Or distracting you, if possible. Early in his career, he had learned that the best way to move forward was to stop overthinking. Distractions worked well for that.

“Shower or bath?” He asks.

He doesn’t have an ulterior motive, and you’re more than welcome to answer with neither. But in his mind, if it comes to it, he could try to make you forget today for a little while. You sniffle as you pick your head up off his shoulder to see his face.

He’s looking at you like you just saved him, and it’s somehow exactly what you needed.

“Shower.” 

You’d love nothing more than to be warm, bloodstain-free, and staring at Six naked. Without another word, he drops his pants and unclasps your bra. You push your underwear off. You latch around him again, and he carries you into the shower. You drop your legs and stand while he adjusts the temperature. The shower’s wide enough that you don’t feel the water at all as it warms up. 

As the water begins to steam, Six looks over at you and holds his hand out, palm up. A smile touches your lips and he answers with his own as he pulls you to him underneath the showerhead. His hair soaks instantly. He rotates so your hair can rinse free of all the shit it had gone through in the last week.

Six takes a clean, soapy washcloth and stoops to finish cleaning your leg. He tries to ignore the shape that those cuts are in, but it’s still torturing him. He’d tried to forget it the moment after the words had left Lloyd’s mouth, but now he was face-to-face with the physical consequences of his feelings for you. He straightens up and lets the water get the rest of the blood. 

You watch as his expression twists, and he won’t meet your eyes. 

“They’re shallow. They’ll heal.”

“Yeah, right into my fucking name.” He begins washing himself as a means to avoid your face.

“It’s not your name." You cup your hand to his cheek. "Hey, ‘Six’ is not your name. Those marks will heal, and even if I’m still able to see the number, it doesn’t bother me.” Your voice rises with each word. You’re trying to tell him that it’ll be an incidental scar, and even if it mattered, it’s the pseudonym of the man who rescued you.

His stormy eyes meet yours finally, skepticism clouding them. “It doesn’t matter to you that you were tortured and permanently scarred," his voice acerbic, "because of me?”

“It does matter, but it wasn’t because of you, Six. It was because that guy was insane. He was unstable. He hated you and I was useful.” You're pleading with him to hear you. Your hand slides up from his cheek into his drenched hair. 

You decide to gamble a joke, “Always wanted a man’s name tattooed on me, anyway.” 

Your eyes shine up at him fervently, hoping the joke corroborates your apathy over the wound. Because that really didn’t matter to you. The physical scars were nothing - they would heal without issue. If anything, you worried about being separated from Six. How would you ever feel safe without him again? 

Your gamble works. He snorts and leans his forehead to yours. Stray water droplets collect in his facial hair. 

“But you’re right, that’s not my name,” he murmurs, then carefully presses his lips to yours. He’s gentle, but pain issues forth from your split skin, anyway. You flinch slightly, and Six murmurs, "Sorry."

Angry at the reminder, you decide you’re not letting Lloyd take any more seconds of your life, so you deepen the kiss. Your lips part to allow him in, and at the first touch of his tongue, a spark of tension flares.

He hums deep in his chest at your enthusiasm, your reassurance. Six’s right hand curves around the back of your upper thigh, underneath your ass, and he half-lifts/half-pushes you into the icy wall of the shower. You hiss in surprise, but his warm body follows with a grunt a split-second later, and you’re no longer thinking of anything but him. 

Your hand drops to stroke his velvet length against your thigh, and Six’s groaning mouth leaves yours to trail along your jaw and drops to the hollow he knows you love. His hands caress your curves, one hand traveling to grasp your breast as the other hand slides between your legs.

You gasp as the friction of his rough palm, then his fingers, send a jolt right to that coil in your stomach. He squeezes your breast gently, and his thumb rolls over your nipple as Six drops to his knees. 

“You don’t have to -” you start, but change your mind instantly as you appreciate Six below you: his hair drips into his profoundly blue eyes; water runs down his well-defined body, and his thighs flex as he shifts closer to you and sits back on his heels. His large hands wrap around your hips. You feel your breath hitch as he angles forward and his breath touches your tender skin a moment before his heated mouth. His tongue flattens against you before flicking at the perfect pace; he alternates between the two patterns. The heat floods through you in a deluge - your eyes slam shut, your head rolls back, and when your stomach constricts, your legs go weak.

He makes a pleased guttural sound that vibrates into your skin, and he plants one firm arm upward along the inside of your hip, his hand on your ribs, to keep you upright. His other hand on your hip welds you firmly to him. Your cries of pleasure echo in the space, and he feels himself growing painfully hard. 

Your body having been stretched to its limits in so many ways means the euphoria you feel now has you coming easily. Six feels the tension in you splinter, feels the shuddering in your legs. The pride it gives him is unmatched as he holds you still. You moan into the steamy air, and he knows could do this forever.

He continues at the same pace, but in a moment of lucidity, you miss him against you. You pull at his shoulder, and he obliges, standing. His right hand grasps the underside of your knee, palm on the outside of your leg, and he fits himself right against you. You can feel him twitch with expectation. An aftershock of your first orgasm ripples through you, and has you clenching around nothing. You shiver, already anticipating how good he will feel. 

“Please, Si-” you beg him, unnecessarily.

He makes a sudden decision, cutting you off, “It’s Court.”

Your eyes fly up to his. But before you have a chance to speak, he steadily shifts up into you. His quiet groan is punctuated by your gasps. His eyes close involuntarily at your tight warmth. Your nails dig into his biceps where you’d braced yourself. The stretch hurts a little this time, but you're too satisfied with the closeness to care. Relishing the unique intimacy of being inside you, he skims one hand down your side before he drags himself unhurriedly out, and thrusts back in. 

He begins to slowly increase his rhythm, and with each incredible entrance, you both let the sounds spill out from your mouths uninhibited. Before long he is driving into you so unrelentingly that all you can do is hang onto him. He never neglects your lips for a second, his deep, messy kiss the only thing keeping you sane. You feel white-hot; it’s nearly painful, but it’s so good.

Tears leak down your face. His left hand cups your cheek, thumb swiping away the salty liquid. He can see you’re about to snap once again by the way your face pinches, then begins to unwind underneath his hand. He drops his hand to work you over further. He never knew life could be so sweet. Reserved, isolated his entire adult life, he knows that he’s never going to be happy if he’s not coming home to this. 

“Don’t say Six,” he begs. It’s never mattered to him before. He was the same person no matter what anyone referred to him as. But he wanted you to know, to have the purest version of himself. The version no one else had.

He looks down into your eyes as he asks, and when the understanding hits you, it’s the final nail in your coffin. A sob echoes in the small room as your walls constrict around him, fluttering. He revels in the image of you falling apart against him.

He kisses you again, then lets his lips hang open over yours as you both breathe heavily from the wicked roll of his hips. He’s blurry through your tears, and you blink a little to better understand what you just saw flashing in his eyes. What you’d seen there two days earlier, too. He loves you, your mind supplies unasked.

Court’s rhythm changes to deep, passionate thrusts as he tries to bury himself in you. His desperate grunts send aftershocks throughout your thighs. He’d never stop if his body would allow it. He gradually slows his movements, still working you through your own high. He finishes with a low, animalistic noise and closes the small gap between your mouths. Neither of you move, panting.

You look up at him through your lashes, your eyes full of tears at the emotion between you two. He kisses you, hard - full of everything he'd wanted to say for months. After several moments, he lets go of your leg, and removes himself from you.

Unwilling to stop touching you, though, he takes you by the hand as he exits the shower. You twist the knob to shut it off as you walk by. 

He wraps an old, gray towel around his waist, and hands one to you. You squish your hair, then wrap it around your chest. He’s quiet, uncomfortable for some reason, so you take his hand again, and back him up against the counter. He barks a reluctant, low laugh at you pretending to be able to keep him pinned. He rests his hands on your waist.

“Why are you sad?” You ask bluntly.

“I’m not the one who was just crying,” he deflects with a quip. 

You raise your eyebrows and frown at him. 

Remembering that he wanted you to know him, he cautiously answers in a halting undertone, “I would like a calm life.” He stops, thinking. “Maybe with you...”

It's almost a question, and he doesn’t say what he means exactly, but you understand. You're his chance at a normal life. A happy life.

“Maybe not a calm life, no, but you could have me.” You phrase it as a potential, though it’s not one. He’s had you wrapped around his finger for months. You'd do anything if your reward was this man.

His face doesn’t change, so you try again, “You already have me; so, it’d be nice if you’d accept it.” 

“Oh, I don’t even get a choice, now?” He smirks faintly, his thumbs rubbing along your hips through the thin towel.

“I don’t think I’ll ever feel happy without you,” you confess your earlier thought. Your hand traces over the tattoo on his chest. “I know I wouldn't feel safe."

He sighs heavily. “I can’t say nothing will ever happen,” he says honestly, “but I can promise I'll be there." He pauses, trying to figure out how to express himself. "If you want me, then-"

“I always want you, Court.”

You cut him off, speaking his name for the first time. When when he smiles, it finally touches his eyes. His grip tightens on your waist. He's contemplative for a moment as his look turns mischievous.

He lowers his voice, “About that book you tried to kill me with: I think I remember a page or two -” he breaks off as he bends faster than you’re capable of reacting to, and throws you expertly over his shoulder, smiling at your laughing shriek.