#sierra six fic

[ken-dom]

Alone Together

Sierra Six x gn!reader

2.4k words

∘₊✧ Summary: you take Six to the carnival for your first date, hoping he’ll relax a little

∘₊✧ Author’s notes: this was written for @heresthestorymorningglory’s birthday! Thanks for being my best goose, I hope you have an excellent day when it eventually rolls around 💖 (we were too excited to wait to post our birthday fics). It was SO hard writing Six without sending it to her to check it was Sixy enough!! If you haven’t read her Six, thoroughly recommend.

∘₊✧ Warnings/content: fluff, first date, kissing, mild peril?!, mention of clowns

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

Six’s arm is secure around your shoulders, almost swallowing you up in his embrace as he keeps you close.

And keeps you safe, of course. Even during his rare downtime, Six was on high alert. You’d never seen someone play a ring toss challenge with such laser focussed eyes and tensed shoulders before, but he got every single one, winning you a red love heart shaped balloon that bobbed along above you as you strolled through the fairground.

It was cute of him to choose the balloon over an annoyingly large stuffed toy, but you know it was partly (mostly) so that if he lost sight of you, you’d be easier to locate in the crowd should anything go wrong. But, really, what did it matter? You’d never felt safer than when you were with him, and your first date is shaping up to be just about perfect; except that you haven’t stopped to eat yet.

The aromas of deep fried doughnuts and roasting onions make your mouth water as you move through the fair, and you fully intend to drag him off for a hot dog or fries when you see a ring the bell game and stop in your tracks, considering it.

Six looks down, seeing your eyes light up, and smiles. But he feels you sigh as you glance at the arm around your shoulders and look back in the direction of the food stalls, forgetting it.

‘Hey, let’s have a go?’ he encourages, lightly squeezing his arm around you.

You huff, amused. ‘Are you kidding?’

‘No.’

‘Nah, it’s huge. And you’re huge!’ You squeeze his bicep. ‘Far too easy, and where’s the fun in that for either of us?’

Six takes a deep, even breath, slowly sliding his arm from around your shoulders as he thinks on it. ‘How about we make it interesting?’

You raise an eyebrow in his direction and he remains apparently unfazed, with both his hands free he pops a Skittle or two into his mouth, chewing leisurely. There’s no urgency in him at all and you realise he’s started to relax. Just a little.

‘If you ring the bell before I do, you choose what we do for the rest of the night.’

‘I fully planned to do that anyway,’ you smirk playfully.

‘Even the haunted house,’ he offers with a tilt of his head, as though it’s a very attractive deal.

‘Oh? Scared?’ 

‘Terrified,’ he quips, tossing another Skittle onto his tongue and sucking for a second before giving in and crunching the sugary shell.

‘Whatever, you just want to show off,’ you wink.

Six grunts, shoving the candy bag back into his pocket, and confidently strides over to swap a five dollar bill for the mallet, assuming the position.

He swings the mallet down to the base with such force that you’re sure will send the little red puck right up to the top of the ten foot pole and send a triumphant ring through the fairground.

But, somehow, he misses. Spectacularly. 

The second time, the mallet conveniently – and comically – slips out of his hand before he swings it, and falls to the ground behind him.

He tilts his head in defeat, a wry smile pulling at his lips.

You glare back, annoyed that he’s doing this to let you win. There’s no way Six, with all his precision and skill can’t manage to wield a simple carnival mallet.

The third time he brings the mallet down, the puck shoots up to just an inch below the bell and drops back to the bottom again without a win. There’s that precision.

With sparkling eyes, he catches your gaze and mutters, ‘Too distracted, I guess. Your turn.’

You narrowed your eyes at him as he leant against the side of the nearest trailer, folding his arms over his chest and trying to appear casual.

You grip the mallet, squeezing your fingers around the handle to brace yourself, and bring it down hard. The little puck shoots up, and you don’t reach the bell, but you’re so close you could kick yourself.

With much less effort this time, you do it, and the bell rings loud and proud through the chatter and music, and you were offered a range of ridiculously large stuffed animals to choose from and take away with you.

Six stayed propped against the trailer, smirking again but blatantly this time, as you picked out a huge panther plushie.

‘That one. Reminds me of him,’ you smile, throwing it immediately over to Six. 

He catches it easily. It looks so much smaller in his hands and you laugh at the frown he reveals as he lowers it.

‘That thing’s yours now. You’ll need to name him.’

‘No thank you,’ Six retorted, holding it back out toward you.

‘I rang the bell, I make the decisions, remember?’

Six’s jaw clenched as he stared at you.

‘Fine. Bruce,’ he eventually grunts, reluctantly sliding the thing under one arm as you slide your arm into the other.

‘You let me win, Six. You’re not getting away with it that easy.’

‘You didn’t want to win?’ he smarms.

‘Of course I did. I just didn’t want you to pretend to lose for my benefit.’

Six sighs resignedly. ‘Hungry?’ he suggests, hoping you can forget about the stupid ring the bell game over a bag of sugary doughnuts together, but an idea lights up in your eyes and you drag him away in the opposite direction.

You pass the stunt cage and watch a peroxide blonde mount a motorcycle, making a mental note to return to here later and catch the next show. But for now, you had other ideas.

‘You mentioned the haunted house?’

Six’s brow furrows again.

‘Oh, impatient are we? I apparently had to win a biassed game to get what I wanted, so I’ll take it at my leisure, thank you.’

Six rolls his eyes and drops back in defeat, leaving you free to stop off at the sweet stall for a big cloud of blue cotton candy on the way.

He watches you as you excitedly point to what you want, still clutching your balloon as he clutches Bruce. He’s in awe at the way you move, the way you laugh with the vendor as though you’ve known her your entire life, the glee on your face as you return to him with the ball of pure sugar.

You reach up to pop a handful into his mouth, fingertips brushing briefly against his bottom lip. He almost lets out a hum at how your gentle touch tingled, but manages to stop it before it erupts.

‘How’s it taste?’ you ask innocently, tearing off a chunk of blue for yourself.

Six blinks away, inclined to answer with something like Not as good as I bet you do, but worried it would be too much. So he stayed silent as you shared the rest of the floss with him.

‘Will that keep you going?’ you ask teasingly, not waiting for an answer. ‘Haunted house next!’

You grab his hand to pull him toward the attraction, your knees weakening slightly as you feel how big it is against yours. You’ve noticed the size of his hands before; big, warm looking palms and long, surprisingly elegant fingers.

‘I’ve never actually been in one,’ you admit excitedly as you stop by the little ticket office to admire it in all its stereotypical horror film beauty. ‘But I’ve always wanted to. I love a bit of a spook!’

Six takes care of the tickets and follows your lead. You step inside and drop his hand as you venture first. A skeleton pops out to wave and you laugh, but then there's a second, unexpected skeleton, and you jump, grabbing his hand again.

Six’s cheeks turn hot at how you find safety in him, but you can’t see the blush colouring his cheeks in the gloom of the spooky corridors. He’s thankful for that.

You move closer when the winding path through the house grows darker, sickly smelling smoke making it hard to see very far ahead of you, and eventually you’re so close to Six that his breathing catches in his throat.

The haunted house doesn’t phase him one bit; he predicts almost every movement before it occurs and has absolutely no fear of the dead and creepy; it’s an occupational hazard that he’s much more concerned with the living and creepy. But having you cling to his arm feels nice somehow. It makes him feel safe and wanted, which is new, and surprisingly pleasant. He doesn’t want you to let go and hopes there's a while before this comes to an end.

A group of ghosts sweeps past and you giggle, but the bizarre gust of wind that accompanies them chills you to the bone. Before you can quite recover, a clown appears right in your path, and you jump enough for Six to automatically pull you closer. Feeling you tremble with the after effects of your surprise, he quickly seeks out a particularly dark, undisturbed corner and tugs you toward it, setting you in front of him so you’re facing away from whatever else is going on in the haunted house for a moment.

‘Hey, you doing ok?’ He sounds lighthearted, but you can tell he’s forcing it, concern lacing his tone.

‘Yeah! Yeah, it’s fun, it’s just…’ you trail off.

‘A little jumpy,’ he nods, as though he agrees, but you know he isn’t phased.

As your eyes adjust in the darkness, they find his piercing blue gaze intense on yours and your heart races a little faster.

‘Need a break?’ he whispers huskily..

You can only nod. The thrill of being scared out of your wits is all part of the fun for you, but being so close to Six after the adrenaline rush, alone together in the dark, renders you speechless. You’ve been drawing closer by the second and now you’re mere inches from his face, can feel his warm breath on your cheek, smell his peppery cologne. Bruce nudges you in the chest and six drops him.

You can’t recall how it started, you just know that your lips were trembling one moment, and pressed to Six’s the next. His muscular arms snake around your waist as his strong hands glide up your back, pulling you flush to his chest and finally letting out that hum he tried to suppress when your finger grazed his bottom lip earlier. It vibrates against you and you think this might be as close to reckless abandon as Six might get and smile against his mouth.

You feel his tongue, hot and wet, trace the join of your lips and you instantly part them, eagerly inviting his tongue to slide against yours. It’s languid and needy, and the taste of the cotton candy you’d shared hits you first. It tastes different on his tongue than yours — more blue somehow — and then the artificial sugary fruit of the Skittles he’d been periodically chewing on all night follows. It’s sickly sweet, but so him you can’t help but find it delicious.

The groans and cackles and clanks of the haunted house fade into nothingness behind you, and it’s just him. Just Six, and you, hidden away. Secure and yet adventurous, safe and exciting. Your grip on the balloon he’d won you loosens and it floats up to the ceiling, somewhere in the dark, ready to be discovered when the carnival moves on.

He shifts a little, suddenly impatient, and deepens the kiss with a quiet moan that sends butterflies soaring in your stomach, and when the fingers tenderly rubbing at the nape of your neck slide up into your hair and scrape against your scalp you all but swoon, thankful he has you pinned against his chiselled frame within those thick arms to keep you upright.

The kiss slows to a stop, and Six pulls back for breath, sighing almost dreamily. He’s smiling at you, but it’s not playful or jokey this time. It’s warm and soft, and unlike any expression you’ve seen on his features before.

‘Better?’ he breathes, already fumbling in his pocket to retrieve yet another Skittle and drop it into his mouth.

‘Much,’ you smile back.

He drops his gaze, coy, and nods. ‘I’m excellent at distraction techniques.’ And with that, his mischievous sparkle is back. ‘Now can we please get some food? Skittles will only sustain me for a few days.’

You roll your eyes spiritedly, and one corner of his mouth twitches, pleased he’s calmed you enough to be mock-exasperated with him.

Six holds an elbow up as an offer for you to tuck yourself under his arm again, and you accept, pulling his forearm up gently to cover your eyes. As cute as the ghosts and skeletons had been, that final clown jump scare just about finished you off.

After collecting discarded Bruce, he carefully guides you back out into the bustle and bright lights of the fair, the familiar melodies of carnival music and the sizzle of the nearby hot dog stall flooding your senses again, and you pull his arm away from your eyes.

‘Thank you,’ you mouth, reaching up to stroke his cheek with a tender caress.

His eyes slide shut and he leans into your touch for just a moment, but he’s quick to snap his gaze back to his surroundings again. Force of habit, you supposed.

You drop your hand and look around too, getting your bearings. ‘So what can I get you? My treat.’ 

His gaze is already trained on the doughnut stand before you finish the sentence. Laughing, you nod and head over without waiting for his confirmation, bringing him back a bag of four deliciously golden doughnuts dusted in thick sugar.

Six eyes you suspiciously as you hand over the little paper bag. ‘I didn’t give you my order.’

‘Didn’t need to; I saw you eyeing them. To be honest, even if I didn’t, I could’ve guessed.’

Six, paused with a doughnut half way to his mouth, raises a questioning eyebrow at you. 

‘Six. Come on. You taste like sugar.’

Six blushes deeply. He’d never considered how he might taste. He felt exposed, but in a good way? He wasn’t sure how to explain it. You see it this time, and smile inwardly.

‘What, you want my fries instead?’

‘No, no, I’m good,’ he protests, taking a bite big enough to tear the first doughnut clean in half and mumbling through a full, sugary mouth, ‘thank you.’

[elusivewildflower]

Needy | Court Gentry/Six x Reader

Pairing: Court Gentry/Six x F! Reader

Summary: Court is tired and just wants to sleep, you have something else in mind.

Warnings: pure smut, I’m not sorry. unprotected piv, cockwarming, lil bit of masturbation. 18+ only.

Word Count: 916

A/N: I woke up with the need to write some filth. I hope you enjoy this short little fic. Could kinda be seen as in The Other Fitzroy! verse somewhere in the future. Also not beta’d or proofread so I’m sorry y’all. 

MINORS DNI

You had been in bed for over an hour, tossing and turning as you tried to fall asleep. Court was tired, and you knew it, as he had fallen asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. You, on the other hand, couldn’t get comfortable. Your skin was hot and damp with sweat, and you were undeniably horny. You pressed your thighs together as you laid on your side, trying to give yourself some kind of relief–but it wasn’t working. You needed more. Feeling only slightly guilty about it, you scooted yourself closer to Court’s sleeping form and pressed your hips into his. He knew your body better than you and could have you coming within minutes–something you desperately needed. You were thankful that the two of you had opted to sleep naked due to the summer heat–it made what you wanted easier to obtain. It only took a few circles of your hips on his for him to wake, a soft groan rumbling in his chest as his cock twitched against your ass. His large hand came to rest upon your waist, his lips pressing soft kisses to your shoulder. 

“I’m tired, baby,” he murmured into your skin, another groan emitting from him as you continued to roll your hips into his. His cock was growing harder by the second. The hand that rested on your waist gripped you tightly, ceasing the gyrating movements of your hips. 

You let out a whine. “Court, please,” you begged. Your clit was throbbing with need, your walls already clenching around nothing.

He hummed softly in response, shifting his hips so that the head of his cock lined up with your slick entrance. “Keep me warm and I’ll fuck you in the morning,” he promised, giving one swift thrust that sheathed him inside of you completely. Both of you let out a moan as he filled you up. You could feel every inch of his thick, veiny, cock deep within you, but it still wasn’t enough. Your velvety walls clenched around him, but Court didn’t react. He was probably already asleep again. You silently cursed him for being able to sleep through almost any situation. You wished you could do the same. But the throbbing desire to cum returned and you couldn’t control yourself. You rocked your hips back and forth, gently fucking yourself on his cock. Court’s hand upon your waist tightened again, halting you. You let forth another whine in response, your hand snaking down your torso and sliding between your folds. Circling your swollen clit with your fingers, you felt the muscles in your lower stomach begin to tighten. Your walls fluttered around Court’s cock erratically, causing him to twitch deep within you. 

Court breathed out a laugh as he realized what you were doing. “Really?” He questioned softly.

“Need to cum,” you panted, fingers pressing harder against your clit. 

Court sunk his teeth into your neck, making you moan wantonly. “So needy,” he scolded playfully. His hand slid from your waist to under your thigh, lifting your leg up so that he could thrust into you. 

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned as his hips snapped into yours, each stroke of his cock brushing against the spot that had your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your back arched as you neared your orgasm, your fingers working in harsh circles on your clit as Court’s thrusts picked up pace. Finally, the coils in your lower stomach snapped, your orgasm washing over you in waves as Court fucked you through it. Your hand fell to the sheets as soon as your clit became sensitive, but Court quickly replaced it with his own. You let out a cry at the overstimulation, trying to run from his touch. He only pressed his fingertips to your clit harder in response, nipping at your neck once again. 

“One more, baby,” he panted against you, soothing the skin that he had just nipped with his tongue. 

You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes from the mix of pain and pleasure. “No, I can’t.” 

“Yes, you can. I know you can,” he encouraged, his cock beginning to swell and twitch deep inside as he pistons in and out of you. Your body begins to tense as your second orgasm builds, your fingers clutching at the damp sheets beneath you as you rock your hips to meet his thrusts. It all feels too good, too quickly, and your walls clamp tightly around him. You’re squeezing him so tightly that his thrusts falter as you fall over the edge. 

“Fuck, Court!” You cry out, your legs shaking as an intense orgasm courses through you. Court resumes his pace after your walls relax, now chasing his own release. Groans and growls rumble from his chest, increasingly growing in volume as he nears his peak. A few thrusts of his hips later and he’s cumming deep inside of you with a final growl. His cock pulses as rope after rope of his hot seed fills you. He takes a moment to catch his breath before he pulls his softening cock from you, his cum immediately leaking onto the sheets. You make a mental note to throw them into the wash in the morning. 

He presses a kiss to your shoulder as his hand slaps your ass gently. “Now let me sleep,” he murmured into your skin. You giggled in response, snuggling yourself into the covers as you finally feel sleepiness overcome you.

[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.”

[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.

[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.

[georgiapeach30513]

You Were the One, Part 17

Summary:  Lloyd is in trouble

Pairings:  Lloyd Hansen X Reader

Rating:  mature

Warnings:  language, movie style violence, sex talk, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  2.7K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics​

“Lloyd,” his eyes linger close as he thinks about when it will be safe to talk to you.  Imagining this mission being finished, and he can let his little girl run into his arms, while he spins her around.  You walking over with Holden in your arms, giving him a long and filthy kiss while his babies laugh.  He will be finished, he can retire from this life, and live the rest of his days with you.

“Lloyd,” the man says again, but Lloyd keeps his eyes closed.  He disturbed his beautiful daydream.  He can practically smell your perfume.  Could imagine the taste of your lips with that cherry lip gloss that paints his own lips.

“They found him,” Fitzroy’s lips purse as he watches the cocky bastard.  Even still, his eyes remained closed.

“Who’s the closest to him?” Lloyd asks, his pinky finger twitching.  He’s one step closer to ending a six year promise.

“We are,” Lloyd’s eyes roll open, and he smirks up at him.  Giving him a nod of his head, before he starts to stand.

“What would Twelve think of you chasing her former fiancé?  This is only going to end one way.  Does she know?”

Lloyd leans over, getting right in Fitzroy’s face, speaking in a low whisper, “Do not mention my wife again.  You’ll never know what she would do.  And none of these greasy mercenaries need to know anything about her former existence.  Have I made myself clear?”

“Why would you care unless she wasn’t actually dead?” Lloyd back hands the older man, “I guess that answered that.  He’ll find her.  He’s been looking.”

“Keep your fucking mouth closed,” Lloyd says in a low growl walking to the front of the aircraft.  Popping his neck before walking into the cockpit, “We need to ground in Vienna,” he turns to walk back, because no one ever tells Lloyd no.

The pilots turn back around to gawk at him, each of them looking at the other confused, “We haven’t filed a flight plan.  They’ll never clear us.”

Annoyed he goes back to them, he’s always surrounded by children.  His own two children take orders better than this.  “So declare an emergency,” they’re worse than children.  Holden was two and followed simple rules better than this.

“There are weapons onboard, I’ll lose my license.”

“We have a field alternate near Budapest.  Best I can do is call them.”

Lloyd without pause removes his handgun from his pocket, shooting one of the pilot’s legs, “How do you feel about your license?” God they were infuriating.  There Six was, and he was almost finished.  So close.

“Mayday.  Mayday.  Mayday, this November Three…”

Finally he can walk back to his seat.  Tucking his piece back in his pants, Fitzroy glares up at him, “Who’s up for some Tafelspitz?” He sits down in front of Fitzroy with a crooked grin, “I swear you say another fucking thing about her, I’ll pull every single one of your goddamn teeth out before I saw your tongue off, and make you gag on every bit of it.  Keep your fucking mouth shut.”

Lloyd waits for the mercenaries to walk in front of him as he stares up at the building.  Taking a big whiff because he can smell Six.  He was right there.  While they walk in ready for a fight, Lloyd strolls into the eclectic apartment spotting the informant immediately, knitting.  Seriously?  He wanted this job to be finished yesterday.

“Where’s the target,” Lloyd whispers, looking around, before going back to the man.  He shouldn’t have to be asking.  

“Where’s my money,” idiot. He didn’t have time for this.  Lifting his gun, he shoots the man, killing him instantly.  Infuriating.  Now he’s going to have to do this the hard way.  Lifting his gun, he motions the men to start searching the premises, he has to stay out of the way.  He will go home, and he’d prefer there not to be more scars for you to kiss on.  Or maybe he does want that.

Lloyd walks through the hall, until he sees the informant’s other business, new identities.  Letting the men do the hard work.  This should be easy.  One look, and he can see that Six is in a cage.  It’s about time.  He should be home to you by tomorrow.  He watches curiously through the glass as they get closer.  Something felt off.  He knows he shouldn’t underestimate Six.  Six was an idiot, but he was a smart man.  

Dammit.  A fucking explosion.  Just what he needed.  He grits his teeth, before heading towards the exit he would go towards.  He’ll be there waiting on Six.  If you want something right, you have to do it yourself.

Waiting, and hearing guns go off repeatedly, and Six is unarmed.  Fuck it.  Lloyd sucker pushes him, slamming his body up against the wall before spraying him with pepper spray.  He might be able to fool these idiots that he brought with him, but he wouldn’t outsmart Lloyd.

“Come on, man,” Six groans.  Lloyd still smelled the same.  He reeked of luxury cologne.  Maybe a bit too much of it.  He still hated him.

“Hey, sunshine,” Lloyd taunts.  His gun under Six’s chin.  It was too easy.

“I can barely see, but I know it’s you.”

“What gave it away?”

“The white paints, the trash ‘stache, your arrogance, and you never change your cologne.”

“Yeah, my wife loves the way it smells,” Six blinks his eyes open a bit more, searching around Lloyd’s face.  He caught it.  Lloyd didn’t use past tense.  “Where’s the drive?” Oh, he’s going to change the subject that quickly, huh?

“I got it here somewhere.  It’s just hard to see.  Is that it?” Six asks, pulling up a ring to a grenade.  Son of a bitch!

He drops the bomb, and Lloyd watches it fall, glaring back up at Six, “Ballsy,” god, he hated this man.  Letting go of his hold he has on Six, he runs in the direction he came from.  He at least knows how to get out of this fucking place.

He walks to the outside, swearing he heard Six’s footsteps, and when the man’s back comes into view he shoots a few warning shots beside him.  Six turns around grunting, his day just kept getting worse.  “Nice try, pumpkin.”

“What size shoe are you?”

What the fuck?  “Why?  You want my foot in your ass?  Ah, shit!” oh someone was going to die.  His head glances back at his ass, knowing you were not going to be happy about this.  And thankfully, it was a dart.  He pulls it out to look at, cussing even more in his mind than he was vocally.  This was supposed to be easy.  “Mother…” he’s able to get out before passing out down the stairs.  You were not going to be happy.

You sit on the floor beside Holden as he mostly destroys whatever it is that Ferryn makes.  Watching her carefully build up a tower of blocks, before the tornado of your son knocks every bit of it down.  Hearing their little belly laughs fill the room, and it makes you so happy, the only thing missing is their daddy.

When your phone goes off, Ferryn gasps, running to it.  Only two people had that number, and one was her daddy.

“Daddy?” She asks, answering the phone without even seeing if it was okay.

“I’m sorry, Princess, it’s just me, Auntie Nat.  I’m guessing daddy isn’t there?”

“No, he had to go on a business trip,” you reach your hand out for the phone, but before handing it to you, she quickly adds, “Can you tell daddy to come home now.  Holden learned a new word.  He still can’t talk as well as me.  Mama says it’s because I have better use of my tongue.  I gotta go,” she gives you a sweet smile, adding, “I love you.”

“Love you, two, Princess.”

The second Ferryn hands you the phone, you try to remain calm.  “Nat?”

“I need your advice.  Look at the Berlin news.  It’s nothing major.  But it has your man’s name written on it.  Why’s he not at home?  Six is also MIA.”

“Mother,” Ferryn’s eyes go large, and you smile at her sweetly, “Goose,” rushing to your Honey Hole, you scroll through news reels, trying to find anything.  Checking security cameras when you see both Six and Lloyd.  All in the same general vicinity.  “Son of biscuit mix.  I’m going to kill him!”

“So?”

“They were both in Berlin, and in the same fudging location.”

“Your G rated profanity is giving me life right now.”

“Yeah, well when you have a five and two year old who think saying sugar and the god damsel is the best alternative.  You do what you have to.  I told him.  I forking told him to stay out of Six’s radar.  Nat, they’re going to kill each other.  Doggie doo doo, I’m going to call him.  Thank you.  Please come by next week, so we can celebrate the murder of my husband.”

Lloyd limps into the base camp, ugly shoes, and completely irritated.  This was supposed to be easy.  He wants to scream and throw something at someone.  They were all incompetent.  And now he has a sore ass, and you’re not here to kiss it and make it feel better.  Ferryn would bring him a bowl of ice cream while Holden would play with his mustache and giggle the sweetest baby laughs.  He was ready for another one.

He hobbles into the common room, why does he not just have shit ready for him.  He was becoming spoiled, and he liked it.  “Is that Donald Fitzroy?”  God he hated her.  “What the hell are you doing?”  Obnoxious.  He’s adding her to his hit list.  Personal.  he’ll take no payment for her.

“Suzanne!  Long time.  If I’m honest, I liked your old haircut.  The one where you didn’t look like a bitch.”

“We did not give you permission to kidnap former CIA personnel and their family members.  You’ve been hired by the agency to recover…” lord, she was obnoxious.  Yapping and yapping.  On and on.

“To do your job because you couldn’t,” he needed you.  This bitch never shut up and she was fucking useless.  “Can someone get me a Vicodin, please?”  And a blow job from you.

“So where is Six?”

“Where I want him?” Just the sound of her voice is causing his body to ache.  She never quit her fucking nagging.

“In the wind?”

“On the run, scared shitless,” he needed to do some butt stuff with you now.  She never shut up.  Never.  Fucking.  Shut.  Up.

“This is ten years of my work on the line here, Lloyd…”

My god!  Flattening his hand on the table, he skims it over the smooth surface, knocking everything on the floor, and glaring at her.  Panting, because she could never keep her mouth fucking closed.  “I am your only prayer of getting that drive back because I can do everything the agency can’t.  You know all those rules you guys are always trying to work your way around?  They don’t mean dick to me.  So unless you want our names spilled across every news alert  on every phone in every pocket on Earth, shut up and go sit in the corner,” he’d like to sit you in the corner. Make you suck on his dick.  Letting him have complete control of how deep you take him.  He needed to de-stress.  He’s hoping you haven't got wind of anything.  Six always had the ability to be messy, and he was messier without you.  

“Oh,” he picks up a bottle of pills, “How ‘bout that?” He can’t stand to be around her, so he limps away instead.  He needed some alone time to look through his photos.  He was in a mood.  “Forget about the Vicodin.”

“Why are you walking like that?”

“Because I got shot in the ass, Suzanne!” He limps away but gets stopped by a man, “What is it now?”

“The Dark Angel is on the phone.”

“Son of a bitch.  No one fucking disturbs me!” He was in trouble.  He knew he was in trouble. If you were patching in it was because you knew something.  He was happy to talk to you, and now he’s scared.  He grabs up the phone from someone, and lets you know that he has the phone before looking for a secure room.

Walking into a room far away from anyone, he looks side to side before closing the door, “Honey…”

“Lloyd Hansen,” you took your voice changer off, it was the real you.  That was nice.  But your angry voice means you aren’t here for sexy talk.  “Who’s the target?”

“Honey, let me…”

“Who’s the flipping target, Lloyd?”

“I can explain.”

“I knew it!  I freaking knew that it was Six.  I told you not to get in his darn way.  And what does my idiot husband do?  He chases after him.  Do you know why I told you not to get in his filming way?”

“Because…”

“Because you both have a forking vendetta against the other.  You both furiously hate each other.  Did you get him?  No, you didn’t.  I saw you fudging fall down the stairs.  Lloyd, you work best with me in your ear.  But you didn’t want me in your ear because of your target.  Now keep me in your gosh dang ear, so I can bring you back home.”

“Are you finished?” You grunt as an answer, and he chuckles at you.  “I should have told you.”

“You’re dang right you should have told me.  Lloyd, honesty.  Trust.  Communication, that’s why we work.”

“Mama, can I talk to daddy?”

“Don’t you put her on the phone.  Honey, I can’t handle that right now.”

“Daddy?”

“Hey, Pixie Dust,” he changes his voice to sound overly sweet for his beautiful daughter.  Squishing his eyes closed, because he can’t hold any of you.  He hated this.

“Mama is using her rated G language.  What did you do?”

“Nothing, baby.  You taking care of Holdie?” he pinches the bridge of his nose, wishing he was home.  He was getting sloppy because he wanted to speed this up.  He knew where he was making his mistakes

“Uh huh.  Daddy, I want you to come home, right now.”

“I know, Pixie Dust.  I gotta finish this.  Put your mother on the phone,” you huff to him, letting him know you were back.  “I really need your special medicine right now.”

“Don’t talk to me like that when I can’t say anything back because I have beans in the room,” Ferryn looks up at you oddly, before pulling at Holden’s hand to go back to playing.  

“My ass is sore.”

“It’ll be even more sore when I bite it instead of kiss it.”

“You’re mean.”

“Lloyd, you promise me right now, you’re following my rules, and not your own.  You get careless when I’m not around.”

“I mean…”

“Fitzroy has gone missing.  Do you know anything about that or his niece?  His fudging niece, Lloyd?”

“Why would I know anything about that?”

“Because Fitzroy and I are the only ones that can find Six.  You knew he wouldn’t help you.  So why not include your wife?”

“Honey, we’re going around in circles here.  I’ll let you patch in.  I’ll keep my com in my ear.  You call the shots.  But first, I gotta do something.”

“Do not interrogate him.”

“Uh,” how did you do that?  How did you just always know?  “Who’s in Prague?” 

“Was that so complicated?  God, include me.  I’m your asset, and you’re my ass.   That’s how we work.  I’ll know if you’ve tortured that man, Lloyd.”

“Who’s in Prague, Honey.  I’m running out of time.”

“Lloyd, behave.  I’ll be watching.”

“Honey!”

“Margaret Cahill.  And Lloyd, I swear to you if you hurt a hair on that girl's head, you won’t be getting a warm place to put your, well, you know and you won’t be getting head for the rest of your life.  No kids, babe.  That is what we said.  We don’t deal in kids.”

“I know.  I needed Fitzroy and Six to comply.”

“Ask your wife next time.  And babe, I’m the Dark Angel when you’re not at home.  Don’t go throwing your Honey’s at me, do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” smirking he starts to walk out the door.  Foregoing the need to talk to Fitzroy.  Switching the phone for his earpiece he always keeps on him.  “But don’t question my methods.”

“What are you gonna do to Six?”

“Nothing, if he hands over the drive.”

“Who are you talking to?” Suzanne asks as she raises an eyebrow.

“Secret weapon,” Denny looks back at him with a smile.  Lloyd was ready to play.  “I need the address on the screen, we’re sending them all to Prague.  Do your thing.”

“Lloyd, don’t make me regret this.  You’ve still got Hades to pay when you get home,” you warn him putting the address on the screen.  “And you better stay alive.  I’ve got a surprise for you when you get home,” he doesn’t answer, but smirks, “I feel you smiling all the way here, babe.  You’re coming home to us.”

“I know.”

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[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…

[mlmxreader]

Saviour | Sierra Six x m!reader

@satan-incarnate-666 asked: "Hey, hey look at me! Look at me!" m!reader x hurt!sierra six

summary: Six is in bad shape, but luckily, there’s someone who won’t quite give up on him. 

tws: swearing, injury, scabs/blood, gun violence mention

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

Six coughed loudly, his body jerking as he reached to hold onto his side, his ribs aching and his throat felt like it had been stuffed with cotton; every muscle ached, and every bone seared with pain when he tried to move.

He heard the scabs crack when he tried to move his arm, and resigned himself to staying still for the moment as he looked around the all too familiar room; the off-white walls, the dark coloured bedding, the familiar smell of smoke and energy drinks.

He knew these walls well, and could feel himself relax a little bit when he came to realise where he was, trying his best to remember the events that had lead him there, in that all too familiar bed; he swallowed thickly, his throat and chest itching and his side aching from the harsh coughing.

The last thing he remembered was ringing his boyfriend, desperate and bleeding, after he had gotten himself into a gunfight; of all the places in the world, it had been Bastogne, where he and his boyfriend had gotten into just a little bit more than a good amount of trouble. He couldn’t remember more than that, and he was in too much pain and too tired to even try and force himself to. 

The footsteps that he heard nearby didn’t make him flinch, so familiar to his trained ear that he even dared to crack a smile, which did little more than cause the splits in his lips to crack open, blood starting to trickle down to his chin.

He struggled to sit up, but his ribs screamed in protest, and the scabs on his arms started to weep once more, so he huffed, and crashed back down against the soft pillows as he listened carefully; when he caught you out of the corner of his eye, he smiled a little more, and coughed weakly as he attempted to clear his throat.

His jaw stung him in the process.

Faintly, Six could smell coffee lingering on you, and he could tell from your jogging bottoms and t-shirt that you didn’t care much that he was in your bed; it was easy for him to deduce that you had stayed up to look after him, and although he had been mercilessly trained against such a thing, Six couldn’t help but to feel a pang of guilt course through his stomach and chest as he realised that you had not strayed too far from his side since bringing him home - maybe even earlier, probably much earlier than that.

He frowned.

“That’s twice now,” you hummed, sitting by his knees as you laid your hand on his leg softly. “Both times in Bastogne.”

Six rolled his eyes. How could he forget the first time? You always brought it up, always made him promise that whatever mission he was sent on would not be like Bastogne, that it would be different and that he wouldn’t make the same mistakes that he had back then.

Shame that the one time he fucked up again since, it just so happened to be in the same place.

“Hey, hey, look at me! Look at me!” You clicked your fingers, grabbing his attention. “Twice.”

“Shut up,” he coughed. 

You smiled, gently tapping his leg as you removed the blanket from him and examined the various stitches, bandages and plasters that nearly coated his entire body. “You’re lucky to be alive, Six. If you hadn’t… if you hadn’t called me when you did…”

“What happened?”

You shrugged. “You said you’d been in a gunfight, that you’d been injured, so I came running. I found you passed out by some bins, so I grabbed you, brought you back here - then I called Ritabhari.”

“Did she fix me?”

“She fixed you,” you nodded, scratching your eyebrow as you frowned. “She told me to keep an eye on you, though. Said you might get sepsis if them wounds aren’t cleaned out.”

Six huffed, shaking his head as he cleared his throat and attempted to sit upright again, but you softly pushed him back down, shaking your head at him as you frowned; it wasn’t that Six minded being near you, it wasn’t that he didn’t want you to see him hurt, but he was acutely aware that if people had seen you pick him up, then it was likely that they could easily track you down.

The last thing that Six wanted was to see his boyfriend get hurt because of him, and as achy and sore and bleeding as he was, he still had the instinct to sweep the grounds and to make sure that there weren’t any threats lurking in bushes or up trees or even in unused cupboards; every fibre of his being was telling him to get up and to move, to make sure that you were safe but… but you looked so worried, and he managed to calm the instinct as he went limp and nodded slowly.

“I know you want to protect me,” you started, “and I know you’re worried but you have to trust me when I say this: you are in no shape to do fuck all right now except rest. I love you, Six, and I’m gonna look after you - but you gotta rest. Please.”

How could he say no?

How could he bring himself to worry you even further when he could see it in your eyes that you were already so overwhelmed?

So he frowned, and he swallowed thickly as he let out a rasping and rattling breath that only made his throat and chest itch even more; but he had to speak, even if it hurt him, he had to speak.

“Okay.”

“Do you need anything?” You asked, getting up and pulling the blanket back over him, making sure that it was nice and snug. “Hungry? Thirsty? Bored?”

“Hungry,” Six grumbled.

“Soup and bread alright?” You laughed softly as you looked away for a second. “I haven’t had a chance to go to the shops for something better yet but uh… I’ll ask Albert if he can go - if you’ll help me make a list?”

“Sure,” he rasped out. “Soup and bread is fine.”

[fknmoonmoon]

The Gray Man

All You Have to do is Stay - in progress

[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.

[ken-dom]

currently thinking about six (maybe reader and him live together, he still goes on missions though) and maybe they've only slept together a handful of times, and one night the reader's just really in the mood but doesn't know how to ask for it/doesn't wanna be a bother, but since six is trained to pick up on the smallest shifts in someones behavior/energy, he kinda figures it out? just pure dominance i guess 🤯

Anon, I am SO sorry it's taken me forever to get to this ask! I wanted to give it some thought because it sounded so delicious, and I'm not sure why but tonight I just felt in a Sixy mood and a little imagine spilled out. I hope you enjoy it!

Sense

∘₊✧ Sierra Six x gn!reader drabble ∘₊✧ 300+ words

∘₊✧ NSFW, kissing, teasing, very soft dom Six vibes, suggestive but not explicit

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

One moment, you're sitting on the sofa watching a movie tucked safe beneath Six's arm wondering if that’s his eyes you can feel on you, the next he's flipped you onto your back, the weight of his body on yours both comforting and exciting.

'Yeah?' he asks simply, raising an eyebrow, his eyes gazing into yours expectantly.

'Yeah!- I mean... yeah, but, how did you- you- hmmnn....'

Six simply chuckles at your eager questioning, which quickly declines into a low whine as he leans down and places a gentle kiss to your throat, feeling you squirm beneath him as your fingertips drive hard into his shoulders.

'Because,' he slurs, hot and wet against your skin, 'I could sense it.'

He rolls his hips, his heavy, hard cock dragging deliciously over your aching core through far too many layers of fabric.

You moan, loud, and he huffs out another satisfied laugh.

'You could sense it?' you manage, voice and breath shaky.

'Is there nothing that will keep you quiet for even a minute?' he shakes his head, smiling to himself as he pulls up to press his lips to yours instead.

His hair falls over down over his face and it makes him even sexier somehow. He catches you checking him out and averts his gaze, bashful at how much you desire him, focussing back on answering your burning questions.

'And yeah, I can sense it. I'm trained to pick up on the slightest shift in a room, mood included. My best guess is that you're feeling horny, and, no offence, baby, but you're hardly subtle with that at the best of times.'

You slap at his shoulder playfully, scrunching your face up in mock annoyance.

'So, I can almost always tell when you want me even when you have no idea how to ask. But what I can't do is read your mind. So...' Six's voice turns husky and he licks his lips as his eyes rake over your clothed form. 'Where do you want me to start?'

[elusivewildflower]

Wide Open Spaces | Cowboy!Court x F!Reader

Pairing: Cowboy!Court Gentry x F!Reader

Summary: After ending your five-year relationship, you find out your beloved Aunt left you her small Ranch out in the country. Desperate to get away from the city, you happily up and move several states away for a fresh start. What happens when you find out your new neighbor is a hot single dad? (Court and Claire have taken on their new life of father & daughter after the events of the movie and settled down on a ranch.)

Warnings: Court being a sexy Cowboy, Claire meddling in Court's love life, and mentions of a deceased family member.

Word Count: 4k

A/N: I haven't posted anything in FOREVER, and honestly....I have missed it. The new photos of Ryan have inspired me to write a fic (that will probably turn into a series) about Cowboy Court. I hope you all love this as much as I enjoyed writing it!!

As you stepped out of your car, you sucked in a deep breath of fresh air. It was so much different than the city air you had been breathing for the last five years. There was none of the usual exhaust fumes, cigarette smoke, and the lingering smell of fast food from two blocks away here. You cast your gaze over the home your aunt had left you when she passed. It had been years since you’d been here, and it looked like it had been quite a while since anyone had. The house wasn’t in total disrepair, but it was clear that no one had lived here in the three years your aunt was in assisted living. The wooden steps beneath your feet creaked as you climbed them, the railing wobbly when you placed your hand on it. Your nose scrunched in disgust as you had to bat away a few cobwebs, thankful that there weren’t any spiders on them at the time. You dug your new set of keys out from your purse and pushed it into the lock. A smile crept across your face as the lock twisted easily, but when you simply pushed on the door to open, it wouldn’t budge. 

After putting all of your weight against the door, you nearly barreled through it into your aunt’s foyer. Well, you supposed it was yours now. As you maneuvered into the living room, a sneeze overcame you. Wow, you were going to have to put dusting at the top of your list. All of your aunt’s furniture sat right where she left it, just coated in a heavy layer of dust. The style wasn’t exactly to your taste, but it was better than having nothing. Sure, you had some furniture back in the city, but it was easier just to leave it there. Those pieces held too many memories that you wanted to forget, and it made it easier to move several states away without any help. After all, with your aunt gone now, all you had was, well, you. 

As you explored the house, grimacing at the state of a few rooms, you found yourself back in the kitchen. It was going to be difficult, but this fresh start was exactly what you needed.  Leaning yourself against the sink, you gazed out the window in front of you. Your aunt’s land wasn’t ginormous by any means, but there was a stable for horses, a small barn, and plenty of fenced in yard. In the distance, you could see a man on a horse. You assumed that must be your new neighbor. He was too far away to notice much, but the cowboy hat on his head and tan leather jacket that covered his broad shoulders was enough to intrigue you. The sudden sound of a knock on your door pulled you from your staring. 

“I’m coming,” you called out as you made your way back to the foyer. You certainly weren’t expecting any visitors, but you figured it was probably the wife of the man you had just been ogling from a distance. However, when you opened the door, you were greeted by a girl who looked no older than sixteen. 

“Uh, hello,” you greeted. 

A wide smile was spread across the girl’s face. “Hi! I’m Claire, your new neighbor.” She gestured towards the land besides yours, and for the first time you noticed the plate of cookies in her hand. “Can I come in? I made these for you.” 

You let a smile grace your features as you nodded and took a step back. “Of course, come on in.” As Claire stepped into your home, you felt the need to apologize for the state of it. “I’m sorry it’s such a mess.” You began as you led her towards the kitchen. 

Claire shook her head, cutting you off. “No, it’s okay. No one’s been here in years.” She glanced around as she followed you. “I actually met your aunt right before she went into assisted living about three years ago.” She admitted. “She was a really nice lady.” 

You nodded your head solemnly as you thought of your recently deceased family member. “Yeah, she was.” A wave of guilt washed over you as you wished you had visited her more often, or you know, at all. But, you were busy living your life and always put it off.....You called her monthly, sometimes weekly, but you never stepped foot onto a plane to come and visit. You always thought you’d have more time. Sadly, you’ve found out that isn’t how life works. 

It was like Claire felt the shift in you and decided to talk about something else. “It’s nice to have a new neighbor. It gets lonely out here sometimes.” 

That caught your attention. Surely, a girl her age must have friends. You furrowed your brows as you looked her over. “Lonely? How so?” 

Claire set the plate of cookies down on the dusty counter. You made a mental note that you really needed to get started on cleaning. The younger girl then shrugged her shoulders. “Well, it’s just me and my dad, and he’s fairly protective. I’m homeschooled, so I don’t get out much.” She admitted. 

A frown pulled at the corner of your lips. “Mm, I suppose father’s are always good at that, aren’t they?” You questioned rhetorically as you thought of your own father. Vaguely recalling when you were her age and how your father wouldn’t let you stay out past nine o’clock. 

Claire nodded in agreement as she absentmindedly brushed a finger across the countertop. “Is it just you moving in?” She asked curiously, her head tilting to the side as she eyed you over. 

Something about the look in her eyes made you a bit uneasy, like she was sizing you up. Whatever for, you had no clue. You shifted your weight onto your other leg as you nod. “Yeah, just me. My aunt was the only family I had left, and, uh, I’m newly single.” You explained very briefly. 

“Newly?” Claire prodded on that last piece of information you gave. 

You blew out a puff of air. Did you really need to be telling your sob story to a sixteen year old? You were silent for a moment as you contemplated. The look in her eyes made her seem older, and she had been nice thus far. What did it hurt? Other than perhaps your ego for your first new friend being a teenager. 

“Uh, yeah. I found out my boyfriend of five years had been cheating on me, shortly after I learned about the death of my aunt.” Shrugging your shoulders, you continued. “So, I packed up everything that truly mattered, and I came here.” 

Claire scrunched up her nose in disgust. “Ugh, men.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at that response. “My thoughts exactly.” You agreed with a heavy sigh. 

Claire looked around the room for a moment before something in the window caught her eye. “Well, I’ll leave you to unpack. If you need any help, just give me a call, yeah? And if you need help with repairs, my dad had to fix a lot of stuff when we first moved into our house. I’m sure he can help.” She extended the offer as she pulled out her phone and asked for your number. Once your contact was safely in her phone and she had sent you a text, she let herself out of your back door. 

You moved to the sink and watched as she wandered off towards what must have caught her eye. The man you had seen earlier, her father, was at the edge of your property on his horse, staring at your house. That is, until he spotted Claire and his head turned to acknowledge her. You couldn’t tell what they were saying, but the tanned man in the cowboy hat gave your house one last look as Claire hopped up onto the horse to join him before riding off towards their home. 

Once they were out of your sight, you turned to face the disaster of a house you now owned and heaved a sigh. It was time to start hauling all of your things in and pick a room upstairs to call your own. Then, you would get started on dusting. 

Morning came all too soon for you after staying up late last night dusting every inch of the house. But, at least you wouldn’t have a sneezing fit every time you entered a room anymore. It really wasn’t all that early, but with the long days of travel, emotional and physical baggage you’d been carrying, you felt as if you could sleep all day. However, you had too much work to do for that. So, you pulled yourself from bed and got dressed into some casual clothing. A white tank top and denim shorts, something to keep you cool while you clean. 

After taking care of getting yourself ready, you made your way down to the kitchen. Sadly, your aunt didn’t even have an old-fashioned coffee pot and you begrudgingly accepted that you would have to make due without any caffeine. This wasn’t the city, and there was no easy way to doordash your morning fix. You heaved a sigh and made your way to the kitchen sink, intending to twist the knob and turn on warm water. But, it was stuck. You sighed again in frustration, wondering how many things in this house were going to require more strength than you possessed in order to work. You beared down harder on the knob, and felt a streak of pride as it finally turned. That is, until the knob came off right in your hand. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” You stared at the handle in disbelief for a moment before the sound of rushing water reached your ears. Dumbfounded, you stared at the faucet. There wasn’t any water coming from it. Where was it…? Oh no. 

Realization hit as you hurriedly bent down to rip open the cabinet beneath the sink. There was water gushing from….somewhere. You weren’t a plumber and without caffeine your brain still felt like mush. You cursed, several times actually, and then began to panic. You tried twisting the other knob to the sink, but it did absolutely nothing. At least it didn’t break off like the other, though. You had no idea where the water shut-off valve was in the house and you stood helplessly as you watched your kitchen floor begin to flood. 

Come on, do something! You thought to yourself, trying to come up with a plan. Towels. Finally, there was an idea. Surely your aunt had to have a spare linen closet around here, right? You frantically searched for one until you found it near the mud room, grabbing as many linens as you could carry and rushing back to the kitchen. Unfortunately, the water had spread since you had left, and you slipped, landing on the hard linoleum floor. The towels you were carrying also fell, at least beginning to soak up the water. As you slowly rose to your feet, your white tank top and shorts now soaked, you realized the towels were hardly helping the problem. Grabbing your phone, you called the only person you could think of. 

Claire. 

It was answered on the second ring. “Hello?” Came the familiar voice of the girl you had met just yesterday. 

“Claire!” You exclaimed in relief. “Do you know any plumbers? I think a pipe burst in my kitchen sink and it’s gushing water and I have no idea where the shut-off is.” You rambled out frantically. 

“I’ll go get my dad, he’ll be right there!” 

You shook your head, that wasn’t what you had asked. “No, wait–” you began to protest, but the girl had already hung up. 

Claire must work fast, because you swore it was only a matter of minutes before you heard a knock at your front door. Your feet carried you as fast as you could without slipping on the hardwood floors of the house. You were going to have to throw your shoes outside to dry after this. As you slung open the front door, you stopped in your tracks. 

Wow. You knew Claire’s father was handsome even from a distance, but you didn’t expect him to be this handsome. He was a bit older than you, but he had to be, to have a daughter that was Claire’s age. The only thing that gave away his age, though, were the fine lines he had begun to develop on his brow and around his eyes. His short, blonde, hair was messy without a single strand of gray insight. He must’ve come from working in the yard because his white t-shirt that fit him perfectly was slightly dirty, his arms and face were covered in a bit of dirt and dust, along with a thin sheen of sweat. As your eyes trailed down his form, you noticed the toolbelt he wore around his waist, and the new pipe that he held in his tattooed hand. You only caught a glimpse of his brown cowboy boots before he cleared his throat to gain your attention. Shit, had you really been staring for that long? 

You rose your eyes to meet his keen blue ones as you felt heat rush to your cheeks. He was staring directly at your face. Maybe, if you hadn’t been so distracted, you might’ve noticed it was because your top was completely see-through from being soaked. 

“I, uh, heard you’ve got a leak?” His smooth voice graced your ears, and successfully pulled you back to the issue at hand. 

You moved away from the door so that he could enter, gesturing for him to come inside. “Yes, a big one,” you answered hurriedly. As he stepped inside, you saw his horse waiting for him in your front lawn. Ah, that was how he got here so quickly. 

You didn’t need to show him where the kitchen was. He either was smart enough to have an idea, as you assumed all of the old houses out here were set up similarly, or he followed the sound of water. He let out a curse under his breath as he saw what he was faced with. “Yeah, that’s a big one alright,” he agreed with your earlier sentiment before dropping down to his knees and immediately getting to work. 

Within seconds, his tee was completely soaked like yours. But, it didn’t seem to bother him. His hands were moving faster than you could comprehend, using his pure strength to unscrew the pipe that was broken so that he could get the new one installed. He let out a few grunts as he worked, and all you could do was lean yourself against the island and watch. The muscles in his arms bulged as he exerted his strength against the pipe. His slightly tanned skin was on full display now that his shirt was transparent, and you could even make out a bit of the tattoo he had on his chest. Your eyes happily drank in the sight of his chiseled torso. At this moment, you were almost thanking your ex for cheating on you and your aunt for leaving you this house because without all of those things coming together, you would’ve never been able to experience this. An attractive, hard working man at work. Your eyes drifted from his torso to take in the gruesome scar he had on his left arm, curious to know how that came to be. 

What felt like an hour to your daydreaming self, was really only a matter of minutes before Claire’s father had your leak fixed. Or, at least, one of them. You couldn’t help but realize the sight before you, and the grunting sounds he let out whilst working, had awakened something within. Something you hadn’t felt in a long time. And you didn’t even know his name. 

Movement pulled you from your thoughts, and you realized that he was coming out from underneath the sink. You had to act as if you hadn’t been gawking at him this entire time, and instead stared at the floor that was covered in soaked towels. The sound of running water pulled your attention back to the sink, and you found that he was also staring at the faucet that was still running. Right, the knob broke too. 

He gave a nod as he realized the next issue. “Right, well at least it’s not flooding your kitchen anymore.” He turned his head to look at you briefly before looking back to the faucet. “I probably have a spare around, if not, I’ll run out and grab one.” He explained with a simple shrug of his shoulders. 

You were quick to shake your head. “You don’t need to do that,” you began. “I can run out to the store and grab one.” You glanced down at yourself, finally realizing that you had put on a hot pink bra this morning and your still-soaked tank was completely transparent. “....Right after I change.” You felt heat creep up your neck once more as embarrassment overcame you. 

When you glanced back over at him, he was quick to avert his eyes. “Really, I don’t mind. Your aunt was very nice to Claire and I when we first moved in. She personally made us about a week’s worth of food, I think.” He explained, letting out a chuckle. 

You bit down on your bottom lip. That certainly sounded like something your aunt would do, and if this attractive man wanted to help you as a repayment, then you supposed you could oblige. “Fine, I’ll accept your help. On one condition.” You paused, watching as he rose a brow at you, urging for you to go on. “You tell me your name so I don’t have to call you Claire’s father.” You finished with a grin. 

A smile of his own crossed his features and those wrinkles in the corner of his eyes deepened. “You can call me Court.” 

“Thank you, Court, for saving my entire house from being flooded.” You spoke with a laugh as you looked down at your kitchen floor. 

“I’m just sorry I couldn’t stop it before the kitchen flooded,” he responded. “Speaking of, do you wanna go get changed and I’ll help you clean up before I fix the faucet?” 

You glanced down at yourself once more, and with a moment of confidence, you shook your head. “No, I’m sure you’ve already seen it, so what does it matter?” You asked rhetorically. “Besides, it wouldn’t really be fair for only one of us to be wet, now would it?” 

Court paused to look at you, seemingly analyzing your choice of words. You watched as his eyes flashed down to your chest before he shook his head. “I suppose not.” He spoke, moving to pick up the water-logged towels on the floor. 

A few minutes into picking up the strewn about linens and you heard Court curse.

 “Shit.” 

You turned to look at him, worry in your brow. “What?” You questioned. 

“A piece of your linoleum was lifted up, water got all underneath.” There was a pause. “I’m gonna have to replace your floor.” 

“Shit,” you echoed. 

“Yeah. I’ll do it tomorrow.” He stated nonchalantly. 

You stopped in your tracks. Here this man was, a stranger, really, volunteering to spend a day replacing your flooring? “Court, really, you don’t have to. I can hire someone to fix it.” 

Court shook his head. “It’s not a problem. Like I said, your aunt was a nice lady.” 

“She was so nice that you’d spend an entire day of labor replacing her niece’s kitchen floor?” You asked in disbelief. If this were the city, you’d never find a man offering to replace your flooring for free. 

Turning his head to finally look at you, Court smirked. “For her niece that’s as pretty as you? Yeah, I’d do a lot of things.” 

Any retort you could think of making died on your tongue and Court went back to picking up linens with that smug smirk on his face. You felt as if your brain had short-circuited. Did he just flirt with you? After a moment, you shook yourself out of your stupor and resumed picking up the towels. 

The two of you carried your heaping piles of soaked towels to the mud room, where you began loading up the washer. As Court stood there watching you, you turned towards him. 

“Can I at least make you and Claire dinner tonight to show thanks?” You canted your head as you awaited his response.

Court’s tongue darted across his lower lip. “I’ll allow it.” He agreed with a nod, then motioned towards the hallway with his head. “I’ll be back soon to fix your faucet, alright?” 

You nodded, watching as he turned and left. After you heard your front door close shut, you placed your head in your hands. Your life felt like an absolute train wreck at the moment, but somehow you knew it was only going to get better. Your aunt always swore moving out here would be better for you than your life in the city. You didn’t used to believe her, but after today? You were starting to realize she might’ve been right.

Now, you need to plan for dinner. Fuck. Why didn’t you ask him what his favorite food was? You have no idea what to make. Slapping yourself on the forehead, you let out a groan before making your way up to your bedroom to get changed. 

“Easy, girl.” Court called to his horse as he pulled on the reins. She slowed her trot to a halt by his house, allowing him to slip off from the saddle. As he made his way inside of the home, his thoughts solely on the new girl next door, Claire was waiting for him. 

“So, did you fix her sink?” She asked, startling him from his thoughts. 

Jesus, he thought. He was really losing some of his skills if he let Claire startle him over a woman. He clicked his teeth and nodded, trying not to seem interested. The last thing he needed was Claire meddling in his love life. He’d been lucky thus far by keeping her home so often that she never met anyone she could set him up with. But that never stopped her from constantly suggesting it.

“Yeah, mostly. I stopped the leak, but a knob is broken and I need to replace it. Some water got under her flooring.” He explained as he moved towards his bedroom to find dry clothing. “I’ll have to replace that tomorrow.” 

Claire followed right behind him, the idea of personal space diminishing over the years they had lived together. She wouldn’t enter his room if he was changing, but she’d be right outside of the door, continuing the conversation she started. 

“So, you’ll be seeing her again tomorrow?” Claire wondered aloud. There was something in her tone of voice that set off alarms in Court’s head. But he tried to ignore it. If he called her out on it too soon….

“Yeah, and she’s making us dinner tonight.” He added on with a huff as he stripped himself of his shirt and pants. Then began rummaging around for new ones in his closet. 

“That’s great! I knew you’d like her.” She called smugly from the other side of the door. 

Court’s brows furrowed as he tossed his new shirt over his torso and closed the distance between him and the door. He opened it wide enough to peek his head out and level his gaze with Claire. 

“Who said anything about liking her? She’s doing it as a thank you.” 

Claire stared blankly up at him. “But she’s pretty, isn’t she?” She questioned, as if that were the only important matter.

Court didn’t respond. He simply shook his head at her antics and shut the door in her face. He wasn’t giving her the satisfaction of the truth. 

“Deny it all you want, but you just wait! You’ll be telling me I’m right before long.” She called out teasingly as Court retreated further into his room to put on pants. 

God help him with that girl. She wasn’t going to rest until she was right. For once though, he might not have much of a problem with that.

[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.

[hederasgarden]

Safe With Me

Summary: Six is a hard man to read up until the moment he isn’t.

Paring: Sierra Six (Court Gentry) x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.7K

Rating: Mature, 18+ only. AU, violence, blood, angst, whumpage, death and some sexual content.

A/N: If this gets a good response I will write a sequel that takes place during the movie. Please note the reader has been Claire’s caretaker since her first surgery and is in her early 30s. The story is based on this ask. Thank you N and a @a-reader-and-a-writer for beta'ing and @skvatnavle for the title.

When Six comes into your lives, you’re not sure what to make of him. He’s clearly CIA-adjacent like Fitz – or some other alphabet agency– though he has none of the easy warmth of Claire's uncle. Just his quick sense of humor, but even that comes out sparingly, often startling a laugh from you. Claire takes to him quickly, poking and prodding at his cool exterior until you begin to see little cracks in it. Small glimpses of the man beneath the protector.

Once you notice the little tells, it becomes easier to catch them. Like the soft way he looks at Claire when she’s singing along to a record or the way his lips twitch up into a brief smile every time you remember his favorite pastry from the bakery. It’s apparent in the way his hand always rests at the small of your back when you’re out in public together, guiding you along as Claire tugs excitedly at your arm. You see it in the way he keeps himself as a buffer between the two of you and other people.

It’s how you know his nightly check-in at bedtime isn't just about following security protocol. Seeing you both safely tucked into bed for the night seems to ease some of the tension he carries. Most times the two of you don’t speak, he just pokes his head in and nods, giving you that awkward little grimace he probably thinks is a smile. Claire is another story, you can normally hear her excited little voice asking Six a hundred different questions that he patiently answers.

Tonight you’re in bed early, a warm cup of tea and a book in your hand. You thumb through the pages while you wait for him to come say good night, unable to rest until this part of your routine is complete. The clock on your bedside ticks steadily forward until it’s 9:05. Six is always prompt and when he doesn't show you grow concerned, venturing out to find him. You don’t make it far before a gloved hand covers your mouth and an arm snakes around your stomach. You’re pulled back against a solid wall of muscle.

“Tell us where the girl is,” comes the gravelly demand.

In your panicked state you thrash around, jerking your head back. Pain explodes along your skull and the man groans, releasing you. When you look back, you see blood pouring from his broken nose. You scramble away from him and scream for Six but the man catches you quickly. He forces you on your back and your head snaps to the side with the force of the first blow. You lay there stunned, with the taste of pennies in your mouth. You've never been hit before or purposely hurt like this and the ugly surprise of it is almost worse than the pain.

Tears well up and you breathe in wetly, blood escaping from your split lip down your chin. The man stares at you and even though the mask hides most of his face the anger in his gaze is unmistakable. Before you can recover he hauls you to your feet and throws you roughly against the wall, demanding you take him to Claire.

"No," you croak. He strikes you a second time and you flinch. God you hope Claire made it to the panic room. The thought of this man touching her makes your stomach roll. You close your eyes when he asks you again, waiting for another blow to come but nothing happens. When you hear the audible click of a gun’s safety your eyes shoot open. The man in front of you freezes.

He’s quick to recover, turning around and bringing you in front of him as a shield. You blink rapidly to clear your tears, relief surging through your body at the sight of Six. He looks a little worse for wear, a wound on his arm bleeding sluggishly and a gash on his side. To your surprise, he doesn’t address the man but looks right at you.

“You alright?” He asks.

You're not, but you nod anyway.

“Where’s the girl? Take me to her or I’ll kill this one,” the man demands, pressing a knife to your throat.

You whimper and Six’s lips thin, a muscle in his jaw jumping. Still, he doesn’t look at the man, speaking to you again. “Did he do that to you?” Six asks, motioning to your face.

“Yes.”

“Take me to the girl,” the man growls.

You jerk in his arms when you feel the blade split the skin of your throat. Six takes a step forward but stills, watching you for a long moment before he shifts his attention to the man behind you.

“I want you to know. I was going to leave one of you alive. The CIA loves to interrogate you assholes… but you touched her. That was a mistake,” he says, his voice cold and even. When he speaks again he’s still watching the man though you know he’s addressing you. “Close your eyes.”

You squeeze them shut, holding your breath. There’s no hiding what Six means to do and even though you know it’s coming you still flinch at the sound of the gun and the hollow thump of the man’s body hitting the floor behind you. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you feel Six’s touch on the side of your neck.

At his coaxing, your eyes flutter open, and you stare at his bloodied face. You can’t stop your hands from shaking and when your lips part no sound comes out. Some part of you knows you’re in shock, but you can’t make your body cooperate. It’s a struggle to breathe.

“It’s alright, take a breath,” Six instructs, cradling the uninjured side of your face in his hand. You inhale through your nose as he continues to watch you, nodding encouragingly until you're breathing normally.

"Six," you whisper, grasping his shirt.

“How are you doing, hen?” He questions, the use of his terrible nickname for you startling a laugh from you. Mother hen. For the way you tended to follow Claire around the house, fussing over her even when she tried to wave you off. “Should we go check on our little chick?” He asks.

“Where is she? Did they-” you start.

Six is quick to reassure you. “She went straight to the safe room just like I taught her. She’s okay,” he promises.

He offers you his hand and you take it, letting him fold you into his side. The smell of blood and cordite burns your nose but underneath is the familiar scent of Six’s cologne. It helps calm you, grounding you to him until you turn the corner.

“Don’t look,” he instructs, a hand on the back of your head urging you to press your face into his chest.

You only catch the briefest look at the carnage in the living room, thankful for the way Six shields you from it. He guides you along the hallway and you don’t open your eyes until he tells you to. The thick door to the safe room slides open and you smile in relief at the sight of Claire, lamp raised and a fierce expression on her face.

As soon as she sees you, she drops it and rushes into your arms. She touches your face so gently and cries, turning even more upset when she sees the state of Six. It takes both of you nearly an hour to get her calm enough to sleep. Even then you can tell it’s a fitful slumber, her little face scrunched up in concern. You stay with her, stroking her back while Six leaves to deal with whoever he called to clean up the mess in the living room.

You’re thankful nothing happened to her but it scares you how close those men got. If they’d gotten their hands on her… You shake your head, not wanting to think about that.

“Hen.”

You turn around at the sound of Six’s soft voice, finding him leaning against the doorframe. Even though he’s cleaned the blood from his face you can still see the gray shirt clinging to his side.

“We should get you cleaned up,” you say concerned.

“That’s my line,” he tells you, brow raised. “Come on, she’ll be safe. I got three guys in the house and another four outside. No one is getting in.”

You follow him into the hall, letting him lead you to the spare bathroom. He shuts the door behind him and you turn towards the sink, flinching at the state of your face. You raise a trembling hand to your lip. Six stops you with a gentle grip on your wrist.

“Did he get you anywhere else?” He asks, looking you over critically.

“Just the face.”

“So nowhere important, huh?” He questions, making you laugh and then wince when the action tugs on your split lip. “Hop up,” he directs, tapping the counter.

When you struggle to do as he asks, a disconnect between your mind and body still, Six helps you. He grasps your hips and hefts you up with a surprising amount of gentleness. You look up, your face close to his. He squeezes your hips and steps away, bending down to take out supplies from a little bin under the sink you never realized was there.

You clear your throat and curl your fingers into the fabric of your PJs. Now that things have calmed, pain filters in through your scattered nerves.

“You a doctor now?” You ask.

“No but I play one on TV,” he replies without missing a beat, rising back to his full height.

He stands between your legs and pulls on a pair of gloves. His touch is gentle as he slowly cleans your face and treats the wound on your neck. Your eyes fall closed at the feel of his fingers tracing the cut on your throat, spreading a cool, numbing cream over the angry line. He does the same to your lip and it helps take the sting out of it. After he removes the gloves, he runs his fingers over the rest of your face, applying gentle pressure at different points. You know he’s looking for fractures or breaks. Outside of the underside of your jaw being tender to the touch, you’re mostly okay.

“It’s not a lollipop,” he warns, dropping two little pills into your hand, “but they’ll help with the pain.”

“What about you?” You question.

He shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. You’re still bleeding.”

“It’s not my blood,” he tells you.

“Oh.” You fall quiet and look up at him.

He turns away from you, listening to something outside the door and you look at his face in profile. You can see the faint beginnings of bruises on his cheek and jaw and there’s a patch of dried blood at his temple. Your eyes wander down his chest, cataloging what looks like a knife wound on his right pec and another down his left side. Hesitantly, you reach out and touch him.

Six grunts, eyes closing briefly. “Well, maybe a little bit is mine,” he admits.

“Let me help you.”

“Not to sound dramatic but it’s not the first time I’ve stitched myself up,” he tells you.

“Please, I…” You trail off, close to tears again.

“What’s wrong?” He asks quietly.

You don’t know how to explain that even though he may trust the men outside, you only trust him. You don’t want to be alone. He makes you feel safe, his presence the only thing keeping you from unraveling. It was easy to hold it together for Claire but now that it’s just the two of you there’s nothing to distract from how close those men got to her or what they did to you.

Six says nothing but he doesn’t have to, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around your shoulders carefully. You sob when he hugs you close, twisting the fabric of his shirt in your finger as your body shakes. He rests his chin on your head and drags his hand up and down your back soothingly. The tears don’t last long, not with him holding and comforting you.

A small part of you thinks Six needs it too. You hear him breathe out and some of the tension leaves his body. He cares a lot for you and Claire. It’s why the two of you make an effort in your own ways to make him feel a part of your little family and cared for. To know he’s worthy of that affection. Eventually, Six pulls away, smoothing a large hand over the back of your head and down to your shoulder, squeezing it.

“Alright, your turn to play doctor,” he says, reaching back to tug his shirt off.

You can’t help the small sound that escapes your mouth at the sight of his scarred body. He doesn’t react to your response, staring steadily at a point beyond your head. His right arm is the worst, deep scars mangling his tan skin but it seems like everywhere you look there’s more damage to find. Underneath your concern is another feeling, one you try to ignore because now is not the time for your body to recognize just how good he looks without a shirt.

“None of these look too deep,” you say, taking the pair of gloves he hands you and getting to work cleaning and bandaging his wounds.

You carefully avoid the gun on his hip, looking up every so often to see his face. His expression is blank, and he doesn’t react to your touch even though you know it must be painful. You want to ask him what really happened tonight, but you know he’d only give you a glib answer. After you’re finished Six inspects your work. He gives you a thumbs up and smiles.

“Not half bad, doc.”

You grin back and stare up at him, breath catching when his eyes dip to your lips momentarily. The expression on his face is uncharacteristically soft and vulnerable. You feel an answer tug in your own heart and slowly reach to touch the side of his face. Even though he’s still a mystery to you in a lot of ways you know him well enough to understand he would never make the first move. Too driven by some internal moral compass.

“Six,” you whisper, tilting your head up to invite him in.

There’s only a flicker of hesitation before he’s kissing you, a hand on your hip drawing you close to his body. He groans and you respond with a little gasp of your own when he pushes you back, your head bumping against the cold mirror. Your lips part for his tongue, a brief flare of pain from the cut there but it fades quickly when his hands cup your face. His scent and taste surround you and your body responds.

You grab his shoulder, wanting him closer and he grunts, pulling away. Pain clouds his eyes and your brows raise in concern.

“Six…”

He shakes his head and steps back, rolling his shoulder with a grimace. The air between you shifts, whatever softness he allowed to the surface dissolving as he steps away.

“You should go check on Claire,” he says.

“Alright,” you agree, letting him help you down from the counter. His hand lingers only for a moment.

He follows you down the hall to Claire’s room, hovering in the doorway as you climb carefully into bed with her. She stirs, blinking sleepily and reaching for you. When she says your name softly you assure her everything is ok, curling your body around her smaller one. She grasps your hand tightly against her chest and sighs, falling still. Six turns to leave and you call out to him quietly.

"Stay. Claire will feel better if you're close by," you lie. "She'll want to see you when she wakes up."

He nods and takes up a vigil in the brightly colored chair in the corner of her room. You lay your head on the pillow, the back of Claire’s head obscuring his figure from you. You don’t need to see him to feel safe. You know Six will always protect you and Claire.

Taglist: @wildbornsiren, @a-reader-and-a-writer and @blue-aconite.

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[georgiapeach30513]

You Were the One, Part 9

Summary:  The final goodbye

Pairings:  Court Gentry X Reader

Rating:  Explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, PIV sex, cream pie, biting, mentions of a miscarriage, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  3.2K

Previous

Series Masterlist

You stare disgruntled at your office. Things weren’t set up right, and things weren’t even plugged in and operating. You knew the two months leave was a bit extreme, but being able to work remotely kept you busy. But it was time to come back.

Taking a deep breath, you try and calm yourself, before the first task of getting everything in order commenced. Excited that this could take a couple of hours, and it was a perfect excuse to stay holed up here.

You pause looking at the now annoying picture of you, and Court. Pissed off that someone thought it was okay to bring this into your work sanctuary. Grabbing it up you slam it into the garbage. Unexpectedly, your thumb traces over your ring finger, and you have to sigh. Today was going to be a long day.

Natasha walks into her partner’s office, and slumps down in a seat in front of him. His eyes vacant as he stares out into a void. Never acknowledging that Nat was even there, until she kicks up her leg on his desk.

“Feet off my desk.”

“That quirk is still there, I see,” his vision turns to glare at her, annoyed that she made any comparison to you. “Don’t give me that look, you owe me.”

“I told you I was sorry. Have you heard from her?”

“No, and why would I? You told her you came to my house to have sex. The same night you found out she was pregnant. Gee, I wonder why she’s pissed off at the both of us? She separated herself from us.”

“If it wasn’t for Lloyd.”

“So, you didn’t do anything wrong? Six, we’re partners, but I’d like to think we’re also friends. I told you to go home because she needed you. I told you to quit sulking, and deal with the consequences of your actions, and you never did. It’s almost like you wanted this outcome, and now you’re sitting in your office sulking.”

“I didn’t do this on purpose,” he fumbles around in a drawer until pulling out a pack of bubble gum, and stuffing it in his mouth. “I never wanted her to hate me.”

“Let’s see, you told her you didn’t want kids even though she was pregnant, you accused her of having an affair, you left her the day you found out she was pregnant, after a mission where Lloyd jumped in front of her to save the baby. The day that she was in the hospital, you had no nice words to say to her, and you told her you were having an affair with your partner, and her friend. I wonder why she hates you. You can sit there and blame Lloyd for your mistakes, or you could thank him for what he’s done for her. Keeping her alive.”

Court huffs our air, but also nods his head, “You’re right. You always are. I felt like I started losing her when he came into the picture. Things were fine.”

“No they weren’t,” Nat chuckles. “She would tell you what she wanted in the relationship, and you dealt with it by answering with sex. She tells me everything. Just admit that you started pulling away when you guys became more serious. When her role at work became bigger, were you jealous of your own fiancé?” she smirks up at him, her eyebrow cocked perfectly.

“I don’t know. I never should have gotten involved.”

“But you did. Took her for a ride. She returned today. Just to set things up,” Court looks up at Nat, his eyes bright and full of hope. “And wouldn’t you know, Lloyd had to turn down a mission. He didn’t want to work without her, but he’s not here. I believe your suspicions about him are true.”

He pushes his chair back, determination in his face to go see you, “Six, can I apologize to my friend first? You really screwed things up for me, and I still haven’t forgiven you for that.”

Court gives her a nod, “No more than ten minutes.”

Natasha’s legs drop from the desk, while she sets out to your new office. Her fingers skim over the blinding white walls until she stands at the doorway, your office perfectly opposite of Lloyd’s. She’s wondered what’s going on between the two of you, and even if you know what you’re getting into.

“Hey you,” her smoky voice says softly. Your eyes cut over to hers, but you don’t stop what you’re doing. “I get it. But nothing happened.”

“Yeah,” you finally look at her, a puff of air exits your mouth, before you return to hooking things up. “I know.”

“How?”

“Because you’re my friend,” you grunt, having to crawl behind a desk, before you emerge smiling at her, “You’re a lot of things, but loyalty is something you value. That’s not my problem. The problem is he ran to you. He talked to you. And you didn’t tell me. How long has Court…Six’s emotions been cheating on me? Sometimes that’s just as bad as sex.”

“You called him Six,” you shrug your shoulders, moving back to connecting another computer. “We had a different bond.”

“Yep, and he had been inside me. I was emotionally available to him, but he was blank, except to you, maybe Dani as well, who knows. The point is he should have talked to me. I know he wants to blame Lloyd, but Lloyd was there for me when Six couldn’t bring himself to be vulnerable.”

“Do you know anything about Lloyd? Like when he takes his absences?” you give her another shrug. She wasn’t getting information out of you. Information that could incriminate you and Lloyd. “He’s private on the side isn’t he?”

“Wouldn’t know.”

“You’re over at his house most nights, and not your own. Don’t tell me there isn’t anything going on.”

You turn around to look at her, hip jutted out and hands on your hips, a deep scowl set on your face. “You realize, I had a miscarriage on a mission. Lloyd blew his cover, and ended the mission, one you and Dani were supposed to clean up, Six went to that, too, huh?” she gives you a pitiful little nod. “I miscarried our child. And he went of a fucking mission. Lloyd stayed by my bed. He held my hand, he made me eat, he comforted me, because my former fiancé had better things to do. What goes on between me and Lloyd is nobody’s concern. Especially Six’s. He made his choice when he finished our mission. That shit hurts. And then to say what he said. And before coming back to work, I had to have a psyche evaluation to prove I was mentally able to work after a breakup and miscarriage. Don’t act like I’m the bad guy here. I moved my office because Lloyd is my partner. We actually communicate. Six couldn’t bother when we were engaged or at work. What was I supposed to do? Please, tell me.”

“You’re right,” she walks around your new office before sitting on an empty desk. “You’re right. But do you know about your fiancé?”

“Former. We’re not together.”

“Fine. Do you know?”

“His father was abusive.”

“To both him and his brother. Court knew it was either the father or him or his brother would die. He chose his father. He’s disfigured because of him. He went to prison for life because of him, until Fitzroy. While that’s his father figure, he’s still mentally battered from his real one. Court is a nobody, there’s no file on Court Gentry, he’s completely erased from history. Do you know about Claire?”

“Who?”

“Fitzroy‘s niece?” you shake your head no, not knowing Fitzroy had any family. “Court had to watch her. Bad people always come for the ones you love. Including you, and any children you had. He couldn’t do that to you or a child.”

“Then he should have got fixed. He shouldn’t have came inside me. Six should have done a lot of things. Hell, try telling me that he didn’t want fucking kids, and why. It’s not that hard. I would have understood completely. But I want kids.”

“You weren’t on the field. He thought he was protecting you.”

You give her a maniacal laugh, and shake your head, “Protecting his ego. Six’s pride and his lack of divulging in his life, killed us. There’s some things you can’t go back from. I could have understood why he didn’t want kids. But he acted the way he did, choosing the job instead of me, told me everything I needed to know.”

“He didn’t want to lose you.”

“Too late. Are you just going to talk about Six? I have a lot to do. I don’t get paid for this.”

Natasha gives you a final look before heading to the door, stopping to look at you one more time, “I’m sorry. But I don’t think Lloyd is your answer.”

“You know nothing about Lloyd. Don’t talk about him or talk to me about Six again,” with that she leaves, knowing that things will never be the same between you two either. Court has muddied a lot of waters with you, and she doesn’t know how to get you back.

“You go talk to her, it’s your funeral,” she says walking past his office and towards the door. She just needed a long drive and to do what she could to learn more about Lloyd. Maybe she could help you understand, until you got too deep. There was a reason why he was hated at the office.

Court heads to your office, and unfortunately you spot him first, “My god, what is this, piss Agent Twelve off day? I don’t want to talk right now. I’m setting up my office, because people are incompetent.”

“You were gone over two months,” you cut your eyes over at him, but don’t say anything, “I’m sorry.”

“You should be.”

“I know things will never be the same with us. But we had a lot of fun.”

“Surface area. I never got a chance to get to know you.”

“I didn’t think you would like it,” he shrugs, and you whip your head over to look at him. “I got to be someone different with you. Give myself a new identity with you.”

“There’s a problem with that, we were engaged, and you eventually pulled away because you never wanted me to see the real Six,” with his agent name coming off your lips, his face falls. You never called him that unless it was over coms. For as much as he didn’t want you in his ear, now he longed for it.

“Had we been casually dating, your new identity would have been one thing. You moved me in. You proposed to me, and up until a few months ago, I never knew who I was sleeping with. You don’t get to pick and choose what you tell the person you love. You don’t get to abandon your fiancé and child, and then you come into my hospital room acting like a fucking ass. I had every right to be pissed off at you.”

“You did. I’m sorry.”

“What is this, Six? What do you want?”

“Dinner.”

“No.”

“Yes, just to talk about who I would have been if I was really Court Gentry with you. Please, I know I screwed up. I don’t want us to end on bad terms. Those last few months, I was the world’s biggest asshole, because you were seeing more of the real me. Dinner. Unless, you can’t for some reason.”

You let out an exasperated groan, going to finish what you could with the office, but Court grabs your wrist, “Please. I’d hate to think that these last three years was a waste.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Because we had good memories. I do love you. But I know I can’t give you what you want. I can’t give you a baby, or a family, and risk them being hunted because of me.”

“I could have protected us,” your voice softens, and you nod your head at him.

“I realize that now. My place at eight?” you agree to the time, and even hearing my place, when before it was our place, it stings. A life you almost had before it was ripped away. Everything happens for a reason.

You actually smile from across the table at Court. Years of the fun little dates, and even how he was so sweet. Up until the end, he was your favorite relationship. Now looking back, you realize how it was almost too perfect. He knocked down every wall you had built up over time, the problem was you never knocked down any of his.

You take a sip of your wine, the taste and alcohol making your lips tingle. This place made memories rush into your brain, and you have to tell yourself, it was all a fantasy.

“How…how are you?” he finally asks. And with the sadden tone, you know he’s referring to your miscarriage and time away.

“Better,” you say, looking into the glass. “He was a boy. We were gonna have a boy. Some of my time off was spent trying to think of if we had a different life. I’d name him Rhett, or maybe Henry.”

“What about for a girl?” his hand slides across the table, and holds onto your hand. Finally realizing how much you had craved his touch.

“Atley. Maybe even Matilda. Atley is my favorite. I’d want the boy to have their…your name somewhere. It doesn’t matter though.”

“It does. I’m sorry I couldn’t give that to you,” you nod. Removing your hand out from under his, you go to stand, “Where are you going? We were talking.”

“It’s a life we’ll never have. Even if you changed your mind about kids, I don’t want that life with you anymore. Too much happened.”

“I know,” he whispers as you go to stand, he moves in front of you, “I don’t want you to hate me,” hands resting on your hips, you press your forehead up against his chest. His cologne intoxicating, and those distant memories of how this smell always made you weak rushes to the forefront.

“I don’t. I just don’t want to be with you,” you pull your head back, and roll your eyes up to look at him, and shake your head. “I should go.”

“I wish you would stay,” he sways the two of you back and forth in a middle school type dancing, and you giggle a little bit at the effort. “Tomorrow is a new day. Just give me tonight.”

“Things will never be the same.”

“I’m just asking for tonight, and I’ll peacefully walk away. I won’t try to make you stay. I won’t try to talk you into anything. I’ll leave you alone.”

“You’re bargaining my peace from you with sex?”

“Who said anything about sex? I just don’t want you to leave.”

Your hand snakes up his chest, sliding around his neck, and settles into his hair. Running your fingers through his locks, you bring him closer to you, “And this is too sweet for me.”

“Then tell me what you need. I’m listening,” those words are bittersweet. If only he had said that beforehand. You know it’s wrong. You know Court and you will never work out. Know that you mix as good as fire and gasoline. But tomorrow was another day. Tonight was the final goodbye.

Jumping into his arms, your hand pets around his face, tracing your thumb over his lip, and those puppy dog eyes wait patiently for you to tell him what you want, “I don’t need anything from you.”

“I know you don’t.”

“I just want to say goodbye.”

“This doesn’t feel like a normal goodbye.”

“I don’t want sweet. I want you to fuck me,” Court slams his lips into yours, walking the two of you to the bedroom. His mouth moves to your neck, his facial hair sending chills up your spine.

Your own hands pull off his shirt. Running your hands down his scarred skin. Tossing you onto the bed, he jerks off his jeans, and reaches to pull you down the bed by your ankles. Yanking at your clothes, until you’re completely naked.

Giving you a moment to retreat, but you flip around, to your knees, and ass in the air. He grabs your hips, using a free hand to slide his tip through your folds. Lining himself up, before slamming into you.

Nothing about this moment is sweet. It’s feral and needy. You don’t even want to look at him, just try to feel the pleasurable pain. Court only got this way when he was pissed. And the way he grips your skin, you know he is. But pissed at himself for having you right there, and he ruined it.

Your cunt almost molding to him as he ruts into you. Trying to forget the life you thought you wanted. Heated and fiery and just pleasure. Nothing but a pounding pleasure.

Your squelching juices create the perfect background to his angered grunts. Whimpering at how wrong, and still right this feels.

Court wraps his arm around you, hand on your neck, as he lifts you up. Leaving your back at a dangerous arch, and your shoulders flush with his body. Feeling his high coming on too fast, when your cunt quivers around him. “It’s too soon,” he growls.

“Don’t stop.”

“We have all night.”

“You have right now.”

He bites down on your shoulder, and stabs into you even harder. If this was to be the last time, he was going to make sure you felt him for weeks to come. Looking at the two of your reflections in the mirror, one of his favorite things to do. Your eyes clenched tight up at the ceiling, removing any emotion, while he wants to cling to them. Remember you in this way.

Your body ripples with his hard thrusts. Your lewd mewls reverberating in the room, and he was the ultimate fuck up. Was able to have this every time he came home. But ego, lies, and jealousy got in the way.

He holds you tighter thinking you were going to stay with him, but you won’t. He knows you checked out at the hospital, and there was no going back.

Reaching behind you, you hold onto him as your walls clench tight around him, screaming out a tearful goodbye as you come undone. A few more hard thrusts, and he lets his seed spurt into your cunt. The both of you panting, and he gives you a hard kiss to your cheek.

“Why did you do that?”

“I should have done it more often.”

“Six…”

“Say my name, one more time,” his eyes slowly close, when you whisper his name to him. “I’m sorry.”

“Me, too,” pushing off his hands, he pulls himself out, watching as his spend leaks onto your thighs, and he knows he never enjoyed that quite enough. He doesn’t know what he was trying to accomplish with that. Thinking maybe he could keep you. Maybe you would stay if he proved he wanted that life. But his fears lingered over his head, and he hurt you more than you can forgive.

Your body wobbles as you go to grab your clothes, walking to the bathroom and you stare at yourself in the mirror for too long. A mental note to go to the drugstore when you left. Pulling up your jeans, Court, still naked, stands behind you kissing on your shoulders, and you still don’t melt. Pulling on your shirt, you give him a short goodbye, and he just watches as you walk out the door and out of his life, thinking he should have tried harder.

Next

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[anitalenia]

₊˚⊹♡ 𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒚𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒏.

₊˚⊹♡ 𝒔𝒊𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒙.

₊˚⊹♡ 𝒗𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 / 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒊𝒆𝒔.