#sierra six oneshot
Text
Bullet for You | Sierra Six
sierra six x fem!reader ✧ oneshot
Summary: Six's job is simple—protect you and Claire. It should have been straight-forward, should have been easy. That is, until you fell in love. And love makes us do crazy things, things that make the simple job of protecting very difficult.
A/N: I'm back! I know it's been a while, but I'm on a break from university and I can actually breathe and do the things I love, like writing for a totally new character to me! It's another angsty whump, but what else do you expect? Some authors specialize in smut, others in fluff. I just happen to love the angst. And be honest, so do you. Love and miss you all, keep dreaming 🤍
Warnings: angst, blood, injury, language, happy ending I promise
Word Count: 6033
✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦
It began with a smile.
I'm not even sure if you could call what Sierra Six's lips made a smile, considering how small and quick it was. I count it, though. After months of being a bodyguard for my sister and I, months of Claire cracking jokes and me forcing Six to sit through comedy after comedy, he finally smiled.
And he smiled at me.
It was oh so brief, so fleeting, so miniscule. And yet, that one upturn of his lips changed something so fundamental and eternally within me. I was in the kitchen, trying desperately to grab the flour from the top cabinet and stubbornly refusing any and all help Six so stoically offered from his silent post in the corner. When I managed to accidentally tip it over, raining the flour down upon me and sending the bag careening to the floor, I looked up just in time to see Six's lip turn up.
And I could never be the same.
After the smile, more of the ice began to crack. He got more comfortable on movie nights, would even joke back with me with that dry, sarcastic humor of his. Sometimes, if it's been an especially good week, I can get Six to take us out on the town. Our mission had always been just to warm up the unflinching exterior of Sierra Six. Claire and I never meant to rely on his protection, his safety, his surprising warmth.
I never meant to fall in love.
And love makes you do incomprehensible things.
"Six, on average, how much do you sleep? Just give me a ballpark number here," I call out, eying the stoic, gorgeously rugged man over my steaming coffee mug.
Six pauses to think for a minute before adjusting the cuffs on his suit jacket, "3 hours on a good night."
"Excuse me?" I sputter, almost choking on the burning liquid caffeine. I set down my mug, my wide eyes catching on the humor buried in Six's smug features, "You have to know how bad for you that is."
"Sleep is for the weak," Six replies plainly, and even though I know he's joking with me I roll my eyes skyward.
"That's why you have the emotional range of a carrot. I would too if I slept that little!"
I almost miss the smile that ghosts his lips. It takes every ounce of strength I have to smother the roaring of my heart at the sight. Six simply stares ahead, his unchanging demeanor giving little away. After the many months he's been watching over us, though, I've learned to pick up on the subtleties in his behavior. The way his shoulders are relaxed and his jaw isn't set, the way his clear blue eyes seem softened, I'd go as far to call him almost...content.
I hadn't realized how much I would be willing to give to make sure he stayed that way.
I find myself studying him for another moment, and I know that he knows I am. I can't bring myself to look away, though. I know what he's been through, and even if my knowledge is only a fraction of his past, I know that peace and rest have seldom been in the cards for him. Sudden, pressing emotion threatens to choke me at the thought of the agent's life away from here. All of the horrible things he has to do, all of the fighting, all of the sleepless nights and days void of joy.
"Six, can I ask you a personal question?"
There's a beat of silence, and I know he wasn't expecting that from me. Neither was I, if I'm going to be honest.
"Technically you're my boss, so you can ask me anything. Now whether or not I’ll answer..." Six tilts his head, his humored eyes meeting mine as the start of a smirk tugs at his lips. He walks over slowly to the breakfast table I sit at, and I almost begin to fear that the pounding of my heart and searing of my blood in my veins is audible.
"Ask away, Y/N." Six says gently, his gaze down at me with a glint of something that he keeps intricately veiled.
And yet it makes a shiver crawl down my spine.
I almost lose my nerve, what with his eyes burning down into me and the closeness of his presence making my head dizzy with a dangerous tangle of attraction and unspoken feelings. Swallowing thickly, I keep my voice calm as I hold his gaze.
"If you had a say in your life, what would it look like?" I almost whisper.
His jaw clenches slightly, his throat bobbing and his body going tense. A faraway look settles into those breathtaking eyes as Six raises his gaze to the window across from us. He's silent for a while, which is characteristic for Six. He always chooses his words wisely, always stays calm, always remains sure.
This is the most unsure I've seen him, and it makes me wonder if he's ever been asked this.
"I don't know," He finally answers truthfully, making something so fundamental crack in my chest. I can't help but stare at his lifted face with furrowed brows and and pain-filled eyes. "I guess I've never really thought about it."
"You've never thought about what you want?" I ask, my voice no more than a breath to hide the anguish that threatens to out my feelings for my bodyguard.
Six sets his jaw, looking down at me again and stealing the breath from my lungs. His eyes search my face, almost as if he's memorizing every feature. In them is more emotion than I've seen in his gaze before. Finally, his eyes meet mine and I remember how much of a goner I am.
"Not until recently."
I don't dare to imagine what he means, but I can't ignore the stumbling of my heart and the overwhelming urge to stand and close the distance between us. I stay unmoving in my chair though, not daring to barely breathe.
"And what do you want, Six?"
Out of the corner of my eye I see his hands clench tighter together in front of him, almost as if he's...restraining them. From what, I'm not sure. My heart pounds harder in its cage of bones and I feel something shift in the air between us. As my breathing slowly increases and the silence grows thicker, I begin to realize that I can't hold back from him much longer. Six seems ready to answer when the ringing of my phone on the breakfast table interrupts and snaps the moment.
"Sorry," I whisper, finding my breath hard to gather as I look down at the caller ID, "It's work. I have to take this."
I give him a sympathetic gaze, but Six seems to relax slightly at this. He takes a few steps back and nods, giving me another small smile, "Duty calls,"
I smile back, and it takes all of my effort to look away and answer the phone. The call is short and to the point. They're loading me with remote work to finish over the weekend before Monday morning. Once I finally hang up, I let out a long sigh and shove myself to my feet.
"Well, looks like my Saturday just got filled," I announce with a yawn, stretching my arms up before grabbing my coffee mug. I give Six a tired smile as I bring the empty mug to the sink in the kitchen.
"They're working you half to death," Six remarks, turning to watch me as I clean my dishes, "Any more extra hours and I might have to go over there and bloody up my knuckles."
His words shouldn't ignite me as much as they do.
"I’m tempted to tell you to, being technically your boss and all," I respond, and I swear a quiet laugh escapes his laugh. It makes a soft smile grow onto my lips that I don't bother to stop. I finally tear away my gaze and walk towards my room.
"Let me know if you need anything, Six." I call back, meaning every word.
What he says next makes he halt in my step, my brows furrowed in confusion.
"Court."
I look back at him, not even having to ask to convey that I don't know what he means by that one word. Six just stares at me in a way that makes me feel undone.
"That's my real name. Courtland, but everyone used to call me Court."
His name. More than a number, more than a title, more than a job. His name. He told me his name.
What Six...what Court has done to me can never be undone. What he has changed within me can never be fixed. I know it as I just stare at him, a smile growing on my lips. I know it as that name clangs around in my mind.
"If you tell anyone, I'll have to kill you, though." Court jokes, his face still so stoic. With my heart pounding in my chest and my mind spinning out of control, I stand staring at him in awe for another moment.
"I'll take it to my grave," I whisper, my heart racing so quickly that I fear it will fail, "Court."
Saying it is one thing, but to hear his name from someone else, to hear his name from me...Something changes in Court's gaze. Something changes between us, something I can't put my finger on and something that makes me come to two realizations as I walk into my room and shut the door.
One. I love him more than I thought love was capable of.
I press my back up against my bedroom door, letting my head fall back and my eyes slip closed.
Two. There is nothing, absolutely nothing, I wouldn't do to give Courtland every single thing he could ever want.
That second realization is a very dangerous thing to know to be true when the man you'd give everything for is the man in charge of protecting your very life.
|||
Later That Night
I walk out of my bedroom, stretching with a groan. It's nearly two in the morning and I'm just now finishing up with the work that my boss sent over. My tired eyes adjust to the darkness of the house as I make my way over to the kitchen and grab a water from the fridge.
"I guess I'll relax when I retire," I grumble under my breath as I take a swig of water.
I recap the bottle and go to set it on the counter edge, but miss. When the plastic bottle clatters against the ground and I realize that I have to pick it up, I let out another groan. Mumbling under my breath annoyedly, I bend down to pick up the bottle. When I do, I'm not even fully standing before a large, powerful arm is barring my throat and pressing me to the fridge with a massive, warm body. I barely have time to gasp when my wide eyes meet those familiar blue ones and his arm is off of me in the next instant.
"Shit, Y/N are you okay?" Six asks, gently taking my face in his large, rough hands and tilting it so he can examine the untarnished skin of my neck for signs of harm.
I force out a laugh to hide the lowering panic from being attacked and from being so close to Court. Where his skin meets mine burns so intensely that I almost think something is wrong.
"I'm alright," I promise, but he doesn't let go and step back until he has come to the same conclusion, "Unless you count scaring me half to death."
"No one's usually up this late, I thought you were an intruder," Six responds, guilt still coursing through his gaze. I can’t help notice the absence of warmth in my body without his hands on me.
"Well, you're very good at your job but if I were an intruder, why would I stop for some water?" I ask, humor coursing through me. Six shrugs, and I can tell he's scrambling to regain his composure.
"Maybe you got thirsty. Breaking in takes effort"
I laugh softly, which visibly puts Six at ease. He shakes his head slightly, running a hand across his stubble-covered jaw. It's then that I notice he's not wearing professional clothes. Instead, a tight-fitting black t-shirt shows off nearly every muscle in his torso and the sweatpants to go with it make him almost seem...normal. The sight has my mouth dry and my chest tightly constricted.
"I can't believe my eyes," I remark breathlessly, looking up to connect my gaze with his, "You're not wearing a suit."
"They're in the wash," he remarks, making another laugh escape my lips.
"Well, now that you've scared me half to death, I'm definitely not tired anymore."
"Next time, don't go sneaking around the kitchen at midnight," Six advises. I scoff, lifting an eyebrow at him.
"Sneaking around? If that was sneaking around then I lied. You must not be very good at your job," I point out. His ever-so stoic face turns smug in a way that sends my heart careening out of rhythm. He takes a step closer and I have to look up to keep my gaze locked with his. His warmth washes over me and suddenly I can't think straight.
"Honey, I'm not good at my job. I'm fucking incredible at it," Six rumbles, and every coherent part of me turns molten.
The way he looks down at me with that stupid smirk on the lips that I've dreamed about for months, the way his body seems to dwarf mine, the way every molecule of air has been sucked away...it's too much for my fool's heart to resist any longer.
We both go quiet, and I think he realizes the tension thick in the air at the same moment that I do. His eyes dart down to my lips so quickly that I almost think I dreamt it, but I know that I didn't and it sends me past the breaking point.
"Y/N," Court whispers. His voice is a warning, a plea, a promise.
I'm about to close the distance between us when the glint of something catches my eye. I dart my gaze over my bodyguard's shoulder just in time to see a singular man with a handgun standing at the entry of the kitchen.
And the gun's aimed at Six, not me.
My eyes widen, and the moment suddenly slows to a crawl. The man's finger is already squeezing the trigger, and in my head I can see the love of my life catching that bullet and crumpling to the ground. Pure horror seizes my chest and I can't even think before I act.
"NO!" I shout, shoving around Six and managing to get my body between him and the man just in time for a gunshot to ring pure and clear through the air.
Time freezes and every second is a handful of years. The pain is instant, but the bite is dulled by Six bellowing my name. I've never even heard his voice get that loud. It seems almost louder than the second gunshot that explodes nearer to my head, one that comes from Six and hits the lone intruder directly between the eyes.
I press my hands to the burning in my chest, and my shocked brain can't seem to comprehend what the thick, warm liquid that gushes around my fingers is. I see Six move in front of me and slowly look up at him, my head growing lighter by the second. His eyes are wild and frantic, not an ounce of calm in sight.
"Court," I breathe, and it's the only word I can get out before my legs give out. Courtland reacts instantly, lifting me in his arms and already moving for Claire's room.
"Hold on, honey. Hold on," He orders, his voice straining for indifferent but betrayed by its tremble. My blurring vision stays caught on the beautiful man who holds me, and for once his stoic nature is broken. In its stead is a panic that he barely keeps controlled.
"Six? Six what happened?" Claire calls out from somewhere in front of me.
"Claire, I need you to grab the keys and get the car started. We need to get your sister to a hospital, alright?"
I can hear Claire frantically rush out a million questions as she scrambles through the house. My vision begins to fade, voices begins to dull, and I can barely keep my eyes open as I feel myself being carried into the garage. I vaguely hear the roar of an engine and the opening of a car door. In the midst of it all, though, my eyes are on Court.
"Court," I whisper, and through the darkening haze I see the love of my life look down at me, his gaze breaking with something deathly close to tears, "Court I'm tired again"
"No baby," he interrupts, his voice breaking on the words so deeply that he has to clear his throat to keep his tone steady, "I need you to stay awake, alright sweetheart?"
I try to nod as he sets my down in the back seat with Claire and shuts the door. I can hear my sister sobbing and speaking to me as she presses down firmly on my chest, trying desperately to keep my blood from gushing out of my body. Then, Court's in the driver's seat and peeling out of the garage and down the road at an ungodly speed. The squeal of tires and the smell of burning rubber catch in me as my brain scrambles to hold onto anything and everything.
"Why did you do that, Y/N?" Court demands, his voice so angry and terrified and desperate, all at once showing more emotion than I have ever head from him. “Why did you that?"
I know he doesn't mean for me to answer, but in the midst of it all his voice is my lifeline to the living world. As the pain dulls and I feel myself being dragged underneath by the alluring peace of darkness, Sierra Six's voice keeps me tethered to reality a few minutes longer.
He was just supposed to be my bodyguard. He didn’t even want this job when he first started. He was my uncle’s employee and that was it.
And now, I’ve taken a bullet for him. I’d do it again, too. Over and over and over again.
Oh how things have changed.
"I couldn't let you die." My voice is weak and small, but he hears it through all of the commotion. As he tears down the dark road, his eyes meet mine in the review mirror. In them, I see his heart shattering. I see the guilt mounting and I see his very composure hanging by a thread.
"You should have let me."
Those words are the last things I hear before my world fades away into a nothingness so consuming that I almost welcome it.
|||
The next few hours—or days, of which I’m not sure—pass in a drug-induced haze that captures my mind in a knee-deep sludge.
There’s flashes of white coats and bright lights, needles and monitors, cold metal and blinding pain. Through it all, my mind struggles to keep pace and the confusion muddles every thought and leaves them to die on their way across a neuron to fruition. Eventually, the chaos settles into a blissful sleep.
That is, until the lights turn back on in my mind and this time, I can think clearly.
When I finally manage to get my eyes to open to the soft lighting of a hospital room, I remain still on the bed. I can hear voices mulling around me, and subconsciously I find myself searching and yearning for that one specific voice to grace my ears.
But it doesn't.
With a slight frown etched into my brow, I stir slightly on the hospital bed and turn my head to survey the room. The sources of the voices appear as I sweep my gaze to the chairs at my bedside. A small smile etches onto my lips. It's Uncle Fitz and Claire.
"Hey,"
My voice is barely a scratch of a whisper, but it makes my family go silent before me. They both whip their gazes towards me, and instantly whatever conversation the two were having before is long forgotten. Uncle Fitz and Claire hurry to my side, each speaking over the other to try and talk with me. Tears edge my gaze and I chuckle slightly, the motion making my chest ache painfully.
"One at a time," I manage out, smiling at the two. Uncle Fitz grabs ahold of my hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it and clutching it in his grasp as if at any moment I'll fade away.
"You gave us both one hell of a scare, kiddo,"
"Yeah," Claire chirps in, slapping my thigh lightly, "Don't do that again, Y/N"
She's saying something else, but my gaze sweeps through the rest of the room and something in my chest falls when I see only a stranger standing in the corner. No trace of Six. An odd spiraling sensation trickles through my chest. This room isn't complete without him.
"Where's Six?" I mumble, turning to look between a now silent Uncle Fitz and Claire. My uncle takes in a long breath and sits up slightly, keeping my hand in his.
"Y/N, this is Agent Williams. He will be watching over you and Claire from now on"
That trickle in my chest intensifies to a downpour, and suddenly someone is wrenching my heart in their grasp. My breathing quickens, my head spins, my soul trembles.
Where is Six? Where is he? Why isn't he here?
"Did you fire him?" I breathe out, my eyes wide and every emotion displayed plainly across my face.
"Y/N," Fitz sighs, hanging his head so to not look me in the eyes.
"Did you fire him?" I repeat, my heart beating so fast it could burst. Then, Uncle Fitzroy looks me in the eyes once more.
"No, sweetheart. He requested to be moved to another assignment."
And my heart, my very soul, fractures.
He's just so easily left us behind? After everything we've been through, after every day cooped up together, after slowly but surely breaking into my chest and stealing my heart, he's gone.
I don’t think so.
I only groan slightly as I sit up against my uncle’s protests, “Give me his location.”
Fitz freezes, his brows furrowing as he stands unsure beside my hospital bed, “Y/N, I can’t-“
“Give me his location,” I repeat, staring down my uncle, “You know it’s safe with me.”
Fitz holds my gaze for a few more moments, warring with himself over whether or not to give into my demands. I know I’ve won when he lets out a long sigh and pulls out his phone.
“You’re not gonna back down, so I guess I have to,” he wearily says. He fiddles around with his phone before putting it away and pulling out a burner phone from another pocket.
Does he just keep those things on hand?
“Here, I sent the location to this phone,” Uncle Fitz informs, slipping the burner phone into my hand, “But you’re not allowed to go until you’re healed up.”
I nod, grateful to take whatever bargain I can. As the day goes on, it turns into two. And then three. And then a week. And then two weeks. Before I know it, it’s been a month, and I’m still clutching the burner phone to my chest. A few more months and I’ll be able to hunt Six down. I’ll find him.
I have to.
|||
A few months later.
The cold wind whips against my cheeks angrily, making my skin nearly burn with the frost it holds. The buildings smattered around do little to break the icy temperatures, and neither does the throngs of people mulling around quietly with their thick coats tugged close. My eyes follow the buildings closely as I walk, and it isn’t long before I come to a pause and pull out the small burner phone Uncle Fitz gave me months ago in the hospital.
I check and then double check. This is it. This is the building.
Anxiety I hadn’t expected blossoms in the bottom of my gut as I stand before the apartment complex. A million doubts rush through my head, but I banish them with the reminder that, if nothing else, I am here to see Court one last time.
Even if that last time is me punching him across the face.
I shove past the crowd and hastily cross the street, getting lucky enough to slip in through the main entrance behind another tenant as they go in. The blast of stifled heat in the dingy, close to trashy, apartment lobby is enough to make me choke, but it’s welcome compared to the icebox of outside. I go unnoticed as I make my way to the stairwell beside the elevators that don’t seem all that trustworthy.
Fourth floor. Room 416. It should be the last one on the right.
I take each step slower than the last, my grit fizzling out the closer I get to the fourth floor. The stairwell is silent, leaving my brain plenty of room to run over and over and over again what could happen. Once again, I silence the thoughts by reminding myself of what spurred me to come here in the first place.
He left. Six left and I don’t think I can keep living like this without him.
What if he doesn’t want to stay with me? What if I mean as little to him as the next target? What if, what if, what if?
I don’t even pause to catch my breath when I reach the massive door marked with the Russian word for four. I shove through it and begin to blaze my way down the cramped hallway. My heart is racing but I don’t dare stop, don’t dare look back. I’ve come this far, I can’t turn around now.
I do pause, though, when I reach the last door on the right. Room 416.
“416,” I breathe, my heart slamming in my chest loud enough to reverberate through my being.
Then I raise my fist, and knock.
And knock.
And then knock again.
By the third round of knocking, it hits me that he’s probably not home. For some reason, that comforts me. I tug in a breath of stifled air and then pull out the pickpocketing kit I’d purchased weeks ago in case of this very scenario. With trembling fingers, I stoop down and begin to fiddle with the lock just as I’d practiced. It’s only a few minutes before I’m met with a surprising click.
It’s open.
I stash the kit and hold my breath as I take the cold doorknob in my grasp. Then, with a heart of both lead and hope, I turn it and enter his apartment. The moment I’m inside and the door is shut behind me, I know that I’ve reached the right place. The overwhelming smell of pine and snow and a hint of gum circulates, and that’s one smell I don’t think I’ll ever soon forget.
Casting my gaze around the darkened apartment, I notice it’s as I suspected. I can’t see anyone in here. I traipse my way into the main area of the small but quaint apartment. There’s a kitchen to my left, a small living room to my right, and a short hallway leading to a door that I presume is his bedroom before me.
I haven’t taken more than two steps towards the door when a pair of large, rough hands grasp my shoulders and shove me backwards until I’m colliding with the wall beside the kitchen. A massive, muscular arm comes up to bar my throat, and once my shock has subsided, I come to realize what’s happening. The familiarity of this is too strong.
Because it’s him. It’s Courtland.
He must be just as surprised to see me, because the moment recognition flares through those gorgeous, deadly eyes, his stubble-covered jaw slackens and so does his hold on my neck. He keeps me there against the wall, seeming to be frozen and uncomprehending of what stands before him. With his skin on mine and his face so close, I almost buckle to the floor as something I’ve been missing these last few months crashes into me. Something only Court makes me feel.
“This position seems familiar,” I finally whisper, breaking the thick, tense silence.
“Y/N” Six mumbles, the very sound of my name coming from his lips making me shiver.
He shoves away from me instantly, taking steps back to put space between us. Six runs a hand over his jaw as his gaze sweeps over me, slowly and scrutinizingly in the way he was trained. Only his gaze doesn’t make me feel like a target, it makes me feel…undone. I see his eyes stick on my upper torso. The exact spot that bullet slammed into me all those months ago. A certain pain flashes through his gaze before, in an instant, his unfeeling and unyielding demeanor returns.
Only this time there’s a difference. I can visibly see the strain it takes to hide whatever emotions are running through him.
“I’m okay,” I manage out, shattering the silence between us. I mentally scold myself for the stupid and fumbling excuse for a first greeting, but I press on nonetheless.
Court nods, his face blank as his eyes pierce into mine, “What are you doing here?”
His words send a dagger of hurt slicing through my heart, but I try to ignore it. Instead, I gather my nerve and say what I came here to stay.
“You weren’t there when I woke up”
I intended the words to be bold, convicting, confident. It surprises even me when they instead come out nearly laying bare every inch of affliction burdening me. My words are quiet, but they hit Six so hard I see him flinch the slightest bit.
“I’m just glad you woke up,” Six averts, but his words ring with truth. I feel tears I knew would come but desperately hoped wouldn’t begin to prick behind my eyes.
“Why did you leave?” I ask directly. I’m done beating around the bush.
“Y/N, it’s not as simple as-”
“Why did you leave?” I repeat, my words stronger and trembling only slightly at the end. Six sighs, clenching his jaw before he manages a response.
“I had a job, I failed at that job. When that happens, that usually means you don’t have that job anymore.” He sounds almost automated, as if he’d memorized those words.
“That sounds pretty simple to me,” I shoot back, anger I hadn’t anticipated beginning to burn in my gut, “But I’m calling bullshit.”
There’s a moment of silence and I can tell from the shift in his gaze that he’s going to tell me the truth.
I just hope I’m prepared for what it means.
“It is-,” he stops abruptly, barely reacting except for the tightening of his jaw and the clenching of his fists before him as he tries again, “Was my job to protect you. I couldn’t do that when you were willing to put yourself in danger around me.”
“You left me because I made you incapable of doing your job correctly?” I exclaim, my tone incredulous.
“It’s not about the damn job!” Six suddenly outbursts, and I go silent immediately. I’ve only ever heard him raise his voice now twice.
And the first was when he saw blood pouring from my chest.
“Protecting you,” Six continues, his normal volume returned but his voice strained, “It goes beyond the job.”
I don’t seem to have a response for that one. I don’t need to find one either, because Six can’t stop himself from taking a step closer to me.
“You once asked me what I wanted,” He murmurs, and even though we’re a few feet apart the air is electric. “Well, what I want can’t be near me if all she’ll do is put herself between me and a bullet.”
I’m fairly certain that my brain short-circuits, because his words won’t process.
What he wants.
What he wants.
Me? He wants me?
“You mean you-”
But just as quickly as his emotion has exploded, it’s gone. Court’s face hardens and he turns around, walking off back to where he was before I broke in.
“Your new bodyguard is good. He’ll take care of you.”
"Wait, Six. I-"
"I've got a job to take care of here, so I probably won't see you or Claire again. Keep her safe for me." His voice is so monotone, so careless, so...so strained to make it that way. I watch in utter shock as he mills around his apartment, grabbing a phone and a gun as he clearly prepares to leave.
"Six, don't shut down like this. We need to talk about what you just said." I insist. He acts as though I haven't spoken at all.
"If you'll excuse me," Six says curtly, pulling a suit jacket on and brushing past me and towards the door to his apartment. A certain panic grips my chest so tightly that my legs nearly give out.
He can't leave me, not again. I can't lose him. I can't.
"Six, wait!" I exclaim, trailing him towards the door. He doesn't turn around, "Please, just talk to me."
Six makes it to the apartment door and swings it open. As he does, despair that threatens to suffocate me invades my chest. I'm slowly beginning to realize that this is it. He's going to walk out that door and everything that has happened in the time I've known him, everything he's become to me, will be over.
"Court, please. Don't leave me,"
Six freezes in his step, the door still in his grasp and his frame halfway through the opening. My heart slams into my throat, hope making it pick up its pace as he stands with his back to me, his body clearly heaving with breath.
"If you meant what you just said," I falter slightly, only slightly, before I throw all caution to the wind, "Then you have to know that I want you too, you have to know that. Shit, Court I more than want you. I-"
My words die as Six is suddenly moving, storming back into the apartment and slamming the door behind him. I stare with wide eyes as he suddenly approaches me, and the next thing I know his hands are cupping my face and his face is so close to mine that all thoughts leave me. His eyes search mine as he pauses, no emotions held back this time.
"This isn't safe for you," Court rasps. I can hardly focus as his eyes drop to my lips with a desire so strong in them that a shiver runs down my spine.
"I'm safest with you," I assure. Court shakes his head slightly, his thumb running across my cheek.
"You just had to go and say my name," He murmurs.
Then Court connects his lips to mine, and for the first time in my life I know what it is to live.
His lips move in perfect harmony with mine, his warmth overwhelming me and overheating me. His large, calloused hands on me are everything and not enough all at once and when one slips into my hair and tugs me closer, I know.
He is danger, he is the dark, he is everything I was warned about as a child. And he's the love of my life.
"No more jumping in front of bullets for me," Court orders once he pulls back. My lips twitch up slightly.
"No promises."
#courtland gentry#courtland gentry x reader#court gentry#court gentry x reader#court gentry x y/n#sierra six x reader#six x reader#sierra six x y/n#angst#fluff#the gray man#sierra six#whump#ryan gosling#oneshot#sierra six oneshot#courtland gentry oneshot#sierra six angst#sierra six x female reader
884 notes
·
View notes
Text
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.”
#mlem writes#sierra six one shot#sierra six fic#sierra six fanfiction#sierra six imagine#sierra six x yn#sierra six x y/n#sierra six x you#sierra six x reader#sierra six oneshot#sierra six#court gentry fanfiction#court gentry imagine#court gentry one shot#court gentry oneshot#court gentry x yn#court gentry x reader#court gentry x you#court gentry x y/n#court gentry#courtland gentry x reader#courtland gentry#the gray man x reader#the gray man fanfiction#the gray man fic#the gray man on netflix#the gray man netflix#the gray man#ryan gosling x reader#ryan gosling imagine
52 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hot Chocolate
Hey Y'all I absolutely love the holidays and Christmas is my fave holiday out of the year so in honor of that I want to create some cute holiday one shots ! I hope you all enjoy this
Sierra Six X Reader
Y/N POV
Christmas was your favorite time of the year. The Magic of Christmas in New York was something that you can't describe.
The happy feeling in the air. The lights glowing in the night sky. God if you got lucky and was able to see snow. It was just pure magic.
You always felt happier during the season.. Most people were stressed but not you.
Being able to go buy gifts for your loved ones. Helping those in need was something that was special to you
. Gift giving was your love language just being able to see the thought and time someone put into picking out the most perfect gift.
This year was even more special for you. It was the first time that you were spending it with someone you truly were in love with.
Before you were either single or just not with the right person. But that chance meeting with six at a diner was something your never going to forget.
You both were sitting alone at the bar side when the most devilish handsome man in front of you asked if you could pass the ketchup.
Now hear me out there’s way more to this. He didn’t even look up when he asked you.
But when he looked up and saw the most beautiful smile and person in front of him he didn’t realize how long he was actually staring at you.
“Is there something wrong oh god is there food stuck on my face” you panicked
That broke the major trance he was in
“No uh sorry mm excuse me” He said clearing his throat. His face turning beat red
“Well good thing I don’t but you do” you said pointing to the small ketchup dot on his face.
His face turned blood red and he was clearly embarrassed
“It seems to suit you you look hot with it” You blurted out now your face was blood red from embarrassment because why would you yell that out.
He grabbed the napkin and wiped his face
“Now don’t you turn red your also the second hottest person in here next to me obviously” He said making you laugh.
After that the rest was history. You sat for hours just talking and after he asked you out on a proper date.
That was almost a year ago and in that year you learned so much about him.
What he actually did for work his past and everything. You didn’t mind he only did those things to protect people.
He was kind and sweet and amazing and you were so lucky.
Though he always told you it was the opposite way. He never thought he would ever be so lucky to meet and fall in love with a amazing person such as yourself.
He knew so much about you even about your love for the holiday.
Which is why you were in such a fuss to make it so special. You were killing yourself decorating the apartment all up and even making a big deal about the most perfect tree.
“Babe it’s just a tree calm down” He said laughing at you.
You were currently taking measurements and shaking them and inspecting them for fulliness.
You gasped out loud
“Just a tree no no you don’t understand the tree is everything there is no christmas without a tree” He just laughed at you
After a couple of hours and him huffing and puffing it was cold you finally found the most perfect one.
You took it home and made him wear matching pajamas. You all decorated the tree together and sipped on hot chocolate.
You made him watch christmas movies and take pictures and even though he tried to act manly he had never been happier or more in love.
The season was flying by and you were spending all day out trying to find him the most perfect gift.
Because all that man did was say he didn’t want anything. Because he was in prison at such a young age he missed out on a lot.
He talked a lot about playing games and being a nerd so you tracked down all old games and systems.
You even brought him that nice watch he had been not secretly eying.
You were all around time trying to get everything when you got a text on your phone.
“Come here to our place” Was it said you knew what it meant instantly.
So you hurried and shoved all your stuff into the trunk and raced over to where he was.
He sitting at the same seat where you both meant. He loved going there back with you and getting lost in your eyes all over again.
You ran over to him and snuck up behind him.
“Guess who” You said covering his eyes.
“Rachel my secret girlfriend is that you” He said not even able to contain his laugh.
“Wow okay i see how its hopefully she shows up” You said in between laughs.
He turned around and grabbed you and pulled you close into him.
“Mm she’s later but your good enough for now” He said smiling in your lips and leaning in and kissing you slowly.
You kissed him back the butterflies always there. After you broke the kiss you sat down next to him.
“Just in time” Jean said she was there the night you two meant and every other time you had been there.
She placed two big cups of hot chocolate with whipped cream. You smiled big and instantly grabbed it and sipped it. It soothed your soul.
“Mm omg soo good” You said laughing and sitting the cup down.
“What’s this for though” You asked
“Because I love you” Six said.
“Are we going home and changing into our pj’s and watching more christmas movies because you love me” You said leaning into him.
“Maybe” He said smiling, picking up his cup of hot chocolate to his mouth and taking a sip.
You both laughed and you spent hours again just sitting there and talking and eating a favorite pastime of yours.
After you left you walked through NYC looking at the lights and seeing everything so neatly decorated.
After you went home and of course he went home and put his matching pajamas on with you and laid in bed and watched christmas movies.
You were laid up all on him and he wrapped you in his arms.
Six never really cared about the holidays due to never having a family to come home to but thank goddess that changed.
You were the greatest gift he could have ever asked for.
#sierra six x reader#sierra six#sierra six x y/n#sierra six x you#courtland gentry#the gray man#christmas oneshot#ryan gosling
42 notes
·
View notes
Note
A fic about Six you say…can we know what it’s about? 👀
Fictional man being pathetic is all you need to know. It's not gonna have smut (at least this time) but hurt, comfort and underlying feelings.
Six is definitely a character I will write for many times, so don't be upset this won't be smutty!
I hope you're all gonna enjoy it because I'm very proud of my idea💖
Anyone that wants to be tagged on it??
#one shot#oneshot#ryan gosling x you#ryan gosling x reader#ryan gosling#sierra six#sierra six x reader#court gentry#court gentry x reader#fanfic#the gray man#the gray man 2022#comfort#hurt/comfort#fluff
20 notes
·
View notes
Note
i’m waiting for some new sierra’s six stuff!!! need it sooooo bad!! xoxo
I plan to start on part 3 of The Other Fitzroy tomorrow while it's slow at work! However, what do you want to see more of? Just smut, series (that will prob have smut eventually), or more oneshots with different plots?
#elusive answers#sierra six#i dont have much planned aside for the other fitzroy series for him right now#the others were ideas that popped in my head#but if yall wanna see more smut or just different oneshots#i can see what i can do there!
15 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi love your little bird and kitten works I was wondering if you could do a Tony one? Do what ever you like with it!
Thank you so much, lovee! Sorry for the late reply~ AHEHEHEHEHEHHEHE actually I have a Tony fic in the same universe as little bird and kitten. It has been sitting in my WIP for months.
#daniella answers 💜#my wip is funny#i have a sierra six fic#i have a oneshot of captain america#i have the story for nick fowler#i have tony stark fic#someone help ahuhu
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
Witness in the Dark
※ Sierra Six x Claire's Older Sister!Reader ※
{ masterlist } ※ { ao3 } ※ { requested fic }
※ Summary: Don't we all just want to feel the companionable reassurance of another human being?
It only takes a single tragedy to tear your life to shreds and make it to where you're unable to sleep through the night. You tell yourself that you will never trust a bodyguard again, but things don't go according to plan when a man with a number for a name is assigned to the Fitzroy household while your uncle is away
※ Rating: T for suggestive themes and canon typical violence.
※ Content/Tags: Slow burn, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Night terrors, Pining, Unspecified age gap, Movie based - Alternate Universe, No use of Y/N, Obsessive behaviors from both parties, Descriptions of injuries, Mentions of parental death, Mentions of past kidnapping, Mentions of past torture, Implied death of minor character(s)
※ Word count: 12,637
※ Status: Oneshot/Complete
※ Author's Notes: I don't know what came over me. This really got uncontrollably out of hand and ended up being wildly self indulgent. Huge thanks for @danime25 for proofreading this. I owe you my life.
"Ladies!" Your sister's nurse calls as she walks into the room. "I want to introduce you to Six. He'll be looking after the house while Mister Donald is away."
You look up from your position next to Claire on her bed only to meet the eyes of the man following the nurse. They're startlingly blue. His face is impassive as he turns away and surveys the room. He carries himself with an easy grace that hints at the violence that his body could produce. He reeks of danger. You instantly don't appreciate his presence. You had fought with Uncle Fitz tooth and nail over hiring a bodyguard for the duration of his trip away from the home. This man’s presence here means you have clearly lost that argument.
"Only the two exits?" He questions, moving past the bed to stand at the ceiling to floor windows.
"Yeah." Your tone is hard, biting. The nurse gives a small gasp at your rudeness and says your name disapprovingly.
The man, Six, turns away from the window to look at you with a raised eyebrow. You stare at each other silently, sizing the other up. There’s a flicker of some emotion that you might label as respect in his eyes before Claire, picking up on your hostility, throws her hat in the ring.
"We don't chew gum in this house." You've never loved your little sister's faux-snob act more than in this moment. She snaps a photo of him with her Polaroid, staged records forgotten. He doesn't look particularly pleased about it. It’s more exasperated acceptance than anger though.
He's silent for a moment before speaking. "I'm sorry. I wasn't briefed."
There’s a trace of a smile on his face. It’s irritating and you have to look away from him. You stare at a record sleeve like your life depends on it. He asks for the photo and picks it up. You see a flash of a tattoo on his hand as he plucks the Polaroid off of the bedspread. Poorly done and worn with age. He’s definitely one of Uncle Fitz’s prison recruits then. One of the most morally dubious options he could have saddled you with in his absence. Perfect.
He says his goodbyes to you and Claire before leaving the room. Your heart is beating irrationally rapidly and your mouth is dry. The man with a number for a name is stirring up nothing but bad memories. You know you won’t sleep well tonight.
───※ ·❆· ※───
“What kind of name is Six anyway?” Claire asks first thing in the morning after she tosses herself into a chair at the kitchen table. The man in question gives her a long look.
"007 was already taken so…" He says with a relaxed shrug, coffee mug in hand. He's leaning against the kitchen counter in the same suit as yesterday.
You choke back a laugh at the sight of your sister's expression. You accidentally meet Six's eyes over her head. There's warmth in them that douses your amusement immediately. You sober up and turn back to your breakfast. Softness in someone doing his line of work felt… wrong. He isn't trustworthy, you decide, no matter how kind he acts.
───※ ·❆· ※───
You wake up with a start. The coppery tang of blood mixed with the dry powder of concrete lingers in your subconscious. It takes several heaving breaths to clear your airway and bring you back to the present. You shakily sit up. You press your palms into your eyes. You try to forget the sensation of a knife in your skin. You're here. You're safe . You're one of the last people your sister has. You're the stable one.
You get to your feet in the dark bedroom and open your door to step out into the hall. You trail unsteady fingertips down the plaster and paint as you make your way to the kitchen and living area.
There's a barely audible scuffle and you peer through the gloom to see Six stalking you. You catch the barest glimpse of his face in a strip of moonlight. It's intent. Predatory. There's no hint of recognition, not while you move through the darkest parts of the room.
You feel cold. Your pulse starts to hammer in your veins. Your throat works uselessly. Words won't come out of your mouth. You forge along to the kitchen and fumble for the light. The kitchen is awash in a blinding glow right as you feel heat against your back. It immediately withdraws as the bodyguard removes himself from your personal space. You don't turn to face him while you get a glass from the cupboard and fill it with ice and water at the fridge's dispenser. You stare blankly at the burnished steel while you take sip after sip.
You refill your glass. You blink. You take a drink. You pretend like your mind isn't shattered. You pretend like the man your uncle hired hadn't been about to…
"Are you alright?" Six's voice cuts through the fog in your mind. It's like a lantern has been lit to guide you back into the waking world.
You find yourself then and turn to look at him. You study him. He looks slightly rumpled and tired. There's tension around his eyes and his mouth is set in an almost apologetic frown.
"Just another nightmare. Sorry for disturbing you."
The frown deepens. "You didn't. I was caught by surprise, that's all."
"Fair warning, me out here like this is probably going to be a regular occurrence." You smile wanly. "I know you want us in bed, but I don't do the whole staying put thing so well most nights."
He just nods. He's accepted your words without protest. The frown fades away.
You gesture with your glass in the vague direction of your bedroom. "I'm going to go ahead and excuse myself. Goodnight, Six."
"Goodnight."
───※ ·❆· ※───
Weeks go by. The household falls into a comfortable enough routine. Claire ribs him good-naturedly every chance she gets. He's always got a faint aura of amusement every time she takes a shot at him. You hadn't yet seen him get angry. Pretending to be annoyed? Yes, but never actually expressing any negative emotion beyond mild exasperation. Not yet, anyway.
He sends the both of you to bed every night after Claire's nurse takes her leave. You inevitably get up in the middle of the night after another vivid nightmare. Six is always either watching the camera footage or doing his rounds. He's stopped being surprised by your presence after the night he hunted you. You linger in the kitchen doorway night after night, watching him keep vigil. He's got a soft face, you've decided. There's tension there, likely from worry and lack of sleep, but not cruelty. You've begun to wonder if he has the capability for it. You know he must. Uncle Fitz has kept you in the dark about a lot of the work he does, but you know a kind man wouldn’t have been a candidate for whatever program your uncle runs.
───※ ·❆· ※───
You're woken up a few nights later by the sound of hands scrabbling on your door. Your eyes snap open and you remain frozen for a second before you hear Claire's muffled voice. You're immediately out of bed so fast you stumble and twist your ankle painfully. You fling the door open and next thing you know, your little sister falls wheezing into your arms. "Something's… Something's wrong." She gasps out.
She can't breathe and is clutching at her chest with weak hands. Horror races down your back and you're pulling her into your arms in a clumsy embrace, desperately trying to keep her upright.
"Six!" The name is torn from you in a shout. You never thought you would be screaming for a man you'd told yourself you couldn't trust.
He's there in an instant. He puts a steadying hand on your back before he gently pulls Claire away and lifts her up into his arms. She wheezes again and both you and Six freeze.
"I'm okay." she whispers. She looks so small and breakable in the bodyguard's thick arms. Like a bird plucked from the sky, held the mercy of a giant's hands.
"Can you get the keys for the car and unlock it?" His voice washes over you. Its steadiness anchors you to reality. You manage a "Yeah." and take off through the house to the garage, making a pit-stop to snag the keys from their bowl. Your ankle is throbbing. Six is close behind, his brisk stride and long legs keeping time with your hurried scrambling. You mash the unlock button on the fob and throw yourself into the backseat. Claire is gently deposited in after you. Her head is resting on your lap. You comb through her brown hair with shaky hands.
"Mount St. Mary's." You tell Six the moment he's halfway into the driver's seat. "They're the ones who put her pacemaker in."
He grunts in response, backing out of the garage. You don't remember when you handed him the keys or when the garage door was opened. You don't think about anything other than your little sister. You can't lose her too. You've already lost so much of your family and of yourself. The ride passes in a blur. You're only fleetingly aware of the passing lights. Your heart is hammering in your chest like it's beating for Claire and you both. You whisper pleas and promises to her, stroking her forehead with shaking hands.
You're pulled out of your trance by Six yanking the passenger door open, and you help guide your sister into his capable arms. The medical team whisks Claire into the back immediately the moment he has her on the stretcher. You're left in a stiff, vinyl chair in the waiting room. Bodies haven't been in it long enough to soften the material. You're filling out intake paperwork on your sister's behalf. Six stands next to you, hands clasped in front of himself. You glance over, checking his watch every few seconds, your leg bouncing in place. Nervousness and fear wash over you in all-consuming waves.
He catches your glance as your eyes dart over yet again.
"You holding up alright?'' His questions surprise you. He rarely is the one to initiate conversations. His gaze is steady, grounding, blue eyes watching you intently.
"Not really." You admit, inhaling and exhaling jaggedly. He nods. There's tension around his eyes. Is he worried too? You have to look away from his face and instead talk to his watch. "She's my sister. I need to keep her safe. I can't lose her too."
You hear him make a noise in response. You watch the seconds tick by one by one on his watch. The two of you are silent for approximately thirty-seven of them before Six breaks the moment by undoing the metal clasp. He pulls the watch away from his skin, revealing a bar of ink across the underside of his surprisingly delicate wrist before he's handing it to you.
"Here."
You stare at the dangling watch blankly before looking up at his face. "What?"
"Keep it safe for me for a while." His tone leaves no room for argument. You reach out with hesitant fingers and take it from his grasp. The steel is warm in your hand. You swallow thickly and drape the watch over your wrist, waiting for the sickening feeling of having your hands bound to hit you. It doesn't. You clumsily latch the buckle. It's sized perfectly for the man diligently standing at your side, no possibility of tightening it without it being resized altogether. It hangs off your wrist like a loose bracelet and you realize then just how big Six is.
He hides his mass well. His muscles are concealed discretely enough underneath blazers and tailored trousers. He simply doesn't take up space in whatever room he's in, always the expert at being unremarkable, unobtrusive, and not worth remembering. But this… this is a dead giveaway. You cast a sideways glance at his hands and, for a dizzying moment, you wonder how your hand would look pressed palm to palm with one of his.
"Miss Fitzroy. Your sister is cleared for visitors now if you would like to see her." A nurse's voice cuts into your illogical musings.
You stand up so abruptly that the chair you were just sitting on screeches agonizingly loud on the polished vinyl flooring before it thuds into the wall. The nurse flinches slightly, but Six is steady at your side. He falls into step behind you as you follow the man through the winding hallways to Claire.
The doctor stops you at the door, arm barring you for a moment before letting it drop. "She's stabilized. Tell your uncle there was a programming glitch. We were able to repair it. Non-invasive." She pauses for a moment, giving the man hovering behind you a hard look before continuing. "The remote system flagged it ten minutes before he pulled up."
"You're able to monitor from that distance?" You interrupt.
"We can keep track of her pacemaker from just about anywhere. You may see her. She can be released later tonight after we have her under observation for a while longer.” The doctor catches your pinched expression and adds. “Just to be safe.”
You nod, gaze bypassing her to focus on Claire. She’s been watching the exchange and, at your attention, she pulls a weak smile under her oxygen mask while raising a pale hand to flash the rocker sign. The doctor finally steps aside but not before blocking Six as he makes to follow you into the room. “Only family allowed.”
You look at her incredulously and open your mouth to protest before Six cuts you off. “I understand. Thank you, Doctor.” His tone is bland, unemotional. He arranges himself to stand with his back to the inside of the open door. He’s obnoxiously in the way of anyone that would need to come or go. He spends the passing minutes as they bleed into hours standing there like a steadfast sentinel. Back straight, hand clasped over his right wrist, left wrist startlingly bare, head lowered in waiting supplication; he’s the very image of patient servitude.
You sit at your sister's side in your own vigil. The three of you wait in tired silence until a nurse finally announces Claire is free to be discharged.
She fusses as she's helped into a wheelchair. You and Six stand aside, letting the staff fight the battle. They win, but as soon as everyone spills out of the automatic doors, she's pulling herself out of the mobility aid. She gently slaps away yours and Six's reaching hands when the two of you try to steady her. "Don't you dare."
"But-" you start to protest before you're immediately shut down. "I can walk to the car. I'm not that much of an invalid."
Six doesn't even try to say anything, just forges ahead through the parking lot like nothing happened. He's learned by now that there's no arguing with your little sister. The traitor. You and Claire make it to the vehicle after him and you move to slide into the back seat with her but she pulls a face.
"You're smothering meeeee." she exaggeratedly whines. You give her a flat look. "Smothered." she insists. She dramatically points at the front of the car and raises insistent eyebrows.
You end up buckling yourself into the front passenger seat with an exasperated sigh. You look over at Six. The tension has bled away from his face. He looks more relaxed, relieved even. He notices your stare and the two of you make eye contact. You roll your eyes pointedly at your sister’s antics. Six maintains a serious expression until it cracks and you’re rewarded with the bodyguard's smile.
Six's arm brushes ever so slightly against yours when he puts the vehicle into reverse and then into drive. The feeling of his warmth lingers like a brand on your skin. His watch hangs heavily around your wrist. You fight the urge to gently touch the gleaming metal and instead interlink your own fingers together hard enough to hurt.
You spend the car ride sagged against the leather of the passenger seat, desperately trying to focus on the passing scenery and not the man seated next to you. Not his kindness, not the way he had kept you grounded. You tell yourself he was just doing his job. Any bodyguard would have been tender and careful with your sister… and with you. You try to not read into what Six offering his watch to you for "safe keeping" might possibly mean.
Soon you're back at the house, waiting in the garage with your little sister while the hired man does a sweep of the building to make sure no one has breached the perimeter while it lay vacant. Claire is tucked against your side. She's bleary eyed with exhaustion.
"Clear." Six's voice cuts into the silence of the garage.
You tow Claire along with you and sit her down at the table. She slumps with her cheek resting in her hand. You busy yourself with getting a bowl of ice cream set in front of her.
She gulps it down in huge mouthfuls. Six sits to your right at the head of the table while she eats. His eyes are focused on the screen of his laptop. You're sitting across from your sister, half curled up in the dining chair. The adrenaline has long since left your body, leaving you feeling heavy with exhaustion.
"You feeling better?" Six directs at Claire.
"Just another Thursday." She says with a shrug. "Uncle Donald and my sister say this is the best medicine. Ice cream. I tend to agree."
"They're smart people."
"Only family I got."
Six’s response is instant, like he’ll choke on the words if he doesn’t get them out of his mouth fast enough. “Fitz’s the closest thing to family I’ve had in a long while.”
"Maybe that kind of makes us family."
You catch the way that he smiles. He ducks his head to hide it, but you see the hopeless spread of it across his face. There’s something so tender and vulnerable in his eyes that you get stung by a pang in your chest. Your heart aches for the people sitting at the table with you. Claire for carrying the loss of your parents and Six for whose closest hint of a familial tie is his boss. You get pulled out of your spiraling thoughts by Claire yawning.
"You should go to bed." His voice is soft.
You haul yourself to your feet, exhausting hanging on you like a blanket. You whisk Claire’s empty bowl away and gently touch her shoulder. “C’mon, you heard the man.”
She grumbles a little and stands up with you. You’re about to guide her to her bedroom but she pauses and turns. “‘Night, Robot.”
“Goodnight, Claire.” He sounds exasperated with an undercurrent of amusement.
He doesn’t look away from the screen as you and your younger sister retire for the night. You fall into bed, wrung out from the hospital trip. It’s not until you’re firmly under the covers and settled into bed that you realize you’re still wearing Six’s watch. You stare at it, warring with yourself on if you should scrape yourself off of the mattress to go give it to the bodyguard keeping vigil at the table or to just set it aside to give to him in the morning. You do neither of those things. You fall asleep watching the silver metal reflect the moonlight peering through the shivering curtains. You do not dream of your past captors and their leering smiles that night. Instead, you dream of a comforting hand on your wrist, the gentle hum of a deep voice.
───※ ·❆· ※───
The three of you settle back into routine following Claire’s hospital visit, but things have shifted slightly following that night. You gave Six his watch back the following morning before your sister got out of bed and before her nurse arrived for the day. He took it from your hesitantly offered hand. His thick fingers gently brushed your palm as he lifted the piece from it. Your wrist has felt desolate, too light ever since you took it off. You try to ignore it all, try to regain the distance you had before. You don’t succeed. Something about Uncle Fitz’s hired man keeps eroding the walls built from mistrust and agony.
───※ ·❆· ※───
You snap awake, soaked through with rapidly cooling sweat. You’re certain you didn’t scream out. Your throat isn’t sore, but your face is wet, moisture clinging to your lashes. You must have been silently sobbing through your nightmare. You uncurl yourself from your tensed position and drag yourself out of bed. You walk through the darkened hallway to the kitchen. You make sure to roughly trail your hand along the wall and clear your throat. It won’t do anyone any favors to startle Six.
You get your glass of water and make your way into the main sprawl of rooms. The bodyguard is sitting at the kitchen table, laptop open, as he is most nights. You pull out a chair and sit down with your glass. You look at it hollowly, trying to ignore the lingering terror from your nightmares. You can't but notice Six’s eyes flickering over to you now and again. There’s a concerned crease between his eyebrows.
“Rough night?”
“The usual. As Claire says, it’s just another Thursday.” Your voice comes out more bitter than you intend. You tighten your grip on your cup until it feels like it might shatter in your hand. You force yourself to loosen your clenched fingers.
The man seated at the table with you gives an acknowledging hum, sedately chewing his gum. He doesn’t press, doesn’t try to force any explanations out of you. You relax a little in your seat. Having another human being awake and nearby is a comfort. You rest your cheek on your hand and observe him. He looks tired. The light coming from the screen serves only to highlight the weariness weighing down his face and stooping his usually rigid shoulders. Looking at him like this reminds you of the night you watched this man and your sister interact after he drove you both home from Mount St. Mary’s.
“She’s happier with you around, you know.”
There's such a long silence following your unprompted comment that you don't think he'll respond but he finally does. "She's a good kid."
"Yeah. Yeah she is." You don’t think you could have clung to life in the wake of the incident without her there to be strong for. Most weeks, she was the only reason you bothered to try to function.
You drain the rest of your glass and stand up. The ice clinks. You dump it in the sink and put the cup in the top rack of the dishwasher. You felt wrung out enough to attempt sleep again. You pause in the doorway and look back at the man at the table. "Six."
He looks up, eyebrow raised. His lips are slightly parted.
"'Night."
"Goodnight." You can’t decipher his tone.
Your nightmares don’t return that night.
───※ ·❆· ※───
About a month later, you’re screaming and thrashing in your bed. You’re choking under your captor’s hands, the sensation of soaked cloth over your face. You feel the pressure of those cruel fingers on your throat, over your mouth. Water moistening every ragged inhale. You can’t breathe.
Six’s response is all but instantaneous from the moment he hears your first scream. He pushes your door open, one hand on the knob and the other wrapped around his drawn gun. He’s sweeping his eyes across the dark room, There’s no attacker to find, there’s only you writhing on your bed, plagued by your own mind. He holsters his weapon and goes to your side. He tries calling your name, but there’s no acknowledgement, only your panicked wheezing. He puts one knee on the mattress for stability and grabs your upper arms. He tries to shake you awake. That gets a reaction. You start fighting him. Your hands claw and hit at him. He ignores it and repeats your name, asking you to wake up with an edge of desperation to his voice. He’s wildly unprepared for this. A physical enemy he can handle, but this…
You come out of it, going limp in his hold. Your chest is heaving. You blink away the lingering horrors of your dream and look up at him, horrified. For a split second your panic flares anew until you focus on his face. You remind yourself that you know this man, that you trust him with your sister’s life. He releases his grip on you and leans to turn on your bedside lamp. You wince against the explosion of light before bolting upright to reach towards his face. He’s scratched and you wonder if he’s going to be sporting a black eye. He lets your fingertips rest on his cheek for a heartbeat, something unreadable in his eyes before he’s withdrawing his knee from the mattress and standing at the side of your bed. He’s the picture of composure.
“I’m so sorry.” Guilt is suffocating you almost as much as the man in your nightmare.
"You don't need to apologize. I should. I wasn't briefed about how to handle it." He sounds genuinely sorry, a touch of distress bleeding into his tone. It twists the knife of guilt deeper. You feel your eyes start to well.
"No, no it's not your fault.. I don't want to be like this, I'm sorry." The tears spill over. You turn your face away and scrub your hands over your cheeks.
He hesitates and sits down on the bed next to you. There's a yawning span of distance between the two of you. There's not a hint of anger or frustration coming from him, not even pity. just.... sorrow. Understanding.
"Fitz briefed me on your history." It's blunt. matter of fact.
"Then you know about the...." You hesitate.
"Yeah.” He answers before continuing. “Does he know how bad it gets?"
"No… I never told him all the details. I didn't want to burden him. He's got enough to worry about." You shrink into yourself. Your eyes focused on the items cluttering your nightstand.
"Your wellbeing isn't a burden." There it is. There’s a taste of the anger you’d been waiting for in his tone. You squeeze your eyes shut.
"I'm the stable one, Six. I can't let everyone down again ." You laugh a little, self-deprecating. You press your palms against your eyes. Baring down until stars explode behind your closed eyelids.
He hums, and you feel the shift of the mattress as he stands up. You think he’s leaving, disgusted with you and your emotions, but the heat of his presence doesn’t go away. The warmth of him bleeds through your sleep clothes. You can feel him looking down at you. You nearly jump out of your skin when he nudges your arm. You look up at him, startled. He quirks an eyebrow.
“Come on.” He says, offering his hand to you. You take it. He easily guides you up onto shaky legs.
He has you follow him down the hallway and to the dining table. A path as familiar as an old friend by now. He motions for you to sit at the table, and you mutely follow his direction. You hear him move around in the kitchen. He returns with a bowl of ice cream and a full glass of water. He sits both in front of you.
"I have it on expert authority that this should help. All the smartest people I know support it." He's so serious sounding. You look at him flatly. He holds his grave expression for a beat before he winks. You crack a teary smile and lay into the ice cream like it personally insulted you.
He settles into a chair across from you while you eat. He occasionally glances over at the open laptop’s screen to check the security footage, but his main focus is on you. You feel a little self conscious under his gaze. You scour your mind for something to say, anything to lessen the intensity he’s directing towards you.
"Do you ever sleep? Like… go to bed sleep?" The question comes out of nowhere. a flash of surprise crosses his face. You'd seen him cross his arms in his chair and tip his head back. Caught him leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, hip cocked for stability. But the thought of him actually dressing down into pajamas and tucking himself under the blankets seems.... implausible. too soft for this man who is alert and buttoned up into his crisp slacks and fitted shirts no matter the hour of the day. You half supposed he showered in the damn things.
"Not as often as I should. I don't sleep easy either." The honesty surprises you.
"Why?" It's probing but you're too exhausted and raw to care.
"Too many memories. My line of work isn't exactly conducive to pleasant dreams." You wonder if he would have been willing to be so open this entire time or if something changed between the two of you. When would it have changed? Were the moments you found significant also important to him? Was he starting to crave your company in the inexplicable way as you’ve begun to crave his?
You almost apologize to him for prying, but you stop yourself. You nod instead. You understand how it is to have a beast pacing the maze of your sleeping mind, pulling out the threads of your worst memories like entrails for you to witness over and over again.
"I still think about it… About them." You admit. Your eyes skitter across the table like a frightened mouse, focusing on Six's watch face before darting away. You can’t tell the time from this distance. There is a pressure welling up in your throat. Something is clawing its way out into the open.
“Talk to me.” His request is firm, paving the way for your words. He takes his watch off, a mirror of the other night. It slips free of his arm in the same way, inky black revealed on the underside of his wrist, tendons shifting, the movements delicate. He sets the watch on the table in front of you. The metal links clatter on the polished wood surface. You glance up at his face, shadowed in the dim light. “For safekeeping.” He remarks.
You reach out and lift it from the worn surface, running your fingers over the band. The weight is soothing in your grasp. The seconds tick by and it feels as though your heart is trying to race them. You finally open your mouth and release your burden.
“Claire had her birthday party that day. It was the last good day we had with our parents. It was hard to keep the security straight since there were so many people in the house. I didn’t think anything was wrong when two men came up to me and introduced them as part of the security detail. I still didn’t think it was weird when they asked me to come with them. How could I have been so stupid ?” Your breath catches, anger palpable in your voice. Six twitches like he might reach out, but he stills and you continue.
“They got me out of the house. I wasn’t strong enough to fight them off when they put me in the back of the SUV. They… they kept me for days asking questions I didn’t know the answers to. They didn’t like that I didn’t know anything. They tried to be more persuasive… so I started making up things. I just wanted them to stop but they wouldn’t. The wrong answer or the right answer, it didn’t matter. They offered me in exchange for a ransom and eventually they pulled me out of the basement. My parents were there to do the handoff. The guys wouldn’t let anyone else do it. We made it about three miles down the highway before they caught up with us and shot out the front tires. I don’t think they expected anyone to live after we went through the guardrail, so they just.. drove off. Left. I don’t know how long I was in the car staring at my parents. Claire was too young to understand that I ruined her life. I’ve been waiting for her to realize what I did. She hasn’t yet but she will.”
“How did you ruin it?” Quiet, disbelieving.
“I got our parents killed. I shouldn’t have gone with those men. I should’ve known better.” You hear a noise like a wounded animal. A creature left for roadkill, great heaving breaths rattling in that damaged chest. It’s you, you realize dully, you’re the animal. There’s a large hand enveloping your wrist. It’s Six and he’s holding onto you.
“How could you know?” He asks. You shake your head, a sob escapes you. You feel shame. Grief. Six’s hand squeezes almost tight enough to hurt. It grounds you, you can’t escape into your own mind. Not with that insistent pressure to stay . You feel the metal of his watch biting into the skin of your palm. It’s a good kind of ache.
“It wasn’t your fault. You trusted people you were meant to trust. Who could blame you for that?” he insists. His eyes are too soft, too kind.
“Uncle Fitz.” It slips out, involuntary. You would bite your own tongue off if it could take back the betrayal. You don’t dare to look at the man seated across from you. You had all but swung a bat at the person who he said was the closest thing he had to family.
His hand withdraws from your arm, and for a moment you’re certain that he’s going to walk off and leave you sitting here by yourself. He doesn’t, he surprises you once again. He simply leans further over the table, capturing your hands with his before plucking his watch from your ironclad grasp. He lays it over your much smaller wrist. He handles you with so much gentleness it almost hurts. He secures the clasp and simply… holds your hands. He says your name and you look up
“Your family loves you.” He states simply. He says it like it’s an indisputable fact. Like it’s something as true and honest as the rotation of the Earth. You nod mutely. You can’t argue, not when he says it with so much assurance. He gives your hands a final, comforting squeeze and stands up. He gathers up your dishes, bowl, spoon, and glass. The bodyguard makes a soothing gesture to stay seated when you make a motion to rise and help him. You listen to the domestic sounds of him running the sink and loading your used dishes into the dishwasher. Your eyes start to drift shut. There’s a weight off your lungs, your burden has been dispersed, even just for a little while.
There’s a soft touch to your shoulder. It’s Six and he wants you back in bed. You get to your feet and let him escort you to your bedroom door. You feel oddly nervous, fidgeting with your fingers and avoiding meeting the hired man’s eyes. It feels like the awkward end of a weird date where everyone was too uncomfortably honest.. No matter how delusional that sounds even to yourself.
“Goodnight.” he’s the one who breaks the silence first. You feel relieved.
“‘Night, Six.” is your response as you put your hand on the doorknob and slip into the room, away from his unreadable gaze. When you fall asleep for the second time that night, you dream of steady hands marked with prison tattoos.
───※ ·❆· ※───
The morning dawns without preamble. It feels like you have barely laid your head on the pillow. You check the time on the watch hanging loosely around your wrist. Less than four hours have passed since your night terror and subsequent comforting via the household bodyguard. Your morning routine feels more laborious than usual. Every movement feels like crawling through tilled soil.
You’re dressed for the day and walking into the kitchen when you hear your little sister badgering Six.
“What happened to you, Robot?” she asks.
You pop your head around the corner to take a look at the man she’s addressing. You stop cold. It’s a mess. He’s a mess. The skin around his left eye is puffy and bruised. There's clear nail marks on his cheeks and down to his neck. Any exposed skin had taken the brunt of your panic. You can even see some redness through his facial hair. You feel sick, betrayed again by your body. Your own hands had tried to tear him apart.
"Well..." he starts and shrugs his jacket off. He folds it and drapes it over the back of one of the chairs.
He's about to go on his outdoor rounds, which you and Claire have secretly dubbed ‘enrichment time’, and continue wearing a trail into the yard. If he’s feeling particularly comfortable, he might sneak a nap in one of the lawn chairs now that the sun is up. Provided that he’s sure the two of you are secure and can survive without him awake for an hour or so.
"Your sister beat me in a fight. I'll have to hand in my championship belt." It's relaxed and easy. He gives you a conspiratorial wink when Claire rolls her eyes with a scoff.
You match his earnest tone with your own. "You should have seen it, I was about to get the folding chair and everything."
“Ooh-kay, I’ll just assume it was a weird sex thing,” she comments, turning back to her breakfast. “Looks like you already won his watch though. Congrats.”
Silence follows. Claire smugly scrapes her spoon around in her bowl, capturing every last shred of cereal. There’s a self-satisfied smile on her face. Neither of you protest. Either you let it go and hope she loses interest in the bit, or you launch into a defense that will only get her to double down. No matter what, you’ll be the losers.
Six pushes a heavy exhale through his nose and walks out of the room. You follow him right out the back door and onto the deck. The two of you stand there for a moment in companionable silence. It’s beautiful out here. The sun is a sedate creature in the sky. She's lazily casting her rays over the yard. The water in the pool is sparkling in it, lapping playfully at the concrete walls. Six’s shoulders are still tense in your field of view. He looks as though he’s holding himself up through sheer force of will.
“I’m sorry again about last night.” You say to his back.
“Please don’t be. Things happen.” He says with a sigh. You falter. He sounds as exhausted as you feel. You don't want to push the issue.
He gestures for you to sit in one of the deck chairs by the pool. You don’t, instead choosing to trail him as he does his rounds. He’s lit by the sun. You’re in his shadow. His hair looks like a field of golden wheat. You almost want to run your hands though it in order to feel the softness for yourself. You instead soothe the urge by toying with the band of his watch still loosely encircling your wrist. He looks back at you every once in a while, eyes dazzlingly blue in the bright sunlight. You had never noticed the angles of his face before, the curves of his nose with its distinctive bump, the set of his cheekbones, how his facial hair is darker than the hair on his head. You hate that you're noticing these details now. After the events of last night, any tentative bond feels tainted.
The morning grows warmer as you drift behind him like a ghost. Eventually he rolls his sleeves up to reveal his forearms. You start to understand why people in bygone eras got so flustered at the sight of a lady's ankle. His wrists are bodice ripping enough, you suppose, but the space from his fingertips to the crook of his elbow? That is home to so much previously unseen skin. Had he been rolling up his sleeves every morning? If you had simply looked out one of the windows, would you have seen the sight that you’re witnessing now? Would you have seen the distinct veins trailing up the insides of his muscular arms? What about the tattoos whose mere existence beg to have a finger trace along his skin? You avert your eyes, not wanting him to notice you staring. You tell yourself that it’s just the novelty of it all, that the surprise at seeing him less buttoned up will wear off.
With the rounds done, the two of you are back at your starting point. The bodyguard settles onto one of the deck chairs. He lets out a borderline obscene groan as he lets his body relax against the wood. His eyes flutter closed. He shifts slightly, another noise escapes his throat as he does. You make your way to the chair next to him on shaky legs, and drop into it. He doesn’t stir. You debate on standing up, you don’t, the thought of leaving his side makes you anxious. You make yourself comfortable in your seat.
Through the open window, you can hear Claire’s record player. You hear the notes of Feel the Warm. She’s playing Mark Lindsay again. You let it wash over you. The sunlight is dappled across this part of the patio. You cast a glance over at your companion. His arms are crossed and he looks dead to the world. Your own eyelids are drooping, He’s the last thing you see before you drift off.
You wake up gradually, it’s an easy kind of waking. No wild jerk of consciousness, just the soft trickle of awareness. You’ve managed to curl on your side in the deck chair. You squirm upright and feel cloth slide down into your lap. It’s the hired man’s jacket. He must have gone back inside to get it. You touch it with hesitant fingers and look up, scanning for him. He’s currently out of sight, but you do see Claire in the hammock chair across the way. She’s engrossed in her phone and frantically tapping at the screen. You check the time on the watch in your possession before you catch a glimpse of Six coming up the patio steps from the lower yard. He’s got a sandwich in one hand and his own phone in the other. He’s intent on the device. He glances up and accidentally meets your eyes. He jumps slightly as if startled you’re awake. He recovers and gives you a nod.
“‘Morning.” His mouth is full. You know Claire will give him the tongue lashing of a lifetime if she notices.
"It's after twelve." You playfully retort, watching unimpressed as he fights to swallow the bread in his mouth. He’s really struggling for a second before he gets it down, his throat working roughly. You get to your feet, carefully folding his jacket over your arm. You approach him with it.
"Good afternoon then." He says quietly. You swear you catch the ghost of a smile on his face as he looks at you.
“Thanks for the blanket.” You say, offering it to him. He takes it with his unoccupied hand before shrugging it on, doing a quick change of hands with his lunch.
You move to take off the watch and return that as well, but he stops you with a disapproving noise. “You’re keeping that safe for me, remember?”
You pause for a moment, mind racing wildly with the effort to make sense of his words. To find meaning in them. Your hand falls away from the metal and you surrender with a mute nod. If he wanted you to keep it for him for a while longer, who were you to protest? It’s a strange kind of comfort to have it.
───※ ·❆· ※───
Things come to another disastrous head some weeks later. It happens after the nurse sees Claire tucked into bed before heading home for the evening. It happens after you give your sister your own goodnight wishes. You had gently brushed her hair from her face and gave her a kiss on the forehead even if she scrunches her face in mock disgust each time you do. There’s no telling which moment between the two of you will be the last. You hadn’t had the luxury of knowing that your mom’s wet pleas for help would be the last gift from her in that twisted hunk of metal. You wanted your little sister to have a happy memory of you if a goodnight ever turned into a goodbye. Less nightmares that way.
You had stood up from your seat on the edge of the bed, made sure to smooth her blanket out. “Sweet dreams, Claire.” you said before you extinguished the slow glow cast by the lamp on her nightstand.
“‘Night,” she had said to you before yelling. “‘Night, Robot!” in the direction of the door.
You heard a weary sounding response from the ‘robot’ in question. Six was hovering in the hallway, patiently waiting to escort you to your bedroom door. He’s been diligent in performing the action every single night without fail since your impromptu wrestling session with him. He also hasn’t let you return his watch to him yet. You closed the bedroom door behind you, stepped into the hall and nearly brushed against the tall man. He moved back only enough to give you the barest clearance to get past him so he could trail after you for the scant few steps to your own door. It seems lately that he’s been standing closer to you. It also seems like his eyes have been lingering more on your face than the surveillance feeds at night when you emerge from your room, wide eyed and shaken from whatever terror that had gripped you. Your exchanged goodnights haven’t been anything out of the ordinary though, even if his voice was lower… more intimate than it used to be.
The bubble officially bursts for you when you abruptly jerk awake. You assume it was a nightmare you can’t remember, though you don’t feel any of the usual symptoms. There’s no tremors or wild breathing. You’re just… awake. You think about laying in bed and trying to drift off, but there’s a sense of unease you can’t shake. You make up your mind and shuffle over to the door. Like any other night, you turn the knob and walk out into the hall.
Like a snare snatching a rabbit, rough hands seize you. Your mouth is covered, fingers digging in harshly. And with a sudden drop of your stomach, you register the sensation of a gun pressing into your side. The metal’s coldness burrows though the thin layer of your sleep shirt. You’re frozen in shock, mind racing. Where's Six? Where's the bodyguard uncle Fitz had hired? He was supposed to protect you and your sister. Keep you safe. Why wasn't he doing his job? Why was this man in the house?
Tears start running down your face without your permission. Your sobs are broken off against the inside of your mouth. They can’t escape the crushing pressure. A scream you can’t release is building in your throat. What if this man did something to Claire?
The gun digs in deeper, grinding against your ribs. He drags you down the hall and into the living room. It’s dark and you flinch as you feel something sharp dig into one of your feet. You whimper. The floor is littered with broken glass. The sound of it shattering must have been what woke you up.
“Shut up.” the man holding you hisses, giving you a tooth rattling shake while he leans over your shoulder to see where he’s steering you. His breath is sour. “Where is he?” He must mean Six.
The bodyguard must still be able to present a problem if this man is asking about him. You’re not completely alone in this. It’s enough to sharpen your mind. To direct your focus. Your eyes are straining to make out anything in the darkness. It’s a mess of shapes that are so familiar in the daylight, but they look like strangers in the darkness. You manage to recognize the coffee table before the attacker does and you pull your leg out of the way. He slams into it and stumbles. He curses loudly through the pain of hitting his shin on the corner. You see your opportunity and savagely bite the hand covering your mouth. The saltiness of blood washes over your tongue but you bury your teeth in deeper. The tendons and nerves give way beneath your teeth. You go until you hit bone and hang on. Even if you don’t make out of this alive, you’re going to make damn sure this fucker doesn’t get to keep full use of his fingers.
He’s groaning, blinded by the shock of pain. You dare to release your hold on him in order to slam the back of your head into his face as hard as you can, throwing yourself into a backwards jump to do so. He lets out a wounded noise and clutches his face. He’s completely let go of you to do so. The gun is on the floor now, dropped in the surprise of your retaliation. You skate awkwardly on the glass as you make a run for it. The floor feels wet under your feet as you sprint for the hall. You’re leaving a trail of bloody footprints in your wake. The scream you’ve felt building weakly escapes. It’s a too quiet utterance of Six’s name. You can’t find the ability to yell as loud as you need to. You’re nearly sightless from a lack of light and terrified tears. You’re battering against the walls and furniture like a moth around a lightbulb. You make it halfway down the hall to Claire’s bedroom when you feel it. A brush of the assailant’s hand against your back. He shouts when he misses you, and you jitter to the side, making contact with the wall right as he slams into the floor. You put your back to it and look down, eyes wide enough in terror to make out the shapes of two struggling men.
Six is on top of the man who had grabbed you. His silhouette is identifiable even in the murky dark. Relief turns your legs into jelly. He’s come for you after all. You allow yourself to go limp and slide down the wall, curling up on the floor. You squeeze your eyes closed so you don’t have to put a visual to the violence you’re hearing. It’s wet, crunchy. Eventually you only hear the heaving breathing of one man. You don’t know how long you sit there shaking.
You’re coaxed into opening your eyes by Six’s voice saying your name. Your bedroom door is ajar and the light is on, illuminating the hallway enough to comfortably see, but not enough to where you can’t pretend the dark smears and streaks are shadows. The attacker isn’t in the hall any more. Six is kneeling in front of you. He’s got a cut on his cheek but otherwise looks unharmed.
“Are you with me?” It’s said with aching concern.
"Yeah… Yeah I'm here." You’re all too aware of your stinging feet, the ache of your muscles, the pain in the back of your head.
Relief floods his face at your words. He reaches out but stops himself before making contact with you. You notice that his knuckles are split open and already bruising. His hand hovers in the space between your bodies, trembling slightly like he can’t bear to touch you but withdrawing is equally torturous. You rock onto your knees and shove yourself into his arms instead. They’re instantly around you. He holds you to himself. It’s all you can do to cling to him in kind. If you could nestle alongside the lungs in his chest, you would make a home in his rib cage.
"You did well. I'm sorry I wasn't able to keep him from you. His pals kept me busy." His voice is full of bitter frustration.
You shake your head and speak against his collarbone. “Is Claire okay?”
"She slept right through it. She's still asleep. I just checked on her." He soothes, running a hand up and down your back.
“Good…” you respond, unspeakably thankful. You could cry.
“Do I have your permission to pick you and take you to your bed? I don’t want you walking with your feet like this.”
“Yeah, but I’m too heavy?” You’re surprised and uncertain. Sure, he had slammed around a grown man like a rag doll, but what if….
“Believe me, you’re not.” He sounds almost amused.
He eases you up onto your knees and over his lap. He encourages you to put your arms over his shoulders. It’s startlingly intimate. You can easily see the fine lines around his eyes at this distance. His breath is warm and against your face, smelling faintly of the watermelon gum he chews. You have just a second to try and process it before he’s gaining a foothold. He stabilizes you with one thick arm under your thighs and his hand on your back. You reflexively gasp and clench the back of his jacket in your hands. Each of his steps is steady. There’s no sign of strain even as he navigates your bedroom doorway. He carefully lowers you to the edge of your mattress and withdraws his arm. Your thighs release their death grip against his hips and you settle into place, feet off the ground. You avoid looking at his face, you know yours feels like it’s on fire.
You notice that he had already moved your trashcan to your bedside and collected the first aid kit and a roll of paper towels. He must have known you’d cooperate with him. He drags your desk chair over and takes a seat. He pats his thigh encouragingly, and you place your heel right above his knee. He steadies you with a firm hand around your ankle. He removes the shards of glass. He doesn't let you jerk away, not with the grip he has on you, even when the tweezers catch on a particularly deep piece. He works in silence and you eventually allow yourself to lay flat on the bed while he does his task. You don't ask what happened to the man in the hallway. You don't ask how Six got detained in the first place. He doesn’t volunteer the information. The time passes and you’re halfway asleep by the time he’s tying off the wrap securing the bandages on your other foot and carefully easing your leg back down from its elevated position on his thigh.
"Please stay." You ask the ceiling. You feel more than see Six freeze in response to your question.
“I shouldn’t.” He sounds conflicted. You prop yourself onto your elbows to get a better look at him.
“Do you not want to?”
“It’s not that. It’s anything but that.”
You bite your lip and decide to throw all your cards on the table. “I sleep better when I'm around you. You keep the nightmares away.”
He looks surprised, devastated even. His demeanor couldn’t have been any different than if you had asked him to bare his neck and slit his own throat. Resigned, but he would still pick up the knife for you.
"Give me a minute," is his response.
He gathers up the supplies and turns off the light on his way out of the room, plunging you into the familiar dark of your room. You're not sure what exactly he does while he’s away, but he comes back sans jacket and with his sleeves rolled up. He carries the acidic tang of cleaning chemicals. He settles back into your chair after tossing the laptop on the desk. The two of you watch each other for a moment
"Are you okay?"
"Emotionally? I've been better. Physically? I'm fine. Just a few scratches and a bruised ego. " He's soft. You nod, reassured.
You keep your eyes on his face. It’s lit by the soft glow of the screen. It’s become an unhealthy habit, observing this man. You drift off to sleep facing in his direction. He's there when you wake up. He's clearly gotten up at some point to shower, but he did come back to resume his sentence at your side. You greet each other and he excuses himself back to the common areas of the home.
───※ ·❆· ※───
It becomes a thing, you spending time in his presence outside of what follows your nightmares. Something changed in you after the attack. It has culminated in a strong desire to be near him, to be within the frame of his reassuring gaze. Most of the time but not always, you go with him on his surveillance rounds. You walk with him through the yard. It always feels a little like you’re two society members having a chaperoned walk, but it’s soothing. Routine. You’ve also begun sitting with him in the hours before bed. At the table or on the couch while he watches the TV. The two of you simply exist together.
You rarely return to your room most nights, choosing instead to make your bed in the living room. If you lay just right on the couch, you can spot the bodyguard keeping watch throughout the night. His presence in the room eases your mind enough to allow you to peacefully sleep. You wish that he hasn’t become so essential. You don’t want to think about what your uncle’s return will mean.
He accepts your new routine without question. You notice that he always has the throw pillow moved from the armchair to the couch on the nights you don’t tell him you’re going to bed. There’s no blanket in the living room, but you usually wake up with his jacket of the day draped over you in lieu of one.
───※ ·❆· ※───
One night, you and Claire manage to bully him into a game of monopoly after the nurse leaves. You’ve been made the banker because Six doesn’t trust your sister and she doesn’t trust him enough either.
“You just landed on my boardwalk. That’s fourteen hundred bucks.” Claire announces.
Six takes his hand off the game piece and gives her a look . “I thought you owned the brown properties, not the blue ones.”
She picks up the deeds for Boardwalk and Park Place and waves them pointedly in his direction. “Nope, fourteen hundred. Fork it over.”
Six lets out a genuinely flustered growl. You have to smother your laugh. He counts out the remainder of his money and tosses it in front of your sister. He’s woefully short and out of assets. You and Claire had run him ragged the course of the game until she managed to bankrupt you with some suspiciously underhand tactics. Looks like she got to Six as well.
“I’m out.” He says, resigned.
Claire stretches her arms over her head and lets out a satisfied sigh. She then slumps back into her chair in smug victory as the bodyguard extracts himself from his seat at the table to do his nightly check of the doors and windows. She leans over and taps the watch on your wrist.
“He hasn’t won this back yet?”
“Oh… uh. No.” Your answer sounds flustered, even to you.
Your little sister raises her eyebrows. There’s a mischievous gleam in her eyes and she opens her mouth to say something before pausing. She instead gets up and gives you a squeeze around the shoulders. You return it with a one armed hug. “‘Night, sis.”
“‘Night. I’ll see you in the morning.” You return affectionately, letting her go.
“‘Night, Robot!” She cheerily shouts. There’s a responding grumble from the direction of the garage. Claire flashes you a grin and a thumbs up.
She’s in her room by the time Six finishes his checks. You’re in the middle of putting up the game when you feel the weight of his eyes on you. It’s just the two of you alone. He sits back down at the table to help you with it. He’s like a fire against your left side. You’re surprised he didn’t sit in his usual spot at the head of the table.
He lets out a yawn that he can’t suppress. He’s more undone tonight than you’ve seen him yet. He’s wearing a t-shirt tucked into slacks today. No blazer. His hair is tousled, not smoothed into place with product like usual. You think he looks more approachable like this. Your hands touch when you both go to scrape the same pile of deeds off the table. You both freeze. You hear your heart pounding in your ears and with it muffling every other sound, you trail your fingers over the top of his. He shudders when you brush over his knuckles and skim over the dots tattooed into the meat of his thumb. He doesn’t move, staying perfectly still for your exploration. You reach the horse on his forearm and you think his breath hitches in response. You linger on the horse, using your pointer finger to trace its outline. You follow the swoop of its tail, down the outstretched hind leg.
A soft groan from the man you’re touching makes you remember yourself. You withdraw your hand like you’ve been burnt. He twitches and jerks his own hand towards you like he’s about to reach out and stop you, but he doesn’t. You can still feel the sensation of his skin under your fingertips even as you glue your eyes to the remaining monopoly money and sort it into the tray with unsteady hands. You finish putting up the game in silence. You sleep in your own bed that night. He escorted you to your room.
───※ ·❆· ※───
You wake up weeping the next night. You lay on the couch staring at the living room ceiling while tears involuntarily run down the sides of your face. The imprint of spider webbing glass still swirling around in your mind. You must have made some kind of noise, because Six is making his way across the room.
You sit up and take a swipe at your face. “I’m sorry.”
"You have to let it out somehow. May I?” He asks, gesturing to the space next at your side. You nod and scoot over to give him slightly more space.
He puts the ever present laptop with its surveillance feed on the coffee table before sitting down. You feel your cushion dip. Against your better judgment, you lean against him. He’s solid. He relaxes underneath the pressure of your body. You instantly feel better. You watch the cameras with him for a while, sighing along with him as the local monkeys throw the lid off the trashcan at the curb in search of a meal. You’ll have to clean up after them after the sun rises. It’s one of the downsides to living in Hong Kong.
You stay leaning against him for a while, but a stiffness in your neck gets you to change position. Moving slowly so he’s fully aware of your movements, you carefully lay down. He’s taken the place of your improvised throw pillow cushion. Your head is resting on his thigh. He puts his hand on your upper arm and gives it a reassuring squeeze. He leaves it resting there, heavy and warm.
You wake up a few hours later. The sun is cascading through the living room, throwing rainbow hues on the floor thanks to the decorative glassware. You’re comfortable, too comfortable you realize. Your eyes widen in horrified surprise. You’re still using the bodyguard as a pillow. He's shifted slightly through the night, more slumped and relaxed. He's slid down further, and your face is firmly pressed against his hip now instead of his thigh. You know that you’re going to have the imprint of one of his belt loops on your cheek. His arm is loosely draped over you with his hand tucked underneath your side, a bastardized attempt at spooning. You crane your neck to catch a glimpse of his face. He’s sound asleep.
You try to sit up without disturbing him, but his arm tightens around you and applies pressure. You’re locked into place. Your mind races. If the nurse or, worse, Claire comes into the room and sees you and Six like this… You have to get up. You put a hand on his thigh and use it as a support to push yourself up. He’s instantly awake from the overt movement. He lifts his arm off your body and lets you sit up. You turn to say something, but find him already staring. His blue eyes are focused on you, they’re sleepy and confused but quickly sharpen to alertness. He looks vaguely distressed. All you can do is offer him a smile and squeeze his leg. You stand up and he follows. Your day goes as usual.
───※ ·❆· ※───
Your nights are largely the same, except that Six seems more distant. He doesn't linger as closely or as comfortably as he did before. Your interactions with the man are more professional. It’s as though weeks, months , of getting to know each other have been erased and you’re back at the beginning. Strangers again. It hurts. You miss him like hell even though he’s right there. Your sleep is worse. It’s almost as bad as in the weeks following the incident that started them in the first place, but they’re different. Amongst the disjointed scenes, there’s a broad shouldered man with dirty blond hair walking away from you in your nightmares now. You scream for him but no sound ever escapes you, just noiseless air. You never see his face.
You finally have enough when he escorts you to your room one night. You haven’t slept on the couch for over a week, and he’s taken that as his cue to resume seeing you to your bedroom door. You turn to face him as always in the doorway. Instead of saying goodnight like you do every night, you confront him. It even catches you by surprise.
"You're avoiding me.” He doesn’t deny it and you think that hurts more than the newfound distance itself.
“Why?” You ask only to get more silence. He won’t look at you.
”What did I do wrong?” Your voice trembles and you hate it. You fumble to take off his watch, to return that final tie between the two of you. He reflexively clamps down on your wrist before you can undo the clasp, pinning your hand to your own wrist. He releases his near crushing grip almost immediately, but the ghost of it lingers. Point taken. You let your arms fall to your side in a clear display of frustration, willing him to talk.
“It wasn’t you. I overstepped. Your uncle hired me to do a job and I've stepped beyond my purview. " The confession is rough. Torn out of him. The corner of his mouth pulls down in a grimace.
You stare at him blankly. "What?"
"I allowed myself to be too close with you. I apologize. I was unprofessional." He explains, but he won't quite meet your eyes. He hasn't for a while. Not since the morning following the night you fell asleep on him.
"You were... unprofessional?” You question, absolutely lost.
"Yes. I let my feelings about you affect me and my work.. I’ve become… compromised." It's matter of fact. It’s said like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on you.
You reach out and grab his jacket lapels. He looks at you like a beaten dog might, as though you might strike him. He makes no motion to pull himself from your grasp. You swallow hard and let out a breath.
"What about my feelings for you?" You ask. His breath catches and he shakes his head, disbelieving.
“It would be better if you didn’t feel anything for me.” There’s heartbreak in his blue eyes even as he looks at you like there’s nothing else in the world he would rather be seeing.
“Better for who?” Your mouth is unbearably dry as you ask the question.
“You. I’ll only jeopardize you.”
”Six…”
You pull him down and you press your mouth against his. He's rigid and unmoving for a moment before he's kissing you like a dying man who has just been offered immortality. His hands come to rest on your back. He grips your clothing like it’s a lifeline keeping him from going under. You gently nip at his bottom lip and he gasps against your mouth, a broken little noise. He tastes like watermelon gum.
You pull away. “Jeopardize me then.
That forces a quietly helpless laugh from him. "Now that was unprofessional." His voice is hoarse.
"I had to give you a proper example."
"Good job. I feel exampled.”
" Good ." You say and kiss him again. He's ready for it this time. He keeps it slow. His hands gently trace your body. He's slowly rubbing his thumb back and forth against your side. You step back, walking him into your room. His breathing is ragged and he's gripping you with a desperation you can’t put your mind around. You stand there, intertwined in each other. His facial hair is rough against your skin but the burn feels good. Your hands make their way around his neck and you gently card your fingers through the short hairs at the nape of his neck. He makes a wounded sounding noise in response before he pulls away. His hand is cradling the side of your face to keep you in place while his eyes roam across your face. It's as though he’smemorizing you, imprinting the fine details of this moment into his mind. As though he’s preparing to say goodbye. He trails his fingers gently down your jaw before he lets his hand drop.
"Will you stay? Can we sleep?" You ask before he can make up a way to excuse himself.
There’s a dizzying moment of silence before his face softens. “Okay. Yeah.”
The two of you are left to navigate the awkwardness of getting ready for bed. You spin your finger around in a circle and Six immediately gets the idea. He puts his back to you while you change into your sleepwear as quickly as you can. You turn around after giving him the verbal ‘all good’ in time to see him pull off his jacket and toss it onto the desk chair he had occupied when you first realized how addicted you were becoming to him. He pulls his belt off, coils it around his hand before setting it aside. You watch him unbutton his dress shirt. His fingers work deftly to slip the buttons through the holes. He shrugs the shirt off and lays it over the jacket. He’s in his undershirt and slacks. He bends down to untie his shoes and sets them aside. He straightens up and there’s nervousness on his face. You’ve never seen him nervous before. Worried? Yes, but not nervous.
You slide into the bed and fold down the other side of the blanket for him. You gesture for him to come lay down beside you. He approaches warily and settles in stiffly at your side. His head is on the pillow, hands overlapping on his stomach. He looks like a body in a coffin. You gently touch his hands. He jolts.
“Are you okay?” You ask softly, letting your hand rest on top of his.
“I haven’t slept in the same bed as someone since I was a child,” he admits.
“Oh… and that was…?”
“Over twenty-five years ago.”
You allow yourself a moment to grieve for this man before you pull away to shut off the bedside lamp.. You roll onto your back and flop your arms to the side. “Come here then. I’ve used you as a pillow. It’s time for me to return the favor.”
You feel the mattress shift under his weight and he hesitates, hovering over you with arms braced on either side of your body. It’s intimate, having him over you in this way. It’s enough to make you want to kiss him again.You hear him draw breath to raise some kind of concern so you just wrap your arms around him and pull him down on top of you. The weight of him pins you into the mattress. It’s comforting. He’s heavy and warm, akin to a weighted blanket. Granted, a weighted blanket wouldn’t have a muscular thigh wedged between your legs or be breathing against your neck in a way that makes you want to shiver. You fight to ignore your body’s response to him and work on easing the tension that’s holding him rigid against you.
He gradually relaxes as you trace your hands over his back. You feel more than hear him groan when you pass over a particularly sensitive spot. The rumble feels almost like a purr against your chest. You narrow in on that location, working your fingers into the tight muscle. He allows himself to go limp on top of you, no longer stiffly trying to spare you the brunt of his mass. You run your fingers through his hair, gently scratching his scalp as a reward for letting himself relax. It earns you a low moan and an involuntary shift of his hips. You’ll have to keep that reaction in mind for later.
Six’s breathing soon evens out. Years of exhaustion and sleep deprivation have him rapidly sinking into the oblivion of sleep when offered such a precious comfort. You fall asleep with your hand still in his hair. You have the most peaceful rest of your adult life. There’s no night terrors, no pain, no fear, no longing, you just sleep .
The bodyguard is still asleep on top of you when you wake. His breath is whistling slightly through his nose. Not quite a snore, but it’s a sound that gets a fond smile out of you. You wish you could wake up like this every morning. Just this once has given you an insatiable longing for more. You bite the inside of your cheek at the thought of the future. Uncle Fitz is due to return from his trip soon, which means the dismissal of Six from the Fitzroy home to complete whatever assignment is next on his task board. You don’t figure him for the abandoning type though. That way of thinking about him doesn’t fit in with the loyalty and thoughtfulness you’ve seen him exercise in his time spent with you and your sister. You’re sure that he’ll find a way to stay in contact after this job ends.
You gently smooth down his hair. He shifts and buries his face against the hollow of your throat more firmly. You pause, hoping you didn’t wake him, but then you hear a sleep roughened voice say, “Don’t stop on my account.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
#the gray man#sierra six#courtland gentry#sierra six x reader#the gray man fanfic#ryan gosling#ryan gosling character#the gray man (2022)#courtland gentry x reader#my work#my posts
272 notes
·
View notes
Text
You Had Me At Soup
masterlist // ao3
*Summary: While in the Sierra program, Six never got sick. Now that he was adapting to civilian life with Claire and the woman he roped in to play Claire's mom, he seemed to be down with a bug of some kind.
*Rating: T For Teen
*Content/Tags: Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Fake Dating, Pining, So Much Mutual Pining, Sickfic
*Status: Oneshot/Complete
A gift for a friend, enjoy!
Six heard the plink of fat raindrops hit the window of his bedroom. In between the rhythm of the precipitation, a splitting pounding in his head. He tried to sit up, but that seemed to only make the pain worse for him. His stirring woke up the woman beside him and she saw as he curled back up under the covers.
“Six?” She asked him. She sat up and her hand ended up resting on his forehead, “Oh you’re burning up.”
“I need to take Claire…” He made an effort to sit back up before deciding getting up was overrated
“I’ll take her to school. You have to rest.” She said in a soft tone. Sure it was soft, but he knew it wasn’t a suggestion.
“Okay.” He sighed, “Tell Claire I love her.”
“I will. I’ll go wake her up.” She got up and closed the door behind her. As quickly as he woke up, he went back to sleep. It was only a 30 minute nap, he confirmed so with a quick glance at his phone. He sighed and checked his phone,
“Sent 1 Minute Ago
Got Claire to school, be home soon.”
“Okay.” He whispered to himself before getting up to go to the bathroom. He looked like shit. He’d never been this laid up over the flu before, but he supposed his immune system wasn’t operating at 100 percent just yet. Something about the healing process after almost dying. He managed to muster enough energy to hop in the shower and clean up his facial hair but even that seemed like too much. He crawled back into bed bitterly and looked up at the ceiling. By the time he was back in bed he heard the door jingle open and she called out into the house,
“I’m home!”
“Hi.” He tried to shout back, but this only brought on a fit of coughs. She opened the bedroom door and came over to him
“How long did you sleep for?” She asked him. It was like she was a nurse doing rounds.
“About 30 minutes.”
“Six.” She tisked, “Get some more rest. I’ll wake you up after I’ve made lunch.”
“Yes ma’am.” He took a deep breath and shut his eyes. She stood by his side until she saw the weight of his body sink into the mattress and went down into the kitchen.
---
He jolted up in bed and looked at his phone to check the time. 2 hours and 14 minutes. Better. He got up out of bed and wrapped the spare blanket around his shoulders to walk down to the kitchen.
“Hey.” She turned around to face him, “I just finished… I could’ve brought it up to you.”
“It’s okay.” He sat down at the island, hunched over and rubbing his hands together for warmth.
“Here.” She brought the tray over to him. A roll of saltine crackers, some soup that was warm to the touch but not scalding, and bowl of peeled oranges
“I could’ve peeled the orange myself.” He said to her, popping a wedge into his mouth
“I know you could’ve.” She returned his highly guarded sarcasm with a cold wall that worked just as hard to keep him out as it kept her inside herself. He wanted to break it. He needed to know how she felt… felt about the situation he’d pulled her into. About him.
“Thank you.” He replied after a couple seconds of silence. He took the spoon and blew on the soup before bringing it up to his lips. He let the soup linger on his tongue for a little too long just to make sure his taste buds were still intact. Practically the only sense of his not shot to hell. It tasted… wonderful. It was somewhere between made from scratch and straight from a can but the line seemed to blur. The pulled pieces of chicken were tender, but the noodles weren’t melting into nothingness. He tried to skirt around the piece of celery and carrots that were floating in the broth, until he saw her leaning against the counter with her arms crossed. He looked back down at his bowl and took a spoonful of the veggies up to his mouth. She nodded silently and turned around to start working on dishes. He had to force himself to get the celery down, but he managed to finish it and went back to savoring the fruit. He got up to grab a drink and she pointed at a glass to her side, filled with water. He nodded and took it back to his seat. When he was done with his meal he thumbed around with the cabinets on his side of the island to grab a piece of gum. He wasn’t able to find any so he grumbled quietly and went to rest on the couch. He turned the TV on to just flip through his options. It gave his fingers something to do while the rest of him was bedridden. He decided on something he’d seen a couple of times as a kid and just listened to it. It reminded him of days when he’d watch something with his brother… it was just what he needed to lull himself back to sleep. He woke again a couple of hours later when the house door opened. Clare tried to be quiet, but she couldn’t help running over to Six to tell her about her day.
“Hey, Six.” She smiled at him, “Guess what?”
“What?” He sat up
“You know that math test I was freaking out about?”
“Yes I do.”
“I passed it.” She pulled the paper from her backpack and showed it to him, “I got a couple of answers wrong, but I got the foundation down. I talked to Mr. Garcia about what I could do better next time, and he helped me figure it out.”
“I’m so proud of you.” He gave her head a little scruff, “Didn’t it pay off to work on it?”
“Yeah. You know it’s my hardest subject.” She sighed, “I just hope I can remember it for the final.”
“You will.” He reassured her before she stole the TV remote from the footrest in front of Six. She started flipping through channels before stopping on a teen drama of some kind.
“I know you’re quiet Six, but you’re not normally this quiet.”
“It’s fine Claire.” He replied
“He’s been sick all day.” His partner peaked her head into the room and explained to Claire
“Six.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve been taking care of him all day.” She walked in and put a fruity electrolyte drink in front of him. With his daughter and her looking at him, he took a swig of it and swallowed it down. It wasn’t bad tasting by any means, but his body wasn’t used to it. After he took a minute to grow accustomed to it, he drank it down quickly.
“That’s good.” Claire sighed, “You’ll be okay tomorrow though right?”
“Yeah. It’s just another Thursday.” He smiled at her, “I’m going to head up to my room. Let me know if you need me.”
“I won’t, get some rest.” Claire yelled after him as he was halfway up the stairs. Like a shadow, the woman followed him up the stairs and went to the master bathroom. He heard her rummaging for a minute before she opened the door.
“What did you do?” He raised an eyebrow
“Just made you a bath.”
“You saying I stink?”
“It’s good for the sinuses.” She replied as she got under the covers of their bed and pulled out the book she’d been working on for the past couple of nights.
“Fine.” He went into the bathroom and saw the water waiting for him. He removed his pajamas and sunk in as far as he could fit in the tub. He let his head rest along the edge and took a deep breath. Something peppermint smelling wafted through the air. It was relaxing. Despite having slept the whole day away, he could have fallen asleep there. Would tonight be the night? When he finally let go of all reason and kissed her forehead in a way only a husband and wife should. Would she give into the desperate pleas in his eyes as he wanted to be held all through the night? With a sigh he pulled himself out of the lukewarm water and grabbed a towel. He went back into the bedroom and saw her curled up to her side of the bed, resting her head against the back of her hand on her pillowcase. Slowly he inched forward and as he was about to kiss her cheek, he pulled away fearing she might still be awake. When she didn’t react to him in her space, he laid next to her on his side. He faced away from her and shut his eyes. He felt the weight in the bed shift but stayed still. He felt the tips of her fingers linger along his spine and her face pressed into his back. This being before her lips touched the spot where his shoulders met with his spine. He controlled the shiver he felt as she made contact with him and acted as though he was out cold.
“Feel better.” She whispered, the air pushing against his skin before she rolled back over. Six waited in silence until he knew she was fully asleep before getting up out of bed and walking down to the kitchen.
“I’ve gotta go.” Claire hung up on whoever she was talking to and looked over her shoulder, “Hi Six.”
“Hi.” He replied, sitting down next to her
“Aren’t you going to ask who I was on the phone with? Oh it was just a friend from school, don’t worry Six. Hey…”
“I’m fine Claire.” He insisted, when Claire picked up that he wasn’t responding to her usual dry sense of humor
“No you’re not. Is it because you’re sick?”
“No.”
“Is it because of her?”
“No.” He lied
“Six.” She sighed, “Just tell her how you feel.”
“I don’t have anything to tell her.”
“Well then you should show her.”
“There’s nothing to show her.”
“Six you’re so frustrating to deal with sometimes.” She huffed, “I need to go to bed anyway. Good night.”
“Good night.” He sighed as she left. He grabbed a pack of gum to chew on while he sat and contemplated. He couldn’t keep this up. This would breach every rule he learned in the Sierra program, to let himself be vulnerable with her and tell her how he feels. Still it killed a piece of him every day knowing that she wouldn’t crack before he did. “Why me…” He shook his head and went back upstairs to finish sleeping for the night. He woke up the next morning feeling about as well as he did the day before, if only slightly better. He was able to get up on his own, but at her insistence she drove Claire to school that day again. When she got back she did another check on him.
“Not nearly as feverish, but still high.”
“That sucks.” He sighed
“I’ll make you lunch again.” She said, matter of fact
“Fine.”
“Do you want something different?”
“Surprise me.” He curled back under the covers, knowing she’d tell him to anyway. She went downstairs and started making noise as she looked for an appliance. While she was distracted with that, he decided to hit the shower once more. He didn’t feel like he could nap again even if his life depended on it, so he decided to flip through one of her books she had finished while he waited for the smells from the kitchen to waft up the vents. He lost himself in the book though, because he saw her attempting to open the door while holding his tray of food. He rushed to the door and held it open for her and she quietly thanked him. He nodded and got back into bed. “Smells good.”
“Thank you.” She replied. It looked like she had more to say, but whatever it was she didn’t. He looked over the tray, the soup didn’t have veggies floating in it but was a pureed consistency with a bright yellow base. There were some spices sitting on the top layer, and without bothering to look at what she had put on the side, he dug in. It was warm and comforting, and it felt more nourishing. He put down the spoon and drank it straight from the bowl before muttering about how good it was.
“Thank you.” Her face cracked with a gentle smile. He moved on to the bread on the side, pulling it apart with his fingers and looked over at the bowl of fruit. Strawberries today. Not his favorite, but surely she had a reason to give him those so he ate them with the little fork she had included on the side. She sat on the edge of the bed as he finished up and he pushed it away from himself. “I’ll go take this downstairs.” She leaned in, and Six leaned in towards her. Her body not anticipating this, her lips nearly brushed up against his forehead. They both sat still and she darted her eyes away from his gaze. He took her head into his hand and forced her eyes back up to meet his. He let everything that he felt pour into his eyes before she broke contact and kissed his forehead. He took a hand and brushed his lips over her knuckles. He held her hand against his chest before kissing it once more. She moved closer to him and tilted her head so as to kiss him before he stopped her. When she looked at him with confusion he explained,
“I don’t want you to get sick too.”
“Maybe it’s worth it.” She said before her lips made contact with his. He wrapped his hands back around her neck as he made an effort to deepen the kiss.
“I’ve… fallen for you.” He said, not wanting to admit how long he’s wanted this
“I have too…”
“Be honest with me.” He said, with the implication of ‘Bare your soul to me’
“Yes?”
“How long have you felt this way for me?”
“I…” She didn’t want to tell him, she had built this wall around herself and if she said anything her protection from feeling was gone. Six knew it all too well, which is why he wanted to hear from her first. “The first couple of months after you told me you needed someone to act as your wife was fine. I fell in love with Claire as though she was my own daughter the minute I met her…. And you, it felt as natural as breathing to feel as though we were in love.”
“Oh.”
“I’ve never had to act because I’ve felt from the bottom of my heart that you were my ‘one’. I was just afraid that you didn’t return my feelings.”
“I understand.” He sighed, “I’ve had feelings for you pretty much since the same time. The way you take care of Claire… when you chewed out the admin.”
“You like me yelling?” She raised an eyebrow
“It was cute honestly.” He smirked back, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man in so much fear before. I was a little scared too.”
“You have nothing to fear, my love.” She kissed his cheek with a smile as she pulled away, “Now… you should rest.”
“I should.” He sighed, “But would it be too much if I asked you to stay by my side?”
“How?”
“Just lie in bed with me.” He replied
“Okay.” She put his tray on the side table and got under the covers with him. They stared at each other before Six closed the space between them with her in his arms. She rested her head against his chest for a second before he said,
“I…”
“Yes?” She looked up at him with doe eyes
“I have to tell you, I wasn’t asleep last night… When you kissed me. It gave me the courage I needed to tell you how I felt today.”
“Oh.” She said before hiding her face back into him
“Can you… hold me like that?”
“You want me to spoon you?” She asked
“Yes please.”
“Anything for you.” She kissed his cheek before he rolled over. Her arms were like magnets to his torso and they pulled his back into the front of her body. She moved up in the bed so her head could comfortably rest on his shoulder and she kissed the back of his neck. His hand worked its way over one of hers and threaded his fingers in between the spaces left by hers. He took a deep sigh as he felt the weight in his chest lift. Sure he was still sick, but with her by his side he had a feeling that he’d recover that much quicker.
#my writing#fanfic#fanfiction#my fic#sierra six#courtland gentry#sierra six/reader fic#sierra six/reader#sickfic#caretaking
33 notes
·
View notes
Note
Can you do a Court/Reader oneshot where she gets taken by someone like possibly Lloyd to manipulate Court in some way. And he has to save her and he’s freaked out bc she’s in bad shape when he finds her (emotionally and physically) Maybe even for more angst, he gets sent a video of her while she’s held hostage. But plz happy ending. Thanks!!
Prince Charming | Sierra Six x F! Reader
summary: request above ^^^
Word count: 1817 ( a long one)
Warning: blood, gore, angst, fluff
A/N: Hi!!! thank you so much for the request and feel free to send any others. I hope you like what I did and included all the points you asked for!! 💖
For a long time, you knew about the risks of being with Court or Six as the CIA calls him. Court trusted you enough to tell you his name, his history, and share a life with you. Court warned you about people coming to get you, take you, and use you to manipulate him. You would often console the CIA-adjacent man, telling him words to comfort him. When Court got upset he didn't get angry, he got stressed. It showed itself in his walking, reading, and drinking(coffee usually, not a day drinker but occasionally has a beer at night). You knew the signs. So when he was sent off for a mission in Bangkok he stress walked, you were convinced he was going to wear the wood away from the amount of passing he was doing.
“Court I’ll be fine, it will only be a couple of days and then you’ll be home and I’ll be here” Your words seemed to slow him down, taking into consideration that, yes it had been almost eight years of being together and no one had come. He reluctantly walked over to you, scooping you up in his arms and breathing in our sent.
“I’ll be home soon I promise, Hunny” That was the last thing Court said to you before packing up his bags and leaving. You waved goodbye to him from the living room window.
It only took five days after the mission in Bangkok for Loyd Hanson to show up at your door. You were doing laundry, clothes shrew everywhere when the door rang. You swung the door open and came face to face with the man in the trash stash. You look a little shocked to see a man at your door, expecting your best friend. Loyd was surrounded by a bunch of his henchmen.
“Hi sweetheart, were looking for Sierra Six?” He said, his snarky voice ringing throughout the hallway.
“I don’t know who that is. You might have the wrong address” You told him sternly, hoping he wouldn’t catch the intake of your breath or the way you were shaking. The spare gun was all the way down the hall and you definitely didn’t have time to grab it before they got you.
“That wasn’t the answer I was looking for, see I know he lives here…with you,” he said, holding up a picture of the two of you walking into your apartment building. You kept backward, before making a mad dash for the closet. One of the men took you down before you made it past your couch in the living room.
“Get off!” You yelled trying to claw your way free, but that didn’t work and soon darkness was taking over and spots danced in your vision.
+
The chair you were in was uncomfortable. The number of beatings you had taken in the last 12 hours was remarkable. Your wrist was beginning to feel raw from the tightness of the rope, and your body was in so much pain you didn't know exactly where from. Your face was swollen, your lips dry and the impending doom feeling in your stomach wasn’t going away. You hoped Court would be here soon.
“Look at that, little sunshine is awake,” Loyd said, camera facing you, then he held his arm out so he and you were in the frame. “Now Six if you don't give me the asset not only does your boss and his child die but also your lovely girl here will too. Not before I have more fun with her”
You struggled against the bods wincing at the feeling of the rawness of your wrists.
“Low life bastard” The words you muttered came out horsly. The screams you had let out in the room were enough to make anyone think someone was dying, and dying you were. Your thought felt like it had been ripped out and then sewn back in. The blood that pooled at your foot was growing. Loyd has stabbed your thigh, sliced your cheeks, chest, stomach, and meaty part of your body he could get to.
“I'm sorry what was that sweetheart,” he asked using the back of his ringed hand to hit me, sending a few spurts of blood out my mouth. Everything felt raw, everything felt on fire. You just wished that Court would find you soon.
+
It didn't take long for Court to come swooping in, saving Fitz and Claire first seeing as he found their room the fastest before taking Fitz's directions to your room. Six heard a scream come from down the hallway and didn’t think twice before bolting down it, not caring if someone heard him. He was incredibly stressed, and when he opened the door, he felt his world collapse. There you were a man over you like he was ready to have at his prey. Six didn’t think twice before shooting the man in the head. As the man fell forward avoiding your char by a few feet your eyes met. Tears streamed down your face at the sight of the dead body now collapsed next to your chair, but also at the sight of the love of your life in the doorway. Court rushed over, throwing his gun to the side and collapsing at your feet.
“Baby?” he asked, you nodded weakly, not being able to talk. “Okay, I’m getting you out of here,” he told you before carefully releasing the rope. You slumped over into his arms not being able to move, Six heart rates picked up at your unresponsive self. You struggled to sit up, Court helping you but letting you lean on him. You looked into his eyes, the stress, and anger present in them. You wanted only one thing at that moment.
“Kill him,” You told Six, his face contorted into a small smile, and one slowly etched onto your face as well. You winced slightly from the cuts on your face. The man deserve whatever Court was going to give him.
“I can do that Hunny,” Court told you, picking you up bridal, “But first to get you somewhere safe”
+
That night was something you didn’t bring up, not after Fiz gave you his house and you moved in. Claire was now a part of your family, and Fitz's obituary hung on the wall. That night had losses and gains. Court got you back and for the last month, he hadn’t left the house, refusing to leave you alone. You were still healing but most of the deep wounds were the only things left to scar. Taking to Court about things was difficult so you did it in great stride.
“Baby?” You asked into the open hallways. Court's face appeared within no time, he glided over to you, helping you t the couch. “I think…we need to talk” Court's face fell, not truly ready for what you were going to say.
“If that's what you want..” The court stated, shifting away from you, it took a moment for your brain to catch up.
“Baby, no I’m not breaking this off,” You told him, catching his hands before he can start another nervous tick. He smiled knowing you weren't getting rid of him. “I want to know how to shoot the gun you keep around the house, or…basic defense”
“You want to learn…” He asked, stopping short, he read your face, taking in the concerned look you had, “So that doesn't happen again?”
“Please” you begged, wanting to be able to defend yourself if or when something like that happens again.
“Always, anything you want,” Court said kissing your face and making you smile. He held you the rest of the day, even including Claire in the snuggle pile. The next day Court eased you into training, trying not to train you like he was. You took notice of the care he had towards you while you took in everything he said. It took a week of training, of him being so careful and steady with you that you had to ask him one simple thing. It was close to sunset, Claire had made a point to disappear knowing the plan you had. You waited outside, in a nice sundress with blue flowers all over it. Court hesitantly walked out the glass door towards you.
“Hunny?” he asked, cautiously. You need around shifting the tiny box from in front of you to behind so he wouldn't see. You took one hand out and pulled him forward.
“Hi Court,” You said smiling up at him.
“What did you do?” He asked seriously.
“I didn't do anything” you defended crossing your fingers behind your back.
“Really because Claire is never this quiet” Court said glancing towards the living room where the girl was sitting, ‘playing’ on her iPad.
“Okay, maybe I have something planned,” You said as you deflated. You held his hand and guided him to the spot you wanted him. “Will you just, stand here please?”
“Hunny?” He asked concerned, he didn't want another surprise, all Court wanted was you safe and in his arms.
“Court, you saved my life, not only when you asked me to be with you, but also when Loyd got me. You have done nothing but protect me and I can't keep watching you leave wondering if you will return alive. So I have something that I hope will make you fight harder to get home to me, that will remind you of where your home is” You told him, his face was slightly confused until you pulled out the box from behind you. In it were one simple gold band and one simple gold band with a delicate pearl. Court glanced down and up, down and up until he smiled so big, you think the sun would have competition
“Are you serious?” Court asked, his voice filled with love.
“I want to spend my life with you Court Gentry, and I want to wait by the door every time you leave,” you told him holding out the box. He took it in his hands taking the ring meant for you out and placing it on your finger before sliding the match one on his.
“Hunny, if I had known you wanted to get married I could have done all this” he joked holding onto your left hand, watching the Pearl sit on your finger.
“You're a simple man Court, you always wait for me so let me take charge and ask you to marry me” you were honest with him, wanting just this one last thing.
“Of course Hunny, of course, I will marry you,” Court said swooping in and kissing the life out of you. You smiled into the kiss, feeling all the love and passion from him in the kiss. The sunset was perfect over the sky, casting a niece pink haze onto the grounds. This was the perfect night.
A/N: Hope you like it!!
#sierra six x reader#sierra six x you#sierra six#i am so in love with six its not even funny#court gentry x reader#court gentry imagine#court gentry x you#court gentry#the grey man#the grey man fan fiction
539 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sierra Six
Look, I'm just saying....if people wanted me to....I wouldn't be opposed to writing some reader insert fanfiction about this man.
Spoiler talk under the cut.
I went in expecting a dumb action-adventure movie, but Sierra Six/Court Gentry turned out to be such an amazingly good character. He's a trained killer who is terrifyingly proficient at murdering people, but he also has a moral code and sweet, gentle heart underneath that emotionless facade. His relationship with Claire was beautiful and lent the film some much-needed heart. (When Fitz was dying and she refused to leave him I was SOBBING).
So naturally…I wanna write some reader insert stories with him.
My inbox is open for ideas, but right now, I'm thinking these thoughts.
1 - Zombie AU where Six rescues you from a bad situation and brings you back to the little cabin in the woods he's been surviving in.
“Why did you help me?” You ask, tugging the blankets up higher, like that might offer you protection from the stranger.
“Seemed like you could use it.”
“People don’t just help without a reason,” you tell him.
He turns from the stove to look at you, expression difficult to read. “Anyone ever tell you that you sound a little jaded?” He asks.
2- Six and Claire relocate to a small town where he tries to adjust to domestic life and fails horribly. Claire decides she wants to set him up with you, their new neighbor, when she catches Six watching you.
"I don't really…talk to people." He admits.
When he shifts the grocery bag up higher in his arms your gaze drops to his sizable biceps. You're pretty sure they're bigger than your head. It was attractive and distracting, even more so than his terrible Miami Vice facial hair.
"Forgive him. He's actually very charming normally," his niece Claire tells you, drawing your attention away from the prominent vein that runs along his arm. "But we're trying to lay low because he's a secret government agent and wanted by the law."
"Oh, well probably best not to talk to people then," you agree, looking up at the man in question. He closes his eyes and exhales, looking so pained it makes you grin.
"Claire," he sighs.
“What, it's a joke. Chill," she tells him, waving off his concerned look.
"Well, secret agent man, do you think you can fix the fence today?" You ask, gesturing to the project he's been laboring over most of the week. "I'd like to let my dog out without fear of him popping in your very pretty vegetable garden."
"Six is very serious about that garden," Claire whispers conspiratorially. "It's a new non-murder hobby of his.”
A variation on this is you have some trouble with a shitty ex and Six does his controlled yet violent thing which impresses you.
3 - You’re a nurse who Six visits when he's banged up and can't surface quite yet. He randomly pops into your life and you have sex with him.
#the gray man#sierra six x reader#court gentry x reader#court gentry x you#sierra six x you#court gentry#sierra six
337 notes
·
View notes
Text
Nestor Oceteva Masterlist
The Girl Is A Gun Universe - Nestor's lover is just as dangerous as he is.
Oneshots
Always - You are the only one that Nestor allows to touch his hair.
Braids - Nestor knows you are terrible at braiding.
Flowers (NSFW) - You are the only woman who has ever given Nestor flowers.
Missed You - You tell Nestor how much you've missed him.
Sweet Dreams - Sometimes you call Nestor in the middle of the night.
Mi Corazón - Nestor's found his heart.
Leaving - Every goodbye feels like it's the last one.
Fucked Up - You're not the only one that's fucked up.
Happy Birthday - You come home for Nestor's birthday.
Loaded Gun - Nestor knew your smile would kill him.
Future In Your Hands - Nestor envisions a future with you.
Show Me - You and Nestor meet in the same spot you fell in love a year ago.
Ruin Myself - It feels like an affair
Memories - You find an old picture in Nestor's things.
Choices!Series:
Part One: First Date (NSFW) - Nester and you have an unusual first date.
Part Two: Familia - (Feat: Marcus Alvarez) - Marcus discovers your relationship.
Part Three: Fair Trade (Feat: Miguel Galindo) - Miguel puts you in a tough position.
Part Four: Slaughterhouse Rules - Miguel feeds you to the wolves.
Part Five: Stay With Me - Nestor deals with the aftermath.
Part 6: Run - Nestor can't give you what you need.
Part Seven: Partners in Crime (Feat: Coco Cruz & Marcus Alvarez) - Marcus asks Coco to reach out.
Part Eight: What Happens In Reno - What you got up to in Reno.
Part Nine: Don't Give Up - Nestor refuses to give up on you.
Part Ten: Bleeding Out - Coco finds you bleeding out.
Part Eleven: One Day At A Time - Nestor and you lay your cards out on the table.
Part 12: Home - Nestor notices when you start to settle.
The Choice - Miguel discovers your relationship.
Roots - You decide it's time to out down roots in Santo Padre.
Changes - Marcus and Nestor discuss all of the recent changes in his life.
Burning Love - Nestor and you have come along way since his days in the cartel.
Call My Bluff - Nestor can always tell when you're lying.
Blood Out - Nestor talks to you about getting out.
Spray Paint - You're the only one who knows about Nestor's passion.
Stockton!Series:
Part One: El Cuchillo - An incident in the clubhouse causes ramifcations for the entire club.
Part Two: Always - Nestor learns about what happened.
Part Three: In the Dark - You and Nestor wake up to find armed men in your house.
Part Four: Sierra - Marcus takes care of the men who tried to kill you.
Part Five: Maternal - Nestor and you take refuge at a familiar location.
Part Six: Times Are Changing - Marcus and Bishop discuss moving forward with the club.
Part Seven: Graveside (feat: Marcus Alvarez) - You and Marcus discuss your mother at her graveside.
Part Eight: Canvas - Nestor struggles in the aftermath of the attack.
Safe Space - You give Nestor a safe space to work.
Good Advice (feat: Marcus) - Nestor turns to Marcus when he faces a problem.
Marry Me - Companion piece to Good Advice (feat: Marcus) - You raise the topic with Nestor.
Galindo!Series
Part One: Weakness - Miguel returns to Nestor's life.
Part Two: Revelations - You reveal the truth to Miguel.
Part Three: Ashes to Ashes - You and Nestor take a trip up to Maine to see Emily.
Tears - Nestor grieves Miguel.
The Wolf! Series:
Part One: An Act of War - A dead body in a burnt out car sets Nestor on the war path.
Part Two: Real - Nestor drowns his sorrows.
The Wolf Oneshot:
The Wolf's Just A Puppy & The Door's Double Locked
HCs:
Karoke
Proudest Moment & Most Treasured Posession
#The girl is a gun#nestor oceteva x reader#nestor mayans#nestor oceteva x you#nestor oceteva#nestor#mayans#mayans mc#mayans fx
64 notes
·
View notes
Text
First attempt at Kinktober! Some will be short, just a few sentences, while others will be my longer oneshot lengths!
Day 1 - Lloyd Hansen
Day 2 - Ransom Drysdale
Day 3 - Chris Evans
Day 4 - Chris Evans
Day 5 - Ari Levinson
Day 6 - Lloyd Hansen
Day 7 - Ari Levinson
Day 8 - Ransom Drysdale
Day 9 - Johnny Storm
Day 10 - Steve Rogers
Day 11 - Andy Barber
Day 12 - Ari Levinson
Day 13 - Dean Winchester
Day 14 - Chris Evans
Day 15 - Steve Rogers
Day 16 - Lloyd Hansen
Day 17 - Steve Rogers
Day 18 - Sierra Six
Day 19
Day 20
Day 21
Day 22
Day 23
Day 24
Day 25
Day 26
Day 27
Day 28
Day 29
Day 30
Day 31
#rose writes#kinktober#kinktober 2022#chris evans#chris evans characters#lloyd hansen#steve rogers#ransom drysdale#ari levinson#andy barber#johnny storm#dean winchester#jensen ackles#jensen ackles characters
95 notes
·
View notes
Text
Brokeback | Sierra Six x gn!reader
@spicyveganfun asked: “I wish I knew how to quit you.” “Don’t quote Brokeback Mountain at me” with Sierra Six prettyyyy pleeeeaaaase 🥺
summary: Six is glad that he can relax for a bit, that he doesn't need to worry about going back to work anymore and that he and his little sister are in safe hands.
tws: brief mentions of violence, swearing
Six laid back, his ankles crossed and the back of his head pressed against the pillow as he put one hand on his bare stomach, the other holding a battered copy of 'All Quiet on the Western Front', the sound of 'Father' by Sabaton filling the room as he dared to look away from the book; watching carefully as you put away the laundry, folding it and making sure it went in the right place. He couldn't help but to smile. All the time that he spent away from you when he was pulled away for work, weeks and months spent miles away and yet he always knew he could come back; but now there was no work. Not anymore.
He hadn't expected you to take Claire under your wing, to adopt her like she was your own, but he was thankful that you did; knowing that he could leave and that his little sister was in good hands. Safe. Protected. But he did envy you a little, knowing that the best sniper he had ever known had been retired and it hadn't so much as caused a single bullet to fly; knowing that you got out of the game years before him and hadn't had half the shit he did when he was given that fucking drive. He envied that you had a quick and clean exit. No one on your tail. Still, that didn't stop Six from being glad that you had adopted Claire, that you had taken her under your protection almost as naturally as a parent.
"Claire's at Megan's for the night," you started, "and before you ask, I told Erich to keep an eye out. He lives next door."
Six nodded, swallowing thickly; Erich was one of the guys you used to work with, a couple of ranks beneath you and more or less your best friend for years. Erich was one of a handful of people who could actually be trusted, but much like you, he had retired from the business quietly and cleanly; he lived with his wife Aneesha these days, they had a kid, Albert, a few years younger than Claire. They were good, often inviting you and Six over for holidays, especially Eid. Six liked them a lot, he knew he could relax if Erich was keeping an eye out on Claire.
"Good," Six grumbled, moving to place the book on the table as he dared to look at you with a slightly softer glare. His smile still plastered on his lips as he put his arm behind his head and tilted his head slightly to the side. "Erich's a good guy."
You nodded, daring to laugh softly. "Erich's heart is made of the purest gold, you know that."
It was true, Erich Horstmayer really did have a solid gold heart; he had never wronged anyone, he was always good and kind unless someone didn't deserve it. He got into a lot of fights when he was working, especially over refusing to take contracts that meant hurting innocents. Disobeying orders to help civilians and to get them out of the way. Openly disagreeing with those in higher ranks. You protected him a lot, using your own rank to shield him, using it to stick up for him and to ensure that he wouldn't see trouble from certain cunts. Everyone knew not to have a go at Erich, unless they wanted to risk your wrath.
Six had only seen that wrath once. Directed a new guy who had disrespected Aneesha when Erich wasn't around; the new guy went home with several broken ribs, broken fingers, superficial stab wounds to his face, a broken jaw, a broken leg with the bone poking out through the flesh. Six stopped doubting your ability to protect people after that; the bloodiest hands were the safest.
"So it's just you and me," Six grumbled softly, nodding his head a little as 'De Sade' by Slipknot came on.
"That it is," you chucked a t-shirt away, no more laundry left to put back. You did your best not to smile as you clambered onto the bed, pushing his legs apart a little as you got between them and knelt, putting your hands on his chest. "We can do whatever you want."
For a moment, all the things flooded through Six's head as he chewed at his lip, able to feel the soft sting and the flesh pull away between his teeth; trying to stop the growl that threatened to leave the back of his throat as he put he leaned back a little bit more, shifting around so that he was almost laid down entirely. "Yeah?"
"Oh, yeah," you grinned, moving around so that you could straddle his waist, the feeling of his body beneath yours was too good to be true. His soft stomach, the thick biceps, his thick thighs and the warmth of his flesh. You bit at your lip. "I wish I knew how to quit you."
"Don't quote Brokeback Mountain at me," he groaned, shaking his head. He loved that film, he really did, but the ending was so heartbreaking that every time he was reminded of the film, he could feel like his gut had been punched.
"My bad," you dared to laugh softly as you nodded. "Y'know, we could always watch it again - I can go get us some snacks, I can fill up a pitcher with some Monster... make it like a little date night."
Six smiled as he nodded back. "That sounds good, let's do it."
if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; spam likers WILL be blocked. as will blogs that refuse to reblog or to give feedback. if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM. don't just "like", REBLOG
#mlem writes#sierra six x yn#sierra six x y/n#sierra six x you#sierra six x reader#sierra six oneshot#sierra six one shot#sierra six imagine#Sierra Six#court gentry imagine#court gentry x reader#court gentry x you#court gentry x y/n#court gentry#the gray man on netflix#the gray man netflix#the gray man x reader#the gray man#ryan gosling x reader#ryan gosling imagine#ryan gosling
101 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Gray Man Masterlist
Sierra Six 💕
Headcanons:
Six when you adopt a dog
Oneshots:
Series:
Lloyd Hansen 💕
Headcanons:
Oneshots:
Series:
Six + Lloyd 💕
Headcanons:
Oneshots:
Series:
#the gray man#sierra six x reader#sierra six#court gentry#court gentry x reader#lloyd hansen#lloyd hansen x reader#masterlist
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
Both are oneshots!
my masterlist*
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#smut#joel miller#ryan gosling#the gray man#the gray man 2022#sierra six#sierra six x reader#court gentry#court gentry x reader#fluff#comfort#oneshot
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
Important Information
katie | 25 | multifandom blog
inbox is always open for conversations and to scream about fictional characters
requests are closed
who I write for
** means there is smut in the fic
want to join the Goose Groupies? (discord for fans of Ryan Gosling) send me a message! (18+ only)
Link to my Ko-Fi (tips are appreciated!)
THE GRAY MAN
The Other Fitzroy Series
**Part One** (Sierra Six x Fitzroy!Reader | 7.5k)
You’re Donald Fitzroy’s eldest niece, and Claire’s older sister. This takes place about 2 years ago when the home address in Hong Kong was leaked. Reader is in their early 20s.
Part Two (Sierra Six x Fitzroy!Reader | 6.3k)
This chapter takes place in “present day” where Reader and Claire are currently held hostage in Croatia by Lloyd. Their uncle, Donald Fitzroy, is finally brought to join them, and Six shows up to save the day. Reader has a big secret that’s finally revealed.
Part Three (Sierra Six x Fitzroy!Reader | 5.8k)
You, Claire and your daughter have been held hostage by the CIA in Virginia for 2 weeks before Court finally shows up to rescue you again. Court gets to meet his daughter for the first time and your little family heads off to a safe house in the woods to lay low for a few days.
Cowboy!Court Series
Wide Open Spaces (Cowboy!Court x F!Reader | 4k)
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.)
Oneshots
**Taking Orders** (Sierra Six x F!Reader | 2k)
On a mission with Six, you do something that could’ve gotten you killed. Six is upset that you didn’t listen to him, and decides to teach you how to take orders.
Drabbles
**Needy** (Sierra Six x F!Reader | 916)
Court is tired and just wants to sleep, you have something else in mind.
THE NICE GUYS
Holly’s Babysitter Series
Sunday Breakfast (Holland March x F!Reader | 1.8k)
You’re Holly’s babysitter, surprising her (and her father) with a homecooked Sunday Breakfast to make up for missing her birthday party.
First Date (Holland March x F!Reader | 2k)
Holly calls to tell you her father is going out to work on a case, and you’re needed to babysit. Little do you know, this is just a set up. Holland is actually all dressed up and ready to take you out to dinner somewhere nice for your first date. Holly had promised to spend the night with Jessica, but when does she ever keep her promise?
Oneshots
Just Another Case (Holland March x Private Investigator F!Reader | 3.2k)
You and Holland have been partners for the last year, solving case after ridiculous case together. Even though you’ve been mistaken as a couple countless times while working, the two of you are simply close friends. You might have feelings for him, but you’re sure he doesn’t feel the same. That is, until one particular case comes along on your laundry day, where you’re down to your last piece of clean clothing—a dress and no underwear.
DRIVE
Hot Neighbor Series
Hot Neighbor to the Rescue (Driver x F!Reader | 2.6k)
You decide to walk home from a friend’s apartment that’s only a few blocks away from yours late at night. When a group of men try to corner and grab you, your hot new neighbor shows up to save you.
THE PLACE BEYOND THE PINES
Oneshots
I Want You to Stay (Luke Glanton x F! Reader | 2.2k)
The carnival is back in town, and you’re hoping to capture Handsome Luke’s attention just like last year. After all, the news you have to share might be enough to keep him around for more than a few days.
GANGSTER SQUAD
Oneshots
Take My Last Name (Sgt. Jerry Wooters x F!Reader | 1.8k)
You begrudgingly leave Jerry’s bed and arrive back home at the wrong time, just as your uncle has realized that his mansion has been bugged by cops. You’ve been out and about more often the last month, and he believes you may have something to do with ratting him out. He places his hands on you, and when you are freed, you run right back to Jerry.
BLADERUNNER 2049
Drabbles
Dance With Me (Officer K x Reader | 872 )
One of your favorite songs comes on while you’re cooking dinner, you ask K to dance with you.
MARVEL - BUCKY BARNES
Oneshots
**Girls Night Out** (Bucky Barnes x F!Reader | 5.3k)
A girls night out with friends to celebrate finally being single again turns into being walked home by the guy who’s eyes you kept catching.
160 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
fuckmepvmps
M.
anwn
girl shadow propaganda
maengeng-blog
PromiseI'llneverletUgo❤❤
sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes
dead blog, go to @very-uncorrect for gay sex