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the-marshals-wife · 8 months ago

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Refuge (Sierra Six x Reader)

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ 𝐑𝐘𝐀𝐍 𝐆𝐎𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ⋅☆⋅ 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ⋅☆⋅ 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

A/N: It's official: I'm obsessed with The Gray Man. I've watched it 3 times so far in under 2 months, and I really wanted to write something sweet for my current favorite Goose character.

Description: Sierra Six/Courtland Gentry x Fem!Reader, established (secret) relationship; flirty, steamy fluff + angst if you squint | Warnings: suggestive themes, kissing, alcohol | Setting: post-movie | Word count: 1,746

Gif credit: user magnusedom

Imagine Six returning to you, his best kept secret, and asking you to come away with him

There was only one thing in the world that could make you open the front door of your apartment after midnight. The instant you recognize the familiar, distinct sequence of knocking, you shoot upright from your slumber and scramble off of the sofa, the book on your chest flying across the floor from where you had dozed off. Having almost tripped on the rug, you release the dead bolt and frantically fumble with the chain lock. Heart pounding, you slide it loose and jerk open the door.

Waiting on the other side like an apparition was a smiling face you weren't sure you'd ever lay eyes on again.

"Sorry for the late hour, ma'am. Could I trouble you for a cup of sugar?"

"Court!"

You couldn't help it. His name, the name only you could use, escapes your lips like a cry.

"May I come in?" he gestures.

You grab his arm and usher him inside.

"Where have you been?" you asked in a hushed voice, looking over him.

"Here, there, everywhere," he answers, leaning back against the closed door. "Spent a little time in nowhere too."

"I've been so worried about you! I haven't heard from you in months. I know that's the job, but it's been so long without a sign or anything. I was afraid something happened to you. I didn't know what to think," you say all at once.

"I know, I'm sorry. I'll explain everything, I promise. Just, let me look at you first," he says, gazing on you softly, "Wow. How is that possible?"

"What?"

"How are you more beautiful than the last time I saw you?"

You feel your cheeks turn red, but it doesn't keep you from pointing a finger to his chest.

"If you think being a smoothie is going to get you out an explanation, think again, buster."

He wraps his arms around your waist.

"Fair enough," he nods, "It's still true though. You're even prettier when you're angry."

"I must be stunning then," you smirk.

He brings his hand up to lift your chin, leaning in close, "Incredibly."

The waning space between you vanishes as he captures your lips. You lean into his touch, savoring every sensation you'd missed so much. From the warm, smokiness of his scent to the gentle scratch of his beard on your skin. When he finally pulls away, you're nearly breathless.

"Why don't you make yourself at home, stranger?" you propose, composing yourself, "You want a drink?"

"I wouldn't say no to a beer," he replies.

"Coming right up," you say, turning towards the kitchen, "They feed you in 'nowhere'? I got half of a leftover sub here, and some really leftover pizza I can nuke in the microwave."

"Tempting, but I'm good for now, thanks. Just the beer," you hear him say as you grab two bottles from the fridge.

"Good call, honestly. We can just order take out or something."

He doesn't respond, and it immediately catches your attention. You grab the bottle opener from the drawer and make quick work of the caps. With a faraway look in his eye, he stands on the other side of the modest island that separates the kitchen area from the living area. You extend the bottle towards him, and even when he takes it from your grasp, he's barely shaken from his silent reverie.

Too worried to imbibe, you set your own drink down on the counter. "Court, what's wrong? I can tell something is bothering you."

He takes a drink, which is followed by a long pause.

"Do you remember Fitzroy's niece, Claire?"

You nod. "Of course. Is she alright?"

"She is now," he sighs, setting his jaw, "Fitzroy is gone."

"What?" you say, rounding the island to be at his side.

"It's a long story, but some bad people got ahold of Claire to get to him, because of something that I did. We took care of it in the end, but...he didn't make it."

He takes another hefty drink and puts down the bottle.

"Court, I'm so sorry," you say, touching his arm, "I know how much he meant to you."

He turns to face you. "He did. Now Claire has no one, except me. And that's what I came here to talk to you about."

Your pulse quickens at the seriousness in his voice.

"Her and I have been on the run the past couple weeks. Staying ahead of Carmichael and his goon squad."

"Wait, you escaped the agency?" you ask, shocked.

"Didn't have a choice after they tried to use her as leverage to get me to keep doing their dirty work. I got her out, which means I'm out too, for good," he confirms solemnly, "I've found a place for us where we might actually have a shot at a normal-ish life."

You stare at him wide-eyed.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying...I'm all she has left. She needs me. And I need you," he says, gently rubbing your upper arms, "Before, I couldn't give you the life you deserved. But this could be my second chance. I think I might have finally gotten to the top of the hill, and I want you there with me."

"Oh Court, I don't know..." you hesitate, mind reeling, "I don't know anything about raising a kid."

He grins. "Neither do I. We can figure it out together. I mean there's gotta be a manual or something, right?"

You can't help but snort at the idea. Just as more protests are forming on your tongue, he gives you a look so disarming that you forget the words entirely.

"Come away with me, Y/N."

He takes your hand in his.

"It won't be easy, and it definitely won't be perfect. I know I've got no right to ask you to leave everything behind. But I've loved you from the very beginning, and I will protect you with everything I have."

His vow brings tears to your eyes. He laid his heart bare, and in doing so, he'd banished the last of your meager doubts.

"Well, when you put it that way," you say.

You grab the collar of his jacket in your fists and pull him into a kiss. He hums in pleasant surprise and laces his fingers through your hair. After another heated moment of rediscovery, you at last loosen your grip and surface from the embrace.

"Is that a yes?" he chuckles.

"It is," you answer, your smile becoming nervous as your thoughts turn to the future, "Do you think Claire will like me?"

"Oh, don't worry, she's going to love you," he smirks, letting you go and walking over to the window. "Honestly, I'm not sure I'm going to survive you two. This was probably a bad idea."

"Now I really I can't wait to meet her," you tease.

Your amusement fades, however, as you watch him part the curtain and cautiously peer up at the surrounding rooftops.

Dread stirs in the pit of your stomach.

"How much time do we have?" you ask.

"We should probably get you packed up," he says over his shoulder.

"Really? I thought we'd at least have tonight. Are you being followed right now?"

"Not yet. No one knows about this place. But the longer I'm here, the greater the possibility that changes," he frowns, "I need to get back to Claire. I took a risk coming here. She can't be alone for long."

You mind begins to race as your gaze darts around your apartment and belongings. The framed pictures scattered across the walls of old friends and family you hardly see suddenly meant more than anything tucked away in the safe beneath your bed. But could you even take them? Would having any ties to your old life be too dangerous?

Old life. The thought makes your head spin.

"This is happening so fast," you say as you rub your temples, "I never thought I'd just leave everything. I don't even know what to take with me."

"Hey," he says, stepping back over to you, "It's alright. Listen, I know I got caught up in pouring out my dumb old heart a minute ago, but you don't have to do this, Y/N. If you want to stay, I understand."

"No, I'm coming with you," you deny, "I want to be with you, no matter where we have to go. I've never wanted anything more. You have made it to the top, Court, and I wouldn't miss the view for anything."

All this time, you had been the only refuge in the world for "Sierra Six". Now, more than ever, he was becoming yours.

He kisses your forehead softly and smiles down on you.

"How about we just start small, and go from there. Baby steps. Like, maybe a suitcase?" he suggests.

"Sounds good," you agree, "Guess I don't need to pack the kitchen sink for wherever we're going?"

He snickers, "No, we have one of those. Got one in the bathroom too. We even have a toilet."

"I wasn't expecting such luxury," you smirk.

"I mean you have to hold the handle down a little to get it to flush, but other than that," he quips.

"Well, I suppose I'll survive," you say in mock exasperation.

"We do have a TV, so that kinda makes up for it. Plus, I got queen bed all to myself. I might could be persuaded into sharing, though."

You cross your arms, eyeing his suggestive look.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, but you'll have to sleep on top of the covers. I don't wanna get your girl germs on my sheets."

"Courtland Gentry," you grunt, smacking his arm.

You take off down the hall to your room, and he follows after you laughing.

"What? What'd I say?" he asks, knowing full well.

"Why don't I just sleep on the floor?" you pose.

You bolt over to your dresser and start rummaging through your clothes, keeping your back to him.

"Okay, you're right. That was unfair of me," he concedes.

Biting your lip, you spin around with your eyebrows raised.

He stands in the doorway, pulling a stick of gum from his pocket and unwrapping it, "You can get under the comforter."

You throw a shirt at him, shaking your head.

"Shut up and help me pack."

He pops the gum in his mouth and smiles.

"Yes ma'am."

#sierra six x reader #courtland gentry x reader #court gentry x reader #the gray man #six x reader #sierra six x y/n #courtland gentry x y/n #court gentry x y/n #sierra six x you #courtland gentry x you #sierra six imagine #courtland gentry imagine #the gray man imagine #the gray man fanfiction #ryan gosling #sierra six #courtland gentry #court gentry #my writing

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zsuo · 7 months ago

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Ryan Gosling as SIERRA SIX in The Gray Man

#ryan gosling #the gray man #sierra six #court gentry #courtland gentry #zsuoedits #userzsuo #filmedit #movie edits #movie edit #film edits #film gifs #movie gifs #film edit #film #netflix #tw blood

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hederasgarden · 7 months ago

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no thoughts just Six with a breeding kink.

i think a part of him is scared because he doesn’t think he’d be a good dad but i also think he simply can’t help himself

You guys are coming for me tonight with these asks and I love it.

Warning for lots of pregnancy talk, breeding kink, and everything in between. We also have a little angsty chit chat before getting to the good stuff.

I agree Six has a breeding kink but I also think he's deeply conflicted about it. He may not see himself as a bad person but he did spend most of his adult life doing the CIA's dirty work. Because of that, when it comes to the reader and any children they may have together, he probably feels like he's tainting them in some way. He would always be worried about the possibility of his past catching up to him and putting his family in danger.

Then there are his complex feelings and concerns about whether or not he'd be a good dad. His only example growing up was an abuser. I suspect and hope that in this AU - if Fitz is alive - Six would draw a lot on that relationship when it comes to being a parent (which isn't exactly healthy either). I have a LOT of thoughts on this topic, especially if he ever had a son instead of a daughter, because you know he'd be terrified of repeating the cycle of violence he grew up with.

Anyway, angsty thoughts aside, let's dive into some horny ones. That is, after all, why everyone is here, right?

Prepare yourself for lots of questionable thoughts below. 18+ only. Minors DNI.

Six is an observant man and picks up on everything, so he definitely knows your cycle. Probably even better than you do, and although he’d never admit it, he finds himself wanting you even more during your fertile window.

He also thinks about getting you pregnant more than he cares to acknowledge. Sometimes, he finds himself fantasizing about how your belly would look all swollen and round with his child. He especially likes to think about how that means everyone would know he did that to you. It’s a visible signal that you’re his, and speaks to that deep-rooted, primal part of himself he tries to ignore.

When it comes to fucking you, he loves having you on your back, laid out under him, so he can see absolutely everything. When he's about to come, he'll grab the back of your thighs and shove himself as deep inside as he can. Afterwards, he likes to lay his body over yours and have you cockwarm him to make sure his cum is inside you as long as possible. He definitely enjoys watching it leak out of you too, but he always pushes it back inside with his fingers.

I don't see him as a big dirty talker outside of an errant, "Let me fill you up," or "I got what you need," if he was really lost in the sauce. He would certainly talk you through sex in general with lots of things like, "That good, sweetheart? Yeah? You like that? I got you. Mmmm let me hear you..." etc.

Once he does manage to knock you up and comes to terms with everything, he is even more obsessed with having you 24/7 – especially when you're further along. He loves to take you on your side, thrusting into you slowly while he cradles your belly. Having you on your hands and knees would be another favorite of his because he can press his chest to your back and get nice and deep. He loves stroking your stomach and letting his fingers drag down to where he disappears inside you.

Unlike before, sex when you’re pregnant isn’t something desperate and hurried. It’s a slow affair. Six wants to savor and draw it out.

Thanks for sending in the ask, anon! And a big thank you to @ryebecca and @gettingvetted for looking this over! Also, thank you @elusivewildflower for letting me scream in your DMs about this.

#sierra six #sierra six x reader #sierra six x you #court gentry #court gentry x reader #court gentry x you #the gray man #is

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comabite · 10 months ago

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Six

twitter: comasuart

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notthecutesttrash · 5 months ago

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Vanilla Ice Cream

Content: Sierra Six is your newly appointed bodyguard. You only want to make his life a living hell so he can leave. That is until unfortunate circumstances make you feel closer to him, and eventually like his company.

Warnings: Lil bit of angst, reader's a brat, fluff, inebriation, blood, vomiting, language, death

Word count: 6.8k

When you saw him, all you could think was how it was just another pointless bodyguard who might fail to do their job. Apparently, you were notorious for being a spoiled brat, as your father so explained, and no one else wanted to work with you because of it. Your lips twitch in irritation at the thought. You? Spoiled? Please.

“I don’t need a bodyguard! It’s not even a bodyguard anyways, it’s a babysitter! I’m so tired of being watched every day! Can’t I have some goddamn privacy?! I’m like 25!” You yell out to your father who is as usual, too busy calmly packing things into his neatly confined suitcase.

“Enough (Y/n), you’re going to have a bodyguard because you can’t seem to sit still for once.”

“Oh, maybe because, again, I’m 25 DAD! I’m so sorry for wanting to go out and have fun!”

“I have a target on my head, your mother has a target on her head, therefore YOU have a target on your head. What do you not understand?” You’ve heard this quote a million times at this point so you just wave it off.

“Yeah, and? That target has gotten us nowhere but money spent on these so-called body guards and given us senseless paranoia. Nothing has ever happened, and nothing will. Just relax already.” Maybe you knew you were being selfish, but you didn’t care, it was true.

“I am going to be gone for not just a day, not just 2, not even a full week, but almost 2 months.” He emphasizes. “I need the best security there is for you, do you understand? Someone is bound to try something.” He gives you a finished expression and then glimpses to the maid. “Margaret open the gates for Sierra six.” Your father says. She nods and briskly walks off.

You roll your eyes and huff, “dad!”

“He’ll be here any minute now. Introduce yourself, be nice, and we will see you in 2 months.” You open your mouth to speak and he holds up a finger.

“Don’t give this poor man any trouble than he needs, or at least enough that I have to hear about it. I don’t need yet another bodyguard that refuses to work with us because of you.” Your father rubs his fingers at the bridge of his nose to display his exhaustion.

“What do you mean because of me?” You cross your arms and huff, “I don’t do anything to any of them.”

“Don’t play coy.”

You shake your head, “i’m not.” You kind of were. Just kind of.

“You are. Don’t act like every guard so far hasn’t wanted to reverse the contract and shoot you themselves.” You cross your legs and turn your head.

“They start it.” That was also most definitely not true.

A brooding man makes himself known at the doorway. A tall figure, blue grayish eyes, sandy dark blonde locks, and somehow a face and demeanor that could make a mother proud.

“Another fit pretty face.” Was the first thing you say and your father instantly gives you a look that says don’t.

Pursing your lips, you hum begrudgingly and step in front of the man. “My name is (Y/n), nice to meet you.” A clear fake smile burns into your features, and you stretch your hand out. Sierra Six doesn’t say anything, he remains stoic and silent. He then places his hand into your own and firmly shakes it. His hand felt warm and rough like he was born fighting every day, and you made a note to remember that.

“Have a safe trip Dad!” You speak with honey, tiptoeing on your pretty little expensive slippers. Planting a kiss on his cheek, you give a side eye to six. A sadistic joy twitches into the edge of your lip, and you give him one last look before he turns to his side to let you pass through the doorway.

Fitz told him it was going to be a trip, and he believed it. For the past few days all you were trying to do was tick him, to break him, to over-exaggerate every little opinion you had, to make sure he’d want to get up and leave himself.

“I despise ketchup with my fries, why can’t we just have some alternative, what do you think Mr. Sierra six?” You would complain about one moment. Then the next moment you went on about how chocolate was better than vanilla, about how winter sucks because you can’t use your lavish pool, why red is better than yellow, why Pepsi tastes better than coca cola, and so on.

“So what’s your real name mr. six?” you ask him, your legs crossed over one another as you sat by him. His fingers were expertly working at the computer ahead of him, and he only gives you a split second of a look. “Nothing?” You inch closer, your red heels dangling near his legs.

“Why are all you guards so boring? Hm? It’s been like 3 days and you can’t say more than 2 words.” Throwing your head back, you groan out loud. Finally, you thought of an idea, and you glance back at him, grinning.

“Well then you wouldn’t mind if I invited my friend over would you?” A giggle escapes. “No. Of course not.” Pulling out your phone, you scroll through your contacts and grin.

“You’re not supposed to have anyone over.” Finally, Mr. Special Sierra Six speaks. You wave your phone and laugh.

“It’s just one friend pretty boy, come on now, don’t be shy. She won’t give you as much as a bite… though.. she might try to get into your pants.” Snickering to yourself, he gives you that same blank stare. You click on your friend Cacie, and she answers the phone just as fast. Smiling wide, you’re already pulling it to your ear and telling her to come over.

“There’s a little special surprise for you. This one is good this time.”

“Can’t wait~” she says with that little mischievous snicker at the end of her words. She hangs up and you know she’s already on her way.

“Hey pretty boy, do you like wine? Wait don’t answer that. You strike me as a.. on the rocks type of guy. Let me guess.. bourbon? Scotch?” Six doesn’t respond, and you tap at your chin. “Whiskey!” Six gives you a glimpse, and you know you got it.

“Let me guess, “I can’t drink on the job,” you mimic him, “just one little glass wouldn’t hurt.” Already pouring the whiskey into the glass, you shoot him a side look. He’s still working at his computer, and at this point a guard might be sighing, rolling their eyes, or shaking their head. But he’s quite diligent. It was impressive.

You set the glass in front of him, and he doesn’t even eye you. “Just a sip for me, pretty please?” You give him the sweetest orbs you could muster, but it wasn’t very good knowing you. Eventually he gives you a look, and this time it stays. You couldn’t know what he was thinking with his expression at all. “Come on, please? I won’t bother you at all after this.” You tilt your head, and your eyes glimmer a certain sadism that screams out your lies.

“I’m good.” Sierra six speaks, turning back to his screen, and you create a fake pout.

“That’s no fun.” You take the glass you poured him and take a sip. Your gaze lingers on him. He knows you’re staring, you know he knows you’re staring, but you still do it. The nails of yours tap onto the glass one finger at a time, and you rest your free hand at your cheek. Still stuck in your peering, you don’t realize the doorbell rings.

“You should probably get that.” Six states, and you smile sarcastically. You should’ve made him get up and do it himself for that smugness.

A swift smirk dawns on you when Cacies pretty face is revealed. Her red lips are stunning, and her blonde coils are wrapped up. She wears her velvet red slim-fit dress, and you know she always wore this one to seduce the prettiest of guards. “Cacie dear, meet Sierra Six.” Cacie walks up to him right away, a burning intrigue in her light blue orbs.

“You are quite the pretty one, aren’t you? Older, though. You could probably be my dad… but lucky for you, I like that.” She sways her hips to the side and giggles. There is a little flicker of annoyance inside of you that you push down. Six glances up and says nothing, he doesn’t even give a reaction, no visible sigh, no rude comment, not even a linger over her body to show he secretly enjoyed it. Cacie was more than intrigued by that though, and you knew she was 100% willing to break him by the night’s end.

Cacie turns her back to six, and she unclips her hair and rolls her head slowly, pulling her fingers to her scalp to massage out the little bumps while her hair rolls evenly at the end of her back. Cacie pulls out her phone and loud music begins to blare out. Six doesn’t flinch, but he exhales a barely noticeable sigh that finally showed irritation. It was subtle, but you knew. You take a sip of the whiskey and giggle. Cacie breaks out into a little dance, and Sierra Six closes his laptop and gets up.

It was getting late so he carries his little flashlight and shines at the glass windows to make sure no intruder was around the corners. You roll a lighter in your hands and flick at it, igniting a small fire that you raise to your cigarette. Taking a deep inhale, you blow a trail of smoke in front of you and stand.

“Dance with me (Y/n), you know you love this song!” Cacie shouts, moving her hand into the curves of her ass. Your gaze lingers over to your bodyguard and you flick your cigarette to the floor. You take another swig of whiskey, and Cacie turns to you with a bottle of champagne in her hands. A big grin stretches her lips and yours do the same. You break out into laughter and she mimics, pouring a generous amount into your glass. She was more of a wine girl, so she’d always have her little special bottle that she’d love to get from some handsome cashier to share a long sip with you. You place your glass down and begin to move your body with the music.

“You’re free to join too,” Cacie throws a wink at six, and he gives a glimpse before getting back to work.

Throughout the night Cacie sends every little flirt, any little comment, even a flash of her tits to six, and alas no response. You on the other hand couldn’t care less and once Cacie leans down all drunken to six and tries to touch him, he finally speaks. “Don’t touch.” You take this moment to finally pause the music. Falling to the couch with a sigh, you unbuckle your painful high heels and chuck them off to the side. Your stomach felt like it was violently churning.

“Why? Afraid I’ll mess up your work? Get you fired?” Cacie chuckles, turning to you.

“I don’t understand this guy. He’s more boring than watching paint dry.” She grumbles. Huffing, you lean back to the couch and clutch your stomach. There’s a swirling that rushes to your throat, and you bite back the nausea.

“I really don’t care Cacie, just stop bothering him,” you mumble off, unsure if you were even inteligible at this point. You pull your hair out of its restrictive tie and let the locks fall into your face. The headache that was beginning to brew pounds into your ears. Lines of haziness muddle together fast.

“What is wrong with you?” Cacie gives you a look of disgust as if it was just blasphemous what you uttered. You mumble into the leather, dragging your tired face into it. Your head lulls to the side, everything was too heavy.

“Are you okay?” Six asks from his position, his head turned over his shoulder, brows furrowed.

“She’s just drunk,” Cacie rolls her eyes, gesturing towards you. You lean your head onto the curve of the armrest, and the way the light blares down into your sight has you rolling your eyes into the back of your head. Breathing raggedly, you follow Six’s movements toward you, a sickness hits your chest again and you close your eyes, sucking in a pained breath. Six scans the half bottle of champagne, and then you. Suddenly a hand presses to your forehead and you attempt to flutter your lids open. Beads of sweat drip down your skin, and your hair becomes so wet it clings to your cheeks.

With a sudden sternness six asks, “What was in the champagne?”

Cacie throws up her hands and scoffs. ”How the fuck am I supposed to know? Champagne? I bought it at the store.”

Six rotates the bottle, attempting to find any language or label on the glass. “From who?” Cacie sighs and rolls her eyes dramatically. “I don’t know. The fucking cashier, who else?”

“Did you say anything to them? Like how you were going to be alone?” Six asks, staring up at Cacie who quiets, a certain guilty look on her face. He raises his brows and she throws up her hands again.

“Well… I didn’t think it was gonna be a big deal. I just told him that her dad was finally going out of town for more than just a few days, and he gave me that from behind the counter.” She holds a slightly worried expression as six gives her a blank look. You groan out loud as the pain in your stomach swirls. The bile was reaching your throat, the acid, the nausea, you couldn’t hold it back anymore. You violently hurl over the leather couch until your stomach expels every ounce of liquid it can. Before you knew it you were carried away and forced to sit in a car seat before you passed out cold.

When you woke up you are met with a hospital ceiling, and upon turning, you find six at the corner, standing. Pulling your arms to your sight you see an IV in your wrist, alongside other needles. Anxiety spikes, and you gasp, rushing to get out of the bed.

Six rushes to you, gesturing with his hands to calm down, “Hey hey, lay back down, relax." You hesitantly ease back in.

“What happened?” You ask.

“Your friend gave you a poisoned bottle of champagne.” He states blankly. Rolling your eyes at the paranoia, you cross your arms.

“I’m sure I was just drunk.” Sighing, you look out at the window nearby.

“Do you normally puke out blood when you’re drunk?” He says, tilting his head, and you turn to him.

“Only when I’m having a good time,” you can’t help but joke and smile to yourself, eyes now glued to the outside.

Six was quiet, and you shift your focus on him. He has a straight face like usual. You had a deep feeling that maybe if you weren’t purposely attempting to annoy him for the past few days, he might’ve liked you as a person.

“Sorry.” You mutter.

He raises a brow, and you go on a nervous rant. “I just never get to be alone, so I get angry. So far every guard has quit, and that was always my intention. But..” The words were at the tip of your tongue, but you just couldn’t bear to say thank you, that he saved your life of course, a feat no guard has ever done, and probably never would’ve.

“I understand if you will.” It is quiet for a moment, and you sigh, keeping your gaze just stuck to the window. You swallow sharply, and it feels like razor blades scratching down your throat.

“I won’t. It’s my job.” Sierra six states like some automated robot.

Pushing your head into the pillow, you scoff. “Even when you got a girl who’s trying to make your life a living hell?”

“I’ve been with worse company.” For just a moment, you can see a shimmer in his eyes, and there’s just the smallest prettiest little curl at the edge of his lips. Grinning widely, you make out a laugh. Though, it’s not for long before you cough out a gross chunk of phlegm, or even blood maybe.

“You okay?” He asks, moving to you as you nod weakly.

“Yeah…” You trail off tiredly. “Can we go home now?” He finally chuckles, and you turn to him, embarrassed, a slight blush burning in your cheeks.

“Not yet.” There’s a frown from you, and you sink into the bed, your eyes closing. Six’s gaze lingers over you for a moment before he gets back into his past position, his hands folded neatly over each other.

It’s been close to a month, and the only company you ever had was six, and you hated to say.. you were starting to fall in love with him. Maybe it’s because you were desperate for any social contact. Or maybe because he's the only one who actually broke your facade and you feel comfortable to be your self around him... Or maybe it was just.. something about him.. the way he would smile just slightly, his soft chuckles whenever you finally did make him laugh, his ability to remain so calm.. it was so peaceful and reassuring in your boring days.

“I mean seriously though, why isn’t there an alternative to ketchup? It’s not like I’m just gonna put mustard on my fries, so you can’t say that’s one. It’s either ketchup or fries alone. You know?” You complain while shoving a fry into your mouth, huffing. Six removes the attention from his computer, his brow raised.

“Are you done?”

You nod absentmindedly. “You’re right, mustard sucks too.”

He lets out an impatient exhale, but there is just the slightest little twitch that nudges his lips into a smile. You find yourself grinning whenever you manage such a feat. Maybe he was annoyed at you, sure, but you knew he couldn’t deny that the mindless banter was enjoyable, and even he couldn't help but join in it every now and then.

Six looks up at you with a stern but playful expression, “I like mustard.”

“Hm. You do seem like a mustard guy.” You raise your spoon to him accusingly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He stops typing completely now, gaze locked onto you.

You circle your spoon and gesture to all of him. “It just screams.. you, you know?”

Six hums. “Is it the hair?”

“Yes! It is the hair!” You point to him and six nods, resuming his typing. He then shakes his head, and chuckles after a moment of silence. Smiling, you continue eating and snicker to yourself, well that is until a wonderful idea hits you.

“You should teach me how to fight!” You shout and he gives you a blank look from his computer.

“Why?” He asks.

“Well, what if someone breaks in and you need help?” He smiles only slightly, and your stare remains fixated on him. His beard compliments the frame of his sandy hair, and the blue of his eyes that glance your way. You loved picking those features out every now and then.

He averts to his screen, “I won’t need help. Trust me.”

“But what if you do.” You retort.

“I won’t.” He shakes his head.

“But what if-“

Six sighs, “Alright, I’ll teach you. Happy?” Hand resting against your cheek, you giggle. Six glimpses when you walk off. Then his gaze remains for a second too long.

Surely when he wasn’t looking around the same spots, exits, and corners every moment, he could relax in a way that still made him feel like he was working. That’s what you hoped at least when you dragged him outside beside the pool and forced him to teach you his martial arts, or whatever.

“I’m not going to hit you,” he reminds you right off the bat.

You playfully gasp, pressing your knuckles to your hips. “What if someone bursts into my room and attempts to knock me out, hm?”

“That won’t happen.” You open your mouth to retort and he puts his hand up.

“Don’t.”

You whisper the words “but what if it does?”

You would’ve believed him and even called yourself paranoid, but considering you just had an attempt of murder on you, unfortunately, the idea wasn’t out the window anymore.

“Hit me.” Six gestures, and you step back instinctively, a bundle of worry in your chest.

“Anywhere..?” You press your lips nervously into another.

“Anywhere.”

You dive your balled-up fists at him, and he swiftly moves to the side. It was some impressive reflex, and you did it again only to watch him repeat. You take a step back and smile, breathing through your words. “So, I guess my father doesn’t hire useless people.”

The more you try, the more useless it is, but you’re determined until finally he grabs your wrist and holds it. “You’re too predictable, you can do better. Come on.” A huff escapes, and you swing directly at his eye, but he dodges just in time.

“Better.” Six pauses, and moves to you, grabbing your fist. “Like this.” He moves your hand in the direction, imitating the movement, and once he steps back, you copy. “Good,” he compliments, and you step back, smiling.

Six makes a gesture with his hand, directing it to him as if saying to keep it coming. Taking a deep breath, you move to punch him, and he dodges. You do the same movement several times and he all but does the same, except each time you notice you were getting just a little closer to his window.

Eventually, you pant and hold your hands to your knees. “This is a lot more tiring than it looks.”

Six looks around at the daylight slowly diminishing. “You should eat, it’s dinnertime.”

“You cooking?” You ask, taking a deep breath.

“Not unless you like cereal.” He jokes with that blank tone as he walks away, but you give a small chuckle before following him.

There was a question you were itching to ask as you sat down, and you gave him several glances to determine his mood. Then again there was never anything that showed what he might be thinking, so you purse your lips and look down at your food again. “What?” Six speaks up, and you turn to him, quietly staring.

“Nothing,” you mutter, eating a forceful spoonful of your rice.

Sierra Six hums, his gaze lingering over you, and you stand, getting up to walk to your freezer. “There’s no more ice cream,” you pout.

“Good. I won’t be able to hear about how chocolate is better than vanilla for a while now.” You turn around to Six who has a little playful glint in his eye, and you fake pout, moving to sit back down.

“You didn't enjoy my talks?”

“I would’ve if you chose vanilla.” He jokes, and when you laugh he can’t help the small smile that tugs his lips.

You rest your hand on your cheek and find yourself gawking at him. Six eventually speaks through the strange tension. “You look like you have something you’re wanting to ask, so what is it?”

Biting your lip, you look away for a moment and eat another spoonful of bland rice. Life without your fancy chefs was definitely a depressing one.

“Nothing I haven’t already asked you.” You say in a small mumble, and six hums, stopping his movements at the laptop.

“You’ve asked me a lot in these past few weeks. Like what icecream flavor is my favorite, if I like ketchup better than mustard, if whiskey is better than bourbon, if-“ Cutting him off, you sigh.

“What’s your name?” Six gives the same blank neutral expression, but as if he’s thinking. “Unless.. you don’t have one.. but you’ve got to right? You weren’t born an agent.. were you?” You ramble on, and six eventually lets out a small exhale, tilting his head.

“Court.” He states and you quiet, keeping your eyes on his. Suddenly you smile, then it turns into a grin, and you laugh. He looks confused this time, “what?”

“Nothing… I’m just.. happy you told me.” A giggle escapes you, and there’s a swirl of butterflies in your stomach. Court raises a brow and gets back to work, his side gaze lingering on you as you move to put your dishes into the washer.

“Goodnight Court,” you sing with a little giggle and wave.

“Good night (Y/n).” He says, his focus back on his screen. Yet as you walk away the smile he held within him escapes fully.

Throughout the night you found yourself tossing and turning, your head filled with thoughts of six- or Court. The house felt safer with him, you admitted, and on many nights when you were scared, he soothed you to sleep with his presence that you bothered to have near you.

“Six?” You call out, making your way out of the bed with your little nightgown on. No answer and your heart leaps up into your throat. He always answered the first time. What if someone actually did intrude and he wasn’t there, or worse, he lost? God you were starting to sound like your dad, no way that’d happen… But what if it did?

“Six..?” You call out quieter, tiptoeing around the door frames like a scared little child. There were no lights on, and the windows displayed only the inky blackness outside. It must’ve been, what, 2 am? Now you were beginning to get very worried, and your heart began to beat so fast it was drowning out the quietness of your large house.

“Six..?” you call out yet again, and no response.

When you turn a corner, there’s the body of an unfamiliar man on the floor which makes you jump back. Your toe pokes at him, and he doesn’t move. Your anxiety is now fully spiked, and you rush around the hall to call out for six. You find yet another black outfitted body, blood leaking from their chest onto the floor. Although, you didn’t notice that part until you tripped and fell on it. Groaning out in pain, you clutch your head, and call out one last "S-Six!".

Suddenly you hear glass breaking and a silenced gunshot which makes you jump. There's a heavy thud at your feet, it’s the body of another man, and when you look up, it’s Court who stands above you, alive and on his two feet.

He lets out a breath, and you ogle up at him, unsure of what to even say. Court gestures his hand to you and you take it. He instantly pulls you to your feet and you tiptoe silently around the body in front of you. You open your mouth to speak, but his focus zones behind you.

Something is moving in the corner of your sight and you shriek in reflex, instantly rotating to punch the assailant. "Ow!" They hiss in pain and recoil, holding their nose. You stare, wide-eyed, and when the man removes his hand from his face, his eyes narrow onto you. Your heart leaps into your throat, and you contemplate running for a moment but you are more than determined, so you hold up your fist and muster up the same expression.

Suddenly an object flies over your shoulder, it nearly grazes your cheek before it lands deep into the chest of the man who is knocked back. Turning, you see Court who has a serious expression on his face, possibly the most you've ever seen.

You don't have much time to breathe out a word as another man comes behind him. Court rotates just in time and lands a loud sucker punch to the man’s jaw. The attacker stumbles back and gasps, attempting to grab at his pistol that Court more than easily undoes and the magazine falls to the floor. Court lands another hard hit, and you can visibly see the blood that leaks from the attacker’s nose as he repeats, and repeats.. and repeats to the point where you might as well feel guilty for the poor guy.

Cringing, you turn away, and you assume Court is finally finished when he lets out a breath and walks towards you. You study his movements as he nears the man beneath your feet and yanks the blade out from his chest. He takes a rag nearby and begins wiping the blood from it. You notice there is also blood running down his arm and without thinking your hands quickly roam to find the wound.

“Are you okay?” There was pure concern in your voice, and he scans you as if deep in thought.

He answers after a few seconds, shrugging, “I’m fine, just a little graze.” You frown and he adds, “You should be sleeping,” breaking you from the focus on his arm.

You huff. “When did they come in?”

“Now.” Court continues wiping the blade, not even looking at you.

“I told you I wouldn’t need any help.” Court continues in his monotone voice and you’re breathless in pure astonishment. You wanted to gasp out a “You’re unbelievable," but in reality, you say what you know annoys him.

“But you might've.” He cracks just the edge of a smile at you.

Your knuckles are a bruised red and you can't help but smile as you add, “Did you see the punch I landed? I did more than help, are you kidding?" Court chuckles and god even at a moment like this your heart flutters.

"Really? That's weird, I feel like I remember teaching you that punch. When was it..?" He looks to the ceiling as if just struggling to remember, “Just earlier today?" You were stuck in your smile, and your head tilts like a lovesick puppy, eyes glued to his. He gives you a sweet smile, then examines your dress which now has a puddle of red in it from when you tripped.

“You should go change.” He comments as if trying to shift the moment, and you hum, looking down at the bodies on the floor. It’s not like this is the first time you’ve seen this, considering the line of work your father was in, but the shake of six possibly getting hurt, or that they were coming for you upset you more than anything.

“I couldn’t go to sleep.” You now change the subject, looking up at him. He doesn’t respond, so you touch his hand and gently grab the knife that he was working at and place it on the counter. “Do you ever sleep?”

“Rarely. I can’t really afford to, considering,” he gestures to the bodies, “someone might break in.”

“What if I stand watch, and you sleep?” You offer, and he laughs for a bit. When he notices you’re serious, he gives you a look as if you just said something ridiculous. He scoffs and you pout.

He shakes his head, “That’s not your job.”

“No, it’s not. But my job as a host should be to make you feel comfortable and well-rested in my home.” You tilt your head, giving the best puppy eyes you could muster.

“Interesting character development.” He jokes and you pout.

“Come on, please? Starting tomorrow, you can take the best nap of your life.” You hold his hands that were once cleaning the knife and squeeze gently. Blue meets (e/c), and for a quiet long moment, it remains that way. Six doesn’t say anything, he just stares, and you do the same. Eventually, he decides to speak.

“I should probably clean this up.” You look around and take a step back forgetting to remember you’re an inch away from a pile of blood.

“Oh.. right.. yeah.” You trail off, giving him one last look as he does to you, before you nod, and walk off.

“Good night (Y/n),” he says and you turn back and smile.

“Good night Court.”

The closer you got to the time of your dad coming back from his trip, the more a big twinge of disappointment would hit you. It was almost 2 weeks left now, and you felt a sadness thinking of it. It would mean no more Court, and he would go on his way to other missions, or worse, even become a bodyguard to some other girl who’s conveniently all alone in a big house.

“Are you okay?” Asked Court who was, as usual, typing on his computer while you ate.

“Yeah.” Responding, you stab sadly at your eggs and let out a sigh. He wouldn’t like you anyway, not with how bad you treated him the first few days. There was no way.

Maybe it was a good thing he was leaving soon, so you could just be on your way and stop being so lovesick. Sooner or later another guard will come and you’ll go back to making their life a nightmare.

Court stares at you from the sides of his eyes, and hums. “I’ve been with you long enough now to know what’s wrong, so tell me.” He pushes his computer out of the way and directs his focus onto you. “What’s on your mind?”

Your lips purse, and for a moment you think of lying or not telling him anything, but you finally decide, that if he wasn’t going to be here after these 2 weeks anyway, then what was the point of keeping it to yourself?

“I’m just.. disappointed you’ll leave soon.” Court tilts his head, probably not even sure how to respond to that.

“You’re the only guard I’ve liked. So far I’ve made all of them quit, or even want to kill me themselves. My dad probably expects that you’re already gone or wanting to blow your own brains out by now. But… you’re here.” Awkwardly you finish your statement, refusing to stare at him in the eyes.. until finally you do. He gives you this questionable expression, and truthfully all of his emotions have been at least a tiny bit readable, but right now, you’re truly unsure of what he’s thinking. All you seem to notice is a glimmer in his eyes, maybe something sad, happy, mad, you really couldn’t tell.

“Yes.. I am.” He trails off like he wants to say more.

“Why?”

Court shakes his head for a moment and glances down, then he shrugs. “It’s my job.” Exhaling, you push yourself back into your seat.

Thinking of what to say and biting back a disappointment, you muster out a painstaking gratitude. “Well… I thank you for doing your job. In 2 weeks, you won’t see me again, and I’ll be back to making someone else’s job here hell. So.. you’re almost free.” You joke, but in a way that hurts you. A small fake smile is all the reaction you want to give, but the humor that makes its way to your words is almost nonexistent.

There’s a harsh jab that hits your heart that you’re attempting to push down. You knew he wouldn’t like you, it’s outlandish, but still, the tears that force their way to your eyes made it hard to show no emotion. Court sees it, and his attempted stoic gaze remains on you, but you can see he’s feeling emotions he’s unsure of, or like he’s thinking hard. His mouth opens to speak after a few seconds but you don’t want to hear it, not the words that you’ve been dreading, not the confirmation that’ll break your heart.

“I’m going to shower.”

He nods, and you purse your lips, turning away from him. Once you are sure he couldn’t see you, a few tears fall to your cheeks.

You put your hair up in a clip and decide to give yourself a nice bath instead. Undressing yourself, you lock the door to the bathroom and turn on the faucet, adding in a scent of your favorite soap. The bubbles rise to the top, and you watch, spacing out as you wait for the water to fill the spacious tub. Once it’s done you dip your legs in one by one and slowly sink yourself in, enjoying how the hot water settles your nerves. Once Court is gone, you’ll go back to normal, surely. Your eyes close and you let out a relaxed exhale.

You must’ve stayed there for longer than you thought, because there was a knocking at the door, and you mumble unintelligibly to yourself, rubbing your eyes awake. Muttering tiredly, you ask, “Yeah..?”

“It’s been a few hours. Are you good in there?” Court calls out, a slight worry in his tone.

Humming lazily, you draw yourself out of the bath and swing a robe on, your hair partially wet in its bun. “Sorry, I.. must’ve passed out.” You nearly whisper, opening the door to see Court’s face. He nods, and you both share a longing gaze.

“Right um… I’m going to get changed.” You cut off the awkward moment, walking off before he could see the light blush that dusts your cheeks. The way your heart beats, betrays the nonchalant thoughts of him leaving and reminds you painfully of the attachment you have. Once again, the idea of him vanishing right when your father arrives causes a pure sinking pain in your heart.

You throw on whatever’s comfortable and let out a sigh. Grabbing your hairbrush you tiredly begin brushing your hair while a sad pout glues to down turn your lips.

A knock on your door alerts you. Courts at the doorframe, his hands folded over one another, his blue orbs holding a certain sweetness when he views your form.

Nervously finding yourself caught in his gaze again, you pull away clearing your throat. “Hi…”

“Hi.” He responds, remaining still. It’s another awkward moment as you slowly brush your hair.

Court suddenly starts, “I’m not going to leave.” You stop, your attention shifting to him. He adverts his eyes for a moment and shuffles his legs, then focuses back.

He speaks with his usual neutral tone, but there’s a slight mix of something unreadable in there. Your attention is now stuck on him and every word he has to say.

“As tempting as it is to no longer have to hear about.. chocolate being better than vanilla,” you both share a small chuckle, “I don’t want to be “free” from you.” Court peers longingly, and you’re not sure what to say, you’re barely even blinking, your heart is leaping into your throat and you swallow roughly. You’re unsure of what exactly he means by this.

Court continues. “The only way I’ll leave is if you want me to leave,” he pauses, “Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” you whisper, eyes glued to his.

He walks towards you, slowly and steadily. “Then I won’t leave..” Court trails off, and you avert your attention.

“What about when it’s no longer your job?” He takes a seat beside you and uses his thumb and index to hold your chin gently, making you gaze back into him.

“It’ll always be my job.” He practically whispers.

You scoff, “To be my bodyguard?”

“No, to protect you,” He says surely, and your cheeks instantly turn a soft pink.

This time you mumble back, a small frown on your features. “Even when you have to leave?”

“Even when I have to. But that doesn’t mean I’ll be gone forever.”

Your eyes keep staring directly into his blue orbs, and you aren’t sure if it was his face that got closer, or yours, but eventually, your lips touch, and your lids close peacefully. He tasted sweet and was softer than you’d imagine. Upon separation, your gazes remain fixated on one another, and a genuine smile tugs at both your lips.

You speak without thinking, “I like you. You know that?” Court hums, breaking out into a laugh. His lips spread wide into a grin, and your heart skips just a little beat.

“Just like?” This time you chuckle.

You bite your lip and coyly tilt your head. “You gotta earn that second part.”

“And how do I do that?” Court asks, his voice soft. His fingers dance over your cheek, and you go weak at just the idea of his face so close to yours that you almost can’t even respond. He’s returned your feelings, and this makes you ecstatic. Your breath hitches when he leans in and plants a kiss on your lips.

“Just like that?” He asks, smug, and you nod, breathless, moving to touch his dark blonde beard that frames his features so well.

“Just like that,” you whisper, and he smiles, moving in to kiss you again.

#x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff x reader #the gray man #court gentry #court gentry x reader #reader insert #x female reader #x brat reader #the gray man x reader #sierra six #sierra six x reader

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babyprofessorsharkpalace · 1 year ago

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SOMEBODY WRITE RYAN GOSLING SMUT I CANT DO THIS ANY FUCKING MORE

#ryan gosling #ryan gosling smut #drive 2011 #blade runner #officer k #officer k x reader #holland march #ken #place beyond the pines #sierra six #the gray man #court gentry #young hercules #writers on tumblr #the fall guy #colt seavers #colt seavers smut #the fall guy smut

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mrsducky · 10 months ago

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THE GRAY MAN (2022) dir. Anthony Russo & Joe Russo

#I awed out loud #the gray man #sierra six #court gentry #ryan gosling #mine #hated coloring this. it looked gross no matter what settings I used 🙃

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anitalenia · 8 months ago

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓻𝓪𝔂 𝓶𝓪𝓷 ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑦 𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑡𝑦𝑝𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑦'𝑑 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 . . . 𝙥𝙡𝙨 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙠𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 ₊˚⊹♡

— 𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐘𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐍 ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙ 𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒚𝒅 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒐𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒔, always feeling the need to show off and showcase his winnings and scores. He was egotistic and sadistic, finding pleasure in the gory details and intricate, bloody intertwining of a persons biological makeup. He was such the opposite of six in every way possible.

Loud, dramatic, unreasonable.

He didn’t care about anything… He didn’t care about anything except you, you and him and the twisted lovesick bubble you were entrapped in together. He was selfish and cruel, mean and downright psychopathic yet with you he was… mush. Just a lovey-dovey pile of hearts pooled around your feet that worshipped your every, perfect step.

You saw his more sweet, romantic side reserved quite literally just for you and it truly made you feel special. You knew he wasn't a good man yet he was the best man for you, and that's all that mattered. He was sweet to you, cherished you, protected you, worshipped you, doted on you and hung off every sweet wish that escaped your glossy lips.

This was a fact known amongst anyone who spoke his name, that yours was just a faint whisper behind it. You were his other half, the Queen of his hellish kingdom, the better part of him symbolized in the uncharacteristic love he had for you. You were off limits, untouchable, his and only his and... you loved it that way.

Lloyd, as so in touch with his bold personality, loved to shower you in rather extravagant bouquets and gifts more lavish than necessary. He was dramatic and exemplary in his own right yet there was one simplistic tradition he couldn’t stray from… roses.

Lloyd loved roses; pink roses, white roses, blue roses. But he especially loved the deep red ones, the rich color and smell of the most perfect flower that personified love and loyalty like no other and you deserved no less. Roses were classy, beautiful, timeless such as you.

He would buy you those teddy bear shaped roses wrapped in delicate red bows, the overly large bouquets wrapped in delicate pink paper and ribbon you needed two hands to carry. He would even leave that morning with a sweet kiss on your lips and an impish smile under his mustache, knowing he had left you 100 bouquets to wake up to just downstairs, each with a note saying one reason why he loved you.

There was absolutely nothing simple about this man. Spoiling you was a love language of his, a way he portrayed his undying love for you in the expensive roses and exotic flowers he gifted you with. He was extravagant and ensured his devotion to you was just as such to anybody who dare pry.

He wanted you to have the best of the best, spoiled you with the grandness of things in every aspect of your life so why should flowers and bouquets be any different? You only got the prettiest of flowers, the finest of tissue paper and ribbon, from the best flower shop he imported them from.

Really, you knew his showboating was just a sly scheme of his to show his goons that you belonged to him and that he was yours. You didn’t mind his possessiveness though, your shared mansion littered with the finest of glass and marble vases to hold all the roses he’d give you. Anyone could walk in and see that you were well taken care of.

Every room in every hall carried a pot of flowers, the prettiest of flowers, the prettiest of roses, and yet to him you were always the most beautiful thing amongst them all. You were delicate and gossamery, so fine and enchanting just like the roses he’d give you. And, just as with every rose comes its thorns, or in other words, Lloyd Hansen will always be right behind you in case anyone dare try and pluck your pretty petals.

He’d always be there to save you, protect you, keep you and your beauty safe from anything that try and take you from him. He gifted you with all the prettiest of roses but for him you were his rose, his pretty flower, his pretty girl.

Now, Lloyd Hansen wouldn’t be Lloyd Hansen if he didn’t gift you with a backyard full of your very own rose bushes now would he? So, that’s exactly what he did. A whole garden dedicated to you, pristine and pampered with the best gardeners so he could give you roses anytime he wanted. Not a moment went by when you weren’t being smothered with red red roses in the safety of his castle; the belle to his beast in all the best ways.

Yes, Lloyd Hansen was evil incarnate, ripping at the seams a hellish, bloodthirsty beast stuck in human flesh but with you… not with you. You were his humanity, his princess in the twisted fairy tale he orchestrated for you. You loved him and all his murderous tendencies, and he was completely, irrevocably, irreversibly in love with you.

As every hundredth rose could tell anyone who dare ask.

— 𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐗 / 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓 ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒆𝒅, never one to spare a smile unless it was sarcastic and mean. But with you, his stony face and rigid exterior could never deter you. You had been with him for far too long now, too adept in his several complex mannerisms to be able to differentiate the good ones from the bad ones. You took him as he was, as he is, his blank faces and longly trauma and everything he came with.

Yes, he was usually so withdrawn and cold to anybody else, quick to leave and utter an irritated grievance but never with you. With you, he was warm and bright, soft smiles and loving eyes. With you, he was right where he was meant to be, by your side and protected by the impenetrable confines of your endless adoration.

Six gets you flowers randomly and sporadically, and it was such a sweet surprise to you each and every time he did. He rarely ever got you a bouquet unless it was something you explicitly wanted, something he’d really only purposely get on days that were really special — holidays or anniversaries.

He doesn’t do roses and old fashioned bouquets he felt every guy did for their lady, he figured you deserved more than tradition, something better. So, he likes to be unique and tries to make an effort in getting flowers specifically tailored to your tastes.

He was a gentleman even if he didn’t believe so, always overcompensating for something you weren’t sure what; maybe because he believed himself to be a difficult man to love, a difficult man to be with, something lesser than you so he’d try and make up for it.

He’s the type of man to bring you a flower he had seen one afternoon that he thought you might like, always taking note of the favorable flowers you’d mention days before and the excitement in your eyes as you talked about them. He remembered little things like that, things that you didn’t think he’d pay attention to.

He was a man to notice the small things as he’d walk into a front lawn or small garden, pluck the prettiest flower he could find and then tenderly place it in his pocket until he found his way back to you.

Most times it was just a simple daisy, a simple petunia, a simple stem, a simple little flower he had thought you would like. But for you it wasn’t about the lavish bouquets and dramatic proclamations of love anyway, it never was. Each simple flower was anything but simple to you, each one’s significance went beyond its pretty appearance and found in the gesture of what that flower represented.

Six’s love was subtle but fierce, strong and all encompassing. With each flower he gifted you it was just another sweet, meaningful anecdote in your budding love story. He’d leave it on the countertop before a mission, your bedside table, his pillow on the days he’d have to disappear for weeks on end. You were thankful for them, his subtle strokes of devotion bundled into a simple, little flower that meant the world to you. It was never about the money to you, and it was only ever the thought that mattered with Six.

You always loved his flowers, the small ones and the simple ones and the pretty ones. Whenever he would leave you on those stupid missions of his, the only thing you’d be left with is his sweet smell imbedded into the sheets and the flowers tucked under your bed in that precious pink shoebox. They’d be the only things left to remember him by until he came back, and in certain ways a guarantee that he will be.

Six will be gone when he thinks of you, missing you desperately, wishing to be back with you again. But even in the midst of gunfire and smoke he’ll still find your pretty flower sticking out of the cracked, bloodstained concrete and delicately put it somewhere safe, somewhere it can wait until it finds its way to you. It was his own way of ensuring himself that he will find his way back to you, back into the warmth, back where he was meant to be.

Each flower was a token of his love to you, each stem a stronger bond, each petal an unspoken promise. Whenever he was gone too long and you were left alone and sulking you would open up that shoebox of withered and fresh flowers. Whenever Six was sitting on an alley wall tending to his own bloody wounds halfway across the country he’d take that flower out of his pocket and twirl it in between his dirty fingertips.

No matter how far apart you two were the flowers were always there, stagnant and reassuring, as you both would look at that flower and find comfort in the words it symbolized.

He will always come back to you.

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙TAGGING , @ghostslillady hope you enjoy bestie, it’s just a small thing 💕💕 & @little-miss-chaoss

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ken-dom · 18 days ago

Text

Christmas Kisses

↳ with Lars, Driver or Six x gn!reader

⋆⁺₊❅ Total 2k words. Lars 880 words, Driver 670 words, Six 500 words.

⋆⁺₊❅ I’ve been wanting to write some kisses and thought, what better time is there than the holidays? So here’s a collection of festive smooches. Six was written as a little surprise for my beloved @heresthestorymorningglory – merry Sixmas, darling!

⋆⁺₊❅ Relevant content warnings listed under the header of each one shot, but generally these are NSFW.

⋆⁺₊❅. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ⋆⁺₊❅. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

⋆⁺₊❅ LARS LINDSTROM — First Kiss

⋆⁺₊❅ Contents: interrupted make out, mention of the uncomfortable side of the history of mistletoe traditions

☾ * ˛ ㅤ ˖ ⭑ ㅤ.ㅤ ❆ㅤㅤ *ㅤㅤ ˖ ㅤ❆ㅤ . ㅤ * _Π______ ˛ * ˖ ࣪ ⭑ * ˖ ࣪ . ❆ /______/~＼ ࣪ ☃︎ 𖢔 ❄︎ ˛╬╬╬╬╬˛ ° . ｜田田｜門｜ ╬╬╬╬╬

‘Look, Lars, Mistletoe!’ you beamed, stepping through Gus and Karin’s front door before him.

Lars’s heart always skipped at the way his name slipped from your tongue so easily, but this time his blood ran hot and cold at once, too. He had been hoping beyond hope for the right time to initiate a kiss. He couldn’t do that here, though, could he?

He wanted to. So much that his tongue licked along his bottom lip without him really meaning it to. His breath quickened, he could feel his pulse beginning to race-

No, not in Gus and Karin’s hallway. Not your first kiss together, right here on the threshold of his family home on the spur of the moment. He’d dreamed of your first kiss coming naturally one romantic night, after dinner and dancing at home, or under the fairytale moonlight at the lake, or even in his car after you’d been out somewhere together and had a good time.

Mistletoe was festive at least… this could be kind of romantic given the snow and the season, but all the scenarios he’d daydreamed about shared a common factor: you were in private when you kissed.

Lars offered a tightlipped smile and zero eye contact when you turned to see why he was still frozen to the spot on the porch.

‘Lars?’ you said quietly, coaxing him back to you, watching his eyes squeeze shut and his fists clench tight.

Before he could think up an excuse that summed up his inner turmoil and still let you know he wanted you more than anything right now, Karin unwittingly saved the day.

‘Lars, honey, is that you?’ she called down the stairs, ‘We’ll be down in just a minute, come on in!’

The only thing standing in his way now was the small complication that Lars wasn’t sure how long he could sustain a kiss without pain, but for you he would at least test it, and a whole minute seemed like a good start. A minute was plenty.

His hands unclenched, his eyes locked on yours, and he marched forward until he was an inch from you, where his gaze and his voice dropped.

‘You know what they used to say about standing under mistletoe?’ he said, so huskily you unconsciously squeezed your thighs together at the sound. ‘They used to say it’s bad luck to refuse a kiss. But I don’t believe that, not one bit. If you don’t want to kiss me, it’s okay. Nothing bad will happen.’

‘I’ve never wanted to kiss you more than I do right this very second,’ you breathed, so quickly the words almost slurred together.

Lars closed the gap, knowing any pain he felt from his skin against yours wouldn’t really harm him, that he could do this just the way he’d wanted to for so long. But there was no pain, only your lips soft and enticing against his, the trace of your scent filling every breath he took, the subtle heat building between you both warming his cheeks.

He felt you pull the hat from his head, your fingers threading into his messy hair, and as if that didn’t drive him wild enough, the way your body pressed closer, begging for more ignited something inside, like a fire in his belly.

While the kiss didn’t speed up, it certainly heated up; tenderness laced with desperation. Your tongue slipped along his bottom lip, and you guessed he must have liked it because the hands ghosting carefully at your shoulders dropped and gripped your waist hard instead.

He hadn’t meant to, and he was mortified at the volume, but it felt so good when your tongues met – you felt so good, he couldn’t stop a moan making its way into your mouth, either.

You hummed back and it reassured him enough that he confidently pressed a thigh between your legs. The kiss broke for barely a second, during which you both panted and puffed and sought out the other lips again-

Until everything came to a halt at the sound of a creak, a gasp and a scuffle.

Startled, Lars abruptly pulled himself completely away to see a flustered Karin and wide-eyed Gus paralyzed on the stairs.

You held your breath and bit your lips together, not sure whether to laugh this off or apologise profusely. Lars opted for the latter immediately, so you settled on hoping the ground would open up and swallow you whole instead.

‘No, no. We should be sorry,’ Karin gushed, while silent Gus’s brow raised. ‘We’ll just let you two finish up- I mean- well, we need to uh- we’ll be back in a moment.’

Karin ushered a reluctant Gus back upstairs, and Lars, beet red, huffed out an awkward laugh.

Letting out a breath of relief yourself, you bent to pick up Lars’s hat and stepped toward him with a smile, thumb delicately brushing over his burning cheek.

‘How about we hang some mistletoe at your place?’ you soothed as you smoothed his hair back into place and slipped the hat back into place on his head.

All the breath left Lars’s body, and he nodded, hurried and eager.

You leaned up to leave a soft peck on his cheek as you reached up and pulled a little off the sprig hanging above you. You knew Karin would only encourage it anyway.

⋆⁺₊❅. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ⋆⁺₊❅. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

⋆⁺₊❅ DRIVER — Gift for The Holidays

⋆⁺₊❅ Contents: kissing, blood (from an unknown source), if you’ve read my Driver before you’ll know he has a kissing kink so a big dose of that because frankly I can’t resist and I will write it again, hand job (over clothes)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

‘What are you doing up so late on Christmas Eve?’

Driver never startled, certainly not easily anyway, so he only raised an eyebrow and smiled as he stepped out of the elevator.

‘I could ask you the same,’ he said, coolly sliding the key into his apartment door while he considered you. You captivated him endlessly, but something was different tonight. ‘Waiting for me?’

‘You caught me!’ you grinned, ‘I actually have something for you… a gift, y’know, for the holidays.’

‘I don’t celebrate,’ he said, not intending it to come off as blunt as it might have to someone who didn’t know him. The glittering of fascination in his eyes told you otherwise, though.

‘It’s something you can do anytime of year,’ you teased.

Driver, interest piqued doubly, nodded his head to the side in a signal to follow him inside as he opened the door.

His apartment was bathed in complete darkness except the lights from the street vaguely glowing in through the window. He stood in front of it to face you, and it was then that you saw the splatter of blood, dark against the white of his jacket, and a pleasantly chilling shiver ran through your body as his shadow cast over you.

He tilted his head — You have something for me? — and you realised you’d almost bitten clean through your lip just watching him.

‘It’s not something I can give you, not really. It’s something I’d like to share with you.’

Driver stared at you, willing you to go on.

‘I don’t want to spoil it but I also need to know you want it first.’

His eyes widened, waiting patiently.

‘It’s… a kiss.’

God. You knew him. He swept forward, crushing his lips to yours with bruising precision that turned you dizzy, opening your mouth with his and pressing his tongue to yours.

Your head spun. This was an art form, elegant and needy in equal measure. Driver knew how to kiss, and he knew how he wanted to do it.

He snaked his arms around your middle and pulled you flush to him, somehow deepening the kiss and feeling you shudder against him.

You managed to prize your mouth off his long enough to take a much needed breath, and in the brief moment his lips weren’t sealed to yours, a almost inaudible whimper filled the inch between you.

With an influx of oxygen came enough clarity to realise you could feel his arousal pressed against your hip. You slid a hand down between your bodies and his breath caught in his throat. He nodded when your hand paused at the waistband of his blood soaked jeans, head dropping as he tried to hold back.

When you pushed your hand lower, you could feel that the fabric was wet, but it wasn’t blood you were touching. This was warm and sticky in a different way.

Your fingertip tracing the outline of his length drew another delicious whimper from between his kiss-swollen lips, which he bit closed when you palmed his twitching length over the denim. You rubbed slow and steady; gathering by the way his fingertips were digging into your waist he wouldn’t last much longer and you didn’t want to rush him to it.

You pushed him to the bed in the corner, resuming the kiss — and the touching — the moment you were on top of him.

He writhed in heated silence beneath you until the inside of his jeans was coated in his release, hot and thick and thrillingly uncomfortable against his skin, and he couldn’t even bear to kiss anymore until he’d caught his breath.

When his heart had slowed and his breathing evened, he slipped away to clean himself up, at least you presumed, but not without telling you, ‘Stay there. It’s my turn to give you a gift.’

⋆⁺₊❅. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ⋆⁺₊❅. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

⋆⁺₊❅ SIERRA SIX — A New Tradition

⋆⁺₊❅ Contents: making out, dry humping

☃︎☃︎☃︎☃︎☃︎☃︎☃︎☃︎☃︎☃︎☃︎☃︎☃︎☃︎☃︎

‘You know I’m okay with doing nothing and eating Skittles in front of the TV, right?’ Six called through while you unloaded your bags and bags of festive items.

‘Yep, and we’re doing that, but I want to start some traditions with you, too.’

Six wandered into the kitchen where you’d already unpacked a gingerbread house kit, various types of cheese, and cookie cutters in the shapes of trees and stars and holly leaves.

‘Gonna pull a snowman out of there next?’

You ignored him, mid-search for the most important item of all.

‘I’m not really one for baking…’ Six grumbled, inspecting the cutters as you dug around in another bag.

‘Aha! Close your eyes.’

Six did as you asked, although not without a little sigh of protest. A moment later he could feel you standing closer, your warm breath on his cheek as you whispered, ‘Open them.’

You could see him thinking, What? when his eyes locked back onto you, until he followed your gaze up, to where you were holding a little sprig of leaves dotted with pearly white berries and tied up with a pretty red ribbon, and his eyebrows raised.

‘Oh…’ he breathed, and then he was straight back to you, his lips brushing yours.

It was almost chaste. Almost. His kiss was so soft and lingering, so gentle, you dropped the mistletoe as you melted against him instead.

Six shifted forward, slipping an arm around your waist and pulling you to him in one swift motion. Easy, like he’d done the action a million times before, and who knows, perhaps he had by now.

He could feel your heart racing, your chest heaving for breath, and he chuckled against your mouth. All he’d ever needed to do was take it slow to have you turn to putty in his hands? Noted.

Also noted was the way it was working for him, too, heat pooling low in his gut as your lips parted.

You sighed when his tongue smoothed against yours, so delicately that your fingers clutched at his shirt tight enough you could have ripped it, and Six moaned. Actually moaned.

As swiftly as he’d pulled you to him, his hands found their way to the back of your thighs and he lifted you seamlessly onto the counter, sliding between your legs as you wrapped them around him and the cookie cutters clattered to the floor.

The kiss hadn’t broken all but for a brief moment, when you laughed together before his hips rolled into yours and your fingers might have actually torn the fabric of his shirt this time. The gasp you let out at the shudder it sent through you was cut short, his lips seeking yours again like a man possessed.

Six pulled away deliberately this time, resting his forehead on yours when he realised how dizzy all this had made him, but not ever ceasing the slow rocking of his hips.

Managing to retain just a hint of sarcasm betrayed by his own arousal, he cooed, ‘So, how’s this for a tradition?’

#lars lindstrom x reader #sierra six x reader #driver x reader #court gentry x reader #lars and the real girl #lars lindstrom #the gray man #sierra six #court gentry #drive 2011 #driver #ryan gosling fic #not s f w 💀#ken-dom writes

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months ago

Text

Killing Time 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, includes violence, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: a job offer could be an escape from your old life, but the new one, may not hold freedom.

Characters: Kraven the Hunter, August Walker, Lloyd Hansen, James Conrad, God the Bounty Hunter, Court Gentry

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

Your frustration mounts as you click the permissions again to allow the camera and microphone access. It’s so annoying! It just keeps running you in circles. Great. This is off to a good start. Late for the interview. That’s always the best first impression.

When at last your firewall stops blocking the call, you flinch at the sight of yourself in the corner. You’re further jarred by the man staring back at you. Your mouth opens and for a moment, you’re frozen. You were so focused on troubleshooting, you forgot about what was waiting on the other end.

“Oh, hi,” you squeak. “Sorry, I--” you look around, glancing through the clear walls of the library study room. It’s the first time you’ve been to this branch but you didn’t think the clutter of your apartment would make a good backdrop. “I was having issues with my camera.”

“Quite alright,” he responds with a grin and a lilted accent. He sounds as professional as he looks.

He wears a grey jacket over a muted teal shirt that lights up his eyes, even over the screen. His short hair is combed back neatly and there’s not a speck of stubble on his jaw. Under the structure of his attire you can tell he’s well-built.

You resist the urge to look down at yourself. A white blouse. Boring but professional. It gets the job done. Hopefully.

You force a smile.

“Thank you for meeting with me,” he begins through your nervous silence. “I do appreciate your time and I would hate to waste it. So, we can hop right in.” He looks unflinchingly into the camera, “oh, let us not go so far past courtesy. I am James, we’ve been corresponding, yes?”

“Uh, yeah, I remember. James.” You gulp.

He says your name with a keen inclination. “This is rather not the position which requires those cliche questions so I won’t trouble you with asking what animal best reflects your personality.”

You cough out a humouring chuckle and fold your hands on the desk.

“Forgive if I should seem to the point. You see, it’s a very practical position. I think it’s best we go over what is expected before we go into the finer details; expenses, relocation, dates--”

“Mm,” you squeak and put a finger up, “s-sorry, um, I thought we were interviewing but it sound like you’ve made a decision?”

“Well, yes, I’ve reviewed your CV and your submitted profile and your answers to the questionnaire were acceptable. I didn’t think there was much else to consider,” he intones. You shift and try to hide your surprise.

“No, of course, that makes sense,” you say. “Thanks, I guess I was confused.”

“Not to worry. I find that written communication can often lack clarity so I thought it best we have a face-to-face in this circumstance,” he looks down as if he has a book or paper before him. “So, did you have any questions before I proceed?”

“No, no, really, I'm sure you’ll answer them all.” Your cheeks bloom in a half-smile. You were so nervous about getting the job but you’ve already got it.

“Right then,” he sits back and once more stares down the camera. “It is a very old property but the upkeep has been consistent. There should not be any glaring necessities for maintenance, this more of a custodial position. So, you would be the one to keep the place clean, make sure it is aired out, tend to the lawns but we do employ a grounds keeping service that comes fortnightly to trim.”

You nod. It’s intriguing. You were sent photos of the property but you’re not quite sure of its purpose. Judging by the clustered pines in the background, you would guess it’s remote. A getaway that could be a goldmine for those wanting a vacation from the urban jungle.

“You would have a roster, you see, of those you could contact for service so you will not require any specialisations. You are the day-to-day and would be expected to bring in the appropriate support for higher-touch difficulties.”

“Right,” you try not to show your anxiety.

“Albeit I should warn you that the reception in that location is not the greatest so if you cannot call out, you would need to keep trying. It will eventually catch but uh, not to mind, as long it is attended is what matters, not when,” he says.

“Mhm, that makes sense. Um, can I ask what the property is? Is it like a summer home or...”

“Ah, family inheritance,” he answers primly. “I’ve not much use for it past the sentimental value and I thought of leasing it for traveling parties but I’ve heard horror stories. Right now, I’m merely sitting on it until I figure out exactly what to do with it.”

“Oh, right. Wow. Quite the inheritance.”

“Hm, yes, my uncle did rather adore me. I was the only one named in his will but he was a bit of a curmudgeon.” He laughs. “Now, I must ask the most important question--”

Before he can, the door swings open and you jump in your seat. Your heart sinks. You signed the room out for ninety minutes. You thought it would be more than enough. Surely it hasn’t been that long.

Shoot. It’s him. How did he find you? You deliberately went out of your way so that he couldn’t.

“Jake,” you stand and turn to him, trying to block the computer. “What are you doing?”

“There you are,” he touches his chest as if he should be the one so afraid. “You didn’t come home--”

You growl and cross your arms.

“Jake, go away,” you grit out. “Not right now. Please.”

“I had to make sure you’re okay,” he steps into the room and you push yourself back against the table. “Who else is going to look after you?”

“I will scream, alright,” you warn. “Now leave me alone. I’m tired of telling you.”

He sighs and his jaw squares. “I don’t get you. You act like I’m such a bad guy and I haven’t done anything to you. I never hurt you but you hurt me. You just spit in my face--”

“Pardon,” the voice rises from the speaker at your back. “If I may, she is occupied and you are interrupting. I have a mind to contact emergency service should you persist.” Your mouth falls open and you turn to look at your laptop. James leans forward to glare at the lens, “Not sure who you are, fellow, but the lady has been clear.”

“Who-- who is he?” Jake sputters.

“Please, just go,” you plead. “Or I will call the police.”

Little good they will do, you think, but that doesn’t need to be said aloud.

He frowns and his eyes glint dangerously. You stare back at him, tense, fingers curling and uncurling nervously. That man on the screen won’t stop him and you don’t know if anyone would hear you from the desk.

“Fine, guess I’ll see ya around,” he relents and backs out.

You don’t move until he snaps the door shut. You hurry over and twist the lock on the inside. You don’t know why you didn’t do that before.

“Are you alright?” James asks, drawing you back to the desk.

You sit and look at the keyboard, “I’m very sorry. I...”

“He doesn’t sound like a friend,” James says. You shake your head. “Well, then, it does sound like you’re in need of a fresh start. I do hope this can be that for you.”

You look up and bat away the glimmer on the brims of your eyes. You’re not just afraid, you’re embarrassed. His kindness is as comforting as it is unexpected.

“Thanks, um, anyway...” you exhale, “you were going to ask something.”

“Yes, uh, yes, I was,” he reconfigures and puts another smile on. “When can you depart? I would of course arrange travel to be sure you get here safe and sound.”

“Oh, when... whenever is best. Not to be too desperate but as soon as possible,” you say.

“Wonderful,” he praises, “absolutely wonderful. Is tomorrow too soon? Pardon my own desperation.”

“Tomorrow?” You utter and shake your head. “Tomorrow. Yeah, tomorrow.”

It's sudden and scary but it’s good. The sooner you go, the less time Jake has to figure out what you’re doing. The less chance he can follow. It’s an escape. Not a perfect one but it’s all you have.

🩸

You spend all night packing. You parse down what you have to the essentials and put the rest in bags. You don’t care about the furniture. You say as much in your email to your landlord, telling him to use your deposit for the disposal.

You whittle your life down to three bags. A large suit case, a knapsack, and a single purse. You have it ready to go by the door.

You feel uneasy about it. You stare at your luggage, the lights off, windows closed. Your phone buzzes and you put it to silent, ignoring the messages from your personal pest. You’ll be done with him too. You wonder if you should just toss your cell.

You don’t sleep. You can’t. You still can’t believe you’re getting out. You hope you haven’t given the game away.

There’s a tap on the window. You nearly roll onto the floor. You look over and hear it again, a harder impact. Are you serious? He’s throwing stones. He could break the damn glass.

You shake your head. You won’t fall for it. Not again. You remember when he came to your door and cried until you opened up. He even smeared ketchup on his face to make you think he was hurt. It’s hard to tell the difference through a peephole.

Almost there. Almost out. You just need to make it a few more hours.

As you ignore the incessant tapping and the light of your phone glowing ever few minutes, your thoughts turn bitter. You should message everyone who turned their back on you and tell them exactly what they’ve put you through. Somehow, you think they’d care as much as they did before.

Sleep eludes you but a foggy daze comes over you as the windows soften with the early morning. There’s no more pebbles bouncing off the pane. Just you and the buzz of the sleeping city.

Your alarm chimes and you get up as your head pulses. You’re used to the constant fatigue. It will ease up and you’ll just feel a bit heavy. When it’s normal, you don’t notice as much.

You get ready and have an instant coffee by the door. James messages just before nine. Your car will be there in ten. Oh, early. You don’t mind about that.

You won’t go out and wait. You’ll stay here, where it’s safe.

When your phone goes off again, you expect it to be Jake. It’s James. Whew. You’re so close, you can’t believe it.

You grab your knapsack and purse, and drag your suitcase out behind you. You lock the door and throw the key through the mail slot. You hurry down the hall and take the stairs over the elevator.

You don’t look back or anyway but forward. You look at your cell. 'Black Jaguar’ followed by a plate number. Jaguar? Holy moly.

The tinted window rolls down and reveals the same face from the Zoom call. You didn’t know he was coming himself. You assumed he was sending a cab or something. You slow as you come out the door. He smiles and pops open the door.

Before you can come forward, another figure appears, blocking your way.

“Hey, I've been calling all night,” Jake says. You stop short and nearly yelp. Of course!

“Jake, move.”

“Where are you going?” He looks at your bags desperately. “Wait, you can’t--”

“Pardon me, sir, is there some issue?” James strides up behind him.

Jake turns to face him and stiffens, “and who are you—wait, you’re that guy from the computer.”

“I’m none of your business, as is her life,” James insists. “Now, seems you’re used to picking on those smaller than you but let’s see how you do against me?”

James steps closer. He’s a few inches taller than Jake. You can’t move as they stare each other down. You wait, expecting chaos.

“I was only talking,” Jake shows his palms and shrugs. “It’s whatever. She’s a bitch anyways.”

He turns and snarls over his shoulder at you. You back up. As Jake turns, he’s knocked off kilter as James hurls his fist into his jaw. The shorter man staggers and falls to one knee, catching himself in the grass.

“Well, that was a lovely chat,” James smirks and beckons to you, “shall we?”

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