#cia my darling

[ozarkthedog]

ugh I wanna tend to his wounds and cuddle him against my bosom and tell him everything will be alright 🥹

[theconstantsidekick]

klaus got sober, finally got sober but was made a germaphobe. he was ridiculed for finally having his shit together but having weird coping mechanisms for it. then he was made to spiral again and then killed off. he got his life on track, was an exceptional uncle/second parent to his niece and then they made him sell his body for drugs and inevitably killed him off as a junkie.

luther, who was the leader, who was smart enough to be an astronaut could amount to nothing without his powers except from being a stripper. he had absolutely nothing and no one, even sloan was ripped away from him and then he, too was killed off. lonely and unaccomplished.

ben was brought back, finally alive, granted not the same ben but he wore the same face and he had a family who could annoy him into shape but he stayed a dick, became a apocalyptic monster and credited for the destruction of all the branching timelines, and died as a monster that he was so afraid of becoming.

alison got her happy life but couldn’t sustain it. her husband left her but at least she got to have claire and for that i can give credit but she remained codependent on klaus to be her passion project that made her feel better. she never learnt why that was not healthy and then died without her daughter.

diego had this beautiful life, a family that called him their own, three kids and wife who called him darling, and love and then he was made to fuck it all up because of some obsession with the CIA, in service of a romance between his wife and brother because the creator thought an old man needed some romance. he wasn’t even shown saying goodbye to his kids.

lila left behind her assassin ways, she stopped being batshit crazy and ultra suspicious to settle down with a man she genuinely and wholeheartedly loved and trusted, only to throw it all away because his younger (and yet much older) brother found her a timeline with strawberries. she was made to give up her kids, her family, her happy fucking life when all she ever wanted was to not be alone.

viktor got dealt the worst hand, always. he was abused vehemently by his father and ignored and relegated due to no fault of his own. he was made to feel ugly and broken and small but then he realised that his family loved him even if his father didn’t. he got a chance at being normal and he took it, only for it to be stripped away from him so that he could sacrifice his life for a world that was never kind to him. he was made to reconcile with his abusive father and then promptly erased out of existence.

five. my dearest boy, young man, old fool, five. he survived an apocalypse after another. fought tooth and nail to keep his family alive and well and dedicated his entire life to make sure of it. only for all his efforts to be made futile and his snark to be mellowed. he made it his life mission to keep the world safe and his family safe only for all that to be stripped away from his character and made into a lovesick fool who abandoned them during the final battle to mope about his brother’s wife not liking him back.

there were so many character assassinations this season, GoT writers would be proud of dear old steve.

[livelaughlou]

a story for another day

Heya! This is a belated Christmas present for my darling @louvemeanyway. Sorry it's late Cia, but I hope you like it! This is the 'meet-cute' fic that I posted snippets of, too, if anyone recognizes it.

bucktommy - words: 1.7k - rating: Teen - complete

He dresses quickly, rushes down the stairs, pulls his stuff together and figures he'll grab a muffin or something at the coffee shop. He's there within fifteen minutes, getting out of the car just as his phone goes off with another text. He's walking toward the coffee shop and has just gotten to the door as he reads a demand from Eddie for a cupcake when he walks right into a brick wall. Well. A brick wall that makes an 'oof' noise and then a 'damn it.'

Or: Buck meets Tommy in an entirely different way.

Read on Ao3

tag list:

@desert--moonchild, @sazzynatural, @multishippinghussy, @mmso-notlikethat, @esendoran

@sunnywithachanceofbi, @sleepywinchesters, @buck-up-buckley, @manifestingchaoticvibes, @corvid-cryptidd

@lbltpsmspenguin, @theotherbuckley, @cliophilyra, @actuallyitsellie, @thecarrott

@louvemeanyway, @misstommykinard, @the-omniscient-narrator, @tommymas, @a-mel0n

@hyperfocusthusly, @mayorjack, @weewookinard, @swagmaster9k, @dudedudeduda

@byunbuckjunmy, @sluttytommykinard, @bidisasterevankinard, @retromodgirl, @donevanrocker

@cuneiformsstuff, @alejaan91, @yourbagelsbagel, @perfectlysunny02, @judymarch15

@actuallyitsellie, @laundryandtaxesworld, @evansbuck-ley, @crashthatcopter, @chimneyz

@insecuregodcomplex, @aringofsalt

[thesilmarillionblog]

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭: 𝟐

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: You and Soldier Boy want to create a family and move on from everything, even the Vought, but you also know that he has to face Homelander one last time to keep his vow to Butcher. However, nothing turns out as you had hoped.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Heavy angst, hurt, memory loss, Soldier Boy gets hurt, reader gets hurt, established relationship, trust issues, reader is manipulated, everyone is a liar, suspense

Word Count: 4107

A/N: English is not my first language.

Butcher hidden what had transpired months prior from the other members of the team while he waited for you to fully heal in the same room, guaranteeing that Kimiko and Frenchie would never discuss your abortion ever again. Butcher had told them nothing about you other than that you had amnesia.

He did not want to listen to other people discuss something they did not completely understand. He knew there was no other way for you to live your life without putting yourself in danger, even though he wasn't particularly fond of making such a brutal decision about your body. In the end, it was him who first made you inject Temp-V into yourself. Thank goodness you didn't die at that time. Furthermore, considering your circumstances with Temp-V, it would be impossible for you to continue a pregnancy while carrying a supe fetus.

That was for the better.

After the operation, three months had gone by, and Butcher had told the physicians to get you as much sleep as possible to avoid showing any obvious scars and to avoid raising any suspicions. He also erased anything that was online about you, including your videos, images, and anything else that may have been obtained by cameras, all with CIA assistance. He was aware that the game he was playing was risky.

You were so exhausted that you wanted to close your eyes again and grimace at the sight of a white light shining straight into them. 

When you saw him playing with his phone on the chair next to your bed, you said, “Butcher?” 

“Hey,” he said as soon as he touched you gently and slipped his phone into his pockets. “All right, darling, let me talk to the doctor. Try not to get up or do anything.” 

You groaned in agony as Butcher exited the room, attempting to make sense of what was happening. There was a great void in your mind, even if you forced yourself to recall the things that had happened to you. All you could recall was that you, Butcher, and Hughie were in some filthy room trying to talk to Translucent. 

When the female doctor began to examine your eyes and everything else, you opened them again. “You appear to be in good health. How do you feel?” she inquired softly. 

You muttered, “I actually don't know. How long have I been sleeping?”

She smiled and added, “It's okay; you just need some more rest, and it's been three months.”

You mumbled, “What?” amazed at how much time you spend sleeping. Butcher nodded at you when you looked at him to see how he responded. “What happened to me?”

The doctor opened her mouth to speak, then gave Butcher an odd look as if she was having trouble coming up with the right phrase. 

“What's the last thing you remember, doll?” Butcher asked while closely inspecting you. 

You muttered, trying to force yourself to remember something, but all it did was give you a terrible headache. “I...Translucent is all that I remember from that time. I had been trying to talk to him with Hughie.”

Butcher took a deep breath and gave the doctor another look. 

You inquired, perplexed, “Did something very bad happen to me? Is Hughie okay?” 

“Of course, nothing horrible happened,” Butcher said with a smile. “You just gave yourself a really hard head hit on the table. Very hard one. You'll feel well very soon, right, doctor?”

“Yes,” she responded quickly. “You just need to rest a little bit more.”

You said, “Can I leave though? Would you let me, please? I believe I can walk, and I don't think I can feel my limbs here anymore if I continue to sleep. I'd better not spend any more time in this place.” 

“Of course. I was about to say that. You are allowed to go,” she said, maintaining her grin and turning to face Butcher after she had carefully placed some clothing from the wardrobe on your bed. 

Butcher said, “Okay, you change your clothes while I talk to her, right?”

Nodding to him, you watched them as they left the room.

Carefully closing the door, Butcher said, “You think her memory loss is temporary?” in a low voice to make sure he wasn't being heard.

“There is no certainty when it comes to medical issues. Especially, not when it’s about brain.”

“That's not my kind of conversation, doc. Just advise me on what not to do, and she will remain that way.”

“Make sure there is nothing—not a photo, document, or anything else—that would prompt her to recall someone or something you don't want her to. That's the best advice I can give you; otherwise, you can push her to constantly recall other fake memories, which will give her a headache and possibly worsen her trauma as she tries to recall. I'm not promising you anything, though; she might not even need them to remember someday. Even something small, unimportant can trigger her memories.”

Butcher sighed and replied, “Well, that's enough. Is there anything more I should know?”

“Butcher, you have to understand that you are powerless to stop what is about to come. If she ever finds out, she is going to hate you. I'm not even going to question which Supe got her pregnant. I don't want to know. This is a pretty dangerous game that you are playing in a very messed-up setting.”

“I paid you good, didn't I?” Angered by her words, Butcher spoke up. “I completed the tasks at hand, and moving forward, everything will be OK. All I'm asking is that you simply never discuss what happened here with anyone, as you are told.”

“I would never,” was her quick reply. “I hope to never have to deal with anything similar again, and I hope you will stay away from me for a very long time.”

Butcher winked meaningfully at her and said, “Okay, call me when you're needy or high, love.”

When Butcher knocked on your door and you told him to come in, he asked, “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah.” 

He informed you that there were new members of your team in the car when he noticed you were deep in thought. “In three months, a lot can happen, you know. We still had to work about Vought and the Seven.”

“Oh,” you replied, unsure of how to reply appropriately. “Are they reliable?” 

“They are, of course. However, there is one new thing that may surprise you. One of them is a member of the Seven.”

You exclaimed, “No way,” sounding both shocked and thrilled. “I thought our purpose was to kill them all.”

“Well, not every one of them is a total asshole who loves to be bitchy around. Starlight is an excellent and smart young lady.”

“Oh my god,” you said in a whisper. “It seems like I may have missed the whole episode. However, how did she learn about your team and decide to join so quickly?”

“A lot of things change every day. She's fucking Hughie. Love wins at the end of the day, doesn't it? She claimed that before joining the Seven, she was ignorant of Vought's true face.”

You just said, “I understand.”

“What happened to Translucent, by the way?”

“He's in the grave.”

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed, shocked, putting your palms to your lips while Butcher continued to stare at the road. “And how did you even manage to do it?”

“When you passed out, Hughie blew up his invisible cunt. That's it. Don't you think you have way too many questions? Nothing further significant occurred. That was all.”

“All I want is to stay up with the team. I've been asleep for so long that I cannot remember anything at all.”

You said, “I feel like I disappointed you and Hughie,” while he remained silent and kept staring at the road. “I'm sorry.”

Butcher touched your shoulder and said, “Hey, don't you talk like that silly again. I am myself a big failure and a mess in fact.”

He went on without letting you say anything. “You're doing well. I'm happy to see you back at The Boys, and be sure, there's still much to do. Please, don't

worry about anything.” He gave one of his sly smiles. “Everything's going to be alright.”

Everyone was staring at you when you hesitantly went inside the house. You felt awkward trying to decide what to say. Soon after, Butcher was the center of attention for everyone, which simultaneously made you feel foolish and embarrassed.

When at last you succeeded in saying “Hello,” you said, “Butcher told me about you. Since you're all new here, I suppose it would be best if we introduced ourselves right away.”

You gave Butcher an odd look after introducing yourself, and then you cautiously sat down on the couch because you were still feeling a little lightheaded. The worst was the headache. An uneasy tension filled the air.

Ignoring the accusing looks from Frenchie and Kimiko, Butcher began to sip whiskey and tried to forget about the incident, similar to you, but voluntarily. 

“Yeah, I mean, she's Kimiko, and I'm Frenchie.”

You were taken aback when Kimiko came down next to you and gave you a strong hug before you could respond, but you soon went back to give her a hug. 

Annie looked at Butcher and continued, “I suppose you're familiar with me already. I am Starlight. However, feel free to call me Annie.”

“Yeah, he told me you and Hughie are a thing, right?”

Annie nodded to you and smiled.

You felt a little better because everyone appeared friendly and welcoming. You were worried that during the months you were asleep, you had missed a lot. To feel like you have a place, it would be a good idea to make connections with new people. 

Butcher stated, “Well, I have to leave for the time being. Let's give everyone a little rest. Unfortunately, even your lazy ass cheeks deserve a vacation.” He then turned to face you and said, “And you can rest a bit more, doll.”

As if you haven't had enough sleep. You didn't reject him, though.

You said you wanted a little more sleep when Butcher left the house and got up. The way everyone looked at you was weird and strange somehow, but you didn't give it much thought. Soon, you would grow accustomed to one another. 

Though your footsteps led you as if they had their own memory, you were unable to recall which room you had been sleeping in when you took the stairs. 

You shut the door and turned on the lights. You pushed your memory to recall even a single, insignificant detail, but it was blank. But when you took in your surroundings, a feeling of sadness and regret overcame you, as though you were recalling this place. You were unable to comprehend the misery in your heart as you listened to the room's silence. 

Although it seemed like you had been in this room for months, you could sense the presence of another person. It was difficult to define. 

You touched each piece of furniture as you moved around the space in the hopes that something, no matter how small or pointless, would remain in your memory. You looked through the closet, but nothing was there. Everything seemed intentionally empty. 

With a heavy heart, you sit on the bed and run your fingertips over the soft sheet. The inside of your head was hurting like crazy the harder you tried to remember. You gave up and laid on the bed after making a few more attempts. As you inhaled, the comforting scent of the cushion beneath your head slightly eased your discomfort. 

You had the impression that you belonged here, and vice versa. 

In your heart, you sensed that something was missing. You simply couldn't tell if it had to do with something in the room, a sensation, or something else entirely. Whatever it was, your heart and feelings understood it, even though it was hazy and no longer in your recollection. You were yearning for something that was beyond your memory. 

You hugged the pillow under your head and wept uncontrollably as you curled into the bed even deeper with a heavy heart. Your heart squeezed in pain as you continued to cry, and you did not even know why. 

Someone patted your arm and said, “Hey, want to have dinner? You fell asleep here hours ago. You must be starving.”

“Frenchie?” you asked in a sleepy voice. 

“Yes, it's me. Are you hungry?” 

You rubbed your head and nodded to him. Your head ached from weeping so much. 

“Well, I suppose,” you muttered. “Frenchie, who is staying in this room, by the way?”

Just as he was ready to add anything, Frenchie abruptly stopped talking, as though he were trying to think it through. “Not in particular. I mean, everyone. What happened?”

You said, “I don't know,” as your gaze wandered the room. “Just a feeling.” 

“It's just an empty room,” Frenchie simply said, assisting you in standing up. “Nothing else.”

Annie called your name three times in a row; you were unaware that you had not even touched your meal. 

You apologized. “Sorry, I couldn't catch you.”

"Hey," she muttered in a worried tone. “You know, it's best not to overthink things. Everything will work out. We are with you. You only spent three months there. You didn't miss too much. Actually, thanks to you, we didn't have to put in as much effort because Butcher watched for you till you healed.” 

“I'm not sure,” you simply said, giving her a ghostly smile. “I sense that something is off. I'm not really sure what it means, but it seems like I lost something.”

Your face turned red with guilt as she remained silent. “I apologize; I didn't want to give you a negative first impression. I know I sound weird right now.” 

Kimiko, who was seated next to you, comforted you by resting her chin on your shoulder and smiling sympathetically. She was somewhat serious and genuine, which put you at ease, and she was communicating with you using sign language. In fact, you needed to speak with someone like her. 

“No way,” Frenchie grumbled, continuing to eat the pasta rapidly. “You don't leave a negative impression or anything; we work as a team. You are at least more civilized than MM and Butcher's nasty asses. That's good enough.” 

The way Frenchie talked badly of Butcher made you all laugh. 

He winked at you and pointed a finger at your face, saying, “I think there is a way to solve your situation, Y/N.”

“What is it?” you inquired immediately. 

“I honestly believe that after the past few months of exhausting work, we all deserve to relax and enjoy ourselves. It wouldn't harm the CIA's ass to take a little vacation. Ladies, what do you say?”

Kimiko grinned and gave him the thumbs up, and you agreed. Perhaps engaging in some pleasant activities might help relieve the oppressive sensation that has been troubling you since you got up. 

“And after that,” Frenchie continued. “I've got to work on this virus a little bit more.”

“What virus?” you said, startled. There was too much to catch on to. 

“A virus capable of causing the murder Homelander. It's a supe killer.” 

Annie and Kimiko looked at one another worriedly. 

You said, “Oh my god,” looking shocked. “Is that even possible?”

“If I can figure out how to generate the virus, then it should be possible. Homelander cannot be killed by a simple virus. It's difficult to construct anything so strong because that motherfucking is just too powerful to kill, but hope is the last thing that dies in this world.”

As you watched Hughie give Annie a sad face, you couldn't help but wonder, “What if Annie is infected with this virus as well? If in the wrong hands, it would be genocide.”

“We'll simply kill Homelander and the remaining members of his team. Not Kimiko or Annie, of course. We already have enough blood on our hands. This must finish quickly.”

“Let's avoid talking about such things today,” Annie said, appearing visibly uncomfortable. It made sense. 

Annie wanted you to dance at the club instead of spending the entire evening sitting down, but you told her you weren't feeling well enough to be active and all that. You were fine physically; you just didn't want to at that particular time. 

You smiled at Hughie and Annie as you watched them dance. There was no denying their obvious chemistry. It pleased you that Hughie could choose to move on. No matter how harsh and cruel life is, it always continues because every day brings with it a fresh start. 

Perhaps that was how they had each other's backs throughout the worst. You wanted to have something so strong and intimate as well. 

Kimiko touched you on the shoulder, and her expression changed to one of concern, as if she wanted to know how you were doing. 

You said, sipping the whiskey, “I'm okay.” You didn't want to drink since you thought it would worsen your situation. Still, a glass or two wouldn't harm you. “I just can't get over this headache. Perhaps I'm pushing myself too much.”

Kimiko communicated with you via her phone because you were completely unfamiliar with her unique sign language. However, you made a self-promise to learn it as soon as possible.

“Avoid pushing yourself. You have to maintain patience. You'll be fine soon enough, I'm sure.”

You also brushed Kimiko's shoulder and said, “I hope so. Thank you. I'm not sure why, but I just can't get over the sadness that I feel. It makes me want to cry. What if something terrible happened and no one was telling me? God, please don't think I'm some sort of paranoid person. Butcher isn't here, and I simply needed to talk.”

“What makes you feel sad?”

“When I went into the upstairs room today, I felt really bad about it. Do you know someone who stays there? Perhaps I was staying there, and my memory is not helping.”

Kimiko nibbled on her bottom lip and briefly looked around. then displayed her phone to you. 

“Yes, you were staying there sometimes.”

You were about to speak, but you changed your mind and decided not to share what Frenchie had told you. 

Kimiko again held up her phone and said, “I just want you to be okay,” as she noticed you lost in thought. “Perhaps it would be best not to push yourself to bring back memories. If those memories are strong enough, they will find a way to get back to you. No matter what”

“That felt better, Kimiko. I appreciate you listening to me. You're right. There's no need to worry if they are unimportant; in that case, it's preferable not to remember.”

Kimiko smiled a little and offered you a hug. She looked at you, and you gave her a nod as soon as she noticed that Frenchie was grinning at her. As if the team was made up entirely of romantics. 

Just as you were all about to head back home, Frenchie pulled over, and you all gathered around the large screen to see something. Based on the large Vought symbol that was displayed on the screen beforehand, you could presume that it must be about the Seven. 

“What's happening?” Annie questioned, perplexed. 

Everyone on the street had been glued to the large TVs. 

Frenchie muttered, “I guess there is some latest news. I wonder what Homelander did this time.”

As you left Frenchie's van and joined the other people on the street, you glanced at one of the screens. 

The Vice President claims that Homelander himself ordered the release of Soldier Boy, who was found not guilty hours ago. Homelander discovered that the CIA had attempted to use Soldier Boy to bring down the president and Vought. We've been informed that the release of Soldier Boy will bring Americans together once more during these days of change. The public will soon get further information. 

You stared at the massive image of Soldier Boy on television as the reporter filled you in on the latest events. 

“Oh, no, no,” Frenchie mumbled to himself. Annie gave him a scared expression. 

“What is going on” You uttered, “I thought Soldier Boy died a long time ago,” not fully grasping the gravity of the situation.

“I suppose we should give Butcher a call. Now,” Annie spoke harshly.

You gasped when Frenchie pushed you to go and get in the van before you could say anything, but you continued to stare at the image of Soldier Boy.

“Hey, what's happening?” As they exchanged glances, you repeated the question, speaking louder. “Why have you all turned pale?”

Annie opened her lips to say, “I-,” but she suddenly changed her mind. “Let's speak with Butcher first; he can guide us on what to do. Butcher just sent us a new address, Frenchie. Let's go there.”

“Alright.”

You followed up with more questions, but when you realized they wouldn't discuss them, you closed your mouth and lost yourself in your own thoughts until you reached the location Butcher had instructed you to go to. 

Butcher was smoking when you walked in, and he had his eyes fixated on the wall.

You patted his shoulder and said, “Butcher,” to get his attention. “What's going on?”

He said, simply, “We're staying here from now on.”

“And it's about Soldier Boy,” you asserted firmly. “How about him? I assumed he was long gone. What are all of your concerns? I guarantee I'm well now and I got enough sleep, even though I know you don't want to push me or anything. So, will you kindly simply give me the details? Did something occur when I wasn't present?”

Butcher inhaled deeply and got to his feet. “Well, I suppose we must begin someplace. A few months ago, Soldier Boy was released. We were the ones who did this. Eventually, he promised us to help kill Homelander.”

You responded, “So he wasn't dead,” and he nodded in agreement. “And?” 

“It came out that Soldier Boy had betrayed us, and Homelander is his son. With the assistance of the CIA, we were able to cover his face with a mask and send him back to sleep. With the help of his father, Soldier Boy, it appears that Homelander is eager to work with him from now on and will be undefeated.”

“Oh, my god,” you muttered. “We can't even kill Homelander; how are we even supposed to deal with both him and Soldier Boy? Why the fuck you even released Soldier Boy?” 

"I fucking don't know," Butcher exclaimed as he became angrier. "But we'll be cautious and stay here. Frenchie will work on the virus, and together we'll develop an efficient method of killing them both." 

You said, “Maybe we can try to talk to Soldier Boy. He is our nation's first superhero. He is undoubtedly beloved by the public, but perhaps he will reconsider if we can persuade him that Homelander committed atrocious crimes, like mass murder. Don't you think?”

“Stop being naive,” Butcher sharply remarked. “You are mistaken if you believe Soldier Boy is innocent and not like Homelander; they are a father and son. He killed a lot of people in New York on the day we let him go. He just knows how to kill, betray, and deceive. Soldier Boy must die.”

Next Chapter

⋆⋅☆⋆☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋆☆⋅⋆

A/N: Comments are very much appreciated. I’d like to know what you think about this one. ♡

Taglist: @smexydilflover @deebris @coolrobloxkid28 @endrfairy @libby99hb @raynamorono23 @cwutesygrl @ladysparkles78 @seokjinluvb0t    @deangirl96 @whendiditendalthoughenjoyment @mostlymarvelgirl @dilfsandmartinis @deans-spinster-witch @mayafatimakhan @riah1606 @ilovecooperhoward @unleashthelion @cnmcgee @ahoytothestorm @hells-dragon @bitchykittenconnoisseur @peachhiz

[rebornofstars]

SEPFEMBER 2024 PROMPTS LIST

HERE WE ARE! AT LONG LAST! THE MOMENT YOU'VE ALL BEEN (HOPEFULLY) WAITING FOR! GIRL MONTH!

I honestly can't believe this is actually happening. This event was a shower thought a few months ago.

Here's a recap of the event: to participate, make at least one fanwork of any variety during September that features a woman or women from the Zelda franchise as the main character/s. All Linksmeets are welcome in this challenge, as well as general LoZ fans!

Before I drop the prompts list for those who are looking for a little direction, I'd like to mention that I have made an AO3 COLLECTION FOR THIS EVENT. It's open and unmoderated so you can add your works to it freely. And if you post on tumblr, please tag #sepfember !! I'll be scrolling through the tag every day looking for things to reblog and gush about 👀

If you have any questions at all about this event, or you want to chat about it, my askbox is open! I will also respond to comments and reblogs of this post.

Now, onto the prompts. Disclaimer: you DON'T have to use all/any of these prompts, or only create things for certain characters on their featured day. This list is just a GUIDE for those who want it. If you have other plans, go with your heart!

At the end of the day, this is a celebration, and all that matters is that you have fun. I hope some of you will join me next month in giving our girls some time in the spotlight, but if you can't, that's okay! There's no pressure! This is just a passion project of mine, really, and I am overjoyed that people are interested 💛💛💛

(apologies in advance for the terrible quality of these pics and the equally terrible commentary. i thought it would be funny. also, i've never had to come up with a prompts list before and it shows.)

DAY 1: SKYWARD SWORD ZELDA + PURPOSE

(we start at the beginning of course 💛)

DAY 2: MARIN + WASH

(it was SO hard to find a screenshot of her that didn't have link in it. they're both cute but this ain't about him.)

DAY 3: MEDLI + GIFT

(i didn't know she played the harp until i saw this screenshot! i obviously have a lot to learn.)

DAY 4: TWILIGHT PRINCESS ZELDA + FREEZE

(how creepy does she look here?! so awesome)

DAY 5: HILDA + GHOST

(SUCH a good character for real. she has depth!!!! she has a thematic purpose!!!)

DAY 6: URBOSA + LOSE

(two words: LIGHTNING POWERS ⚡⚡⚡)

DAY 7: SPIRIT TRACKS ZELDA + MISTAKE

(babygirl you are 2 entire pixels.)

DAY 8: FI + ORDER

(oh she is everything to me)

DAY 9: MIDNA + SWORD

(she looks so soulful right now)

DAY 10: HYRULE WARRIORS ZELDA + SUMMON

(what a FIRE camera angle??? her armour is so impractically attached but SHE HAS A SWORD‼️)

DAY 11: GODDESSES OF HYRULE + EYES

(hylia, din, nayru, farore, the list goes on...)

DAY 12: ZORA PRINCESSES + TRUST

(mipha, ruto... poor suckers... it can't be fun, falling for link...)

DAY 13: OCARINA OF TIME ZELDA | SHEIK + FATE

(note: I personally hc this character as a trans man, but since this isn't explicitly confirmed in-game and might not be shared with everyone, I've given them a celebration day anyway. you are free to do what you wish.)

DAY 14: MALON + GUARD

(she is adorable. look at her)

DAY 15: IMPA + BOUND

(HOTTEST MOST SEXY MOST BADASS WOMAN IN THE FRANCHISE ‼️‼️‼️ I LOVE YOU IMPA YOU ARE PERFECT. SHUT UP I DEFINITELY DON'T PLAY FAVOURITES—)

DAY 16: FOUR SWORDS ADVENTURES ZELDA + PORTAL

(i loved her in the fsa manga. she's barely in it but STILL. go read it.)

DAY 17: FAIRIES + TIRED

(the great fairies, navi, ciela, tatl, proxi...)

DAY 18: TETRA + LEGACY

(isn't she KICKASS?!)

DAY 19: EPONA + BONE

(our lovely loyal girl 🥰)

DAY 20: A LINK BETWEEN WORLDS ZELDA + HOME

(SHE IS SUCH A GOOD PARALLEL TO HILDA PLEASSSSSE)

DAY 21: SARIA + WISH

(a classic character! isn't this picture so peaceful)

DAY 22: BOTW/AOC/TOTK ZELDA + PEACE

(SHE IS EVERYTHING TO ME. SCREAMING CLAWING CRYING. MY DARLING, YOUR FANARTISTS WERE THE ONES TO DRAW ME INTO THE ZELDA FANDOM. I HOPE I CAN RETURN THE FAVOUR ONE DAY)

DAY 23: CIA + LANA + STUDY

(technically, she's one person. between the two of them they certainly only wear enough clothes for one person... )

DAY 24: ARYLL + HUG

(sister to the hero! but what's her story?)

DAY 25: ECHOES OF WISDOM ZELDA + ARREST

(YEAHHHHHHHHH GIRL MONTH GIRL DAY GIRL GAME!!!)

DAY 26: CD-i ZELDA + HOLIDAY

(hehheehehehe. i bet you weren't expecting her. neither was i tbh)

DAY 27: PURAH + FIRE

(SHE'S CLEVER! I LOVE CLEVER WOMEN!)

DAY 28: ILIA + ERUNE + MEND

(listen. i know erune is a very niche character - she literally only exists in the four swords manga - but consider. i love her)

DAY 29: ALTTP/OOS/OOA/LA ZELDA + MISSING

(she has no canon personality. you know what that means. get the building equipment out fellas)

DAY 30: LINKLE + FAREWELL

(and here we are - LAST DAY!)

THE END! YAY! I CAN'T WAIT FOR SEPTEMBER - CAN YOU?

[nyree2712]

Top Gun - Incorrect Quotes 65

Maverick: *Calls Ice*

Iceman: EVERYONE SHUT THE FUCK UP, MY HUSBAND IS CALLING

Iceman: *Answers* Hello sweetheart?

Maverick: Hey darling, Are you busy? Because I need your help with the daggers train

Iceman: *In the middle of a poker reunion with the president, the NCIS director, CIA director, and FBI director* No, I'm free

Maverick: Our home in five?

Iceman: Mmm, yes, I could do it. Love you, see you later sweetheart * Hangs up* Okay I have to go my husband needs me.

President of America:...

Iceman: Oh goodbye President, see you next week, bye others

[victorbutnotreally]

IN SICKNESS AND IN HEALTH - LEE KNOW X MALE READER

warnings: fever, implied dust allergy, throat infection, body pain, medicine, migraine, sweetie pie lino

It felt like there were blades and sand in your throat. Your nose was blocked, your chest too. Every time you cough from the sheer pain and discomfort your throat was giving you, your head hurt more. Your body ached, you could barely stand without gripping onto something, and you couldn't even breath. You tried breathing with your mouth, but that just hurt your throat more. You had woken up in the dead of the night to make yourself some scalding black tea. It felt like CIA torture, but you drank it anyway. You took a Tylenol, but nothing seemed to make it better. Even the slightest amount of cool air made you shiver, the sound of your own breathing irritating you more.

It wasn't unusual for you to do everything yourself when you were sick. You just had a hard time asking for help, having people do this for you. It was your upbringing, you'd say. Your parents were adamant about making you self-reliant to a point where your heart would try to break out of your ribcage when you had to ask for help.

You were in the kitchen now, death grip on the counter as you made more black tea. You couldn't bring yourself to eat at the moment, food disgusted you in this state. A soup would be nice, but you can barely move. The effort wouldn't be worth it, you decided. Your body felt hotter than the stove as you inhaled the steam from the tea. Sliding down to the floor, you buried your face in your hands, trying to breathe without inhaling all the dust.

"Baby?" You heard Minho say, and you got up, gripping the counter for support.

Minho rushed over to you, concern painting his pretty features. He reached up and put a hand on your forehead, wincing as he felt your temperature.

"What are you doing in the kitchen right now, hm? Sit, I'll make something," he said with an almost motherly tone. You smiled internally, not having the energy to show it in your face. But you didn't want his help. You needed it, but you couldn't ask.

"Minnie, I'm fine. Just a bit of a cold, is all."

He shot you a questioning look, leading you to the chair and practically pushing you onto it.

"You're hotter than the stove," he said with a determined look, wanting to break your stubborn nature and make you something to eat. You let out a chuckle at his pout, feeling better somehow as you looked at him. "Thanks," you smirked, earning you an eye roll and a smack to your arm.

You coughed, covering your mouth. You then stood up to get the tea from the stove and he stopped you.

"I'll get it. You are not moving, Mister."

"I'm not a baby," you said, but the whine in your voice said otherwise. He cupped your cheeks. "You're my baby."

"Cheeky little shit," you mumbled, fighting back a smile. The pain in your body didn't go away one bit, but he was a nice distraction. He handed you the cup of tea which felt like fire in your throat, but it was still a bit soothing. You wanted to swallow every Tylenol you had, but that's definitely not a good decision.

You laid your head on the table and watched as Minho moved around the kitchen, making soup. You still felt that weird feeling from having to ask for help, but it was better since it was Minho. "It's just Minho," you thought to yourself.

When he came back with the soup, he sat on the edge of the table and took a spoonful of soup which he brought to your mouth.

"Ah~"

You rolled your eyes despite the smile on your lips.

"Feeding me now? What's next, you're gonna swaddle me?"

"I plan on burrito wrapping you and not letting you get up, so yeah."

You opened your mouth to protest but he fed you the soup. It was scalding hot and delicious, warm and comforting. Just what you needed.

"Thank you, sweetheart," you said, gazing up at him who was perched on the edge of your dining table. You put a hand on his thigh and squeezed it. "I love you, darling.." There was so much tenderness in your voice which was audible even through the weird voice you had because of your throat infection.

He swore he melted right then and there. The look in your eyes, the sweetness of your voice, and the firm yet gentle touch of your hand on his bare thigh, it was enough to make his heart swell. "I love you more."

"Using my sickness to win this fight, aren't you?"

"At least let me win when you're too tired to fight back."

And to that, you just smiled and gave him a soft kiss on his thigh.

"Eugh you're gonna give me your germs-"

"It's an allergy!"

[dia-oro]

Girrrrrl I Swear That Every Time I Go To a Yandere Blog From LU oor Normal That Occasionally Makes Yandere Content, I Always Find a Question Sent By You 💀Should We Call You Jesus Because You Are Everywhere? From The Amount Of Times I've Seen Your Username You Should Already Be a Registered Trademark

And While I'm At It, Do You Think The Chain Would Still Sabotage Darling's Attempts To Return To her or his World If They Knew she or he Desperately Wanted To Go Back To Be With her or his Family?

Currently There Are Not Many People Who Continue Writing About Yandere LU And I Want To Take Advantage Of The Fact That I Decided To Send a Message 😔 amiguemos

Thank you? I never thought I put so many ask to others blogs but I like what I like, a good yandere content :D

Mmmmm, sabotaging the darling? To a conscious or unconscious level? Because is depend of the yandere, for my taste a intelligent one or the classic mastermnd could do very subtle if the darling is that desperate.

Legend could fall totally in these two category's just as twilight or even wars, three of them a living mess, both emotionally and mentally. Legend would no doubt to do it, he lost so much, he always losing someone, Always, how many adventures he did already? Seven? Five? Eight with this one??? How many lives he meet how many he never see again, let's no forgot Marin... And you, like her will banish forever?? Nah, no men, this man is ready to do anything, anything even being catch red handle for darling being with him, I like to think he even got help from his brothers in arms with some manipulation or guilt tripping because let's be ones, there's no one that is no a little delulu or kuku in the head with their adventures and fighting Satan reincarnation, you cannot think like a common normal creature with no collecting traumas like my mother collect wallet's.

Twilight, oh twilight, this man is clinical depressed for sure, all sweet big brothering but inside? Man... And his reason to smile is wanting to got back to their world no even thinking in goodbyee or I will miss you?? This man look like a bear, is a tattered teddy bear, handle with care. The twilight will no depressed him, breathing will do it alone, callhe totally both conscious and at the same time no very much, the wolf in him will no let a mate go away, Wolfie is more present in him than ever, heck probably time will even laid his moral code and give his descendant a hand because is hurt to see him this way. Out of nowhere when the portal for home come back darling will black out and when awakened a white lie of a monster and a surprise attack will do it, sorry, twilight is so sorry and sad that you will never believe that anybody here try to sabotage it, less than was him teamed up with time.

Someone call the policy- wait, Wars is the policy so I guess, darling so sorry. This man is conscious of all he do and is ating him alive but the guilt will no stop, this man take so much time to even fall or admit that he love you, think he love you- Cia mess with him, mess with him all his young as soldier, as chosen hero, but more of know that he in the wrong, once again, he will no be stopped. Will plan it all, will managed to get at least one member of the chain to help him because they in the end all want his happiness for all the other link, the irony? Probably legend help him of all he do it, time will act as he see nothing and denied anything if darling ask, if he could he even make you accidentally fall in the portal of his era and be the shoulder to cry, guilty, so so guilty that for years he will no sleep okay in the night but only in darling arms.

Don't you think the manipulative one as sky dear, sky would to? Even a guilty but same as desperate as Hyrule? Both would do it, try to do it without darling noticing both for guilt and because they didn't want to be see as a bad person in their beloved eyes, imagine it! Imagine how heartbroken they got if the eyes of their darling got from these trusting ones to fear, repulsion and hate, better just be stabbed to dead than that. This can be applicate as no official chain members as koridai, age or even first, taking that light from darling would be sin that only dead can mend. Please, don't make Hyrule use the triforce wish if he got as desperate as you darling, he will no hesitate-

Have you though the mess wild will make??? Have you?? This man is a doer not a thinker when is coming to act, you have see his game, I did, all of us do, he will no hesitate, maybe after all say and done, I will need help, much help because I can totally see him being catch red handle, maybe if luck with him will look like he just was being his reckless self and we'll oh shite now you're living in his era look like, darling can be mad, hate him for a time but in the end, he darling last connection when all is over... He will be in time forgive and he as always will do his best to gain his darling trust back, sometimes he did feel guilt but most he only thinking of the goal.

Four, four is a problem and there's no fixing, he maybe could let you got, if four was like no the meme of inside out, and Vio and blue are carrieging this man right now, red is just heartbroken, that all, only thinking you want to go home this dispairing is all needed to break this poor color, green is trying to no let things got ape shit but boy he too want you with them, want red happy again, and by the gods he will make sure all will got as he wish. Darling Don't have chance, is a third (red is to wrenched to do a thing) vs darling, three heads ready to destroy any dream of you seeing your friends and family, sorry, but putting the colours in harmony again and having you win four better judgement.

Someone call the police again- wait, there's nobody coming to help you, malon already know of you, think of you as time second wifey but also Her wifey, did you think you can go away? And let malon hurt?? Time both love you, and he will not let his first wife to got her mind full of illusions and dreams (his fault) to you to just got away... Sorry but you will no got away, end of the chat, home just unsubscribe out of you. Hope you like lon-lon ranch, darling didn't even think of her old home till a year or two later and is like the meme of 'wtf I'm here?' .

But maybe is only me but then again, a yandere that did got with his ways and still didn't destroy darling trust is very attractive for me, all these boys are intelligent, no matter if like only two or three have education, they are intelligent, resourceful and even with no help they can turn the tables.

As a bonus that nobody needed, if their hyrule is very fucked up and they don't had anything to lose... Some links could got to your world happy, First for sure would.

Hope you like and friend are always welcome!

[rockstvrdotcom]

❁ // YANDERE! EYELESS JACK SFW + NSFW HCS

synopsis: ej is sosososoosoososooo inlove with you— literally fell for u the second he saw u and he knew he couldn't let anyone else have you

that jtk yandere hcs request sparked smth in me..

tw/cw: noncon, stalking, kidnapping, ej has multiple tongues lol, begging, overstimulation, rough sex, ej gives u brain 😛, dumbification.. (i think), marking, being tied up, breeding kink

SFW

- you had caught ej on his mission, you were a heavily trained cia member and were often assigned to serial killers; he was much more stronger than you. he easily overpowered you and knew he couldn't let you go.

- but he didn't want to kill you, he was taken aback by your beauty. he brought you back to the mansion and held you captive, caring for you no matter what profanities you spat at him, or how many times you uselessly throwed punches and scratched his face.

- called you stupid but cute lil pet names— sometimes just straight up called you pet. calls you sweetheart, darling, my love, angel, princess; all of that cute corny stuff.

- loves to see you in his shirts, forces you to wear them even if its just a simple plain black shirt.

- gets furious whenever you mention leaving him or the mansion, or when you mention that you have a life and a boyfriend to go back to. he doesn't tell you he's already killed your boyfriend— and everybody else close to you, he's afraid you'll hate him forever. he screams at you, telling you that all you need is him and nothing else.

- if you ever mention leaving him or ever mention your family, job, or boyfriend; he'll sometimes leave you isolated for days (or something else..) no food nor water, chained up to your shared bed. he shows you how life would really be like if you didn't have in.

- totally accidentally killed your boyfriend, cooked him and fed him to you.. to this day you still have no idea.

- very attentive

NSFW

- whenever you mention leaving him or mention anything outside of your life with him, he'd typically leave you in a dark room for days with nothing. but on special occasions.. he'll bend you over the bed and fuck you senseless, making you chant his name. he pounds into you until the only thing on your mind is him; and how much you love him.

- loves to make you beg for him during sex. or just anywhere- it makes him so hard when you beg in a whiny voice and look up to him, pleading. (he towers over you).

"fuck... jack, please slow down. it's too much—" he cuts you off by putting his hand around your throat. you can't remember how many times you've orgasmed already. you sobbed; in both pleasure and overstimulation. you feel him throbbing inside of you, and it feels like heaven.

"i won't stop until you admit that you are mine, my love."

- eats you out.. alot. literally almost every day. hes obsessed with the taste of you. your legs are almost always hoisted up onto his shoulders while he uses his tongues to pleasure you in a way you've never felt before.

- his dick is 7 inches dont play w me.

- obsessed with tying you up, also likes to carve, draw or tattoo his name/initials on you; especially on your thighs, ass and sometimes right above or next your pussy. it's his way of showing you that you belong to him— and so does your cunt.

- has a very prominent breeding kink. constantly talks about putting his babies in you so you can't ever leave him.

your hands were tied to the headboard of your guys' bed, the bed creaking; it sounded as if it was about to crack. ej was deep inside of you, grunting and growling like a feral animal. his teeth were sunken into your neck as he endlessly talked about cumming inside of you and you won't ever be able to leave him if you have his kids.

"you'll be the perfect mother, sweetheart." 💗

- loves to fondle with your tits and grip at your thighs. it's his favorite part of your body; he often leaves marks all over them or writes/carves his name onto them.

- during sex, he's either making love to you or fucking you so hard you're unable to walk for days. when you've made him happy or anything else he would typically praise you for, it's as sweet and romantic as it could possibly get. when you've made him upset or angry? your left on the bed with his cum leaking out of your pussy, your legs so unbelievably sore.

- makes you cockwarm him while he's doing 'work'. he loves the feeling of your warm walls around his cock.

i hope u guys enjoyed this one! tips/writing advice is very appreciated!

[lostinwildflowers]

Trust Me

Sierra Six x Reader

Summary: You and Six have a long history. When things go awry on an unusual mission, rooms are tight and tensions run high.

Word Count: 14K (I am so, so sorry.)

Warnings: very slight enemies to lovers(in the backstory), mentions of pain, injuries(including temporary hearing loss), blood, guns/weapons, mentions of panic/anxiety/insecurities, angst, swearing/kinda harsh language at times, but fluff, lots of pining, hurt/comfort if you will, one-bed trope, dum dum feelings, and my inability to skip a backstory, no beta we die like men

A/N: Hello my darlings! I am here with a fic I have been very nervous and excited to write and to post. This is my first time ever writing for The Gray Man/Sierra Six, but the Ryan Gosling brain rot was too much for me to handle. Please give me feedback on this!! - Birch <3

Important Info:

-Reference #1 - Inspiration for the Croatian house, not exact

-Reference #2 - Six's light blue suit

-Reference #3 - Sunset drive

-Reference #4 - Inspiration for the bed and breakfast

The weight of the gun in your hands was a steady constant as your feet tread noiselessly but confidently over the slate-tiled floor. The laces to your boots were tied down tightly, the pressure on your heels and ankles a comfort when you were at work.

You found solace in the rifle strapped to your back, and relief in the throwing blades tucked into your belt. Skill and years of training have made you adept at weaponry of all forms.

Capable of killing a man with a soup spoon and a shoestring, you were undoubtedly deadly. However, your choice of weaponry always landed on armaments with lethality at a distance.

Being one of the best shots in your division had your name floating around the CIA. Typically working with different groups of people as needed, you were never stuck to just one set of people.

When news started floating around that the Sierra Program was looking for partners for some of their agents, people started wondering as to who would be chosen. You didn't bother with the gossip, instead focusing on honing your craft and getting better.

Thus, when you were first sat down and interrogated about your knowledge of the Sierra program, you were surprised. You knew as much as the next person from the gossip in the office - agents who usually worked alone and got their hands dirty when no one else could.

The officers that questioned you were leaving bits and pieces out of the conversation. You could tell there were gaps in their questions and the answers that they were looking for from you.

Slowly, you were starting to piece it together.

You would be an ideal partner for the infamous Sierra Six. While the CIA recruit was skilled in all facets of, well, murder, it benefitted him to have someone who could watch his back from a distance.

Sierra Six was known to always be about the job. He focused on getting in and getting out. No injuries. No casualties. None of his blood spilled. Just eliminate the target and move on to the next one.

With Six being as skilled as he was, a man who almost always worked alone, you were nervous to accept being his partner. However, you knew this could be your chance to step up a level.

Apprehensively, you agree to a mission with the CIA operative. And frustratingly, the first time you met Sierra Six was in the field.

On your initial assignment with Six, you had asked Carmichael for a general description of the man so you knew who not to shoot at if things got dicey.

Tall. Muscular. Bit of facial hair. Super helpful, right?

You still remember the first words you said to his face. You had thought about getting reassigned.

---

"I'm in position and I've got eyes on the target, Six do you copy?" your voice came out as a quiet whisper. Laid out on your stomach in the dense woods of Croatia, you had sweat dripping down your forehead and chest.

Having your first mission be in the hot, dry summer of the Mediterranean country probably wouldn't have been your first choice with your new partner, but it could have been worse.

Focusing on the task at hand, you could see the target through the scope of your rifle, a wealthy "banker" who was selling drugs across borders in an attempt to disturb government agencies. You didn't really care too much about why you were there, just that you did your job and got home.

As Six's backup for this mission, you were camped out on the edge of a wooded area that had a view of the banker's private house. The target was hosting a large party that would act as a cover-up for business deals and shady operations.

The house was gorgeous, in your opinion. You had seen the open floor plan, the back porch that connected to a gazebo, and the huge deck. Then, it had a two-story pool and plenty of tables full of booze that seemed like a dream vacation for an average person.

And that is why you and Six were to strike at this party. It would be busy with people from all over the world to get in on the banker's dealings, allowing for you and Six to slip away from the property unnoticed.

With your spot in the trees, you had the natural cover of foliage. Six, on the other hand, had to attend the party as if he wanted to partake in business.

You didn't know what he would be dressed in or how you would be able to pick him out. All you knew was that you would have to rely on your instincts and the few words of description Carmichael gave you.

"Repeat, I've got eyes on the target. Six, do you copy?" There was more of a bite to your words this time, a little bit of your nerves peeking through your composure.

Despite having been a part of hundreds of missions, not knowing anything about the man you were supposed to trust to get you out of there was unnerving.

A few seconds go by before you hear his voice slide in through your earpiece. "I heard you the first time, sweetheart," it's deep and ever so slightly, rough. A wave of butterflies tickles your insides at the slight drawl to his voice, as well as the pet name, but you push them away as you try to regain your focus.

At the time, you didn't know he was actually talking to a woman at the party trying to get his attention. Six's response acted as a defense from the Italian woman trying to get him to sleep with her, and that he heard your voice over the coms.

But not realizing this, frustration was starting to well up in your throat, "Well if you heard me, answer. We only have 7 minutes to get out of here once you eliminate the target."

Again, it's quiet over the line until you hear the baritone voice again, "This isn't going to work unless you let me do my damn job."

This time, the anger started to surge red-hot. You knew he was good at his job, he had never failed a job in all of his years at the CIA, but this? He was already a pain in the ass.

You open your mouth to retaliate, but another voice cuts in, "Knock it off, you two. We put you two together because you are both the best at what you do. Play nice and you'll have your 7 minutes in heaven."

Carmichael, you think to yourself as you take a steadying deep breath. Neither you nor Six reply as the banker moves away from the house and out onto the open deck.

"The target is approaching a woman in a black dress," you inform as your eye narrows in through the scope of your gun, "There are only four people outside other than those two."

Six's voice comes quicker than you expected, "Copy that. I've made it to my position." His dialogue is short and overly direct, and you can't help but let your mind wander.

Is this how Six behaves normally? Is he always a man of such clipped words, or is it because I'm here? Does he not like the idea of having a partner?

A snap in the woods behind you makes you pull back from your scope, your eyes flitting from tree to tree, brush to brush. You don't see any large movement, no one trying to sneak up on you.

Instead, you are met with a small blue-rock thrush sitting above you, chittering its song out into the world. A deep sigh falls through your nose as you try to relax your tense muscles at the small animal.

The whole job had you on edge, but seeing the small blue-feathered bird flutter about its day was helping to ease your nerves when your partner seemed to be the one causing them.

Back at the house, Six was positioned in the gazebo, his gun tucked into the waistband of his light blue suit. The woman berating him had finally gone inside, leaving him alone.

Although you didn't have eyes on him, you knew where he was supposed to be. So you let your (colored) gaze return to your gun, a shaky breath escaping you as you aim the firearm back toward the house.

You could see the banker and the woman in the black dress moving closer to the top pool. The man leaned in close to the woman and whispered something into her ear. She turned away with a wide smile and rushed into the house.

"The woman in the black dress is headed back into the house, coast is clear once she passes you," you murmur into the com. A moment later, you see movement to the left of the banker. A man wearing a light blue suit appears from the gazebo, sunglasses covering his gaze.

The first thing you immediately notice is the dark goatee on the man's face. Another rush of nerves fills your stomach as you take in the angle of his jaw, and the curl of his dirty blonde hair on his forehead.

And the gun he was revealing in his hand.

Carmichael's voice cuts in, "Light it up Six, we need to get you out of there." Walking with an already brisk stride, the man in the light blue suit, evidently Six, masterfully gets behind the man, raises his arm with the gun, and lines up his shot.

At the same time, you train your rifle on the target's head, using your peripheral vision to keep an eye out for anyone who isn't supposed to be there.

You don't hear the shot ring out, and you have to assume Six is using a gun with a silencer. The banker didn't stand a chance against Six's deadly aim, slowly falling forward before crashing into the pool.

You see Six immediately take a step back into the gazebo while wiping his fingerprints from the gun, throwing the weapon into the pool after the target.

"Target eliminated," Six's voice comes out gravelly. Carmichael cuts in, "Your 7 minutes have started, get out of there, Six."

The Sierra agent doesn't reply to Carmichael, and you pull back from your gun with a huff leaving your lips. It's go time, you think to yourself as you efficiently collapse the gun stand your rifle was sat on, gloved fingers working with an ever-so-slight shake.

You glance down at your watch as you finalize your belongings, the 7-minute timer on your wrist now counting down. Your eyes widen as you watch the digits rapidly decline and you say, "Six, we're down to 5 and a half minutes. Are you out of the house yet?"

There is no reply.

You curse under your breath as you look back at the house, debating on what to do. You sling the firearm over your shoulder, making sure nothing is left behind from your cover.

You force yourself to take a deep breath as you start to pick your way toward the escape vehicle, aiming for the other side of the woods where you had stashed it. You try the com again, "Six, where are you?"

Again, silence. This time, your internal fears are rapidly echoed by Carmichael's voice, "Six, get out of there now. You only have 4 minutes left before your cover will be blown."

You make it to the black get-away car after another minute of hustling through the thick Croatian forest, ungracefully throwing your rifle into the back seat. You debate getting into the driver's seat and pulling up to the house, but you know that might only make things worse.

After another few seconds of nothing in your ear, you slam the rear driver's side door shut before a grunt crackles through the com. You hear a low moan of "shit" followed by a couple of deep pants.

"Six, we need to go, now!" you harshly whisper through the com, your head on a swivel to make sure no one from the road can see you. This time, you get an answer.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm working on it," Six hisses out. Another curse falls from your lips, and you rip open the door you had just shut, grabbing the rifle you threw down. Just as you start to make your way toward the house, you see a flash of light blue and white.

Six is running toward you, his light blue blazer and sunglasses seemingly missing. It's left him in a fitted white t-shirt, his matching light blue suit pants, brown Redwings, and a watch adorning his left wrist.

"What the hell happened?!" you rush out in anger as he approaches the car, chest heaving and sweat making his tanned skin shine. Six doesn't answer, moving toward the driver's side as he orders, "Get in, we gotta go."

You stare at him in disbelief as you repeat, "We gotta go? You are the one who took forever to get out of here. We might get caught because of you!"

Six stops at the driver's side door, throwing over his shoulder, "Yet you're the one standing outside of the car."

A groan of frustration rips its way out of your throat, and you open and close the rear door for a third time to slam the rifle down. You don't wait to hear if Six has a smart remark, instead, you clamber into the passenger seat and shut your door.

"Is that gun loaded?" Six asks you as he starts the car, not taking his eyes off of the dash as he takes the car out of park. You stare at him incredulously as you remark, "Yes, it is. I thought I was going to have to go in there and save your ass."

Six immediately hits the brakes on the car, causing you to lurch forward. You catch yourself with your hands at the last second, an angry gasp escaping you.

"What the hell, Six?!" you yell as you turn to face the agent for the first time. Now, you can get a good look at him.

His hair is a deep, sandy blonde. The strands seemed to have once been slicked back, but have fallen out of place from the... events of the job.

Next, you see the tan of his skin and the shine of sweat beading down his forehead from both exertion and the heat of the Mediterranean sun. You are instinctively drawn to the dark facial hair surrounding his mouth, and you can't help but think it makes him look tough.

His lips are parted to catch his breath and are a pleasant pink color. Only then do you realize his mouth is moving and is saying words to you. It draws your gaze up to meet his eyes.

Those eyes... such an intense, stormy blue. Sharp and deadly at first glance. Hypnotizing and mysterious the longer you maintain eye contact.

Damnit, he was attractive.

"What?" you state at him, trying to shake the haze from your first view of the Sierra agent from your mind. Six wipes at his face with his free hand, his left hand resting on the steering wheel.

"You don't throw a loaded gun, everyone knows that!" he hisses out as he turns to face the dash again. He is about to say something else, but Carmichael's voice cuts in.

"I said to play nice. Six, get the two of you out of there."

You clench your jaw down to avoid saying anything else, not wanting to get reprimanded for trying to do your job. Six must have thought something similar and moves to shift the car out of park again and begins driving the two of you away from the house.

It's tense in the car, and no one says anything. You have to build some courage up to sneak a glance at Six, who is staring straight ahead, eyes trained on the road in front of you.

This was going to be one hell of a partnership.

---

After the initial tension between you and Six, the two of you slowly developed a working relationship. You eventually realized that you could trust the Sierra agent, even if he was a smartass at times. He was the best, and despite being a man of few words, he was good at what he did.

For Six, his trust wasn't something you earned right away. You worked as his long-range attack partner for countless missions over the last three years, and you still didn't know if you fully had his trust.

You had to believe he had some solid belief in your ability as a marksman. On one mission about six months after your initial meeting, he watched three men stop and fall in their tracks before he had to intercept them, a bullet lodged in each of their chests. He had paused and tilted his head like it may have impressed him.

Now, three years into being partners, a new threat appeared that you and Six were assigned to. One that required you to be one step behind Six and fight hand-to-hand as needed.

It's not that you weren't capable of close-range attacks. You practiced all types of moves and attacks, but you were exceptional when slightly removed from the throes of action with a long-distance rifle.

Now here you were, just a few strides behind Six, the slate-tiled floor beneath you doing a good job of concealing your nervous footsteps.

The tall man in front of you could tell you were uneasy. He could feel a heavy tension lacing the air, more than he was used to. It took every minute of his training to keep his own thoughts at bay to focus on the mission.

The two of you were in the field for a stealth-type mission rather than just a hit-and-run. The plan was to stick to the shadows in tactical gear, rather than blend into the crowd with the sharp suits Six was accustomed to. It was one of the only parts of the mission that you felt fully at ease, donning your usual gear and weapons.

Six's broad figure pausing in front of you rips your attention back to the present. The hallway the two of you were sleuthing down had come to a T junction. You can see Six's head swivel left, then right.

You come to a pause just a pace behind him, and you adjust your grip on your rifle. He rotates his body quietly so his back is toward the wall and so that he can semi-face you.

"I'll go to the left to start toward the target. The right side has one door at the end of the hall, make sure there is no one in the stairwell waiting to ambush us," his voice comes as a low murmur. His gloved hands were loading his gun, his choice a Heckler & Koch USP pistol.

You give him a nod and whisper back, "On you." Six just gives you a silent glance that confirms your words. With his pistol drawn and loaded, Six moves.

You've always been in awe at how such a muscular man could move with such grace, but Six managed to pull it off with ease. As his figure disappears around the corner to the left, you drop in position to cover his back.

Your footsteps have grown more unnerved now that you are on your own. In the back of your mind, you know that Six is behind you, headed in the opposite direction. But now? You were making the calls for yourself.

You force yourself to take a deep breath through your nose, slowly exhaling through your mouth. You bring your pistol into a firing position, the 4th Gen Glock 17 pressed tightly into the palm of your right hand.

There are no doors on either wall in the right-wing you begin to traverse down. There is just a large, tan-colored door at the end of the hallway with a small pane of glass. Red letters spelling "Emergency Stairwell" are printed just below the small window.

As far as you can tell, there are no lights on in the stairwell. You force yourself to pick up your slightly sluggish pace to get this part of the mission over with. You stick to the right wall as you approach the door, your eyes trained on the glass in an attempt to spot any figures hiding on the shadowy stairs.

You don't spot anything as you peer through the glass, no movement, no people. Your gloved fingers try the door handle next, but it is locked. A sigh of defeat slides through your nose, and you pull your arms back to your chest, the pistol pointed toward the ceiling.

As you turn your head back to the direction you came, you are met with an empty hallway. No Six. You can see the endless array of doors, knowing that Six could have easily slipped through any of them as he chased down the target.

You don't hear anything from your com, and you quietly say, "Nothing at the door. Heading to you, Six." You begin to move away from the tan-colored door, footsteps gaining confidence as your mind finally clicks into work mode.

You only make it a few steps before you hear it.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Then a beat of silence.

As you turn back to the door, a loud blast rings out. The door is blown off of its hinges and the explosion from the stairwell sends you flying.

The air is ripped from your lungs as you are thrown into the wall you were following before you land unceremoniously on your back. Your mouth falls open in shock as your nerve endings fire pain signals over and over again.

It starts with your chest aching at the way your lungs are fighting for air, the impact with the wall, and then the ground leaving you breathless. From the stress of it all, your heart is beating erratically, slamming against your ribcage uncomfortably.

Then, the pain travels upward to your throat, where it is burning from the lack of oxygen and the smoke now filling the hallway. A dull throb begins to radiate from the back of your head where you know it slammed into the ground.

You can barely make out the sting of a cut on your cheek, too concentrated on the way your hips and legs shake to add to the overwhelming sensation of pain.

In the midst of your agony, you slowly start to realize the world is too quiet. You can only hear blood roaring in your ears, but not the debris falling from the ceiling where it had been torn open. You can't hear footsteps you know are bound to be heading toward you.

You can't hear anything.

The weight of your realization terrifies you. The pressure in your chest from lack of air terrifies you. The whole mission terrified you.

You can feel panic start to set in as your lungs burn due to the lack of oxygen in your body. I can't breathe. I can't hear. I'm alone. I'm going to die here. Alarm bells are going off everywhere in your body and before you know it, your body forces a gasp out of your throat followed by a shuddery deep breath.

The sudden rush of oxygen makes your throat feel raw and sore, but this time it's more manageable. You blink wearily as dust and smoke start to curl around your body, the air is thick and you can't see much.

As you start to come to your senses, a coughing fit forces you onto your side, your body screaming at you not to move. The force of your coughs makes you dizzy, your head spinning and your vision blurry as you try to make out your position.

You can tell there is a gaping hole to your right where the door used to be, but you can't make out any figures or people moving toward you. Tears start to build up in the corner of your eyes, blurring your already worsening vision.

You swing your head to the left, a sharp pain stabbing at the back of your head from the sudden movement. "Shit!" you hiss out, your now empty right hand reaching behind your head to your hair, shaky gloved hands revealing a dark red liquid oozing onto the black material.

"That's not good," you slur out, your balance wobbling as you shift to get up. Your vision once again tries to focus on the left wing of the hallway, where through the smoke and dust, you start to see movement.

Despite being fairly disoriented, the movement causes your heart to skip a beat and your stomach to drop. You try to stop moving and remain as still as possible as the figure gets closer.

You still can't hear anything, so if the figure says something, you can't tell. Your heart's rhythm begins speeding up as the person continues to get closer, but eventually, you can start to pick out defining pieces of the person.

Tall. Muscular. Bit of facial hair.

"Six!" you try to cry out, your mind willing your voice to work even though you can't tell if sound is coming out. The cry catches and breaks in your throat, only managing to come out as a garbled whisper to the outside listener.

At the faint sound, the figure instantly stops moving. A second passes and you try to repeat, "Six, over here..." but your voice gives out and comes out as an indistinct whimper.

The figure, now identified as Six, catches sight of your limp body sprawled on the ground. "Oh, shit," he states, but you can only see his lips moving as he rapidly approaches you.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his blue gaze flickering over your dirty and bloodied body as he stops next to you. You just stare up at him, watching the dirty blonde through a glazed view as he takes note of your visible injuries.

There's a cut on your cheek, a deep gash on your arm, and some other small scrapes on your exposed skin. It makes his blood boil and he wants to kill whoever did this, but he knows he has to shift priorities.

"Y/n, are you alright?" he repeats, this time kneeling down to get closer to you, his eyes trained on your face. Again, you watch as his lips move soundlessly and the usually stoic look on his face shifts to concern.

You open your mouth to respond, one of Six's large palms coming up to grasp you on the shoulder, and you cry out at his touch. Pain shoots through your body and your eyes snap shut.

This time, the cry comes out more clearly, and you don't hear Six ask you where it hurts. Only when he gently lifts your jaw with one of his hands do you open your pained (colored) eyes.

"Where. Does. It. Hurt?" he asks slowly, each word coming out methodically and calmly to try to minimize your panic. You watch his lips move, and the tears that had gathered at the edge of your vision begin to slide down your cheek as you stutter, "I- I can't h-hear you."

The words are slightly off-tone and garbled as they reach Six's ears, and his eyes widen ever-so-slightly in realization. He gently releases your jaw and looks down for a second, his hand coming up to his ear as he says over the coms, "Aborting mission. L/n is out of commission and I can't get in there without her."

You then realize your com has been knocked out of your ear and is somewhere in the rubble surrounding you. Not that it would help you now. Six drops his hand from his head and regains eye contact with you, blue eyes stormy with an unreadable emotion.

He reaches down and grabs your empty hand before placing it on his chest. Six ensures you are looking at him as he mouths, "Trust me." You do your best to read his lips, and you feel a small flutter of relief as his words click in your head, and you give him a pained nod.

Six pulls your hand from his chest and wraps it around his neck and shoulders, and you do your best to help him situate you. The quick movement makes you dizzy and your vision gets black spots as Six adjusts you so he can haul you to your feet.

Your arm tightens around his neck and your other hand grabs onto a piece of his bulletproof vest in an attempt to steady yourself. Six murmurs in your ear, "I gotcha, I gotcha," but you are none the wiser.

Carefully and methodically, Six maneuvers you so that he can have his gun drawn in his right hand and his left hand wrapped around your waist. He holds you flush to his side as your right arm wraps around his torso as firmly as you can.

Without dawdling, Six begins to guide you down the hallway you initially came from, his whole body on edge as he tries to get the two of you out of the hellhole you found yourselves in. Thankfully, it seems as though the building has been vacated or never had many people inside to begin with.

He helps you down the few flights of stairs painstakingly slow before you reach ground level, your chest heaving and limbs trying to give out. The two of you approach an exit door that leads out of the building, and a little wave of relief washes over you at the thought of getting out.

As he starts to peer out the door in search of a get-away car, a quiet ringing sounds out in your ears. You try to focus, but the ringing sound grows louder and louder, worsening your pre-existing headache. You close your eyes in an attempt to will it away, but nothing happens.

Six's grip tightening on your waist grounds you, but does little to ebb the pain building in your skull. He tugs you to try to get you to move, but when you don't budge, he knows something is wrong.

He gently pushes a piece of hair out of your eyes, the touch making you shiver and loosen some of the tension building in your face. It makes your eyes flutter open and you see that stormy emotion in his eyes again as your gaze meets his.

"Jump," he mouths and points up, moving to stand in front of you, parting your legs with his boot. You balance yourself on his broad shoulder, your left arm throbbing where the blood is gathering down your arm.

You do your best to jump and wrap your legs around his waist, but Six's hands are right there to guide and shift you as he wraps his arm around your back. He once again draws his gun, and in a fluid movement, pushes through the door and takes off toward a car he spotted near the end of the building.

You know he's trying to be as careful as he can, but each time his feet hit the ground your body is wracked with pain. You can't stop the whimpers you know that fall from your lips, but you try your best to bury them in the junction of Six's neck and shoulder.

The Sierra agent hears every single one, and he internally curses at how poorly the mission has gone. He stumbles to a stop on the passenger side of the random car, placing his gun on the roof while he pries the door open and gently urges you inside.

Once he sees you're safely inside, he grabs the gun, shuts the door, and jogs around to the driver's side. He slides in, setting his gun in the center console, starting the car as he closes his door with a huff.

Through your pain and bleary vision, you can't see any injuries on Six, thankfully. If anything, you think he looks annoyed as he pulls the car away from the building and the failed mission.

You take a deep breath and close your eyes, trying to focus on stopping the pain from radiating all over your body. You know the adrenaline that had been coursing through your body is wearing off, making the pain much more real.

Beside you, Six's left hand is clamped down on the steering wheel, his fingers pale from the strength he was emitting from his grip. His right hand sat in his lap, balled into a fist that you interpreted as an anger response.

To Six, his hand twitched with the want to grab your thigh, cup your cheek, to ask if you were okay. He knew you weren't bleeding out, you wouldn't have made it this far if you were. But he could tell you weren't comfortable, and he didn't want to bother you until he came up with a game plan to get you somewhere safe.

Carmichael's voice in his earpiece was another annoyance he was done dealing with, so he pulled the small black com out and threw it out the window. He needed a plan, and he needed it fast.

---

Six was driving as far as he could get with the stolen vehicle. The sky was darkening, the heat of the day lowering to a twinkling, cooler sunset. Tones of orange and pink washed over the dash of the car, drawing his eyes to where you were fitfully resting.

You had fallen asleep about an hour into the drive, initially making Six concerned. But, the blonde-haired man could tell you were still alive by the shaky breaths every couple of seconds.

Despite being covered in dried blood and debris, the rays of the sun made you glow in a way he could have never imagined. Similar to how you had initially thought Six was attractive, he had similar opinions about you.

He could picture you yelling at him on that first mission in Croatia, furious he was late. At the time, he thought you were a pain in the ass, but somehow cute when you were mad. But now, with you toying with death in the glow of the dying sun, you had never been more beautiful.

Locks of (colored) hair were warmed by the orange hues refracted through the car's windshield. Pink tones crept along the edges of your features, softening the hardened and pained look on your resting face.

The car hit a small bump and you shifted, Six's attention snapping back to the road for a second to ensure he wasn't going to run off the side of the highway. Then, he peers over at you, gauging the look on your face. It had contorted in pain, and then your eyes fluttered open.

You had to blink against the harsh light of the sunset, and as you come to your senses, you realize that the ringing in your ears has faded into the rumbling of the car's engine.

Your head wobbly turns to look at Six, who has a pensive but blank expression on his face as he drives. His grip has relaxed on the steering wheel, and he again glances over at you as you start to sit up.

You wince at the tugging in your arm, a gasp falling from your lips. Your reaction is cut off when you hear Six's voice rumble lowly, "Easy there." You turn to look at him, surprise on your face as you ask, "W-what did you say?"

Six glances at you again, surprise also lacing his features as he regards you, "Easy there... you feeling better?" A smile tugs its way onto your lips as the sound of his baritone voice fills your ears. Your headache seems to have dulled with the nap too, and you reply stiffly, "Y-yeah, I think so."

The agent stays quiet for a few moments, his gaze focused on the road as it shifts from a highway to a thin road, a town coming into view. A small, family-styled store appears on the side of the road, and Six murmurs, "Hold on, I'm going to get some stuff."

He pulls the car into the parking lot with an easy, nonchalant look. The car rolls to a stop and the rumble of the engine cuts out as you manage to sit the whole way up. Six turns to face you, his eyes stormy looking again.

Without saying a word, he changes his focus to the center console and pops it open, digging for any loose money. He reaches down into a small cubby within the center console, his fingers fiddling around for a second before they reappear with a wad of cash.

Six nods toward the store as he unbuckles his bulletproof vest and removes his weapons, "I'll be right back." He quickly throws his gear into the back seat, and you give him a nod of confirmation you don't know if he sees. You choose to settle back down into your seat as you watch his figure disappear into the store.

Now that you are alone and awake, you finally can assess your injuries with decent enough judgment. You flick down the sun visor, finding the small mirror you prayed would be there.

You are taken aback by your appearance. There is a thin slice across your cheek, likely from a chunk of the door flying by your head. It has left a trail of dried blood on your cheek, as well as dirt and grime over your other features.

There are some other small scrapes on the edges of your face, but thankfully nothing major. Your gaze flicks down to your torso and arms next, glad to see that your bulletproof vest kept your vital organs safe. You also note that your chest and stomach have stopped hurting from the lack of air, which you are grateful for.

Must have just been because I got slammed against the wall and ground, you think to yourself. Your left arm is then brought to your attention as the dull throb comes back to life. You see the gash that led to blood pouring down your arm, and you grimace. While the gash hurt, the pain was dulled compared to when it first was injured.

No, there was something else that hurt on your left side.

Pulling back the part of your bulletproof vest that was closest to your shoulder, you felt a surge of pain. You could feel a rush of warmth from your shoulder seeping down your chest, and your mouth parts as a pained gasp erupts from you.

Your fingers instantly release your vest, the pressure from the vest helping to stop the bleeding. Shit. Shit. Shit. How do I tell Six? You flip the sun visor of the car back up, and as you pull your hand back to sit on your lap, fresh, bloody fingerprints smeared on the tan interior.

You don't get any time to think as you see Six returning with bags of supplies. He sets them in the rear seats alongside his gear and then joins you in the front of the car, starting the engine without a word.

You watch him carefully and silently, your heart skipping a beat as you watch him swallow thickly. His Adam's apple bobs before he coughs lightly to clear his throat, and he turns to look at you.

"There's a small bed and breakfast just down the road from here," he states blankly. You let out a shaky breath and reply simply, "Okay." Six turns back to the wheel, backing the car out slowly and guiding it onto the road.

It's silent in the car, this time uncomfortably so. There was a shift in the air from where he had seemed so concerned about you, to this reserved, business-type attitude.

It reminded you of when you were first partnered with him, and it made a lump well up at the back of your throat. He hates me now. I've finally failed him after all this time. He thinks I'm a terrible partner and that I've blown his reputation. Fuck!

You try to fight the tears burning at the corners of your vision, but you can't help the few that slide down your cheeks. You hastily go to wipe them away, momentarily forgetting about the cut on your cheek.

A hiss slides past your lips as you rub over the cut, your fingers now slick with tears and dried blood. Six instantly looks over at you, a flash of concern on his face before it returns to stoicism.

"We're almost there," is all he says. His words are enough for now, even though you know they aren't very comforting. Seconds feel like hours until you pull into the parking lot of the cabin-style bed and breakfast hotel Six had mentioned.

The building is old, you can tell. The wooden beams are huge and solid, a historic grace about the building. You can see the cute porch with rocking chairs to view the road, and hanging just above them is a small sign.

H&H's Bed and Breakfast Lodging.

Your (colored) eyes are locked onto the sign when Six once again brings the car to a stop before cutting the engine. The two of you sit there in silence for a moment before you both start speaking at the same time.

"We have to figure out how to get you in-" "I don't think I can take my vest-"

Six continues staring over the dash of the car, mulling over ideas and the words he heard you speak. To you, he looks mad. You had rarely seen Six angry, and it wasn't something you needed right now.

The blonde-haired man finally looks over at you, and he can tell you are scared. There you are, covered in your own blood and tears, running from what was probably the worst day of your life, putting all of your trust in him.

Trust me.

Those words ring loud in Six's head, and he takes a deep breath, sighing through his nose. He unclenches his jaw, relaxing his body to hopefully put you at a little more ease.

He watches your body unlock just a notch, and he knows he's made the right decision. He clears his throat before murmuring, "We need to get you inside. I got some stuff for us."

Six reaches into the back seat to grab the two bags of items he had gotten. He rummages around for a second before pulling out a large sweatshirt that looks like it was probably meant for him.

His azure gaze meets your own, and he offers it to you, "We'll get you cleaned up inside." The words come out a little harsher and more blunt than he intended, but you can see the meaning behind his eyes.

We need to get where no one can see us before we deal with this.

You give him a silent nod, taking the dark gray sweatshirt from his hands. You slide it on with great difficulty over your bulky gear, your arms aching and body sore, but the bagginess of the material hides your weaponry and wounds fairly well.

Six reaches over to you, slowly. His body cages yours momentarily, making your breath catch in your throat. You look up at him, (colored) eyes wide as he pushes that stubborn piece of hair out of your face.

Then, he tugs up the hood on the sweatshirt, situating it so the material covers the cut on your cheek. He leans away and nods toward the building, "Shall we?"

You feel like you can breathe again once he is out of your personal space, but you can't stop the butterflies that bloom in your belly at the gentleness of his touch. You don't bother giving him an answer, instead opting to turn toward your door and open it to cover the flush you sure was covering your face.

You have to bite your lip to keep any groans of pain from pushing through, and you look out across the parking lot to see the sun has sunk below the horizon. The sky is now painted in a blueish-purple, and the stars are peeking through.

You hear Six close the driver's side door, and you turn to face him. You see he has the bags he had gotten in his left hand, and he beckons you over to him with his right.

Clad in a tight black t-shirt and black tactical pants, your throat catches as you walk up to Six. His hair is messily covering his forehead, and you can see a tiredness on his features. Despite the massive failure of today, you can't help but think Six looks good.

You stop in front of him, and you see a small tug of a smile pull at the corner of his pretty mouth before he says, "Okay, I will get our room, you try not to look suspicious. Just follow my lead."

You let a small smile of your own slide onto your lips at seeing the Six you knew start to come back out. You mumble back, "Sounds good."

Before you can register it, Six has tucked you under his right arm, the hood of the sweatshirt falling down into your eyes. You can't really see where you are going, but the feeling of Six pressed up against you is reassuring.

Six guides you slowly through the front doors, passing the intricate wooden rocking chairs to the reception desk. An older lady is waiting and she gives the two of you a warm smile and asks, "What can I do for the two of you?"

Six gives the woman a polite, tight-lipped smile as he replies, "Just a room for the evening, please." The elderly woman gives him a knowing grin and gushes, "Looks like your wife has had a rough day. Let me see what I can get you two that's comfortable!"

Before Six can correct her, the woman has disappeared into the back, likely to get you a key. In her absence, you sneak a peak up at Six. His jaw is clenched down, and there is a slight pink tint running across his cheeks and down the curve of his throat.

You can sense Six shift uncomfortably, the locks of dirty blonde hair falling into his face, adding to his rugged look. You can't bring yourself to tear your eyes away, and he notices you looking up at him.

Six swears his heart jumps to his throat the way you are gazing at him. (Colored) eyes glossed over, lost in some world he can't imagine. There is an intensity there that ruffles him and makes him uneasy. You casually reach up to his face with your right arm, brushing some of the stray hairs off of his forehead with a gentle touch.

Six goes to say something as you pull your hand away, but the two of you are interrupted when the woman returns. The woman, Hilda, her name tag reads, hands Six a room key with a gentle smile.

You tuck your head into Six's right side, your right hand coming up to rest on his pec as you avoid the woman's gaze. You feel the agent tense underneath you before softening, his right hand holding the key coming up to wrap around your waist.

His grip is secure and very, very comforting. You let yourself get lost in the feeling for a second before you hear him murmur down to you, "Darling, could you hold the bags so I can pay?"

Your heart lurches at the pet name, another wave of butterflies swarming your stomach. You just give him a quick "mhm", your fingers sliding down his chest to grab the two bags from his left hand.

They aren't too heavy, but just enough to make your injuries ache. You bite down on your tongue to keep a strangled sound from escaping your mouth, and Six quickly fishes out the remaining chunk of cash to hand to the woman.

She quietly takes the payment and chirps, "There is free hot chocolate in the kitchen. Your room is on the second floor and there is an elevator outside the drink area. Enjoy your stay!"

Six thanks the woman and tugs on your waist with a sweet, "C'mon honey." He effortlessly takes the bags back from you, allowing you to use him as a walking stick to get to the elevator. Your knees were weak from the sudden onset of pet names, but you would blame it on the exhaustion of the day.

Six was warm against you, something that you were unconsciously drawn to. As he pressed the button for the elevator, you leaned into him. If Six cared, he didn't show it. Knowing that Hilda was still watching, Six leaned down and murmured to you, "I'm gonna kiss you on the head. She's watching."

You tense up against him, butterflies jumping from low in your belly to welling up in your throat. Six almost doesn't follow through at the way your body runs rigid, but then you shift against him and position the top of your head toward him.

A smile breaks across Six's face, a genuine one at how much you trust him. A moment later, he leans down and presses a chaste kiss to the top of your head, which was still covered by the hood of the sweatshirt Six had gotten.

The feeling of his lips furthered the dizziness in your head, but the elevator doors opened and you had no choice but to stumble in. Six was right there to steady you, his hand tightening on your waist as he pushed the button to the second floor once situated in the elevator.

As the door to the elevator began to close, he could see Hilda watching them, a look of nostalgia on her face. She gives him a quick wink, and then the door slides shut.

You expect Six to release you now that you are protected from view within the elevator, but his grip remains the exact same. You open your mouth to let him know it's okay to let you go, but you remember how you stumbled and think better of it.

A few seconds later the elevator lurches to a stop, and Six glances down at you and motions with his head toward the hallway. He helps you walk, sort of, as you make your way to the designated room.

You're still unsteady, but better than before, so as you get to your room, you very slowly slip out of Six's grasp. You don't see the flash of emotion that resembles hurt on his face, but he instead fiddles with the key, sliding it into the lock and opening the door.

"Ladies first", he motions, pocketing the key and adjusting his grip on the bags. You grip the wall to help you in, and Six is close behind, silently ushering you forward so he can get the door closed and locked.

As you stumble through the small hallway, your eyes are drawn to the middle of the room.

Oh, shit. The thought comes. You can't even bring the words to form in your mouth and then Six appears behind you, curious as to why you stopped moving.

"Oh, shit," he voices. Six is standing behind you, but towering over the top of your head, it's plain as day.

There's only one bed.

Six sighs and mumbles something under his breath, and you shuffle to face him, embarrassment evident on your face. You motion toward the corner of the room where an uncomfortable-looking chair sits and stammer, "I- uhm, I can, I'll sleep in the chair."

The agent's gaze flits between you, the chair, and the bed before returning back to you. He says nothing but raises an eyebrow.

Six slips around you and heads straight for the bed with the bags. A pang runs through you at the thought that Six doesn't try to fight for you to take the bed, but then you watch as he dumps the contents of the bags onto the quilt overlay, and your eyes drink in the stuff that he bought. You can catch sight of more clothes, some medical supplies, and... snacks?

While he starts to organize the supplies, you start to pull on the sleeves of the sweatshirt you had put on in the car. You struggle to get your left arm out without screaming in pain, biting your lip to the point you can almost taste blood.

Your right arm was much easier, and then all you had to do was pull it up over your head. Your right arm bent easily to start pulling the fabric over your head, but the angle of your left arm made you yelp as you felt a rush of warmth and pain in your shoulder.

To make matters worse, the hoodie was pulled over your head, leaving you sightless, stuck, and in pain. Six turns around at the sound and has to stifle a laugh at how ridiculous you look, but then he remembers the little noise you let out in discomfort.

"Y/n," he mumbles with a small smirk that you can't see, "How did you get this stuck?" He watches your body slump with defeat and then your strained voice, "Can you please just help me get out?"

Six bites his tongue and replies smugly, "Yes ma'am," his digits easing the material over your head, leaving your hair disheveled and the rest of you generally unkempt. A deep groan falls from your lips as your tactical vest shifts over your hidden wound and Six pauses, his brows narrowing at your evident discomfort.

He had noted the cut on your left arm that had been leaking blood before, that was one he knew he needed to stitch up. But that injury wasn't the cause of that groan.

Then, his eyes spot the dark, wet material just a few inches above the cut. Fresh blood. His gaze widens as he looks back to the pained expression on your face.

Six throws the hoodie onto the bed before stalking over to you and growling out, "What the hell is that?" With his words, he points to the edge of your vest where the fresh blood is appearing.

You pant as you look up at him, eyes half-lidded as you snarl through gritted teeth, "It's nothing." Six looks at you in disbelief before responding, "It's obviously not nothing, you're starting to bleed out."

Six doesn't give you time to respond, one arm scooping under your legs and the other resting under your back as he picks you up bridal style. You hiss in pain at his movement, but he maneuvers quickly as he carries you into the bathroom.

It's a rather spacious bathroom for such an old building, and Six sets you on the counter so your feet are dangling and you can lean against the wall for support.

Six pauses as he flicks on the light, his blue gaze adjusting to the brightness after a second. He immediately clocks that your wound is leaking fresh blood and that it needs to be closed now.

He leaves you for a second, going back to the bed to grab the medical supplies he had bought before returning to you. Six sets the supplies down on the opposite side of the sink and returns his stormy eyes back to your slumped figure.

"May I touch you? You need patched up," Six asks lowly, his hands hovering on the outside of your legs. You give him a nod, but that's not enough for Six.

"I gotta hear you say it. Once I start, you're gonna wanna hate me," he urges. You try to focus your eyes on him, and you can see the restraint Six is using to hold himself back. He so desperately wants to help you, to fix your torn skin. But he is waiting for your confirmation.

You nodded your head again and whimpered, "Please help me, Six..." At your words, Six's hands gently part your legs at the knee so he can stand between them. His proximity makes your heart race for the umpteenth time today, your breath catching in your throat.

His large hands start to reach for the buckles on your vest, but your fingers reach out and grab his wrist to stop them. Six halts at your movement, his eyes slowly traveling to meet your own.

The agent again sees that look on your face. The fear etched into your features. It cracks at his heart again, and he simply murmurs, "Trust me."

You let go of his wrist and close your eyes in anticipation. Six's digits work efficiently as they unclasp the buckles of your tactical vest, pulling it off and throwing it in the corner of the bathroom.

The black t-shirt you are wearing doesn't help hide the wet patch of blood oozing from your shoulder, and the cause of the wound.

A piece of metal debris an inch or two long is lodged in the meat of your shoulder. Another whimper rips out of your throat as Six finally gets his eyes on what has been causing you so much pain.

He swallows thickly as he turns to his supplies, grabbing a pair of forceps and gauze. Six prompts you, "Hold tight, this is going to hurt." At the end of his words, he grabs the shrapnel with the forceps and pulls it out at what seems to be an agonizing pace.

Your body writhes in pain as he clamps gauze over the wound, fresh blood staining the white material a deep red. Tears well in your eyes and begin streaming down your face, your hands reaching to clutch onto anything to stabilize you.

Your left hand weakly grips the edge of the counter, but your right one finds its place on Six's bicep. Your fingers dig into the large muscle there, holding on for dear life as you go through waves of pain.

"S-Sorry," you sob out as Six holds pressure on your shoulder. He smiles lightly at your sweet apology and he replies easily, "Don't worry about it, darling." His words distract you just enough to form a thought that's not focused on your pain.

I'm not sure if he meant to let the pet name slip out... We aren't in front of Hilda anymore.

Six uses your distracted look as a chance to cut through the material of your shirt with a pair of medical scissors. He only cuts through the left sleeve and a little further past where the wound is to give him access to it.

Once your shirt is out of his way, he readies the needle and suture thread before ripping open a packet of alcohol wipes. The blonde-haired man continues to hold pressure on your shoulder and lets the other hand rub on your thigh just above your knee.

"This is going to sting like a bitch," he reminds as he holds up the alcohol wipe. You nod and preemptively grab a hold of his bicep again, bracing yourself for the biting pain.

Nothing could have prepared you for the utter burn the alcohol wipe sends through your body. It takes everything in you to not scream at the top of your lungs, and your fingers dig so far into Six's arm that you're sure you are ripping his flesh.

Six holds steady, though, and continues to clean your wound as you wriggle and writhe under his touch. He feels terrible inflicting pain on you, but he knows you need these wounds cleaned and closed.

"You're doing great, honey," he vocalizes as he leans over to grab the suture. When he looks up to your face, he's almost taken aback at the intensity there.

Your face is grimy, bloody, and wet. There are tears rolling down your cheeks, mixing and pooling with the dried blood, dripping down your chin. But your eyes? They seem to stare right at the core of him. They see right through his tough exterior, right through all of his training.

They are seeing the gentle touches, the firm embraces. They are seeing the protector he so desperately wants to be. You are seeing Sierra Six as a man, and not just a weapon.

Six's breath catches in his throat at the thought and has to look away from the heat of your gaze. He turns his attention back to your wound and mumbles, "Time to sow this up."

You sit still at his words, waiting for the tug of a needle through your skin. A split second later, you feel the first bite. You clench your jaw down tight, a moan grumbling up from deep in your chest.

Six does his best to work quickly as he pulls the needle and suture through your skin, row after row after row. Eventually, you feel him tie the knot off as exhaustion starts to creep over the edges of your body.

Your body is starting to slump against the wall rather than brace away from it, and your eyes are beginning to burn from crying and from the debris from the carnage. You know you will pass out the second your head lays to rest.

"Stay with me," Six murmurs lowly, "We got a lot more to fix up." Six moves to work on the cut on your arm next, going through the same methodic steps as he did for your shoulder. It still hurts like a bitch, but the exhaustion helps dull it.

Six finishes tying off that suture and then pauses, setting the medical supplies back on the counter. He makes eye contact with you, his gaze softer than expected as he rests his hands on his hips.

"Let me see the back of your head, then you can get a shower and we'll finish packing these wounds, hm?" he poses it as a question, but you know it's a low-threat order.

You take a shaky deep breath and huff out, "Yes sir," jokingly before slowly pushing your way to the edge of the counter. You push off the edge and your feet land on the ground firmly, but your knees wobble and start to buckle.

Six is right there, catching you around your waist with ease. His large hands stabilize you, and are pleasantly warm, as he unknowingly pulls you closer to him.

"Easy there," the words sound out for the second time that day. You are a little dizzy from the sudden movement, and your head falls forward to brush your forehead against his chest.

You feel a wave of embarrassment at how weak you are from being knocked flat on your ass. Since Six turned left down that hallway, you have needed him every second.

"Sorry, I just felt a little lightheaded," you whisper, your voice hoarse from muffling groans. Six rubs one of his hands on your waist reassuringly, "Like I said, don't worry about it. I've been banged up worse than you before, it's not easy."

A comfortable moment passes but then Six pulls back, one hand releasing your waist to brush that stubborn piece of hair out of your eyes. He still has that soft expression on his face when he tells you, "I'm going to look at your head, alright?"

You give him a tight-lipped smile and shuffle 180 degrees so he can look at the back of your head. It's the first time you've seen what you've looked like since being in the car.

You're an absolute mess. Self-depreciating thoughts try to flood your mind, and you will them away with Six standing behind you. He's gently running his fingers along your scalp, looking for the source of the dried blood.

He finds it a second later, and upon closer inspection, he coughs out, "It's just a small nick. Go 'head and get cleaned up and I'll take a look again after. I'll grab you some clothes."

Six takes a slow step back, releasing his hold on you, the touch of his fingers lingering in your mind. He's only gone for a minute, returning with the clean clothes he bought at the small store in town.

You quietly thank him and hastily chuckle, "This is kind of like that time in Dubai." Six's hand comes to land on the door handle, and he pauses for a moment as the memory washes over him. A smile tugs on his lips and he replies lightly, "I gotta say this is probably worse than Dubai."

A moment of silence passes and he throws his head toward the main bedroom area and tuts, "I'll be out here. Take your time, and uh, just let me know if you need any help or anything." At that, Six clicks the door shut, the pink flush returning to his cheeks.

You watch the door close and you pause for a moment, letting the silence swarm over you. It takes a second, but you turn to face the mirror, letting the emotional weight of the day lay on your shoulders.

I should have been better today. I could have been so much better. Because of my inabilities, I almost got killed. I made Six abort a mission for the first time - ever. I am ruining the infamous Sierra Six.

You don't realize silent sobs are wracking your body until you go to pinch your brow and run your hand down your face.

You are such a failure.

The words had crept into your mind before you could stop them, and you push off the counter to try to stop the spiraling train of thought. It lingers in the back of your head, but you try to focus on turning the water to a comfortable temperature.

You unlace your boots, setting them off to the side by your bloodied tactical vest. You manage to strip out of your pants and underwear with minimal difficulty before starting on your shirt.

It's easier to shimmy out of because Six took care of the sleeve you had struggled with before. However, you were trying to not bust the stitches he had worked so diligently on. After a minute or two of shuffling and trying to not hurt yourself, you were finally bare.

Stepping into the shower, you took a deep breath as the water began to rain down on you. You could see the grime and blood start running toward the drain, the water turning a murky greyish-pink color as you started to clean your skin.

Your wounds were sore as they were touched by the water, so you did your best to clean the surrounding blood off with a gentle washcloth. Then, you let yourself stand under the water for a moment. You let the warmth soak into your muscles, into your bones.

You needed that moment. You needed the water to remind you that were human. You needed those wounds to remind you that you were alive.

But you must have been in the bathroom longer than you realized because there are a few knocks on the door and then you hear Six's voice.

"Y/n? You alright in there?" you can hear worry in his voice, and it makes you smile. You realize he can't see you, so you turn off the water and call back, "Yeah, I just need to get dressed."

You don't get a response back, so you assume he heard you and was leaving you to your privacy. You grab one of the towels hanging outside of the shower and dry yourself off carefully, taking care to pat your wounds dry.

Exhaustion is still crawling at the back of your mind, but the shower seemed to rejuvenate some part of you. You make your way over to the clothes Six picked out for you, and you can't help but let a dopey grin onto your lips.

He left you a pair of black sweatpants, in your size, by the way, a clean pair of women's underwear, and then a choice between a light blue women's long sleeve that resembles a crewneck or a men's sized black t-shirt.

You want to put the women's crewneck on. It's one of your favorite colors and the piece looks devastatingly comfortable. But you know you aren't going to be able to get in it yourself and Six won't be able to finish patching you up.

You slide into the large black t-shirt easily, the article definitely chosen with Six's size in mind. You slowly open the door from the bathroom into the bedroom, peering around the room curiously.

Six is nowhere to be seen, and you feel a rush of panic. He's not on the bed. He's not in the chair you said you would take. He's not on the balcony overviewing the street. He's gone.

You start to pace the room, looking for any sign of where he could have gone when you hear the door jingle. A second later, he reappears with two cups in his hands.

You dart at him, wrapping your arms around his torso before you can stop yourself. Six is taken aback by the sudden display of affection, holding both cups away from your body so that neither of you is burned by the seemingly hot liquid.

"I thought you left," you croaked out, your hands fisting at the dirty black t-shirt he was wearing. Six leans back to get a look at your face and his heart further splinters at the look he sees there.

"I was just getting some hot chocolate. You looked like you might need it," he says slowly, setting one of the cups down on a side table and offering one to you, "I'm right here."

You nod shakily as you internally scream at yourself to get it together. You take the warm cup from his hand, your fingers brushing for a moment. You force yourself to move to sit on the end of the bed, mumbling, "I- I'm sorry."

Six frowns at you, tired of hearing those words from your mouth. He takes a couple of steps closer to you as he delicately retaliates, "Look, I already told you, don't worry ab-" "I'm sorry about everything!" you yell out.

The Sierra agent is alarmed by your change in tone, and he remains quiet as you start to talk.

"I'm sorry about rushing you at the door because I thought you were leaving. I'm sorry I have to wear this shirt that's so obviously yours because I can't get in the other one you got me. I'm sorry I was so out of sorts while you were patching me up. I'm sorry I blew the mission today and ruined your reputation," you gush out, fresh tears lining your eyes as the words tumble out.

A whimper falls from your lips as the words blurt from your mouth, "I'm sorry for being such a terrible partner," your free hand coming up to cover your face as you start to cry. Your hand holding the hot chocolate wobbles and you can't keep it together anymore.

Tears of anguish race down your cheeks, your body heaving as your world comes crashing down on you. Six had moved closer to you as you spoke, and now gently pries the drink out of your hands as you weep.

He sets it on the table next to his before kneeling down in front of you on the bed. His lengthy fingers delicately wrap around your wrists, slowly pulling them away from your tear-stained face.

You initially resist him, sputtering out, "D-don't look at me while I'm like this, I look-" "Beautiful," he voices profoundly.

You stop crying for a second to look at him as you repeat, "Beautiful?" Six looks up at you apprehensively, a look of nervousness passing over his angled features. He slowly pulls your wrists down, and this time you let him.

Six shuffles closer to you, now parting your thighs to get closer to you. His right hand comes up to cup your left cheek where the small cut is. He swipes away the tears there, his blue gaze stormy and complex.

His gaze trails over your face, openly and unashamedly looking at you. When he finally makes eye contact with you, he reaffirms with a slight nod, "You look beautiful."

He smiles at you tenderly as he starts, "Seeing you run toward me at the door is something I've dreamed of countless nights." You blink in surprise at the confession, but you don't interrupt him.

"For the record, I think that shirt looks great on you. If you feel more comfortable in the other one, I'll help you get into it," he whispers. You can feel the intensity of his words, and you feel heat creeping toward your face.

"I never, ever, wanted to have to patch you up again after Dubai, because I think a part of me dies seeing you in these volumes of pain. But today, seeing you lying there in the debris, calling for me?" Six takes a deep breath and looks away before muttering, "That is my worst nightmare."

He pauses for a second, letting his words sink in. The blonde-haired man shrugs his shoulders once and continues, "And yeah, you did kind of ruin the mission," and your gaze falters at that, shame covering your features.

But Six is one step ahead of you, tilting your chin back up to meet his blue gaze. "You could have checked that door differently, looked for some other indicator," he states matter-of-factly.

"It was just a door," you mumble, tears threatening to spill again. Six holds you delicately as he says, "It was just a door. It was a door that you never should have been next to. You never should have been a part of that mission in the way that you were."

Hurt flashes rampantly across your face, but before you can reply, Six cuts you off, "You should have been where you work best," and he gives you a smile, "Watching my back and blasting goons from hundreds of yards away."

That comment makes you smile, and Six sighs as he murmurs, "There she is." That comment makes you blush, and you go to wipe at your cheeks before wincing as you agitate the cut there.

Six notices right away and pushes away from you, disappearing into the bathroom for a moment. He returns with the medical supplies and a damp washcloth.

He offers you the washcloth, letting you wipe your face to remove both your wet and dry tears. Six turns to face you with that tender look in his eyes again and he murmurs, "Let's finish getting you patched up."

You nod and heat runs up your body as you ask shyly, "Will you help me get into the other sweatshirt afterward?" Six smirks as he replies with a quip of, "Only if you'll sleep on the bed and not on that god-awful chair."

You let out a playful groan, "Fineee, I guess we have a deal." Six lets the smirk fade into a kind smile at the corner of his mouth, getting to work on putting patches over your shoulder wound and the slice on your arm.

His gentle fingers help place a bandaid on your cheek, leaving him lingering in close proximity. Six can't help the way his eyes flit down to your lips before returning to your (colored) gaze. You were simply intoxicating to him.

He forces himself to pull away with half-lidded eyes and instead says, "Let's get you into that other sweatshirt." You could have whined at the loss of contact with the tall blonde-haired man, but you do as he says, heading to the bathroom where the other shirt lay.

You grab it and walk back out to the bedroom saying, "So if I turn around and pull this shirt off, can you just help guide my arms and head through this one?"

Six just nods like the gentleman he is, turning his back to you as you take off the large and very oversized black shirt meant for him. You feel a wave of self-consciousness as you call over your shoulder, "O-okay. I have my arms through the holes, I just need help lifting it over my head."

Six slowly turns around, letting you know his intentions with every obvious movement he makes. Keeping his eyes fixed on the light blue material, he makes every effort to ignore the curve of your body so close to his as he reaches over your shoulder, pulling the hole in the material toward your head.

He hears you hiss in pain at one particularly awkward angle, but you mumble, "I'm good." Six finishes pulling the shirt down to sit around your waist, delicately pulling your hair trapped on the inside of the shirt out to lay against your neck.

You turn around to face him and offer him the black t-shirt with a shy smile, "I only wore it for those few minutes if you still want it."

Six just huffs at your shyness and he smoothly tugs it out of your hands before throwing it over his shoulder. He motions over to your hot chocolate, "Better drink that before it gets too cold. I'm hopping in the shower."

At the end of his words, he ducks around you, grabbing the remaining clothes off of the bed and slipping into the bathroom. You don't know that he leans against the bathroom door, cursing himself for not being able to just lean in that extra inch...

But it doesn't matter. He needs to get a shower and you need to get rest.

In the bedroom, you find yourself sipping on the hot chocolate you know Hilda must have made. You throw the extra medical supplies back into one of the empty bags and dig through the snacks that Six had gotten.

You find a pack of Skittles and snicker, knowing that the man just on the other side of the door has the biggest sweet tooth, other than you. You rip the packet open and toss a couple in your mouth, thankful for the candy as you place your empty cup of hot chocolate in the trash.

The comfort of the crewneck and sweatpants starts tearing at your exhaustion again, and you find yourself crawling toward the headboard to slide under the covers.

A moment later, Six appears fresh out of the shower. He dons the black T-shirt you gave him back, as well as a pair of loose-fitting grey sweatpants. You swallow thickly as he makes his way over to the uncomfortable-looking chair.

"W-wait," you call out, causing Six to pause and look at you. His blonde locks are dark with water from the shower, and your mind short-circuits for a second with the way he is looking at you. You astutely point to the bed, "We can share," you blurt out.

You curse yourself internally for being so clumsy about the situation. Especially when you see Six frown and start to shake his head, "I don't want to bother y-" "Six, please," you practically beg.

This makes him pause his movements at the desperation in your voice. He looks over at you, waiting in bed for him, and then back to the brown rickety chair.

He sighs in defeat and runs a hand through his damp hair, moving to sit on the edge of the bed near your feet. Six takes a moment to look at you. You're sat up in the middle of the small bed, your back leaning on the pillows as you watch him back. Suddenly, he wonders what position will be the most comfortable for you.

Would it be best if you each took one side and laid on your backs? Do you typically sleep on your side? Would you be weirded out if he accidentally touched you unknowingly while you slept?

You could see Six's mind running a mile a minute, and you grab his hand as you throw his words back in his face, "Trust me."

Six cracks a smile at your words and shuffles to face you. You can't help but fight off a wave of heat that crosses your face as you take a good look at him.

He's basically unscathed, clad in that black t-shirt that clings to every contour of his body. His well-trimmed goatee frames his pretty mouth and those eyes. Those stormy, stormy eyes.

They are staring at you with that undetectable emotion. Six shifts again, moving closer to the headboard and toward you, the air in the room crackling with tension. He stretches his body out over the top of the covers as he positions his body in line with yours.

Propping himself up on his right elbow, he leans over you, cupping your uninjured cheek in his left hand. Slowly but with confidence, he brings your face up to his. Your foreheads touch, and a shiver runs through you at his warmth.

You want to lean forward, to capture his lips for yourself, but you wait. Six is taking the moment in fully. He will only get to experience this once, and he wants it to be engraved in his mind forever.

His stormy gaze pins that undetectable emotion on you with such ferocity that you want to look away, but you don't. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and then he whispers, "May I kiss you?"

You nod and murmur back, "I want nothing more." At your confirmation, Six slowly leans in, still giving you plenty of time to back out.

Instead, you lean forward to meet him, his mouth crashing on yours in a dizzyingly slow and languid kiss. A groan of satisfaction crawls up the back of Six's throat, and his hand moves from cupping your face to sliding into your damp (colored) locks.

Every movement is slow and thought out as his lips dance across your own. Your nose brushes against his in a comforting way, and the tickle of his goatee is surprisingly pleasant.

You could live in this moment forever. Six was pouring every ounce of himself before you, you would gladly drink every last drop of his affection up.

Six slowly pulls away, nuzzling his nose against yours before letting his eyes flutter open. You're not in much better shape than he is, and when you meet his gaze, the two of you know everything has changed.

Six tightens his grip on your hair ever-so-slightly before murmuring with conviction, "I love you, Y/n." A watery smile begins to tug at your lips as you reply, "I love you too, Six."

He gives you that tender smile and leans in one final time, leaving a chaste but sweet kiss on your waiting mouth.

You whine when he pulls away, making the Sierra agent chuckle as he mumbles, "Don't worry, there can be more where that came from later. You need to get some rest, you Skittles stealer."

Your ears burn in slight embarrassment that you were caught, but not for long when Six shuffles to turn the lights off and slide under the covers with you. The large man shuffles onto his right side, gently pushing and pulling your body until he is spooning you.

With his heavy arm locked around your waist, you finally feel comfortable enough to give in to your exhaustion. Before you know it, the two of you are out cold. Maybe a little beaten up, maybe a little lovesick, but definitely content.

Tagging: @proper-goodnight (@bluebellhairpin @xxpadfootxx @anlian-aishang just b/c y'all sat through this brain rot both knowingly and unknowingly)

[wayfayrr]

this is a fic that spiralled between me and @sketchyspook (ending with this and an absolutely breathtaking commission at the bottom so there are no spoilers :3c) where wars is missing reader after the shadow is defeated <3

however this is a very dark angst-centric fic, so warning for suicidal thoughts and actions.

[masterlist]

“it’s done then?”

“It seems so, the portal looks welcoming for once and the others didn’t seem to have any issue with it.”

Now would be the time to say goodbye to Hyrule for good then, and prepare to step into my love’s world. I won’t be alone in getting used to it, and I won’t have to worry about anything in Hyrule again. Just step through with them. You’re already holding their hand.

“Looking forward to seeing Earth for the first time pretty boy?”

“Well, yeah I can’t say that I’m not now can I?”

“Come on then!!!”

They’re already halfway through the portal, why… Why can’t I step through it? No, no, no, let me through, please. 

“Wars, love? You coming?”

“I am - I - I promise I am. I just…”

Why are they getting further from me when I can’t get through, Why- why can’t I get through. No, no It can’t end like this, we promised. They promised I could go with them. So why can’t I? Is this some sick joke from hylia, some cruel unjust punishment for not being canon as [name] mentioned? Do I not deserve a happy ending because of it? Am I just fated to lose them as I 

“Wars, please just step through - You’re hurting me with your grip.”

I don’t even get to say anything before they’re torn away from my side. Torn from me as I’m left standing in this field all alone, without my brothers and without my love, what could I have possibly done to deserve such a fate as this? Condemned to a life of solitude,  going back to nothing. No, there has to be something, someway for me to get to them. I refuse for it to end like this. No matter who or how I have to ask.

Going to Cia or Lana - that - that would be the best place to start, if anyone would know how to cross between worlds then it would be them. They have to know and they owe me a favour too, so I can just cache that in and be with my love for the rest of my life. Instead of rotting away in this hylia-forsaken world where there is nothing. 

><><><><><><

“What do you mean - they don’t exist? Now isn’t the time to be possessive or to mess with me.”

“I’m not lying, they don’t exist. Nothing, I can’t see anything of them.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“If you don’t believe me - ask lana. I am not lying.”

As much as I want to keep pressing, as much as I want to hope that she’s lying, that she’s trying to keep me locked here at her side. 

I know she isn’t. 

She knows that she won’t be given more chances to act like that, that she won’t be forgiven ever again. That I wouldn’t let her live if she tried to keep me from my darling. The simple fact that she would be willing to pull Lana into this, is enough proof that she is telling the plain truth but there still has to be some way to get to earth. I can pray to hylia can’t I? 

“She’s right you know, everywhere we’ve looked there’s no trace of them.”

“Then you can’t have looked ‘everywhere’.”

“You shouldn’t get too caught up on them, there isn’t anything you can do now. Moving on is healthy. They wouldn’t want killing yourself over them.”

This isn’t going to go anywhere, there’s no point in staying here to argue with a wall. That last thing though? Maybe - maybe that wouldn’t be a bad thing. [name], they mentioned that thing called ‘isekai’... it was only fiction in their world but so was hyrule. If hyrule is real, then what are the chances of me ending up in their world if I. If I were to just cut everything short? Anything would be better than living out my time here without them either way. 

“Link? You heard what she said right? You look really out of it.”

Just leave. They don’t have a clue what they’re talking about. Leave before there’s no one left to leave.

“Yeah, yeah I heard. I heard. Thanks for looking anyway though.”

She doesn’t seem convinced that I’m alright, but what does it matter, she can’t stop me. She knows she can’t stop me. 

Shame that doesn’t stop her from grabbing my hand like she thinks that she has any power over me anymore. Seems like she never knows when to back down.

“You know we’re always here to talk don’t you?”

No response would be satisfying to her, so I don’t even bother- she isn’t worth the energy. No one here is. 

“Don’t you dare go through with this plan, you know zelda would never forgive you?”

“Why should I want her forgiveness.”

Finally, that seemed to get through her head, or scared her enough to drop my wrist either way not that I’ll complain her being scared of me should have been a long time coming. 

The only thing left to consider is where and how.

Something quick would be preferable, a sword or a knife to the chest but that’s ugly whatever I end up doing I have to look good, for them. An overdose, maybe that would no there’s too many chances for that to go wrong, I could be found by anyone and taken to a medics before it kicks in which would put a wait on trying again. A fall could do it.

If I chose a place the right height to not be instant I could clean myself up as well as it not being painful for too long. I can - I will make that work. There are plenty of places where I could do it, plenty of places that would be simply beautiful too. And what would everyone make of it, the chosen hero deciding to kill himself? Leaving that mess for zelda to clean up, her having to answer why I would go so far as to do this? That’s simply extra. 

><><><><><><

I’m here. Here at the last sight of Hyrule I’ll ever see. I think I’ve chosen a good place, shallow water at the base of the cliff, rubble piled closer to the face. It’ll be stunning, I can’t say it won’t be bad to mar it with my own blood but… It’ll be more than worth it. 

The only thing left is to steel my nerves and do it.

“ - ou're my baby, say it to me.”

It’s an eerily calming song, one of [name]’s favourites too, one that they always hummed around me and that we listened to together. One that they always said reminded them of me, seems only fitting to go out to it. 

“I bet on losing dogs, ‘know they're losing and I'll pay for my place…”

Deep breath in, deep breath out. 

Just one step, you can do this link, it’s one quick thing. One quick thing then you can be with them. 

“-iors wait!”

Did someone call me by my nickname? No matter, I’m probably just hearing things, I’m too far to back down now though… Seeing as I’m over the ledge.

It - It hurts more than I thought it would, but I can still move if only barely. It’s a few moments I can use to make myself more - more presentable I guess. Just - just have to roll down a little… okay that’s better, my mail is more broken but th-thats fine, I can work with that. Throwing my scarf into a better position is harder than I thought it would be, like my arms can barely move it now. This… this’ll be how I die. I can already feel my heartbeat slowing, my vision blurring and my ears ringing. I wonder how everyone will react to finding me like this, if anyone will even look for me that is.

Is someone standing at the top, or, or is my eyesight going that badly now?

Looks suspiciously like sky…

…too bad I won’t be here to see if it’s really him…

[darlingsfandom]

dd/lg relationship with lenny miller?? 😍

Bless you ✨

The sun was rising high into the kitchen as you sat the dinning table poking at your plate.

"What's the matter Doll?" Lenny sipped on his coffee while flipping the paper before he looked over at you. A soft sigh left your lips. You held your head up and pushed the plate away from you. Lenny raised his eyebrow at you as pouted your bottom lip. He put his paper down on the table as folded his hands before he got up and walked over to you. He stood over you as he pulled out your chair. You stood up slowly as he ran his finger tips over your cheeks.

"Come on darling, you can tell daddy." He gave you a soft smile before you just sighed again. Lenny was use to seeing you happy and spoiled. He loved spoiling you because you had the prettiest smile and always gave him the sweetest kisses that they were almost tooth rooting.

"You..." is all you got out before a tear dared to fall from your eyes.

"I... what baby?"

"You've been gone too long and now you have that blonde girl here and there! She's prettier and smarter ..." Lenny kissed you hard to cut you off. His hands cupped your face before pulling away too look at you lovingly.

"I will not stand for that! You will not stand here and degrade yourself like that in front of me. You know that you're my baby! Anna has nothing on you. She's just someone in CIA care. You my beautiful baby, are smart, kind, caring... I mean look at that charity event you hosted last month! Only you could do that! Are you really that worried that I'd leave you for her? That's so silly of you baby. I'd never leave you." Lenny stroked your hair softly as you sniffled. He wrapped his arms around you tightly before giving another kiss. The kiss turned heated as his hands found their way under your babydoll nightgown that Lenny bought you last week.

Your knees felt week as your lips trailed from his down his neck and made sure to suck a bruise into the side of it. Lenny gripped your ass before pulling down your pink cotton panties and stuffed them into his pocket. Both of you looked at each other full of love and passion as he set you on the edge of the kitchen table, spread your legs and bit his lip while running his thumb over your clit.

"Who's my good girl?" Lenny asked as he rubbed your clit faster .

"Me! I'm your good girl daddy!" You yelled out as he slid a finger inside of you while still thumbing your clit. Your hips started bucking forward. "Daddy, I need you inside of me! Please! Use me! Breed me! Please!"

"Breed you hmm?" He raised his eyebrow before pulling away his fingers and thumb. "Is that what you need hmm? For me to get you pregnant ? Or do you just want me to fill you up with my cum??"

"Both daddy! Please ! I'd look so cute stuffed with your cum!" Lenny pushed you back on the table as he undid his pants. You whined at the sight of how hard his cock was. "Next time baby! Right now I just need to fuck you so you remember that YOU'RE my baby!" Lenny lined himself up and slowly pushed into you. He waited a few seconds before thrusting into you slowly. Your hands wrapped around his tie so you could pull him in by it and kiss him hard which made him crazy. Lenny squeezed your hips making sure to dig his finger prints into you as he fucked you hard. Your whines echoed off the walls just in time for Anna to walk in on you two.

"Lenny are you... OH MY GOD!" Anna stood there frozen as Lenny was balls deep inside of you. You gave her one of those satisfied looks but mixed with a bit of "it looks could kill" .

"Not now Anna! I'm busy fucking a baby into my pretty baby!" Lenny grunted loudly while you clung onto his shoulders. Anna quickly walked right back out as Lenny looked into your eyes. "I told you baby! You're ! MY! GIRL!" Lenny groaned as you felt him cum deep inside of you. Your own orgasm chased after his as you creamed on his cock. He pulled you close and kissed you hard.

"Don't you ever forget that you're my girl and if you EVER compare yourself to another woman again... you will be punished! Got it?" He cocked his eyebrow at you while pulling out slowly to look at the cream ring on his cock. He used your panties to clean himself off before putting them back in his pocket.

"I love you daddy!" You smiled brightly at him as he kissed your head gently. "Now be a good girl while I'm gone today and if you're good I'll buy you a new toy when I get back."

[livelaughlou]

I need a snippet for all pls 🤣❤️

💅📚 and shenanigans

lol, of course, my darling Cia. Previous snippets can be found under 'bookstore AU' and 'nail painting fic' and the shenanigans fic will be, well, 'shenanigans fic' lol.

nail painting fic--which I think I'm tentatively titling 'Life in Color' after the OneRepublic song

"You...like to paint your nails?" Buck asks.

Tommy nods, still looking uncertain. "It's sort of an anxiety thing. When I was younger, I had a terrible habit of biting my fingernails down until they bled. A friend of mine suggested I paint them and...well, it worked. I don't do it too often and obviously, I have to take it off for work. But when my anxiety is really bad and I can, I do."

"When we were together the first time...you never needed to do it then?"

Tommy considers this and then says, "Before that disastrous night, Evan, you were the easiest thing in my life. You made everything better. I just didn't feel the need to. When we broke up, I started doing it again."

Bookstore AU

Tommy smiles and Buck can feel something like butterflies in his stomach.

"Thanks," he says. "What's up with Howie anyway? Usually, he comes by himself."

"He's got a date tonight," Buck says with a little laugh. "With my sister actually, but he didn't want the hold window to be up, so he asked me to come get it."

Tommy looks confused. "That's weird."

Buck frowns. "What is?"

"Oh, it's just...my hold limits are a week. This just became ready yesterday."

Maddie, Tommy and Karen Shenanigans--Kay

This one is a fic for @herrmannhalsteadproduction, for a prompt game we did a little while ago. The prompt Kay sent me actually went really well with an idea that was already floating around in my head. Here's a little snippet.

When he looks back on it, he really does think it all started with that damn letter.

But he now supposes that doesn't matter when Evan is staring at him through the bars, flanked by Hen, Howie, and Athena. Evan looks confused and amused in equal measure, both emotions are warring on his face. Tommy does love his inability to hide what he's feeling at any given time.

"Can someone please explain," Evan says slowly. "Why my husband, friend, and sister are in jail right now?"

[yanderes-galore]

Hello, May I request a Cod Cold War ask? Specifically for Weaver x reader who’s part of the zombies strike team? I can imagine that they’re quick to figure out things (as you need to be for the Easter eggs) yet tough as they need to be? If not, I guess can I request Bell x reader (Bell may be hard to write for since they’re a player created character but I figured you do something cool with it!)

-MsPlacedHero

Ps, Chase loved the cookie I gave to him saying it was from you!

I'll try Bell as I'm a bit more familiar with them! Happy he liked the cookie even if it was a long time ago. Hope you enjoy :) Bell is referred to as They/Them as you did not specify what kind of Bell you wanted.

This is mostly rambling and may be short but it was me giving my view on the character and their potential. I wanted to explore it a bit so there's no real plot.

Yandere! Bell Concept/Overview

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Mentioned self-aware behavior but not focused, General Bell thoughts, Stalking, Brainwashing, General yandere behavior, Character death, Dubious companionship.

Bell can be both interesting yet difficult to write so I will try to keep this rather general.

Bell could be difficult since their character is primarily meant for the player to insert themselves into.

They're meant to be so the player can interact with the story and feel like a part of it.

This would be difficult to try and convey, however, it opens many different possibilities.

Bell would be like a customizable yandere.

In a story you can pick and choose how you'd want Bell to be.

Bell would work even better in a "Self-Aware" story since they'd act as a host for the player and are extremely player dependent.

Your little puppet.

A reflection of you.

Overall Bell could really have any sort of yandere personality traits due to being a blank canvas.

You could see Bell as soft or someone who follows their darling like a puppy.

Maybe you could see them as a worship yandere.

Maybe you could see them as cruel, perhaps even prior to the brainwashing?

As a result, the darling is just as customizable.

You could be a part of the CIA or know Bell prior to the brainwashing.

There's a lot of potential.

The things is, how to write Bell is you'd need to be specific.

That's why I'm mostly just looking over the character.

Honestly my favorite ideas may be the Self-Aware one and Bell with a fellow CIA agent.

The Self-Aware one is self explanatory, I mentioned it before.

But the CIA agent one could also be fun to explore.

You know you shouldn't get attached or involve yourself with Bell.

They've been brainwashed with MK-ULTRA to find out info on Perseus.

That's all, afterwards they may just be tossed away.

For now they just need to be alive until the mission is finished and over.

However, Bell appears to have some sort of adoration for you one way or another.

Maybe somewhere in their memories they seem to recall you being important to them.

It's most likely a fabricated memory to coax more information out of them, but it works.

How Bell deals with such information could vary.

They may follow you around, they may be overly protective/clingy, they could be possessive, they could be any number of things.

They don't understand why you never like being around them.

Truthfully you either don't care or don't want to be attached.

Either way, Bell would want to treat you more than a "comrade".

They either see you as a close friend they "fought alongside" or maybe even a lover.

They have no idea you and Adler just need them for information.

Bell may most likely be "gotten rid of" before they become too much of a problem for you due to their obsession.

If they are a softer and more docile yandere, it feels horrible to know Adler did them in.

If they are rougher and more intense, it may feel like a relief when they're gone.

Player created characters like Bell have potential to be interesting once you have traits decided.

Unfortunately as a result I can't really assign Bell any definitive yandere behavior for them.

They seem like a puppet, a husk, meant to follow orders due to all of the brainwashing.

Regardless... a blank slate character can still have endless potential if you have a plot to work with.

No two Bell stories would be the same, essentially.

Bell is a wild card when it comes to their darling.

Which can mean they're a dangerous yandere if you think about it.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Hi hi! I’d love to know more about Asset Codename: Bricks! Feel free to elaborate on anything you want, I’ve literally been obsessed with this wip since I first read it!

Ah, Bricks! My darling and my delight! Veronica "Bricks" Mason is a CIA asset, specializing in infiltration. Didn't she say her name was Ericka in the WIP Wednesday? Yes! Because I was still working out how I want her to exist in the universe lol.

Have an alternate intro!

CW: Objectification, canon-compliant violence

“Steamin’ Jesus,” Soap mutters, looking down the sight.

The big house on the private island is picture perfect, right out of a vacation guide. Two stories, floor to ceiling windows, and an absolute goddess of a woman lounging by the pool. Soap clocks one guard on the edge of the patio facing out, makes sure there’s no one else, and looks back at her.

Her dark skin glistens in the sun, and her curly hair shines. The tiny bikini she wears barely covers anything, bright pink as it is. He can’t exactly see through her sunglasses, but he gets the impression that her eyes are closed. Which is good, because once they break the tree line, she’ll have a clear view of them.

“Got a fuckin’ civilian,” he reports.

Price makes an exasperated sound. “Civilian?”

“Hen by the pool,” he confirms. “…No weapons.”

“How can you-” Gaz’s voice cuts off as he sucks in a breath. “No, I see her. Goddamn.”

Ghost’s voice rumbles, “Hold until she’s clear.”

Gaz mutters, “Why do the baddies always end up with evil sons of bitches?”

“Money,” Simon and Price answer at once. Price continues, “Nice view, though.”

“Cannae complain about the delay,” Soap says, letting himself take a long moment to admire her breasts. “Wouldnae mind a chance wit’ a bird like her.”

“Doubt you could 'andle ‘er,” Ghost chuckles.

“Away wit ye,” Soap grumbles.

All of them go silent when the woman stretches her arms above her head and sits up to grab her drink from a little table. And then she stands and walks over to the guard. He turns to her when he hears her voice, and walks to meet her at the corner of the house.

Soap will not admit that staring at the way her arse swallows the thong bikini is why he misses what happens next. One moment the woman is sipping her drink and smiling, and the next the man’s silenced gun is in her hand and his body topples into the hedges.

“What the fuck?” Gaz hisses.

And then she places the gun and her drink on the bar by the sliding patio door. She opens it, stands in the doorway with her back to the pool, and holds up a closed fist. She gestures: four fingers to the right, three to the left. Then she steps inside, turns left, and strolls past the floor to ceiling windows until she’s out of sight.

The door is left open.

“Let’s move,” Price growls.

Clearing the house is easy. Ghost and Gaz head right, Soap and Price follow the woman and run into two guards, easily dispatched. They find a third with a neat bullet hole between his eyes, on his back on another small patio.

And then they hear a woman’s shriek of terror.

Heart racing, Soap takes point as they ascend the stairs. In his ear, Ghost confirms that he and Gaz have dispatched four guards and are also making their way up. They clear two empty rooms, then hear a frantic voice.

“I don’t know,” a woman sobs. “I was by the pool, I just wanted another drink! And then I turned the corner and Ivan! Vanya was-! He’s-!” The voice is wracked by sobs.

“Fuck.” And that’s the target’s voice, Tarasovich. He snarls something in Russian, then reverts to English. “We need to get to the car, now.”

“Don’t leave me,” the woman’s voice cries, “Please, oh god what are we going to do?”

“To the car, you stupid woman,” the Russian snaps. “I will have Sasha call the pilot, we need to-”

Ghost and Gaz appear at the other end of the hall as Tarasovich chokes on his next words. There’s a scuffle, and a thud. At Price’s tap on the shoulder, Soap breaches the door, gun raised.

He can’t help but curse as he circles left and Price goes right, guns trained on where the woman has Tarasovich’s in a choke hold from the back. The man is bright red and struggling, but her legs lock his arms to his sides, ankles crossed over his solar plexus as his legs kick wildly.

Soap is dimly aware of Ghost and Gaz filing in, guns trained on the pair as he runs out of air and his struggles slow. His arms twitch, and then his legs kick once, twice. And he slowly goes limp.

“Rope’s in the top drawer on the left,” the woman huffs, not letting go. Price opens a drawer and pulls out a neatly wrapped bundle of thick, soft-looking, braided, red rope. He approaches the woman, and she dumps Tarasovich to the side. She stands and adjusts her bikini as he ties the man’s legs together and his hands behind his back.

When Price stands, she grins. “Hey there, Captain. Fancy meeting you here.”

“Bricks,” Price says, his own grin splitting his face as he pulls her in by her hips. Her arms settle around his neck and she smacks a kiss on his cheek. “Laswell didn’t tell us you were our contact.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” she laughs. “And who can turn down a trip to a private island?”

On the floor, the Russian grunts and starts twitching awake. Bricks steps over him and saunters over to Ghost.

“Hello, handsome,” she purrs.

Soap tries not to let his jaw hang open like a muppet. If he didn’t know better, he’d say Ghost sounds affectionate when he answers. “’ave fun skippin’ around in the buff, then?”

“You like it?” She turns in a little circle, wiggles her ass at him. “I know you prefer orange, but it felt like a pink kind of day.”

“Like your arse in and out of anythin’, lovie,” Ghost rumbles, pulling her close with one arm and lifting his mask up over his nose. “Give us a kiss.”

Soap looks to Gaz for confirmation that this is really happening. The other man looks just as floored as their lieutenant and this Bricks woman share the kind of kiss that reminds him of just how almost naked she is. Soap clears his throat and turns away.

[witchersmistress]

Rescuing Ann

Hello my beautiful darlings! I've been slacking and letting Ann and August fight amongst themselves. But I got them to work together. I'm not 100% certain how I feel about this so don't be surprised if I

Trigger Warnings: blood, violence, assault, smart ass remarks, chasing, fighting, stolen movie quotes clearly labeled

Word count: 2K

August”s POV

The broken glass crunched under my feet as I walked back into the building. My phone started to vibrate, pulling it out of my pocket and I answered it quickly “ Yes?” “ Sir, we have confirmation that Julian is going to be attacked today, by a group of men called the De Santis brothers. My blood ran cold. Charles, Brandon and Levi. They were absolutely ruthless men, who played twisted games in order to compete with their father.

“Sir, are you still there?” my second in command, Jace asked me. Releasing the breath I was holding “ Yes I'm still here, get a team ready, I'm going after her.” disconnecting from the call, I left the party and climbed into the black sedan that was waiting for me. Shooting a text off to an old number that I prayed was still active, hoping I wasn't too late to save her.

Ann’s pov

His chilling threat still clung to my skin, “You will pay for making me look stupid” he was on his third glass of whiskey as the driver pulled into a long driveway. Taking in a deep breath as i observed the house, it looked warm and inviting but the man who lived here was anything but, i know i was expected to go home with him but i’ll be damned if that fool thinks that he will be able to touch me, i’ll die before i let that happen. Stepping out the car I followed Julian inside, the front door locking behind me and trapping me inside. “Second bedroom on the right, go upstairs now” he spat at me as he made his way towards his  liquor cabinet. Taking off my heels I jogged up the stairs and into that bedroom shutting behind me. Leaning my head back I took in a few deep breaths before peeling myself off the door and out of this damn dress. Sliding my arms out of the straps, I began to tug the dress over my head. I'll be damned if I ask Julian to help me. Tossing the dress to the floor in a mess of cabernet tulle, I moved over to the full length mirror and stared at my reflection. My strappy lingerie clung to my curves, dark hair falling down my back, I looked and felt like a Goddess and the only man that I wanted worshiping at my altar was August. I wonder if I hold as much power over him as he does me. I let my glance linger for a few moments longer, before stripping out of those and climbing into a hot shower.

In comfy black pjs I was about to settle into bed for the evening when the door flung open to reveal Julian, standing my ground I waited for him to say something. “ You embarrassed me tonight, you know that, by letting the Walker hold on to you like a little lost puppy. It's pathetic really, but do you know how that made me look, that my wife-to-be  is a wanton whore for an American CIA agent?!?!” he is practically foaming at the mouth. “I’d rather be his whore than your wife” Did i just quote the Titanic at him yes i did. I turned around to walk away from him, but he reached out and grabbed my still damp hair and pulled me back to him. Scream and clawing at the hand that held my hair, he spoke is a dark tone “ If you want to act like a whore that is how i am going to treat you do you understand me” the hand that was holding my hair lowered, i turned my head and bit him like a rabid dog “ You fucking bitch”  he snarled as  punched me in the gut and i stumbled back into the frame of the canopy bed, landing against it with a heavy and my head with a sickening crack. My vision was fuzzy for a few moments but I got my bearings and stood on shaky legs, ready to face him.

“ I could do this all day” I taunted him, yes I quoted Captain America, leave me alone. Wrapping a hand towel around the bite on his hand, he just smirked. “ You think you're funny?” I cocked my head “ I think I’m adorable”  he sneered and lunged at me, skirting around him so he crashed into the bed, I tripped and landed on my ass, such a clumsy thing. This felt like a sick and twisted game of cat and mouse, but I'd be dead if this kitty cat caught me. Staggering into the hallway, I braced myself as Julian came charging out, and grabbed my waist. I whipped my head back crashing straight into his nose with a satisfying crunch and it began to gush like a fountain. With a sharp jab to his gut he stumbled back and towards the stairs, he grabbed my shirt and pulled me with him as we went down the stairs. Breathing hurt, moving hurt, everything fucking hurts. Shoving Julian off me, I struggled to my feet. When the patio doors burst open and three men dressed in black and came charging in with guns pointed. Julian sprung up from the floor and wrapped an arm around my throat “ Who the fuck are you?” he hissed at the men.

One of them laughed like an absolute lunatic. “ Wow I knew you were dumb but I didn't expect you to be that stupid. We are here for you dumbass” one of the other goonies moved at the speed of lightning and rushed at him. He threw me to the side to protect himself, stumbling on my feet. I bolted for the patio door when I was snatched by the third goon. “Easy poppet, we wouldn't want to hurt you know would we?” he sneered, his breath reeking of whiskey and cigarettes. I audibly gag as he continues to breathe on me as he secured my hands behind my back with zip ties.i could feel them biting into my skin, the big goon laughed as i attempted to rub my wrist together to relieve the pain “ What's wrong? Cant handle a little bondage?” he wiggled his eyebrows at me, disgusting pig. I spit in his face and he was pissed, he punched me in the stomach with full force, doubling over in pain he grabbed my head and slammed it off the counter. Fuck now i really was seeing stars, i could feel warm liquid pouring down my face  “ Charles” one of the shadows snapped “ Leave her be, she has no part of this” i laughed out loud, i clearly was losing my mind as Charles pushed me into a chair “ Charles, you fucking name is Charles? Jesus, you must have been such a mama’s boy eh Charlie boy” i cackled and threw my head back with laughter. If I was going to die tonight might as well have the last laugh. Charles was seething “ You better watch your fucking mouth or i’ll make you sorry you ever opened it” he walked towards, his keeper and Julian. One day I am going to learn to shut my goddamn mouth but today is not the day.

Snorting loudly as my vision became blurry and my head began to spin. “ With an attitude like that, you must have to tie up all your girls to get attention. Even then you probably have a hard time satisfying them with that tic tac in your pants you call a penis. Oh sweet baby jesus, i did it, his control snapped “ Charles no” julians goon screamed as he spun around and came right for me, tackling me to the ground, my head met the ground with a snap and the chair broke under our combined weight as he reared back and clocked me in the face, spitting the blood at him, i smiled as my eyes crossed. Well I clearly was on death’s door as I heard more voices and I vaguely saw the blue eyes of my savior, August. He grabbed my face and talked to me. “Ann dont you dare, keep your eyes open. Look at me” he growled, I forced my eyes open for the last time. I smiled at him as blood dripped from my mouth “ Déjame ir” Let me go. Uttering my last goodbye as he drifted further and further away from my vision, his voice blending in with the white noise in my head, I closed my eyes for the last time. 

Unknown POV

He called me and made me promise that she wouldn't get hurt. I was a fool to make a promise. I thought I could keep her safe. I raced back into the formal dining room but I was too late. Charles had her laid out flat on the floor and he was beating her. I whistled at my other guy who dropped Julian’s unconscious ass like a sack of potatoes and raced over to help me pull Charles off of her. “ Charles no, we need her alive” he was foaming at the mouth and he was struggling to get out of our hold. He was so desperate to get to her, to finish what we started as she was on her side choking on blood. Charles grunted and went limp in our arms, I looked over my shoulder and saw him. The person who begged me to protect her, someone I was equal parts terrified and proud to call my brother, August Walker. He ran to her and tried to get her to stay awake, but as she slipped away into the night, he looked back at me, his eyes full of murder. I may have been his brother but I was most certain that I wasn't going to survive the night.

August’s pov

pushing passed Levi and Brandon, knowing I'd deal with them later, I scooped you into my arms and took off.

*a few hours later*

Pretty sure I've worn a groove into the floor waiting to hear from the surgeon. They rushed you into immediate surgery upon our arrival and that was several hours ago. Sitting down, I hung my head. Already tormenting myself if you didn't make it. “Hey” a voice started me, looking up to see Levi holding out a cup of coffee to me. I smiled softly and took it from him. He sat besides, bouncing his leg impatiently. “August,” he began but I cut him off. “Don't,” I said, “ I will deal with him accordingly.” He nodded as he looked down at his cup of coffee.

“Mr. Walker?” A petite nurse called. Standing up I walked over to her. “ They just finished up the surgery, if you would follow me” I glanced back at Levi and he nodded as I walked with the nurse. She pointed to your room, and I thanked her. I expected to walk in and see you awake and talking but you weren't. You were still hooked up to machines. A tube was breathing for you. I wanted to scream, I wanted to rage. The surgeon rambled on about what they did and your prospective recovery. Walking over and grabbing your hand. Your hand was warm in mine, I squeezed it but there was no response. “ How long until she wakes up?” I asked him as I watched that machine breathe for you.

Clearing his throat “ I’m sorry Mr. Walker” he started i stared daggers at him waiting for him to continue “ She went through a long surgery and we almost lost her. Her brain has severely swollen so we placed her in a medically induced coma to help heal her brain '' I don't know if there was a disconnect in my brain but I wasn't clearly understanding. Levi stood in the doorway with a heavy sigh he just looked at you “ In plain terms Doc” he muttered and the dr turned towards him and nodded “ Mr. Walker, i'm not sure if she will ever wake up” my knees buckled from the weight, she may never wake up..