Heaven Is In A Shortcake {i}
breakfast, lunch, or dinner is served! *cue party horn*
(see author's notes far below)
disclaimer: pictures are not mine. BUT THE EDITED VERSION OF IT IS. still, credits to the rightful owners and to canva + weheartit.
Six x Fem!Reader / Courtland Gentry x Fem!Reader
Summary & CHAPTER SELECTION is in the ✨Masterlist✨ [link for next chapter is posted below]
words: 4.9k reader bio: 33y/o. waitress at a Cafe. bartender at a resto-bar. (N/N) = nickname
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You internally scream before you give a nod and bend down toward him. He carefully raises the fork, and you take it in your mouth. You look at him, the 12-inch proximity lets you study his icy blue eyes beneath the shadow of his cap, and you resist the urge to shudder from the intensity of his gaze boring into yours. You pull back, and he gently extracts the fork.
There's a smidge of icing on your lips, it feels cool, like an oasis amidst the burning desert that is your face. You lick your lips, scattering the cream throughout your tongue, and you swallow. He inspects your lips, blue eyes becoming fiercer—
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"What are we having?"
"Take-out."
Claire drops back down to her bed with a mighty groan of discontent. "Ugh! Not McDonald's again."
"It's actually Jollibee." Court says like it's a prize he won from the fair, holding up the paper bag decorated with a red, smiling bee.
"I think you're sabotaging this cordial bee." Claire cranes her head up to frown at her, well, father-figure.
He stifles a grin. "What?"
She flips over to her stomach and smothers her face in the blankets. "You're making me eat a lot of Jollibee so that I'll get sick of it and you'll buy some McDonald's for our Friday Night take-outs instead!" she yells, loud enough for her muffled voice to be audible.
His grin tweaks down. "Again, what?"
"You're getting me delirious." Claire abruptly sits up, pointing at him with a glare.
"You're getting yourself delirious." Court points back at her.
"I know I'm not the kind of kid who can always play under the sun. But I can't stay here forever!" she cries, and soon realizes her words and the tone she coated them in. She shakes her head apologetically, keeps her gaze on the bed sheets, and slowly falls back on the bed. "We can't.. stay in here forever."
Claire can't help it— that innate feeling of being shackled despite travelling through five countries in the span of two weeks. That's how long she and the former shadow operative were on the run, he then found places around the archipelago. She was still calling him Six until he asked her to choose where they would stay among the selected countries in Southeast Asia. He also asked her to call him by his real name.
"Court? As in courthouse?"
"Well, yeah.. but it's particularly short for Courtland."
"Courtland Gentry," she says testily. Making a face, she laughs. "It's weird! I think I'll keep calling you Six."
He sighs. "Fine… But don't call me that in public."
"What say you and I take a drive around the city?"
Claire snaps out of her stupor. "What say you, what now?"
"Let's eat outside," says Court, sitting on the edge of her bed.
"Really?!" she exclaims with gleaming eyes.
"Yeah, we'll drive around, check out the other restaurants.. or you can find some on the phone I gave you."
"I wanna go to a cafe! That serves local cuisines!"
"That settles it, then."
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When they're both buckled up in the car, Court offers the aux cord, but Claire suddenly clasps his hand in both of hers. He's dumbfounded by the gesture, and as he opens his mouth to speak, she swiftly cuts him off—
"I'm so sorry for my behavior earlier!"
"What?" he asks with a half-laugh.
"I'm sorry," she lets him go. "I know how hard our situation is— I've understood it."
Court keeps his lips in a tight line, yet the fiery waves in his eyes are unmistakable. He has travelled with precious cargo during the 18 years of being a Sierra. Took a kidnapped president back to his home country; saved imprisoned soldiers in North Korea; and even returned a diplomat's children from a ransom kidnapping. But Claire isn't someone he needs to be safely delivered to prevent a genocidal bombing.
She's his only family. Blood or not. And he owed it to Donald to take care of Claire. It immensely worries him how she'll have to grow up— on the run, always skipping town, never settling down. She will make friends only to leave them in the next hour without a goodbye. Court doesn't want that kind of life for any fourteen-year-old girl, especially Claire Fitzroy.
Dani is probably doing a lot right now to keep Suzanne and Carmicheal off their scent. Their last contact with her was before he and Claire agreed on the Philippines; even she doesn't know where they are right now. But if Carmicheal wants to keep their end of the bargain, they would leave him and Claire alone— for good. Until they die from old age.
"I just.. need a bit more time to adjust." says Claire.
Court nods. "I know.."
She takes the aux cord and reclines on her seat. "You did say we could be here for a while." Claire mentions, trying not to smile too hopefully at him.
He shortly clenches the wheel in his hands, looking away and past the windshield, he eyes the insects hovering in the car's light beams. Like dancers trying to steal the spotlight on auditions. Court turns to Claire, matching her not-too-hopeful smile, and ruffles her head. "I hope so," he says with much sincerity. "About time we get a vacation."
Claire suppresses a grin, plugging the aux in her phone, she moves to plug the other end on the stereo— Court blocks her attempt without warning. She's surprised, but manages to focus when she sees his other fist heading for her. Using the aux cord, she wraps it around his wrist, reels it down, and jabs at his face.
Court catches her fist in time, peering at her with a grin. "You've gotten good," he remarks approvingly.
She proudly huffs. "I have to."
"I didn't surprise you too much?"
"I thought you said I should be prepared for surprises."
"And what'd your pacemaker say about that?"
"She's not as angry as she was the first time we had these surprise sparring."
The drive to the Freeport Zone didn't take the usual half hour. As much as Claire wants to oversee the places they'll pass, she's too hungry to be in awe of the nocturnal aesthetics. Court is aware of that and drives as fast as he safely can. It was already 7:30 PM when they left the subdivision, they had a hard time convincing the subdivision guards to take their Jollibee takeout. The guards felt ashamed to be taking free food, they thanked them relentlessly as Court drove the car out.
Claire stops watching the city lights as they near. Glancing down at her phone, she checks the time— 7:50— and scrutinizes the map on the screen. "After we pass the bridge, take the second left."
"Copy that," Court nods.
"I think Uncle Don would've liked to get buried there." Claire chuckles, trying to peer at the mountainous cemetery. "I've never seen such an elevated memorial park."
Court glances, the burial ground is dark yet glittered with dots of fluorescent illumination, and he can see a few candlelights flickering amidst the blackness. "I agree. The view must be nice, huh?" he says, facing ahead.
"Yeah... I'm glad we visited him before we left."
It was the first thing they did after being reunited. Telling Donald that it'll be a while before they could visit him again.. promising to take care of each other.
As they pass the bridge, Claire uses her instant camera to photograph the water shimmering from the moonlight. Court carefully veers into the second left turn, letting Claire instruct him as he drives, and she watches their icon on the map as they near the Subic Bay Boardwalk.
"Left," she says. "And drive slowly."
Court flicks on the blinker, takes a gander, and makes the left. He turns off the blinker and gently cruises through the street, noting the restaurant at the right and the hotel at the left.
"Over there." Claire points at a cafe next to the hotel.
Court glances at the post that points to its cafe— Flour Cake De Liz.
"Witty," he snorts.
"I think that's the parking lot."
He drives the car up the ramp and parks in one of the vacant spaces. Only a white SUV and a moped are in the parking lot, but the cafe seems quiet. The sound of pebbles and sand against heavy moving rubber ceases, Court pulls on the parking brake and cautiously looks around. A few people are pacing through the sidewalks, the restaurant across the street is lively, and there's faint laughter resounding from the beach.
"What's the matter?" Claire asks, unlatching her seatbelt.
"Stay here, I'll just scout the area."
"Seriously?"
Court secures the gun in the holster of his jacket, looking at Claire straight in the eye. "I'm sorry. Take the wheel and keep the doors locked." he climbs out of the car, "I'll be back, Claire."
She pouts. "You better. Or else I'll run you over."
"I'll keep that in mind," he grins, adjusting his cap, he closes the door and heads for the cafe.
He increases his pace when he hears Claire locking the door. For every three steps, he warily glances. Still the same scenery, nothing out of the ordinary.
Just how covert operations like it.
That's why it's hard for Court to shake off the apprehension crawling up his ass. It's very uncomfortable.
Court grips on the gun as he shoulders the door open. A chime signals his entrance, the sound is as sweet as the fragrance in the air, yet there's a tinge of spiciness about.
"Welcome to Flour Cake De Liz!" the guy behind the cashier exclaims. He quickly looks around the place and his face contorts angrily. "Hoy, (N/N)! May customers tayo!"
{Hey, N/N! We have customers!}
He's yelling at a waitress, who's sprawled across the booth by the window.
"Teka, patapos na!" you loudly reply, fingers and thumbs rapidly tapping and moving against the screen of your phone.
{Wait, almost finished!}
The cashier guy huffs and then smiles brightly at Court. "Please, have a seat anywhere, sir." he says, brows twitching from suppressed anger.
"Sure.. I'll just get my daughter." Court steps out and overhears the workers.
"Ano daw sabi niya?" the cashier guy whisper-yells at the waitress.
"Kunin niya lang daw anak niya."
Court takes his hand out of his jacket and gestures at Claire to wait for him. She nods and takes a gander, opening the door when he's a foot away. "Well?" she heaves a brow.
"We're good." he nods.
Claire grins, hastily turning off the car, she gathers her stuff before securing the handbrake. She then hops out and hands him the keys. "Are there other customers?" she asks curiously, fixing the beanie on her head.
He locks the car. "No, it'll be just us."
"I'm kinda relieved about that."
When they reach the door, the waitress opens it for them. With you standing up and not on your back anymore, Court mentally notes that your height reaches the bottom of his earlobes, but remove the pumped up kicks, you're lower than his collarbones.
"Maligayang pagdating— welcome to Flour Cake De Liz! Do come in and sit anywhere you like," you flash your most brightest and charming grin.
It's an effective hit to the teenager.
"Salamat po!" Clare grins back as they walk past you.
You exclaim, shocked-and-awed. "Oh! Marunong ka mag-Tagalog?"
You can speak Tagalog?
She sheepishly laughs. "Kaunti lang po."
Just a bit.
"Still, that's impressive!" you let the door shut behind you, swiftly striding past the customers, you stop by the refill station to hook a tumbler to your wrist and grab two glasses.
The customers have taken a booth near the counter. You head towards them and expertly deposit the glasses to each, popping open the tumbler, you fill the glasses with ice-cold water. "If you're ready to order, line up at the counter over there! Muro-muro will assist you. Don't worry, with fresh glasses of water on your table, any other customers who are willing to venture into our domain will know that your booth is not single, but taken! Sanaol!"
Claire laughs lightly. "What's that word you just said? I think I've been hearing that around SMS."
You close the tumbler, place it on the table, and clear your throat. "Sana all is an expression of comic envy. The Tagalog word 'sana' can either mean wish, desire, or hope." you say in a genius-like tone, which soon diminishes as you continue. "The phrase is practically a shorter way of saying, I hope this or that happens to me too! It's like you're jealous in a good way. You want whatever fortune that was bestowed to someone to also be bestowed to you."
"I didn't know jealousy can be good and funny." says Claire.
"Or poetic," Court chimes in.
You shrug. "For me, jealousy is an emotion that makes us perceive the significance of others, as well as our own. Think about it, when you're jealous of someone, you see what they have and what you don't. It's not really a bad emotion if you don't make it bad. But it typically tends to leave anyone upset, so I can't say it's a completely good emotion."
"You make it sound like it is, though," Court chuckles, "And by the way, your English is excellent."
"I hope so! I've been practicing for three decades," you wink and glance over to the counter. "I have to see if our chef needs any help preparing. See you two at the counter!"
Court and Claire watch as you glide away, it's as though your rubber shoes have wheels beneath them. He scrutinizes you from head to toe; you're in a dark brown collared shirt, denim shorts, and thigh-high Star Wars printed socks. Your hair is pulled back into a dutch braid that looks like it was newly tied.
"Shall we order?" Clair asks, turning back to catch Court eyeing you.
He nods. "Sure," and rises up, reluctant to see the grin on the teenager's face, he makes a beeline for the counter.
Court gazes up at the menu as Claire stands next to him. Adobo sounds nice. He's only tasted it once, but the sweet peppery flavor is exhumed into the back of his throat like he's been eating the meal every day. He glances down at the pastry bar in front of them, feeling his mouth water with famished anticipation.
"You like her." Claire whispers, elbowing his side.
He sighs. "It's not like that."
Claire is unconvinced. "Uh-huh.."
"Been a while since somebody was actually nice to us, okay? She's just," Court shortly finds the words, "like a breath of fresh air."
"I concur." Claire nods approvingly.
"Hi!" the cashier guy waves at them, "You can order over here."
"Have you decided on anything?" Court asks Claire as they near the cashier.
She hums and meets the eyes of the cashier. "What would you recommend for dinner?" she inquires him with a smile.
Court eyes the cashier's nametag and wonders if he's new or just easily feels nervous around foreign customers. "Um, recommend..?" Muro glances over to the menu, "Oh! Best meal voted by customers is our Pork Sinigang."
"But we only serve that during lunch," you quickly add as you exit the kitchen.
Muro stammers. "Ah, yes, sorry! Sinigang is only for lunch. But best dinner meal is our Chicken Hamonado."
"What's that?" Claire asks.
"It's chicken in pineapple and cheese soup."
"I'd love to try that!"
"Hold on," says Court. "How much cheese does this meal have?"
Muro blinks puzzledly, glancing at his co-worker, and you pat him on the shoulder, stepping up beside him. "Just enough for the pineapple not to overpower the flavor," you brightly reply.
"My daughter has a heart condition, so I need to know if it's too much cheese or not."
Your eyes widen, glimpsing at Claire, who is astonished that you're more shocked than sympathetic. "Oh... Okay, how about this," you pause to click on a pen and scribble on your inner wrist. "I'll have Mindy, our chef, make two Hamonado— one with the normal cheese and another with much less. Considering if she still wants to try it."
"I want it!" she says, looking at Court with pleading eyes.
"And we'll switch the white rice for brown rice. I read online that it's much better for the heart," you proclaim with sincere certainty, smiling at the father-daughter duo.
Court glances from Claire to you, he's outnumbered, and quietly sighs as he takes out his wallet. "There's a 5-peso add-on for the brown rice, right?" he asks, nodding towards the menu.
Claire fist-pumps triumphantly. "Yes!"
"The beauty of Flour Cake De Liz is not its vintage walls or delicious meals and pastries," you pause to grin, "but its policy of free add-ons for first-time customers!"
"Are you sure you're not the beauty of this cafe?" Claire asks innocently yet suave-like.
You laugh. "If you stay here longer, I probably will not be."
After ordering, Claire and Court return to their table. "Please tell me this is where we'll be eating every Friday night!" she whispers, clapping her hands together.
"If the food is as good as the service, why not?" Court shrugs, fishing out a packet of gum.
Claire pulls a face at him. "Are you serious?"
"What, do they also have a no-gum policy?" he looks around as he unwraps a piece and fastly slips it in his mouth.
"No, but we're about to eat."
"She said the food will take up to twenty minutes."
"You could've taken the free potato mojos."
"And watch your puppy dog face as you ask me to give you more than three?"
Claire flushes. "I have self-control!"
"Not on Friday nights," Court shakes his head with a lopsided grin. He hears your footfalls nearing their booth, watching you in his peripheral vision, he keeps a hand on the table while the other in his pocket.
Claire furtively boots his shin, she knows that his left jeans-pocket contains a switchblade. Not just his gum packet. She knows and understands how to be vigilant, but she can't consistently be on her guard, especially if she's encountering someone as breezy as you. Court internally admits that it's hard to read any ill-intent from you, and letting down his barbed-wire fences around you seems right. It really has been a while since someone is genuine to them.
But to confront you with your unpredictability builds a lot more anxiety in Court's chest than facing down twenty armed-mercenaries.
"While you're waiting, you can check out the bookshelves over there," you point to the adjacent wall, "There's also some board games. But if those are not up your alley, I can just turn on the t.v."
"Let's play some games!" Claire exclaims, grinning at you and Court before she flies out of the booth and jogs across the room.
You chuckle as you watch Claire. "She's pretty enthusiastic."
"Oh, that's not even half of her enthusiasm." Court remarks, eyeing you until you face him, by then you think he's only been looking at Claire.
"Would you like to watch some television?" you ask politely.
"No," he shortly smiles, glancing at your nametag, even though he already knew what's on it. "No, thanks, (N/N)."
"Okay.. I'll play some music then." you sheepishly incline your head sideways, "Unless you mind."
"Not at all."
By the time music is playing over the speakers, Claire finally comes back with two kinds of UNO. Court recognizes the song and resists the urge to react, but his foot betrays him, it taps along with the beat.
♪See the lights of a neighbor's house
Now she's starting to rise
Take a minute to concentrate
And she opens her eyes♪
♪The world was moving, she was right there with it and she was
The world was moving, she was floating above it and she was♪
"Have you played this one?" Claire asks, holding up the violet UNO.
"UNO Flip?" Court reads the box, brows furrowing, he shakes his head. "No.. but we did play UNO once."
She smiles. "Yeah, we did. I can't believe you remembered."
"Of course." he huffs matter-of-factly.
"Good choice!" you step up to their table, glancing at your wristwatch. "Mindy, wants me to tell you that the food can be ready in ten minutes or so. I just helped her with the brown rice. She's now working on the Hamonado with less cheese, because fortunately the normal Hamonado has been prepared and only needed reheating."
"Thanks for the update." says Court. "And that's a nice first song selection."
You give a dramatic curtsy. "Why, thank you, kind sir." you laugh and straighten up, "If you need me, I'll be in the kitchen, just holler."
"Wait!" says Claire.
"Yes?" you stop and turn back to her.
"Can you teach us how to play this?"
This time, Court is the one kicking (as lightly as he can) on Claire's shins.
"UNO Flip? It's quite easy," you glance at Court and squat down beside Claire. "Here, get the cards out. It's just the same as normal UNO, but there's a light side and a dark side. Let's start with what's new on the light side..."
After explaining the mechanics, you're about to leave the father-daughter duo to let them play when the daughter asks something that freezes you and her father.
"Are you single?"
You stammer. "Pardon?"
"Claire.." Court says chidingly, jaw clenching when he realizes he slipped.
"Sorry, wrong question." the teenager laughs, "What I meant was.. wanna play with us?"
Court breathes out a laugh. "I'm sorry. Like you said, she's enthusiastic. You don't have to do it if you're busy."
Claire pouts at him, and he gives her the stink eye. You're surprised when she turns her pouting face to you. The demeanor pierces through your resolve and weakens your knees— you rather hope it was arthritis.
"I'll get mad at you if you don't play." Claire declares with a half-frown and half-pout.
You look between the father-daughter, unable to decide quickly which side you're on. It reminds you of those decision-based games with quick time events. Do you select either one of the choices or let the timer run out and do nothing at all? Do you press this button to escape a probable deadly circumstance? Or you don't press the button and see if the consequences aren't as deadly as they seem?
"Alright, well, get mad.. you strange, enthusiastic, little girl. Because I don't know you, and you don't know me." you say sternly, "So, stop that puppy-eyed look or I'm gonna go and ask the chef if she needs help— because if she doesn't, I'll play and crush you in UNO Flip!"
The pair are stunned as you storm off and noisily enter the kitchen, yelling at the chef for permission. They still haven't recovered by the time you march back to them. You have an infuriated look that is swiftly replaced by a face that practically beams out rainbows. "I can play two rounds!" you exclaim like you've won the Nobel prize.
"Yay!" Claire gleefully cries.
"Oy vey," Court sighs in defeat, but truthfully, he's relieved you're joining them. It's been hard to keep Claire and himself safe with no one else to rely on. And it's much harder to raise a kid on his own.
He's trying. He wants to believe that he's trying and working hard to raise and protect Claire. That's why he can't let his guard down too much, no matter how seemingly easy it is to get along with you. No matter how kind you are— or, at least, you act to be. Evidently, Court hasn't been around good people a lot, and the bad people he's been around with have dropped dead at the end of his gun.
That's why Court knows how to read people. To understand them is a different story. And he has decided, for now, that you're one of the good ones. Although, sometimes, evil resides far beneath the surface; but he doesn't have the luxury nor does he want to deeply evaluate you or any other good person whether you're truly good or just acting like it.
But right now, Claire looks happier since the last month and a half they've been together. Court doesn't want her to feel otherwise. So if it means letting a strange woman take care of her temporarily, then so be it.
After one round of UNO Flip, their food is ready. This version of UNO is played longer than the original due to the constant flipping from the dark to light side. Claire won, you're second, and Court lost. At first, you thought he's going easy on you; but after a while, you've concluded that he is just bad at UNO.
"Beginner's bad luck," he says.
"You just need practice." you reply in a consoling yet derisive way.
With the help of Muro (his actual name is Romeo, which he hates), you serve the father-daughter duo their meals and whisk away to help clean in the kitchen. Mindy questions you about the customers, and there's nothing much to say except that they're both charming, especially the girl. You mention about her condition, to which Mindy sympathizes.
Maybe that's why she's excited to socialize with other people. Her dad doesn't appear to be bad, he's probably rather strict because of her ailment. But it's suspicious of him to continue wearing his cap indoors, even while eating. You decide he has hair issues and end your train of thoughts there, intently listening to Mindy's relationship problems while trying not to be disheartened by your own non-existent love life.
Once the father-daughter duo are almost done, Muro briefly enters the kitchen to inform you and takes a bowl of mojos.
"Don't forget to ask them for deserts!" Mindy reminds you.
"Like I don't always ask that!" you playfully shoot back and walk out of the swinging doors.
"The normal Hamonado is better, (N/N)." the girl declares, distastefully regarding the less-cheesed version of the dish.
You laugh. "I couldn't agree more," and exchange polite smiles with the girl's father.
"The brown rice is also cooked very well. But I think this is the best meal we've eaten for the month." he comments.
"I'll make sure to pass your compliments to the chef," you say with a bow. "Would you two like some deserts?"
"Sure," he answers before his daughter can make another puppy-eyed face.
"Really?" she gasps.
He nods, stifling a smile, and looks at you. "Do you have anything to recommend?" he asks, glimpsing at the pastry bar.
"We have our particularly famous carrot cake—"
"Bleugh," the girl expresses and chortles.
"I know," you whisper empathetically and clear your throat. "The red velvet and blueberry cheesecake, and cassava cake are our best sellers. But the most sold desert this week is our strawberry shortcake, it's my favorite by far—"
"She's only recommending that because she's the one who made it!" Mindy shouts from the counter.
"But it is the most sold cake this week!" you retort, too defensively.
"Can we try that?" the girl asks her father with starry eyes.
He suddenly narrows his gaze on you, and for some reason, you feel as though you've done something wrong. You nervously hold his cold eyes as he scrutinizes yours for something. It takes all your might not to look away or close your eyes, something in your gut tells you, like it always does, to keep facing challenges head-on. But this feels more like an invasion of privacy.
Like everyone says, the eyes are the windows to the soul. But this man's eyes are curtained heavily. Everybody is hiding something, yet for him, it's as though it's better nobody knows what he's hiding. Like it's better off if nobody knows whatever secret he has, for their own safety.
"We'll take two slices of the strawberry shortcake."
You snap out of your daze. "Oh, okay!" and manage a smile, "That'll be 240 pesos. Extra condiments, like whipped cream and strawberries, are free for first-time customers if you'd like—"
"Extra whipped cream and strawberries, please!" Claire raises her hand.
"We only offer two condiments for free. But there's also chocolate syrup or—"
Her father hurriedly cuts you off. "Just the whipped cream and strawberries are fine."
"Alright, then." you chuckle and stride away to get their orders.
But just before you're out of earshot—
"Man, Six, you're such a downer!"
"Shush. You can try the other condiments some other time, Claire."
You furrow your brows as questions bounce around your skull. The main one being: her dad's name is a number? Or maybe you heard them wrong. Or maybe it's a nickname.
Muro and Mindy snicker at you as you collect the ordered slices of strawberry shortcake. You make a face at them as you place a small fork on each of the small plates holding the cake slices. Mindy hands you a bowl containing six strawberries, while Muro leaves a bowl of whipped cream on the tray. You grab one of the bill books and feign to hit Muro with it before placing it on the tray and sashaying back to the customers.
"Two strawberry shortcake slices!" you gleefully announce, depositing the slices to the girl and her father. "Plus, six strawberries and a bowl of whipped cream. I'll leave the check here. Enjoy!"
"Just a second, (N/N). Claire, don't eat it yet."
"What? Why?"
Your heart pounds with anxiety. Is there a fly on the cake? Is the icing too excessive? Does it not taste like a strawberry shortcake?
You're practically sweating buckets as you turn back to the girl's father. All your dreams are prepared to jump off the plane without parachutes. "Yes, sir? What seems to be the problem?" you manage to ask without stammering, though there's a vague crack in your voice.
He cuts into the slice, scoops whatever that can fit in the tiny fork, and holds it up to you. "Here.. you eat it first."
Wait.. what?!
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A/N: anyone want part 2? Cuz I've already written 2k words on part 2 mwahahahaha! I think I'll contain it into 3k words, but we'll see..
I'm also making some changes here regarding Six's biography to fit with the reader's age.
So in this fanfic, Six is:
37y/o (born 1985)
Incarcerated at age 15 (2000)
Recruited by Donald Fitzroy at age 18 (2003)
Officially Sierra Six at age 19 (2004)
Thus, he is 5 years younger than his movie age.
I also want to point out that the reader is who you are physically. I'll try my best to keep the skin/hair/eye color neutral (◕ᴗ◕✿)
Btw~ what did y'all about Claire and Six's POVs? I wanted to try tapping into their characters as a practice, plus I want y'all to find their perspective as interactive as the reader (if that makes any sense lol)
Lastly, I'm still a noob at tumblr so sorry for any mishaps¯\_༼ ಥ ‿ ಥ ༽_/¯ g'day! Hope you enjoyed! The portal to the next dimension part is this -> Chapter 2
