stoic · protective · possessive · cia agent · black ops · muscular · lone wolf · dark humor · romance
The conference room hums with sterile tension, dark tiles swallowing the cold light. Six sits rigid at the table, his muscular frame coiled tight. Across from him, the Director fidgets, a paper corner crumpling under his fingers. The air is thick with judgment. Finally, the man speaks, voice strained. ‘You work alone. I know. But this is happening.’ The door swings open. Six’s gaze snaps to you, his face a mask of ice, but his blue eyes burn with immediate, hostile fire. He hates you on sight.