#do not look the babysitter in the eye and call his paranoia selfish. he will share horrors you have never experienced

[petrichormore]

Bagi looking at Bad and going “No one would hurt the eggs.”

And Bad responding “Are you sure?”

And Bad remembering the eggs being kidnapped - by an unknown perpetrator they still haven’t discovered.

And Bad remembering Slime’s attempted murder of Dapper.

And Bad remembering Quackity’s confessing to wanting to kill eggs and threatening Dapper.

And Bad remembering the code monster.

And Bad remembering living in fear (he still does).

And Bad remembering him and Dapper being the last ones standing - the world on their shoulders.

And Bad remembering ElQuackity - and his son being kidnapped despite his impenetrable house and all his efforts.

And Bad remembering the months of hell he lived through - and the hell he continues to survive.

And Bagi calling him selfish.

“Are you sure?”

[notthecutesttrash]

Vanilla Ice Cream

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

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

Word count: 6.8k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You roll your eyes and huff, “dad!” 

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

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

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

“Don’t play coy.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened?” You ask. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry.” You mutter. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you done?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Six hums. “Is it the hair?” 

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

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

“Why?” He asks.

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

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

“But what if you do.” You retort. 

“I won’t.” He shakes his head. 

“But what if-“

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t.”

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

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

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

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

“Anywhere.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You didn't enjoy my talks?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You huff. “When did they come in?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Good night Court.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?” 

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

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

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

“I’m going to shower.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” you whisper, eyes glued to his. 

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

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

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

You scoff, “To be my bodyguard?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Just like?” This time you chuckle. 

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

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

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

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

[ffangirlingsince2001]

The Princess and the Witcher: Extinquished

*not my gif*

Geralt x Reader

Geralt of Rivia is not a babysitter, he is not a bodyguard, and he has no interest in transporting princesses across the continent. Until gold is offered and for the next 90 days he’s saddled with a chirpy, bubbly, princess, who is betrothed to the prince of Narok and has a desire to see everything before she’s trapped behind another set of walls.

A/N: A little early post to ease off the cliff hanger from the last post, but I am also sorry to say, this is the end, so please enjoy (as much as you can)

Warnings: ANGST

“You’re here to kill me.”

Geralt didn’t think he had heard her at first.

What his ears were convinced they had heard was so absurd he wanted to howl with laughter until no sound came out and he was just shaking. This was all some silly joke, she was trying to get back at him for something, no doubt.

It was a trick, to calm him down after she dropped the news about the prince, or the lack thereof. She was afraid and it was the first lie her childish mind had come up with, something so absurd it was only told in stories about Witcher’s that were meant to frighten children. Now, she was just trying to spare herself his wrath, and honestly, he was prepared to forgive her for everything. There was no prince and she was all his, they even had a home to grow in.

He knew he would live much longer than her, but every moment would be worth it. He would bask in every moment that he could love her. He would enjoy every smile, every soft touch, every worried look she would cast him when he came home from a particularly detrimental kill. She would be his wife, of course. They couldn’t have children, but that wouldn’t stop them from trying. Oh, he was already toying with all the ways they could try to have children. In the loft, in the fields to the west, on the beach to the east, and here in this little house that they would make a home.

All he had to do was forgive her, and hold her, and assure her he was mad no longer, and then they could begin their life together. But, when he moved forward to hug her, she took a solemn step back, tears still running down her face.

“Y/N, I’m not mad, there is no need to lie,” he whispered but all she did was drop to the table and bury her face in her hands, sobbing without restrain. He wasn’t sure what to do. She was lying… and yet. No, she had to be lying. There was no way she could be telling the truth, not when this proclamation was so horrible his hands shook at the thought of it. “Y/N…”

“Please, sit down,” she cried, still hiccupping with tears. He did as she said without a word, dropping his sword for good measure. She eyed it and then turned the teary irises back to him. “I’m not lying. I wish I was, but I am not.”

“Then I have misunderstood you.”

“You have not.”

“Then you must have hit your head as you fled.”

“Geralt, you have to kill me,” she snapped, slamming her clenched fists against the table. He was silent as he stared at her hands, they were so small and undamaged.

“What makes you say such terrible things, Princess?”

“Because they’re true. That’s why we’re here. That’s why you were chosen.”

“Chosen for what?” he yelled, irritation growing as he grew more frantic. He just wanted her to admit it was all a sick joke.

“Do you remember the first night we laid together, in the inn?” she asked, and he nodded. “I told you, you were chosen because you would do whatever it takes, this is what it takes. You were chosen because my father, his advisors, and I all knew that you would do it, when the final hour is upon us you will draw up your sword and end my life.” Geralt stood from the table, shoving it into her stomach as he did so.

“If you are to die, why the trip, why not kill you in your home?”

“Because I wanted to see the world before mine came to an end. It was never to end up like this, you were never supposed to know, not until the very end. And I never meant to become so close, it was supposed to be easy, it was supposed to be easy,” she cried, reaching for him.

“You’re lying. You’re fucking lying, you don’t want to be married so badly that you want me to believe I am supposed to kill you, to end your life before someone can control you. Well, you’ve made one error, I do not kill people, I kill monsters.”

“All the better,” she replied, voice dangerously steady as she straightened herself in the stiff, wooden chair. There were still tears in her eyes, but she meant business. “Please sit down, so I can explain.” He considered leaving, shearing off a piece of her hair and marching back to her father to demand the gold he had promised him, but instead he sat as instructed. She tried to take his hands, but he pulled away. Hurt etched itself across her face but he did not search for restitution.

“It happened before I was born, I didn’t even know it had occurred until a few years ago, and even then, I found out on accident. I assume they wouldn’t have told me until today if they could have avoided it, they would want to spare my sensibilities.”

“Tell you about what?” he snapped, jerking her out of her ramblings.

“The curse.” There was a beat of silence as she waited for him to respond but when he remained quiet, she continued. “Like I said it was a few years before I was born, my father was trying to find a queen to rule along side him. He was looking for someone with royal blood, but even commoners were invited to the parties he was throwing, in hopes of creating something so extravagant that it would attract a woman just as lively as the parties.

“Among the guests was this woman. My father says she looked like an angel that had dropped from heaven like gold from a sunset. He was captivated and mesmerized, so taken aback he was nervous to approach her. He thought about it the entire first night, never quite prepared to introduce himself to the woman he was sure he would marry.

“Because he failed the first night, he hosted another party the following week, and then the one after that, trying to produce something that would be as magnificent as her. On the third week he finally succeeded in approaching her. He introduced himself, and as he nervously stumbled over his name, she must have grown enchanted, because the parties ceased, and she was brought to the palace to be prepared for the wedding.

“Much to the disgrace of the royal family, she was a commoner, nothing more than a milkmaid, but my father was enamored, unwilling to part with her even when his father threatened to send the couple far, far away. The wedding drew nearer, and they were both so happy, so in love.

“And then war broke out. Our borders were shredded to nothing more than desolation, fires ripping across our crops until our farmlands were black scars against the rich earth. The wedding was postponed and for her safety, the lovely bride was sent away to hide. She waited years, and suddenly the war abruptly ended, and she returned to the palace, prepared to wed my father. Yet, when she entered the throne room, she found another sitting on her throne. My mother, the princess of the warring country, had stolen away her place by my father’s side. A marriage of treaty was formed while she was away, and she was left heartbroken and alone, an outcast in the palace that had once welcomed her as their future queen.

“I don’t know if she was a witch or a mage, or maybe she hired someone to do it for her, but the curse was cast on me. A curse that now hangs on the cusp of erupting into violence and bloodshed, a curse that you must end before it begins.”

“What is the curse?”

“A transformation.”

“Of what kind?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Then how do you know it is worth your life? How do you know your death is undisputable?”

“Because I know it’s bad. I can feel it in my bones. I could feel it when I killed the monster. I can feel it every time I look in the mirror and my eyes seem a little more animalistic. I just know, call it intuition, call it paranoia, I know that I am destined to be a monster.”

Geralt roared in frustration, slamming the blade of his sword into the door, lodging it in the soft wood. “You can’t know that.”

“I do.”

“I cannot kill you, especially not on the gut feeling of a princess who has not left the palace before three months ago.”

“We’ll know tomorrow, and you will have to be prepared. If you are right and it is nothing more than ugliness you can leave with your sword clean, but if it is what I know it to be, you must kill me. You cannot allow another monster to exist in this world.”

“There must be a way to break the curse, there is always a way,” he growled, head resting against the split his sword had created. He could hear her standing, inching her way towards him.

“You don’t think we have tried? You don’t think my father spent eighteen years trying to find a way to free me of his mistakes? We have tried, I’ve taken every motion, endured every experiment. It still lingers just beneath my skin like thick, black smoke, ready to turn me into a nightmare.”

“I can’t kill you,” he whispered and she took his face in her hands.

“You must, for the world and for me. I would rather die than ever have to kill another living creature.”

“You are so selfish it hurts.”

“I know, but I need you to do what it takes, and I need to remember what you promised me.”

“What have I promised you?”

“That you will not linger on those you kill. You must forget me, move on and continue to do good in this world.”

“Y/N, I love you, you cannot dare to ask me to kill you, let alone forget you.” She seemed taken aback by his confession, but as she pressed her lips to his he could feel the return of her feelings.

“You must, for the world and for me.”

 *******************************************************************************************

Gold is not gold.

Some is tainted with blood and loss.

And Geralt had no interest in coins that would cause him agony to spend. He was not even sure if he had wanted the gold if he would be able to enter the throne room without severing the kings head.

They had spent the night before her birthday making love. They had whispered confessions into one another’s ears long into the evening and into the night, basking in the secrecy of their affair. When she laid beneath him, he was unable to imagine her dead. She was so full of life, even with the sadness that settled itself in her eyes.

They imagined a future together, both silently and aloud. He could imagine her old and still kicking, like age couldn’t hold her back and she spoke of a twin on each hip, a boy and a girl that would talk just as much as she had when they first met. Beneath the candlelight and the peppering of kisses it was almost easy to forget it was all fake.

Then, the night had begun to draw to a close and she had lead him to the shackles attached to the wall, the hooks he had once mistaken as a tether for horses. He had begged her not to make him to do this, all while he assured her she would be okay.

The chains were tight and as the sun rose over the mountains, she was proven correct. In between screams of agony as her body transformed into a creature of no natural creation, she promised she loved him, that she would be with him, that even as his blade ended her life she would know him for nothing but sincerity and kindness.

And then he killed her, staring back into the eyes that did not change with the transformation. They seemed grateful, relieved that he went through with it, she clearly had doubts that he would be able to do whatever it took.

He buried her, it was the only life he had ever taken that he had buried, but he felt unable to leave without hiding her beneath the earth.

And then he left, in the opposite direction he had come, knowing that he would only be able to keep half of his promise.

He could kill her, but never in his lifetime would he forget her.

                                                        The End

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