#bodyguard harry

[moonchildstyles]

elan for halloween would be a dream♡ i can see her in the prettiest costume everrrrr and h just going along with everything, hearts in his eyes👼🏼🪽🦢maybe even a private moment together, in costumeeeee🤍

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"No, totally... For sure, it's going to be so much fun. Just text me when you get back to where you're staying... Yeah, I still have your location. Do you have mine?... Perfect, good. I'll text you later, but if you need anything just let me know... Love you, Fran." 

Harry watched on the end of (Y/N)'s bed as she spoke into her phone, hands wandering through her professionally tousled hair. While he was aware of what she was muttering to her best friend, not a single word processed when he had the distraction of her reflection in front of him. 

While he was getting a stellar view from behind her, the dressing gown she had draped over her shoulders hid the details of her halloween costume. This year, one of her three (three!) planned costumes was a Playboy Bunny. That was the bodysuit she had on tonight, complete with a puffed tail over her rear and a headband with bunny ears hanging off of her arm. The night's plans included making an appearance at a party thrown by a friend of a friend, the kind where her hair stylist was called and a makeup artist had been given the privilege of painting her face. 

She was left with big blown out hair, her face dewy and smooth with the prettiest blush dusting her cheeks. The pink flush was extra concentrated on the tip of her nose, giving the illusion of a bunny's nose without having to draw a button nose on her skin. Her lashes were long and fluttery, grazing her brow bone and brushing her cheekbones. Sparkling gloss had been swiped over her lips, playing against the shimmery white corset cinching her waist. In lieu of the traditional bowtie around her neck, she had a black choker tied around her throat with a tiny white bow stitched to the front. Her legs were silken smooth under a pair of sheer nude tights, leading to a classic pair of pointed black stilettos. Harry could already see her begging to carry her around so she wouldn't have to keep walking in those shoes. 

The champagne colored dressing gown draped over her form was only loosely tied at her waist, creating a deep V to show off stretches of her costume. It was hard for Harry to keep his focus when he looked at her. Her attention was miles far away from him, but he still felt drawn to her—unable to look away.

But, he reminded himself, he had to be on his best behavior for the night. He wasn't going out with her as her partner, dancing and drinking with her friends. He was going out with her as her bodyguard on duty, his sole purpose being to protect her to ensure she was safe amongst the throngs of almost-celebrities and paparazzi with blinding cameras. 

Though the real severe threats to (Y/N)'s well being had all but vanished once Damien had been removed from her vicinity (there were rumors he was relocated to Spain, the cover being that there was some internship with some artist he admired. Harry had a feeling Damien fled the second it reached him that (Y/N) knew and wasn't afraid of letting others know as well), there was always the worry of her walking into the lion's den that was the media. Especially at parties like these, where one drink would be exaggerated to chugging a whole keg, and photographers weren't afraid to push and pull for the ultimate shot. More than anything, he wanted to be there; to be a physical reminder that she wasn't alone and she had him on her side. 

"Right, right," (Y/N) muttered, rooting through the small purse she was taking with her for the night, "No, for sure. No, I'll text you... Okay, love you. Bye." 

Harry was surprised to see (Y/N) actually end the call given the fact that they'd said goodbye at least three prior times only to continue talking. Dropping her phone in her bag just as she found the lipgloss she'd been digging for, he watched as she took in a deep breath, breasts swelling over the balconette cut of her bodysuit. 

"Sorry," she sighed, meeting his eyes through the mirror with the applicator of her lipgloss dragging over her plush mouth, "I didn't think we'd talk that long." 

"'S alright," he murmured, forcing his gaze from the soft parts of her up to her eyes, "I figured you'd be talking for a while. I don't mind." 

Truthfully, this only gave him more and more time to get in all of his gazing and admiring and staring before he would have to be the consummate professional in public. He'd drink her in now in hopes of holding himself over until the early hours of the morning when they would finally be alone again. 

Rubbing her lips together to spread the gloss, (Y/N) pursed her lips with a pop. Harry had to keep his eyes from rolling to the back of his head as he watched. He forced himself to straighten his posture when she turned her gaze to his, no longer using the mirror as the middleman. 

"I wish you'd dress up with me tonight," she pouted, canting her head just right with the light catching her pinkened nose.

"I know," he sighed, standing up from where he'd been sat at her glamorous vanity. "Maybe another time—I've got to work tonight, remember?" 

She only rolled her eyes at him, a pinch of attitude twisting her features. "Sure, sure. Because someone's going to fight me in the middle of a night club."

Harry only looked at her with a deadpan look. She knew better than most just how easy it was for tensions to boil over in the dark like that, especially when alcohol was involved. He wasn't really in the mood to imagine her being the subject of a grainy cell phone video with someone attempting to pull her hair out or pour a drink over her head. 

"Fine, I know," she relented after only a moment of his silence, "I just think it would be cute if we were both bunnies or something. I'd even let you pick if you wanted something specific." 

He shook his head, his features finally cracking when he pulled her closer with an arm looped around her waist. "I just want whatever makes y'feel pretty. We'll match another time, but y'get to be the center of attention tonight." 

She softened immediately in his hold, reaching for him with the sleeves of the dressing gown sliding over her shimmering skin. "Okay. Thank you, H." 

Harry didn't bother with a response before he dipped his head down and pressed his lips to hers. The tip of his nose grazed the top of her own as he tasted the watermelon tint to her gloss. If it were up to him, he would continue this up until Sully arrived and they would be forced on their way, but he'd been in trouble one too many times to know that he wasn't going to get away with messing up her makeup before an event like this. 

Drawing away, the light caught a stray smudge of her gloss caught on the corner of her lip. With her face tipped up towards him like a flower looking for the sun, he used the pad of his thumb to lightly swipe away the offending smudge. He could feel the weight of her gaze on his face, tracing the planes and lingering on his lips, where he was sure  there was the mark of her kiss glistening in the low light. 

"I think I want to come home early tonight," (Y/N) whispered with Harry's thumb pausing just at the corner of her mouth. 

"Yeah?" he pressed, raising his brows as he looked down at her. Carefully, he maneuvered his arm around her waist until he was pulling the headband of bunny ears from the crook of her elbow. 

"Yeah," she breathed, no further explanation leaving her lips once Harry tipped her head back. 

He pushed the headband over her hair, leaving the volume of her hair to flare out just behind the massive ears now stationed on the top of her head. (Y/N) didn't move, only looking up at him.

"'M sure we can make that happen, sweet girl." 

Making the hard choice for the both of them, Harry unravelled his arms from around her and took a step back to allow clear air into their lungs. 

"Finish getting ready, and I'll let Sully know we're almost ready." 

With that, he exited her bedroom, knowing he would need a second to recuperate if either of them had a chance of acting normal for the night. He could feel (Y/N)'s eyes following him all the way out. 

—————

Harry shifted, adjusting his stance as his pants felt entirely too tight as he kept his eyes stitched to the Playboy Bunny across the room. 

It was criminal the way she was able to take all of the air out of his lungs when she was doing the most simple of things, when her attention was far from on him. Just dancing with her friends (and the hangers- on that would no doubt be posting about these interactions in the coming days) was enough to have him crossing his arms over his chest and clenching his jaw. He couldn't take his eyes off of her as she fluffed her hair, played with the bunny ears on her head with a grin aimed at her friends, and ran her hands over the curves of her body. 

He had forced himself into his work mindset before they'd gone out, just for those expectations to be cast aside. Of course, with his eyes on her, he was able to keep track of who was approaching her, and who was getting a touch too close, but that didn't mean that was his priority at the moment. He was too entranced with watching the way her hips moved, the swell of her breasts over the cups of her corset, the length of her legs in the silky tights. Every time the light shined just right over her face, and he caught the pink blush on her nose, he wondered how long he would have to kiss her until that blush became real. 

Photographs and videos were taken of her as she had fun, some where he was sure there could be a glimpse of him simmering in the background. He wondered if there would be any articles picking apart his body language. 

Despite how much fun she was having, Harry wanted to cling to her earlier request of heading home while the night was still young. Truthfully, he doubted he could make it much longer with just watching her. His hands were already fisted under his arms. 

A small smile touched the corner of his lips, cracking the stoic exterior, when he saw her twirl on the dance floor. She had her hands in her fluffed hair, and a bubbly smile on her features. He could just barely hear the melody of her laugh over the sound of the music and the volume of the chatter. The faint traces of her remaining lip gloss sparkled in the party lights, drawing his gaze to her mouth like a faithful spotlight. 

Harry barely saw the others in her circle playing along, dancing to the unfamiliar song thumping through the speakers. With the way (Y/N)'s body moved, the rolling of her hips, the way her breasts bounced against the tight corset, there was no way he was picking up on any details of the surroundings; no one could ask him the color of anything with the expectation of getting the right answer, not when (Y/N) was acting like this. 

Following the sparkles sprinkled over her décolletage, the ribbon around her throat and the delicate slope of her neck, Harry realized (Y/N) was looking at him when he matched her gaze. There was a sparkle there, one different than that of her makeup. A sly smile touched the very corners of her mouth. 

He'd been caught, but Harry didn't dare to look away from her. 

Watching as she excused herself from her friends, looking for only a moment over her shoulder before she threaded through the crowd. Heading directly towards him. Harry shifted in his spot on the edge of the crowd, stationed near the table that had been reserved exclusively for her and the attention she would draw to this party.

Aware of the cameras that could easily capture them, both professional and amateur, (Y/N) didn't draw too near, but the heat she brought with her was enough to tickle along his skin. 

"Hey, you," she greeted, a flirtatious undertone to the words. Her smile was a touch too bright to be only casual.

"Hi," he answered, dipping his chin in an attempt to level with her eyes, "Y'come here often?"

 A peal of laughter spilled from her, (Y/N) leaning forward as if he said the funniest joke she'd ever heard. "You're so annoying," she shook her head though she held no real grit in her voice. She recovered with her lips in a curl as she canted her head. "Are you having fun at least? You haven't even moved from here all night. 

"'M having fun watching you have fun," he clarified, "How are y'feeling?" 

"I'm good," she sang, her features staying rounded and innocuous despite the way her eyes dropped from his, to the pillows of his lips. There, the glittery lids grew heavy, hooding her irises. "I think I might be ready to go home, though." 

"Yeah?" Harry pressed, his voice suddenly deeper. Enough so that (Y/N) took the risk and leaned closer. 

"Yeah," she affirmed, nibbling at her lip, "I promised you I would let us get home early tonight, remember?" 

"But, if you're having fun, we don't have to go yet, love. I can wait for you."

 "I can't." 

It was the way that she met his eyes, gaze clear and heavy, that had a pump of blood rushing through his system and bruising his ribs. 

"Say bye to your friends, I'll call Sully." 

When she tossed a bright smile in his direction, sparkling gaze trained on him, Harry saw a camera trained in their direction to capture the moment. 

That was a photo he hoped would resurface at some point.

—————

"Have a goodnight, kids. I'll see you in the morning, Miss (Y/N)." 

With (Y/N)'s hand still tucked into Harry's elbow, a light jacket draped over her shoulders, she looked to Sully over her shoulder. "See you in the morning," she called.

Her steps never slowed, Harry keeping up with her while he bit back a smile. She definitely wasn't lying when she said she could wait. 

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, he pushed open the door to her building, allowing her to step inside first. The sound of her heels clicking over the glossy floor matched the ticking of his heart. He faithfully followed her towards the elevator, tossing a polite smile to the lobby attendant for the both of them. 

It wasn't until they were safe behind the gleaming doors of the elevator, only the mirrored walls and orchestrational music keeping them company, that (Y/N) broke. 

Swirling to stand before him, with her heels assisting her height, she tugged Harry down with her arms looped around his neck. As soon as she was close enough, she pressed her lips to his in a messy smear. The tip of their noses mashed together before Harry was able to tilt his head. He could feel the remnants of her lip gloss, the soft heat of her kiss, the creases that matched up with his so perfectly. Parting his lips just enough, he slipped the tip of his tongue across the plush of her own mouth, getting a taste of the few sips of alcoholic lemonade she had at the beginning of the evening. 

A breathy sigh fanned across his kiss when she opened her own mouth. Her tongue played along with his, getting a taste of him just as teasingly as he did for her. He clutched at her hips, finally getting more than a passing graze of the silken fabric that held tight over her body. The high leg cut of the bodysuit allowed him to feel glimpses of her bare skin through the tights pulled over her legs. 

He wondered how long he would be able to keep her in this outfit before he was forced to tear it off of her. 

Just as she chanced a hike of her leg over his thigh, the elevator dinged over their heads. it was Harry that pulled away first, looking over (Y/N)'s shoulder to see her penthouse level being highlighted. 

"I'll follow you, sweet girl," Harry murmured, forcing himself to turn her body away from his and towards the opening doors. 

She blinked herself back to the real world, clutching Harry's hand in her own before taking them down the hallway. It felt like an eternity as she dug through for the key to her door, long enough for him to skate his eyes down her form and over the exposed curve of her ass from the cut of the costume. He felt his pants tighten, his cock stirring at the sight. 

As soon as she was able, she tugged him into her apartment after her. It was Harry that had the wherewithal to lock the door after them, only getting through the twisting motion for a second before she was pulling him away. 

"We'll do that later. You're not my bodyguard tonight, just my boyfriend," she insisted, taking him to the couch with her. 

A lopsided grin took over his mouth, going along with her as she urged him to take a seat on the plush sofa. "I thought y'liked that I protect you? What happened to that, sweet girl?" 

"I do," she countered, taking a seat on his lap with her hands landing on the broad of his shoulders, "But I just want you to fuck me right now—not bodyguard me." 

Harry felt a pulse of heat race through his system. He didn't think before he smeared his lips across hers, decidedly messier and harsher than the kiss they shared in the elevator. 

She relented to his strength, clutching at his shoulders while he clutched at her waist. The boning of her corset was stiff under his hands, keeping her back arched as she leant into him. His palms skated over her form as she moaned into his mouth, the slick press and pull of their mouths filling the quiet of her apartment.

The ties of her corset slipped against his fingers just before he ran its other cotton fluff of her bunny tail. He couldn't help but to tug on it, hoping she could feel just how much he enjoyed her costume. The roll of her hips she gave in response was the right answer. 

A whining moan rang from her throat then, the thin covering between her legs providing no cushion against the bulge of his cock underneath her core. She pulled away with her chest heaving against his, leaving Harry to drag his lips down the line of her jaw and down the curve of her neck. 

He hoped her makeup artist for the next Halloween party wouldn't mind using a few extra minutes to cover whatever marks he left over tonight. 

Harry gently nipped at the soft skin of her throat, his tongue soothing that same area within the same breath. He sucked and bit, feeling the skin heat under his mouth. (Y/N) fisted his shirt, her manicured nails behind felt through the material. The light scratch against his skin was enough to have his hips bucking up to hers, meeting her soft core in a shallow thrust. 

"Harry," she breathed, his name said like a prayer in a delicate voice. "I don't want to wait." 

He only shushed her as he dotted kisses down her neck once he was satisfied with the love bite he left behind on her throat. She might not want to wait, but he was more than happy taking a bit of extra time with his mouth on her. 

Once he reached the swell of her breasts, he brought a hand up from her rear to the flexible cups of her corset. It didn't take much force to fold it down and expose her peaking nipple. He took the bud between his lips, sucking it against his tongue. The scraping of his teeth had goosebumps sparking over her skin, her nipple hardening against the buds of his tongue. 

Her hands on his shoulders shifted upwards into the baby curls on the back of his neck, fingers sliding amongst the waves. It was his turn to let out a strangled moan as he moved to press his lips to her other breast, spurring (Y/N) on to tug at the roots of his hair just enough to send a zip over the knobs of his spine. 

Wrapping an arm around her back, he pressed her closer to his mouth, muffling his moan as he laved his tongue over her breast. The only movement she could make over his lap was to sit on his thighs, pressing her core headily against his cock. 

He could feel the way his cock twitched when he imagined the heat that was waiting for him, the tight channel he was going to squeeze the head into. 

God, could he really wait much longer? 

Pulling away from her chest with a pop, his lips swollen and slick with saliva, Harry looked up at her with darkened eyes. She looked devastating, eyes glossy with thick lashes, her bunny-pink nose and lips agape, tongue tasting of his name. 

"Harry?"

He pressed a hard kiss to her waiting mouth. "Want m'help with your costume?" 

"I've got it," she rushed out, stumbling from his lap as she blindly reached for the ties of her corset. 

It only took a moment of watching her unable to reach the right ties, that Harry let out a breathy laugh. He spun her with his hands on her hips, presenting him with the view of her back with her bunny tail at his face. He couldn't help but to plant a kiss on the small of her back, an act that had a small giggle sounding from his girl. 

Harry worked gently and methodically as he undid the ties of her costume. He brushed the bare skin of her back as he worked his fingers under the ribbons, the boning loosening with every pull. Soon enough the entire ensemble was pushed down her hips and left in a puddle at her feet. (Y/N) took in a deep breath, looking over her shoulder at where he sat with spread legs on the couch. 

"Ears or no ears?" she asked, referring to the headband pinned to her hair. 

"Ears," he answered definitively. 

A sly sight colored her lusted features. "Okay." 

She had to have been putting on a show with the slow pace she rolled down her tights. (Y/N) slowly bent at the hips as she needed, her ass in Harry's face with the puffy lips of her pussy on display the deeper she bent. He could already see the way her slit was glistening for him. She hadn't been lying when she said she wasn't interested in waiting. 

It was a bit selfish, he thought, leaving her to do the hard work of undressing while reaching down to the bulge in his lap. But, he wasn't one to say no to a show, especially not one as pretty as this. 

Undoing the fastenings of his trousers, Harry pushed the band of his briefs down his thighs. The ruddy head was already smeared with precum, enough that allowed him to glaze down the rest of his length as he fisted over himself. There was no doubt (Y/N) heard the slick sound that rang through the apartment; especially not when she looked at him over her shoulder, her ass in his face and bunny ears on her head. 

Her teeth sank into her bottom lip, eyes darkened. 

Her movements became a bit clumsy then, leaving the rest of his dressing to be left on the floor in record time. But, before she had a chance to climb back on his lap, Harry caged his free arm around her waist from behind. She let out a gasp, grabbing for his forearm that curled around his middle. 

Harry tugged her down to sit on his lap, her back to his chest with the warmth of her pussy pressed right against the base of his cock. A full moan fell from her lips, (Y/N) throwing her head back to be laid against his shoulder.

"Alright with this?" he asked, referring to both the way he was taking her from behind and the fact she was naked while not a single article of his own clothing had been discarded. 

"Uh-huh," she nodded absently, turning her head until she was snuggling against the column of his throat. "As long as you still kiss me." 

An affection curl took over his mouth. "'M sure we can manage," he mused, "Budge up for me, love." 

Lifting her hips while Harry's arm was still barred around her middle, he fisted his cock in his palm. With the way she hovered just above him, he was able to skim the head of his cock along her slick folds, smearing his precum around her core. 

"Let me know if y'want me to stop or slow down," he murmured to her, something he told her every time she allowed him the privilege of settling between her thighs. 

"Stop body guarding me, I'm f—" 

Her chiding was cut off when Harry pushed his hips upwards, splitting her open with the head of his cock. A garbled call of his name bubbled out of her, the kind of thing that she attempted to bite back but still made it way out. He pulled her down onto his lap, bottoming out through her slick walls. A pleasured sigh heaved from his chest. 

Harry bucked up into her, driving himself that much deeper, pushing his balls against her budding clit. Her breathing was shaky. 

(Y/N )'s legs were spread wide around his own parted knees, leaving her open for him to begin bucking up into. She made the sweetest noises, the kind that told him he was hitting the deepest parts of her she had once told him had never been reached before him. He didn't have to see her to know that her eyes were fluttering to a close, nose pinched as she fought to keep her cool 

Slick noises filtered through the space, her walls pulsing around him, attempting to suck him deeper though he was barely even pulling out at the beginning of each thrust. 

"I-I wanna help," she whined, digging her fingers into the cage of his arm. 

"Yeah?" he breathed, smearing a kiss to the dip of her shoulder, "Go ahead and help me, sweetheart." 

He always thought it was quite cute that she wanted to help him when she was on top, despite how much he could tell she enjoyed just being bounced on his lap. His sweet girl, right to her core.

Slowing his bucks to gentle rolls of his hips, Harry allowed her to shift over his lap. Moving until she was straddling his pelvis, knees brought up to dig into the cushions of her sofa. She was spread wide open for him to reach around and graze her clit, the leverage of her knees on the couch allowing her to lift off of his cock until only the head was still tucked inside before dropping back down. 

"Oh—Harry," she cried, arching her back with her bunny ears going lopsided. 

With the enticing curve of her back, Harry's eyes were led right to the rounded curve of her ass. As she established her pace, the plush flesh slapped back against his lap. He couldn't take his eyes off, leaning back to watch the feast that was her body as she rode him. 

Around her waist, his hand wrapped around her front dropped low until he met the top of her slit. He could feel the way his cock was splitting her open, a grazing that had his mouth falling open. His fingertips met her wet clit, the first touch being enough to have (Y/N) stumbling in her pace. 

"Harry, oh my god." 

That was all he needed to hear before he was circling her clit harder, the pads of his fingers unrelenting. "I've got y'sweet girl. Gonna cum for me?" 

"A-Are you?" 

"Want me to cum with you, sweetheart?" he choked out through gritted teeth. As much as playing with her clit was for her, the shocks felt through her body with the pulsing walls and squeezing thighs, that was for him. 

"Uh-huh," she moaned out, her fluffed hair in a mess, "In-Inside." 

It was his turn to let out a string of curses. With his free hand, Harry cuffed his hand around her neck, pulling her flush against his chest. Keeping true to her request, he pressed his lips to hers in a messy kiss; he was barely on center, teeth and tongues playing against one another. (Y/N)'s moans slipped through into his mouth, sweet and sugary. 

There was no way he wouldn't be able to follow through on her request. Not when she was asking him to cum inside her, where her walls pulled and squeezed around him. She was snug, unwilling to let go of him, even when it was only for a moment with the rolls of her hips. 

A frayed knot came to fruition in his stomach. It wasn't strong, but it was tight—the kind that would only crumble under pressure. And his pressure was calling his team in ecstasy, requesting him to cum inside of her with her wet pussy doing all the extra convincing. 

"I want you to finish first," he breathed against her mouth, "My bunny goes first." 

She wanted to smile, that much he could tell with the twitch of her lips, but there was too much on her mind to record the bubbling feeling over his teasing. Instead, a pinch formed between her brows, Harry's fingers over her clit doing that much more to draw her to the edge. 

It all happened so quickly. At one moment, she was fluttering her lashes closed with her lips parted, and the next she was pulling away from his kiss with her head thrown back to his shoulder. 

(Y/N) grew impossibly wet around him, her walls that much tighter. The pace of her hips dropped until she was making only shaky rolls, toes curling on either side of his thighs. A breathless moan fell from her lips, her kiss-swollen lips parted. 

All it took for Harry after feeling her pleasure and feeling the way every part of her body attempted to clung to him, was seeing the bunny-pink blush on her nose. Then he was summing. 

He felt the way his cock throbbed just before ropes of his cum spurted from his tip. He was buried deep inside her, his release painting across the ridges of her walls. (Y/N) could feel the warmth, the pressure, he could tell with the way she clenched around him, both inside and out. 

Keeping her flush to him, Harry wondered if they were in the same universe then. Were their heads filled with the same clouds? The thought had him holding her that much tighter. 

Coming back down to earth came faster for (Y/N), leaving her to start spreading kisses along the side of his face. 

"Harry," she murmured, breathless and tired, "Harry, I love you." 

A small smile curled his lips, his eyes still closed as she felt another aftershock rock his body. "I love you, too." 

His first act back on the material plane came in the form of turning her face to give her a proper kiss. The urgency had been drained from his body (literally), leaving him with only affection for his sweet girl. 

He slumped back against the couch cushion, keeping her with him as she went lax. 

"Can I stay here for a minute?" she murmured, her words holding a drawl. 

Harry spoke through his smile, "Few more minutes, sweetheart. Then we'll get ready for bed, ‘kay?" 

"'Kay," (Y/N) replied, though they both knew that he wasn't going to have the heart to make her get up until she was ready. 

Moving cautiously, Harry pulled the throw blanket draped over the back of the sofa. He wrapped it around (Y/N)'s nude body, covering her before the chill of the room could eat at the bliss in her system. 

Silence settled over them, Harry running a comforting circuit with his hand over her hip, the other hugging her around the waist. He closed his eyes when he swore he could feel the rhythm of her heartbeat—a grounding baseline. 

Yeah, there was no way he was moving from this spot unless forced to do so.

"Harry?" 

"Hm?" he hummed, pressing an absent kiss just to the side of her bunny ears. 

"So," she started, amusement beginning to echo in her tone, "Bunny?" 

Harry shook his head, biting back a smile as he held her that much tighter. "We're not getting into this tonight." 

(Y/N) only laughed. 

���————

[frosthexe]

Catch and Release - shealwaysreads (onereader) - Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling [Archive of Our Own]

Wizarding Britain is changing; a slow integration with the Muggle world has begun, and Draco Malfoy has been summoned from his quiet life crafting wards in France to help. But that’s not what this story is about.

This story is about Potter, and magic, and the courage it takes to reach out.

[1d1195]

Protection

She hates her security detail and everything it stands for. So if she’s going to be miserable she’s going to take everyone responsible for her safety down with her.

But then she meets the newest agent in charge of her protection: Harry. Harry has one job and that’s to protect her; it should be easy enough. How much trouble can a 24-year old student get up to?

Fan art by @tiredinwinter inspired by Part IV 🥹💕

Miss Wildflower and Harry’s ideal home

@harrysonlylover sent me this quote from Miss Wildflower

Head Above Water by Avril Lavigne (esp during Extra I)

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

Part VII

Part VIII

Part IX

Part X

Extra I

Extra II

Extra III

Extra IV

[sushirrrry]

protective bodyguard harry blurb with smut please?

order a harry styles one-shot smut blurb; 4.5k words cw: oral sex, dom/sub, control kink, & strong language

The grasp on her arm was tight as he pulled her back away in the small room off to the side; she tried to get out of it before she huffed in his face. He let go for a moment, looking at her before the scowl on his face mirrored hers.

The room full of curtains, all the way up to the ceiling as they coated in the majestical way that the royal setting of the palace provided. The bright colors and the warmth of the light in the room seemed to be opposite to the behavior of which they stood.

As the door shut behind them; they were now alone, awaiting the orders of her officiates before the engagement that they were to be involved. Her royal highness was to be on the grounds today with her father, his royal majesty, to offer a showing of their efforts towards their charity gala that they would showcase that evening.

But her prior, childish behavior had sent her security into a tailwind of nervousness. In the nervousness, sat a deeper feeling that he couldn’t seem to overcome as he stared at the way that the black dress hugged the curves of her shape—the inline of her waist were held tightly with the expensive fabric, the sweet white ribbon held her hair back in a half-up ponytail as the rest wisped against the edges of her shoulders.

Harry couldn’t stand the way she flaunted around in such a manner; he couldn’t stand the way his hands ached to touch her, even if for a rough moment of punishment.

But maybe that was the issue.

“What was that for?” Harry snarled at her, “You think it’s funny to put yourself into those kinds of situations?”

She crossed her arms over her chest as she looked back at him with disgust.

“What do you mean? I was only offering a photo—”

“You cannot send yourself into the crowd like that, especially in the public engagements. He could have grabbed you, or worse. You know the protocol, and you know that you can’t do that. When will you learn?”

His breath was heated as he stared at her, practically backed into the corner as her sweet smiles from before now only replaced with the scathing frown.

“Nothing was going to happen to me,” She explained, “All he did was put his arm around me. It was possibly just out of habit—and you embarrassed me, pulling me away like that.”

Sure, yes, Harry knew that he may have been a bit overprotective in the sense of how he handled the situation, but he wasn’t going to let anyone touch her in a way that was past the protocoled handshake.

The way that her breath inflated had his eyes settled on her chest for a moment; his eyes lifted just slightly at the way that her stealth mirrored him. She wasn’t going to back down this time, and he could see the flames hidden in her hazel eyes.

“Your highness, I will not apologize for putting your safety at my highest concern.” He told her sternly, pushing his feet forward just a bit as he watched her take a step back. “You know that you’re not allowed to step into the crowds, nor are you allowed to insert yourself into them unprovoked, without proper authority to do so,” His hands sat in fists next to the trousers that had started to feel a tightness that he only wished would subside. “That’s an order.”

A sudden hint of a snap hit her below the stomach, like an overturned eighteen-wheeler. Her breath settled on the tip of her tongue as her eyes fluttered at the way that he spoke to her.

The way that his black trousers settled on his hips with the delicate tuck of the white button down that she had seen him wear every day, without fail. She watched the way that his lower arm flexed as his fist clenched and the rolled-up sleeves became tight.

The silence of the room didn’t deafen her, but the annihilation of the thumping of her heartrate could have, easily.

“Do you have any idea how angry it makes me when you don’t listen to me?” He further pushed, but the tone was lowered, almost like he just wanted her to understand that every part of him wanted her to listen—to succumb to the realization that there was security in knowing that she could trust him.

She settled her lips together, nodding a few beats before her chin nodded.

She did understand how angry it made him—she watched the way that his eyes sharpened whenever her hand would linger in the crowds for too long, or when someone would reach out and grab at her. With decorum, she would nicely try to retreat. She was a nice girl, after all, and she would never want to put the royal name in any distress.

But Harry watched her—felt her, knew her intentions were to have him watch her every move. It was almost impossible to ignore the way that his eyes flickered and stayed on her as he tried his best to keep her safe.

With keeping her safe meant having her all to himself. That was the only way that he knew she would be safe—if they were in a room, completely on their lonesome without another being around to possibly put a lingering hand on her.

When his being pushed her against the wall, the twenty-foot ceilings with wall-to-wall wallpaper that had been installed by her family hundreds of years prior, he felt the electricity of her

“You like playing these games because you,” His breath hitched as he watched her eyes focus on the way that his mouth moved around, playing with the words on the tip of his tongue, “You like being punished. Don’t you?”

She gasped as his hand firmly placed itself next to her ear against the wall, almost like he had demanded an answer, without giving her a moment to think. Her eyes were glazed over, as if knowing what was to come, but already knowing the feeling that his hands would have on her in a way that she craved.

She had always craved.

“Tell me.” He moved his face further into her realm, pushing her—coaxing her to do as he told. Somewhere in the line of his need for control lie her need to submit to him; it was a merriment of the two that urged his fingers to pull her to look up at him with a darkness that she ached for.

“I want you to tell me how much you need me under that tight, little dress,” His eyes referenced the dark material that hugged her in the most sensual way, but it was classic and modern and gave her the edge that the modern royals had needed, and what he had so desperately salivated over since he had been told that he was to watch over her.

Her breath came in sharp as he she tried to feel a separation from him, but couldn’t as his foot stood between her legs, his knee nudging her knees to stay apart. She tried to close her thighs but couldn’t. The smirk on his face was apparent as he knew she needed relief and wouldn’t be able to find any.

“I would never wear a dress like this,” She practically stuttered out; a pathetic line, as he knew that she was becoming putty in his hands just at the way her eyes were glass, “Unless I knew someone else would want to take it off, Mr. Styles.”

Harry’s lips parted at the words, watching as she practically fell directly into his trap—placing herself into his atmosphere as he ached for her need, her greediness to be seen.

He knew that they didn’t have much time. Someone would be looking for them, surely. But he didn’t care enough to process what would happen if they were caught in this. His attention firmly stayed on her, and he knew that if he didn’t address now, she would never listen to him again.

He couldn’t have that—he couldn’t have her disobey him. That was pure blasphemy, and he would never allow it.

“Am I to trust that you can watch the door?” The hint of a smirk the only emotion he could muster as he strained to explode in the confines of her gaze, “Can you do at least one thing correctly?”

She cocked her jaw out to the side as she raised a brow at his snarky comment.

“Am I to trust that you will actually be able to make me cum?”

Harry pushes his hips against hers, causing her brows to narrow as a slight reaction. The words that floated off her tongue were filthy, but he knew that he could clean her up in a matter of moments.

“I could make you cum just by my words, love,” His voice like venom, “Making you wait for my cock is just the punishment you need. Always getting what you want—you love playing this game because I’m making you beg for it. And I’ll play along because,” A humorless laugh leaves his lips, “Because you’re going to be a good girl for me now, aren’t you?”

“You,” She swallowed back her bite as she tried her best to study him. “Work for me.”

Harry brushed some of the hair from her face that he knew had fallen from the pretty ribbon that held her hair back in its place.

“Alright,” A broken smile placed on his face as he knew the game she was playing—a good game, at that.

“Walk away, then. Since you’re such a good little Princess, all proper and innocent,” He stared at the way that her lips part as he had moved away just a bit. “But I know that you want my tongue nestled between your thighs so bad, and you’d never give up the opportunity if it were to present itself to you. Trust me,” He said, “I will work for you.”

He watched as she thought for a moment; the tough exterior trying to remain but failing over and over again as her eyes lowered for a moment just at the thought of him moving away. She couldn’t help but think of the scorching hot heat of his tongue pressed into her, lapping up every ounce of wetness she had.

A subtle whimper left her lips as she struggled with the thought, backing against the wall enough that had his knee pressed directly into his cunt—just like he knew she wanted. The smirk that followed stated it all. She riled underneath him, pressing upwards a bit to try to get away from the feeling that elicit her, but knowing that she couldn’t fight it.

Even though she tried to push it away, she needed him in a way that felt almost animalistic. So, she surrendered to his pushback, letting her hands move up to rest on his shoulders as he felt the subtle pull towards her.

“That’s what I thought.” He said, a cocky tone milked from his throat as he won her convictions.

She tilted her head back as she could; the feeling of his hands running down the length of her body was all that she could have asked for in the moment. It was almost like heaven’s gate opened as she pulled her hips towards and into him. Harry’s eyes watched the length of her throat as she arched towards him just a bit.

His lips firmly attached to the skin, letting the softness underneath him feel scathing and almost unattainable. As he kissed down towards her collarbone, he made sure to nuzzle underneath the family heirloom pearls that rested against her skin.

Without another warning, he was on his knees before her—as if a metaphor for the way that he had been begging for this moment for the last three-hundred days that he had been notified he was to care for her; to watch her, to keep her safety as his priority.

All he had ever wanted was to be on his knees in front of her; kissing her, eating her in a way that craved every single moment that his eyes devoured her.

His fingers nudged the black fabric up her thighs, watching as it stretched over the subtly curves and dips of her hips. His knees settled on the ground as he allowed his eyes to stare up at her, watching as she arched against the wall, almost pushing her hips towards him to feel what he had been teasing.

“How long has it been?” His voice was hot on a whisper as he kissed the inside of her thigh, watching her reaction to him practically explode at the heat of his lips.

She swallowed back, “You would know,” She muttered, “You haven’t left my side in a year.”

At her words, he smirked with a knowingness; he knew that she hadn’t left his side. Their tension and weight of this had only been stewing for so long, and he was finally getting the opportunity to show her the way that he had always wanted her.

“You’re going to be fucking tight around my fingers, won’t you?” He spoke, his tongue feeling tingly as he asked the dirty words.

She bit her lip. “I don’t know what gave you the illusion that I was a prim and proper Princess,” She urged, “Surprised you never heard me moaning your name when my bedroom door was closed.”

It was his turn to whimper, just thinking of all the times he had traveled with her, knowing that she was safe behind the shut doors. He had wondered if her time alone was peaceful; knowing that no one else was around to bother her, as her public job was practically a lifestyle.

But now he knew that she thought of him as she fucked herself into oblivion on the cream, silk sheets—spread and open as if telepathically waiting for him to check on her. So fucking prim and so fucking proper.

“Got a mouth on you, hm?” He commented, a roughness to his tone as he held his hands against the skin of her thighs as his own mouth practically watered at the touch, “What would the commonwealth think of their dainty, little Princess with a mouth like that?”

“It’s a fun little act,” She huffed out, a smile on her lips as she bit on her lip at the way that the man’s eyes plead with certainty of need, “Even more fun sneaking around like this, don’t you think?”

“Hm,” Harry hummed, his eyes moving up to catch hers as he shakes his head a little bit, “’S a gift to me.”

His hands caress her thighs, moving the black dress up until he’s reached the periwinkle lace, accented with a baby pink bow right at the top. His eyes guide up to her as he feels the strong connection of their electrical magnetism forcing himself as close as he can; his lips attached to the skin right underneath the slim line where the dress is pushed up.

But, right above the pink bow.

“Even your dripping pussy has a bow for me,” His heated breath was hot on her skin as she whimpers at the feeling of his merciful pout on her delicate skin, “A gift all for me.”

She felt the way her knees wanted to bend inward at the way he made her feel; a horrific shuttering of need coursing through her, watching as his head moved its way further down, attaching itself to the outside lace. As if, to only get a small taste of her. He had been holding himself back to help control his appetite for what was underneath. A teasing approach that left her shuttering out a breath.

But he was starving for the contact in one way or another.

“Watch the fucking door,” He stated, pulling away for a minute. “Don’t you dare let us get fucking caught. You’re going to have an orgasm so fucking strong you aren’t going to know what hit you.”

“Yes—yes, sir.” She blinked a few times; hands wrapped around the longer curls that practically melted between her fingertips as he sat on his knees in front of her.

His eyes moved back up to her as he watched knees as they shook in a height of adrenaline and anticipation.

“So sweet. Such a good girl for me. Doing as I say.” He commented, one of the soft remarks he made as he kissed at her inner thigh knowing that she needed a bit of kindness to overlay with the tough punishment he was going to put her through.

His fingers interlaced with the waistband of the lace panties, the waistband on them laying around his fingertips as he pulled them down with a swoop. He couldn’t believe the way that his eyes attached to the dripping cunt that practically swelled with anticipation for him—watching her writhe as there was now no friction made his cock strain underneath the trousers.

“Touch yourself,” He whispered, “Show me where you need me.”

His head felt dizzy with the starvation of her as he watched her succumb to his order. Her fingers daintily placed along on the swollen bud of her clit, pressing softly as she moaned at the touch she craved for. His eyes dark with a blackness for what occurred in front of his eyes, knowing she rewarded him with every single move.

She wriggled underneath his stare, as he used his own to gently gather the wetness that lie between her thighs. The slickness of her desire coating his fingertips as he gathered them along the length of her swollen cunt, pressing upwards just a bit as he looked up to gauge her reaction to the feeling.

Her mouth opened slightly, a hitched gasp as she practically folded in half; her back arched enough to wanting his touch so bad she couldn’t hardly stand it any longer.

“C’mon, show me more,” He urged, tapping at her leg softly, “Here—put it up here.”

On his knees, he was situated between her legs as he helped her foot urgently rest against his shoulder. He wanted the most access; the most visual for his own selfishness, as he felt his mouth water at the way she opened for him.

“Christ,” He muttered under his breath as his fingers came back up to directly press against her clit, watching as she held onto him for balance now. The soft pump of her heel dug into his shoulder, but he knew the pain was causing the adrenaline to shoot through his body. “Gonna’ fucking devour you.”

It doesn’t take any longer for his tongue to press against the center of her; the way that she falls into his touch only makes sense. The dirty tongue that had been speaking nonsensical words of affection was now tasting her in a way that felt obliged and dutiful.

“Fuck—fuck,” She whined, pulling at the hair to practically push his tongue further into her depths as he lapped up the wetness collecting around her.

“Knew you’d taste like a fucking dream,” He pushed against her thighs to keep her spread for him, his hair falling into his face as he sucked gently on her swollen clit, which led to her shuttering in practical defeat. “Fuck, Princess.”

The small play of a nickname sent her stomach into a fit, letting her hips lead her into the grasp of his tongue as she pulled at the curls that rested in the curls of his hair. She pulled it when she felt the way that he inserts his middle finger, lapping around the entrance as he buried his nose to nudge against her clit.

The small amount of penetration leads her body to need—to swell around him, as he pulls back just a bit as if the sensitivity had gotten the best of her. His tongue lapped at her entrance, spitting directly where she needed him most—as if it wasn’t wet enough; he loved knowing that she could writhe against him and soak him like this.

“I want you to—”

Notably, the sound of heels clicking against the hardwood of the chamber floors seemed to catch their attention. It’s enough that both of their fantasies push away in a moment, almost like their bubbles had burst with knowing that being caught wasn’t an option.

Harry pulls away from her thighs as she fumbles with pulling the black dress down her thighs, down to the knees where the proper length was prior to Harry’s fingers pushing it upwards. Her eyes dash to the ground before kicking the periwinkle lace underneath the sofa that sat directly in front of her.

Harry had managed to pull himself together, throwing a hand through his hair as he used the back of his palm along his mouth, as if finishing the best meal of his life. He had thrown himself down on the sofa, adjusting his belt so that his straining erection would be hidden.

She stayed standing behind the sofa, hands on her hips as she tried to pretend as if the conversation, they were having was routine; like they had planned to be alone for the past few moments, while the door opened to reveal her mother and a few aided members of the house to push past the door then.

“It’s absolutely preposterous—” Her mother stated to the dignitaries that followed in her path, before her eyes fell to her daughter—the Princess—with almost a look of relief, “There you are.”

The Princess reacted, but Harry could see as he sat in front of her with his legs crossed and his arms covering across his chest. He looked up at the woman in the dark green floor length gown, and others who had come in her wake.

“Sorry, I just came to, uh,” She couldn’t wrap her brain around any words that made sense as the slickness between her thighs came back into his thoughts, the way her thighs moved against one another made her entirely too aware of the whiplash that just occurred.

“She was having a bit of a panic. A prick grabbed her out in the garden welcome ceremony, and wouldn’t let go, so we just came to cool off.” Harry stated, looking up at Her Majesty, who happened to be the mother of the woman he had just furiously been giving a pleasureful tongue towards.

The knowingness of it made his heartbeat race; knowing what had happened before the doors of this room should have been felt just by the energy, but the two of them were keeping their lips shut as they tried to remain orderly.

“Oh,” The older woman nodded a few times, looking between Harry and her daughter before she pursed her lips, “Very well, then. Are you feeling a bit better?” She asked.

The girl nodded, giving a tight smile before she came around the other side of the sofa—Harry looked at her now, noticing that her hands were white knuckled as she held them behind her back. He bit the inside of his cheek before rubbing his hands down the thighs of his pants, drying the sweat from his palms.

“Yes, yes, I am, thank you,” She answered, before giving a subtle nod; her eyes made their way back to Harry. Their eye contact clicked immediately before she took in a breath and cleared her throat. The girl looked back to her mother after a moment, “Let’s go back, then. I will meet you there.”

Her Majesty gave a curt nod before she turned back towards the large doors and made her way out of them, back down towards where the gala was being held.

Harry let out a breath as he shut his eyes, almost feeling the weight coming outwardly from his chest.

“That was close.” He muttered.

He stood in his place, pushing off of the sofa before the girl tightened the ribbon on the back of her hair. He noticed that she may have not been able to see it clearly, watching her move towards the large mirror that hung against the wall. Her head tilted to be able to see behind her.

Harry moved to where she stood, his hands placing themselves on top of hers as he fixed the ribbon on the top of her head to let the strands hand down along the length of her hair—the tie now tight to keep her hair in place; the girl smiled at him in the mirror before he noticed the hazel draw of her eyes, aligning with the smirk that she sports now.

A silence fell over them, but it was almost as if they had to just go back to the duties of their dignified jobs, knowing that getting caught in the act wasn’t an option they were both able to handle. Harry grabbed the jacket from the edge of the sofa; readjusting his sleeves to normal down the throw of his arm before moving to follow the girl out of the room.

Her legs move towards the door that had been opened, Harry following hot on her lead as he found the strength of his voice, muttering a few words back at her as they trudged through the palace halls; notable faces in large paintings being the only ones to hear the filth to slide off of his tongue.

“Just know that I’m not finished,” he told her roughly, as she walked in front of him; his voice gathering right behind her as they fled out of the room and towards the main gardens that would hold the charity lunch that had been ignored prior. His hand slipped along the flat of her back as he felt the urge to hold her against him; this time in a much different way, “I want to see you tonight, back in the west wing.”

She held her shoulders back; continuing to feel his lips pressed against the inner thighs that felt bare, but obscenely voracious at the same time. “Is that an order?”

His smirk pressed against his lips as he stayed behind her; knowing that her lead was made to make him feel that she was in charge again. He knew deep down that was surely not the case.

“That is an order.”

Without her smirk seen, she nodded a few times, turning her head just a bit as the smirk wiped away from her face so he didn’t get the satisfaction of knowing he caused it.

“Very well.” She agreed, nodding softly before he stopped to look at her; noticing the way that her eyes fell towards his lips. They stood in the hall for a moment, her back towards him as he stood behind her in protective line as he had been arranged to do.

And in that moment, he urged the scent of her wildflower perfume to push through his equilibrium as he breathed out a subtle word of agreement to hers: “Very well.”

The sound of her heels echoed through his mind as he thought of the next time he’d be able to have her once again. On his terms, nonetheless.

[slydeliss]

Severus Lives, but not freely, many want his head, Voldemort's followers must say. The need of a bodyguard at every public event is humiliating but becomes a habit, Harry volunteers and becomes his most paranoic protector, the need to protect the one who cared for him so much is unbearable.

Harry means well but he really needs to stop death-staring to the Waiters...

[goldustwomun]

will we talk? (j.p.)

pairing: bodyguard! james potter x baker! reader

summary: it was only meant to be a one night stand-- a pretty fucking amazing one night stand, but one night nevertheless. so when your dad informs you of a bounty on your head and beloved bakery, you expect just about anyone in the world but james to show up as your newly appointed bodyguard. he doesn’t even fit in with the decor!

warnings: allusions to sex (minors dni!!!), swearing, mentions of a sketchy job (drugs, arms, trafficking etc. u kno the drill w/ obscure mafia stuff), very very hot james xoxo

wc: 2.9k+

note: guess who’s back! (back back) back again! (again, again). anyway, hey :) i had random lines written for this for over a year & tbfh first yr of uni was great and then shit and then really shit so i had no desire to write, but i want to try!!! i really do!!! please, <3 comment & reblog <3 it means the world to me & literally every writer out there! excited for u all to read this :)

Some might say it’s obscene to be sat at a bar, three vodka cokes down, when it was only just past 7 o’clock. The sun still stared pointedly down outside the window, streets bustling with people only just starting their commute home. And sure, any other young adult might have used this opportunity to meet some friends, have a quiet night in, maybe text that one guy on Tinder they’d been putting off meeting– something, anything to fill the awkward lull in time that wouldn’t be too much of a regret the next day.

Some might say it’s obscene, but you like to think it’s just another Tuesday.

The problem with Tuesdays is that more often than not, Wednesdays tend to follow. And it was at noon on the dot that you’d have to make your forty-minute bus ride downtown (a mistake in itself when all anyone could smell was weed, piss and something else indistinguishably rancid), into the one office building that seemed to substantially out-tower the others like some sort of architectural pissing contest, only to sit in front of your Dad and his ever-overpowering bluntness.

And it’s not like you despised him with every molecule in your body– rather, a few molecules here and there. He loved you, that you were certain of, but owing anyone money, your own father especially, made relationships uncomfortable in a sticky, sweaty, clammy-hands kind-of-way. He had always been an immovable figure, suspiciously mafia-esque, even, but of course, you’d never dare broach the subject.

So, Dad, Pa, Father dearest– are the rumours true? Do you really run an underground boxing ring? Or is it arms? Drugs, maybe? As long as it’s not human trafficking, I’ll still love you!

Some things are better left untouched. If ignorance was bliss, you were determined to remain in whatever liminal state of unknowing you’d been in your entire life.

And while he kept to himself and you did to, the last Wednesday of every month, noon on the dot, was not to be messed with. You’d learned that the hard way when you’d missed one during a particularly harrowing cold. It’d been like a SWAT team smashing through your apartment windows when you’d forced her eyes open.

So instead, you gulped down another glass of scathing liquid, all but gagging near the end at the acidic taste of un-mixed liquor swirling around the bottom of your glass.

It was Tuesday, after all, and you hoped if you drank enough, there would be a chance you’d be able to zone out tomorrow– a sweet spot you’d yet to master (somewhere between mildly hungover but still coherent enough to please him).

“What is that– your fourth? Fifth?” A voice questioned alongside a scratch of the bar stool to your left. It was deep, curious, deliciously rough– enough so that your mouth quirked behind your glass, bracing yourself for the face attached to such an addictive timbre.

“Third, actually–” you turned, finally taking in the tousled, black hair, crooked nose with rounded glasses perched on top of them, “--have you been counting?”

He had a kind of all-consuming appearance. Dark yet boyish when you noticed how his smile leaned one way, and a slight chip in his front tooth. An athlete, maybe? You were going to thank whatever misguided angel, deity or God herself had brought him to you.

You didn’t make a habit out of chatting up posh-looking lads with egos that rivalled even that of Icarus and his melting wings, but maybe just this once you’d give in– actually take what’s being offered.

“Huh– dunno why you’re sounding so smug, love. Three drinks and it’s not even dinner time. Some might call that a problem.” Almost immediately that smile of his morphed into an all-knowing smirk, a teasing gleam swimming about in those swampy hazel eyes of his.

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. “Who? Eighteen year olds having a taste of their first legal drink? Not sure three drinks add up to literal alcoholism, love,” you threw back, defensive, accompanied by that kind of uppity tone in your voice you despised hearing in others’.

His irrefutable bemusement only sharpened the knife poking away between your ribs. Your frown deepened, and so did his grin, but still, his hands flew up in mock-defence as if your words could bite back (and boy, did you wish they could).

“My bad, sweetheart, only teasing,” he assured, nodding at the bartender and then your now-empty drink. Another one, his practised movements seemed to say,

“Do you make a habit out of calling girls alcoholics and then buying them a drink?” you asked, curiosity taking over your irritation.

He shrugged and you couldn’t help but follow the movement, watching as his broad shoulders seemed to invade your space with such careless effort. “So far, just you. It’s something new I’m trying out. What do ya’ think, is it working?” Again with that boyish charm– some sort of arrogance and humility all at once.

Your head shook in an immediate no, but more so to hide the smile that had unwillingly crept onto your face. You knew, with the way things were going, that you’d give into just about anything the man offered (of which he’d not even hinted at yet, but you were just so mesmerised and maybe a little tipsy so you didn’t quite care enough to think of how desperate you may be coming off).

“‘M James, by the way,” he offered as a white flag, a surrender, if you will. You accepted by returning the formality and raising your new drink to his own– a half-empty glass of clear liquid and ice.

“What is that?” you motioned to the beverage in question, “like– 10 shots of straight vodka at once?”

He snorted, a little ugly yet somehow endearingly attractive. Fuck. “Even better, actually– water.”

“And is that new as well, to go with the accusations and drinks?”

“Oh, yeah– I’m really trying to commit to this new year, new me thing,” he bounced back effortlessly.

“It’s November,” you deadpanned, brow arched.

“So I’m either a month and a bit early, or eleven late,” he quipped. You were stunned by the easy rhythm of your back and forth, wondering in what world someone like him could exist– a paragon of a man or whatever the scholars called it. “And while that’d be a fun little story if it were the truth, ‘m actually starting a job tomorrow. Big one, as well. Figured some self-restraint was in order.”

And it was only then that you’d noticed just how little space there was between the both of you, having somehow drifted closer, closer, closer like galaxies hurtling towards each other.

You all but swallowed, staring at his drink held between you, a last barrier that seemed both momentous and insignificant. He’d got you caged in as well, an arm lazing on your backrest, near enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin, blood, maybe even his desire. And his legs, in a somewhat similar position, only a whisper away from knocking into your own.

You considered giving in right then and there, urging his mouth to yours, maybe leading him to the restroom in a grungy stall you wouldn’t otherwise go near on even your worst, most wasted nights.

“Self-restraint with the drinks only, right?” you questioned, tearing your gaze from his glass to his eyes, only to find them already fixated to you. His mouth was perched open, a glide of his tongue against his bottom lip, and the action draws you closer to that chip in his tooth you’d noticed earlier– the one that begged you closer. For inspection, a taste– whatever.

“Oh, but of course. It’s my undoing really, my Achilles Heel, my Hubris,” he seemed to murmur, his words a secret between the two of you. You felt bold then, a rush of heat pouring through your veins as your palm came to rest on the thigh closest to you.

His eyes flickered down for a moment, as if making sure it was real — that touch — before they returned to you. Waiting, watching, with bated breath.

“What is?” you asked, questioning if you’d missed a part of his sentence or if he really was striking you speechless and a little stupid with his words.

“Pretty girls with drinking problems,” and you couldn’t help the surprised laugh that burst from you. He grinned and it was pure majesty.

“Yeah?” you mumbled, inching forward.

“Oh, yeah,” he replied, sealing his mouth to yours.

It was bright, too bright in his office– like the ceiling lamps worked part-time in interrogation rooms on the weekends. As much as you needed to be alert, comprehensive, at least mildly sober– it just wasn’t going to happen.

Last night had been something else entirely– the kind of mind-blowing fuck you could only ever dream about, when nights were lonely and the left side of the bed cold for too long. Your memory was somewhat hazy, tinged red with lipstick and lovebites and kicking the duvet out of the way to reach more skin. It was scathing yet sweet and a kind of ruination you welcomed with open arms.

But it also ended abruptly when your eyes flickered open the next morning (a few hours later, more like) and he was already gone. You knew it was for the best– you barely had time for yourself, your family and friends, let alone a stranger with a quick (and skilled, in many ways) tongue and wit.

So there you were, jarred by the empty feeling seeping into your bones. And the lights (had you mentioned the lights?).

“Now, how have things been going this past month?” your Father asked in that all-business, no-nonsense way of his. You think he knows you’re hungover but like all things in your relationship, the two of you choose to ignore it.

“There haven’t been as many customers as I would have liked. The school down the road has been half empty since most of everyone is on study leave, but I–”

“I didn’t ask for excuses, only how it’s going,” he interrupted swiftly. A stabbing pain seemed to appear at the base of your skull as you conjured the remaining energy inside of you to not roll your eyes at your own Father, as well as the man you quite literally owed thousands of pounds to.

“Of course, my bad,” you bit out, taking a deep breath before continuing. “The shop wasn’t as successful as previous months but I’ve got the money here anyway so I’ll still be on track.”

He nodded, accepting your answer and the envelope you placed on his otherwise scarce desk in front of him, before he slid the money, unchecked, into his top drawer.

You sighed, hurrying your words and rushing to gather your things and be out of that dreary office, “Well, if that’s all, I’ve got some errands to run and–”

“--Actually, there’s more I need to discuss with you.” For the second time that day, he cut you off and you fell, defeated, back into the cold leather of the chair. You tilted your head in some sort of half-nod that said, go on.

With his hands clasped in front of him, a stern front if there ever was one, he continued. “As you know, my work is complicated–” (you frowned) “--complicated and expensive. And when one is dealing with the amount of money this company makes, things can get… messy.”

To say you were confused would be an understatement. An actual conversation, albeit clouded with obscurity, about his job? “And when things are messy, one tends to make enemies.”

You couldn’t help how your frown deepened, but you held back any concerns before they could make their way past the tip of your tongue. Your Dad wasn’t one to be interrupted, even if he was particularly talented at doing it to others.

“Essentially, there’s someone who’s not very happy with me–” your mouth opens finally to prod at his statement but he continues anyway, “--and despite every precaution I have taken in order to keep you safe and separate from my work, it’s unfortunately backfired this time around. And so, for your safety, I’ve hired a bodyguard to watch over you for at least the next few months.”

He finished and then there was a resolute silence hanging over you as you took in his words.

You couldn’t help it– you burst out laughing.

“Dad, you’re not– I mean–” the sentence barely made its way out of your mouth before you were overcome with a fit of nervous giggles once more. This is absurd. “You’re not being serious, you can’t be. Right?”

Silence.

Oh.

So that’s when the panic set in, your fingers clutching the armrest on either side of you until your knuckles were white. “Holy fucking–”

“Language,” he scolded with no particular bite and you couldn’t help but scoff,

“Language? Seriously, language. That’s all you have to say. You’ve just told me there’s some kind of bounty on my head and that I need a bodyguard– like, a person to follow me around, twenty four-seven, and carrying a gun or some shit– but all you can think to say to me is fucking language?!” Your breath came out in quick pants, jumping to your feet as you paced the office.

This must be a joke, you thought incredulously. You can’t have some stranger following you around. You had a business to run, croissants to sell, debt to pay off! Who could possibly–

And somehow it got worse.

He walked in and the two of your gazes connecting immediately, like magnets (though this time in a completely different context with your own Father as a member of the audience). You could see, from your place by the window, how his irises grew imperceptibly wider for barely a second as the recognition set in.

“No. No, no, no,” you blurted out immediately, mouth still wide from shock and suddenly you questioned whether your rapid heartbeat was a surprise or something close to a heart attack. Oddly, you’d have preferred the latter.

“Sweetheart,” he had pulled out the big guns now, “this is James Potter.”

“Dad—” you tried and failed to interrupt.

“Don’t worry about the logistics, I’ve sorted it all out. I’ve already rented the apartment next to yours so that he’s nearby at all times. He’ll need to be hired as an employee at your bakery– you know, for appearances sake— but don’t worry about the cost, i’ve got it covered.” Your mouth opened and closed, gaping like a fish out of water.

“And most importantly, he is not to leave your side. Ever.” He said it with ease like he hadn’t just informed you that your one night stand had turned into your shadow for the foreseeable future.

James had yet to say anything, his face a facade you wished you could slap off in that moment. Instead, he stood stalk still, arms poised behind him like some sycophantic robot ready to do whatever your Father pleased.

“He can’t be my bodyguard, Dad,” you urged, rushing to his desk, palms slamming down in front of him.

His response was a raised brow (you shared that in common). “And why’s that?”

It’s like you could hear James’ heart skip a beat, probably because yours had as well. You couldn’t tell him the real reason– that’d be a death wish, for the pair of you, if there ever was one.

“It’s just– he’s too big!” James didn’t smile, not outwardly, but you could see it in his eyes when you glanced his way. “I mean, he’s scary or whatever. He won’t fit in with the decor and it’ll scare away the customers,” you reasoned.

He finally spoke and it was then that you truly did consider walking over and slapping him across his stupid, gorgeous face. “What customers?”

You scoffed, whipping your head towards him. “Oh, screw you!”

James looked as if he were going to bite back, mouth poised for a reaponse, but your Dad cut in to save the two of you from outting yourselves.

“That’s enough. This isn’t up for discussion. James is your bodyguard and you’ll have no say in the matter.”

You deflated immediately, collapsing into the same chair you’d sat in, clueless, earlier.

So much for one night.

comment & reblog :)) if u have any ideas for the next chapters do lmk!!! woo!!

[empress-simps]

Close To Me

Pairing: Bodyguard! Marauders x Fem! Reader, Bodyguard! Sirius x Fem! Reader AU: Bodyguard AU / Muggle AU CW: Reader getting kidnapped. Sirius getting injured. Note: This might be the longest one shot I have written so far, this is also my first time writing an action-ish fic? So please do keep it in mind, some parts may be inaccurate.. I also published this at 12 midnight lol. Enjoy!(2.5k words)

You always thought it was a tad bit excessive.

Being the sole heir to a vast family fortune meant that you had the finest thing you could ever want in your life; it also meant that you had the finest protection. Your father handpicked every staff member that was assigned to protect and care for you- going as far as doing not just a background check on them, but also their entire family. Doing a bunch of psychology and loyalty tests were also a must so it was rest assured that they would do their job.

Having one bodyguard? Understandable. Two? Oh, alright just some precautions. Three? That sounds... very safe. Four? Now, that's where you draw the line.

Sure, being born with a golden spoon is great- wonderful, even; but you felt like you were trapped.

You wanted to live life like any other normal human being, away from assassination or kidnapping attempts that were made in your life. So, mustering up every courage you have, you stormed into your father’s study to try and persuade him to just at least assign one to watch over you.

It was expected, you failed.

Now you were stuck with four goofballs bodyguards who would protect you with their life.

James Potter- the strategist. He could sense danger from miles away and best believe that a safe escape plan for you was already formulated if ever things went south.

Remus Lupin- the mediator. He has the ability to appear calm and composed even in the face of danger. Remus saved you more than once just from his voice and words.

Peter Pettigrew- the tech wizard. He’s the one responsible for surveillance, turning any kind of technology into a means of protecting you.

And then there was Sirius Black, the jack of all trades. When your father chose the top candidate, it was him. He was an exceptionally skilled fighter, good with weapons, fast and light reflexes, can speak multiple languages (mainly French), and over all just a well-rounded protector.

Being born into a family with a long tradition and a reputation for producing some of the best security experts in the muggle world, Sirius stood out like a sore thumb. He was the black sheep who defied family expectations. His family's company, BlackGuard Security, was known for its merciless efficiency and rigid standards.

His abilities were evident. Succeeded in every training program he participated in, frequently outperforming his peers with fast thinking and adaptability. Your father noticed Sirius's unconventional approach to security and saw potential in his abilities. When he was assigned to be your bodyguard, he took it as an opportunity to show himself beyond the shadow of his family's legacy.

Sirius is your shadow. He’s never more than a few paces behind. But it wasn’t just duty that kept him so close; it’s the quiet and unspoken bond that had formed between you two throughout the years. A bond that went beyond the call of duty, beyond the formalities. Which he desperately tries to deny.

“Good morning, Remmy!”

You beamed, smiling as you opened the door of your bedroom to see the tall man standing outside, on watch.

It’s still a mystery to you how he looks so put together with his neat hair, suit, and the signature earpiece in his ear even though it’s still 7:00 in the morning.

“Good morning, Miss.” He smiles, closing the door behind you as you headed towards the grand staircase, Remus following a step behind.

“I rarely see you during mornings,” You comment, going down the stairs to grab breakfast.

“James had some matters to attend to, Miss.” He answered, offering a small and polite smile. You hummed, “It’s alright. I like your company, Remmy. Jamie can get a tad bit enthusiastic in mornings.” You laugh, as Remus looks at you.

“Don’t let him hear that or he might just throw a fit.” He chuckled.

“He’s James, it’s normal.” You grinned, seeing the familiar long black-haired guy talking quietly in his earpiece.

“Morning, Sirius!” You waved at him; his piercing grey eyes looked in your direction. “Good morning, Y/n.” he smiled, then went back to talking in his earpiece.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t a bit bummed that you don’t have his undivided attention, Remus noticed this and raised his eyebrow, smiling to himself.

Taking a seat at the rather large dining table, you couldn't help but sigh. Remus decided to tease you a bit, "Were you expecting more from Padfoot?" He smiles, chuckling at the way you desperately try to hide the blush on your cheeks.

"What?! No! I was just pre-occupied with other things!"

Remus doesn't believe it when your eyes wandered in the direction of Sirius who was still talking into the earpiece. "No prongs, she has an event she needs to attend in the evening." You heard him talking to what you can assume is James from the other line.

The scent of breakfast wafted through the air, making your stomach growl as the staff placed the dishes and arranged the silverware for you.

"Would you like some, Remmy?"

"No thank you, miss. I already ate."

As you ate a piece of your breakfast, you looked up to Remus. "Anything interesting stuff for today?"

"I'm afraid today will be quite normal, miss. Just a charity ball your family would attend hosted by the Malfoy family."

You frowned. It's not like you hate the Malfoys, you just don't like how they're trying to set you up with their son, Lucius Malfoy, when it was clear that he is infatuated with his mother's bodyguard- Narcissa Black.

"Do I really have to go?" You complained,

"Prongs already picked up your dress for later, Y/n." Sirius suddenly spoke up, and standing beside Remus. You huffed, already feeling tired.

“Maybe I’ll just sneak out again-“

“No can do, Y/n!” James appeared out of nowhere, his famous grin plastered on his face, Peter trailing behind him, tinkering with what seems to be a mini remote of some sort.

You crossed your arms, eyebrows raised. “And why would that be, Mr. Potter?”

“Because your escort would be Malfoy.” he grumbles, clearly not liking the idea and the dude.

“I beg your pardon?”

You tried not to roll your eyes, keyword, tried. Remus clears his throat, trying to mask his surprise. Sirius felt his eye twitch.

What if something happens at the ball? Sirius is the most capable one of protecting you from danger, sorrynotsorry.

“But!” James blurts, “We’d still attend the ball, not just that close to you.”

“Like that’s any better.”

James frowns, “Sorry. The Malfoys actually don’t even want us to attend and guard you. Your father insisted, telling them you won’t attend the ball without us.” He says, taking a seat beside you despite Remus’ warning glances directed at him.

“Just what do they want…?” Sirius mumbles to himself, already getting highly suspicious of Lucius and his family. (Not because of the fact that you’re about to get arranged to the Malfoy heir, no not at all.)

“They’re probably just annoyed, Lucius really can’t make a move on Y/n with us around.” James said, grabbing a handful of grapes and popping them onto his mouth, making you chuckle as you pushed the bowl closer to him.

“Alright, looking good Y/n!” James grinned, seeing you come down the grand staircase dressed in a red lavish gown with a gold accent.

Sirius felt his heart stop.

There was just something about you that makes his heart beat a little faster, time freezing, and the unusual flips his stomach did when he sees you.

Fuck— you were absolutely breathtaking.

You twirled, making your boys smile and compliment you, but Sirius just stood there, not reacting.

“Do I look presentable, Siri?”

You asked, trying to pass it off as a joke but they know damn well you were serious as you fiddled with a random lace in your dress. Not like Sirius noticed it, no, he was transfixed to your beauty.

“Beautiful.”

That was all you needed to hear.

“Mr. Malfoy, good evening.”

Lucius smiled slightly, taking your hand, and kissing it. “The night could not compare to your beauty, Y/n.”

It took every single fiber of Sirius’ being to not punch Lucius square in the face. How dare he flirt with you when he’s secretly dating his cousin?

You smiled politely, even though all you wanted to do is to stay a good couple of feet away from him. “You flatter me, Mr. Malfoy.”

“I am just stating facts, Y/n.” He offered his arm to you, “Shall we?”

Right. Might as well get over it.

Linking your arm with his, you nodded. “We shall.”

The boys instantly knew there was something off as soon as they stepped inside the venue.

James kept twisting the ring on his pinky finger, already thinking of numerous escape plans for different situations. Peter was on his phone, eyebrows furrowing as he checked and tries to figure out why he can't access some surveillance cameras in the venue. Sirius was on high alert, nothing could go unnoticed, he knows who approached you, how long you've spoken to them, the food that you consumed, and how that stupid Lucius kissed your hand, and interacted with you.

Remus also was alert, but one thing that made the alarms go off inside his head was the four suspicious men dressed in tuxedos quietly slipped inside the venue without getting noticed.

"Marauders, two o'clock. Four men, nearing darling's area quick." He told in the comms, eyes never leaving the four figures.

"Copy, Moony. Wormtail, any news?" Remus' earpiece was filled with James' voice. "Negative. Still trying to access." Out of the corner of his eye, Remus can see Sirius slowly inching to your direction. "Padfoot, do not engage. Wait it out." Remus heard James order Sirius, "I won't." he grunts.

That was when hell broke loose.

With lightning reflexes, one of the men pulled out a pistol and shot the large crystal chandelier causing it to fall and crash to the ground, breaking into thousands of tiny pieces. It was pure chaos, people were trying to rush out of the exits, chairs and tables were turned as they pushed through.

Sirius felt his blood run cold.

He was in autopilot, he dodged a panicked guest and leaped over fallen chairs, all while keeping his eyes on you. He cannot afford for the men to reach you before he does.

Luck was not on his side today.

He quickly closed the distance between both of you. He was your protector; he swore on his life he would protect you. Sirius would even sacrifice his life if it meant that you would be safe. He would do anything for you.

It was proven it wasn't enough when one of the men grabbed your arm, dragging you towards a hidden exit while Lucius Malfoy was escorted by the others.

"Fuck!" He yelled, as one of Malfoy's henchmen shot him in the shoulder to prevent him from going after you.

"Prongs! They have her!" They could all hear his anguished voice through the comms. Remus runs over to Sirius from where he was stationed, "Padfoot, you're injured-"

"I don't care!" He yells at his friend, "We need to fucking find her!"

"Wormtail, you better have the damn access already or I'll skin you alive!" Sirius barks angrily, talking to his comms as he fought the rest of the men with Remus helping him. "I'm in, but it's too late. They jammed the signals earlier and destroyed footages. Go to the exit, you'll see a motorbike on your left-" Sirius doesn't need to be told twice, he did what Peter told him and mounted the motorcycle, Remus quickly joining him.

"Can you see the black car ahead of you? That's them." Peter told him. Sirius was focusing on chasing the damn vehicle, so Remus answered on his behalf.

"Yeah, we're closing in. Prongs, what's your status?"

"Backsup are on their way, they'll be right behind you in 2 minutes."

Sirius felt the distant throb in his shoulder, the warm blood seeping through made his dress shirt clung onto him, but he paid it no mind.

"Keep your eyes on the road, Padfoot!" Remus reminds him as they narrowly missed an incoming truck. Sirius only nodded in reply as he grips the motorcycle tightly, weaving through the traffic and desperately trying to reach the speedy vehicle you're in.

"We're gaining on them!" Remus updates, seeing the familiar back up vehicles approaching, "Back up's near."

"Do not engage until the back ups arrive." James told them in a calm and commanding tone.

Of course.

Sirius will always be Sirius. When had he ever listened to Prongs' orders?

He is driven by his instinct, which is currently screaming at him to attack right then and there. As they neared an intersection, an opportunity was presented to him. He would be a fucking idiot to ignore it. With a calculated risk, he accelerated, effectively pulling alongside the car.

Remus sighs, already knowing his friend's thoughts and getting ready.

"Now, Moony!" Remus, who's on cue, leaned out and desperately tried to reach the car's door handle, and with a few tries, he managed to open it succesfully making him grapple with a man inside.

The car swerves, tires screeching but Sirius kept his pace. He can see you struggling with your captors, and he can hear the backup seconds away. He couldn't wait, every second counts, anything could happen.

"Hang on!" Sirius shouts, with a burst of speed, the backup cars sandwiched the car with you inside, forcing it to halt. Sirius and Remus dismounted the motorbike, guns drawn.

"It's either you release her, or I'll kill all of you and blondie." He growls, referring to Lucius Malfoy who is also inside the car.

The situation was tense, but the arrival of their team shifted the balance. The henchmen, overwhelmed and outgunned, let you go, their plan thwarted. Keeping the Malfoy Heir safe is their top priority.

Dust settled down, and the other staff handled the situation, wrapping it up. Sirius stormy grey eyes met yours in the midst of chaos. His shoulder stung, a reminder of the events that had happened tonight, although it paled in comparison to the concern etched in his face as he rushes to you.

"You're not hurt, are you?" His voice was barely above a whisper as he scanned your form. Your eyes found its way on his injury, "No, I'm alright. But Sirius, you're hurt."

Sirius exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and the world seems to slow down. "I'll live, darling. The important thing is that you're safe."

The sirens, flashing lights, and the buzz all seemed to fade out into the background as you stared into his eyes. Taking your hand in his, he placed it to his lips, pressing a kiss, his gaze never leaving yours.

"I was so afraid I'd lose you," he admitted, the vulnerability in his voice unlike anything you'd heard before. Sirius hugged you tightly, feeling him press a kiss against your hair as you leaned to his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart.

"You'll never lose me. Never in a million years, how could you when you're always close to me?"

[kat-xox]

you know what james potter needs?

more blood.

[watchmegetobsessed]

BULLETPROOF

A/N: *screams in excitement* its here!!! its finally here!!! im so happy i finally got to finish a longer fic without hitting rockbottom with it. this one was very easy to write, i think i was heavily inspired by the night agent series on netflix lol now im very excited for yall to read it!!

WORD COUNT: 12.5k

WARNING: gun use, getting shot, blood, stalking, bullying

SUMMARY: Being Eroda's first daughter is not all sunshine and rainbows. It's tough out there when people are so fast to judge you and turn their back on you. But there is one person who's been there for you all along. Your bodyguard, Harry.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

The wine is nice. The salad is tragic, probably the worst you’ve ever had. You wonder how dessert will turn out to be, could be good or poisonous at this point.

The company?

Well, at least he is not staring at your breasts.

Going out with Jaiden sounded a lot more fun when he asked you out in the library, but now that you’ve been listening to him speak for the past thirty-two minutes, you’re counting it, he appears to be just another douche who wants to brag about you at the next frat party. He probably thinks he is doing well and he might get lucky once you leave the restaurant, but there are two reasons why that won’t happen.

One, you spotted some tomato sauce on his left hand before he left to the restroom and when he came back it was still there, he did not wash his hands and then touched the garlic bread. You’ve pushed the basket out of your view discreetly after that. It’s already a very strong point, but the second one is the real deal.

There is absolutely no way the three agents, one by the door, one by the window and one at two tables from you would be okay with assisting to your hookup. Well, it’s not that they would have a choice, if you think of it. But think about it: even if he weren’t a pig, this is how it would go.

Arriving to Jaiden’s building you would be told to wait outside with Morrison, while Jackson and Styles go up and check out Jaiden’s place. Then they would come down to get you. If the mood weren’t dead by this point, you’d have to go up and start the action with one agent down in front of the building, one by the front door and then the worst, you just know Styles would stand by the bedroom door like a statue, listening closely to everything happening inside.

Then when it would be over you’d have to leave with the three men around you and return to your place. Madness. Pure comedy.

“What do you think?”

Jaiden’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts about the ridiculous daydream of tonight and you realize you have no idea what he’s been talking about in the last seven minutes.

“Um, sorry?” you clear your throat, reaching for the wine.

“I was asking you about how…”

You look over his shoulder and spot Styles through the glass door, zoning out of the conversation in record time.

He is wearing civil clothes, all three of the agents are, that was the deal when you’re out somewhere, with friends or on a date which happen once in a leap year, to be honest. He’s wearing a black t-shirt with a black bomber jacket over, simple, dark jeans and trainers. You wonder if this is actually his style, if this is how he dresses when he is not on duty, when he is running errands or meeting up with his friends for drinks. You only see him when he is responsible for protecting you at all cost, he’s been head of your security team for the past two years and it’s been a rollercoaster of a ride.

He was a real pain in the ass at the beginning, he would jump at every possible noise, he dragged you out of class once because someone’s pen clicked louder than the usual. Fuck, you lost count of the times you screamed at him, asking what was his problem, if he lost his mind and every time he just stood there, like a fucking rock and then just nodded at the end and carried on with his nonsense.

It took some time and lots of communication to find balance. You realized he would never listen to you when you’re screaming from the top of your lungs and you had to accept that he is just doing his job. So you sat down with him and your father, the president of Eroda to talk about boundaries.

Things have been better since then and the two of you actually work well together. Most of the times.

He was next to you at every major event, ups and downs, he drove you home after you confronted your last serious boyfriend about how he cheated on you with three different girls, you sobbed like a baby and couldn’t even open the lock on your front door. He took the keys gently from your hand and did it for you. When you woke up in the morning the fridge was stocked with your favorites. You never asked, but you know he did it.

He has attended concerts and parties with you, shadowing you even when you had to get tampons in the middle of the night. You bet he knows what brand and size you use too at this point. As much as he’d gotten on your nerves millions of times… you like the guy. He is straight forward, always speaks his mind if asked, he sees things in a very rational way. He’s ambitious and hard-working and most of all, trustworthy.

He might actually be your best friend.

How tragic, you consider your head of security to be your best friend! This must be the end here…

“You’re really not listening, are you?” Jaiden laughs, but it’s dry, he looks pissed when you look back at him.

“Sorry, it’s been… a long week. And honestly, I kind of lost interest when you started talking about football, since I know nothing about it.”

“Wow, okay, so what were you expecting? Brainstorming about possible ways to stop the climate change?” he scoffs and you actually think about just standing up and leaving.

“No, but on a date you usually talk about things you both like. I guess we have nothing in common, then. So why don’t we—“

“You really know how to make people feel stupid.”

“Excuse me?” Your eyebrows shoot up, this is getting interesting.

“Just because daddy runs the country, doesn’t mean you’re above us all. Don’t have to be such a snob.”

“Oh, it wasn’t even me being a snob,” you retort with a forced smile as you grab your bag from the table and from the corner of your eyes you already see the agents moving. “It’s been a lovely evening, but I think we’re better as… I would say friends, but it wouldn’t be true. Bye, Jaiden.”

You stand and plan to march past him to meet Morrison and Jackson to head out, but Jaiden is not done, it seems. He jumps to his feet and his hand grabs your upper arm, pulling you back. He barely just opens his mouth when Hell breaks loose.

Morrison is first to get his hands on him, yanking him away from you while Jackson tears his hand off you, then it gets twisted behind him and Styles arrives, smacking your date up against the wall.

The whole restaurant is staring at you and you just want the ground to open beneath you.

You stop at your front door out of instinct, already knowing they have to sweep through the place before you could enter. Styles stands beside you and waits for Morrison and Jackson to return. When it’s confirmed you walk in, a blank look on your face.

“Have a nice night, guys. Thank you for tonight,” you tell them in a robotic voice. Morrison and Jackson says good night and you hear the door closing, but you know you’re not alone.

Styles stands by the door and you can feel him watching your every move as you put your heels away and take your earrings out.

“Are you gonna give me a lecture about choosing guys more wisely?” you ask, finally facing him. He’s standing with his hands clasped together at the front, his usual pose, but it’s a bit odd without his usual suit.

“No,” he answers shortly and you wait for him to say whatever is on his mind. “Just wanted to ask if you’re alright.”

“My arm is fine, you don’t ha—“

“I wasn’t asking about your arm.”

You stare back at him in silence, everything just dawns on you all at once and your chest feels like burning.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you breathe out, but then a tear rolls down your face.

You see the change in him instantly. His eyes soften as he walks over to you, his gaze frantically searching your face, probably trying to figure out what to do. They don’t tell agents how to deal with young, crying women who feel like they are going to die alone.

“I’m fine, really,” you say again and he pulls out a tissue from his pocket, handing it over to you.

“He was a douche. Don’t take it too seriously.”

“How many disastrous dates have I been on in the past year?” you ask with a shaking voice. He doesn’t answer, just clenches his jaw. “You know damn well that it was my eleventh. You were there at all of them. I can’t help but start to think that something must be wrong with me and not with them.”

“Nothing is wrong with you. They were… weird guys. They were the problem, not you.”

“So then it’s just my taste that’s trash, right?” you let out a bitter laugh, hoping that making fun of yourself would help, but it doesn’t. It never does.

“Finding the right person is hard. You have to give it time.”

“I’m impatient, if you haven’t noticed.”

“I have. The first day I met you.”

There it is.

That teeny tiny smile that barely just curls up the corners of his mouth but it drives you insane. Because it’s so rare, it’s so intimate and every time you see it the urge to kiss it gets harder and harder.

Yes, it’s such a cliché, but you do have a crush on your bodyguard. You fought it, you really did, but one day you had to realize there’s nothing you can do about it. Now you’re just trying to live with it but moments like this make it really hard not to overstep certain boundaries. For one, you really shouldn’t have feelings for someone whose job is to protect your life at all cost. Your father would have a heart attack if he found out you’re hooking up with an agent. And two… he might be nice to you, a real friend, but you feel like there’s no way he would ever feel the same way about you. Hell, sometimes, on your worse days you even question his friendship. What if it’s all just the job for him? To take care of your fragile little soul?

You’re awfully lonely.

“Get some rest, you have an 8 am class in the morning.”

He steps back and the smile is gone just like that.

“Yes sir!” you salute him, to which you just get a bored look before he takes one last look around and walks out to check in with the night shift agents outside your door.

You’d rather spend this Saturday evening locked up in your bedroom, watching Criminal Minds and eating popcorn, but tonight is one of those occasions where you have to make an official appearance as the president’s daughter.

You’ve definitely woken up on the wrong side of the bed, nothing went as you planned so far and you even had a fight with Styles because he ended your morning run earlier when a group of obnoxious fratboys appeared on the football field next to the running track and they accidentally threw a ball in your way.

You have not talked to him since, haven’t even seen him, but you know for a fact he will be coming with you tonight. He is there at every official event, never missing one.

There’s a soft knock on the front door just when you’ve finished getting dressed. You shuffle over to the door and opening you find yourself facing Styles in his usual suit, a change from the workout clothes he wore in the morning.

Fuck, you want to act grumpy still, but he looks especially good with slightly more tamed than usually and he is freshly shaven.

“Ready to go?” he asks.

“Not yet. Come and help me, please,” you say as you turn around, but you notice he is not following you. “Come on, I won’t bite your head off.”

With a tiny frown he finally moves and follows you into your bedroom where you grab the diamond necklace you want to wear tonight.

“Can you put it on, please?”

He takes the necklace, holding it so gently, you have never seen him handle something with so much care.

Maybe only you.

You turn around and hold your hair up as he reaches around your neck and you bit back a moan when his fingers brush against your collarbone. He fidgets with the clasp for a few moments before taking a step back once it’s done.

“Do you think I can make an early Irish exit tonight?” you ask, stepping into your heels and he offers you a hand that you gladly take to help the process. Once you’re done you head out, Styles following you right behind.

“Don’t think the president would appreciate it.”

“Oh, I know him well, I think I can have a pass from him.”

It’s another event where you feel absolutely useless, you’re just there so your father could show off.

“…And this is my daughter, Y/N. She is studying law!... She is top of her class, yes… Isn’t she a lovely young woman?...”

The smile on your face starts to hurt when you decide to take a break from all the guests that you know nothing about but they all seem to be very familiar with you.

“I’m gonna go out for a bit,” you tell Styles who’s been your shadow all night, three other agents watching your every step as well from different points of the room.

“Let me che—“

“I think there’s no danger out on the balcony, everyone has been thoroughly checked here, I’ll be fine for five minutes.”

You have a staring match for a minute where he weighs in on your words before finally nodding.

“Five minutes,” he says, opening the door for you.

“Start the fucking clock,” you mumble under your breath.

As you stand by the railing, staring out into the night you feel more deflated than ever. Like you’ve lost every ounce of energy and the urge to just scream is quite tempting. This is not the life you dreamed of, but it is what your father always wanted and you sometimes feel like a terrible daughter for being so displeased. You do have privileges others would never get to experience, but you’ve never felt lonelier and more out of place. The way here showed you how shallow your friendships have been, now only have about three people you consider your friend and one is your bodyguard, one is studying in Switzerland and the third is… Wait, there’s no third. That’s it, you have two friends.

You hear Styles stepping closer and you already know what he is about to say.

“I know my time is up, but if you dare to remind me, I’m pushing you off this balcony.”

Turning around you face him, ready to fight him for some more time, but you’re surprised to see him with that tiny smile on his face.

“You’re really moody today,” he states, but it’s not one of those smartass comments he usually makes, he is teasing you.

“Surprising?”

“A little bit. Are you… Are you still upset about your date?” His face turns serious.

“I was never upset about the date specifically. I was upset because… Whatever, it doesn’t matter.”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“Stop being so fucking polite,” you groan.

“I can’t be rude to you, I would lose my job.”

“You’ve been rude to me on several occasions! Especially at the beginning!” you accuse him.

“I was never rude. I was honest.”

“Jesus, you are so annoying,” you roll your eyes that earns a smirk from him.

“That’s not my job, but I tend to be that often.”

“I might be moody, but you’re awfully cheeky tonight. What’s gotten into you?”

You head back inside, Styles following you.

“Don’t know, guess I’m just in a good mood.”

“Alright, then I’ll need a drink to put up with this new side of yours.”

And that’s what you did, but you didn’t stop at one drink. You didn’t plan to, but you successfully got so drunk Styles had to rescue you out of the venue before your father saw you. After all, you did make an Irish exit.

In the car you can tell Harry is not in the same good mood, he looks rather pissed as he drives you back home, constantly checking the mirrors to see if Morrison and Jackson are behind you.

“Aw, did I make your job harder?” you pout, but then start laughing as you look at his hard stare. His profile looks annoyingly beautiful and you just want to draw the slope of his nose with your finger.

“No, but it would have been nice if I didn’t have to bring you out through the back door on my shoulder, because you kept running away.”

You start laughing as he recites what happened just about fifteen minutes ago when he was trying to chase you down to get you into the car and away from anyone that could ruin your father’s political career if they saw his daughter running around drunk.

“Don’t be so pissed, your eyebrows will glue together one day, you pull the together way too much,” you snort out a laugh as you slide lower in your seat.

It’s an hour long drive and of course, you fall asleep soon. When you open your eyes next, you see that you’re already in the garage of your building.

“Come on, you need to get to bed.” Styles opens the car door, but you’re still half drunk and half asleep, so you just mumble something and close your eyes back. “Y/N, you can’t spend the night in the car.”

“Says who?” you breathe out.

For a few seconds nothing happens and you start drifting back to sleep when you feel an arm behind your back and one under your knees. You faintly realize that you’re being carried up to your apartment and when you force yourself to open your eyes, you realize that it’s Styles.

“Mm, is this also in your job description?” you groggily tease him, barely able to keep your eyes open. “Mr. Styles. Harry. Can I… call you that?”

“Call me whatever you want,” he answers and then waits in front of the apartment while it’s checked out. With the last bits of your energy you study his face that’s now dangerously up close. He is carrying you like you weigh nothing, his strong hold keeping you safe.

“Oh, don’t tell me stuff like that,” you chuckle, your eyes closing as you push down a yawn. You hear the agents coming out of your apartment, saying it’s clear before Harry starts walking again and a few moments later you’re laid down on your bed.

“You have to change, Y/N,” he tells you, pulling your heels off your sore feet. Groaning, you sit up and he helps you up to a standing position before turning around to walk out, but you stop him, pulling him back by his hand.

“I can’t get this off alone,” you say, nodding down at your dress. You catch the hesitation in his eyes as he weighs in the situation and steps back at last.

You turn around and move your hair so he can access the zipper. He doesn’t move instantly and you’re almost about to turn around when you finally feel his touch on your back. He places one hand to your shoulder blade, holding the dress in place while he pulls the zipper down with the other.

Slowly.

So slowly, it’s almost like foreplay.

Especially since you have no bra underneath, so the lower he gets the more skin he is able to see. The silky dress loosens around your body and you know he is looking at your bare back. With one hand you keep the dress to your chest, but the other one lets go of your hair as you turn back around to face him. 

The alcohol is working eagerly in your system and you’re feeling blunt and risky as you hold your chin high with a half smirk.

“Where did your cheekiness go, Harry?”

“I’m gonna go now.” He gulps hard as he backs away towards the door, but you follow him.

“Am I that scary? That you’re running away?”

“Y/N, stop.” He looks into your eyes as he finally stops and his green irises appear dangerously dark as he stares back at you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you shrug innocently as you keep walking towards him until you’re just inches away from his chest. “Have you never thought of me like that?”

He doesn’t answer, but you don’t see disgust on his face and it’s enough for you to keep pushing.

“Because I have. Several times. On nights when I knew you were outside and then other times when I didn’t know where you were but I was hoping you were thinking of me.”

He is still completely silent, though his eyes are throwing fireworks your way when one of the straps of your dress slips down your shoulder.

“I want you and I want you to want me too, Harry,” you whisper as you move even closer, your hand that’s holding your dress pushing to his chest while the other moves up to the base of his neck. His skin is burning and you’re desperate to feel it underneath his crispy dress shirt too. 

But before you could close the gap, he pulls back and it’s like a slap across your face.

“Go to bed, Y/N. You need to sleep.”

“But think about it, you could brag about fucking the president’s daughter, wouldn’t you want that? You’d be the man, Harry.”

Your words are like venom as you look at him, your chest heaving, your heart hammering under your hand. 

“Stop talking before you say something you might regret,” he warns you.

“So you’re not man enough to fuck me? How should I trust you with my life then if you can’t even make me come?” you call after him when he is already out of the bedroom.

He freezes and the words sink in as you stare at the back of his head. You expect him to turn around and lecture you, to tell you how cheap you sounded, but instead he just walks out of the apartment and leaves you to your spiraling, drunk thoughts.

You realize you never actually knew panic and terror until you wake up the next morning, realizing what you did last night. That you have to face Harry after you almost begged him to fuck you and then said he is not man enough to be your guard because he didn’t have sex with you.

You have an afternoon yoga class on Sunday that you very much consider canceling on just so you don’t have to face Harry, but you can’t hide in your apartment forever, you’d have to meet him again sooner or later. So when it’s time for you to leave and you hear the knock on your door you open it with shaking hands, relief washing over you instantly when you find DeLuca standing in front of you, no trace of Harry.

That means you have some more time to figure out how to deal with the situation you got yourself into. Yoga actually helps you find some peace of mind, but only until you leave and catch on Jackson’s radio before getting into the car, Harry’s voice asking for a report.

He is working and he’ll be at your apartment, meaning that you have to go through the most awkward situation ever in about fifteen minutes. 

It all happens as if you were in a movie. Arriving at the garage Jackson opens the door for you, DeLuca rounds the car and right at that moment the doors to the elevator swing open and Harry walks out with two other agents. Your mouth goes dry and you’re getting ready to fake your death, but things take a turn then.

“DeLuca, take her to the second floor, it’s been cleared. Jackson, Morrow, come with us.” Harry instructs the agents and you realize something is wrong.

“What? What’s happening?” 

There’s an apartment on the second floor for the agents, like their own little headquarter and it’s usually the safe place they take you to whenever something looks suspicious. Harry looks at you, worry etched onto his face as he places a hand to your back and leads you over to DeLuca.

“There’s been a security alert while you were away, we need to check the whole building.”

“Alert? What kind?” 

“Someone tried to get into your place,” is all he says before he passes you over to DeLuca and disappears with the other agents.

The time you spend on the second floor feels like forever, but it’s actually only twelve minutes. They sweep through the whole building and check the system, trying to find out what happened, but the cameras only caught a man in a black hoodie who stopped at your door, fidgeted with the lock for a while but couldn’t get in so he left. When it’s safe for you to return to your own place you’re walked back by two agents, but the tension is still thick. 

You hear Harry doubling the agents for the rest of the day and night and he checks your apartment one last time himself again when his phone rings and you know it’s your dad calling from the tone he answers the call.

“Yes, sir. Passing the phone over,” Harry says after the briefing of the situation and then holds the phone out to you.

“Dad?”

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I wasn’t here.”

“Alright. We’ll have some extra agents around you for a while. I know you don’t like the guardedam, but we have to do it until we find out who it was.”

“Okay.”

You talk a little more and then you give the phone back to Harry, because your dad wants to have a few words with him. He listens carefully for a while and then walks out of the apartment, leaving you wondering what else there could be, but your dad could be a little too overprotective, so you’re sure he is just fussing about the situation.

You’ve just finished making yourself a cup of tea when Harry returns. He would never admit it, but you can tell this incident is stressing him out. 

“Everything alright with my dad? He didn’t tell you off or anything, right?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “But you won’t like what I’m going to say. You need to have an agent in here with you until we get to the bottom of this situation.”

“Will it be you?” The question rolls off your tongue before you could even think about it. 

“If you want me, yes.”

“I feel the safest with you.”

It’s the truth. Even though the things you told him, screamed at him, don’t agree, he is still the one you trust the most around here to have in your apartment with you.

“Okay,” he nods. “I have to talk to the team, so–”

“Wait!” you stop him from leaving, knowing well you need to have this conversation. Swallowing hard you leave the tea on the kitchen counter and round the island to get closer to him, but still keep some distance. “I want to… I want to apologize for last night. My behavior was… Unforgivable.”

“No need to apologize.”

“Don’t bullshit me,” you give him a hard look. “I had too much to drink, I didn’t… I wasn’t thinking. So… I’m sorry.”

He stares back at you for seconds that feel like forever before he finally nods and you know it’s not just a meaningless reaction to get you out of his hair.

“Okay.”

“We’re… we’re good?”

“Yes. But I really need to go now.”

“Alright,” you clear your throat as you watch him walk towards the door, but he turns back one last time. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Okay.”

And with that, he is off to do his job.

You spend the rest of Sunday studying and you get so focused on your textbooks and notes that you totally forget about Harry’s return and you don’t even notice it. So when you wander out of your bedroom after your brain has been fried from everything you studied, you almost scream when you see Harry standing in the living room by the window.

“Holy shit!” you snap a hand to your chest to calm your racing heart.

“What happened?” He moves fast like a cat, instantly checking the room for possible dangers.

“Nothing happened, I just… forgot you’d be here,” you admit with a soft chuckle as you head out to the kitchen. “It’s kind of creepy how you’re just standing there.”

“I can see the street from here as well,” he answers, as if it was such an obvious thing to say.

As you move around the kitchen, heating some leftovers up you catch him looking at you, or to be more precise, your legs that are almost completely bare thanks to the cotton shorts you’re wearing. 

Last night was a disaster, but now that the shame has settled in you, something else has been lingering in the back of your mind. The sense of hesitation you experienced when you were trying to seduce him embarrassing yourself has been on your mind. How he didn’t move away instantly, how it looked like he was fighting himself, so it gives you the idea that a tiny part of him does look at you the same way you look at him. 

The way he is looking you up is another boost to the theory. 

“Any news about the intruder?” you casually ask, ignoring his stare that quickly slips away from you when you speak up.

“Not yet. But we’re working on it.”

“Do you think… it’s something serious? Like someone is after me?” Leaning onto the kitchen island you play with the spoon in your hand as you look at him, waiting for his response.

“I wouldn’t go into guessing. I’m more of a–”

“Of a fan of factual planning, I know,” you finish his sentence with a smile. You’ve heard it from him several times, word by word.

Grabbing the bowl you round the island and stop a few feet away from him.

“I really do trust you, Harry. With my life.”

You feel like you had to let him know again after last night. The way you questioned his ability to protect you was not fair, he gave you no reason to believe he is not the best person for the job. There’s a reason why he is head of the team.

“Thank you,” is all he says. He is back to his distant self that only focuses on work. You know in times like this it’s better to play by the rules and retreat.

“I’m gonna head to bed soon. Good night, Harry.”

“Good night, Y/N.”

Everything falls back to a somewhat normal routine. Following the incident your team almost doubles, but nothing actually happens and the building’s security system gets an update so three weeks later you’re back to your usual with only slight changes. 

Like how there’s an agent in your living room during the night.

There was a discussion about positioning someone inside your apartment and they explained to you why it’s better to have someone with you during the night. You understood and agreed to do it under one condition: you have to approve of the agents that can take the position. There are three of them and of course, Harry is in that team.

He’s been taking up the inside position as much as he can. He never asked you, but maybe he figured you know him the best and feel the most comfortable with him inside.

Most of the time he hangs out in the living room. He doesn’t stand by the window all the time, you’ve caught him sitting in the armchair, walking around, stretching his limbs. To make it less miserable for him you spend a lot of time in front of the TV, mostly to hopefully entertain him at least a bit now that he’s stuck with you more than ever. For days, he didn’t even look at the screen, but lately you’ve caught him following the show several times, so you’re religiously keeping this habit up. 

The awkwardness has faded, but it definitely taught you a lesson. You better not get drunk when Harry is around and that’s like… all the time. 

Everything seems to be back to it’s extraordinary normal that you’ve been used to for the past few years. 

Today is a special day, however. You’ve been part of a case study competition, your criminal law professor suggested you enter and you’ve worked insanely hard on your case for the past three months that earned you first place. They are holding a little award ceremony today and it will finally be your moment. You will be in the spotlight because of something you worked hard for and not because your father is the leader of the country. 

He promised to be there and watch you accept your well-deserved award and you’re excited to make him proud. 

You started the day early and channeled your excitement into a long morning run before spending the noon at a salon to get your hair and nails done for the occasion. You might be the president’s daughter, but you’re a woman after all and you love a good pampering before an event. 

Now you’re sitting in you closet, trying to figure out what to wear, all the outfits you’ve tried on but decided against are lying on the floor around you in piles. You start to think you should have gone shopping, but then you find the perfect dress, a simple, but elegant black dress with a deeper back cut. You pair them with a pair of designer heels and some statement earrings to bring some light into this quite dark set and you’re all done. 

When you walk out of the bedroom Harry is standing by the window in his usual black suit white shirt attire. His eyes snap over to you and this time he can’t hide how he checks you out from head to toe. You can feel the heat crawling up your neck to your cheeks and ears.

“What do you think?” you ask, giving him a twirl.

“You look… very professional,” he answers. It’s not what you expected, but you know he meant it in the best possible way.

“Has my dad’s plane landed?”

“I haven’t gotten any news from his team yet, but I’m sure he’ll be there on time. Shall we leave?”

“Yeah,” you nod, feeling out of breath. An unsettling feeling sinks into your gut, but you brush it off as Harry helps you put on your coat and you leave the apartment in the ring of agents.

Because of your attendance, the event’s security has been obviously raised and a group of agents have been at the venue long before your arrival, checking every corner so when you’re finally there you can walk in without having to wait in the car. 

The competition had several different fields so there will be more students awarded today, the room is full of winners, their proud professors and parents as well. You take your assigned seat and nervously look around, searching for any sign of your father, but there’s none, so you’re left with just waiting.

It’s killing you, so you text him but you get no response. He should have landed by now to make it in time, his silence is raising concern in you now.

“Harry? Can you please reach my father’s security team?” you ask and nodding he takes a few steps back as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. 

Something is off, you can feel it in your guts and you fucking hate it. It takes forever for Harry to turn back to you, right when everyone starts clapping, because the dean has entered the stage to start the ceremony, but you’re only looking at Harry.

“What did they say?”

“Y/N, he is… He is not coming.”

“What?” It feels like a punch in your stomach and you wish Harry would say it’s just a joke, that he is about to walk in any moment, but the look on his face tells you it’s the truth.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you whisper as you turn back to face the stage, your throat closing up while you fight your tears.

It was the first thing you asked from him in so long. You’ve been there for him every step of the way and today you just needed your father to be here and be proud of you, but he ditched you. There’s been an ongoing joke on the internet that it will always be the country before you for your dad and you even laughed about it before, but now it’s your cruel reality.

You watch the winners get called on the stage one by one and the willingness to do the same dies in you with every passing moment. 

“Y/N?” Harry taps your shoulder and you snap out of your thoughts only to realize your name has been called. 

“Fuck,” you mumble as you stand from your seat, three agents moving with you, taking their places as you walk up to the stage and shake hands with the dean. Every first place winner has said a few words, so now it’s your turn at the microphone, but it’s like you’ve forgotten how to talk. Looking around you see the sea of faces, everyone is waiting for you to finally say something. Your eyes land on Harry and he gives you a tiny nod and somehow you find your voice.

You manage to say a few sentences about the importance of your study and thank the school for the opportunity before you walk off the stage. You’re expected to return to your seat, but instead, you’re heading to the restroom.

The dam breaks and tears start rolling down your face. You completely ignore the protocol, that an agent has to check the room before you enter and a hand pulls you back before you could rush into the ladies room.

“Y/N, I need to–”

“I don’t want to have the fucking toilet checked, I want to have some fucking privacy!” you snap at him, tears rolling down your face and you’re very close to start sobbing like a child. Harry looks back at you with shock on his face, this time he can’t even mask it, probably because he has never seen you like this.

“Okay, but–”

You don’t wait for him to finish, just push your way inside and don’t stop until you reach a sink that you can lean onto, the sobs finally erupting from your chest. 

Betrayal, disappointment and helplessness wash over you, pulling you right into a possible emotional breakdown, though you’re still fighting it as you open the tap and splash some cold water into your face.

You didn’t realize Harry followed you inside, so when you feel a hand on your back you almost get a heart attack.

“Hey, it’s just me, it’s okay,” Harry holds his palms up when you jump back, gasping for air because of the panic and crying at the same time.

“I s-said I-I wanted p-privacy!” you sob shaking your head.

“I can’t just let you walk in here alone when you can barely breathe!”

“I don’t want to do this! I don’t fucking want to do this!” you cry, leaning your back against the cold, tiled wall as you let yourself fall apart for the first time in forever. You’ve been trying to be calm and collected as much as possible, but so much has piled up on you that your father not showing up was the last straw, the cherry on top.

“Y/N, calm down, take a deep breath, okay?” Harry tries to calm you down, but you just keep shaking your head and sobbing. 

“He didn’t come! It was the only thing… I asked from him!”

“I’m sure he has a reason to–”

“I don’t fucking care! He doesn’t care about me! No one fucking does! I’m just… I have no one left! No one!”

“Don’t say that, Y/N. There are people who care about you.”

“Who? Who cares about me!” you scream at him, finally looking into his eyes and his gaze pierces into yours as he answers.

“Me. I care about you.”

“It’s your fucking job to protect me, it’s not the same!”

Your chest is heaving and you must look like a complete mess, but at this moment nothing really matters. Harry looks back at you like you just seriously hurt his feelings, like what you said was just as disappointing as your father not showing up. Long moments pass by without him saying anything and you start to think he’ll just walk out like he did that night you got drunk, but then he steps closer, definitely crossing the line of comfortable distance.

“If you think you’re just a job to me, you couldn’t be more wrong.”

“Don’t lie to me,” you beg in a whisper.

“Don’t call me a fucking liar,” he snaps back and it’s the first time you hear him swear. His pupils have swallowed his irises and his breathing is almost as wild as yours as he stares at you, practically burning a hole into your face. 

“You left me that night. Without a word. I told you I wanted you and you walked out. That does give me a certain message.”

“You were drunk out of your mind, telling me to fuck you. I would have never forgiven myself if I touched you. I had no reason to believe you wouldn’t regret it in the morning and ask to never see me again. That would have been the end of my career and the end of… me.”

Though your cheeks are still soaked from your tears, his words have stopped your crying and now you can’t even tell what you’re feeling. You have no idea what to do or say, how to react and you can’t believe how this situation is turning out to be. 

“I still want you the same,” you whisper, your mouth deciding on what to say because your brain is in complete shock. 

Harry exhales sharply through his nose, his eyes fall closed and you can tell he is fighting himself, so you want to push him over the edge. Reaching up you cup his cheek in your hand, he doesn’t move at first, but then he leans into your touch and that’s when you push yourself away from the wall to get closer to him, but he pulls away.

There’s a second of devastation, but when he reaches to his earpiece you realize someone is talking to him.

“Copy. We’re in the restroom, give me the fastest route out.” He talks into his wrist before his eyes snap up to you.

“What happened?” you breathe out, feeling like your heart cannot take another shock at this moment, but you’ll have to deal with it anyway. He listens to the answer they give him through his com before talking to you.

“We need to get out. The guy who was at your apartment was spotted in the building.”

“What? Is he armed?” Harry takes your hand in his firm hold and gently, but confidently pulls you towards the door. 

“We don’t know, he ran away, DeLuca and Jackson are after him, but we need to get you out of here.”

Your pulse is higher than ever, you feel dizzy and your brain is definitely shutting down, too much has happened in just minutes, you’re on survival mode. Harry must have noticed your state, because before he could open the door he turns to you, taking your face in his hands.

“It’s gonna be alright. I’m right here.”

“Okay,” you nod, blindly believing anything he says.

He then opens the door, steps out first to check what’s happening and returns to get you and you’re on your way to flee the building.

Circled by agents you follow Harry through hallways you’ve never been to until you somehow get to a back entrance. Your car is already there, waiting for you and you get in the back, lying down onto the seat, remembering that’s what Harry asked from you the last time you had to be rescued out of somewhere. You catch his face before he shuts the car door and he gives you a small nod. 

You don’t experience much of what goes down at the venue, they take you to a safe spot and you wait there with three agents while the rest of your team is either in the venue or at your apartment, making sure there’s no one there. 

Almost an hour goes by when Harry returns and you look at him, feeling on the edge to finally know something.

“We lost him. Your apartment is cleared, let’s get you home.”

You can tell he is beating himself up for letting the guy slip away and you already know he will put his walls back up.

He does one more check in the apartment himself before letting you inside. 

“We are doubling the security for tonight and then we’ll talk about the changes tomorrow,” he lets you know, following you inside. 

“Okay. Are you gonna stay in here?”

“Most likely,” he nods.

“Are you blaming yourself for tonight?”

He doesn’t answer, but his eyes talk for him. 

“You couldn’t have spotted the guy anyway, you would have been with me either way.” You walk closer to him, but keep some distance, sensing his distress.

“I wasn’t focusing fully,” he hisses through his teeth.

“Nothing happened, you–”

“Y/N,” he stops you from talking. “I’m responsible for your safety. Today I put that responsibility behind my feelings and that cannot happen again.”

“Is this your way of saying… you don’t want me the way I want you?” Now you’re moving closer, you need to reduce the distance between the two of you, it’s like something is pulling you towards him, a force that you’re not strong enough to fight. 

He stares at you for long seconds, taking a deep breath before he speaks up slowly in a calm manner.

“What I want does not matter when your safety is at risk. Let me… Let me do my job, let me do what I have to do to keep you safe. Please.”

It’s like he’s begging you, pleading for you to understand and… let go of him. And as much as you want it all to be different, you can’t go against his will and intentionally hurt him, there’s nothing you can do other than live with the pain. Like you always do.

“Okay,” you whisper and try your best to swallow back your tears, you’ve cried enough today. 

Harry exhales, like he’s relieved you’re not putting up a fight and to your surprise he cradles the back of your head and pulls you closer so he can place a kiss to your forehead. 

“I have to take care of a few things, Morrison will be in here until then, but I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod weakly. His hand falls from the back of your head and you watch him turn around and walk out of the apartment. 

You’re on autopilot. Have been for weeks.

Following the award ceremony things turned upside down once again. On one hand everyone has been on edge, because they couldn’t track the guy down, so your security has been doubled since then. Agents follow you everywhere, making it impossible to have a normal human interaction, not that you had plenty of friends to hang out with before. But still.

Your dad called that night and gave you some grand story about why he couldn’t make it to the ceremony, you told him it was fine, because you had no energy to lash out on him and you haven’t had a decent conversation with him since then. You can’t say it bothers you, it’s like there was a switch inside you that now allows you to give zero fucks about what your father does. You’ve canceled two events you were supposed to attend by his side, using the mystery intruder as an excuse, saying that you don’t feel safe out in public. You could tell he was annoyed, but didn’t question it. 

And then there is the Harry situation. Or the lack of it, if you’d like. It’s been hurting like hell, but there’s nothing you can do other than keep your promise of letting go of him. It’s just really hard when you spend so much time with him and have him in your apartment almost every night. 

You don’t watch TV anymore. You can’t bear being in the same room with him with no one else around. It’s hard enough to know he is on the other side of your bedroom door. You go back to coexisting, you silently follow his orders and not give him a headache when you know he already has a lot on his plate, he does his job in peace and everyone is happy.

Or not, but it doesn’t matter. 

The school semester is nearing its end and you’re already planning to ask to stay here for the summer. You know your dad will flip, but you’ll at least try to make a deal with him to attend events in the summer if it means you don’t have to move back home that doesn’t even feel home anymore. 

With your finals coming up you spend most of your time in the library. Surrounded by heavy books, hundreds of pages of notes, you’re working your ass off, because this is the only thing that could make you forget about your misery for a while. 

It’s a Friday afternoon, almost evening and you’re still very much working on a paper in the almost entirely empty library. It’s a great time, because most students avoid the building on Fridays, more interested in parties than books, so it’s a lot more peaceful. It’s your way of distraction from the fact that you have to make an appearance tomorrow for your dad and you can’t bail out of it this time. 

There are three agents near you and two more at the entrance, but Harry is not working now. He will probably take another night shift, not that you keep track of when he works…

You’re too focused to notice the group of people that come in, but when you spot a figure approaching you and the agents around you move instantly, you finally lift your head up from the book in front of you. You’re surprised to see Jaiden coming in your way, stopped by the agents.

“Jaiden?”

“Um, I just want to talk to her,” he says to the agents and you nod your head to let him through. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Just wanted to give you something, thought you might be interested,” he shrugs as he passes you over a paper and with that he is already on his way, leaving you puzzled.

It’s a QR code so you grab your phone and read it and a website starts loading on your screen. When it finally loads, you feel all the blood rushing out of your head.

It’s a site basically dedicated to you, where people can send in anonymous comments and stories about you for everyone to read them. There are quite a few, a big chunk of them obviously from guys you’ve gone on dates with, dragging you through mud, a lot of them stating things that never even happened. 

You just scroll and keep reading them in total disbelief and then you hear laughter. You look up and see Jaiden with a group of fratboys, having a blast seeing you go through the site before they hoard out of the library. 

Your head is spinning and you feel like throwing up as you pack up your stuff as quickly as possible. It’s a struggle not to start sobbing on your way home, neither of the agents ask what’s wrong, because they are not your friend, they are there to keep you safe, but not from assholes, apparently. When you arrive to your apartment you see Harry already waiting by the door, but you avoid looking him in the eyes as you rush inside, wanting to lock yourself up in your room preferably forever. 

The tears start rolling down your cheeks when you hear someone coming after you and you know it’s Harry. 

“Y/N, is everything alright?”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, keeping your back facing him so he can’t see your face.

“Then look at me, please.”

You don’t move, just stand there, silently crying and there’s no way of fooling him, he knows you better than anyone and your shoulders are shaking as well. Slowly, you turn around for him to see your face.

“What happened?” he asks, stepping closer, but he still keeps some distance between the two of you.

“Nothing, I said I’m fine.”

“You’re obviously not fine, Y/N, don’t… don’t bullshit me, okay? Tell me what happened!”

He won’t give up, he won’t leave you alone until you say something so you pull your phone out of your pocket, open the website and hand it over to you. You watch him scroll for a minute before he looks up at you.

“We’re taking this down and we’ll find whoever did this,” he firmly says and before you could react he is already giving orders through his com. “They are on it. we’ll find them, don’t worry.” “Okay,” you breathe out and you turn around to lock yourself up in your bedroom, but he stops you.

“Y/N, wait!”

You look back at him, not even trying to mask how tired, defeated and hopeless you’re feeling. You must look like just a shadow of the person you used to be and the sight of you is probably just as depressing as you feel because it breaks the professional boundary that’s been between you and Harry.

He moves across the room and pulls you into his arms and you just start crying and sobbing uncontrollably while he holds you tight, gently rocking you from side to side to soothe you. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he murmurs into your hair and you just bury your face deeper into his neck, probably totally ruining his shirt, but neither of you cares about that right now. 

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” you sob, melting into his embrace, because it feels like the only safe place for you.

“I know. I wish I could help you. Tell me what I can do for you.”

“Just please don’t leave me, not tonight, please!” you beg and fully expect him to pull the wall back up, but instead he just holds you even tighter.

“I would never leave you, Y/N.”

The amount of times you had to fake laugh tonight is ridiculously over the roof. It’s another evening where you’re just a tool, something your father can brag about but you hold no influence or whatsoever. 

You’re sipping on some champagne, but you’re careful with the alcohol consumption this time. Though you’re not sure how another situation like that last time would turn out now. Especially after that night after the website fiasco.

After soaking his shirt with your tears the two of you sat on the couch, you remained in Harry’s embrace and he talked you through it, until you momentarily forgot about what happened and somehow you ended up falling asleep. When you woke up you had a blanket over you and Harry was standing in his usual spot by the window, like a hound, watching out for danger. When he realized you woke up he walked you into your bedroom, tucked you in and sat beside you until you wófell back asleep. 

The website was down by the morning and the school was informed about it as well, taking matters into their hands to punish those who created it. You didn’t want to know the names, you just wanted to forget about the whole thing. 

That night changed things between you and Harry. You didn’t feel that wall between the two of you though there was still some distance, but it felt like you could overstep it easily. It’s like you’ve been dancing on a fence, still not sure which side you want to land on. You’re not planning to pressure him to choose, having him this close is already more than you had before so you’re happy to prolong it for as long as possible. 

You have no idea where the conversation is heading around you, you’ve zoned out of it long minutes ago. It’s not that you don’t understand what politicians, influential people tend to talk about at events like this. It’s more about how you recognize some of them know nothing about the field they work at and still hold the power. 

And you lost interest too. 

Holding your champagne flute your eyes wander over the room until they settle on Harry. He is by the window, what a shocker, examining the sea of guests around you, watching out like a hawk until his gaze meets yours and his expression softens. 

“Bored,” you mouth to him and you catch the smirk he tries hard to cover up.

“You got this,” he mouths back to which you frown, making him laugh.

His laugh.

You’ve been gifted with it more in the past few days than in the time you’ve known him and it’s definitely one of your favorite things in the entire world.

“Break?” you mouth once again and he just nods, moving instantly. 

Five minutes later you’re out on the balcony with him, two guards standing by the door inside. 

“This should be considered torture,” you sigh.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he teases you.

“I’m not, I hate it here. Look around.” You stand beside him, staring inside at the sea of guests. “What am I doing here?”

“Supporting your dad.”

“I think he is fine without me,” you shrug, nodding towards him, he is standing in a circle of men, all of them pretending to be having a marvelous time, but you know for a fact at least two of those men would backstab him the first given chance. It’s all so pretentious and you’re tired of trying to be part of it for him.

“What would you like to do?” Harry asks.

“What do you mean?”

“If you could do anything, any job, anywhere, what would it be?”

You’ve never really thought of that before. A life that’s entirely what you want it to be is so far out of your reach that you never let yourself daydream about it. So now you take some time to think it through before sharing it with Harry.

“I would probably have a riding school,” is what you tell him at last. He looks at you surprised.

“Like… horses?”

“Yeah,” you smile softly, keeping your eyes ahead, staring at the people inside. “I used to ride a lot when I was smaller and I loved it a lot.”

“But you never do it anymore, why?”

“I wasn’t exceptional in it, never won any competitions so my dad thought I shouldn’t keep doing it. He talked me into quitting and I started learning French instead.”

“You speak French?” he asks in shock.

“No,” you chuckle, finally looking at him. “I was mad at him for making me quit horse riding so I never put any effort into my French classes, I can barely introduce myself.”

“Wow, such a rebel,” he chuckles quietly.

“What about you?”

“I don’t speak French.”

“I know that,” you roll your eyes. “I meant, what would you want to do if you could do anything?”

He curls his lips into his mouth as he thinks about it, his eyebrows furrowed.

“I think I would be living on a farm.”

“A farm?”

“Yeah. You know, growing stuff and keeping animals. I love the thought of growing everything I need.”

“That sounds lovely,” you smile at him. “I hope you get to do that one day.”

“I do too,” he nods and the two of you just stand there, watching the mingling and dancing guests.

It’s a moment you want to last longer, you feel close to him, like you’ve finally jumped off that fence and you’re running away. Together. 

So at last you decide to give him a little push.

“I wish we could be dancing there too.” 

Your voice is quiet, barely audible through the noises coming from inside and when he doesn’t say anything for a while you start to think he didn’t even hear it, or that he is ignoring your words because he doesn’t want to deal with them.

But then his hand gently takes yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“I would… love that.”

Your chest feels like bursting and you wish you could just jump into his arms, but you know you can’t. So instead, you just stand there, enjoying this tiny, hidden moment that’s burning into your memories forever.

It was hard to focus on your conversations before, but now, after you’ve shared that special moment with Harry it’s kind of impossible.

You’re making your rounds around, chit-chatting and smiling as pleasantly as possible, but in your mind you’re still out on the balcony, holding hands with Harry.

Talking about him, you haven’t seen him in a little while. You look around, searching for him once again, probably for the millionth time in the past ten minutes, but you see no sign of him.

“Morrison, where’s Styles?” you ask the agent beside you.

“Your father asked to see him, Miss,” he informs you. 

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know, Miss, I’m sorry.”

You try not to think much of it, but when you finally spot him in the crowd your stomach drops, because his expression is anxious and angry at the same time, though he is trying hard to mask it. But you know him too well.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, instantly ignoring the conversation you’ve been in before. 

“Can’t talk right now, but we better leave.”

You don’t question him, just follow, though the way he is acting now is freaking you out. He is right next to you as you make your way out of the room, getting farther and farther from the rest of the guests.

“What happened?” you finally ask when you’re walking down the hallway that leads to the entrance.

“I don’t want to turn you against your father,” he answers, but now you’re just even more keen on knowing what’s going on.

“Harry, tell me!” you demand, stopping abruptly.

Not too willingly, but he comes to a halt as well, turning to face you as he leans closer.

“Your father kept it a secret that they got a letter yesterday in which someone threatened to hurt you today. He kept it from us, because he knew you wouldn’t come tonight if you found out.”

“What?” All the blood rushes out of your face as his words process. 

“He strengthened security for your sake and thought it would be alright, but I don’t want to risk it, we need to get you somewhere safe until we get to the bottom of this whole thing.”

“Okay,” you nod, a shiver running down your spine at just the thought of that letter your father hid from you. 

You’re nearing the exit when your father’s voice beams through the hallway, just when you’re already seeing your car outside.

“Y/N! Where are you going?!” 

He is rushing towards you with his own security team circling him and you can’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“I’m leaving!”

“And you didn’t think of at least saying goodbye?���

“I’m not doing anything for you anymore. Not when you’ve intentionally put me in risk just so you could use me at another event!”

The look he gives Harry says it all. He is pissed that Harry told you about the threat, that someone went against his will.

“It’s not that serious, Honey. We have everything under control.”

“Is that so? Then who sent the letter?”

“We don’t know it yet, but—”

“What if it’s the same guy that’s been stalking me? What if it really is something serious?” You’re finally lashing out on him, something you probably should have done a lot earlier, but you didn’t have the balls. You’re done being the obedient, supportive daughter to a father that’s not returning it at all.

“We doubled security and I have people working on it! No need to–”

“Don’t tell me what I need and don’t need to do! I don’t feel safe anywhere anymore! You knew I would panic if I found out about it but you chose to hide it so you could use me tonight to show people how great of a family we are when in reality, you give no fucks about me!”

“Y/N, that is not true. I didn’t want to stress you out, that’s why I didn’t tell you.”

Lie. That is such a big fucking lie.

“I’m done. I’m done with you. Call me when you’re ready to be my father.”

Turning around you’re on your way out to the car, you hear your dad calling after you, but Harry stops him and it’s the first time you hear him talk so harshly to your father.

And then all hell breaks loose. But it’s not because of Harry’s way of talking to the president.

You’re approaching the car confidently, eager to get away from your dad and the madness that surrounds him, Harry is following you right behind and as you keep your gaze on the car suddenly you realize.

It’s not yours.

Everything happens so fast, but at the same time it’s like it’s in slow motion.

A guy jumps out of the car and points a gun right at you. The agents around you launch forward, but he is several feet away, so they don’t reach him before he pulls the trigger and shoots at you. In that moment you believe you’re about to die. Gasping in surprise you completely freeze, but then get pushed to the side with so much force you smash against the wall, pain jolting through your left arm instantly as the shot of the gun rings in your ear.

You fall to the floor the same time the agents tackle the shooter. From the corner of your eyes you see how your ad is being dragged away from the scene before he could get hurt as well, even though he is shouting your name, it’s protocol to rescue him and take him to a safe place right away.

As you look to your right you see another person on the floor and your heart skips a beat when you realize that it’s Harry, and a pool of blood is underneath you, growing rapidly each second.

He took the shot that was meant for you.

The rest is a blur. You start screaming and try to reach him while two agents pull you up from the floor to take you away from the scene as well, your arm hurts like hell, but you just keep screaming for Harry. 

At last you catch his face, you see him gasping for air, pure panic and fear all over his face, he looks at you one last time and you see a tear rolling down his face before you’re dragged away.

The constant beeping. It just keeps going and going and it’s driving him crazy. 

Crazy enough to finally open his eyes.

Harry is more than confused about his surroundings, the hospital room looks sterile, but nice, very nice if you ask him, so he knows he is at some kind of private facility. It takes a couple of moments for the pain to set in but when it does, it comes with all the memories as well.

He was shot in his chest when he pushed you out of the way, he remembers the pain he felt then which was a lot worse and more intense than the dull, pressure like feeling in his chest right now. He remembers lying on the floor and looking at you as two agents pulled you away and he knows he said his goodbye in that moment, because he was convinced he would die.

He didn’t. 

Now he is lying in a hospital bed, the machines hooked onto him keep beeping and tracking his vitals and when he turns his head slightly to the left the beeping intensifies because he sees you sleeping in an armchair next to his bed. 

You look awfully uncomfortable, but still breathtakingly beautiful, your left arm is in a cast and you’re cradling it to your chest. As if you could sense his wandering gaze, you start moving around and you blink your eyes open at last, seeing that Harry is finally awake.

“Hey,” he breathes out, barely finding the energy to speak, but you burst into tears right away as you fall forward, one hand coming to the side of his head, the other one holding his hand on the mattress.

“You’re awake, oh my God, I really thought I lost you!” You sob and try to take in the sight of him conscious and talking, something you didn’t think you’d ever see again when you saw him lying on the floor three days ago.

“I’m okay, I’m right here,” he exhales as his other hand comes to take your hand by his face. “How are you? Are you okay?”

“Harry, you were literally shot and you’re asking if I’m okay?” you laugh through your tears, finally cracking a smile from him as well. 

“That doesn’t mean I’m not worried about you.”

“I’m fine, just broke my hand, but it’s okay. How are you feeling? Does it hurt?”

“Kind of. But it’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad? The bullet missed your heart by one millimeter. Doctors said it’s a miracle you survived.”

“Well, at least I know I’m not bulletproof,” he tries to joke and it makes you laugh and that was his only intention. 

You’ve stopped crying, but you wouldn’t move from beside him. You’ve been in this room since they brought him out of surgery and refused to leave since then. He reaches over and wipes your tears off your cheeks before cradling your face in his palm. You gladly lean into his touch and then turn your head to kiss into his hand without hesitation. 

You fill him in on what happened. Tell him about how he was rushed to hospital and the guy was caught and it was confirmed he sent the letter and he was the one stalking you at your apartment and award ceremony as well. You were afraid it was someone you knew, but apparently he was just some psycho who wanted to hurt your dad by hurting you.

It was a wakeup call to your father. One that he desperately needed after the stunts he has pulled lately, so you had a long talk outside of Harry’s room when he found out you were here with him. He apologized for everything and promised to be better. You told him his words mean nothing, you need to see the change in his actions. 

He has visited every day since then and you discussed the future as well. A future that will bring lots of change.

“You saved my life,” you quietly say, still kind of in shock about what happened.

“I would do it again,” he replies. 

“You won’t be able to work again because of it,” you tell him. The bullet grazed his lung as well and the doctors said he might never be able to reach the same physical limits like before.

“It doesn’t matter,” he shakes his head. “I didn’t lose you and that’s what matters.”

His words sink in and you have to fight your tears again as you rest you lean closer, until your faces are just inches away.

“I don’t want to feel again the way I did when I thought you died. I don’t want to keep my distance, I… I love you and I want to be with you.”

Harry exhales heavily, his eyes fall closed and when they open again you get lost in them.

“I love you too. And I want to be with you too, always have.”

You let out a laugh that’s mixed with relief, happiness, pain and so much anticipation before you push closer and finally press your lips to his.

Years of built up tension and passion is set free as you kiss him and he returns it just as eagerly. It’s not at all how you imagined your first kiss, not with a cast on your arm or Harry lying in a hospital bed after being shot, but none of it matters in this moment, only him. There’s no more playing around, pushing each other away, this is end game and you both know it. 

“So…” you mumble against his lips, “Will you move to a farm with me?”

“Moving? Aren’t we rushing a little ahead?” he chuckles, brushing some loose strands of hair out of your face before pecking your lips shortly.

“No. I don’t want to waste any more time. Let’s do what we always wanted to do.”

“What about your life? Your dad?”

“I already told him I’m stepping back from my first daughter duties. He is okay with it.”

“Really?”

“I mean, he doesn’t have much saying in what I do after almost getting me killed,” you joke, though you both know how serious the matter was.

“And you’re sure you want to move on… with me?”

You smile at him softly, it’s so typical he is questioning your decision even after everything that happened. He surely needs some time to adjust to this new version of you and him where there’s no wall between the two of you, just love.

Leaning down you kiss his lips softly.

“There’s no one else I would do it with, Harry.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[goldensweetmemory]

I’m Fine Without A Man (But I Wouldn’t Mind His Protection)

xxx

Written for the @1domegaverseficfest

Prompt: Omega Louis is a Rockstar who loves to barricade. All the scents mixing together and he loves it to be close to his fans. Alpha Harry is the bodyguard who is responsible for Louis' safety. Both do a lot of banter but one day the fans rip Louis shirt and some alpha in the crowd is touching him. Harry has to scent Louis backstage to calm the omega down and growls at everyone who comes near them. Louis has no other choice. Before every concert he goes to Harry to let himself be scented so the alphas in the crowd have no effect on him. Possessive Harry, a lot of scenting, cuddles and banter pls, Louis hates it at first but secretly loves it.

Title from Prisoner For Life by Olivia Rodrigo

[lasiocampa--quercus]

For all those stuck in 2019...

I have been very reluctant to share any art / writing for — oof, five years. First because it was plain awful, then because it was not good enough. It still isn't, but as the years passed I got increasingly lonely on other social media, so this is my last resort. After I've failed smashingly here, well, I guess I'll just have to stop trying altogether.

Anyway, a first time for everything. So here's one for you.

[Detail. Scroll down (I mean to say, read the whole post) to see the full artwork]

We don't choose what we love, now, do we?

For five years I've been desperately in love with the idea of putting two brilliant characters — Eggsy from Kingsman (2015, 2017) and David from Bodyguard (2018) — into the context where they could meaningfully interact and explore one another's worlds. Such a context has been established (it is not the subject of the current post but I'd be willing to tell all about it later), resulting in their taking a shine to each other almost immediately. For Eggsy this acquaintance was something excitingly in between the two class extremes he was most accustomed to, sabotaging his life-long distaste for having anything to do with coppers. For David it was a breath of fresh air. He'd been two years well into therapy after the events covered in the series, and he was still struggling to get back on track when he met Eggsy, arch and lively, and at the same time so dashingly insightful as he was. Somehow it felt like they'd known each other for years as they talked throughout afternoons and after-work hours over a pint of lager somewhere in North London. David, usually rather inhibited, smiled and laughed at Eggsy's jokes, charmed by his candour and straightforwardness, taken aback by his astute remarks often delivered in a childlike unassuming manner. To be sure, he'd never met anyone quite like him. The prospect of friendship was an enticing one despite all their differences and despite the pressures of their jobs. While at first one was suspicious of the other's occupation (David, of course, more suspicious than Eggsy, being inherently averse to secrecy of any kind), they soon grew to respect the boundaries imposed by respective lines of duty (David was inclined to believe Eggsy's agency couldn't be that bad seeing as it employed such a brilliant lad). In effect, Eggsy trusted him more than he could ever trust any of his old mates and occasionally slipped into the conversation uncanny details of his field experiences. But best of all he liked exchanging ideas, relaying to David something that Harry had told — or taught — him, expounding on his reflections that were philosophical or even biblical in essence, although he couldn't ever say whom he unwittingly quoted. David would recognise a concept or two, but he never abashed him by mentioning the fellow's name. Over time the content of their communion had got more intimate, insomuch that Eggsy took to dedicating a huge chunk of time to moaning about his relationship with Harry which had gone on for quite a while after he split up with Tilde.

One such time, fuelled by a considerable amount of drinks, Eggsy set to illustrate the supposed reasons for Harry's recent aloofness. He clamorously hurled his jeerings and complaints at David, impinging on much-cherished privacy of the pub tables. Before it started to wear on virtually everybody in their proximity, David took his noisy, fairly plastered companion outside for a breather. The cool evening air didn't seem to have the desired effect of sobering him up a bit as Eggsy nearly blacked out after a brief (but crucial) exchange between himself and David. That occurrence prompted David to call a cab and take him to his place to recuperate. He reasoned it would not be wise to let him dart off home to Harry in such a flustered state, for it appeared as if the conflict between them was merely an ember, or rather, a heap of embers waiting to be stirred. From then on David's conduct was laced with strange acts of gracious benevolence, such as taking Eggsy's trainers off before laying him down, sleepy and a tad confused, on his sofa and leaving the keys to his flat for when he woke up and presumably wished to go home, with little trim notes strewn around telling about it, as well as where to look for aspirin if his head was giving him a hard time after the other night's drunken debauchery. At the time David didn't question his actions, although they clearly ran counter to his long-conditioned circumspection and, to a lesser extent, his vague views on male intimacy. If anything, the day when he, trying not to disturb Eggsy's healing sleep, snuck away for work he couldn't shake off a quaint feeling of invigoration which seemed to permeate his otherwise dull routine of desk duty. Later that day, confident that Eggsy had left, he got back to a startle in the form of his coyly looking, supper-serving friend with unkempt hair and a crumpled white T-shirt. Eggsy stayed not only to defer having to face Harry, but to show gratitude for David's kindness the best way he knew — by doing a kindness in return. He furnished their dinner table with a bottle of wine, promising to go easy on it and proposing a toast to David's general gemness. There they were, having another quiet night of good conversation, the homely setting and their tipsiness conducing to even more warmth and unrestraint, when Eggsy accidentally tipped over his half-emptied glass and stained his T-shirt. If one could ever be sure of such things, one would say that exact moment was the point of no return, the moment of truth. A simple, ordinary incident that tore down a facade with the light tinkle of glass as it touched the floor. From lighthearted jocularity Eggsy went on to unbosom his brooding insecurity. The change in his disposition was so thunderboltingly sudden it made David somewhat uncomfortable. It made Eggsy uncomfortable too. The only suitable course of action suggested they should comfort each other, so Eggsy placed his hand in David's. A bashful kiss ensued. Once it was reciprocated, little smiles creased their flushed faces. Both hardly had an opportunity to process what was happening, but it somehow felt ridiculously, madly right. And peaceful, too.

Well, now that all the heavy lifting is done by that snippet above we can sit back and (hopefully) enjoy this little picture depicting David and Eggsy decently progressed in their ‘comforting each other’. I must point out, however, that what you've just (hopefully) read is really only a summary, a squeeze if you will, of what transpired, produced specifically for purpose of acquainting you with the context. In actual fact the story is teeming with dialogue and detail which, with your kind permission, I would like to show you some other time.

[moonchildstyles]

would Élan!Harry ever get jealous with (Y/N)? Seeing as to how they don't make their relationship public (yet!), people would still definitely hit on her, so how would he deal with that?

wordcount: 4.2k+

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"One more?" 

Harry's lips grew into a lopsided smile at (Y/N)'s request. It would never lose its shine, would it? 

"One more, but I don't want to be the one in trouble for your lipstick this time," he conditioned with a raised brow. 

"Okay, fine," (Y/N) answered right away, waving his terms off with a fluttering hand, "Just one more before we have to go inside." 

Pressing his lips to her own perfectly painted pair, Harry was determined to keep it light and fleeting, knowing that there were cameras lurking just up ahead. It wouldn't be a good look for either of them to emerge from the back of this SUV with (Y/N)'s lipstick smeared and the remnants on Harry's own mouth. 

Of course, his determination hinged on just how well behaved (Y/N) was going to be. Which, as he'd learned through the course of their tabloid facade, wasn't something that happened often. It was her that deepened the kiss with a tip of her head, fitting his bottom lip between her two. 

How was he supposed to say no to that?

She knew he'd given in as soon as he felt the faint curl of her lips against his, a smug victory smile. 

Though, her victory didn't last much longer than that. 

The ever patient—and discreet—man he was, Sully knocked on the partition as a warning that they were quickly approaching the venue of the night's party. It was Harry who had to have the power to pull away first, leaving (Y/N) with a puffed pout and only slightly smudged lipstick. He didn't even want to think about how much of the red was now painted over his own mouth. 

"Don’t give me that look," he told her, swiping a thumb over a smudge just under her bottom lip. 

His command only garnered him a set of narrowed eyes to go along with her pout. "I don't even want to be here tonight, why can't we go home?" 

"Because," he said, canting his head as she did the same, "Y'told Francesca you'd be here tonight, and I know y'wouldn't leave her by herself." 

"She'll make friends," she huffed, though Harry knew he'd won her over as soon as she turned away in search of the compact in her purse. 

"It's gonna be alright, darling," he told her, slinging an arm around her shoulders as she clicked open her mirrors and touched up her lipstick, "We'll go home early if y'really want." 

"I do really want," she petulantly mumbled, cleaning up the slight smudging outside of the line of her mouth. "H, you messed up my lipstick." 

That was enough to have him throwing his head back with a laugh.

By the time Sully had pulled up to the entrance of the high-rise the party was taking place at, (Y/N) had primed her appearance and put on her socialite facade. Harry had sat at her side, being her anchor as she centered herself and let the side of her personality that loved cameras and attention take over. 

"Ready?" he'd murmured once they pulled up to the entrance of the building.

She chirped out and Mh-hm a small smile on her lips. "Ready to be my bodyguard?"

"If y'can behave," he countered, sliding his arm off of her shoulders once he saw the first flashes of the camera aimed at the SUV. 

"We'll see," she smiled just before sliding down the leather seats and pushing the door open. 

Harry had no choice but to follow after her, shaking his head just before stepping out into the flashing lights with her. Schooling his features, he slipped on his own facade. Despite what the tabloids wrote and the blurry photos supposedly circulating online, when they stepped in public, Harry was her bodyguard. Especially when it comes to parties like this.

He'd be her lover later, he had to make sure she was safe first. 

The entrance wasn't packed with photographers, but there were still enough people for Harry to hover just behind her. He'd learned his lesson well while in Paris that summer—it didn't matter just how few paparazzi were following her, it only took one to push the limits. 

She kept her head down when the few waiting outside the event started talking to her, speaking over one another with calls of her name. None of them acted particularly invasive, speaking rudely to her or invading her space, especially seeing as there wasn't anything particularly scandalous circulating about her at the moment. Nonetheless, while (Y/N) politely smiled and kept her space, Harry was the intimidating presence behind her that reminded others just how important it was for them to keep their distance. 

Following as her quiet shadow, Harry kept his hands to himself as they were escorted to the penthouse floor for the party. If not for the attendant in the lift, he may have attempted to get one more touch of her skin against his, though he instead settled for a sidelong glance that had her lips tipping into a small smile. 

When the doors opened directly to the penthouse space, Harry tipped his head, gesturing for (Y/N) to go first. She thanked the attendant with a quiet thank you before she stepped into the fluttering party.

It was a decidedly more low-key event compared to the many that (Y/N) frequented, most of the attendants having spilled out towards the open air patio. The rest of the space was full of modern, minimalist decor. Walls were made of glass panelling, everything coming in different shades of cream and nude, manicured greenery being placed throughout the space in an attempt to make it look more lived in than it most likely was. Staff traipsed through the space with trays of hors d'oeuvres and flutes of bubbly alcohol. 

"Do you see Fran anywhere?" (Y/N) murmured, her fingers joining into a fumbling bundle at her middle. 

Continuing his scan over the crowd, Harry stuffed his own hands into his pockets to keep from plucking (Y/N)'s up in an attempt to soothe her. "Not yet. Do y'know if she's here yet?" 

"I don't know, she hasn't texted me since before we left." At that, (Y/N) pulled out her phone, most likely pulling up Francesca's shared location. Her expression fell at whatever she saw on her screen. "She hasn't even left her apartment yet." 

"That's alright," he told her, keeping his voice low, "She'll be here soon. Do y'want a drink?" 

Just as she opened her mouth to give an answer, (Y/N) was interrupted by a voice Harry didn’t recognize. Though plenty of strangers approached her while they were out and about, especially at events such as this, it still put him on edge. Peering around the perfect style of (Y/N)'s hair, he found a man with dark hair and grown in facial hair approaching her. He was inches shorter than Harry, but with the way the group he'd drifted away from admired him, he could have been seven feet tall. 

"Hi," (Y/N) politely answered. Harry didn't have to see her expression to be able to picture the neutral set to her mouth and the practiced light in her eyes. 

"Sorry," the man said, voice accented with lilting vowels and an undulating melody. His eyes never  strayed from (Y/N). "I don't mean to interrupt, I was just hoping I'd run into you while I was in the city. I'm Luca." 

"Oh, no worries," she answered, just as perfectly pleasant as always, "Nice to meet you." 

Harry watched on as she reached out a manicured hand for him to shake, only for Luca to bring her hand to his lips and press a kiss to her knuckle. 

His hands in his pockets clenched. 

This was the downside to keeping their relationship on the down low—everyone loved to assume she was available for the taking. 

"Nice to meet you as well," Luca drawled, looking at (Y/N) through a fan of dark lashes. It was with a sudden glance in his direction that Luca seemed to realize she hadn't been standing off by herself. "Excuse me, I didn't mean to be rude. I'm Luca." 

With a clenched jaw, Harry offered his own greeting, reciprocating Luca's outstretched hand for no other reason than to ensure he wouldn't let it wander back towards (Y/N). 

"Nice to meet you," Harry said, voice a bit stifled as he assessed the man before him. 

"Are you—uh—a friend of (Y/N)'s?" Luca asked, taking a step back with his hand giving a slight flex before settling it into his pocket. The action had Harry's lips quirking into a small smile; it was entirely intentional just how tight his handshake was, but he would never admit that. 

"I'm her bodyguard." 

It was always with that statement that Harry had assessing eyes tracing over his form, taking stock of who he was as if his merits for his profession were painted on his clothing or tattooed on his arms. 

"I bet she keeps you busy then, this one," Luca attempted to tease as if he knew anything at all about he or (Y/N).

Before Harry could manage to snip out his own reply, (Y/N) took over. "Luca, have we met before? Sorry, if I've forgotten—I have the worst memory," she laughed, "You look familiar." 

That seemed to be just the question Luca had been waiting for, a dazzling smile settling on his features. "Ah, well," he started, suddenly—deceptively—bashful with his eyes dropping to his feet, "I am an F1 driver—for Ferrari, actually. You may have seen one of my races." 

Harry had to make a point to keep from rolling his eyes. 

"Oh wow," (Y/N) bubbled, perfect persona in place, "That's really cool! I have a friend who really enjoys that kind of thing, so maybe I've seen you on T.V." 

"Yeah?" he chirped, decidedly more willing to talk about his profession now that (Y/N) may be familiar with him, "I was just in Las Vegas for a race a couple of weeks ago. Have you ever been before?" 

Harry had to tune him out then, instead opting to look for Francesca through the new faces that had entered since being huddled in the corner with Luca The F1 Driver. Slipping into bodyguard mode, he only heard the polite mumblings of the conversation at his side, attempting to provide (Y/N) with as much privacy he could manage. 

"Right, H?" (Y/N) asked, suddenly pulling him back into the moment from where he'd zoned out pretending to look for Francesca. 

"Hm?" he hummed, blinking back into reality to find (Y/N) looking at him with Luca seemingly unimpressed with his inclusion. The thought had a lopsided smile touching at the corner of his lips. 

"We're going to be in Milan next month, right?" 

"Yes, from the ninth to the seventeenth. Why?" His question was aimed at Luca, forcing him to pay attention to him.

His smile looked especially pasted on this time when he matched Harry's attention. "I was just telling (Y/N) that I'll be racing again in Monza next month. Perhaps, you can catch the race while you're out there?" 

"Maybe," (Y/N) answered noncommittally, "I'd have to check in and see what we have planned, and Harry usually has to—" 

"No need to worry about that," Luca interjected, "I have a box you could spend the time in—I doubt you'll need any security up there." 

A tick appeared in Harry's jaw, hinging it tighter. To be fair, it wasn't the most blatant attempt to get him out of the way he'd ever heard before, but it was certainly an attempt. 

It was (Y/N) that had shrugged her shoulders, piping up first before Harry had a chance. "Oh, no," she waved Luca off with a polite smile, "Harry would be coming with me anyway."

At that, Harry could spot a small crack forming in Luca's facade. (Y/N) wasn't quite playing into whatever he had been hoping for when he meandered over to her. 

"You just let me know, then," Luca settled on, features schooled into perfection though he did stray a glance towards Harry. "Sorry, I'm being so rude—can I get you a drink, (Y/N)?" 

It took (Y/N) only a split second thought before she was jumping on the opportunity. "Yes, please, actually! Anything sweet works for me." 

When (Y/N) made a move to pull out her phone, her own quiet way of dismissing Luca to the bar, Harry had to keep his features from showing his amusement. She had casually turned to face Harry, giving her back to the bar Luca had disappeared to.

With her eyes still low, she murmured, "Is he far enough away?" 

"Mhm." 

Looking up at him with wide eyes, she whispered, "Oh my god, is he being annoying or am I just in a bad mood?" 

The exasperation in her tone was enough to have Harry letting out a chime of laughter. "No, he's definitely being annoying. Did y'really recognize him, or were y'jus' saying that?" 

"Kind of," she waved off, whatever app on her phone taking a backseat for the moment, "I half-watched a race one time with Toriana but that's it. I just wanted him to stop talking to you."

"Of course, Fran had to be late today, right?" Harry joked, sharing a small smile with her before noticing Luca on his way back with bubbling drinks in hand.

"Seriously," (Y/N) sighed before spinning on her heel to face Luca once more. "Thank you so much!" 

Now knowing how (Y/N) truly felt about her companion, Harry had to make a point to keep his amusement from touching his face when listening to the way she forced herself to pep up for him. It was interesting to him now, just how different it had been in the beginning, how difficult it had been for him to spot those differences in her personas—the split between who she truly was and who she hid behind. Now, all he needed to hear was the inflection of her voice, the arch of her spine, the gesticulating of her hands, and he could tell just where her comfort was sitting.

Luca's voice became a mumbling of monotone syllables to him, nothing to pay attention to as Harry observed the party and the patrons. He kept an ear out for (Y/N), ensuring she wasn't in need of him, though he had to make a point to keep from laughing at the sound of her faux-giggles between sips of sugary alcohol.  

Though he wasn't a fan of hearing others hit on his girlfriend, it was rather funny to hear just how clueless they were to her disinterest when it was so clear to his own ears. 

Of course, until Luca put his hands on her. 

It was slow, the way he'd grown closer to her after noticing Harry had averted his attention some. He took small steps, shifting his weight and leaning in as if he couldn't hear her over the low music playing. Once he deemed himself close enough, Harry saw, out of the corner of his eye, his hand landing on the small of her back, sliding around to settle on the curve of her waist as if he wasn't clearly flinching away. 

A too loud laugh filtered from her mouth then, enough to have Harry's attention sharpening and pinning on the interaction. 

As casually as possible, (Y/N) attempted to step out of Luca's grip. Though it didn't appear that he caught the hint with the way he shifted towards her once more, closing the gap she'd opened. 

There was a moment, with the sight of his hand on her waist, fingertips dipping into the folds of her dress as they curled to the line of her body, that Harry wondered just how many grainy videos and opinionated essays would be posted if he stepped in and pushed Luca away. 

 He'd bet it would be more than either he or (Y/N) would care to see. 

It was when (Y/N) looked at him over her shoulder, a fleeting glance, one that could have easily been mistaken for a flip of her hair, that Harry stepped in. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, greedily pulling her away from Luca's grip. 

"Francesca's here," he murmured, voice just loud enough for Luca to clue into the fact that his time with (Y/N) was over.

Spinning to face him, (Y/N) looked to him with relief in her eyes. "Really?" she bubbled, glancing back at Luca for a moment though she was already heading into Harry's arms, "It was nice talking to you, Luca!" 

Harry almost wanted to gloat when he saw how Luca stuttered over himself, absently reaching out as (Y/N) slipped through his fingers. 

"Oh—Um—Let me know about Monza, yeah? I'd love to see you again before I leave the city, maybe tom—" 

"I'm really busy this week, but maybe! I'll see about Monza and have Harry reach out!" 

It was with that final remark, that (Y/N) began leading the charge away from Luca and the corner he'd huddled her into. Harry followed after her, shifting his arm until he had his palm on her bicep.

"Thank god," (Y/N) sighed once they were far enough away, "Did you hear him?" 

"I tried not to," Harry murmured, guiding her through the throngs of people, slowing when unfamiliar faces said greetings in passing, "What did he say?" 

(Y/N) shook her head. "I know more about his racing stats than I think I know about myself." 

Typical, Harry figured. Of course, once the veil was lifted, would Luca leave the shy act behind to boast about his job in hopes of impressing (Y/N).

"'M not surprised," he said, just before (Y/N) changed their course.

Instead of following the line of the bar and those gathered in the living area, she turned them towards a hallway branching off the main room. It was decidedly quieter than where the party was. 

"Do you think there's a bathroom down here?" (Y/N) muttered, scanning her eyes down the few doors lining the hall, "I want to hide for a second."

It was (Y/N)'s request—that she wanted to hide away after speaking to Luca—that had him trying his hand at his own exploration. Even if he didn't hide a restroom, he would find somewhere quiet for his girl to decompress. 

On a whim, he reached towards the handle of a passing door. Pushing it open, a pristine bathroom sat inside. Convenient. 

Gently pulling her over the threshold first, Harry made a point to take a look around, intending to catch if anyone had wandering eyes that had landed on them. Though he couldn't be sure no one had caught them stealing away together, at least no one was watching as they went into the bathroom together. 

Setting her drink on the counter, (Y/N) sat on the edge of an elaborate tub with a heaving sigh. Her shoulders settled down, sloping downwards as she looked up at the ceiling for a second. 

"I don't know if I've been that annoyed since Paris," she muttered, rolling her neck. 

A small smile settled on Harry's lips then. Leaning against the marbled countertop, he crossed his arms over his chest as he gazed at her. "Maybe we should've stayed home, hm?" 

"I told you so," she countered, looking to him with amusement in her eyes. "How much do you wanna bet that Fran hasn't even left the house yet?" 

He watched as she pulled out her phone from her purse, checking through whatever tabs she had open before he unfurled from where he was leaning against the counter. Crossing the pristine tiles under his feet, he crouched in front of where (Y/N) was huddled on the edge of the tub. 

Placing a hand carefully on the bone of her ankle, he whispered to her despite already being alone in the space. "Y'alright?" 

"Yeah," she sighed, slowing her tapping on her phone before she dropped her phone to rest on her lap, "He was just annoying—he wasn't, like... scaring me or anything." 

"Good, good," he murmured, stroking his thumb over the curve of her leg. 

"Are you okay?" she prodded, settling her hand on his cheek. 

Leaning into her touch without a second thought, he shuttered his eyes in a lingering blink. "'M okay. I don't know why, but it was hard to watch him—or listen to him." 

She tossed him a shrewd glance. "Yeah? You didn't like watching him ask me out?" 

He shook his head, cheeks stretching around his growing grin. "I didn't, actually. It actually made me a little angry. I wanted to punch him when he touched you." 

"Really?!" she bubbled, a plume of laughter falling from her lips, "I didn't think you could get jealous! You're always so calm!" 

"Was I jealous?" he prodded, tugging on her leg in a teasing pull, "Is that what happened?" 

"It sounds like it! You wanted to hit him?" she asked again, leaning towards him with a conspiratorial gleam to her eyes. 

"Maybe," he mused, "If he'd done anything to upset you, I might have. He was already annoying enough." 

There had to have been something in his answer that she enjoyed seeing as she pressed forward and sealed her mouth to his. He smiled into the contact for a moment, dimples in his cheeks before melting into her touch. Slotting his lips to hers, it was (Y/N) that deepened the kiss with a trace of her tongue over the pillows of his lips. 

The sounds of their lips parting and coming together filtered through the bathroom as Harry reached towards her hand on his face, wrapping his fingers around the fine bones of her wrist. It was when he scraped his teeth over the full of her bottom lip, a small nip, that she parted her crossed legs and drew him between her thighs. 

He was hyper aware of the party going on outside the door, and the fact that this was the apartment of someone he'd never met before, but at the same time Harry didn't care. 

If she liked seeing him jealous this much, he wasn't going to stop her. 

At the movement of her legs, her phone was tossed to the floor, landing on a bathmat at her feet. Neither had acknowledged the thump, until it started vibrating with a call. 

(Y/N) reluctantly pulled away with a sigh, resting her forehead on his. "It's Fran, isn't it?" 

"Probably," he muttered, blindly reaching for her phone before handing it off. 

Harry only had to see the way she pulled in a long breath, an affectionate roll of her eyes, before she pressed the device to her ear that told him their suspicions were right. 

"Hello?" she answered, drifting her hand from his cheek to card through her hair. 

Getting only one side of the conversation, Harry had to put the pieces together while watching the expressions that crossed her face. As far as he could tell, Francesca was especially amusing today. 

"Yes, we're here," (Y/N) continued, nodding along to whatever Fran was bubbling about. "Yes, me and Harry... No, she's not here—as far as I've seen anyway... When are you going to get here?.. We'll still be here; we're just in the bathroom right now." She paused just before a peal of laughter rang through the room, her nails grazing over his scalp. (The touch had a certain shiver streaking down his spine). "No! We're hiding from some F1 guy that keeps inviting us to some race next month... If you want, you can go instead. I don't know if he has a yacht, but I'm sure you could convince him." 

Gazing up at her from where he sat before her, Harry felt his own lips curving into a lopsided smile. He loved seeing her stripped down like this; she'd told him more than once that he was one of the only people he was able to vulnerable and herself around, but he'd seen just how young she was around Francesca. He could see glimpses of who she was before he'd met her, the girl who'd been around before cameras were documenting her every move. 

It had his heart rattling against his ribs. 

With his wandering head, Harry hadn't realized she'd ended her call until she hung up the phone and placed both of her hands on his cheeks. 

"Do you know how many times I've wished I could be in your head?" she told him, a small smile to her lips, "I just want to know what you're thinking—you're so hard to read." 

"'S you," he said, sincerity rivaling the lighthearted tone to her voice,"'S always you."

She looked at him with amusement in her eyes, the same way she always did when he said something adoring: as if she didn't believe him, instead waiting for the joke to land. 

He could do nothing other than surge forward and press his lips to hers. He'd always been better at showing than telling her how he felt. 

—————

thank u sm to whoever requested and for everyone who read to this point! so sorry for any mistakes, and please let me know if you have any fun ideas of your own:)

[doodlinggoat]

so I was watching some movies and the brainrot struck me

[1d1195]

Protection Extra IV

Read Protection here | ~1.8k words

From me: I really got to thinking about this idea from 🎶-ask. It is short, but hopefully it's enough. I've missed them loads. This is back within the first year of their official dating. I mentioned I would be jumping time frames a bit with these extras, so here it is.

Warnings: a little angsty. But fluffy overtones. Harry's just a protective guy. Also, the tiniest bit of smut but you have to squint and read between the lines. Mostly heavy making out and a little bit of touching.

Summary: Harry might not work for DSS anymore in the same way he used to. He doesn't guard her life because it's his job. He guards it because it's his life; her entire being is his and he would lose his mind (worse) if something happened to her.

She does not care to the same capacity as him. (But she does feel bad about it at least.)

“You said I could,” he frowned. The little scrunch between his eyebrows appeared when he concentrated. She loved it endlessly. Even if what he was asking was ridiculous. So as much as she loved that little furrow between his eyebrows, she was not going to cave. Instead, she smoothed her fingers on the bunch of skin and cupped his cheek with her hand. He turned into her hand and kissed her palm.

“Like as a joke, Harry,” she rolled her eyes she dropped her hand and returned to her previous position. She couldn’t see his face. But it didn’t matter. She already knew what faces he made any time she annoyed him anyway.

It was insane they were even having this conversation. Harry broached it so casually too. They were snuggled on the sofa, her body resting in his embrace. His knees bent around either side of her body and she laid across his torso. She fit so warmly against him it was hard to believe he was even asking her such a thing because the idea she would ever leave the circle of his arms was ridiculous.

“Okay,” he sighed. It was obvious he was frustrated by the decision. Her head was close enough to his mouth that he could kiss the top of her hair, so he did. He ran one hand up and down her arm sitting in the quiet while he held her safely in his arms. It was his favorite part of the day, holding her close to him where he knew nothing bad was going to happen. He wouldn’t let it.

Obviously, she took his silence as plotting to convince her. Which he could never. He knew that. He knew he would have an easier time convincing a fish to walk than telling her what to do. “I literally have my phone on me all the time and now you know about my shoe trick.”

He sighed. “But y’didn't have y'phone,” he reminded her. “No shoes either.”

There was that; she would allow him that much. “Well, there's no more threat, so I don't need—”

"Kitten," he sighed rubbing a hand over his face. He was exasperated. “I don’t want t’talk ‘bout this anymore,” he mumbled.

She frowned feeling bad she upset him. But he was thinking way too far over the top. “No one is even going to remember me anymore,” she whispered quietly. “He’s in jail for a really long time,” she reminded him. He didn’t answer her. “Harry,” she whispered. “Talk to me.”

“I already said I don’t want t’talk ‘bout it anymore.”

Her frown deepened and she sighed; feeling like the worst girlfriend in the world because she wouldn’t put a tracking device in her arm. “I have the scrunchie, too; for when you’re away,” she reminded him. He nodded, still silent. “Harry,” she sat up on her knees, so she could look at him. He was so pretty, all soft skin and angular. He was so handsome it made her swoon on a regular basis, and he was all hers. But she had to stand her ground.

His eyes looked sad, tired. Too sad. “M’not trying t’be controlling.”

“Of course not, Harry. I know—”

“Honey,” he interrupted.

Her heart skipped a beat because for whatever reason, when he called her honey, it made her lose all rational thought. It seemed like the conversation was far more serious than when he called her kitten, love, or even Miss Wildflower. She felt like she was nothing more than a container of the very sweet goop he called her. “I talked ‘bout this with m’therapist and we... I know m’being... crazy,” he frowned. He cupped the side of her face as he spoke so softly. Like all of this was a secret. “But... I was insanely lucky,” he reminded her. “Y’were brilliant,” he complimented. “I told you ‘bout a fail safe in passing and y’had been planning all along. I was completely blindsided by y’departure. Every step you had planned was perfect. But if y’didn’t have an AirTag, I wouldn’t have found you,” he admitted. She didn’t speak because his compliment was too nice. She didn’t think about it all that much. Mainly because she didn’t like thinking about betraying Harry the way she did. It was nearly a year ago and he was still worried. It probably killed him to admit that out loud. Because it was his job at the time, and he wouldn’t have been able to find her. But it wasn’t just his job. He loved her so completely.

If something happened to her, she really believed Harry wouldn’t survive the guilt. He barely forgave himself for her injured leg and she wasn’t convinced he fully forgave himself for that either.

She turned toward his palm in the same way he had and kissed his hand softly. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He shook his head. “You don’t need t’apologize, kitten. Y’didn’t do anything wrong.”

She took a deep breath. She had her own therapist and they had also discussed a lot about her hyper-independence. Even with someone like Harry to rely on because she could, and he wouldn’t ever judge her. “I’m not...” she swallowed. “I had people follow me around for years, Harry,” she reminded him.

“I know—”

She pressed a finger to his lips gently. “I couldn’t do what I wanted ninety percent of my life, Harry,” she reminded him. “Do you know what it’s like to want to go to the mall to get new jeans because yours ripped and someone tells you that you can’t? Or that you want to go to a new frozen yogurt place with friends, but you’re not allowed to? If I forgot a vegetable for dinner, I couldn’t run to the store and back without it being a production,” he didn’t know what any of that felt like; not really. He only knew it from the end of production. The part of it all she didn’t like. So, he stayed quiet. “If you texted me every five minutes for the rest of our lives, asking where I was, I would tell you every. Single. Time,” she assured him locking her gaze with his. He felt it in his stomach, the way she looked at him. She meant every word she spoke. “If you put a tracking device in me it’ll... it’ll just feel like the rest of my life. Unable to make decisions on my own. Unable to live freely,” she told him. “You have my location through my phone. I am more than willing to have that scrunchie on my wrist and in my hair when you’re not within a couple hours of me,” she promised thinking about the weekend he spent with his mom. She wondered how long he stared at the little blipping dot that told him she was safe and in her house for most of the time he was gone. “Those AirTags saved my life because you told me I needed a failsafe, Harry. You saved me.”

His gaze dropped from hers and they were quiet. Harry didn’t like the compliment. He felt like he didn’t do a good job because she nearly drowned and had a scar on her thigh that made him want to smack his head on the wall for letting those things happen to her. Silently, she settled back into his arms, her ear resting so she had the perfect sound of his heart thudding against her.

“Harry?” She whispered.

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

He smiled, kissed the top of her head. “I love you, too,” his head dropped back against the arm of the sofa and he squeezed her. He thought of all those days she studied on the ground and how they were always this close to snuggling this way. “M’sorry m’so nervous,” he mumbled. “I know you’re capable of taking care of yourself,” he pressed his nose just behind her ear, like he was tracing the outline of her hair behind it.

“I think if I had a tracking device, you wouldn’t enjoy your life. Wouldn’t take your eyes off it.”

He thought of visiting his mother back in March and how the anxiety built and fell over and over as he looked at the little blip telling him where her scrunchie was. She was right. He would have it on every screen he owned if he knew her exact location. “You’re right.”

“Oh, that had to have hurt,” she giggled and kissed his throat.

He rolled his eyes. “You’re a genius, kitten. M’happy t’say you’re right.” It was embarrassing how those words turned her on. A shiver rippled through her. No one loved her as much as Harry. No one trusted her instinct, her intelligence, or judgement as much as he did. But it was more than that. Because Harry knew people didn’t believe her for years. People misjudged her abilities because of her father and circumstance. They didn’t believe in her. So it was like he had complimented how pretty she looked (which she did) when he said she was right. It wasn’t an ego thing. “Did y’like that, honey?” He hummed his lips nipping at her earlobe as he spoke.

Harry knew exactly how much she liked that.

“Off,” she ordered shoving his shirt up his torso. It didn’t matter than she had seen him without a shirt hundreds of times since the day they warmed up in his car after the icy dip in the water when he saved her life a second time in one week. She liked to feel the hard ripples of his stomach and he had promised she could look as much as she wanted once she was warm.

Well now she was warm. “Yes, ma’am,” he pulled it off the rest of the way and pulled her in to kiss her as deeply as he could before he pushed her back to the opposite end of the couch and settled between her legs. “Say it,” he whispered, not quite begging. But he wanted to hear it. Because it made him feel better. It made him worry less about all the thoughts they had discussed in the last hour. He carefully shifted her leg as if he was worried it was the very same day she nearly bled out. He slipped his hand between their bodies feeling her through her leggings.

She moaned softly while he kissed the length of her throat and brushed his lips against the swell of her chest as she tried to maintain enough air to speak before she was lost in Harry and all his perfection.

She had no problem saying it. Because it was true. Truer than most anything she believed in her life. Harry was hers and he was going to protect her in any way he could even if she wasn't willing to put a tracking device in her body. “I’m all yours,” she promised breathlessly.

--

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[linophrynelight]

Mentioned I'd stayed up too late reading last night, young coworker asked what it was and I panicked and said "a sci-fi novel set in post-Soviet Estonia" bc there's no way in hell I could tell them it was actually this smutty kimharry undercover mob boss x bodyguard fanfic

Anyways here's a sketch of the boys, they clean up well

[dramioneasks]

Lovefool - WillowingScribe - E, 12 chapters - Draco gets doomed by the Ministry to live without his magic for a year. Hermione, tasked to chauffeur the proud but now magically-impotent wizard to a small cottage in the middle of nowhere, never imagined she would be responsible for teaching her former nemesis how to use a toaster. Neither of them would've thought that through their forced collaboration they would learn to appreciate each other beyond their wildest imagination. OR A decade spanning love story inspired by When Harry Met Sally but with a much heavier dash of spice.