The mall buzzes with energy—laughing teenagers, distant conversations, and the smell of fruit smoothies. A pop song you vaguely recognize plays on repeat from the overhead speakers as you hum along absently, your fingers brushing over racks of soft fabric.
For the first time in what feels like weeks, you've left the safety of your home and ventured out into public, determined to reclaim some semblance of normalcy—like shopping. Having your bodyguard a step behind you is a constant reminder of the fragile bubble you live in, but you're trying not to let it ruin the experience.
You pause at a rack of dresses, pulling out a maroon backless one and holding it up to your frame in front of a mirror. It's bold and elegant, the kind of thing you'd never pick under normal circumstances.
"You look good, Miss Y/N."
Connor's voice makes you jump. You whirl around, nearly dropping the hanger. "Could you not sneak up on me?"
Connor's head tilts. "I've been standing here the entire time."
"Sure, okay," you grumble.
Connor watches as you return the dress to the rack. "The color complements your complexion," Connor comments, his tone as clinical as ever.
You squint at him. "Okay, fashion expert. What do you suggest?"
Connor steps closer, his LED flickering yellow for a brief moment before returning to blue. "I suggest trying it on. That would provide clarity."
The idea of Connor weighing in on your wardrobe choices is absurd. Still, curiosity wins out. You grab the dress, along with a couple of other options, and head toward the dressing rooms.
"Wait here," you say, but when you glance over your shoulder, he's already following you.
"Connor." You groan, holding up a hand to stop him. "Dressing rooms are kind of... private. You can't come in."
He pauses, his head tilting slightly. "I see. I will remain outside the door."
"Thank you."
Inside the cramped dressing room, you hang the dresses and pull the first one over your head—a pale green sundress that feels soft and flowy. It's nice, but as you glance in the mirror, you realize it doesn't suit you at all.
"Miss Y/N?" Connor's voice comes through the door, startling you.
You pull the curtain tighter. "What?"
"Is everything satisfactory?"
"Yes! Fine!" you snap, feeling your cheeks heat up.
You try on the maroon dress next. The silky fabric slides over your skin, and for a second, you feel almost glamorous. Stepping out of the dressing room to check the bigger mirror, you find Connor standing a few feet away, his posture impossibly straight.
His gaze shifts to you, and his LED flickers yellow before returning to blue. "The color suits you," he says simply, eyes roaming your figure.
You glance at him, unsure how to respond. "You're... weirdly good at this."
"Observation is a part of my programming," he replies.
You smirk, shaking your head. "Next thing I know, you'll be telling me what shoes to pair it with."
"I would recommend neutral tones," he says without missing a beat.
You laugh, earning a curious glance from another shopper. "Connor, you've got to learn when people are joking."
He blinks. "I'll add that to my database."
You roll your eyes so hard you're surprised it didn't pop out of your head.
A few minutes later, you wander into the men's section, still holding onto the maroon dress. A crisp white button-up shirt catches your eye, and you grab it off the rack, holding it up to Connor.
"This would look good on you."
His gaze shifts from the shirt to you, his LED flickering yellow. "I don't require additional clothing, Miss Y/N. My standard uniform is sufficient."
"Yeah, but it's sharp. You'd look less like an android bodyguard and more like someone who's, I don't know, normal," you insist, shaking the shirt for emphasis. "This says you're approachable. Like a normal guy who's just out grabbing coffee or something."
"I don't drink coffee."
You groan. "It's about the vibe, Connor."
"I see." He tilts his head, considering. "Do you believe this would improve my efficiency?"
"Efficiency? No. Style? Yes."
Before he can reply, his attention shifts. His LED pulses yellow, and his gaze sharpens as he subtly scans the store.
"What is it?" you ask, noticing the change.
"We're being followed," Connor says quietly, his voice low enough that only you can hear.
Your stomach twists. "Followed? Are you sure?"
Connor nods once, his posture subtly shifting as he steps closer to you. "Keep looking at the clothing. Act normal."
Act normal. Right. Like that's easy when people are watching your every move. Your fingers tremble slightly as you reach for a random tie. It's paisley. You hate paisley.
"What do we do?" you whisper, keeping your eyes on the rack.
Connor's eyes narrow. "I'll handle it. Stay here."
Before you can protest, he moves away. You watch out of the corner of your eye as he disappears around a display, his figure blending seamlessly into the crowd.
Your heart pounds in your chest, and you force yourself to focus on the ties. Seconds feel like hours, the vibrant chaos of the mall suddenly oppressive.
Your eyes dart toward the mirrors that line the walls. That's when you see him—a man loitering near the entrance, his attention flicking between you and the surrounding shoppers. He's dressed casually, but there's something about his aura that sets your teeth on edge.
Connor reappears seconds later, cutting through the crowd like a knife. He closes the distance to the man in a few strides, his expression unreadable. You can't hear what he says, but whatever it is makes the stranger stiffen. The man flinches, his hands raising defensively before he quickly backs away, disappearing into the flow of people.
Connor returns to your side as if nothing happened.
"Well?" you ask, your voice barely steady. "Who was he? What did he want?"
"He won't be a problem anymore," Connor replies, his tone calm.
"That's not an answer."
He hesitates, then says, "A potential threat. I ensured he understood the consequences of his actions."
You stare at him, a mix of gratitude and disbelief swirling in your chest. "Thank you," you manage, your voice softer than you intended.
Connor's LED glows a steady blue. "It's my responsibility, Miss Y/N."
Your gaze lingers on him for a moment longer.
"Okay," you say finally. "But next time, maybe tell me before you go all secret agent."
He nods once, his lips twitching into something that could almost be a smile.
And for the first time, you realize having him around might not be as suffocating as you thought.
I could get used to this.
YOU ARE READING
Saved || Bodyguard Connor x Reader
Fanfiction❛❛ My mission is to protect you, and I always accomplish my mission. ❜❜ As the daughter of a famous celebrity, you've spent your life trying to escape the suffocating spotlight. But when threats to your safety grow more dangerous, your father calls...
