Saved || Bodyguard Connor x Reader

Chapter 7: Independence

The morning light filters through the blinds, soft and muted. You wake to the faint clinking of dishes in the kitchen. For a moment, the memory of last night presses heavily on your chest—the stranger's voice, Connor stepping in, the adrenaline coursing through your veins long after you got home.

The air smells of freshly brewed coffee. The familiar aroma draws you out of bed despite the weight in your limbs. You tug on a sweater, the chill of the floor biting at your feet, and make your way to the kitchen.

Connor is there, as you expected. He stands by the counter, meticulously pouring coffee into a mug. His movements are precise, deliberate, almost soothing to watch. Even though his back is to you, he speaks without turning.

"Good morning, Miss Y/N." His voice is calm, unhurried, and strangely grounding.

"Morning," you murmur, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You glance at the table and notice a steaming mug of coffee already waiting for you.

You sit, wrapping your hands around the warmth of the cup. The silence stretches for a moment, neither awkward nor uncomfortable, until Connor finally joins you at the table. His gaze is steady, his LED flickering briefly before he speaks.

"Did you sleep well?"

You hesitate. "I guess."

Connor doesn't press, but there's something about the weight of his presence that urges you to say more.

"Last night was... a lot." You softly blow the hot liquid, avoiding his eyes.

Connor nods. "It's understandable to feel that way after such an event. However, I must emphasize the risk you took by leaving unaccompanied." His tone is measured, but there's a firmness to it that makes you glance up.

"I just needed some air," you say, a touch defensive. "I wasn't trying to... you know, cause a problem."

His LED flashes yellow. "I understand your reasoning, but the potential consequences could have been severe. Given the break-in and the threatening letters, it's clear someone may have harmful intent. Your safety is my priority."

You huff, leaning back in your chair. "Yeah, yeah. I get it. I screwed up. You don't have to lecture me."

Connor tilts his head slightly, studying you. "It's not my intention to lecture, Miss Y/N. I'm here to ensure your well-being. That requires discussing actions that could compromise your safety."

"I can't protect you if I don't know where you are," he gently adds.

There's a sincerity in his tone that softens your irritation. You take another sip of coffee, the warmth spreading through your chest.

"Did you sleep? Or, uh... go on stand-by mode?" you ask, your voice quieter now.

Connor shakes his head. "No. I remained on alert in case the individual returned."

He stayed up all night to keep me safe...

You blink, guilt settling in. "You didn't have to do that."

Connor's expression remains neutral, but his voice carries a hint of warmth. "I disagree. Ensuring your safety is my mission. I will always act in your best interest."

He's so relentless about it... You look down at your coffee, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and unease. He makes it sound so simple, so absolute.

After a pause, you set the mug down and lean back in your chair. "You know, it's not just about wanting air. I've always needed my independence. Even as a kid, I hated relying on people."

Connor tilts his head, the LED on his temple blinking. "Why is that?"

You shrug, but the words come spilling out, raw and unfiltered. "I guess it started when I was younger. Being in the spotlight... it messes with you. Everyone either wants something from you or assumes you have it all figured out. My parents made most of my decisions for me, and I just... I wanted control over my own life. Even if it was something small, like going for a walk alone."

Connor listens intently, his gaze unwavering. "That desire for independence is understandable, given your circumstances."

"It's not just about fame," you continue, voice softer. "It's the fear of... losing myself to other people's expectations. Of being seen as weak if I rely on someone else too much."

Connor's brows knit slightly, a rare flicker of emotion crossing his face. "Independence is not inherently at odds with accepting help. True strength often lies in knowing when to trust others."

You scoff lightly, though his words sink in deeper than you'd care to admit. "You sound like a self-help book."

He quirks a brow. "That was not my intention."

A small laugh escapes you.

The conversation drifts to lighter topics. You ask him why he bothers making coffee when he doesn't drink it, and he explains that it's part of his effort to understand human habits. When you tease him about not dragging you back inside last night, he simply replies, "I determined that a direct approach would have caused more distress."

As the morning stretches on, you find yourself watching him more closely. The way his hands move with mechanical precision, yet there's a subtle grace to his actions. The way he speaks, his voice measured yet smooth.

His brown eyes. And that mouth—quirking itself in little ways when he talks to you. And that adorable smile—

Ah. What am I even thinking?

You quietly clear your throat. "Do you ever... I mean, do you ever think about anything other than your mission?" you ask suddenly, the question tumbling out before you can stop it.

Connor blinks, his LED cycling briefly. "I am designed to focus on my mission. However, I have observed that fulfilling it often involves understanding the nuances of human behavior and emotions."

You nod, biting your lip. "It's just... you don't seem like a machine all the time."

Connor regards you for a moment, his gaze steady. "I appreciate the observation."

The corner of your mouth lifts in a small smile. "You're... different from what I expected."

"I hope that's a positive assessment," he says, the faintest hint of amusement in his tone.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "Yeah, I guess it is."

As Connor moves to clean up, you watch him, the steady rhythm of his movements soothing you in a way you can't quite explain. Despite everything, you feel a little less alone.

He's slowly growing on me...

Shit. Dad had it all planned out.