His to Guard
Bodyguard!Ghost x F!reader
Your father hires Ghost as your personal bodyguard after a vague but alarming threat surfaces. You hate the arrangement. Ghost hates your attitude. You’ve made a hobby of testing his patience; wandering off at events, ignoring his orders, smirking every time he clenches his jaw.
tw: mild language/swearing, possessive/protective behaviors, brat/tease dynamics, mentions of jealousy wc: 1.4k sorry i've been gone hehe... but look, daddy's back and i made u some content <3
Following orders, as Ghost would put it, is not one of your strong suits. Tonight was no different. You wanted to go clubbing with your friends, and had begged your father to let you go out for one night of fun. He had agreed under one stipulation… Ghost goes and stays within arm’s reach at all times.
He’d been glued to you the second you stepped out of the car. Like a tower. Unmoving. Mask on, arms crossed, eyes always scanning. His presence is like a dark storm cloud hovering over your shoulder. Ever the vigilant protector. So, you do the only reasonable thing. You push every one of his buttons. You’re good at it, you’ve had practice. Ghost is all rules and discipline, and you’re… not.
The bass shakes the floor hard enough that you feel it in your chest, a rolling pulse that drowns out everything except the slick heat of bodies moving under neon lights.
You dance with your friends, pretending not to notice the way he glares every time someone brushes too close to you on the dance floor. Sipping drinks and pretending you don’t see him stiffen when a guy touches your waist. You laugh a little louder when his gloved hand twitches like he’s imagining breaking someone’s fingers. Getting under his skin was a favorite pastime of yours. Was it bratty? Absolutely.
However, Ghost could afford to loosen up every now and then. He was always so uptight. Always strictly business. You imagine those tense, broad shoulders loosening up as he lets a genuine laugh out… how sweet the sound would be. Unfortunately, you weren’t here tonight to help him ease up. Originally, you tried to, truly. You offered him drinks, to dance, to just sit and chat, anything to break through the tough exterior he always had on display for the world. Per the usual, your efforts were met with deadpanned brown eyes. He was lucky his eyes were a dreamy shade, otherwise you’d probably act much worse.
You continue to dance with your friends, thinking of ways to get under your bodyguard’s skin. When one of your friends trips up a bit and briefly distracts Ghost, you take the moment to slip away further into the bustling crowd as more people flood the dance floor and the strobing lights make it harder to see.
Looking back as you near the exit doors, you already catch him at the edge of the crowd. Shoulders squared, his head turning like a predator scenting for prey before those keen sharp eyes lock on you.
You flash a cheeky smile and give a little wave before slipping right out the exit doors, confident you made that muscle in his jaw tick.
You breathe in the night air as you exit, before turning to stroll down the alleyway just next to the club when you hear him call your name once–sharp, clipped, and irritated. You keep your pace, a small grin on your face while you hear the fast, steady, and heavy pace of his footsteps. He’s not running. He doesn’t need to, he moves like someone who knows he’ll catch you no matter what you do.
“Enough.”
The word lands on your ears like a gunshot. You spin just in time to see Ghost halfway to you. You take a step back and turn to bolt. You make it maybe three strides before a hand closes around your wrist like steel. Ghost pulls you back so fast your breath leaves you in a small, embarrassing yelp.
He turns you around, pinning you against the rough brick wall with his body sealing the space, his forearm braced near your head to cage you in. You can feel the heat coming off him, feel the way his chest rises and falls harder than usual. He’s not winded. He’s pissed.
“Run again,” he growls, voice low and gravelly through his mask, “and I’ll throw you over my shoulder.” Your typical cheeky smile is in place as you grin up at him. “Aw, you came all this way for me?”
His jaw flexes, but this time it's the kind of flex that means you’re two seconds away from being manhandled back into the car.
“Stop laughing,” he says, stepping closer, “and listen. Just once in your life.” “I am listening,” you say sweetly. “Just not obeying.”
His gloved hand comes up fast–not to grab you, but to brace beside your head as he leans in. You can feel his breath ghost across your cheek, warm and heavy. He’s close. Too close.
“If you’re done testing my patience,” he says, each word dragged through his teeth, “get in the damn car.” You arch a brow. “You gonna drag me there if I say no?”
His eyes, the only part of his face you can see, narrow dangerously, something dark glitters in them. “You think this is a game.” It’s more of a statement than a question.
“It’s a little fun,” you admit, “Watching you get all tense… clenching your jaw like you’re dying to yell at me but can’t because–” “Because it means someone could’ve touched you.” His voice drops lower, the anger shifting into something darker, more raw. “Because you walked off in a club crowded with half-drunk men staring at you like you were an easy target. You don’t pull shit like that again… not with all the eyes on you. Not with the threats against you. Not with me responsible for keeping you breathing.”
You don’t smile this time.
Ghost’s hand moves carefully to your cheek, his thumb skimming along your jaw. The contact is shockingly gentle for someone who just chased you down with his chest heaving with fury. You swallow lightly, your pulse jumps. He feels it, you know he does–he’s too close not to.
For a moment, neither of you speaks. A gentle blow of the night air down the alley makes you shiver. A small pout on your lips as his words sink in, knowing you might’ve over done it this time. Ghost’s eyes flick to your mouth for a second. He drops his hands, steps back, and forces his control into place. “Now,” his tone is razor-thin, “get in the car.”
This time you listen. Careful steps forward, only glancing back once to see if he’s behind you. Sure enough, he’s on you like he’s your shadow. Those dark eyes locking onto yours immediately, making you snap your head forward and a small blush creeps its way across your cheeks.
Heat creeps up your neck as you walk to the car, feeling absurdly like you’re being marched in for booking. As you leave the alleyway and start walking past the entrance to the club again, you spot your friends outside, no doubt looking for you too. “Girl! Where did you go!? We were frantic lookin’ for you, c’mon babe, they’re playing your song!” One of your friends squeals to you, but the excitement in their voice dies down when they see the deathglare coming from your bodyguard. “O-or on second thought… we’ll catch up later.” They practically clamber over each other to get back inside the club and out of sight of the pissed off man behind you. You let out a small giggle to yourself, you love your friends dearly, but you know Ghost would never hurt anyone you care about. You think, at least. He’s never mentioned any acts of violence against your friends, anyways.
“What’s funny?” Ghost’s voice wraps around you like smoke, and you shrug your shoulders nonchalantly, not wanting to seem as though his alleyway speech got to you. “Nothing, sir.” You chastise him on the last bit as he opens the car door for you, missing the way his hand grips the door a little harder than necessary as you lower yourself into the vehicle.
He shuts the door after you’re properly in and shakes his head as he walks around to the driver’s side. He hates how easily he lets you under his skin. He opens his own side and settles in, grip tight around the steering wheel as his mind replays the alleyway. Of how your pulse jumped at his touch, your pouty lips, how your eyes–he grunts and resituates himself in his seat to clear his head of the thoughts. He busies his other hand with the gearshift as he drives you both back home. As Ghost drives and you silently stare out the window, no doubt pouting again to yourself now, he glances briefly over to where you sit in the passenger seat. Silence passes between the two of you but the tension doesn’t leave. It clings…. Thick, electric, and hungry. Something tells you both this isn’t the end of it. Not even close.
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i post these so confidently like ppl read them and theyre not flops but u know what... sometimes its fun to just write el-oh-el. thinking of doing a 3 part or thing like the roomies au to this bc i got some wicked smut/smut-tension ideas for bodyguard ghost.... like god can u imagine...
