Harry Styles Imagines Book 2

Untitled Imagines 1

Her brows furrowed and she turned her head, realizing that she had left the canvas on the coffee table and the pallet with paint smeared on it. Suddenly she feels embarrassed, wishing she would have put that away, “I was. .I was trying to. I’m not very good though.”

“I’m sure you’re plenty good.”

Y/N sighed with a pout, “You have to say that,” she complains, trying to relax a bit, letting her shoulders slouch as she played into her whine,  “You’re like – paid to be nice to me.”

Harry shook his head, “I’m paid to watch over you,” he corrected her, “I’m not paid to be nice.”

or

Harry is Y/N’s new bodyguard and Y/N’s sure they’ve met before

i.

Y/N was bored.

It was cold outside; the kind of bitter chill that even the thought of makes her muscles stiff. Snow flurries fluttered through the sky on and off all day but no matter how frigid she perceives the weather to be, it wasn’t near cold enough for any of it to stick. The pavement below remained grey, dull, and wet as she looked at it from her flat window, her chin sat in her hand, a pout set on her mouth. She didn’t necessarily wish for snow (it was pretty when it fell and while it was unmarred by footprints and dirt, after that, it was more troublesome than anything), but at the very least it would be something to look at. Plus, it would give her a good reason to be stuck inside.

Not that the reason given to her wasn’t a good reason, it was just…a boring reason. The same reason she gets again and again and again:

It isn’t safe for you to be outside right now.

Y/N had been hearing that excuse her whole life, from the very moment she could listen and understand what her parents were saying to her. It was rarely ever totally safe for her to be out and about, but some days (or weeks…or months) were particularly more dangerous than others, depending on a variety of factors, she guesses – mostly whatever was going on with her parent’s work. But that was always evolving, constantly shifting, growing, getting bigger, slithery tendrils expanding out over the city, and neighboring cities. And the bigger something is, the more people are aware of it, the more risks are presented.

The money is nice, sure, Y/N has never had to want for anything so she couldn’t complain about things like that and she wouldn’t (she deemed it foolish when wealthy people bleated and moaned about how money can’t buy happiness; it couldn’t, but it certainly made life easier, and an easy life can be a happy life), she only wishes that things were a touch different. That her father’s “business” didn’t involve bodyguards and homeschooling and curfews because staying out past 11 PM on a Friday spelled out imminent peril for whatever reason. That she could just be a bubble-headed rich kid with the world in the palm of her hands and no true concept of reality outside of designer brands, ivy league schools she could pay her way into, and socialite parties she could get sloshed at.

Maybe that would be closer to her life if her parents weren’t so horribly paranoid about her safety, but they were, and that’s fine. She couldn’t blame them – things had happened that would make anyone anxious over the safety of their child, so she doesn’t resent them for it. At the end of the day, she’d always been granted a full belly and a roof over her head; maybe emotionally they were a touch absent, but her basic needs had been met and for that she’s grateful.

She just wishes things were a little different sometimes, that’s all.

So now Y/N is sitting at her window, swinging her legs and trying hard not to pout too much about not being able to see her friends. Being in her 20s, she had sort of imagined her parents no longer being able to dictate whether or not she went out for dinner or drinks anymore but they still had a grip over plans like that in circumstances like this. Which sucks, but at least Adam is the one guarding her door today, so she gets to whine and brat about it. He’s one of the few who endures it and humors her when she does it – a lot of the others are just sullen and quiet like they don’t know if they could respond or not.