pillowtalk zayn ♥︎ ⇄ ◁◁ 𝚰𝚰 ▷▷ ↻ ⁰⁰'²⁵ ━━●━━───── ⁰²'⁰⁸

Madison is used to being adored. By fans, by cameras, by people who see her as something untouchable. But you— her bodyguard— you don’t adore. You protect. You stand at her side with steady hands and a sharp gaze, treating her not like a dream but like a duty.

It drives her insane.

"You take your job too seriously," she muses, lying across the hotel bed, voice light with amusement. And she's teasing you; again.

You don’t respond right away. You’re stationed by the door, arms crossed, suit pressed, every inch the professional you’re supposed to be. The New York City glows beyond the balcony, neon lights flickering through the curtains. She’s been teasing you all night— soft glances, small smiles, comments meant to pull some kind of reaction from you.

"I take your safety seriously," you say finally.

She hums, propping herself up on her elbows. "That so?" She does this often. The lingering looks, the casual closeness, the way she says your name like she’s testing something.

You pretend not to notice. You pretend her perfume doesn’t stay with you and linger on your suit long after she’s gone, that her voice doesn’t echo in your head at the worst possible times. You pretend she’s just another job.

But tonight, she’s watching you differently. "Stay a little longer," she says, quiet but certain.

Your jaw tightens. It’s late. You should leave. Your own room is just a few doors down, close enough to be practical, far enough to be safe. But her voice is softer this time, and for once, there’s no teasing laced in her words. Just something honest.