#bodyguard!Joel

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Her Bodyguard, His Shining Star Part 1: Kiss Me at Coachella✨

Bodyguard! Joel Miller x singer fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: I do not know what came over me, but this was heavily inspired after watching Sabrina Carpenter’s “Espresso” Coachella performance. This one shot took over my whole Saturday and Sunday! Thank you to @mountainsandmayhem for helping me with a title and the mood board and for being my beta! 🩷 This is both in Joel and reader’s POV. Comments and reblogs make my day. Enjoy, lovelies!

Summary: You’re performing at Coachella, throwing winks and flirting with your eyes as Joel Miller watches you from the side of the stage. He’s your bodyguard, and he should know better, but he wants you just as much as you want him.

Word Count: 8.1k

Rating: 18+ Only MDNI

Tags: Fluff, flirting, pining, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, cute pet names, unprotected p in v, switching POVs, reader is a singer, Joel is a bodyguard, reader has long hair, large age gap (reader is 25, Joel is 44)

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The warm sun glows against your glittering skin, the music pumping like sugary coffee running through your veins. The crowd chants along with you, singing every lyric you do while they hold their phones and snap videos while you twirl around to the rhythm of the upbeat song. You flash them big smiles, pose for the camera, sway your hips while your dancers match your cute little moves. You’re exhausted, almost done with your set at Coachella, but the flaming energy of the crowd keeps you going. 

   You spin around, pop your hip out and wave flirtatiously to Joel at the end of the stairs on the side stage. He shakes his head, chuckling to himself while he tries to act professional. That’s what bodyguards do, right? Stay professional? And he did, he really did, but you liked to tease him just a bit sometimes, get him all riled up if you could. 

   You see the smug smirk he tries to hide behind that patchy, greying scruff, watch the way those gorgeous honey flecked eyes scan your body. He can try to be coy all he wants, but you’ll call him on his bluff. The man is attracted to you, just like you are to him. But you can’t help it, he’s drop dead gorgeous. The way his grey threaded dark curls catch the sun rays, his ripped muscles cling to the flannels and tight t-shirts he wears on a daily basis, his corded veins spiral down his tanned arms, the way he towers over you every time he stands next to you, his deep Southern drawl that sends you into heat every time he graces you with that thick honey-like voice, and the way he’s so protective over you. But you also can’t forget that he's twice your age, which makes him even hotter. 

   You shouldn’t want it, want him, but you do. God, you do. At night when you’re in between your silky sheets with your fingers rubbing between your legs, you’re thinking of him. Those big, meaty hands, that rough tongue, his deep, gravelly voice that must sound so sweet filled with dirty words. You can’t help yourself, you want Joel Miller, your bodyguard. 

   He watches you strut the lit up stage, the sparkles on your pink dress catching the flecks of his wandering eyes. He thinks you look so gorgeous twirling around in that short tease of a dress. Every time you bend over or spin around, he can see those skimpy short shorts that barely cover the globes of your ass. You like the attention though, love to tease the crowd just like you’re teasing him now. 

   He sees the discrete winks you throw his way on the stage, the way you lick those plump, glossy lips that seem to call directly to him. You’re trying to get a reaction out of him. He knows you too well. You may be flirting with the starving crowd who begs for more, but you’re also flirting with him. And he can’t help but get drawn into those beautiful eyes of yours that glisten in the sunlight, can’t help the way his cock is straining against the zipper of his denim jeans right now, precum spilling over the tip thinking about thrusting between those pretty legs of yours. He wants you so fucking badly, and you have no idea.

   You twirl your curls flirtatiously around your finger, flipping your hair behind your shoulders while he watches from the corner of the stage, pretending like that’s his hand wrapped around your flowing locks. Another wink his way and he’s mush against the edge of the stage. Maybe you are trying to get a reaction out of him, you just love to tease him, but he loves it just the same. You’re nothing but a little troublemaker.

   He thinks about you all the time on those lonely nights on long tours, when he’s under his pristine sheets that graze against his hardening cock. He whispers your name under his breath when he’s stroking himself, pretending his hand is yours gliding over him, spreading precum with your soft hands, your pretty mouth. And when he cums he thinks of your glittering eyes, imagines you encouraging him on while he spills hot ropes of cum all over his soft tummy. 

   He may feel a little guilty after doing that, those dirty thoughts that swirl in his head night after night, but there’s no way in hell he feels bad about doing it. He’d have you every day if it was up to him. Oh, yes. He’d ravage your body till you had nothing left to give but your own breath that blows gently against his hungry lips. Damned if he does, and damned if he doesn’t. Either way he’s completely fucked. 

   The end of your routine is drawing close, the last number halfway over while the sun kisses your tanned skin. He knows you’re tired, can see it in the sweat that glistens like diamonds down your dainty arms. He’d go and scoop you up in his arms, let you wrap your own around his neck while he carried you to safety, away from prying vultures in the crowd, but he knows paparazzi would snap those pictures in a heartbeat and cause a scene in the tabloids. The pop princess and bodyguard have a scandalous affair at Coachella together. He scoffs at the thought. Fucking idiots starving for a shiny penny to add to their useless names. 

   The moment you sing your last line, you wave to the crowd and blow kisses to the rowdy audience. “Thank you, Coachella! See you next year!” They chant your name, begging for one more song, but your time is up. So you exit the stage all smiles with glitter falling to the ground, keeping your glow until you get to the edge of the stage. 

   Joel’s right there waiting for you, a water bottle and small towel in hand, just like he always does. He looks so good in his tight black t-shirt, sleeves pulling at his bulging biceps while his dark jeans hug his meaty thighs tightly. He always looks so good that you feel dizzy when he takes your hand and helps you down the stairs and off the buzzing stage. 

   Your breath catches in your throat when he closes his thick, calloused fingers over yours, his honey eyes bright and alert when he hands you the water bottle and dabs your sweaty forehead with the soft towel. You could melt into a puddle right here and now the way he’s looking at you all protective and warm-like. 

   “You really gave them a show today, darlin’,” he drawls as his dark flecks of warmth serenade you with attention.

   “Yeah, you think so?” 

   “Mhm,” he hums, staying attentive to you while he watches you take a sip of water. 

   “Did I give you a show, too?” you ask all flirtatiously, batting your long eyelashes up at him as you slide your tongue slowly over your glossy lips, licking off a droplet of water. 

   His cheeks grow red, eyebrows fusing together as he shakes his head and runs a large hand slowly through those messy curls you so want to run your own fingers through. “C’mon, trouble. Let’s jus’ get you back to the trailer.” He grabs your elbow and drags you through the winding backstage area, dodging cords and other performers that stand in your way.

   You follow next to him, quick to stay on his trail while fans scream from the right behind barricades when they see you. Joel pushes you to the left, lingering his large hands on you just a few seconds too long while he works to keep you safe. You know it’s his job, but it turns you on at the sight of him watching out for you, keeping a hand firmly on your arm, making sure no one else touches you but him. 

   Maybe it’s a lovesick fantasy, a fever dream that you and Joel could be more than this. More than just a bodyguard who’s just doing his job to watch out for you. You feel it, that sexual chemistry when you’re near each other, even in a large crowd that won’t stop screaming your name, demanding pictures and autographs while he pushes them away from your reach. You feel it in his heated stare, the brush of his calloused fingertips on your tanned skin, the devilish smirk he gives you when you tease him or say something you shouldn’t. You know he feels it, too. He has to. He’s just as delusional and lovesick as you. You see it in the glow of those amber eyes. He knows.

   “So, you have a free night tonight, huh?” you ask as you keep your fingers curled around the soft fabric of his t-shirt. 

   “Sure, if you call keepin’ you out of trouble free time,” he chuckles, his brown eyes gazing back toward you, just enough to paint streaks of dark pink over your already blush caked cheeks. 

   “Me, trouble? Never,” you tease while you flash him a bright smile. 

   “Oh, you’re trouble alright. But you’re not the one I’m worried about. These Coachella fans can get pretty intense. I’d jus’ feel better if I was watchin’ out for you is all.”

   “You don’t want a night off though?”

   He looks back toward you and knits his eyebrows together, concern lathered all in those brown doe eyes of his. It makes you weak in the knees. “I’m alright. Besides, you’re not bad company to have.” He nudges you with his elbow and winks your way, completely knocking the breath from you. 

   Did Joel Miller just say you were good company? A quiet, reserved guy like him likes your company? The one that would rather grab a drink at the bar alone and sit in silence with a good book while no one bothers him? Guess you did have an affect on him afterall. 

   “Not bad company?” you giggle as you push against his shoulder. 

   “Not bad at all, darlin’. You’re jus’ the kind I need,” he says with a hidden smirk under that salt-and-pepper scruff you want to drag your fingers through. Yeah, you’re just what he needs.

   Suddenly, a screaming fan comes from your left, some psycho that escaped through the wrought iron fence who stomps your way. He charges over to you, calling your name as his spindly fingers close over your arm, his other hand clawing at your pink sparkly dress. “Let me take a picture, please! I love you, I drove hours just to see you sing. Please!”

   Joel rips the guy's hands off your body, pinning his hands behind his back against a caged off area while you fight to catch your breath. Your heart thunders in your chest watching Joel being so protective, possessive over you while the fan begs for mercy against Joel’s tight grip. 

   “Keep your fuckin’ filthy hands off of her! She’s not a toy you can just grab and demand things from. She didn’t give you permission, didn’t ask for you to claw at her dress. So I suggest you walk back out to the general admission area and stay the fuck away from her. Understood?!” His voice sounds like crackling thunder, that deep rugged breath towering over the cowering fan as he makes red marks over the fan’s useless wrists. Joel was just doing his job, one he was damn good at. But he made it look so sexy. 

   You stare in amazement, blinking through your thick lashes while you watch Joel shove the crazed fan through the fence, warning him to keep his distance or else he’ll wish he never stepped foot into the music festival. You gawk at him, watching the way his muscles flex underneath his t-shirt, watching the scowl across his mouth darken his menacing eyes. He’s a dominant wolf protecting his pack, and his pack is you. 

   You watch his flared nostrils and harsh eyes soften when he turns and looks at you, one of his large hands coming to clasp around your wrist while he assesses your wide-eyed features. “You okay?”

   You nod your head slowly, keeping your gaze on him as he makes sure you’re alright. “Really, I’m fine, Joel. Thank you.”

   Before he can manage a reply back to you, blinding cameras start flashing before your eyes, paparazzi swarming you as they just assessed the scene. They throw questions at you, screaming your name while you try to drown out their echoing voices. 

   You stick like glue to Joel’s side, latching your arms around his strong torso while you hide your face in his t-shirt beneath his shoulder. Joel wraps a protective arm around your back and guides you to safety. 

   “Get back! She ain’t answerin’ questions right now, she jus’ got off the stage. Leave her alone!” His deep voice hounds them, barking strict orders for them to stay back. 

   You’re so thankful for Joel right now, your knight in shining armor steering you to safety. The blinding lights start to slowly fade away, the reaching hands and firm demands slipping away once you enter the safe vicinity of your tour trailer. 

   Joel unfolds you from his safe grasp, turns you around and places one hand gently under your chin as if to say it’s okay, baby girl. They’re gone. He scans your frightened eyes, but you melt into a relaxed state when he looks at you with those concerned honey eyes that swallow you whole. 

   “You sure you’re alright?” he asks with eyebrows furrowed together in a panicked state. 

   “I am now. Thanks for saving me. You’re my hero,” you smile as he lets out a sigh of relief and shakes his head. 

   “Jus’ doin’ my job, sweetheart. Can’t help it that everyone wants a piece of you. Gotta protect the shining star,” he winks, nearly sending you over the edge of the steps to your trailer. 

   “Well, you’re pretty great at your job, Miller. Best bodyguard ever,” you flirt as you poke him playfully in the chest. 

   “Alright, little pop star. Why don’t you go relax for a bit? I’ll be out here, be sure to fight off any more paparazzi parasites,” he smiles while he watches you twist the handle and enter your safe haven. 

   “Joel?” you call before you close the door. 

   “Hmm?” he asks as he twists around and faces you with gentle brown eyes. 

   “Go easy on them.”

   He just rolls his eyes and shakes his tousled curls off his sweaty forehead. “Sure thing, darlin’. Alright now, go on. Get in there,” he instructs as he nods to your room. 

   You huff out and slump your shoulders, pretending like it’s the biggest chore in the world. He ticks his jaw and raises an eyebrow at you that tells you he’s not messing around, so you fully oblige his request. “Alright, alright. I’m going,” you sigh. 

   “Attagirl,” he chuckles. 

   Your cheeks burn red as he leaves you with the hottest word before you close the door with a jolt. Attagirl. The word rushes through you, straight to your core where you feel a bit of slick build against your sticky lace. How can a man get you turned on with just one word? Well, it’s Joel Miller, and the man can make you wet with the wink of those pretty brown eyes, but Attagirl was next level. It was borderline porn to your ears. 

   When you hear the click of the door close you take a second to breathe, leaning up against the sealed door while you flick the lights on and try to calm your racing nerves. You assess your pristine room, taking in the white walls hung with pink fairy lights. The glow from your vanity mirror lights up the little corner where your sparkly makeup sits neatly together. The pink velvet sectional sits up against the middle of the wall where a picture of Marilyn Monroe hangs right above that. Soft pink colors cover the room, and you feel suddenly at ease in the protection of your trailer. 

   You meander toward the vanity mirror, assessing your perfect makeup that still stays intact on your glowing face. The sparkling pink eyeshadow mixes in with the sharp wings of black eyeliner that frames your soft eyes. Shimmery pink lip gloss coats your plump lips, and the blush stands out against your tanned skin. Your spiral curls flow gently over your shoulders, and your sparkly dress hugs all your curves in the right places. 

   You suddenly want to be free of your costume, wanting to throw on a pair of cutoff jean shorts and an oversized t-shirt. When you turn your back to the mirror and try to unzip your dress, it gets stuck just a couple inches from the top. 

   “Oh, come on. Work with me.” You fight the zipper again, tugging with all your might until you grit your teeth together and curse under your breath. This is not what you need right now. You want out of this dress, out of these high heels, out of these smothering tights. 

   You stomp your heel into the plush carpet, folding your arms across your cleavage as you decipher just what to do. Lacy, your assistant, is tied up in important meetings for the rest of the afternoon. She’s nowhere near your little trailer. Your makeup artist is busy helping other performers, so you have no other options. Joel is the only one…

   You gulp, take a long look at your flushed cheeks just thinking of having Joel Miller unzip your dress. It’s harmless, really, but not if he’s doing it. That would only lead to one thing. Giving into pure desire, temptation, need. 

   “Fuck it,” you whisper to yourself, “if a show is what he wants, then a show is what he’ll get.”

   You tiptoe to the door, hovering your hand over the handle as you take a deep breath and breathe in and out slowly. It’s just a zipper, only a zipper. He could always say no, leave you stranded while you’re stuck in your dress the entire evening. He wouldn’t do that though, leave you helpless while you fight to rip the tight dress off your body. He just wouldn’t allow that. No way. 

   You take one more deep breath and open the door slowly, slipping your head out as you see Joel standing at the bottom of your trailer steps. You clear your throat and watch him turn his head quickly in your direction, leaving his guard wide open as he assesses your distressed face. “Umm, Joel. Can you do me a favor?”

   His eyebrows knit together while his eyes glaze over your body. “What is it, darlin’?” His doe eyes lean into yours, and you can barely muster up any words while he looks at you like that, all caring and deep. 

   “Well, my zipper got stuck in the back, and I can’t get it down. Do you think you can help?” you ask shyly, your eyes looking up nervously through your long lashes. 

   “Uhh, where’s Lacy? I can go grab her, let her help ya out.”

   “No!” You reach out an arm and grab his wrist tightly, watching his brown eyes widen at your sudden contact on his tanned skin. 

   “No?” he asks confused, his breath picking up underneath his dark t-shirt. 

   “I mean, she’s in meetings for the rest of the afternoon. She’s nowhere near the trailer. And I’m awfully uncomfortable in this tight dress. Do you think you can just come in really quick and help?”

   He gulps down a breath, his heartbeat picking up incredibly fast while he looks into your gorgeous eyes. How can he say no to that? He can’t, so he won’t. He rakes a hand slowly through his greying scruff and nods your way. 

   “‘Course I’ll help, sweetheart. C’mon then.” He places a hand gently on your lower back and leads you into the glowing lights of the trailer, letting the door close with a bang as he guides you to the middle of the room. 

   “Turn around for me, sweetheart,” he asks nicely as you oblige and turn your back toward him. 

   He looks at your undone zipper, sees where it’s stuck in the pink fabric of the dress. Of course he’d be the only one around to help you, of all things a fucking stuck zipper on you. He has no resistance when it comes to you, he just can’t say no to that pretty face of yours. 

   “Zipper’s jus’ caught in the fabric. Should just take a little tugging,” he says with gritted teeth, pulling on the zipper while he holds the silky fabric tight with his other hand. 

   After a few seconds of fighting the dress, he gets it free of the catching fabric. He slowly unzips the back of your sparkling dress, going ever so slowly as if not to make a single sound. The only sounds he hears are your quick breaths, the beating of his own racing heart, and the noise of tugging you free of the suffocating, tight dress. 

   He watches it stop at the end of your curvy hips, catching the way your skin seems to shimmer as your flawless skin comes into his line of vision. He sees the way the dress falls open in the back, your skin begging to be touched, to be stroked as it beckons him closer and closer until he’s hovering above your hot skin. 

   He knows he shouldn’t linger, shouldn’t hover over the glow of your exposed skin, but it’s almost sinful not to touch you when the glitter of your undertones calls directly to him. He gives in, stealing just a touch as he rubs his fingers slowly down your spine. 

   You squirm beneath his touch, tingling sensations running wildly down your skin with each touch he takes from you. You ravish in it, holding your breath while he takes his time dipping across the curve of your back. 

   He leans into you, ghosting his lips across your neckline while he breathes you in deep. He smells the vanilla scent of your perfume, lilac breezing through your soft curls, and can even smell the cherry flavor of your glittery lip gloss. You must taste so good, he can already feel your soft lips against his while he takes his other hand and moves your curls over the left side of your shoulder. 

   You turn your head back gradually, exposing the veins in your slender neck while it gives him access to dip his lips against the curve of your neck. “Joel,” you whisper out, your insides shaking as the hand on your back sinks down to the curve of your hip. 

   He can’t respond, too lost in your delicious scent while his hand dances against the silk of your tempting skin. He’s a bad man, putting himself in this vulnerable position where he’s alone with you, with your zipper completely down and your dress barely holding itself against your perfect body. 

   He should go back outside, stay away from your midnight eyes, your luscious locks, your sweet smelling perfume, but he can’t. He just can’t. He’d rather die than to leave you alone now, untouched, not taken care of. He’s your bodyguard, he’s paid to take care of you. So he will, in every way that he can. He’ll have his way with you. If your zipper can be fixed then who's to say that ache between your legs can’t, too? 

   He spins you around, your chest pressed flush against his while he slowly backs you up against the wall, caging you in with his strong arms while he breathes in your sweet vanilla scent that drives him wild. He sees the cleavage practically spilling from the top of your undone dress, wants to fucking rip it to shreds until there’s nothing left but your glowing skin under the tips of his pressing fingers. 

   He takes a hand and pushes back a strand of curls behind your ear, lingering his thick fingers along your jawline while you breathe in the woodsy mahogany smell, his expensive cologne that you could lather yourself in just to smell like him. He’s so close that he could lean down and press his lips to yours, so close that you could twist your fingers through those lush curls that you so desperately want to meld your fingers to. 

   You’ve never been this close to him before, to where you can see just how pretty and clear his brown flecked eyes are. You’re driving yourself into dangerous territory, but you don’t care. No one’s here to stop you from making any mistakes, and Joel is not a mistake.

   He hovers over you, dragging his lips against your jawline and stopping at the shell of your ear, lingering there while his meaty hands dig into the curve of your hips. “We shouldn’t… I shouldn’t,” he says with gritted teeth, painfully dragging out the words while he tickles the shell of your ear with his plush lips. 

   “Why not?” you whine pathetically as you place a hand under his shirt, making him jump while you graze over the happy trail that leads underneath his jeans. It makes a deep groan slip from his throat. 

   “I’m twice your age. You jus’ turned twenty-five, I’m pushing forty-five. I’m your bodyguard. I should be more respectful, shouldn’t give in to a pretty thing like you,” he murmurs as he feels his cock hardening beneath the denim of his jeans. 

   “I don’t care that you’re older or that you’re my bodyguard,” you mumble as your fingers tug the leather belt free from his jeans. 

   He groans, licking the edge of your ear while he fights to find an ounce of control in his desperate body. He finds none. “We shouldn’t, darlin’. It’d be irresponsible on my part. What if the paparazzi found out? They’d turn the headlines into a hell of a mess. Hell, your publicist would kill me,” he says defeatedly while his hands stay glued to your hips. 

   “I don’t care what my publicist says, I don’t care about the paparazzi. I know what I want, Joel. I know you want it, too. Just as much as I do.”

   He groans against you, doing his best to resist you, but he can’t. He’s a weak man for you, and he’ll give in with the snap of your fingers. He’s got no fight left in him, he’s all yours. “Are you sure, sweetheart? You want this? Want me?”

   You grip tighter to his jeans, dragging his hips flush against yours as you feel the swell of his cock through the denim. He’s so fucking big, and you haven’t even seen him yet. “Yes, Joel. Please. Want you, only you,” you stifle out a moan as his lips trail against your neck, gently nipping and sucking against your sensitive areas while his hands ghost over the curve of your breasts. 

   “God, I can’t say no to you, gorgeous. You don’t even know what you do to me every time I see you up on that stage, singin’ with that angelic voice of yours, dancin’ around all flirtatiously while you make me so fuckin’ hard beneath my jeans.”

   You groan at his filthy words, letting him spread your legs while one of his parts your legs wider. One hand trailing up your inner thigh while his other slowly pulls against the top of your pink dress. “You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted to do this for so long, how much I’ve wanted to press my face between those thick thighs of yours,” he groans as he trails his lips against the cleavage of your dress. 

   “Probably just as long as I’ve wanted you to,” you pant out as he tugs at the hem of your dress. 

   “Yeah, s’that right?” he teases, dragging his teeth lower down your breasts. 

   “Mhm. Joel, fuck. Taste me, touch me, fuck me,” you beg as you wrap your arms around his neck. 

   “Fuck you, hmm? That what you want?” he teases while he slowly pulls your dress free, hearing it drop to the floor when all you’re left in is your shorts and tights. 

   “Yes, please. Want you, need you to touch me. Do it, Joel. Please,” you whine, twisting your fingers around the curls around the base of his neck.

   He chuckles out, sucking in a breath as he fully obliges your request. “Alright, pretty pop star. If that’s what you want, how can I say no to you?”

   He leaves you with no warning, cupping one breast in his large palm while he sucks on your other one, running his tongue in circles until your nipples are pebbled and swollen beneath his tongue, his mouth, his hands. He does the same to the other one, languidly sliding his tongue over the pebbled bud while he massages your breasts with his calloused fingers. 

   He bathes in your moans, making certain to get you all worked up where he knows you’re already soaking beneath your panties. That’s where he wants you wet, begging for him to touch you. 

   “Joel,” you whine, feeling his fingers fall free from your pebbled breasts. 

   “I know, baby. I know. Don’t worry, gonna take care of my girl.”

   Before you can speak, he cups your face and sinks his plush lips against the gloss of yours, melding his mouth to yours while he tastes the cherry flavor of your lip gloss. You part your lips for him, inviting him in as you feel him lick feverishly into your mouth. Your tongues dance together in unison, allowing him to tangle his with yours while he revels in your pretty moans against his hungry mouth. He’s starving for you, absolutely famished while he takes and takes from you, letting his tongue explore the entirety of your open mouth. If you taste this good, just think how absolutely divine you must be between your legs.

   His hands roam down to your shorts, slipping his fingers inside the waistband and tugging them free of your skin. You step out of your high heels, kick the pink shorts aside and allow his mouth to break free of yours. You pant tirelessly, watching him kneel between your legs as he starts to run his fingers up and down your thighs. 

   He looks up at you, his eyes becoming dark pits that consume him whole. He’s feral for you, and he won’t stop till he has every last drop from you. “You have another pair of these?” he asks, nodding to your tights. 

   “I’ve got a million pairs,” you say out of breath. 

   He smirks up at you before he tears into the flesh of your tights, ripping them to shreds while one of his large hands meets the lace of your panties. “What about these, hmm? Gonna miss these?”

   You shake your head, unable to get a word out as you swallow a whine in the back of your throat. “No?” he asks all deep and gravelly while his thumb traces against the edge of your lace, sliding down to put some pressure between your drenched lips. 

   You throw your head back and whine, begging him to continue on. “No, Joel. Just take them off, please. Need you,” you breathe out desperately. 

   “That’s all you had to say, sweetheart.” He takes no time, ripping into the seam of your panties as you watch him split them in half, throwing them in a pile on the floor while his eyes blow wide when he takes in the bare sight of you. 

   He groans to himself, dragging a finger through your wet arousal, parting you in the middle as he hears the sloshing sounds come from his thumb spreading the wetness all across your dripping core. He inhales you, reveling in the pretty noises you make while he takes his time exploring you, gathering the slick on his calloused fingers as he burns the sight of your messy pussy in the back of his brain. 

   “Shit, baby. Already so fuckin’ wet for me. This what I do to you, hmm? You always this wet around me?”

   “Mhm,” you moan, feeling his fingers pull you apart as more slick pools between your thighs. 

   “All this for me, goddamn. Ain’t I jus’ the luckiest man alive.” He licks a thick stripe up your core, dragging his tongue to lap up the slick that spills from your insides, making you pant out with need as he makes you come undone. “Don’t worry, baby. Gonna take real good care of this pretty pink pussy. Just sit back, relax, and let me do all the work.”

   He doesn’t even give you a chance to breathe, he just dives right in. He takes the flat of his tongue and strokes your folds, working you up and down while he soaks in the sweet taste of you. He hooks one of your pliant legs over his shoulder while you fight to not break already. 

   He drags his nose through the curls above your mound, sucking your swollen clit into his mouth while he breathes in the sensational musk of your pussy, drinking down your sticky arousal that makes his taste buds come to life. He’s never tasted a pussy this sweet before in his life, never quite experienced the high of such an intoxicating body before. He’s wanted you for so long now, and he never even imagined it’d be this good before. 

   “Joel,” you moan above him, wrapping your delicate fingers through his messy curls, driving out a deep groan from him by the way you cling to him. He loves the feel of you in his hair, pulling and tugging while you bite your lower lip and moan his name over and over again. It’s like an addictive drug he’s prescribed to, and he needs more, wants more of you. 

   He slips two digits into your drenched hole, filling you so full while his thick fingers curl and hit that spongy area that makes you see bright lights flash before your eyes. He revels in your moans, eliciting more with every touch and curl of his fingers, with every feverish lick to your messy center. 

   “Yeah? You like that, baby? Feel good?” Joel purrs while he watches you fall apart beneath his fingers. 

   “So good, Joel. Want you to - ahhh,” you whine as he pulls your aching bundle of nerves back into his warm mouth, releasing it with a pop as more slick covers his knuckles. 

   “Mmm, s’that right, sweetheart? Gonna cum for me? C’mon baby girl, go on and soak me,” he purrs. 

   You feel the white hot sensation taking over, feel his long fingers curl up to hit that spot again and again while he pulls your aching clit back into his mouth. And it feels so fucking good that you just can’t hold on any longer. “Joel, I’m gonna… fuck, I’m coming,” you whine as you release your pent up energy, soaking his knuckles while he works you nice and slow, licking at your core as the slick builds on his tongue, drinking you down till he soothes that aching need in his throat. 

   You come down slowly, feeling your body go through the tingling sensations that make you feel so alive. You’ve never had it this good before, not before Joel. He’s going to be the end of your demise. 

   You look down at him between your legs, fingers still curled inside your core while he slowly drags them out of you with a groan from your lips. He pops the digits into his mouth, sucking the sweet release while he moans your name. He looks fucking wrecked, his hair all tousled and messy, wide eyes blown out to black pits that want to devour you whole. The way he’s looking at you makes you think he’s not done with you, and he’s not. Oh no, he��s just getting started. 

   “Such a good girl for me,” he purrs, sliding his calloused fingers up to your hips while he unhooks your leg from his shoulder. “I’m not done with you yet, baby. Now, c’mere.”

   He throws you over his shoulder, a surprised gasp coming from your lips as he takes you over to the velvet couch. He drops you on your hands and knees, not giving you a moment to breathe while he situates himself behind you and spreads your legs wide. 

   He takes a few seconds to admire your glistening core, sitting back on his heels as he rakes a hand slowly over his greying scruff, taking in the absolute beauty that sits before him. He’s never seen a sight like this that he goes head over heels for, sliding his tongue between his teeth as he whispers how fucking perfect you are.

   He groans your name, dragging his thumb up and down your sticky folds while one hand spreads your cheeks wide. He says your name repeatedly, taking in the sight of you in front of him. He thinks you’re so fucking pretty, all messy and dripping just for him. He wants to just slip your scent, your taste into his own cologne, mix the two together until he can only smell you on his body. 

   He licks at your core, spreading you wide while he devours you whole. He pulls at your glistening clit, languidly circling the swollen bud that calls sinfully to him. He wants to give you all the orgasms, drink you down till you have nothing left to give, curl his fingers inside your heated core, work you over till the only thing you can say is his name through your pretty moans. 

   He thrives in the musk of you, the taste of your cherry lips, the sweet saltiness of your warm cum. If he could give it a name, he’d call you his special jasmine flower, known to be the sweetest, most fragrant flower in the world. That’s what you are to him. The rarest flower that ever came into his reach, his life. 

   He licks against your slick folds, working his fingers in and out of your delicious cunt, slurping on your sensitive mound while he drowns it in his own drool, lusting after you until you writhe beneath him and give him another mind blowing orgasm. 

   “Joel, I’m coming, I’m coming,” you cry, spilling yourself all over his digits and inside his heated mouth. He can’t reply, too busy drinking you down as he groans good girl through the taste of you on his large tongue. 

   He swallows all the slick between your thighs, holding you up together while your legs shake uncontrollably. You may have fallen apart on his tongue twice, but he still wants more. He’s greedy like that when something belongs to him. You’re his as far as he’s concerned now, and he always takes care of what’s his. 

   “Joel, wanna… wanna…” you stutter tirelessly, out of breath from the insane orgasm he pulled from your body. 

   “What do ya need, sweetheart? Use your words,” he coaxes, placing a hand gently at the small of your back as he strokes small circles into the heat of your skin.

   “Your cock. Let me suck your cock, make you feel good, too,” you whine out, grinding your teeth together as he gently blows on your aching core. 

   “Not this time, baby. Later. Gotta take care of you first. This time I wanna have my way with you, want your cum dripping down my tongue, making my cock all messy from your sweet release. Wanna bottle you up and make you my own personal brand of whiskey,” he growls as he pulls his t-shirt over his head and frantically slides his jeans and boxers over his feet, disposing the sweaty material on the ground. 

   He hisses as he spreads the precum over his shaft, pumping himself a couple times before he grabs your hips and scoots you back, stifling a moan from your mouth as he plunges his massive cock into your throbbing pussy. 

   “Oh, shit. Joel,” you whine, filling the room with your sweet incantations while he fills you so full of him. 

   “Yeah? You like that, dirty girl? Takin’ this cock so good, squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight,” he growls, pulling your hair back as your head snaps up, his mouth meeting yours as he licks feverishly inside, swallowing your moans while he continues his frantic thrusts into your weeping pussy. 

   He pulls out from you, throwing you on your back while he hooks your legs over his shoulders, rutting back inside you as his cock gets covered in your sticky slick. You throw your arms around his neck while he finds your mouth again, licking inside, moaning your name on the tip of his tongue as he speeds up his thrusts inside you. 

   The sounds are obscene, the wet smacking noises of his hard cock drilling inside your drenched pussy reverberating off the glow of the pristine walls. He releases his mouth from yours, leaning back to take in the gorgeous view that’s you. You’re splayed all over the couch, your perky breasts bouncing up and down with every thrust of his cock, your eyes all glossed over and fucked out while he takes you nice and slow. He thinks you’re a vision, a full on masterpiece that deserves to be displayed in an art gallery, your mouth making that pretty O shape while you chant his name angelically. 

   “Know you’re close, baby. Squeezin’ me so tight, feels so good,” he moans through the grit of his teeth. 

   “Joel, I’m gonna… gonna… fuck,” you whine as you feel that all too familiar white hot sensation rush through your entire body. 

   “Oh yeah, baby. That’s it. Such a good fuckin’ girl. Go on now, soak this cock,” he coaxes. 

   He watches you fall apart beneath him, beautiful, glossy eyes rolling back as you drag your manicured nails down his back, giving him the prettiest moans as you clench around him and release your cum all down his quivering cock. 

   “Good girl,” he praises, talking you through your intense orgasm as he quickens the strokes inside you, reaching heights you never could without him, kissing your cervix with the tip of his cock. It feels so fucking good, and you just gave him the best three orgasms of your life. You’re exhausted, but you need him to finish. You need him inside you. 

   Sweat drips off his forehead, ending in his tousled curls as he bares his teeth, barely able to hold on any longer. “Baby, I’m about to cum. I can’t hold on much longer. Where do you want me, sweetheart? Where do you want me to spill?”

   “Inside Joel, paint me white inside. Cum inside my pussy, please,” you beg. 

   He moans as he calls your name, giving you a couple more thrusts before he paints the insides of your thighs white with hot ropes of cum, throwing his head back as he revels in the ecstasy of filling you up with his seed, claiming you as his own. 

   He pulls out and twists you around, collapsing on his back against the velvet couch while you fall into his chest, his meaty hands holding you tight around the waist while you both come down from your intense orgasmic high. The room smells like sex and sweat, hints of vanilla and cherry flavored lips lingering around the room. It smells like heaven, Joel’s heaven. 

   Through the sounds of rushed breaths and tired bodies, he reaches up and hooks a strand of loose hair behind your ear, lingering his calloused fingers against your jawline while he assesses the beautiful starlights in your eyes. He thinks you’re the most gorgeous girl he’s ever laid eyes on, and now you’re all his. 

   You look at him just the same, memorizing the flecks of dark honey that make up his bright eyes, dragging your fingertips through his salt-and-pepper scruff, letting your other hand glide through his messy tousled curls. He may be your bodyguard who works for you, but now he’s so much more than that. He’s yours, and you’ll never let him go now. 

   “Still think this was a bad idea?” you ask with a raised brow, challenging him to say anything but yes. 

   “Too late for asking me that, sweetheart. I changed my mind. You’re jus’ what I needed,” he smiles, the flecks of his eyes shimmering amber as your own eyes sparkle with bliss. 

   “Glad you came around,” you giggle as he drags his fingers up and down your jawline softly. 

   “All ‘cause of a fuckin’ broken zipper. You know I can’t stop now, sweetheart? One taste of you and now I’m hooked. Afraid I can’t let you go now.”

   You lean into his chest, giving him your best dreamy smile as you trace the ends of a tousled greying curl. “Then don’t. Be mine, Joel.”

   “I’m all yours, sweetheart. All yours,” he whispers before he cups your face and brings your head down, meeting the plush of his lips as he kisses you nice and slow. 

   You melt into him, parting your lips so he can slot his way in, tangling his tongue with yours as you taste yourself in his mouth. You stay like that for minutes, getting lost in his soft touch, his musk, his dreamy eyes. You never want to leave this trailer, never want to be parted from Joel. The only question is, how will you ever be able to keep your hands off him in public? 

   You lean your head into the crevice of his neck, nestling up to his soft scruff that smells like him. You sigh and tangle your fingers with his while he holds you close to his side. “Guess we won’t see any more performances tonight?” 

   “I don’t know, baby,” he chuckles underneath you. “Think we need a shower and some food. Maybe take you for round two afterwards. But it’s up to you. We can either stay here or go watch more of the sets tonight. Whatever you want.”

   You think it over, but ultimately decide on his first offer. “Mmm, I think I’ll go with the first pick. Rather be here with you, in your arms, where it feels right.”

   He sighs, lingering a soft kiss on your cheek as he pushes back a falling curl. “Okay, beautiful. That’s what we’ll do then. You want pepperoni pizza? That’s your favorite, right?”

   “Mhm,” you nod. “Sounds perfect.”

   He chuckles, the chocolate flecks glistening in his pretty eyes. He looks so dreamy, almost unreal that he's underneath you, his skin glowing from the sight of you. “I’ve wanted you for so long, sweetheart. Can’t believe this is actually happening.”

   “I feel the same, Joel. Thought you might’ve caught on sooner with all the flirting I’ve been doing, especially up on stage. I might love getting a crowd pumped up, but there’s nothing more I love than making you blush at the side of the stage.”

   He tips his head back and laughs, his voice all deep and gravelly as he flicks his eyes back to you. “Oh, I caught on, darlin’. Figured you were tryin’ to get a reaction out of me, and you did. Now look at us,” he teases, cupping your chin with the palm of his large hand, causing tingles to run down your spine. 

   “Yeah, just look at us. A pop star and a bodyguard getting off on each other. Thought it’d only happen in my dreams,” you sigh, propping yourself up with your elbow on his sweat covered broad chest. 

   “Well, baby, it’s real. It happened. Reckon you’re mine now, yeah?”

   Your eyes perk up, a huge smile glistening across your shiny lips as you nod your head. “I’m all yours, Joel. As long as you’ll have me.”

   “Baby, I ain’t ever gonna let you go now. You’re all mine, and I’m gonna spend my days protectin’ and lovin’ this pretty pop star. That’s what you are, baby. You’re my shining star.”

   “And you’re my knight in shining bodyguard,” you giggle. 

   “Mhm, sure am, doll. And I don’t plan on ever lettin’ you go.”

   You fold back into his chest, pressing your lips hungrily against his. Eventually he carries you to the shower, helps wash off all the sweat and slick from earlier, until he takes you to your bed and makes love to you all over again. And it continues throughout the whole night, until both of you are passed out in each other's arms. 

   This is where you belong, in the arms of your fierce protector, your handsome bodyguard that you’re head over heels for. Your favorite brown eyed keeper. 

Tags: @laramc-02 @amyispxnk @sawymredfox @burntheedges @vivian-pascal

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[justagalwhowrites]

The Savage and the Sanctuary - Ch. 1: Wrong Foot

Joel takes on a new contract as a bodyguard. A continuation of The Savage and the Sanctuary, a no outbreak TLOU story, from the prologue found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Non-consensual groping (not by Joel.) Mention of grief and child loss. No use of Y/N. Whole fic will be explicit so minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 7.1k

Fic Masterlist | Masterlist | AO3 | Prologue | Next Chapter

Two years later - September 2024

“You really want me for this one?” he asked as he rode up the elevator at the nicest hotel in Austin. Even after two years protecting wealthy assholes, Joel wasn’t used to shit like this. The fast elevators and the plush carpets and the trappings of wealth that provided everything his charges needed. Everything, it seemed, except safety. 

For that, they needed him. 

Protecting people, as it happened, was something Joel was good at. It almost surprised him how good he was at it. It forced him to be aware of what was happening around him for a change instead of just moving through the world like a ghost. It took that awareness for him to even realize just how dead he’d been in the years since the death of his daughter.

Usually, things went fine. Most often, he was shepherding tech or oil executives with inflated egos from business meeting to business meeting while they were in town and looking the other way when they cheated on their wives or put half his salary up their noses. Nothing ever happened with those assholes. 

Occasionally, though, his job got interesting. Rabid fans tried to mob some pop star Joel had never heard of at a club on 6th Street once and he had to carry her out, forcing his way through the crowd before she got crushed. Then there was the supermodel who was posing for photos with fans when one little college-aged fucker thought it would be smart to grab her ass to cop a feel. Joel took a little too much pleasure in punching him so hard that he fell to the floor, knocked clean out. The football player had been the biggest trouble, though. Some hotshot asshole who’d just won the Super Bowl coming back to his college town to party. He picked a fight with the wrong drug dealer and damn near got shot for it, Joel whisking him away and getting winged in the shoulder by the bullet for his trouble. 

He didn’t want to admit, even to himself, that he liked when the work got dicey. Being shot at was the closest to alive Joel has felt in years. Getting to lay out some asshole without the cops trying to arrest him for it had been the highlight of his month. It made him very good at his job and he liked that, both things that surprised him. 

“You’re my best guy,” Tommy said. “You’ve seen more action on this job than almost any of the other guards and they want someone with a good history. Plus you don’t give a shit about… higher profile clientele. I can’t put fuckin’ James on a job with someone he knows, he’ll fan boy over ‘em. Remember when that one band came through?” 

“Jesus,” Joel groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. It had been an easy job but it was one that he’d had to do most of the work on, James practically giddy the entire time. “Yeah, you’re right. So, what, this some pop star or somethin’?” 

“Not sure,” Tommy said. “They’ve been playin’ it real close to the chest, won’t ID ‘em until we sign an NDA.” 

“So you got no idea what we’re workin’ with,” Joel said, grinding his teeth. 

“Just that it’s someone people know,” Tommy said. “Long term contract, real good money. They mentioned a stalker, they’re bringing all the information along on that to review, wanted you to see it before we signed on.” 

Joel nodded slowly. 

“Well,” he said. “Least it’ll be interesting.” 

They made it to the top floor of the hotel, only four doors and Joel fought the urge to laugh. God, this breed of rich asshole was a whole new level. 

Tommy led the way to a door labeled Presidential Suite and knocked, a young woman with close cropped dark hair and a headphone in her ear answered the door. 

“One second,” she said, tapping her headphone before she smiled at the two men. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Miller. My boss prefers to have people come to where she is when she travels, I’m sure you can understand…” 

“Of course,” Tommy said. “Happy to go wherever you need.” 

“Can I get you anything?” She asked, leading the way into a hotel suite that had to be damn near the size of Joel’s entire house. “Coffee? Water? Tea? Also have a variety of Coke I think you call it here if you’d like that.” 

“Water’s fine,” Tommy said. 

“Still, sparkling?” She asked. “Also have cucumber, lemon, mint…” 

“Uh,” Tommy blinked for a moment and Joel fought the urge to laugh. “Still’s fine. None of that other stuff.” 

She nodded before she looked to Joel, her brows raised. 

“Coffee,” he said. “Black.” 

“Of course,” she smiled, leading them to a sitting room and gesturing to a couch. “Quinn will be with you shortly.” 

She disappeared and returned with their drinks, handing them to each of them with a smile before she tapped the headphone again. 

“Thank you,” she said, her voice almost syrupy sweet as she went to another room. “I appreciate you waiting since you’re apparently so willing to try to fuck us over…” 

Tommy’s eyes went wide and he looked at Joel, the conversation becoming almost silent as she closed the door behind her. 

“Definitely ain’t from around here,” Joel said. 

“Guess not,” Tommy said. 

It wasn’t long - Joel only drank half the coffee which was far better than he was expecting it to be - when another door opened, a woman closer to his own age coming out, dressed in an expertly fitted gray suit, her dark hair in long, tiny braids that hung to her waist. Sarah had always liked hair like that, always begged Joel to let her get them. He wished he had whiskey for his coffee. 

The woman was on the phone, too, but she was on speaker. 

“I don’t care,” she said. “You know the deal and I’m not going to just sit here and pretend that you don’t because you decided today was the day to play fucking games. Call me when you want to handle shit like a fucking grown up.” 

She hung up and sat heavily on the couch opposite them, the girl who answered the door almost scurrying into the room and hovering near the large coffee table. The woman in the suit - Quinn, Joel assumed - giving her a single nod and she rushed off, quickly returning with a bottle of water and several folios. 

“Tommy,” Quinn smiled. “While it’s good to see you again, I’m sure you’ll understand when I say I’m looking forward to getting this settled so we can stop meeting like this.” 

Tommy smiled back. 

“Can’t say I disagree,” he said. “Wanted you to have the chance to meet Joel, he’ll be the lead on this contract assuming we go ahead. He’s one of my best guys, got the history you asked for…” 

“I’m sure being your brother doesn’t hurt,” she smiled a little. Joel raised his eyebrows and looked to Tommy but she answered his unspoken question. “We pulled backgrounds for everyone on your payroll. We can’t be too careful.” 

She tossed one of the leather folios on the table. 

“This is what we’re up against,” she said. “Redacted, of course, so you can’t ascertain who my client is but you’ll have access to the full versions should you accept the contract and sign the necessary NDAs. We’ve naturally brought them to the police and they believe the threat is credible. They have a lot of information - some of these were sent to my client’s private residence, for example - and it’s clear they’ve seen my client in person numerous times. We have reason to believe they will follow my client wherever she goes and there is genuine concern for escalation…” 

Tommy picked up the file and looked it over, nodding slowly, before passing a page off to Joel. It was the photo copy of a printed letter. 

You were beautiful today in that green dress. 

One day, you’ll come home to me. One day, I’ll make you see. 

Joel passed the page back to Tommy. 

“I can see why you’re concerned,” Tommy said, handing the folio back. “Don’t seem like anything we can’t handle. I think we’re alright to move forward with the contract as discussed…” 

There was a knock at the door and the girl ran to go answer it, Quinn ignoring it completely. 

“Excellent,” she said, grabbing another folio and passing it over. “This is the contract and the NDA, already reviewed by your legal team. We just require a wet signature.” 

Tommy nodded, looking over the pages, anyway, and Joel was starting to wonder why he’d had to be trotted out like some kind of prize show pony just to sign some damn paperwork when there was a commotion at the door. 

“This really isn’t necessary,” the girl was saying, her voice oddly pleading, the total opposite of how she’d been on the phone. 

“Oh I’m sure Quinn won’t mind,” another voice - a new one but there was a tug of familiarity to it that set Joel’s teeth on edge - said. “I am her favorite client, after all.” 

Quinn’s head snapped in the direction of the sound and, in a sweep of gauzy clothes and floral perfume, you were there. 

Joel recognized you immediately, everything about you seeming to have been built to be remembered. The whole world remembered you, it had been years since he’d been able to escape you. The biggest movie star on the planet, helming major franchises and winning fucking Oscars, on the cover of gossip rags at the fucking grocery store and on billboards advertising perfume and on Saturday Night Live. In person, from the second you appeared, you were a force. Your face, your voice, the way you held yourself, no wonder he always noticed you when you were all around him. No wonder his daughter had been obsessed with you. 

Your face was a poster on her wall, a picture where you had the slightest, confident smile on your lips but your eyes always seemed sad. You turned those eyes to him, ranging over him like you were taking stock and Joel’s heart stuttered before your gaze turned to Tommy and back to Quinn. 

“So glad you got the meeting started without me,” you said, all saccharine sweetness, stepping over Joel’s legs and sitting down on the edge of the couch between him and Tommy. You crossed one elegant leg over the other - your pants ever so slightly sheer so Joel could just make out your thigh below the loose fabric - and leaned forward, taking Joel’s white china coffee cup off the table and helping yourself to a sip with a jingle of your bangles that were piled high on your wrists. You gave him a wink as you did, setting the cup back on its saucer before leaning onto your leg, your arms folded in front of you. “I’m sure the fact that I didn’t know it was happening has nothing to do with wanting to cut me out of the decision making for something that’s going to be apparently integral to my life over the next year.” 

“I just don’t want to bog you down with petty things like this,” Quinn waved you off. “You have enough on your plate, that’s what you pay me for…” 

“Oh I’m sure that’s all it is…” 

Quinn leaned forward, too, meeting your steely gaze from across the table. The knowing smile that had been on her lips just a second earlier was gone. In its place was a no nonsense expression that Joel imagined carried her far when dealing with Hollywood assholes. She, it seemed, was done coddling you. 

“The studios know,” she cut you off. “Someone at the police station leaked it. And they won’t insure you without higher levels of security, especially if you want to spend this much time outside LA. You want to keep working? You need security. At least until we get to the bottom of whoever is sending you letters.” 

“Have you tried telling them how well the tickets will sell when I die?” You asked, brows raised. “I’m sure they’ll be champing at the bit then, especially now that they can just replace me with CGI for whatever isn’t in the can…” 

“That’s not funny,” Quinn said sharply. 

“Oh, come on. It was a little funny.” 

She glared at you. 

“Do you really want someone like that getting close to her?” She asked, her voice almost unsettlingly earnest and gentle. You almost deflated then, giving in. “It’s not safe, babe. I’m trying to keep you safe. It just so happens that it’s also in the studio’s best interest so you don’t have to foot the entire bill.” 

“You must not have told them about the boost in ticket sales, then,” you said wryly. She rolled her eyes. “But fine. If you really think there’s a risk to her? I’ll do it.” 

Joel wondered who this “her” was. Knowing movie stars, probably some tiny fucking dog you carried in your goddamn purse. 

You looked to Joel for a moment, your gaze oddly cutting, like you were seeing through every part of him before turning your attention to Tommy. 

“When does your contract begin then?” 

Tommy glanced at Joel, almost asking if he was actually OK with this. Clearly, this wasn’t what Tommy had expected either. Joel gave a minute shrug. 

“Tomorrow,” Tommy said, looking back to you. “Joel here will be your point man but you’ll also be working with a few other guys from my company. He’ll get you oriented tomorrow and we can work out a way to ensure your protection that’s minimally disruptive to your daily life.” 

You scoffed. 

“Something tells me having a wall of muscle follow me everywhere is going to disruptive,” you said. “But the studio says jump, we say how high, right?” 

“Hey, I don’t make the rules,” Quinn said.

“We all know who does,” you muttered darkly, getting to your feet. “Well, since all this was going to happen whether I wanted it to or not, I think I’m done wasting my time here.” 

You turned to Joel and he found himself in the unnatural position of looking up to someone, his jaw tight as you levied those exacting eyes on him again. 

“See you in the morning,” you said, reaching down and helping yourself to another sip of his coffee with a wink before stepping over his legs and heading out the door in a whirl of soft perfume and flowing fabric. He looked back to the coffee cup. Your lipstick was on the rim.

Joel tried not to think about how you looked at him as Tommy finished up with the formalities, the conversation between his brother and Quinn a drone he couldn’t really make out over the noise in his head as his leg bounced impatiently.

When Tommy had looked at him just now, the silent request for permission, he should have bowed out. He should have said he didn’t want to put his life on the line for some spoiled fucking brat and gone home. But he hadn’t and he couldn’t back out of this now. It didn’t matter how much you made him think of his daughter. It didn’t matter how your eyes seemed to cut him to the quick. He owed Tommy. When he’d started in this business, he’d told his brother that he could do this work and sometimes that meant doing shit he wasn’t comfortable with. He would just have to live with that. 

Eventually, Joel gave up on sitting still. 

“Be downstairs,” he said gruffly to Tommy when the conversation with Quinn lulled for a moment. He didn’t wait for a response before going for the elevator, relieved that it as empty on the way down to the lobby as it had been on the way up. 

But the ground floor of the hotel was not the quiet place it had been when Joel had arrived. Instead, there was a press of people just outside the doors, phones up and loud enough that he could hear them through the glass. He frowned for a moment before he realized what it was, the metal of your bangles catching the light as your arm rose above the crowd, a phone clutched in your hand as you took a selfie. 

“Jesus,” Joel muttered, stalking over toward the door. 

At least, he thought, he wasn’t on duty until tomorrow. If you really wanted to handle shit that bad on your own? Fine by him. 

The doorman held the door for him and Joel gave him a stiff nod as he tried to force his way from the building, but the press of people was becoming suffocating, every inch of sidewalk crammed tight. 

“Can I get a selfie?” 

“My girlfriend loves you, can you say hi to her on video?” 

“Can I have an autograph?” 

“Look, I’m happy to give you all whatever you want,” you said, voice friendly but still curt. “But I need a little room to breathe, OK? I’m not in a rush, we’ve got time, it’s…” 

Someone from the outside edge of the crowd shoved forward, sending the press of people toward you, Joel tall enough that he could see how they tripped and jostled, sending you stumbling into the person at your back. You had to fight for the space to stand up again, the man you’d fallen into’s hand running up your side to your chest, cupping the underside of your breast as you tried to find a way to separate from him. If it wasn’t for the look on his face, Joel might have given him the benefit of the doubt. But his lecherous smile gave him away, and the thinly veiled look of disgust on your face told him you knew exactly what this man was trying. 

Something that hadn’t existed much since Joel lost everything took over. It was rage, blind and violent and coursing through him sharp and heady. That rage didn’t give him a chance to really think, but then, it never had. Not when he was a kid and his dad was on some bender, not when he was some hotheaded teenager looking to pick a fight with a bully at school, not when he was at a bar and saw someone who could have killed his daughter. It was no different now as he practically dove into the crowd, forcing the group apart and not caring if people got pushed into the street or shoved to the ground.

“Move!” Joel yelled, not that it seemed to do much beyond warn people that he was coming for them. He reached you in a matter of seconds, towering over the man who’d decided to take advantage of your vulnerable position to grope you. The man - more of a kid, likely some student at UT who didn’t know his ass from hole in the ground - gaped up at him, his eyes wide and his hand still on your breast. 

Joel took your arm and pulled you, roughly, away from his grip, tucking you behind him before refocusing on the kid in front of him. 

“You think that shit’s funny?” Joel asked, his hand curling into a fist. “Touchin’ a woman without permission?” 

“I was just…” he looked afraid and something inside Joel flared with pride at that. Look at what he could do, he thought, it looked like he was capable of something after all. 

“Know what you were just,” Joel cut him off, mockingly, before grabbing him by his shirt and slamming him back into a marble pillar. The kids head smacked against it with sickening crack. “Do that shit again and I’ll bust your jaw.” 

Joel released him and the kid slumped to the ground before he turned to find you, looking down at the kid with your mouth slightly open. 

“C’mon,” Joel said, throwing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into him, ducking your head down low to ruin the picture for anyone who might be trying to take one. “Let’s go.” 

He looked around, the crowd thinner now but all watching him. 

“Move!” He roared again. This time, they listened, parting like the Red Sea as he ushered you quickly away, back into the hotel. He looked to the door man, trying not to glare at him too hard. “Those assholes don’t come inside, we clear?” 

“Yes sir,” the man said quickly.

Joel looked to you next. 

“Where’s your car?” 

“Valet,” you said, your forehead in your hand. “I didn’t get a chance to even grab it yet, someone must have tipped off some fucking gossip blog that I was here…” 

“Got the ticket?” Joel asked. You sighed and fished it out of your pocket and handed it over before Joel took it to the front desk and told them to have your car brought out back. He also got directions to the loading dock before going back to find you, in the same spot on the plush lobby couch, fingers laced together, elbows braced on your knees. 

“C’mon,” Joel said, making you jump before looking up at him. “They’re bringing your car around back, we’ll get you out of here without those fuckers knowin’.” 

You looked back down at the ground before giving a stiff nod. 

“Thanks.” You got up and took a deep breath, raising your chin, an almost serene look on your face before looking to him. “Lead the way.” 

He did as you asked, watching like a hawk for anyone who might be stupid enough to try to talk to you. But no one seemed to pay you any mind, even as the two of you cut through the dining room - closed between lunch and dinner service - and into the kitchen, where dozens of cooks were working to get set for the evening. They just ducked around the pair of you, sometimes giving Joel a dirty look for getting in their way, and then you were at the loading dock. 

“Here,” Joel said, jumping down from the edge of it to the alley still damp from rain from the night before. He held his hands out to you. “I’ll help you down.” 

“Thanks, but I’d rather do it myself,” you said. You were more cautious about it than Joel but you jumped down and landed lightly beside him, brushing your hands free of the dirt from the dock before crossing your arms tightly over your chest. Your jaw was tight, the only sign on your calm, uncommonly beautiful face that something might be wrong. Joel crossed his arms, too. 

“You OK?” He asked after a moment. 

You looked at him for a second, your brows raised ever so slightly. 

“Fine,” you said after a moment before staring straight ahead again. 

“You sure?” He asked. He wasn’t sure why he was pressing. He shouldn’t care. He didn’t care.

“Yes,” you said and then you laughed once, sharply. “I mean, no, I’m not but what the fuck am I going to do about it? It’s part of the job, isn’t it?” 

Joel ground his teeth. 

“Shouldn’t be.” 

“Regardless,” you shrugged, glancing at him again. “Thank you for your help. You didn’t have to do that and… Well, I appreciate it.” 

“Sure,” he said as your car came around the corner. You dropped your arms before turning to face him. 

“Looks like it’s you and me starting tomorrow,” you said. “I’m sure your boss will give you all the details but I don’t think I caught your name.” 

“Joel,” he said after a moment. “Miller.”

You smiled, a small, almost hesitant one, the slightest upturn of your lips. 

“Joel Miller,” you repeated back to him. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m…” 

“Don’t need to tell me your name,” he said. “Pretty sure everyone on Earth knows your name.” 

You laughed again in that same, humorless way as your car stopped beside you. 

“Yeah,” you said. “I suppose they do. See you tomorrow, Joel.” 

“See you tomorrow, ma’am.” 

He watched you pull cash out of your pocket and smile more broadly at valet who was damn near gawking at you. You discreetly handed him the money as you shook his hand and Joel stayed there in the alley until he couldn’t see your car any more. 

“Holy shit,” the valet said and Joel looked down at him. He had to be about 18 years old, still wet behind the ears. Probably had fucking posters of you up in his room that he jerked off to before he went to bed. He held up the cash. “She gave me 100 bucks!” 

Joel looked down at him, making sure to draw himself to his full height. 

“You gonna tell anyone we got her out this way?” He asked. The kid swallowed hard and shook his head. “Good.” 

Joel tried not to grind his teeth as he went back inside to find his brother. He wished it wasn’t too late to back out of this. You, he thought, were going to be far more than he’d bargained for. He just hoped he was ready for it.

***

“I’m not wearing this.” 

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. 

“Seriously dude?” You asked, incredulous. “Can’t you wait like… two days before picking a fight?” 

“Have you seen this fucking thing?” Ellie’s eyebrows disappeared into her bangs as she held up the hem of the blue plaid skirt that, you had to admit, looked sickeningly unnatural on your 14-year-old niece. “You could put a whole circus up this thing! And how am I supposed to kick someone’s ass in a fucking skirt?” 

“First of all, language,” you said. She rolled her eyes. You ignored her. “Second of all, you shouldn’t be kicking anybody’s ass. Why are you starting your day thinking about ass kicking? You haven’t even met these kids yet, I highly doubt you’ll need to kick someone’s ass your first day.” 

“I’d like to be able to kick someone’s ass if I need to,” she said, incredulous. “Come on. You know this is insane.” 

You sighed as the doorbell rang and you checked your watch. 7 a.m. on the nose. Well, at least the man was prompt. 

“Fine,” you sighed. “Run upstairs, put on something else…” 

Ellie took off as Esmo, your household assistant, appeared next to you, Joel by her side. 

“Morning,” he said, voice gruff. You looked him over quickly, a side arm at his belt on a pair of jeans that fit him entirely too well. You doubted they were tailored, either, they just fit him like that, the bastard. Just your luck that you’d get stuck with a bodyguard who was unnaturally good looking but also an asshole. “Thought we could get started with…”

“Sorry, that won’t work, things are a bit off the rails this morning,” you said to him quickly, not giving him a chance to respond before turning to Esmo.

“Do you still have the name of the uniform store?” You asked her. “If you do, can you see if they’re open? I think we’re going to need to stop for pants…” 

“Yes ma’am,” she said, quickly pulling out her phone. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t think to get pants, the requirements were very clear…” 

“It’s not your fault,” you said quickly. Esmo had only been working for you for a few weeks and it felt like the two of you were still getting used to each other. She insisted on calling you ma’am. You insisted on doing too much for yourself. It was a delicate balance. “She’s just…” 

“OK,” Ellie came thundering down the stairs in the same sweater with a button down shirt and tie but jeans instead of the skirt. “Ready!” 

“Store opened at seven,” Esmo said, pocketing her phone. “I can take her and…” 

“I want to do it,” you cut her off, catching a glimpse of Joel’s shocked expression out of the corner of your eye as you looked back to your niece. “Alright trouble maker, ready to go?” 

“Fuck yeah.” 

“Girl,” you said. “Language, please!” 

She made a face but made her way to the front door, anyway, her thumbs looped through the straps of her book bag and you turned to Joel, still surprised at just how large he was, even after being against him the day before. 

“Assuming you’re along for the ride on this,” you said, jerking your head for the door. “But we gotta book it, with an extra stop we’re already not going to be early for her first day.” 

He still had a look of almost shock on his face but he followed behind you as you grabbed your keys and wristlet from the bowl by the door, Ellie bouncing impatiently from foot to foot. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were excited,” you teased as you made you way to the Porsche SUV you’d gotten specifically to haul Ellie around. “Almost like you want to go to school instead of hanging out with me all day.” 

“Spending time with old people does get… well, old,” she smirked, heading for the passenger seat but you stopped her. 

“Absolutely not, you’re in back,” you said, jerking a thumb toward Joel - who still hadn’t spoken. “This man has a good foot on you, we’re not making him sit back there.” 

“Ugh, fine,” she huffed but obeyed, throwing her book bag against the opposite door before clambering in as Joel went for the driver’s seat, holding out his hand for the keys. You gave him a look but he just raised his brow, his arm still extended expectantly. 

“Please,” you scoffed. “I’ll let you follow me around like some guard dog but I’m keeping some last vestige of my autonomy. I’m driving.” 

He narrowed his eyes. 

“No.” 

“And why not?” You asked. “Because you have control issues?”

“Do you know evasive driving tactics?” He asked. “How to watch for pursuers and safely out run them?” 

“No, but I did my own stunt driving for the Fast Track franchise,” you said wryly. “Think I’ll be fine. Now move, you’re making us late.” 

He ground his teeth. 

“We’re talkin’ about this,” he muttered before stalking off to the passenger side of the car. 

“Yeah I bet we are,” you said under your breath as you got in the car and programmed the GPS for the uniform store. 

“So,” Ellie said in a teasing tone as she leaned between the front seats as you started off. “Who are you?”

“Put on your seatbelt,” he said. 

She rolled her eyes but sat back and obeyed.

“This is Joel,” you answered for him. “He’s going to be around quite a bit.” 

“Is he like another assistant or some shit?” She asked. 

“Language,” you said and you caught a glimpse of her rolling her eyes in your rearview mirror. “And no, not an assistant.” 

“Ohhhh,” she smirked. “So he’s like a boyfriend then, got it…” 

Joel rolled his eyes. 

“I’m a bodyguard,” he said. “I’ll be protecting your…” 

“Bodyguard?” Ellie interrupted and leaned forward again, frowning. “Why do you need a bodyguard? You didn’t have one of those in LA, what the fuck?” 

“I have a bodyguard because you can’t go five minutes without saying fuck,” you said wryly. “My life is under constant threat because of…” 

“Please,” Ellie rolled her eyes. “You have a worse mouth than I do. But seriously, why do you need a bodyguard? Is something going on?” 

You saw Joel moving to talk but you spoke before he had a chance to. 

“This is just a different place than LA,” you said quickly. “People here aren’t used to people like me just showing up in grocery stores and stuff. It can get out of hand quick so the studio wanted me to have Joel around. It’s just a precaution.” 

She seemed skeptical but was satisfied enough by the bullshit explanation you’d just given her that she sat back, pulling a Savage Starlight comic book from her book bag and you smiled a little. A lot might have changed in the last few months but at least Ellie was still Ellie. 

You made it to the uniform store and told the woman inside - who was seemingly trying not to gape at you but was failing miserably - what you were looking for. She grabbed a few pairs of uniform pants in different sizes before leading Ellie to the fitting rooms and you hung back, waiting for her to change with Joel by your side. He stood facing you, eyes constantly sweeping the store as though this strip mall just outside Austin were a war zone. 

“No one told me you had a kid,” he said eventually. 

You smiled, sadly. 

“Yeah, well,” you said. “I have a kid. That’s a pretty new development, though.” 

That made him pause, his eyebrows drawing together as he looked to you. 

“I adopted her,” you said. “A few months ago. Her mom was a single parent and like a sister to me. When she got cancer, the first thing she asked me was to take Ellie if… I told her that she was nuts, that she’d be around forever and she wouldn’t need me to do anything for Ellie besides take her to Europe for a cool aunt vacation when she turned 18 but… well, now I have a kid.” 

“I…” His voice trailed off. “Shit. I’m sorry.”  

You shrugged. 

“It is what it is, I guess,” you said. “She’s why I’m here. Things in LA… I’ve always been in her life. I was the second person to ever hold her. But I’ve always kept the paparazzi far away from her, I’ve made sure she has privacy and that she was as sheltered from that part of my life as she could be. I want to settle into this with some version of normal, one that isn’t possible when I’m in LA. And you, Joel, are throwing quite a wrench into that.” 

“Oh this is so much better,” Ellie threw the door to the changing room open with a flourish, in a pair of blue pants that perfectly matched the blue of the sweater. “Not as good as jeans but better than that stupid freaking skirt.” 

“Alright,” you said. “We’ll take five of those and then we have to get you to school because there’s no point in loading you up on uniforms just to have you miss your first day, let’s go.” 

You weren’t as early as you wanted to be - you’d been hoping to have a chance to meet Ellie’s teachers before the day started but that plan was shot - but at least kids were still arriving. You grabbed a baseball cap from your glove box, Joel stiffening as you reached between his legs to open it and you resisted the urge to smirk at that. As though you’d be trying to come onto him at all let alone with your niece in the car. 

Hat on so you were somewhat disguised, you walked with Ellie and Joel to the front of the stone building, one that had clearly taken inspiration from the ivy league schools the kids who went here were all but destined to attend. A gray haired woman in a charcoal pantsuit rushed out to greet you, an almost stern look on her face. 

“Welcome to Austin Preparatory Academy,” she extended her hand. “I’m Amanda Stark, headmistress here.” 

“Good to meet you,” you said, taking her hand, feeling Joel standing oddly close to your back. “This is Ellie, she’s looking forward to starting here today and…” 

“We’re looking forward to having her,” she smiled a little at Ellie before redirecting her attention to you. “But I’m afraid there’s been some… ah… miscommunication about the uniform. Girls are required to wear skirts. I’m sure we have…” 

“No miscommunication,” you smiled a little, steeling your spine. From the moment you’d caved to Ellie, you knew this was coming. But you’d been prepared to fight far bigger battles over this kid, this wasn’t going to be any different. “Ellie just prefers to wear pants. It wasn’t a problem at her last school, I’m sure it won’t be a problem here.” 

Ellie stuck her chin out, smirking a little and defiant as ever and you resisted the urge to elbow her. She could at least act like she wasn’t going to get her way. 

“But it is,” the headmistress said. “The uniform code here has been this way for decades and…” 

“And I’m sure you’re not suggesting that just because something has been done one way that it should continue to be done that way at the expense of students’ comfort and learning experience,” you finished for her, smiling tightly.

“We have expectations for our students,” she said, her jaw clenched. “Just like they will have one day to be successful in life, and…” 

“And you’re wearing pants,” you nodded to her suit. “And so am I. Of course, if you’re suggesting that neither of us is successful then…” 

“No, no of course not, that’s not…” 

“Wonderful!” You said brightly. “I’m glad that’s settled. I’m sure Ellie won’t cause any disruption wearing the uniform pants and now I won’t need to spend my day contacting every major news network here in Austin and asking them to come here and chat with me about your archaic gender rules and expectations. Sound good?” 

You watched her grind her teeth for a moment. 

“Of course,” she said after a moment of silence hanging in the air. “But we are close to the start of the school day and…” 

“Yes, I don’t want to be a distraction,” you smiled before turning to Ellie, tucking a hair that had already broken free of her ponytail behind her ear. “Alright kid, behave yourself, OK?” 

“Yes Sissy,” she rolled her eyes. Your heart still tightened a little when she called you that. She sounded so much like her mother, Anna. You loved that Ellie called you the same thing her mother had but still, it stung.

“I’ll be back to pick you up,” you said, putting your hands on her shoulders. “Have a good first day, OK?” 

“Oh I will,” she said and you watched her head into the building with the headmistress at her side until you couldn’t see her anymore. 

“OK, she’s dropped,” Joel said, his voice tight. “Let’s move, this place isn’t secured.” 

“Well that sure seems like a gap in security, doesn’t it?” You said, brows raised. 

“One I would have fixed if anyone had bothered to tell me you had a damn kid,” he practically growled. 

“Probably a bad idea for your boss to not have insisted on bringing me into the conversation then, wasn’t it?” 

He looked at you, his face hard. 

“Keys.” He held out his hand.

You laughed once. 

“Keys?” You said. “Really? Just ‘keys,’” you grunted it like he did, “that’s it?”

“Your kid is inside,” he said, hand still out. “Don’t have her to use an excuse now so, keys.” 

You looked at him for a moment, the firm set of his jaw, the flecks of gray just starting in at his temples. He was a good looking man, tall and broad with a rugged look to him. He’d make a good cowboy in a western, you thought, or maybe a hardened detective. But protecting someone like you seemed out of place for him. Beneath him a little, almost like he was a sell out.

“No,” you said simply, ducking around him and heading for the car. 

He followed closely behind you, even his footfalls gruff and angry. You sped up a little but he stepped in front of you, anyway, his oddly large body blocking your door. He opened his mouth - probably to try to order you around again - but you cut him off before he had the chance. 

“I’m not letting you drive,” you said. “It doesn’t matter what you do or what you say. If you want to drive, you’re going to have to pick me up and move me so, if you want to get out of here quickly and without causing a scene, you’ll get in the passenger seat and we can go.” 

For half a moment, you thought he might actually throw you over his shoulder. Instead, he just grunted and stalked around to the other side of the car, ripping the door open roughly. You pressed your lips together, trying not to laugh. All this pretense over some stupid letters from some over zealous fan. 

You got in the car and dropped the keys in Joel’s lap. He frowned, picking them up. 

“You want to have the keys so bad? Fine.” You pushed the button and the car roared to life. “I’ve got them right where I want them.” 

“You gotta come to terms with how this shit is going to work,” he said sharply. “You can’t just do whatever the hell it is you feel like. I get that you’re some spoiled fuckin’ actress who only ever does exactly what she wants whenever she wants but I got news for you, I don’t give a shit how many movies you’ve been in or awards you’ve won. I care about keeping your ass alive and to do that, you gotta listen to me. I ain’t one of those fuckin’ ass kissers you spend all your time with so we can do this the hard way or the easy way but either way, it’s gonna be my fuckin’ way. Understood?” 

You watched him for a moment, your tongue between your teeth to keep from snapping at him. It was something you were used to, something you’d been doing since you were a girl, always shutting up while the people who were more powerful than you - people you’d made fucking rich - made every decision for you. 

That was one thing on set and in your career and even for posed fucking paparazzi shots but not in your real life. 

“I need coffee,” you said, putting the car in drive. “Coffee?” 

“I’m sure you got people who can do that for you,” he said, his jaw clenched. 

“Yes, but where’s the fun in that?” You smirked before nodding down to his wrist. “Oh, also? Your watch is broken.” 

You pressed the gas harder than you should have, the car jumping sharply forward, wondering just how far you could push your new shadow before he backed out.

Next Chapter

A/N: OK I'm already in love with writing how these two push each other's buttons. Annoying Joel Miller is my passion, I can't wait to drive this man absolutely insane over the arc of this fic.

Thank you so much for being patient as I wrapped up Yearling and went on vacation! I'm hoping to update this once a week going forward so you won't need to wait quite so long between chapters from here on out. I hope you enjoyed getting to know these two a little better!

Taglist: @christinamadsen @eff4freddie @brittmb115 @copperhalfcent @r3dheadedwitch @pedropascalsbbg @lovelyjess69 @yopossum @moel-jiller @picketniffler

[theplumsoldier]

been wanting to do this bodyguard!joel x president's bratty daughter!reader for so long but i can't work through the first chapter so here's the moodbaord i made instead

[angelkhi]

khi’s first poll!! (pls answer i have severe attachment issues)

okie so i’m planning on posting a couple of abby headcanons based on asks in the next couple of days but as for fics which would you like to see first :

[fl0werf0rest]

its so funny how joel and etho hang around gem like her guard dogs and threaten everyone who talks to her, this whole time they were the ones obsessed with Her

[psychedelic-ink]

𝑯𝑰𝑮𝑯 𝑬𝑵𝑶𝑼𝑮𝑯

pairing: dieter bravo x actress!reader x bodyguard!joel miller

genre: super duper explicit smut, actress & bodyguard au, minors dni

word count: 4.5k

summary: an afterparty, weed, drinks, a grumpy bodyguard, and an eccentric actor. What can go wrong?

warnings: mlm dynamics, threesome, blossoming feelings, messy two-person blowjob, piv, polyamorous, dieter has a praise kink, hair pulling, bdsm dynamics, high sex, getting high, this is an au where sarah was never conceived sorry, petnames all around (good boy/girl, sweetheart, darlin, honey), guidance kink, handjob, implied age gap reader being the youngest and joel being the oldest

a/n: you voted and here it is! This can be considered as a continuation of the drabble I wrote but you don't need to read that in order to read this. It just takes place in the same universe. enjoy! If you want to see more adventures of bodyguard!joel and actress!reader feel free to send requests xx

Joel is a grump. 

He knows this. Everyone does. He’s been called many things before in this industry: unkind, an asshole, a fucker, a bummer, a grumpy old man. But despite all the negative feedback, he’s never been out of a job. When it comes to feeling safe and secure, everyone realizes that pleasantries aren't really a priority. After a while, he learned to let those remarks bounce off of him. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy having fun; it’s the fact that this industry is riddled with slimy, untrustworthy characters. You could be happily sharing a drink one moment, and the next you could find your drunken words being sold off to the highest bidder. He has a lot of stories, some of which he wishes he could forget about.

However, he's not a kid. Far from it, actually. So he also knows that not everyone fits the bill of assholery. He's met some nice people, worked for them, and thanks to those nice people, he met you— one of the biggest rising stars of your generation. You're actually quite kind— albeit a bit of a brat, but he's starting to realize that side of you might be reserved only for him. Most impressively, you've managed to knit yourself a loving, supportive circle. He met your family once and has a sneaking suspicion they had something to do with your good manners.

Family. He misses his. Tommy still lived in Austin, running a not-so-shabby bar. 

Joel used to pride himself on not getting involved in his clients' affairs, but with you, that proved difficult.

A sea of people crashes into him, pushing him in the opposite direction of where he's trying to go. These Hollywood parties, they're always the same - loud music, annoying lights, and foaming glitter always coming from somewhere. He catches a whiff of champagne and strawberries. Rolling his eyes, he helps a director he barely knows who stumbles and nearly collapses on the shiny marble floors. With one swift motion, he grips her torso and lifts her back up. She slurs a drunken thank you and moseys off.

He hates it when you drag him to parties, and he hates it even more when you disappear. By some miracle, he spots you sitting down within the awfully lit room. You're wearing a mermaid-style dress (at least, that's what you told him prior to the event), which hugs your curves in all the right places. The fabric is covered in pearls, giving it a shimmering, iridescent quality that catches the light and reflects it into his eyes - thank fucking god, or else he suspects he'd never find you in this crowd.

His relief in finding you is short-lived when he sees who you’re sitting with. 

Fucking Dieter Bravo. 

You know he doesn’t like the man. Of course, you would sit with him just to spite Joel. That’s what he hopes this is anyway, he’s praying to every god he can think of (which isn’t many) that this isn’t a blooming friendship, or something else. He doesn’t think he can handle seeing that man more than he has to. 

Ironically, Joel actually used to work with Dieter. It only lasted for about a week as Dieter was just too unpredictable and chaotic for him. A complete hedonist who was used to getting what he wants. Before Joel could resign, Dieter had fired him. Which was good, because Joel wasn’t sure if he would’ve actually gone and done it. 

Joel feels a mixture of excitement and anxiety as your entire face lights up upon seeing him. With an open smile, you wave frantically and point to the couch across from the two of you. It's a tight fit, and his knees brush against both yours and Dieter's as he sits. The actor is holding a joint loosely between his fingers, looking up to Joel and nodding in a way that resembles an informal greeting. Joel notices the vibrant pattern of his button-up, the chain around his neck, and the rings on his fingers. Dieter takes a drag then offers it to you. Your gaze briefly meets Joel's before you take it from him. However, you don't immediately bring it to your lips.

“Where were you?” Joel asks loudly, trying to get his words over the sound of the music. “You can’t bring me to these things and then just disappear on me.” 

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” you answer with an apologetic smile. Joel narrows his eyes and you bring the neatly rolled joint to your glossy lips. You take a deep, long inhale. He watches the way your body seems to melt unconsciously. You close your eyes. “I just saw Dee and you know his habit of disappearing as soon as you blink. Had to pounce him before that happened.” 

Joel’s eyes drop to where Dieter slides an arm around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. He rests his chin on your shoulder, his eyes fixed on Joel. Your eyes flutter open and much to Joel’s surprise, you extend the joint to him. 

“Don’t bother, sweetheart,” Dieter says, his lips too close to your cheek. Joel bristles unknowingly. “He has a stick up his ass.” 

“Dieter!” you hiss, glaring daggers. “Behave.” 

“I don’t smoke on the job.” Joel says, a bit smugly and enjoying the other man’s prominent pout. “Unlike some, I’m a professional.” 

Dieter scoffs. The joint still lingers between your fingers, your gaze snapping to Joel. You accusatorily point at him, your brows drawn together. “And you—” you warn. “Don’t act so high and mighty. You’re off the clock remember? I invited you here so you would loosen up a little.” 

What? 

“What?” he blinks rapidly. “Why on earth would I need loosenin’ up? And why would I want to loosen up with you lot? This ain’t exactly my scene honey.” 

“Because we’re friends, smartass.” you chide. The burnt tip of the cigarette is now closer to your fingers. With a sigh, Joel finally takes it, which provokes a burst of laughter from Dieter. 

“She has you on a leash!” Dieter points out, fingers digging into your hip and moving over the pearls. “That’s fucking adorable.” 

Joel grunts, “Shut up.” he takes the joint clumsily, holding it up to his lips. It’s been a while since he’s done this. When he does he usually prefers the privacy of his own home. Joel ignores the way your eyes are fixed on him, two wide eager eyes eating him up from head to toe. 

He takes a deep inhale, his lungs expanding with smoke. Joel can taste the champagne you left behind. Goosebumps rise over his skin, a tingle, and a buzz making him groan. He allows the smoke to linger inside him, then, without parting from the joint much, he exhales. It’s very subtle, but he notices both you and Dieter taking deep breaths, filling yourselves with his breath. He’s amused. His lips twitch as he takes another drag. Then he extends it back to Dieter. The actor doesn’t waste much time and wraps his lips around the butt of the joint deliberately slow. Joel fights the urge to roll his eyes. Dieter takes a deep breath, exhaling cannabis in a way that the smoke doesn’t move forward, it pours from between his lips, like a dragon’s mouth. 

Joel doesn’t think much of it, now feeling more relaxed than ever, he says, “You look surprisingly cleaned up. They groomed you well.” 

“Does it look like I care what you think?” Dieter snaps back, and Joel frowns. 

“I think the word you’re looking for is thank you,” you say, words directed at Dieter. Your eyes flit between the two tense men. “Also I'm starting to think you two have some history together.” 

“Didn’t your knight in shining armor tell you?” Dieter grins, rather smug. “He used to work for me.” 

You turn to Joel, brows pinched together with confusion. “You did?” 

Joel rolls his eyes, ignoring the way his cheeks heat up under your gaze. “It was a long time ago.” 

“I fired him.” 

“How come?” 

“Too distracting.” 

Joel breathes a little too fast, the air catching in his throat. He clears his throat, his veins alive with tension. It almost feels like it’s the only three of them now. The rest of the room fading and turning black. Joel leans forward, the already tight space becoming even tighter. 

“Excuse me?” Joel asks, his speech slurred. “What do you mean “too distractin’”?” 

Neither of them answers you. Actors, he thinking begrudgingly, a puff of air parting his lips. Dieter brings the joint to your lips and without taking it from him, you look at Joel. He watches as your lips brush against the length of Dieter’s fingers. Annoyance brews in his stomach. 

“Is he like this with you too? Oblivious?” Dieter asks you. You grin, teeth shining under the dim lights and you nod. The actor’s tongue pokes out from between his lips and swipes over his bottom lip. “Poor baby.” 

“You two are startin’ to get on my nerves,” Joel grumbles, crossing his arms across his broad chest. 

You stick your tongue out and Joel has half the urge to grab it between his fingers and teach you a lesson. He hadn’t noticed, but the joint had made its way back to him. Slightly confused and disoriented, he finishes it off. The last bit of it burning his throat and lungs. He’s incredibly flustered, heat crawling up from his chest to his cheeks. He doesn’t miss the way you and Dieter steal glances at each other, smiling giddily. 

Finally, you find Joel’s gaze, a Cheshire-cat like grin plastered on your face—he’s slightly creeped out by it actually. 

“How about we show you what we mean?” 

Joel should’ve said no. This is the last time he’s ever coming to one of these damn parties. 

Joel wasn’t thinking much when Dieter led all of you to one of the many bedrooms in the residence. Your hand was clutched tightly around his, and per instinct, he had held on to you just as tight. And as soon as the three of them entered the stupidly large bedroom with an equally stupidly large bed, he found himself sitting on the edge with his pants down. The two actors knelt between his legs, eyes hungry and mouths flooded. 

He has to admit, it’s a rather enticing view. 

Dieter wraps his fingers around the base while you kiss the inside of Joel’s thigh. Heat settles at the base of his spine, his cock twitching and growing thanks to Dieter’s slow strokes. You drag your lips up, kissing his shaft before swirling your tongue around the head. A strangled moan leaves him. Joel’s gaze drops, only to see Dieter staring back at him. He holds his breath as the other grins from one ear to the other. 

“You like that?” he coos, darting his tongue out. He licks a clean stripe up, the curve of his nose brushing against yours. “God, the number of times I came in my pants thinking about this. . .” 

Joel’s quick to follow up, “You thought about this?” 

Your sudden bubble of laughter makes him frown. His lips become a tight line, his teeth clenched as he grinds the molars together. He watches as you ignore him and pull away. You cradle Dieter’s cheek, and as if he read your mind, the actor leans in, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. Joel tenses. His skin taut over muscle. His cock stands with attention, beads of precum rolling down his length. The thought of his taste lingering on your tongue, being passed to Dieter—his chest heaves, maybe he is too old for this. 

He sees Dieter shoving his tongue between your lips and you moan into his mouth, Dieter swallows the noises you make eagerly. Joel is surprised he’s not feeling any jealousy or protectiveness. Usually, when the actor attempts to make passes at you he puffs up like a rooster. But not his time. Dieter cups your face with two hands, tilting your head so he can kiss you deeper. Only then it dawns on Joel that the reason he was bothered before wasn’t that he hated the actor—though he still found him annoying—but because he wanted to be included. He almost laughs. Loneliness truly is a bitch. His fingers twitch and he makes a move to cup himself, he pouts when his hand is batted away by no one other than you. 

“No,” you say wetly with swollen lips. “We’re going to take care of you. Isn’t that right, Dee?” the second half of the sentence is directed at the actor who looks just as debauched. But he manages to nod anyway. Then your gaze moves back up to Joel. “Okay?” 

He’s lost for words for a brief moment, mouth opening and closing before he can find his speech again. “Okay.” 

It’s messy. Debauched. Downright sinful. And Joel is ninety percent sure this is all a dream and his alarm is about to burst through the speaker of his phone. Dieter purses his lips and spits into his palm, coating Joel’s shaft with a generous amount. You kiss the head and swallow him halfway, your nostrils flaring as you try to take more of him. Joel’s hand lifts to comfort you but Dieter beats him to it. The actor leans into your ear, smiling slyly. He pulls down the straps of your dress and exposes your breasts. Joel’s mouth feels dry all of a sudden. 

“That’s it, sweetheart. You’re doing so well,” Dieter purrs, Joel can barely hear him. “Just breathe through your nose, don’t rush it. He’s a big boy, isn’t he? Flatten your tongue and swallow. That’s it. . .” Joel’s arms buckle as you do what you’re told, his eyes rolling back. Dieter kisses your cheek and kneads your breasts, thumbs wiping over the pebbled nipples. “You’re making him so happy right now. Such a talented girl.” 

“Oh, fuck,” Joel groans, slightly thrusting into your mouth. Dieter meets his gaze and winks, a wide grin spread across his handsome face. 

Handsome. Joel finds Dieter handsome, always has. Though he always assumed he found him handsome in a more general way, the same way he found Oscar Isaac handsome. Some people just are. But he’s starting to think he might like the infuriating actor a bit more than he thought. Or maybe it’s just from the heat of the moment and the weed still buzzing in his veins. Regardless, he’s enjoying the view very much. God, what has he gotten himself into? 

You swirl your tongue and hollow your cheeks. More praise drips from Dieter’s lips. Without thinking much of it, Joel reaches out and touches the side of Dieter’s face. The actor stills for a moment, brows furrowing, a delicious shade of red coloring his cheeks. Joel drags the pad of his thumb down Dieter’s cheek and then cups him tenderly. 

“Good boy,” Joel says before his filter kicks in. “You’re doin’ so well too.” 

Dieter’s face is priceless. He’s stunned into silence, eyes wide and round, lips parted. A low chuckle trembles within Joel’s chest, he continues to trace his thumb up and down the contours of his cheek. Dieter leans into the touch ever so slightly, eyelids fluttering. You must notice the change in the air because you pull away and drag a pointed tongue down Joel’s length. Then you grip Dieter’s chin and guide him down. 

“Have a taste, Dee.”

Joel watches with bated breath as you guide Dieter down towards his aching member. The actor's lips part and his breath hitches as he takes in the sight before him. He looks up at Joel, his eyes dark, before finally taking him in his mouth, tongue swirling and lips tight. The actor's eyes never leave Joel's as he bobs his head, taking more and more of him into his mouth. Joel’s legs shake, his lungs expand, it feels too much, everything tumbling onto him like an avalanche. 

Joel's head falls back, his eyes closing as he feels the warmth of Dieter's mouth. He can hear the wet sounds of his mouth moving over him, the way his lips slide up and down his length, and he can't help but let out a low moan.

You reach out and grab Joel's hand, entwining your fingers. Your touch electric. Leaning over you capture Joel's lips with your own. He moans into your mouth, the pleasure almost too much to bear.

Dieter pulls back, a thin line of saliva connecting his lips to Joel's length. He looks up at Joel with a wicked grin, before taking him back into his mouth. Parting away from you, Joel groans, hips bucking up involuntarily. But when he sees Dieter grinding into his palm, his cock hard and aching under his pants, Joel tugs on his hair, fucking his mouth with shallow strokes. 

Joel’s eyes go wide when the other man chokes, the sound of it equivalent to someone raking their nails over his body. His stomach flips. Something raw and visceral awakening inside him. He thrusts deeper, the head going down the other’s throat. Dieter chokes again and Joel moans, loudly. His heart beating too fast. 

With the corner of his eyes, Joel watches your movements with a parted mouth. You dip lower and drag your lips up his shaft, your mouth meeting Dieter’s. You both mouth at him simultaneously, your tongues dancing. Joel fists the sheets. His eyes fixed where his cock disappears and reappears between their lips. The two moan at the same time, the reverberations seeping into the sensitive skin of his cock and making him shudder. His muscles grow taut. Precum heavily coating both of their lips. Dieter dips his tongue into the slit groaning at the taste, and you unbutton the actor’s pants, sliding your hand under his boxer briefs. 

“Oh god,” Joel swallows thickly, his voice hoarse. “I’m gonna come—” he can feel his body tensing, his breaths coming in short gasps as he gets closer and closer.

You pull away and Dieter follows. Instinctively, Joel pulls at Dieter’s hair, willing the other back to his cock. His cock twitches when Dieter’s eyes roll back at the blossoming pain. You climb up the bed, cradling Joel’s face before slipping his tongue into his mouth. It’s a quick one but leaves him breathless nonetheless. 

“I want you to fuck me,” you mutter, lips moving over his beard. “Will you, please?” 

Joel helps you up to your feet, his hands still shaking slightly as he pushes down your dress, finishing what Dieter had started. He dips down, sucking a nipple into his mouth. His cock drips at the way you moan for him. Dieter stands behind him, his fingers trailing down the center of Joel's back as he helps him out of his shirt. 

You reach for Dieter's pants, feeling the heat rising in your chest as you gaze into his eyes. He watches you intently, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. You slide the zipper down slowly, your fingers brushing against the growing bulge in his boxer briefs. 

Joel steps back, allowing you to guide Dieter towards the bed. He climbs up first, propping himself up against the headboard, his eyes fixed on the scene unfolding in front of him. You kneel on the bed beside Dieter, your fingers reaching for the waistband of his underwear. You tug them down slowly, revealing his cock, already hard and throbbing. 

Joel's breath catches in his throat as he watches you take Dieter's cock into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the head before sliding down the shaft. Then you pull away from him with a pop and lay down next to him, your head resting on his hip. Dieter’s hands smooth down your body, spreading your thighs. He holds Joel’s gaze as the older man’s mouth suddenly feels dry at the sight of you. 

Joel moves between your legs, his fingers tracing over your slick folds, making you moan softly. He positions himself at your entrance, his eyes locked onto yours as he slowly pushes inside you. He can feel you getting wetter with every inch. You claw at Dieter’s bicep and he shushes you, one hand moving to the swell of your breasts and holding it gingerly. The small hairs across Joel’s body stand up when you let out a sharp whimper. 

“Dieter,” you whine, eyes glossy. “H-He feels so good.” 

God, you’re shaking around him, your pretty pussy squeezing him. Joel grunts. 

“I bet he does,” Dieter murmurs, eyes looking at where you and Joel connect. He’s only halfway in. “Want me to play with your pretty clit, baby? You’re taking him so well.” 

You nod quickly and Dieter doesn’t make you repeat yourself. Joel swallows. Dieter begins to draw quick, tight circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves. You gasp, your lips barely touching Dieter’s shaft. Joel feels you clenching around him, walls fluttering thanks to the actor. Dieter makes a point of brushing the tips of his fingers while attending to your need, and every time Joel feels it, his cock throbs. He buries himself deep inside you, forcing the air from your lungs. Your back arches beautifully, your nails leaving crescent moon-shaped marks into Dieter’s skin. 

Joel's breathing is ragged, his eyes locked onto yours as he pumps into you harder and harder. Your eyes flutter closed. His fingers dig into your hips, anchoring you to the bed as he pounds into you. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room. 

“Hold me,” you cry out, head turning to Dieter. Joel’s thrusts become harder, faster. “Shit—He’s in so deep.” 

Dieter obliges, wrapping his arms around your trembling frame as your body sways back and forth with the strength of Joel’s thrusts. 

“You’re taking him so well, sweetheart,” Dieter groans, his own cock heavy and dark between his legs. “You look so beautiful with him buried between his legs.” suddenly his eyes snap to Joel’s, and the older man falters a bit, his pacing becoming uneven. “Doesn’t she?” he asks him. 

“She does,” Joel grunts out a response. 

You let out a whimper, Joel can feel you convulsing. Your body growing taut and tense, you’re close. Joel’s not that far from it himself, dangling over the edge.  

“She’s such a good girl,” Dieter continues, eyes never leaving Joel’s. “Isn’t she?” 

“Jesus, she is. So fuckin’ good to me. Always.” 

And with that, Joel witnesses your fall from heaven.

He watches with awe as you writhe and convulse around him, your head thrown back in ecstasy. Your body trembles with every pulse of pleasure that courses through you, and your breaths come in short gasps. You arch your back, a low moan escapes your lips, and your body tenses up around Joel's length. Your fingers dig into Dieter’s forearms s as you ride out the waves of ecstasy that ripple through your body. Joel can feel your inner walls squeezing him tightly, and he groans.

Joel can feel your wetness coating his cock, and the slickness only intensifies the pleasure he feels. He continues to thrust into you, his pace quickening as he chases his own release. Somewhere in the distance, he can hear Dieter praising you both, though mostly you, and he shudders. 

Your orgasm starting to subside, he feels your body relaxing against him. He slows his pace, savoring the feeling of your hot, slick walls wrapped tightly around him. He wants to make this last as long as possible, to make you feel every inch of him. However, Joel knows nothing lasts forever. 

He’s right at the edge when he pulls out, spilling over your stomach. His hot breath slides over your skin, his head buried between your breasts. Unthinking, he presses heavy, wet kisses. The tremors of his orgasm slowly fades and Joel realizes that among the three of them, there’s still one person left unsatisfied. 

Joel looks up to Dieter. Despite his cock still being hard, the head an angry shade of red, he looks content with just peppering the top of your head with kisses. But he must’ve sensed the bodyguard staring because Dieter’s eyes meet his. 

“You didn’t come,” Joel states. 

Dieter rolls his eyes, “No shit,” he follows it up with a shrug. “But it’s okay. Seeing you two going at it was satisfying enough.” 

Joel moves his jaw, thinking, contemplating on what to do. Your lids are heavy as your eyes move back and forth. Watching. The older man comes to a decision and peels himself away from you. 

“Can I?” he asks, pointing at Dieter’s dick. The actor flushes. 

“Can you what?” he answers, voice squeaky. 

“Um. . .Jerk you off. It’s only fair.” 

Joel reaches out a hand and tentatively wraps it around Dieter's shaft, giving it a gentle squeeze. Dieter lets out a small moan. His fingers start moving up and down, slowly at first, getting a feel for Dieter's size and shape. Joel has done this with another once or twice before and he can sense his confidence that was already hanging by a thread slowly dissolving. He looks up at Dieter who is already staring at him with half hooded eyes.   

“Is this good?” Joel asks, licking his lips. 

“Fuck yes. I’ll take whatever you give me.” 

Joel’s eyes widen at the admission. He tightens his grip and strokes him faster. Your hand comes up to Dieter’s chest, caressing flushed skin with a smile. You lean closer and kiss his neck, which Dieter hums gratefully. Joel feels the heat emanating from Dieter's body, and the slight tremble in his legs as Joel picks up the pace. 

"Good boy," Joel murmurs, watching as Dieter's eyes close and his mouth falls open. "So well behaved than from what I give him credit for."

Dieter lets out a soft whimper, his hips bucking up into Joel's hand. Joel adjusts his grip, tightening his fingers around Dieter's cock as he works him harder. Dieter drips all over his fingers and he uses it to lubricate his movements.

"You're so hard," Joel whispers, his mouth suddenly feeling incredibly dry. His gaze falls on you with slight envy, a tingle spreading throughout his lips. A desire to lay his lips on the other man and feel his frantic pulse for himself is a strong one, but he swallows it down. "You want to come, don't you?"

Dieter nods frantically, his breathing ragged. Joel can feel his own cock twitching. 

"That's it, let go," Joel encourages, stroking him faster and swiping his palm over the head. "Come for us."

With a loud groan, Dieter's body tenses, and Joel can feel the hot spurt of cum as it lands on his hand and on Dieter's stomach. Joel keeps jerking him through his orgasm, murmuring words of encouragement as Dieter's body shakes with pleasure.

Finally, as Dieter's breathing evens out, Joel releases him, wiping his hand on the bedsheet. Dieter looks up at him with a dazed expression, a small smile on his lips.

"Thanks," he says, his voice hoarse.

Joel exhales a stuttered breath, not really knowing what else to say. "Anytime."

“Awwww,” you chime in giddily which gets on Joel’s nerves. “Look at my two boys getting along.” 

[xoxostilinski]

Nerdy boys fuck best 🥱🫣

[modern-day-bard]

Other Duties As Assigned: A Joel Miller AU Fanfiction

Content Warning: 18+ This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut. Minors, do not interact.

word count: 4.8k

ao3 | wattpad

Chapter 19: Intrusion

Gwen

If staring worked like water, eroding ceilings over time until they discolor and eventually collapse, I’d be covered in drywall and looking into the eleventh floor by now.

For three nights, all I do is stare. I fall in and out of sleep when even the brightest burn of anger dies down to an amber, but worry is quick to bring me back, stoking the flames. I usually wake with a soft gasp, or a twitch of my arm, as if I’m subconsciously shocked to feel as afflicted as I do.

I had said too much. I could have just told Joel that this was unacceptable, and he needed to inform me of every new development. That was true. But I didn’t expect to take it as…a betrayal. The thought makes me pinch my eyes closed. It means I trust Joel enough to have expectations for him, and that means I let my own feelings take hold for far too long. He was here on a job. I was teetering on the edge of admitting things about him, and about the corporation, that I had never dared utter out loud. I let my anger guide my words, and it’s a small blessing that’s all that came out.

The annoying thing is, after three nights of ruminating, I now found what Joel did endearing. Overstepping? Absolutely. But endearing nonetheless. And what’s more is, he admitted it. He apologized, even. It hadn’t been even a week since the package arrived before he told me, and knowing how stressed he’s seemed at every event with my friends, the fact that he wanted me to go…and the fact that he noticed it was something I needed... It felt like he cared about me beyond just blocking someone from my path.

Now, while I pretend to sleep, I try not to think about how much he could care, and if it was the same way I did. Joel probably had that level of compassion towards every client. I felt like a schoolgirl with a crush, thinking I was somehow different or special. And even though it was my decision, I’m starting to regret not speaking to him these past few days. Maybe I should apologize in the morning. I could get him a coffee or something as a peace offering—

CRASH!

Glass shatters in the living room.

I’m not sure what it sounds like, to hear glass shattering in the living room from where I’m laying, until this very moment. I can’t think of what else that noise could be. I rack my brain of possible alternatives, coming up short in less than a few seconds. Rolling over, I yank my phone free from the charger, texting Joel immediately.

Me: Brandy

Not even a second later, he’s typing back.

Joel: Lock your door. Don’t come out until I say.

My heart pounds in my ears, and I move as quickly and quietly as I can to the doorway. I try to turn the lock slowly, so the clicking doesn’t ring out. Regardless, I still cringe as the lock slips into place.

A second crash sounds from the living room, and I cover my mouth to hide a small cry.

I hear Joel’s door open, though it’s quiet in comparison. I wish I could postpone the ringing in my ears so I could hear what’s happening in the living room, but I know there’s no more glass breaking right now. I don’t hear any voices either, just the soft padding of Joel’s stride down the hall. I find myself holding my breath, knowing that by now he must be able to see whoever is inside.

What if it’s a whole team of people against him?

I text Amari.

Me: 911 send help

Still, I hear nothing. What if they bound his mouth? Or they knocked him unconscious and didn’t let him hit the floor?

I’m startled when I hear erratic, quickened breathing, but I quickly realize it’s me. I cover my mouth, hoping it will stifle the hyperventilation.

Amari: on our way

My hands are shaking so badly I’m afraid I might drop my phone. Should I stay here by the doorway? Do I hide in the closet? I feel like any movement I make will be heard, and could encourage them to come seeking.

The silence is too loud, too noxious. Tears prick in my eyes. An image of Joel being beaten and bloody clouds my mind. I grab for the doorknob, hesitating.

Trust your instincts.

He had said it during our training session. I know he told me not to leave, but I couldn’t let him get hurt. And my instincts were screaming at me to move. With my still-shaking hands, I grab a marble bookend off of my dresser, gripping it until my knuckles turn white. I place my phone on the ground near the doorway, turning it on to record. If anything happens…at least there will be that evidence. Two more sharp inhales, and I unlock the door, hurling myself into the hallway, sprinting down to the living room.

The bookend is held high, ready to bring it down upon someone’s head, and I frantically search left and right for Joel. I notice two small lumps on the ground, but no people. No Joel.

Thud-ump, thud-ump, thud-ump.

All I hear is my heartbeat roaring as I continue to scan the living room. But there’s nothing. I take a step forward, noticing how one of the curtains flutters—

“Don’t move!” Someone bellows, making me scream. I turn, hosting the bookend higher, preparing to give them hell.

But it’s Joel. Just Joel. Standing by the kitchen island, a broom in his hand.

“There’s glass. Don’t take another step.” He commands, rushing to the nearby hall closet to pull out my gym shoes. He makes quick work of bringing them over to me, offering his shoulder for me to lean against as he bends down to help me slip them on.

“Where are they?” I whisper.

Joel gingerly tries to take the bookend away from me, but I resist. “No one broke in,” he says.

“Then why didn’t you call me? Why are the lights off?”

“Because I think whoever did this is still outside. You need to back up, for your own safety.”

In that deep, commanding voice, I listen to him. I back up until I’m standing at the edge of the hallway. Through the dark, I try to assess what he’s talking about. Joel follows my gaze, pointing to the two separate lumps on the ground.

“They’re bricks. Someone threw them through the window.”

That explains why the curtain is moving on its own. And with my senses beginning to regulate, it also explains the cold breeze I start to register on my skin.

“Can we turn on the light?” I hate how small my voice sounds, but not enough to keep me from asking.

“No,” Joel moves in front of the window, peering at the roof of the building next door. “If they’re trying to target you, turning on the lights just puts this game on easy mode. Another reason you should’ve listened to me when I told you to stay put!”

“Oh,” I breathe, shifting in my sneakers. He sounds angry.

No, not angry—livid.

Joel doesn’t say another word as he sweeps the glass closest to me, shifting it back to the window.

I wipe my sweaty hands on my pajama shorts. “Why didn’t the alarm go off?”

“I don’t know,” he grumbles, putting the broom down.

“I–I texted Amari.”

For some reason, this makes him shift his attention to me. “That’s good.”

“They should—should be here, soon.” I put the bookend down on the floor next to me.

He stares at me for another moment, before he speaks in a slightly softer tone, despite his rage-filled eyes. “You should go pack a bag. We’ll leave as soon as they get here.”

I turn back to my room without so much as a nod.

I start in the bathroom, gathering my makeup and toiletries, before grabbing a weekender out of my closet. I’m not sure if this is just for the night, so I pack two extra dresses for work just in case. After everything is zipped up, it occurs to me that I should change into something other than a silky sleep set. My hands haven’t stopped shaking as I slip into a pair of jeans and a pullover sweater.

I overhear Joel approving Amari and the team to come up in the elevator. I don’t want to go out and face them. I don’t want to hear the possible explanations, or the chatter of security measures I don’t quite understand.

Bricks? On the tenth floor? That feels impossible. This whole night feels impossible. I shove my hands in my pockets as I leave my room, not wanting anyone else to know the effect of this chaos.

Thankfully, with the entire crew here, Joel feels it’s safe enough to turn the lights back on. That alone provides a bit of comfort to my tightening chest. Amari stalks over to me as soon as he sees me.

“Miss Russell. You’re unharmed?”

“Yes. I’m…fine.”

“Good,” he places a reassuring hand on my shoulder, glancing around at the seven men inspecting my apartment.

They’re inspecting everything. Every crevasse, even those that have nothing to do with the windows. One of the men is leaning towards the bricks, and I follow his gaze. Looking down, I notice long pieces of rope tied around both bricks, with a white paper wrapped around the one closest to me.

“You’re shitting me.” I hiss, creeping toward the brick. This captures nearly all of their attention, as many pairs of surprised eyes turn my way. Three of them try to stop me, but Joel is the one who gets to me first, wrapping a gentle hand around the crook of my elbow.

“There are shards everywhere. What do you need?”

“There’s a fucking note. There’s a damn note attached to the fucking brick!” I point at the ground, my voice wobbling. Joel’s eyes widen slightly.

“Okay,” he says in a voice that may be reserved for negotiation tactics. “Let me get it.”

My eyes drop down to the floor and I nod.

Amari steps forward, his hand outstretched. “There could be fingerprints. We shouldn’t touch it yet.”

Joel looks from my face to Amari’s. “Someone get me a glove.”

“Joel, just in case—”

“Amari,” that same commanding tone is back. “She deserves to know.” Joel gives me the smallest of nods, and I hope my expression conveys my gratitude. After last week, I know he’s trying to make amends. But honestly, that hiccup is the last thing on my mind right now. Jace, one of the security members, hands Joel a glove and he immediately grabs the note.

Joel glances at me, a silent permission to read the note out loud. Whatever he sees on my face, it allows him to continue.

“My warnings are as earnest as my gifts. You should be in charge of the company. Go after what you really want. Like me.” Joel reads it as monotone as possible, and still, a shiver runs down my back. He’s watching me carefully, and I just want out. I need to get out of here.

“What’s the point?” I say softly. “Why would anyone care about that? They want me to, what, force my father to retire? Just so they know specifically what floor I’m on? They already know where I live.” My voice cracks again on the last word, and I just clear my throat, adjusting the bag on my shoulder. No one in the room responds to my questions. Not that they would have any of the answers.

“We should go. You need to sleep, and there’s no reason the security system should have been silent with two broken windows.” Joel moves to my side, taking the bag off of my shoulder. I don’t protest. My eyelids are heavy despite my quickened heart and sweaty palms. What time is it?

I glance into my kitchen, and the oven reads exactly twelve o'clock. I would have thought it was later, after laying awake for so long. But I suppose time passes differently when those types of thoughts are keeping you up. As much as I didn’t want to think about what my feelings for Joel are, I would give anything to go back to an hour ago when that was my biggest concern. Trying to figure out what he means to me is far less frightening than worrying about his safety.

I look at the solemn faces scattered around my living room. Some pretending to work, some obviously waiting for me to leave so they can start. I nod at Joel before turning to Amari.

“No one should hear of this. No one on the board, no one outside this room.” Not only would attention from the press exacerbate the issue, I also didn’t need anyone on the board looking at me like I was weak.

Amari looks apologetic. “I sent word to your father. No one beyond him will hear of it. You have my word.”

I don’t have the energy to feel disappointment. “Okay.”

Joel guides me toward the elevator, and Jace and Carlos follow us inside.

“It would be wise to tighten security measures, just for tonight.” Joel says low enough that they don’t hear it. “They’re going to help me escort you.”

“Okay,” I repeat, my tone drained for any emotion.

I’m not surprised that we pull up to my father’s house. Even if we doubled our security, it wouldn’t make sense to go somewhere unfamiliar tonight. The small blessing is that my father is in China for the next week. I thought I was lucky just getting out of the weekly dinner, but this is an additional bonus in the middle of an awful night.

Carlos asks if I want him to wake Melissa to make me something. I shake my head, ensuring Joel was in tow before making my way up the stairs. Jace and Carlos stay in the foyer, double checking that the house is armed as we leave them behind. I check again to make sure Joel is behind me as I round the corner of the hallway. He’s watching me, as always, but he doesn’t say anything. At my door, I hesitate.

“Do you want your privacy? I can leave before you…” he trails off, obviously confused. Why would I need privacy just to open my bedroom door?

“No,” my voice comes out as a whisper. I step inside, but I find myself turning around again. I feel…fear. Fear that he won’t be there. That if I don’t keep my eyes on him, he’ll disappear.

“I’ll be right outside,” Joel leans forward, dropping my bag inside the room.

I wring my hands, staring at our feet. I can’t close the door. I can’t be alone, and even more so, I can’t have him be alone. The image that clouded my head tonight, thinking someone had hurt him—

“Why didn’t you listen?” He asks softly. “You could have been hurt. Miss Russell, if someone were there, you could have been—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head. “Now isn’t the time. You need sleep.”

“So do you,” I say. His pained, weary eyes meet mine. “Please don’t stay outside.” Panic runs cold through my arms, in disbelief of what I’m saying.

“You’d prefer for me to stay in one of the guest rooms?”

“No,” I shake my head rapidly, “Can you stay with me? Please.”

Joel swallows audibly, taking a second to glance behind me at the room. Then he gives me a curt, professional nod. “Of course.”

He picks up the bag again, walking past me to set it on one of the chairs instead.

“I think…I think I’m going to shower.” I unzip the bag and reach for my toiletries.

“Shower?” He glances down at his watch. “It’s almost three in the morning.”

What? It took less than a half hour for us to get over here. My oven must be wrong…

“I’m just…cold. My hands,” I hold them out, no longer embarrassed for Joel to see them shake. His eyebrows thread together watching them quiver.

“Okay. I’ll be here.” He takes a seat in one of the chairs. I practically sprint for the bathroom, wanting the steam to expel the dread from my pores as soon as possible. I lock the door behind me for added protection.

Once I'm under the water, it does help to ease some of my tension. But even when I decide to wash my hair, it’s still not distracting enough. Where at my own apartment, I felt so exhausted that I just wanted to be taken out of there, I now feel wired. Like it’s a necessity for me to stay awake, and to will my mind to focus on other things. If I try to sleep, what will happen? If I close my eyes or think too long, I just see Joel again, bloody and injured on my living room rug.

I take an extra few minutes to lather up my body, trying to wash away this new buzz running through me. After the shower, I take an equal amount of time using lotion for the same reason. But the buzz becomes an itch, and I can’t think of a way to scratch it. Part of what I’m feeling is relief. There was a split second tonight where I thought Joel had been seriously hurt, and in my mind, he was unconscious. Unable to move. I knew he was angry with me for defying his order, but I would be far too angry with myself if I hadn’t done it. And the relief I feel now overtakes any remaining feeling of panic, though it demands further distraction to keep the panic at bay. I want to run towards that relief, but I’ve completed every distraction I can in this room. And that’s when I become incredibly aware of the fact that Joel is right outside the door, safe.

Safe and… alone…in my bedroom.

As I wrap myself up in a robe, I still feel that there is an itch needing to be scratched. A need for relief that I can hold, something tangible that confirms he’s truly alright. And I can think of only one way to honor this relief. Only one way to provide a distraction.

Exiting out of the bathroom, Joel stands, averting his gaze when he sees I’m only wearing a robe. With his eyes on the door, I start to cross over to him.

“Miss Russell, I need to apologize. I shouldn’t have taken that tone with you. I know that this has been a long night—-”

Standing chest to chest with him, his face is bewildered as I grab the back of his neck with both hands, pulling him down to my lips.

I kiss him harshly. Desperately. Pulling him as close to me as I can manage, though I can’t seem to get him close enough. His hands fly to my hips, holding me against him. I sigh, realizing how terribly I’ve wanted him to touch me for god knows how long. I wish the robe wasn’t so thick so I could feel his calloused hands against my skin. And he smells so good.

But his lips…he’s barely kissing me back. Not even a moment later, as if someone jolted him, he grabs my hands, pulling them away from his neck. He holds them in front of his chest, creating a barricade between us.

“You’re not thinking clearly,” he murmurs, his voice husky and low.

“Yes,” I practically whine, “I am.” I try to pull out of his grasp, but he shakes his head.

“You’re still shaking. You may be in shock.” Joel’s chest is heaving, assessing my face like he’s looking for injury.

At that, rejection hits me in the gut, and I feel my cheeks turn a deep shade of red. I try to pull away again, now feeling the panic resurface.

What have I done? He doesn’t want that. He works for my father, for fuck’s sake. Now I might lose him anyway.

“Hey,” Joel whispers, tugging my hands closer to his chest now. “You’re okay.”

“I-I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me…” I shake my head over and over as Joel shushes me. “That was so inappropriate. I’m sorry, I’m just glad you’re—alright.” I hiccup, and tears are dangerously close to spilling over now.

“You’re okay,” Joel repeats, now pulling me flush against his chest. He continues to shush me softly, one of his hands wrapping around my waist and one smoothing my hair. I don’t hug him back, exactly. One of my arms rests awkwardly against his, and the other hangs at my side. I don’t have the energy to determine what I should do after a slip up this bad. He might quit. He spoke of relationships at that Halloween party, and how they interfere with the job. I am the job, and I’ve completely disrespected his boundaries.

“I can feel you thinking too hard,” his chest rumbles against my ear as he talks. “Relax. You’ve been through enough tonight.”

The softness of his words ends up pushing a few tears over the edge, and I’m grateful he can’t see them. Thank god I decided to wash my hair, as now it provides coverage for my tenuity.

I’m not sure how long he holds me like this, but eventually, he asks if I think I can lay down for a while, and I nod into his t-shirt. I feel my chest tighten again as I crawl into bed, and I realize that he’s sitting in one of the chairs again, letting his head fall back to at least pretend to sleep. I try my best not to let the distance bother me, but I can feel my heartbeat fighting back, climbing to regain the insane rhythm it had before.

“Um,” I clear my throat, taking another breath before I continue. “Do you think you could sleep over here?”

I feel like a child. Lost and inconsolable over something that was, for now, solved. There was no reason to worry about losing him right now. No reason to be afraid in this room. But that feeling of loss is prevalent throughout my body, and I had thought we were safe at my apartment too.

Joel’s face is unreadable, staring back at me.

“I promise not to kiss you again,” I say, making my voice as normal as possible, attempting to add some humor to it. After another moment, this does make him crack the smallest of smiles. Every muscle in my body loosens as I see him get up from the chair and make his way over to the bed.

He lays on top of the blankets, which I should have anticipated. He couldn’t be further away from me, otherwise he would be on the floor, but he still decided to lay down facing me. I give him a tiny smile.

“I know you’re like, a trained killer or something, but I don’t care. If you tell anyone about me asking that, I will actually kill you.”

He chuckles enough to shake the bed a little, and my smile grows. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

After a few moments, I whisper, “I am really sorry, Mr. Miller. I shouldn’t have touched you—”

“It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.” He shifts his body, angling away from me slightly.

“Okay…but if you want to report it, or change assignments, I understand.”

Joel just shakes his head, letting his eyes close for a minute. “I don’t want that, Miss Russell. I appreciate it but… no.”

“Alright. Then I promise not to touch you again without your permission.”

The corner of his mouth turns upward before he hides it with a cough.

“Likewise.”

Likewise? He didn’t even return the kiss…But it doesn't matter. He’s probably trying to make me feel better, as usual.

“Do you want me to turn off the light?” He asks.

“I’ll do it,” I say, reaching for the remote next to me. I leave on one desk lamp in the corner of the room. I don’t need any of the furniture turning into humanoid shapes in the dark.

I stare at the ceiling for several minutes. It could have been hours, but the light outside is still pitch black. I can hear Joel’s steady breathing, but I know he isn’t asleep. Every so often, I feel his eyes peering over at me. After a long while, the weight of the night destroys my defenses, and I dare to ask.

“Why would a stalker want me to become CEO?”

I feel the eyes on the side of my face again. “They’ve probably put you on a pedestal. They want to see you succeed,” he says factually. I’m silent long enough for him to continue. “Do you want to be CEO?”

“Yes,” I answer without thinking, “But most people don’t want me to be.”

The bed shifts beside me, and now Joel’s whole body is turned to face me again. “Why would you say that?”

That question, this conversation…is something I haven’t dared speak about to anyone. Not even my friends. I trust Joel with my life, but not with this. This was worth more than just my life. I turn toward him before responding. I want to be able to gauge exactly how he reacts to what I’m about to say.

“I…did something, a few months ago. I’m not sure who in Russell Corp knows. If anyone knows. But I think you were hired to watch and report, not to protect,” I take a long inhale, phrasing my words just right, “I think there are people in the company who want to make sure I keep my mouth shut. I thought you were hired to do that.”

His eyebrows crease, his brown eyes searching mine in the dim light.

“I genuinely don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I nod. “It seems that way. But…I don’t trust anyone with this, Mr. Miller. No one else knows what I know. And I don’t know enough to trust your reason for being here.” It feels slightly absurd not to trust him after tonight especially. I thought someone was in my home, and I trusted Joel to take care of it. He moved without thinking. He put himself in harm’s way on a daily basis for me and the people I care about. Regardless of what he gets paid, it’s evident that he cares. But even with all of that knowledge between us both, he doesn’t look offended by my words.

“I’m from Texas.”

I stifle a laugh. “And that’s supposed to make you trustworthy?”

“You said you didn’t know enough about me. You don’t have to tell me anything now, or trust me now, for that matter. But if it would help…ask me anything you want to know.” His eyes are so sincere, his voice so gentle, that a small part of me would cry again if I let it.

“Do you have a family?” The question comes out without a filter, but I don’t care. I have wondered that before, and I would actually like to know.

“Of my own? No. My parents are gone, but I have a brother, Tommy. He lives in Texas, too.”

“Does he have a twang like you?”

It was a genuine question, but it makes him laugh. “You think I have a twang?”

“You do have a twang. It was one of the first things I noticed about you.”

It’s far too dark, and far too late, and I know I’m probably imagining things at this point. But I swear, Joel’s cheeks deepen with embarrassment.

“In that case, I suppose he does.”

“I suppose he does,” I mimic him, exaggerating his accent tenfold. Joel chuckles, shaking his head against his pillow. “What? You know I’m right.”

“I know that you’re loopy. That’s what I know. Any other questions?”

I think for a moment. “Who taught you to play guitar?”

“No one, really. I’m self-taught.”

“Ah. I should have guessed.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know. You’re…utilitarian. Independent, I guess. You seem like the type to teach yourself things.”

“I thought I was the observant one,” he says with a smile.

“Not the only observant one, is what I believe I said.” I unsuccessfully stifle a yawn as I say it.

“Not the only tired one, either. You should try to get some sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” I let out a long, unrestrained yawn now, “I should let you sleep.”

He shushes me again. “Stop apologizing. Just close your eyes.”

I want to tell him not to tell me what to do. But his voice is so soothing, and listening to the sound of his breathing next to me is the most calm I’ve felt all night. Truthfully, it’s the most calm I’ve felt in weeks.

Sleep finds me, and carries me away with ease.

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[lauronk]

Hmm... Maybe an AU fic where ellie is a singer and joel is her bodyguard? Idk

okay so this one i just did as a ficlet but also i could fully see myself coming back and fleshing this out later, it would fit so well into alterationsverse!

chasing all those stars

length: ~1.9k words tags: joel & ellie; alternate universe - modern; brief mentions of attempted assault; brief mention of someone being killed; depression; father-daughter relationship; joel's still the best dad no matter the universe; no beta we die like david

i kind of just jumped into the middle of this one, but like i said, i might come back and make more of it at some point. hope you enjoy!

Ellie doesn’t really remember a time when she wasn’t doing this. Sitting on stage with a guitar, singing songs she scribbled on napkins. First in dive bars, open mic nights, pretty much anywhere that had a microphone and a stool for her to sit on, even places she shouldn’t have been because she was too young. Her voice wasn’t really anything to write home about - she wasn’t gonna be the next Kelly Clarkson - but it was good, and really Ellie’d always had more of an eye to being a songwriter than anything. Plus…she just wanted out of her house, wanted to earn a little bit of pocket money that her foster father couldn’t touch.

But then some record exec had happened to be at an open mic one night at the Mohawk, and before she could blink it felt like Ellie had been swept away to New York to record a demo. And the demo had been well-received, and she’d been given a contract and then she was recording an album, at the grand old age of fifteen. You’ll be the next Taylor Swift, someone had said to her, and then promptly been confused when Ellie had cringed away. She had nothing against Taylor - she had the entire Red (Taylor’s Version) vault on repeat most days- but she couldn’t think of an artist more opposite than herself.

And now here she was, twenty years old, third album almost complete, three Grammys and four People’s Choice awards under her belt, management already gearing up to promote her tour, and Ellie was just…

Exhausted.

She’d bought a house out in Boston that she never got to spend time in because she was always on the road somewhere, doing some promotional appearance, on a tour, filming a music video. Never enough time for herself, barely time to do what she really loved, which was writing songs. Half of this album was songs other people had written, and Ellie felt those songs chafing against her skin every time she sang them.

Ellie’s head rolls along the back of the chair, turning until she’s looking out the studio window to where her bodyguard sits, brow furrowed as he scrolls on his phone.

At least she’s got Joel. Through all the insanity, she’s always got Joel.

He looks up at her now, corner of his lips tilting up when he sees her already looking, and he pushes to his feet when she tilts her head. He moves a bit slower these days - he’s just turned sixty, which is well past the usual age for a bodyguard, but she’s got younger, more scarily muscular men to guard her when she really needs it.

Joel is…he’s like an emotional support blanket at this point, not that she’d ever tell him that.

“You about ready to go, kiddo?”

Ellie sighs and holds out her hands for him to pull her up, which he does obligingly. He’s still strong, even at his age, still could probably hold his own in a fight. Definitely still lethal with a gun when necessary, definitely still willing to kill for her. He’d only had to do it once - and her foster father had really had it coming - but Ellie knew he’d do it again in a heartbeat.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Joel picks up her guitar case before she can and slings it over his shoulder, guiding her out of the rented studio with a careful hand between her shoulder blades. Ellie doesn’t say anything as he loads it in the back of his SUV and opens the back door for her - he never lets her ride in the front - and he starts to drive them back to her penthouse.

She stares out the window, not really seeing their surroundings, until Joel calls her name from the front seat. He’s watching her through the rearview mirror, furrow in his brow.

“Y’alright?”

Ellie blows out a breath, watching the buildings grow taller and taller around them. Nothing against New York, really, she had just never quite pictured herself living here.

“Is it stupid that I’m unhappy?” She asks, looking down at her hands. Her cuticles are already picked raw, so she leaves them alone, instead tugging at a loose thread on her absurdly expensive designer jeans.

“Why would it be stupid?” Joel flicks on the blinker, making a right. In the distance, Ellie can see her building. Her manager had said the penthouse was a good investment, prime real estate, excellent price, secure building. And it was all those things.

But it was also all modern angles, glass, dark furniture meant more to be looked at than sat on, and so many goddamn windows. Two years with it as her primary residence and it still didn’t feel like home. It was like a crash pad instead, a place she was borrowing from a stranger - not somewhere she could see herself living forever.

“Because.” Ellie pulls on the thread even harder. “I’m rich and successful and have the life a gazillion people would kill for. What’s there to be unhappy about, right?”

Never mind that she hadn’t been able to make it work with Cat, or that her friend Riley had been killed by a crazy fan who had broken into Ellie’s last apartment, or that her foster father had tried to swindle all her money and then assault her, and she’d had to watch Joel blow the man’s brains out to save her.

It’s Joel’s turn to sigh. “Just because you're rich don’t mean you don’t have problems. You’re allowed to be unhappy.”

Ellie makes a noise of assent but doesn’t say anything else as they pull into the underground parking of her building. Joel carries her guitar again - and he’s the only one she lets handle it, seeing as how he gave it to her - and then swipes the keycard for the elevator.

It’s not until they’re upstairs, her guitar carefully removed from its case and set on its stand, that Joel nudges her to sit down on the couch. He lowers himself to the coffee table across from her and rubs a hand over his chin. He fixes her with that look that he so rarely gets, the one that says he’s about to make her talk about shit she doesn’t want to talk about.

But Ellie doesn’t stop him, because if anyone’s got the right it’s him. She stopped pretending two years ago that Joel was just her bodyguard and not the closest thing she’s ever had to family, and so had he.

“Talk to me, baby girl,” he says gently, and the knot of anxiety sitting in her chest slowly unravels.

Ellie sucks in an unsteady breath, annoyed to find herself blinking back tears, and she whispers, “I don’t know if I wanna do this anymore.”

Joel doesn’t look the slightest bit surprised by her words, just nods slowly. So Ellie keeps going.

“I always just…wanted to write songs. Didn’t really care about performing them, just needed a way to get all this shit out of me. And it felt like suddenly here I was, given all this,” she waves her hand towards the apartment she hates, “over people who worked way harder and wanted it way more. And I feel like an asshole for not being grateful enough for it, not appreciating it, just wishing I could give it back.”

The tears are flowing freely now, and Ellie digs the heels of her palms into her eyes, pressing until roughened hands encircle her wrist and gently tug.

“You’re not an asshole,” Joel says firmly. “You’re not,” he insists when she starts to shake her head, “and you ain’t allowed to bad-mouth my kid like that.”

Ellie lets out a wet laugh, the same flare of warmth erupting in her chest that she always gets when Joel calls her that. “Sorry.”

He swipes at her cheek with a thumb. “You wouldn’t be the first person to achieve their dreams and find out it ain’t what you thought it would be, Ellie. There’s no shame in admittin’ that. And if it’s makin’ you so unhappy, you can always walk away, baby. All the wealth and fame and awards in the world ain’t worth you bein’ miserable.”

“Walk away to where?” Ellie asks softly, hating how much just the suggestion of it has lifted her spirits already. Logistically, of course, it wouldn’t be that easy - she’s contractually obligated through at least this third album and one more tour in support. But after that?

After that, she could just fucking leave, and the realization makes Ellie feel like she can breathe for the first time in…years.

Joel shrugs. “Dunno, ‘s up to you to figure that out. But –” he hesitates, rubs a hand over his jaw again. “When’s your next big thing? Appearance or anythin’?”

Ellie wants to tease him for not knowing when he’s the one that’s supposed to be escorting her to all these things, but it’s not like she can think of it either, so she pulls out her phone to open her calendar. There’s over two dozen unanswered texts and another ten missed calls, and Ellie’s heart rate spikes even as she ignores them.

“Looks like three weeks from now,” Ellie says slowly. “And that’s the time where I’m supposed to be getting a few more songs down for the album.”

“Well,” Joel scrapes his palms over his thighs, “why don’t you and I take a roadtrip? I ain’t been out to see my brother since last Christmas, and he’s been on my ass about it.”

Right, Joel’s brother. The one with a lawyer wife and a toddler son, who owns a ranch out west somewhere. Ellie’s never met him, despite Joel trying repeatedly to make it happen, but she’s afraid that Tommy won’t like her or won’t think Joel should still be guarding her. And what the fuck would she do then? She can’t lose Joel.

“We can drive out there,” he says coaxingly, reaching forward to shake her knee, “spend a couple weeks relaxin’, you can do all that introspection you ain’t got time for anymore, figure out what you wanna do. Maybe even get some songs written while you’re at it.”

He says the last part teasingly, and Ellie whacks him with a pillow, rolling her eyes. “Never should’ve told you I was blocked,” she mumbles, even as she knows it’s not true. She always tells Joel everything, shit that reporters would kill to find out. He was the first person she came out to - she trusts him more than anyone else.

Joel bats the pillow away and leans down, arms braced on his knees. “We don’t gotta do that, baby. We can figure out some other way, but I just thought…couple weeks out in middle-of-nowhere Wyoming might do you some good.”

Ellie chews her lower lip, mulling it over. The more she thinks on it, the more she likes the sound of it. Even if Tommy and his family don’t like her - despite Joel assuring her repeatedly they would love her - she can at least get a bit of peace and quiet.

“I’ll even let you ride in the front seat,” Joel tacks on, grin pulling at his mouth, and Ellie feels an answering one spread across her own face.

“Swear?”

“I swear,” Joel replies, still grinning, and Ellie sticks out her hand for him to shake.

“Deal.”

thanks for reading!

[silverskye13]

hope its okay to share this here! but the hels!joel ficlet has been written. i would have @ you with it but i wasn't sure how you felt about that <3

I'm. Love him. Oh my gosh. Poor poor Joel [Hypatia].

[justagalwhowrites]

The Savage and the Sanctuary - Prologue

Tommy offers Joel help one last time. The prologue to The Savage and the Sanctuary, a no outbreak TLOU story found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Grief. Mentions of child death. No use of Y/N. Whole fic will be explicit so minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 1.3k

Fic Masterlist | Masterlist | AO3 | Next Chapter

“If you think I’m not going to fight for what’s mine, you’re insane!” 

Joel remembered the woman on the screen. She was young, beautiful, her perfectly made up face snarled in rage. He remembered her. He always remembered her. 

He remembered the scene, too. 

Sarah had loved this show. She was obsessed, one of her friends at school put her onto it and she watched it all in a matter of weeks on Netflix. 

Joel had hated this show. There were drugs and sex and Sarah was just 13 when she watched it but he’d been such a sucker for her that he let her. He’d always been a sucker for her. He always gave her whatever she asked for. 

Maybe that had been wrong.

Maybe if he’d stood his ground more, maybe if he’d been a better father instead of just giving his daughter whatever she wanted, she wouldn’t be dead. 

“Mr. Miller?” 

Joel looked away from the television, reminded that he was in the hospital and that it must be after 3 a.m. by now. The nurse stood in the doorway, an almost pitying look on her face. 

“Your brother is here to see you.” 

Joel just went back to watching the TV. The woman he remembered was still there, beautiful face streaked with tears.

“I can’t believe you,” she whispered. She was a good actress, he thought. Convincing. She sounded like she was in pain. He doubted someone like her even knew what that would really feel like, what that would really sound like. He did. He knew. 

“Joel.” 

He looked to the door, his brother standing there, the early morning beginnings of a beard on his chin, in athletic wear instead of the suit he saw him in so often these days. He looked back to the TV. 

“You can’t keep doing this, man,” Tommy said, coming in and standing beside him. The woman on the TV raised a gun. “You can’t keep beating the shit out of people you don’t like, I can’t keep trying to buy them off, Maria can’t keep talking you out of trouble with the cops… Hell, I only really talked Maria into it this time because it’s the anniversary of the day she… we know it’s hard but you’re this close to ending up in deep shit with an actual rap sheet, man.” 

She screamed and sobbed as she pulled the trigger. 

“Joel.” 

The woman panted for breath before lifting the gun to her temple. It cut to commercial. 

“Sarah loved that show,” Joel said, looking away from the TV to see Tommy close his eyes and shake his head with a sigh. 

“I know you’ve been strugglin’,” Tommy said, crossing his arms and looking at him again. “And I don’t blame you, alright? What you’ve been through… I’d be a wreck too. I know it ain’t the same but it killed me too, for a while, losing her that way. Can’t even imagine what it’s like for you. But Joel… it’s been three years now. You can’t keep destroying yourself like this, you just can’t. It’s killing me to watch you do it but I don’t got it in me to keep saving you. I cannot let you drag me down with you, not now, not with…” 

He clenched his jaw for a moment, looking back toward the door and back at Joel again. 

“Maria’s pregnant.” Joel’s heart clenched. “She’s my focus now. I want to be there for you, Joel. Lord knows I owe you after everything you did for me but I can’t do it at the expense of myself or my wife and my kid. You understand?” 

Joel nodded slowly, looking to his boots. There was a dark spot on the left toe, the leather never really clean from the blood. 

“Here,” Tommy held out a business card.

Joel frowned. 

“Think I know how to get ahold of my own brother.” 

“This ain’t for me,” Tommy said. “It’s my hiring manager. This is the last thing I’m doin’ for you, Joel. Come and work for me. I can help you that way, make sure you’re not out there on your own. You don’t got the formal training of the other guys but we can handle that. Christ knows you got the raw skill, just ask the asshole whose face you rearranged…” 

“He’s lucky that’s all I did,” Joel snapped. 

Tommy ignored him. 

“Once your hand heals up, we can get you started,” Tommy said, card still out. Joel took it, running his fingers over the embossed lettering. “I want to help you, Joel. I want to be there for you. This is the last way I can do that. Understand?” 

He just looked at the card, Miller Security in large letters, Military Grade Personal Protection in smaller ones below. The email address was for someone named Marlene. 

Joel had probably met her at some point but he didn’t remember her. Joel had been to a few company BBQs and happy hours for the private security company his brother had founded about six months after his daughter died. 

Tommy used to work alongside Joel, the two of them taking contracting work together. If wasn’t easy work but it was satisfying. Joel liked building things, liked working with his hands and seeing the physical manifestations of his labor. It wasn’t a bad life, in hindsight. Not since he’d blown it. 

After his daughter died, Joel couldn’t keep working. He tried, after a few weeks, to get back to it but he sometimes showed up drunk, sometimes didn’t show up at all. It wasn’t long before he was fired and word spread. Soon, he got shot down for every job he tried for. He’d screwed over not just himself but Tommy, too. 

That’s how Tommy came to create the security company to begin with. He had a few old special forces buddies move back to town looking for work and Tommy realized he had a lot of highly trained men with time on their hands at his fingertips. What better way to put them to use than to start a security company?

The business took off. Joel was proud of him. Or, as proud as he could be while the rot of guilt gnawed at him for letting down his then struggling brother so badly he needed to start his own fucking business to fix it. 

And now his brother - six years his junior, the kid he’d promised his mother he’d look after when she was on her death bed - was offering him a job after bailing him out at least a dozen times in three years. 

“I want to help, Joel,” Tommy said. “Please let me. Work with me, get back on your feet, have a support system. I want to help but you have to let yourself be helped. Please.” 

Joel tucked the card into the pocket of his shirt and looked at Tommy, a pleading look in his eyes. Eyes that reminded him of Sarah. 

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll email in the mornin’.” 

Tommy closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Thank you,” he said as a nurse came in around him. “I’ll be out here, give you a ride home…” 

“We’ll have him out quick,” the woman smiled kindly as Tommy turned to go. “I’m here to handle discharge. Can you confirm your name and birthday for me?” 

“Joel Miller,” he said. “September 26, 1982.” 

“Oh!” She looked up from the chart and smiled at Joel. “Happy birthday!” 

Next Chapter

A/N: Welcome to The Savage and the Sanctuary! I like to introduce my new fics as I'm finishing up an existing one. This likely won't get chapter one for a few weeks yet but you never know what might happen! I hope you're excited to go on this journey as Joel learns to find himself again after surviving the loss of Sarah. There's a lot of angst and excitement and smut ahead! Fingers crossed you enjoy the ride.

Love you!

Taglist: @christinamadsen

[biggestsimponhere]

My beloved @kib-ble wanted a Joel bodyguard au so that’s what they’re gonna get.

Bodyguard!Joel miller x Famous!Reader AU, im sorry i couldn’t help but put a little angst between joel and ellie. it’s in my blood to make things sad. I’m also giving you famous friends from our world so don’t mind that. If you’re mad about being friends with them, idk, cry about it. (They aren’t bad people btw, just celebs i follow) I’m making you friends with the cast of the rookie. i don’t pay that much attention to celebrities but i like the rookie.

Warnings - TW! Sexual harassment/Assault (Someone grabs your ass unasked for but don’t worry joel will put him in his place) This is not tlou cannon it just has tlou characters if you don’t like it don’t read :) there are no zombies! TLOU CANNON LEVEL VIOLENCE (its really just a fist fight but yk) Sarah’s here too idgaf if she and ellie couldn’t be at the same time, don’t ask about ellie’s parents (fatal car accident 😔) (THIS IS WAY LONGER THAN I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE OR INTENDED IT TO BE PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT MORE OR IF YOU LIKE IT)

“You know you’re not meant to run away from the person protecting you?” A voice interrupted your silence. Not just any voice. His voice. “Well i wouldn’t have to run away if i could have five minutes to myself, miller” You replied standing up. “You know it’s for your safety right? We’re not just here to bother you” He said walking over to you. “Oh trust me i know, you only remind me everyday” You said rolling your eyes. “How did you even find me anyways?” You continued turning to him. “You’re not that hard to find princess” He remarked moving closer to you. “Come on, you’ve got a dinner to get to, and some creep was lurking out there with his camera” He said sliding his hand into yours to pull you out of the room you’d hidden away in.

“Why do I even have to go to this thing anyways” You said smiling at the feeling of his hand in yours. “Because it’s important, at least that’s what your manager said” He said continuing down the hall. “Stop here” He said letting go of your hand to grab the door. Your hand felt slightly colder without his warmth but you just shook it off. “Okay, no one’s there, move, quickly” He said ushering you out the door. Walking out the door you practically ran to the car with Joel trailing close behind. Once you were safely in the car Joel told the driver where to go. “So why do you spend all your time following me around, I mean i know it’s your job, but you hardly ever switch someone” You said turning to him.

He’s been your bodyguard for years and always seems to be around. “Well it’s my job like you said, and I only have one person to get back to” He said smiling slightly. Feeling a little dejected thinking he had a girlfriend you asked who. “Ellie. I’m like her guardian or whatever, I raised her, she lives with me in a small town, but she’s grown now, doesn’t need me hovering around her” He said looking out the window. “I’m sure she’ll always need you” You said smiling at him. “Yeah, i guess, but she spends a whole lot more time with her friends than she does me. I mean we don’t even go on walks anymore. It’s just ‘Bye Joel i’m going out with Dina and Jesse’. It’s like she doesn’t need me” He said a little dejectedly.

“Well she’s a teenager right? She needs her space and I’m sure if you just asked you could spend more time together” You said reaching over to pat his knee. You were about to remove your hand when he put his over yours and held it there. “Yeah i’m sure you’re right” He said smiling at you. That was a rarity. Joel Miller barely ever smiles so you feel pretty special when he throws one your way. After that the conversation died out but you still had your hand on his knee and his was still over yours. As the car rolled to a stop he looked down remembering your hand was there and he quickly removed his. He stepped out of the car and walked to your side to open the door.

“Miss y/l/n” He said grabbing your hand to help you out of the car. Much more professional than you two had been five minutes ago. There were photographers everywhere. They all kept shouting at you to look at them and you did your best to keep up. Eventually someone came outside and ushered you and Joel and your other guard Andrew inside. Once you were inside you were led to a table full of people you either knew or recognized. “Ahh y/n, you’re here!” Melissa cheered. “That i am!” You replied hugging here. “We wondered when we were gonna see you again.” Eric said smiling at you. You slid into your seat between the two and continued talking to all of them.

“Is he gonna keep staring at us like that?” Mekia asked looking over your shoulder. You turned around to see Joel glaring at the table but softening a bit when he caught your eye. You smiled at him and then turned back, “Joel’s always like that, but he won’t do anything unless one of you tries something” You said laughing. “He doesn’t seem like he’s always like that considering he smiled after you turned away” Nathan said raising an eyebrow at you. “Now he’s right back to glaring” Mekia said laughing. Soon the food arrived and you started eating. The whole point of this event was to make friends with other actors and actresses, but really mostly people just stuck by people they already knew.

“Are you gonna come dance with us?” Alyssa said after you’d all finished eating. “I suppose” You said pretending to be reluctant but smiling anyways. “Come on they opened the bar!” Melissa said grabbing your hand. “Well i’ll never say no to free alcohol” You said letting her pull you. After a few drinks (more like 5) you were still dancing with your friends. “Hey pretty lady” Some guy whispered in your ear as he came up behind you. This immediately caught Joel’s eye but he didn’t want to step in until it was a problem. Everything was fine, until it wasn’t. You had just silently moved away but he followed you. Once he grabbed your ass you pushed him away.

He stumbled back into a few people but came back almost immediately after he moved forward Joel was by your side. “I suggest you take a few steps back” He said pulling you behind him. “What’re you gonna do old man” The man said challenging him. Joel walked you back a little before swinging at the man. He stumbled back into the people behind him who took this opportunity to flee the dance floor leaving you, joel and the man standing in it. The man quickly threw a punch at joel which he caught and then punched the guy in the stomach. After that the man got the upperhand for a second and you were about to do something, anything but Melissa and Eric pulled you back.

“He’s okay, this what he was hired for” Melissa said to you as you continued watching them fight. Eventually after a solid punch Joel knocked the man out cold. You ran over to him grabbing his shoulders. “Fuck Joel, you’re insane, he could have killed you” You said gripping his jacket. “Probably not, but im okay, just a little sore and a few scratches” He said rubbing his hands up your arms. As you continued scolding joel security came to drag the other man out to some car to take him to the hospital. “A few scratches?! Your knuckles are bloody and scraped to hell” You said turning your attention to his hand. You were close to tears by this point.

He stopped your frantic search for more injuries by pulling you into his arms. “You hear that princess? M’hearts still beating” He whispered into your ear. You stood like that for a couple minutes before he spoke again. “Are you okay?” He said pulling you out of his chest. Of course he’s thinking of your comfort when he’s all scraped up. “Yeah, I’m okay now, let’s get you to the hospital” You said wiping your nose. “I don’t want to go to the hospital, i’ll just go home tommy and ellie can probably help me better anyways” He said shaking his head. “Joel you need to go to the hospital” You scolded him.

“Please, i don’t want to go to the hospital, just let me go home, please” He practically begged you. You’d never heard him sound like this let alone say please. “Yeah okay, but i’m coming with you” You grabbed his arm before walking over to your friends. “I’m gonna take him home, just didn’t want to leave without sayin goodbye” You said hugging your friends. Joel stood behind you while you said bye to your friends. He’s never been as fidgety as he is right now, something must be really bothering him. “Alright, let’s get you home yeah?” You said grabbing his good hand. He just nodded and wordlessly followed you out the door. Once you settled in the car and told the driver to take you to joel’s you rolled up the screen separating the back and the front.

“Joel” You said quietly unsure how to approach the problem. He hummed in response tilting his head towards you. “Are you okay?” The silence filled the car after that. You didn’t want to speak again until he said something. It took him a few minutes but he spoke again. “No, not really” He said grabbing onto your hand. You unbuckled and moved closer to him. Wrapping your arms around him you buried your face in his shoulder. Joel’s never been like this in all the years you’ve known him. You were about to speak again when you felt tears hit your chest and heard his shaky breathing. Instead of speaking you just held him tighter and let him cry into your chest.

“I’m sorry” He said finally pulling away from you. “Don’t apologize, you don’t ever have to apologize for your emotions” You said swiping his hair off his forehead. He nodded and pulled you into another hug, which you returned. “Do you wanna talk about it?” You asked quietly. “No, at least not right now” He said pulling away as the car rolled to a stop in front of joel’s. You slid out with him and stopped walking when he walked back over to the car. You didn’t hear what he said but shortly after the car pulled away leaving you both alone. “Come on, we gotta get you cleaned up” You held out your hands to him which he took. Once you both walked through the door Ellie sprung up from the couch.

She took in the both of you before speaking. “What the hell happened to you” She said scanning joel’s injuries. “It’s nothin” Joel brushed it off walking past her into the kitchen. You stood there awkwardly before joel called you into the kitchen. “I called tommy he should be here in a few minutes, would you like something to drink?” He said walking over to you. “No i’m alright” You smiled before sitting in a chair at the table. “Joel? Are you gonna tell me what happened or should i ask her?” Ellie said walking into the kitchen. “It was just a little fight, ellie i’m fine” He said brushing off her concern. “A little fight? You’re all scraped up, you haven’t had a fight in forever too” She said continuing to pester him.

You enjoyed watching the two of them interact. “Ellie i said it’s nothing” He said coming off a little harshly. She shrunk a little before stepping back. “I’m sorry kiddo, it was just a rough day” He said turning towards her. Then the door to the house opened and tommy walked in. “Joel, what the hell happened?” Tommy said walking into the kitchen. Once he stopped he spotted you. “I didn’t know you had a girlfriend?” He said turning back to joel. “Girlfriend?!” Sarah said running down the stairs. “She’s not my girlfriend, and what’re you doing here? Aren’t you meant to be at home with your family?” Joel said turning to her.

You were happy to just sit quietly and watch joel interact with the people he loves. “I told them i was gonna hang out with ellie for a little” She said brushing off his question. “Sorry to butt in but joel you’re still hurt” You said finally speaking. “Right” Tommy said reaching under the sink for the first aid kit. As tommy worked on cleaning joel in the living room, Sarah and Ellie moved to sit next to you. Joel had begrudgingly left you alone with them but not without warning them to behave. “Soooo, what’re your intentions with my dad” Sarah said first. “You can’t just ask her things like that” Ellie said cutting her off. “What do you mean?” You said finally.

“Are you together? Do you like him? Do you love him?” She said, the questions flowing out of her mouth rapidly. “No we’re not together” You we’re about to continue speaking when joel walked back in and cut you off. “Stop botherin her” He said stopping behind your chair. “We’re not bothering her, right?” Sarah said looking from her father to you. “They’re fine Joel, really.” You said looking up at him. “Did you send Drew away or is he gonna be back?” You said turning to fully face him. “He’s gone, you can stay here tonight” He said with full confidence. “But we don’t have a guest room” Ellie said looking up at him confused. “She can just sleep in my bed, i’ll sleep on the couch” Joel said sitting in the chair next to you.

“Hell no, after tonight your sleeping in your bed, i cant take that away from you” You said shaking your head. “Why don’t you just share the bed?” Sarah said looking between the two of you. “Yeah, I mean you’re both adults” Tommy said patting joel on the shoulder. “Are you okay with that?” Joel said nudging your foot with his. “Yeah, Yeah, we can handle it” You said trying not to sound to eager. “Sarah can you go to yours and grab her some clothes?” Joel turned to his daughter. “Sure!” She said standing up and leaving quickly. “Alright, i’ve gotta get back home before maria strings me up but i’ll be seeing you” Tommy said pointing to you as he left. “Can i go have a sleepover at Dina’s? I meant to ask you earlier but you weren’t home” Ellie said turning to Joel.

“Yeah go ahead” And with that Ellie got up and grabbed the bag she had apparently already packed and ran out the door. “Guess it’s just us then” Joel said chuckling awkwardly. You nodded and then the door opened again. “I only have pajama shorts, sorry, but she can borrow one of your shirts right dad?” Sarah said handing you the shorts. “Of course you can” Joel said slightly smiling. “Alright, gotta go” Sarah said turning back around and leaving. “Let’s go to bed” Joel said pulling you up and then walking you to the stairs. Once you two had reached his bedroom he walked in and pulled out a shirt for you. He handed it to you before turning around.

As you stated to take off your jewelry you remembered the zipper on the back of your dress. You tried to do it yourself but since you couldn’t even zip it yourself how did you expect to take it off. “Um, Joel?” You whispered into the room. “Yes?” He called back. “I, uh, i cant unzip it” You said too embarrassed to turn around. You heard footsteps move closer to you before stopping just behind you. You could feel his breath on your neck as he began to speak. “Do you need some help?” Your breath caught as you realized how close he is to you. You nodded and his hands moved to the zipper. His fingers brushing against your back sent sparks shooting through you.

“It’s unzipped” He said pulling you out of your thoughts. You realized he must have turned around again as you couldn’t hear his voice as clearly. You slid his shirt and the shorts on and turned back to face him. “You can look now” You said and he turned towards you. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of you in his shirt and extremely small shorts. He can’t help but think sarah did that on purpose. You both climbed into bed, as you settled in you thought to yourself how you could get used to this. Family talks, His shirts, Sleeping next to him in bed. “Joel” You said slowly. He hummed turning to look at you.

“Would you hold me?” You asked quietly. He nodded and flipped the light off before settling in behind you. He wrapped his arms around you and smiled at the feeling of finally having you in his arms even if it isn’t when he’s with you. That would be a talk for another time. “Goodnight joel” You said rolling over to face him. “Goodnight sunshine” Joel said as you snuggled into his chest. Yeah you could get used to this. And so could he.

[angelkhi]

mirrorball - j.m

pairing: bodyguard!joel miller x f!reader (3rd person)

summary: a gala isn’t your thing, dress shopping isn’t Joel’s. It’s a shame no one can get their way.

warnings: 18+ (minors DNI), smut in future parts, mentions of alcohol, references to being roofied, language, sexual themes (no actual sex), mentions of blood, joel is a massive dick. let me know if i missed anything!word count: 2.8k

a little note: it’s here! (kinda). ive been kinda busy (i graduated!) but also wanted to take my time with this, and maybe explore some aspects of writing that i usually skim over (my bad). i estimate that this will be maybe 3 parts? i hope i do it justice either way, this fic was born out of this hc, but mostly your encouraging responses. thank you for being so kind 🩷

series masterlist part two>>

For a price tag of almost three grand, her dress is itchy. Sure it's beautiful enough that the slimy little daddy's boys will fawn over her, and each superficial gold digger will give her one syllable compliments in an overly saturated tone, but it fucking itches. She hikes the material further up her thigh for the third time since the short car ride began, trying to scratch at her skin. Maybe it's an allergic reaction. She hopes so, that way she can avoid the event all together. She's half way to pulling her sleeve away from her shoulder, ready to scratch the irritated skin, but a firm grip around her wrist prevents her from that sweet sweet relief.

"Stop fidgeting." Joel's tone is clipped, the usual hint of strain pulling across his words. She swears she's never seen him relax, not since he became her live-in bodyguard anyway. She cuts her eye at him but of course he's not looking. The only time she ever really has his attention is if her life is in danger, other than that its pure nonchalance and ignorant glances. She can admire his desire to fulfil the position, what with the pay and free accommodation, hell if she had a real job she'd probably be just as uptight as him. But there's only so much a person can take.

"It's itchy." Of course she sounds like a whiny little brat. It's fine, that's all he thinks of her anyway, she's sure of it.

"Should've picked the other one then."

She almost laughs.

She had walked him around the store at least four times, each trip resulting in the same two dresses. She couldn't decide between the colours, then the length, and then the sleeves. In the end he forced her into the changing room, mumbling she either picks one of those or goes in nothing. They both know that's not an option. Both dresses felt nice, as nice as a constricting piece of fabric could feel, they both looked as nice as they could in the dreary washed out lighting. In the end she had asked Joel, who sat just the other side of the door, arms folded, shoulders tense, scowl mastered.

Joel isn't one for verbal communication, unless it's telling her to 'go here' or 'stay there' or his most frequented phrase, 'shut up'.

But his eyes say it all.

Sometimes it's a simple twitch, letting her know he's not as irritated as he lets on, others it's a slight squint. That's her personal favourite. That's when she knows she's got him right on the edge.

His eyes fix on her, moving slow and calculated over the second dress. The way the fabric moulds to each divot and curve of her body, lingering on her chest, on the slightly too high slit exposing her thigh. It's a clear winner.

His levels of exasperation had clearly spiked in the time it took for her to change again, his constant glaring, huffing and puffing dialled up to 100. His wide steps only seem to grow wider on the way to the checkout, his whole demeanour screaming get me the fuck out of here. Which is why she doubles back on herself, not needing to check if he's following, she knows he will.

She stops, a wide array of underwear in front of her. She takes her time, making sure to show each and every barely there pair to him, watching that eye twitch with a perfect mix of irritation and lightly tethered resolve.

He'd dragged her out of there in the end, though not after she held up the skimpiest pair of panties she could find. His hand wraps tight around her arm, not enough to hurt her, she knows he'd never do that. But enough to tell her she's officially pushed his buttons a little too much.

Soon enough the car rolls to a slow stop in front of a grand building. Stone columns tower over her when Joel leads her from the car. She likes to pretend it's not in his job description, that instead he's simply just an emotionally constipated gentleman, but she's not stupid enough to believe it. Still, when his hand finds the small of her back, when he guides her up the steps and into the vast museum-turned-ballroom, it's hard to believe that his behaviour is entirely obligatory.

The event is just as grand as she expected. Her father certainly has no trouble with throwing his wealth around, even less so when it presents the opportunity to show just how wealthy he is. An ornate chandelier hangs from the ceiling, casting a warm twinkling light over the guests. An sizeable portion of an orchestra plays dreary classical music from the back of the room, and the guests are filling the space, drinking overpriced champagne and nibbling on bite sized canapés.

She waltzes through the sea of false affluence, painting on her best smile, choosing her most pleasant tone, saying all of the right words. She embraces her father heartily, pushing down the small piece of resistance when he pulls her close. She puts on a good, exhausting show. The only thing that keeps her grounded is Joel, hot on her 5-inch heels, anticipating her every move, being ten steps ahead of her.

She's seated with a handful of the elite from the gathering, laughing when they relay the same stories as always, gasping and feigning surprise when they compliment her. She eats the bland food with a sweet smile and laughs off propositions from parents who just know their son would be a perfect match for her.

In between convoluted speeches, she listens to them drone on about their latest investments, or how well their darling daughters are performing in their ballet classes. She smiles, she drinks. she laughs. She's the perfect daughter. The luckiest girl in the room, with the richest daddy and all the luxuries life could offer. But sat at that table, choking down specs of gold in the dry champagne, she feels more akin to the age old scrolls and scriptures.

A caged artefact, another one of her father's prized possessions, on display to be gasped at. She'd give anything for the glass to shatter, for tiny shards to rain down on each and every person in here. She'd marvel in their horror as they learn they bleed the same as everyone else on this planet. That they're not special, and neither is she.

From the corner of her eye, she spots Joel hiding in the shadows, standing to attention. His eyes constantly scan the room and every few seconds, they're on her. She almost feels bad for practically ogling him whilst he's doing his very best to keep her alive. But his black suit fits his form so well it'd be a sin not to look. She watches as he readjusts his cufflinks for the third time, the material catching around his biceps, the single button clipped across his stomach almost straining with every moment.

Yes, Joel is an insufferable bastard, but he's an unfathomably good looking one. His stoic behaviour is almost forgiven on that basis alone.

A round of applause pulls her from her Joel induced trance. She fixes her smile and joins in, nodding jovially with those around her. Not soon enough, she's free to leave the table, thanking them for their company, and heads straight for the bar. She feels Joel's presence before she sees him, perching a few seats down, eyes still wondering.

She doesn't pay much attention to the man next to her. His suit probably cost more than what most people make in a year, and his charming smile is more snake-like. She smiles when he pays for her drink, laughs and touches his arm, letting him think he has a chance. He's been talking about his most recent investment in overseas stocks for ten minutes, and all she wants is to go home and take off these fucking uncomfortable heels. To be able to breathe without the rigid dress digging into her skin. She wants to be alone, or as alone she can be with her human shadow.

"... and profits are at an all time high. My old man reckons I'll be taking over from him soon enough" The man, Matt? Mike? Manny, speaks. She flashes him a smile.

"Wow. That's amazing." Or at least she hopes it is, he could be talking about his dead childhood pet for all she knows.

"Let me buy you another drink?" He asks. Though it's more of a demand, he's already flagged down the bartender, ordering something sweet and fruity her, and a "real man's" drink for himself.

"You got the last round. I'll get these." She pretends to root around in her too-small purse knowing he'll decline, they always do. Men like him take any chance to throw their money around, wave it in peoples faces, impress the men and woo the ladies.

By the time she's ended the facade, he's waving his amex at her dismissively, nudging the drink towards her. Once again she smiles. She doesn't even want the drink, certainly not in his company.

His beady eyes watch her, a hint of something beneath the thick layer of painted on charm. That snake-like nature increases tenfold and it takes everything in her not to tip the drink down the front of his Givenchy shirt. The glass is barely in her hands when it's ripped from her hands, the familiar scent of Joel invading her space.

His face is taught, that scowl he loves so dearly gone, in its place pure rage. His eyes are dangerously dark, and she's sure if she looked hard enough, there would be smoke blowing from his ears.

It all happens so quickly. The sloshing drink flies from the glass straight into Manny's face, dripping down onto his clothes, turning his sickly white suit into a damp shade of pink. Then Joel is moving, slamming the empty glass onto the bar and gripping the terrified man by his collar.

She can feel the eyes of almost everyone at the gala trained solely on them, she almost expects the music to come to a screeching halt.

She can barely make out Joel's enraged words, despite the silent crowd. She's barely aware of his hand gripping her arm, pulling her through the parting guests. A sea of shocked faces, some sympathetic others purely confused. She stumbles on the top step, her stupid heels and Joel's insane pace working against her. The world turns upside down, and her hands reach out to brace herself, hitting his sturdy back. Even with a layer of clothing between them, she swears she can feel his bare hands across the back of her thighs, the tight muscle of his shoulder pressing against her stomach.

He's thrown her over his shoulder. Like a damned child. And now he's shoving her into the back of the car, as though she's the one that threw a tantrum and caused a scene. He rounds the car and slips in beside her, and they're speeding off back towards her apartment.

The last few minutes slowly slip from a hazy blur to a sharp reality, and she can't help but stare at him. Confusion and pure embarrassment hit her first, then comes the anger. He speaks to the driver for a second, and then the partition is rolling up again.

The car feels ten times smaller and itching of her dress is long forgotten. She wants to ask him what happened, why he dragged her out of there like an insubordinate child, but he's busy typing on his phone, making hushed calls as though a whisper wouldn't travel the few feet of space between them. His chest heaves, small tufts of hair peaking through the now open buttons of his shirt, the once neat tie hanging loosely from his collar.

He barely looks at her the whole time. Even as he helps her out of the car, or guides her into the elevator, or pushes open her front door, bolting it behind them. She throws off the heels the moment she steps into the large living room, knocking an ornament sideways. Not even that gets his attention.

"Sunshine secured." He speaks into his wrist, a small undetectable microphone hidden in one of the cufflinks. Sunshine. She remembers it like yesterday, the first time he'd called her that. She'd stumbled into the kitchen after a late night, barely acknowledging the hulking man sat at the island. She remembers the exact moment his eyes met hers with that all consuming gaze and the slight quirk of his lips as he studied her from head to toe, then in that deep texas drawl, uttered morning sunshine.

She had quickly come to learn it was not as endearing as it seemed. Joel doesn't do endearing.

There's a growing urge to throw something, at a wall or at him is still undecided, so she crosses her arms across her chest instead. She calls out his name, though it falls on deaf ears, his nose buried in that stupid phone of his. She tries again, and again until throwing something doesn't seem like such a bad idea anymore. Finally, he grants her the privilege of his attention and she considers for a moment, if that's all she wanted. Not answers, just his acknowledgement. He raises an eyebrow, his nonchalance pushing her over the edge.

"What was that?" It comes out as a high pitched shout, rather than the calm and controlled manner she had hoped.

Once again, he quirks his brow saying nothing any everything . This doesn't concern you, or are you really that stupid?

"Joel, you just threw a drink on someone and dragged me out of a room filled with hundreds of people. You would think that warrants an explanation!"

He has the nerve to huff and shake his head, shoving the buzzing phone in his pocket and takes a step towards her.

"You want an explanation." He eyes her again, focusing on the slow curve of her dress. "There was a threat. I eliminated it."

She scoffs, "You were being a dick."

"I was doing my job."

"Oh that's what it was! Your little tantrum was you doing your job?" She's aware that she's now the one throwing a tantrum, not that she cares when he's acting so high and mighty, as though the status of his role outweighs her own peace of mind.

"Go to bed." His phone buzzes again, he ignores it. "It's been a long night and I have a bunch of shit to deal with."

"Are you being serious right now? You just humiliated me in front of everyone. Was carrying me down the steps really that necessary?" If she was itching to throw something a few minutes ago, she's desperate now. Maybe her shoe, right in his face.

"He would've done a lot worse Sunshine, now go to bed." For fucks sakes.

"No! Not until you tell me what is going on."

He sighs, pinching the small bump along the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes for a moment. He does this a lot, when he's trying not to yell at her or even better still, quit his job. He shoots her a pointed look.

"If you weren't so busy flirting with your little boyfriend, you would've noticed him slipping something in your drink." His words are met with a long silence, and the space between them seems to stret even further.

The dress feels tighter, and she wobbles a little, though this time she can't blame it on the shoes. She was wrong. He hasn't humiliated her in front of everyone, he'd done it in her own home.

"Unzip me." Her voice is clipped. She's not sure if she wants to scream or cry. Maybe both. He hesitates for a moment, but then he's there right behind her pulling the zip down so torturously slowly, the soft brush of his knuckles on her skin threatening her with a shiver. She almost hates herself for it.

He steps back, but she doesn't face him. The dress slides off easily, leaving her in barely anything not that she cares. She's already humiliated herself enough, what's another notch in the belt? She gathers up the crumpled fabric, wanting nothing more than to throw it in the bin, and walks down the hall pausing at her door. She turns to him. She refuses to let him have the last word, he doesn't deserve it, not tonight. With tears already threatening her voice and Joel's beyond sour mood she's not sure she cares much either. Making sure to look directly into his eyes, she bares herself, lets him see the hurt he has caused.

"Fuck you."

She makes sure the door slams behind her, leaving him alone in the dark.

[kedsandtubesocks]

erika congrats!!! both are such awesome things to celebrate and so cool they line up - I am so glad you’re here! 💖🎉 could I please send you a 🎮 for Joel + a Bodyguard AU? thank you so much for doing this! (And congrats, again!)

HI LOVELY J! Thank you so much sweet friend!! Omg pls 🥺 I’m the one so glad that our paths crossed! Getting to know you is such a true treat!!! 💘

🎮 - a fun mini adventure game for you!

& Bodyguard Joel… oh what a lovely AU to pick for him

He would be diligent, incredibly sharp, a terrifying bird of prey always by your side but an incredible soft comfort you don’t ever want to imagine a day without

He is your wonderful shadow

And the way he would be so firm keeping you close by his side and eventually in his arms as your own live breathing shield - he is yours the same way you believe you’ve become his

Thank you again my dear J and so grateful for you!! 💖

[psychedelic-ink]

Hi, Sil! 💗Hope you are doing great! For the writing challenge /ofc if you please🙌/ Bodyguard Joel x actress reader and forbidden romance -age difference/ also she’s his boss and this old grump doesn’t wanna be unprofessional. I’d never say no to some smut😏

love love love that you requested this, thank you lovey! 💗💗💗

𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒

pairing: bodyguard!joel miller x actress!reader

genre: bodyguard and actress AU + forbidden romance & age gap

word count: 866

summary: Joel is fed up with your bratty behavior.

warnings: age gap, unprofessional situations, dirty talking, thigh fucking, intercrural sex, explicit, bj, brat taming, sub/dom dynamics

He snapped. Simple as that. 

It’s been a busy day. He took you from one event to another, scanning his surrounding suspiciously every time you stopped to give someone an autograph. He was fully frustrated when you stopped for the tenth time, a fan this time wanting to take a picture. It didn’t help that you’d been teasing him all day. Purposefully leaning over to expose more of your skin, or when you were seated next to him, the way your hand lingered on his thigh. It’s been an ongoing game for months. He knew what you wanted. But he couldn’t give it to you. Not when you were much younger than he was, and especially not when you were his boss. 

But, of course, you had to be a little shit about it. Knocking on his hotel door at 2AM telling him that you were going to go to a party with Dieter Bravo—no way in hell would he let you go. Not when the man mentioned was nothing but bad news.

And nothing good ever happens after 2 AM. 

“Joeeel,” you whine underneath him. “Just fuck me already.” 

His cock throbs at the way your voice thins. He has both your hands pinned against your back, your vare chest flushed against his bed. You whine again and push back. His length hard and heavy as it slides between your thighs. He catches the way your breath hitches. His head spinning, he thrusts forward, your folds slick with need. 

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” he rasps, voice shaking. “You’re such a little brat, teasin’ me all day with your nonesense. The last thing you need is a reward.” 

Your cunt pulses and Joel groans at the heat. Precum dips from the head, throwing his head back, he grinds his hips. He doesn’t stop. Your moans and whines become louder, your body quaking underneath him. You look so small like this. The most famous actress in the world, at his mercy. Something hot and searing burns the inside of his stomach. With a sharp breath, he rolls his hips again, feeling the way you drip around him, your folds spread from his cock. 

“Take your punishment without makin’ a fuss and maybe I’ll reconsider,” he grunts, enjoying throughly at the way you wantonly moan at his words. 

Pushing back the thoughts that are screaming at him that this is a bad idea, Joel hammers into you. Your thighs are so fucking soft and wet from the way you’re soaking him. And after the day he’s had he’s more an ready to come between your legs and make even a bigger mess. 

“J-Joel,” you stammer. Joel grits his teeth, anger fueling his thrusts. He hammers into you, pressure coils tight in his stomach. You let out another moan, crying out his name. “P-Please kiss me—Please—I’m…I’m about to come—”

He’s the stupidest man on earth to think he could deny you of anything. 

Letting go of your wrists, Joel wraps an arm around you and pulls you up. He grips your chin and twists your neck enough so that he can reach your lips. Joel kisses you hungrily. He shoves his tongue between your lips and claims you as his own. 

Joel can feel your desperation in the way he kisses you. His roughness turns into a wild hunger that takes over his body. You want to pull away, to catch your breath, but you can't. His tongue is everywhere at once, tracing every inch of your mouth. 

Joel can feel your body tense, coiled tight like a spring ready to snap. He's close. And so are you. He can feel the pressure building, a knot forming in his stomach that's ready to burst. Before he does, he sucks on your bottom lip and pulls it between his teeth. You shudder against him, pretty pussy gushing and dripping down his lenght. You’re choking on his name, repeating it over and over. His head spins. 

Suddenly, he pulls away from you, leaving you gasping for air. "On your knees," he commands, his voice harsh and deep. You obey without question, dropping to the floor beside the bed. His cock twitches at your obedience. He stands above you, his cock jutting out hard and thick from his body. 

"Open your mouth," he growls. Words coming out of him without a second thought. You comply, taking him into your mouth. You suck him hard, deepthroating him as he grips your head tightly with btoh hands. He tenses up, his muscles clenching as he comes deep in your throat. His hot, bitter seed spills down your throat, and you swallow every drop, savoring the taste and the feeling of him pulsing against your tongue.

When the room finally stops swirling around him, he collapses down to the bed. You’re pliantly looking up at him, still between his legs, your pupils blown wide. His eyes linger at the drop of come sliding from the corner of your lip, he reaches out, catching it with his thumb, and pushes it back into your wet mouth. 

“Are you goin’ to be good from now on?” he asks with not much conviction. 

You don’t answer him, only smile. 

[e-ak]

reverse bodyguard!

ok. but why in every single bodyguard romance the man is the bodyguard?.like why cant the woman be the bodyguard.

like she could be a total black cat right, cool , calm, collected, best in her field. and he could be like the golden retriever, an actor or musician or something, easily flustered, that type of thing.

it would be so refreshing to read something like that. a strong female lead who can fight and is honestly a total badass, the casual flirting all of that stuff.

WHY! WHY NOT??!!?