#JoelMillerFanfic

[joelsrose]

Howdy Cowboy

I am crazy but I am free - I need to study but can’t stop writing for my pookies

No warnings just tension and teasing and !hotcowboyJoel, reader is in her early/mid 20sss

You sighed, giving yourself one last look in the mirror, running a hand down your sides, smoothing out the simple black mini dress that clung to your skin. Paired with a pair of old cowboy boots you’d dusted off from the back of your closet, the outfit wasn’t exactly your usual style. But tonight wasn’t about you—it was Sarah’s birthday, and she had been planning this cowboy-themed party for months, insisting on holding it at the local rodeo bar. She hadn’t stopped talking about riding the mechanical bull, her excitement practically contagious.

You couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face as you thought of Sarah—her curls bouncing, her eyes lighting up with excitement as she finally got her moment on the mechanical bull. But even with all that anticipation, it wasn’t what had your heart racing the most.

It was Joel.

The second his name crossed your mind, a wave of butterflies exploded in your stomach, making you feel both giddy and a little breathless. The theme was cowboy, which meant Joel would definitely be in something dangerously fitting. Your mind drifted—what if he wore those perfectly worn jeans that sat just right on his hips, a cowboy hat tipped low over those deep brown eyes of his, maybe even an old shirt clinging to his chest in that way that made you look twice?

You could almost picture it—Joel walking into the bar, the dim light hitting him just right, his easy smile and that slow, purposeful stride making your heart skip a beat. It made you feel like a teenager with a crush all over again, the kind that leaves you breathless and flushed, and completely unsure what to do with yourself.

The thought of seeing him tonight, in the soft glow of the bar lights, dressed like that—it made your pulse quicken.

•••

You felt a flutter of nerves as you stepped inside, the buzz of energy from the bar wrapping around you. The dim lighting cast a warm, golden hue over the rustic wooden beams, making the place feel both intimate and alive. For Sarah’s birthday, the bar had been completely transformed—twinkling string lights hanging from the ceiling, a sea of cowboy hats and boots filling the room like something straight out of her dreams. Laughter rang out from every corner, the soft twang of country music humming in the background, setting the perfect tone for the night. It was exactly the kind of celebration Sarah had always envisioned, and a quiet thrill of excitement stirred in your chest, knowing how much this moment meant to her.

Spotting Sarah wasn’t hard; she stood near the mechanical bull, already in full party mode. Her wild curls framed her glowing face, and she was dressed to perfection—a denim mini skirt, a fitted white top, and, of course, the pièce de résistance: a rhinestone-covered cowboy hat perched on her head, catching the light with every move. A Birthday Girl sash draped across her chest, sparkling just as brightly. You couldn’t help but chuckle and shake your head at how perfectly Sarah she looked—radiant, confident, and completely in her element.

“Hey!” Sarah squealed the moment she spotted you, throwing her arms around you in a hug that radiated pure excitement. "You made it!"

"Of course, wouldn’t miss it for the world," you grinned, pulling back to take in her outfit. “You look incredible, by the way.”

Sarah’s face lit up even more, and she gave a little twirl, the rhinestones on her hat sparkling with every movement. "Thanks! Feelin’ like a proper cowgirl tonight," she winked, her energy infectious. "Now, go get yourself a drink from the bar and hurry back��I’ve got big plans for us!" she teased, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

You turned to move towards the bar, and that’s when you saw him—leaning casually against the wooden counter, drink in hand, the rim of his cowboy hat casting just enough shadow to hide his dark eyes. Joel. The breath hitched in your throat as your gaze settled on him. He looked even better than you had imagined—broad shoulders filling out his worn, flannel shirt, the sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal his forearms, strong and lightly scarred from years of hard work, flexing subtly as he lifted the glass to his lips. His faded jeans hung low on his hips, the belt buckle glinting under the dim bar lights, and that damn cowboy hat perched perfectly on his head, tipping ever so slightly forward as he brought the glass to his lips.

Your heart skipped a beat, the world narrowing to just him in that instant. Most men would look ridiculous dressed like that, a caricature of what a cowboy should be. But Joel? The way he wore it, the way he owned the look, made you think all kinds of unholy things. You scolded yourself for how easily the blush crept up your cheeks, painting you crimson in a way only he knew how to. It was ridiculous how just the sight of him made you feel like a teenager again. You’d seen him countless times before, but tonight, bathed in the golden glow of string lights, with the brim of his hat casting shadows over his sharp features, Joel looked every bit the rugged cowboy from your wildest daydreams—strong, untamed, and lighting a fire deep inside you that you couldn’t ignore.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself as you made your way to the bar, your heart pounding a little faster with each step. Joel hadn’t spotted you yet, his focus seemingly on the drink in his hand, his body leaned casually against the counter as he spoke to the person beside him. The closer you got, the more the nerves started to build. You could practically feel the heat rolling off him. Pretending to study the drink menu hanging above the bar, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at Joel. His dark eyes, shaded beneath the brim of his cowboy hat, flicked up just as you turned your head, catching you mid-scan. His lips curled into that slow, knowing smile that always seemed to unravel you from the inside out, making your heart stutter in response.

“Well, look who finally decided to show up,” Joel teased, his voice smooth and warm, like honey dripping slow. Before you could even form a response, his arm wrapped around you, pulling you into a hug that was far more intimate than it should’ve been. The faint scent of whiskey on his breath mingled with the earthy tones of his cologne, the combination stirring something deep and unnameable inside you. His chest pressed against yours for a moment that stretched just a bit too long, his hand sliding gently across your back, the warmth of his touch both firm and tender. When he finally pulled away, his smirk—the one that always made your heart stutter—was firmly in place, his eyes twinkling with a kind of mischief that left you breathless.

Joel leaned in just a bit closer, the space between you shrinking as he tilted his head slightly, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Can I get you a drink?” he asked, his voice a smooth, lazy drawl that made the offer feel like the most natural thing in the world, like it was just the two of you, here and now.

You smiled, trying to steady yourself under his gaze. Your eyes flicked to the drink menu for a split second before meeting his again, the weight of his attention making it hard to focus. Biting your lip, you shrugged playfully. "Yeah, but I can't decide."

Joel tipped his head, taking a slow, deliberate sip of his whiskey, his eyes never straying from yours. “Can’t go wrong with whiskey,” he murmured, lifting his glass slightly, his deep drawl wrapping around you like velvet, warm and teasing.

You arched an eyebrow, mirroring his playful tone. “A little strong for me, don’t you think?”

His smile deepened, a hint of challenge flickering in his gaze. “You sure about that?” he asked, his voice dipping lower. “Thought you could handle a little heat.”

A blush crept up your neck, spreading across your cheeks, and suddenly your usual witty responses seemed to vanish. He was being forward tonight—really forward. This wasn’t like his usual stolen glances or the casual brushes of his hand. Joel Miller was flirting with you. And it wasn’t subtle.

“Wanna try?” he asked, his voice dipping lower, rich with mischief. His eyes flickered in a way that left no room for doubt, tracing your lips before he subconsciously licked his own. The gesture was slow, deliberate, and paired with the gleam in his gaze, it sent a shiver straight through you.

You hesitated for a second, but before you could answer, he was already lifting the glass to your lips. The smooth rim of the glass touched your mouth, and as you took a slow sip, your eyes locked with his, the world narrowing to just the two of you. The whiskey burned down your throat, a warmth spreading through your chest, but it was his gaze that made your breath hitch. Your head tilted back slightly as you swallowed, and he watched, his eyes darkening, intense and unwavering.

The moment stretched between you, the tension tightening like a wire pulled taut, neither of you breaking the connection. His gaze followed the movement of your throat, the subtle rise and fall as you drank, and when you lowered your head again, the air around you felt charged, heavy with everything unsaid.

A slow smile tugged at the corner of Joel’s lips, his eyes gleaming with something dangerous and teasing. He leaned in just a fraction, his voice dropping to a low, rough murmur that sent a shiver down your spine. “Good girl,” he drawled, the words soaked in heat, went straight to your core.

Your heart stuttered at the words, heat flooding your cheeks. The intensity in his gaze hadn’t lessened, if anything, it had deepened. He leaned just a fraction closer, the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin, his eyes slightly hooded as they took you in, tracing the curve of your lips and the flush on your cheeks.

You were overwhelmed, every hair on your body standing on end, your thoughts a hazy blur as you tried to figure out if the moment you were sharing with Joel was real or some kind of daydream. Joel had been bolder tonight, more direct, and it was almost too much. The weight of his touch, the intensity of his gaze—it all lingered, leaving your skin flushed and your pulse racing. You needed to break the tension, to say something before you completely lost your grip on reality.

“You know,” you began, a teasing smile curling at the corners of your lips, “I gotta say, you pull off the cowboy look better than I expected.” Your tone was light, playful, but the flutter of nerves in your stomach betrayed the weight of the moment still hanging between you.

Joel chuckled, the sound deep and rough, sending a ripple of warmth through you. His eyes flicked down to his boots and then back up, settling on you with a glint of mischief. “That so?” he drawled, raising an eyebrow as he leaned in just a bit closer, the space between you tightening. “And what exactly were you expectin’, huh? Me in my old t-shirt and worn-out jeans?”

You shrugged, biting your lip, trying to maintain your composure. “Maybe. It’s kinda your signature look, isn’t it?”

“It’s comfortable,” he replied with a casual shrug, his eyes glinting. “But sometimes you gotta switch it up. Thought I’d embrace the theme tonight.” He paused, his gaze lingering on you before flicking up to the top of your head. “Where’s your cowboy attire, anyway?”

You let out a soft laugh, rolling your eyes playfully. “Figured the boots were enough,” you said, glancing down at your feet. Joel's gaze followed, but his eyes didn’t stop there. They trailed slowly up the length of your bare legs, lingering for just a heartbeat longer than necessary before meeting yours again.

Joel clicked his tongue, shaking his head with mock disappointment. “Nah, you’re missin’ somethin’,” he teased, tilting his head slightly, his eyes scanning you with an exaggerated slowness, as if picturing you fully in theme. “Can’t go to a cowboy party without a cowboy hat. Gotta complete the look.”

Before you could respond, someone called his name from across the bar. Joel let out a quiet sigh, turning slightly to see who it was. The reluctance on his face was unmistakable, the easygoing warmth from moments ago fading just a bit as the interruption pulled him away from you. A flicker of disappointment crossed his expression, like he was just as unwilling to let go of the moment as you were.

He turned back to you, his eyes softening once more. “Looks like I gotta take care of somethin’ real quick,” he said, his voice laced with quiet reluctance.

For a brief second, neither of you moved, the air thick with unspoken words. Then, with a decisive nod, Joel reached up, pulling the cowboy hat from his own head. The brim caught the warm light, casting a shadow over his face as he held it in his hands.

“You’re missin’ this,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, rough around the edges in the way that always sent a thrill through you. Before you could even process what he was doing, Joel gently placed the hat on your head, tilting it just right with careful hands. His fingers brushed through your hair as he adjusted it.

You looked up at him, eyes wide, heart pounding in your chest. “Joel…” you started, unsure of what to say, but he wasn’t finished.

“Looks better on you anyway,” he added, his voice softer now, almost a whisper, as if he wasn’t just talking about the hat. His eyes held yours, dark and intense, a quiet promise lingering in the space between you. For a moment, everything around you—the noise, the laughter, the people—faded into the background. It was just the two of you, standing there in the dim light, the air thick with something unspoken.

Joel’s fingers lingered for a second longer, brushing against your cheek, before he pulled away. He gave you one last lingering look, his lips curving into a small, private smile as he stepped back.

“Don’t lose it, now,” he said with a wink, his voice carrying a hint of something playful, though there was a deeper meaning hidden beneath the words.

And just like that, he turned and walked away, his broad shoulders disappearing into the crowd, leaving you standing there with his cowboy hat resting on your head, your heart pounding and your thoughts a jumbled mess of everything that had just passed between you. The warmth of his presence still lingered, even though he was no longer standing beside you, and as you lifted a hand to touch the brim of the hat, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself.

•••

For the rest of the night, you tried to focus on the conversations swirling around you, laughing at the right moments, nodding along when someone spoke. But no matter how hard you tried, your thoughts kept drifting back to Joel. Every sip of the whiskey he’d left for you—a drink too bitter for your liking—became a reminder of him. The taste lingered on your lips, but not as much as the memory of his hands on your waist, the low murmur of his voice, the heat of his gaze.

But what made it impossible to forget was the way he kept finding you, catching your eye from across the room. Every time your gazes locked, it was as though the world around him faded—he'd stop mid-conversation, his attention drawn solely to you, as if no one else existed. His eyes would linger, dark and intense, leaving you breathless and yearning for the moments you had been closer.

His hair, now slightly tousled from where the hat had once sat, made him look even more rugged, and every time he looked at you, it was as though the air between you thickened. The party became a blur, the conversations blending into background noise, because the only thing that mattered was the way Joel would glance at you with that slow, deliberate look that made your heart race. He’d look at you like he was memorizing the sight, like he was already missing the moments when your paths would cross again.

Then, Sarah’s voice rang out, cutting through the hum of conversation and the twang of country music. She stood on a chair, her curls wild under the string lights, hands raised high as she grinned mischievously. “Alright, y’all, before we cut the cake, we’ve got one more thing to do,” she announced, her voice loud and full of excitement. “Who’s ready for the bull?”

With the energy buzzing in the air, Sarah bounded over to the bull. The crowd followed, gathering around as she made a show of adjusting her cowboy boots and tossing her hair over her shoulder with exaggerated flair. You couldn’t help but laugh as she flashed you a quick wink before climbing on. She threw one arm in the air dramatically, gripping the saddle with the other, and the crowd went wild.

The bull jerked to life, and Sarah let out an exaggerated "yee-haw!" that had everyone howling with laughter. She clung to the bull, her curls bouncing wildly as she tried to maintain her balance, her boots slipping in the stirrups. It didn’t take long—maybe ten seconds, if that—before she lost her grip and tumbled off, landing in a pile of giggles on the padded floor.

Amid the cheers and clapping, Sarah stood up, taking a playful bow as she caught her breath, her curls bouncing with the movement. Then, her eyes locked onto yours with a devilish glint. Her smile widened into a mischievous grin, and with one finger pointed directly at you, she shouted, “Your turn!”

You groaned internally, feeling the heat of all eyes on you. For a moment, you seriously contemplated making a break for it, envisioning a swift escape out the back door before anyone could push you toward the beast in front of you.

But before you could act on your plan, two strong hands found your waist from behind, steady and familiar.

“Come on, darlin’. You’re up,” Joel’s deep voice drawled near your ear. His hands were firm but gentle, guiding you toward the bull like you didn’t have a choice in the matter. And truthfully, with him so close, you weren’t sure you wanted one.

The crowd parted as Joel walked with you, his presence commanding as always. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the scent of whiskey and something earthier filling the space between you.

You stood beside the bull, feeling a little ridiculous but mostly nervous. Not because of the bull, but because of Joel—his hand still lingering on your waist, the heat of his fingers burning through the fabric of your dress. He leaned in, his lips dangerously close to your ear, the subtle brush of his chest against your back making your skin tingle with awareness. Joel leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice dropping low—dangerously low.

“Let’s see how well you ride,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear, each syllable laced with suggestion.

The innuendo hit you hard, making your stomach flip, heat pooling low in your belly and rush of blood rushing to your cheeks at the implication in his voice.

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, his hands tightened on your waist. With an effortless lift, Joel had you in the saddle, his strong grip making you feel weightless, completely under his control. The brush of his fingers as they left your hips was like fire, leaving you reeling, breathless, as you adjusted to your seat on the bull.

After Joel lifted you onto the bull, his fingers didn't pull away immediately. Instead, they lingered, resting on your bare thigh where your dress had ridden up just slightly. His rough fingertips began tracing slow, deliberate circles against your skin—small, hidden movements shielded by the way his body subtly blocked the view from anyone else around. It was an intimate touch, just for you, as if he was testing the waters, seeing how far he could push without a word.

His touch, though soft, was firm enough to make you dizzy, each little circle drawing you further into the heat of the moment, making it impossible to think about anything else but him.

Your breath caught, and when you glanced up, his eyes were already locked on yours, dark and intense, like he was daring you to react. His thumb lingered on your thigh for just a heartbeat longer, pressing slightly before he stepped back, leaving you breathless.

The bull’s leather seat was cool beneath you, its surface slightly worn and slick under your palms as you gripped the reins, trying to steady your racing heart.

As you settled onto the bull, you tried to focus on anything but the way Joel’s touch still seemed to burn on your skin.

Before you could prepare yourself, the machine beneath you jerked to life and the crowd around you erupted in cheers and laughter. But it all felt distant, as though you were caught in a bubble, the world slowing down.

You gripped the bull’s rope handle tightly, your knuckles white against the worn leather, trying to steady yourself as it bucked forward. The motion was rough, your body swaying with each unpredictable movement, the muscles in your legs straining to hold on.

Your dress rode up just a bit more with each buck of the bull, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw Joel still watching you, arms crossed, his gaze intense, unwavering. His lips quirked into that signature smirk of his, and it sent a thrill through you, making it even harder to concentrate on staying upright.

The bull bucked harder, throwing you back, and you squealed in surprise, laughter bubbling up in your chest. But even through the laughter, you felt the weight of his stare, the way his eyes traced every movement, every stumble, every sway. Your thighs burned from holding on - But the hardest thing wasn’t the bull—it was resisting the pull of Joel’s gaze, the weight of it still on you.

He hadn't moved an inch, standing just close enough for you to catch glimpses of him between the wild jerks of the bull. His dark eyes locked on you, unwavering, and every time your gaze met his, his lips curled into that slow, lazy grin that made your heart race. It was as if he knew exactly what he was doing to you, how his steady gaze ignited something inside you that made it even harder to concentrate. The thought alone made your stomach flip, a rush of heat flooding through you despite the cool night air.

With a playful grin of your own, you reached up, pulling the cowboy hat from your head and doing what you’d seen in every movie—swinging it in one hand as you tried to ride out the last few bucks. The crowd erupted in cheers and laughter, but all you could focus on was Joel’s reaction, the way his eyes darkened just a little more, that grin of his growing wider as he watched you, completely captivated.

The bull twisted sharply to one side, and your grip faltered. You let out a squeal, laughter bubbling up from your chest, but you could feel yourself slipping. Your body swayed dangerously, your dress hitching up even further, and just as you were about to fall, Joel stepped forward, his eyes flashing with something you couldn’t quite name.

With one final, hard buck, the bull sent you flying off, tumbling onto the padded mat below with a breathless gasp. The crowd erupted into laughter and cheers, but all you could hear was the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears and the sound of Joel’s low chuckle as he stepped closer, offering you his hand.

“You alright there, cowgirl?” he teased, his voice thick with amusement. His hand, strong and warm, wrapped around yours as he helped you to your feet, pulling you up with ease.

You laughed breathlessly, brushing off your dress, trying to regain some sense of composure as your heart raced for an entirely different reason now.

You grinned, still catching your breath from the ride, and before you could think twice, you teased, “I think I need more practice.”

Joel’s eyebrows shot up, clearly taken aback by the lack of subtlety in your voice. For once, you had surprised him. His gaze flickered with something that made your heart skip, but just as quickly, he composed himself, the corner of his mouth twitching into that familiar smirk.

“Well,” he drawled, his voice smooth and low, “maybe I can show you how it’s done sometime.”

Your pulse quickened, a dizzying rush of heat flooding through you at the boldness of his words. It took everything inside of you not to grab him by his flannel and close the distance between you right there and then. The intensity of the moment, the weight of everything unsaid, had your breath catching in your throat. His eyes never left yours, the smoldering desire in them making your heart race as if he was daring you to make the next move.

Before you could respond, Sarah called your name, waving from across the room. You turned, ready to head back to her, but stopped short, suddenly aware of the weight on your head.

Joel’s cowboy hat.

You reached up, ready to hand it back to him.

“Here, you should take this.”

But before you could take it off, Joel’s hand gently stopped you. His thumb brushed over your knuckles.

“Nah,” he murmured, his voice low and rich with meaning.

“Keep it… for our next lesson.”

Your breath hitched at the weight of his words, the promise wrapped in them, and before you could think of something witty to say, Joel gave you one last lingering look, his eyes glinting with something unspoken before he stepped back into the crowd.

As you turned back to Sarah, your heart was still racing, Joel’s hat resting snugly on your head, a promise of something more hanging in the air.

[pascalxp]

Somebody make another professor Joel Miller fanfic with this photo please!

[nypedra]

Guys there was a Joel miller fanfic but I cannot find dit cause forget name) it was about a girl who decides to became adult movie actress (p X Rn ) and Joel was the actor please helpme find it!

[shessweetsour]

I love making spicy edits but got discouraged when they kept getting taken down. This is my personal fave....

#pedropascaledit #pedropascalkinkedit #joelmillerfanfic #javierpen̈afanfic #oberynmartellfanfic #pedropascalfanfic #pedropascalfilth

The tag on the video is my insta handle. The tag at the end my clock app handle.

[joelsrose]

Roses & Rust

Previous chapter

Chapter 2: Between Shadows & Light

Summary: You follow Joel and Tess through the QZ, drawn to their unyielding strength and survival instincts. When you're caught by Joel during a tense exchange, you find yourself unexpectedly pulled into a dangerous mission, questioning what you've just gotten yourself into while trying to prove your worth.

Joel.

That was his name—the man who had saved you, though you hadn’t known it at the time. His name slipped into your hands like a secret passed through the wind, overheard on the lips of another, whispered by someone in the market. The name lingered in the air like a sharp breath held too long, and now it echoed in your thoughts like a soft, persistent hum, a reminder of the collision of your life with his. You lay on the thin mattress, staring at the cracked ceiling, the faint breeze slipping through the broken window, stirring the heavy air. Who was he? The question gnawed at the edges of your mind, growing sharper with each passing day. Why had he saved you?

From what you’d seen, Joel was a force of nature—moving through the world with a quiet, unrelenting intensity that made people instinctively step aside. His demeanor was hard, impenetrable, as though he never spared anyone more than a passing glance, like nothing could reach him. He seemed to carry the weight of something heavy, yet refused to let it show. And yet, despite that, he had saved you. As the flickering candlelight cast soft shadows across the room, your thoughts drifted to him—those deep lines etched into his forehead, the way sweat gathered on his brow after a day’s labor, and his lips, which you had never once seen curve into a smile.

You told yourself it wasn’t disappointment that ate at you after the failure of your deal. You had tried, and you had failed. And it didn’t take long to realize that, no matter how much you fought, survival alone was a battle already lost. The world was too vast, too cruel. People like Joel and Tess—they survived because they didn’t hesitate. They moved with purpose, their resolve unshaken. You had been alone for so long, learning to rely on only yourself. It had become second nature. But after that night, after seeing them, you couldn’t deny the truth that lingered in the quiet corners of your mind: you needed them. Needing them felt like a betrayal, a weakness exposed after eight years of solitary survival. Yet, it was unavoidable.

So, you followed them.

At first, it was subtle. You kept your distance, always watching from crumbling alleyways or behind half-destroyed walls as they moved through the QZ. Joel and Tess were always together, their steps synchronized in a way that spoke of years of understanding.

Joel’s presence was magnetic, like the calm before a storm—a quiet intensity that drew everything in without needing to make a sound. He moved through the chaos of the QZ with an effortless confidence, each step deliberate, his gaze sharp and unyielding. His arms often folded across his chest, as if guarding something buried deep within, while the silver threads in his hair would catch the light in fleeting moments, softening his hardened edges. There was a gravity to him, an unspoken weight that made people part in his wake, as if they understood he was someone you didn’t challenge. Beside him, Tess was his counterbalance—sharp where he was silent, commanding in the way only someone who had seen the worst of the world could be. Her eyes, always keen, seemed to strip the world bare with a glance, bending it to her will without the need for words. Together, they were an unspoken force—two sides of the same coin, moving in unison as if the world itself couldn’t touch them.

You, on the other hand, were a whisper—a silent presence, unnoticed.

They never saw you. Days turned into weeks, and you grew more daring, trailing them deeper into the black market. You watched their every move as though they held the key to your survival. You waited for the moment when you could prove yourself, to step out from the shadows and show that you could be part of their world.

That moment came sooner than you expected.

It was an ordinary evening, the sun sinking low, casting long shadows across the streets as curfew tightened its grip on the QZ. You followed them, close enough to hear the faint murmur of their conversation, yet always far enough to remain unseen. You watched Joel, how his presence seemed to guide Tess through the streets, a protective force that lingered beside her, even in silence.

They led you into an old, abandoned building, the air inside thick with dust and the scent of decay. You moved carefully, your steps light, but the streets outside could not fully mask the faint scuff of your foot against the cracked floor. It was in that instant that you saw them—Joel, Tess, and a small group, huddled in the dim light of the building. Tension clung to the air. This wasn’t an ordinary smuggling deal. Something was wrong.

Tess’s voice was low and urgent, speaking to a woman you didn’t recognize—her face pale, skin clammy with sweat as she pressed a trembling hand against a wound, blood seeping through her fingers. Standing nearby was a girl, no more than fourteen, her arms crossed, eyes filled with both fear and defiance.

Your pulse quickened. This wasn’t just another smuggling deal. Something was wrong. And you definitely shouldn’t be here.

You took a step back, intending to disappear before anyone noticed your presence, but the sound of your shoe scraping against the rough floor echoed like a gunshot in the oppressive quiet. You froze, dread curling around your chest.

Joel’s head snapped toward you, years of survival sharpening his instincts as his eyes narrowed, scanning the darkness with lethal precision.

“Come out,” his voice commanded, low, edged with something dark and unyielding.

Your heart thundered in your chest. You hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward, hands trembling by your sides. You felt exposed, like a child caught spying on something forbidden, the weight of embarrassment heavy on your shoulders. When you emerged from the shadows, your breath caught in your throat—Joel was pointing a gun at you, his expression unreadable.

There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes, brief and fleeting, before they hardened, dark and sharp, pinning you in place as if daring you to make the wrong move. Your heart raced, your breath catching in your throat as the weight of the moment pressed down on you. But even through the fear—through the threat of the gun trained on you—you couldn’t help but notice him.

He was a man built of rough edges and unspoken sorrow. The strong line of his jaw and the sharp angles of his face, framed in that fleeting light, left you breathless in a way you couldn’t explain. He was handsome in the way of broken things—handsome without softness, without intention, as if the world had shaped him out of its wreckage and forgotten to smooth the edges.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” His voice, thick with a southern drawl, was laced with frustration that bordered on anger. His dark, unblinking eyes weighed you down with suspicion, pulling you abruptly from the trance you hadn’t realized you’d fallen into. A flush crept up your cheeks, the warmth of embarrassment mixing with the intensity of his gaze.

Your throat was dry, the words stuck somewhere between your mind and your lips. You tried to speak, but nothing came out. Swallowing hard, you grimaced at your own silence. Great. He probably thinks I’m mute, you thought, a grim sense of irony creeping in. This was the second time you’d been struck speechless in his presence, as if the weight of his gaze alone had the power to steal your voice.

Before the moment could stretch further, Tess’s voice sliced through the tension like a knife.

“Wait,” Tess said, stepping between you and Joel, her sharp gaze flicking between the two of you before recognition dawned in her eyes. “I know her. She’s the doctor from the QZ.”

Your heart skipped a beat. How did Tess know you? You had worked in the infirmary for extra rations, but you had kept your head down, trying not to draw attention. Yet, Tess knew. Of course she did. Tess always knew.

Joel’s gun remained raised, though his eyes shifted to Tess, waiting for an explanation. Tess’s expression softened slightly as she gestured toward you.

“She might be able to help,” Tess said, nodding toward the woman slumped against the wall. “We need her.”

Need me for what? The question echoed in your mind, but you stayed silent, your heart pounding as the gravity of the situation settled over you.

A scoff echoed from the young girl standing nearby, her eyes rolling with exaggerated annoyance. “Another one? What is this, ‘Take Your Random Stranger to Work Day’?”

Joel shot her a sharp look, his voice hard. “Quiet.”

The girl huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Just trying to lighten the mood.”

Joel’s gaze returned to you, the gun still in his hand, though now lowered. His eyes searched your face, as if weighing how much of a threat you posed, or whether you were worth trusting. The tension in his jaw didn’t ease, but after a moment, he nodded. Barely.

“Fine,” he muttered, though he spared you only the briefest glance before turning his attention back to the situation at hand. His mind seemed elsewhere, as if, like you, he had found himself in a moment far bigger than he had anticipated.

You exhaled shakily, realizing only now how tightly you’d been holding your breath throughout the entire encounter. Tess gestured for you to come forward.

“That’s Marlene,” Tess murmured, her voice softer now as she motioned toward the woman slumped against the wall, her breath labored and shallow. “Shot by FEDRA.”

Your eyes widened as the severity of the wound hit you. The blood seeped through her fingers like a slow, inevitable surrender, too much for her to survive without immediate care. Every instinct in you flickered to life, pushing aside the fear as you dropped to your knees beside her. Your hands moved swiftly, tearing a strip of cloth to fashion a makeshift bandage. As you pressed it firmly against the wound to stem the bleeding, your mind raced, piecing together the gravity of the situation unraveling before you.

Above you, their conversation continued, a low, urgent hum that seemed to thrum through the air—Joel, Tess, and Marlene whispering in hushed tones about transport, the girl, and something far more dangerous than you’d realized. Plans were forming, intricate and desperate, and you were now in the thick of it.

“We can’t move her like this,” Tess said, her gaze flickering to Marlene with a grim finality. “She won’t make it.” She paused for a moment before adding, her tone steady, “We need to get the girl out of here. And we need her,” Tess said, nodding in your direction. “Medical skills might be the only thing that keeps us alive.”

Joel’s eyes shifted to you again, lingering with a skepticism that felt like a blade at your throat. He didn’t need to say a word for you to feel the weight of his mistrust; it was written in the hard line of his gaze. The sharpness in his eyes pinned you in place, silently assessing your worth, your potential threat, and whether you were just another burden to carry. But Tess’s word seemed to hold weight with him. He trusted her, and for now, that was enough.

After what felt like an eternity, Joel gave a terse nod, though his expression remained unyielding, and his gaze barely flickered in your direction. His mind seemed elsewhere—perhaps racing just like yours, caught in the sudden tangle of choices and consequences.

Your breath came in shallow bursts as you pressed harder against Marlene’s wound, the tremor in your hands betraying the fear you fought to suppress. The air thickened with the weight of what was unfolding around you, a moment too vast, too unpredictable to fully comprehend.

What the hell had you just gotten yourself into?