Brother The DEVOTION, The Quest To Gain Her Favor Like His Life Depends On It? I'll Take 50. Their Meeting,

Brother the DEVOTION, the quest to gain her favor like his life depends on it? I'll take 50. Their meeting, the way you wrote it, was so much better than I was imagining. I looooove his anguish to the thought she only likes him a fraction of what he feels for her, my chest hurts and it will kill me, but I love every second.

covetous

a/n: Jesus Maggie, you really called me out on my bullshit for this one. Originally I want this story to just be a bunch of sexy encounters in a morally questionable world, now we're talking about feelings and love and how the hell did we get here? (This is how I would imagine him the first time he sees his Girl) Please enjoy this un-beta'd, barely edited request. All mistake and errors are mine! please enjoy

Warnings; 18+ no minors, Marcus pov, vague but big-legal age gap, there's no actual sex, but memories of it, vulgar yet romantic musings, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance) he’s still pretty possessive, Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus - let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 1.1k (😅)

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist series masterlist

War is easy. It’s a language he’s fluent in, something he excels in. He is blessed enough to have survived more battles that he could count and has been more than rewarded for his prowess. Battle plans, marches and military strategy are almost second nature, the fury, the heat of battle, all that he can anticipate and it’s probably the main reason he’s come this far in his life. 

Soldiers, camp life and brutality, those things are easy for him to understand.

Other matters, love, affection, attraction; these things are…harder. 

Physically, he’s perfectly adequate. He's never been ignorant to his looks, or his build. He knows that he fills the societal ideal for a man. He’s broad, he’s strong, he has a good face and no physical flaws.

He’s never been short of attention from the fairer sex either but that doesn’t mean anything as far as he’s concerned. He’s had his trysts, and he thinks he might have even been in love before but his luck seems to stop, and stay within his vocation. 

In his younger days, he’d broken his fair share of hearts, he’d been gifted the virtue of many a virgin in hopes of tempting him into a marriage. None of them had held his attention for more than that one night, and sometimes, in the late hours wherever he found his rest he secretly feared the Gods might be punishing him. Withholding the partner he hopes to find as payment for those broken hearts left in his wake. 

As he grew older, wiser and more practical he learned to ignore that little emptiness. He saw it more as a blessing. Would he be where he was now with a woman waiting for him? Would he have hit his station with children bearing his name pulling at his thoughts in the middle of battle? Perhaps the Gods had simply made a trade. His life, or his heart. 

He’d been content with his lot in life, until he’d seen her. 

She’d served at a gathering he’d been loath to attend. His eyes tracked her, the shine of her hair, the curve of her hip, her pretty smile. Her eyes had locked with his for half a heartbeat and he’d felt it in his belly. A rolling, like waves in a stormy ocean. 

She’d gone about her business, efficiently fulfilling her duties while the guests all spoke animatedly around him. He’d joined in after reigning in his reaction, but she’d taken every ounce of his attention with her. 

He’d negotiated her purchase the next day. 

-

She was quick. She learned everything faster than a lot of the others in his service, and she seemed to anticipate his needs before he spoke them. Most of the time, he barely needed to say anything at all, and so he kept quiet. Kept his thoughts, and his feelings to himself. 

His biggest need though, was her. He wanted her bad enough to hurt, to ache.

He was well aware of the practices in other houses. Slaves were there to obey, and in most houses that meant obeying with work, and with their bodies. He saw no issue in this, it was the way of the world. No matter how badly he wanted her though, he couldn’t make himself order her to spread her legs for him. Maybe it was a foolish, childish thing but he wanted her to crave it just as he did. He wanted her wet, he wanted her begging for him, he wanted to see pleasure and lust on her pretty face. 

He wanted her to want him. 

A year passed, and every second in her presence was exquisite torture. A torture he submitted himself to freely and with a perverse pleasure. It was a test of endurance, until the fateful night she’d come to him with her wet tunic, all of her body on display through the sheer fabric. The shadow of her cunt had sent him into a frenzy and when she’d come back and caught him fucking his fist he’d thought it was just another form of punishment. 

It was that look on her face though, that heavy lidded, open mouthed way she stared at him, nipples hardening that had finally made him crack. 

That first night he’d taken her, he’d stayed up in his bed, almost blinded with want. Her body had not alleviated the craving for her, if anything, it’d only made it worse. He’d replayed their encounter over and over, obsessed with the taste of her on his fingers, obsessed with the feel of her lips on his. From then on, she’d only cemented her hold on him. Her quiet obedience, her subtle seduction, the way she’d managed to scrape the shape of herself onto his brain.

She’d made herself the figurehead in his mind, the holy place at which he prayed, the Goddess he served. If he could, he’d light a thousand candles at the altar of her cunt, and pray to them daily.

He fought harder to return to her, he took note of her wants, of her preferences, and made sure to cater to her, despite no one in the house, not even her realizing. He dismissed the younger boys that lusted after her, he was covetous of her to the point of violence. A small smile from her could dictate his mood. The thought of her in pain made him feel like some feral wolf caught in a trap, ready and willing to chew part of himself away to reach her. 

Sometimes, after he’d spilled inside her, he’d let her fall asleep in his bed and relish the way she clung to him in her sleep. It was a double edged sword though, their stations in this life. A part of him fears that her want is only an act, a way to endear herself to him, her Dominus. A foundation to earn her freedom, or coin, or influence through him but then he sees the shy way she smiles at him and his fears are silenced to nothing. 

She cannot fake the way she flutters around his cock, she cannot pretend to feel nothing, not when he sees the same jealousy he feels shining through her eyes at the mention of the mostly political proposals he’s denied. The things she says, the way she takes her pleasure from him, all of these things only compound his delusions that just maybe, she feels for him a fraction of what he feels for her. 

It’s a sort of madness, truly, how that part of him that was the perpetual soldier had in so many respects switched their roles, had given her a control–a power he was sure she didn’t realize she had. 

He was sick with want for her, ravenous, and yet unable to soften himself in a way that would make her see the truth, make her see just how much she truly meant to him. He couldn’t make himself show her, that whatever she asked of him, he’d do with a smile.

For now at least. 

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Loved it. Needed it. I need a nap now and maybe to call off of work because WOW I'm gonna be thinking about him for the rest of the night

Ripe

Pairing: dbf!werewolf!Joel Miller x fem!afab!reader

wc: 7.5k

Rating: 18+

A/n: It felt fitting now that October has started

Summary: You are a young journalist standing on her last leg, being given an ultimatum to finally cement your career or lose your job entirely. In a desperate attempt to salvage your fraying career, you look into the small town of Jackson and the cryptic folklore orbiting around it. A friend of your fathers is kind enough to provide you shelter for your stay, though you soon discovered the very thing you sought after was right underneath your nose.

Content Warnings: 18+ MDNI werewolf!Joel, dubcon, knotting, breeding kink, age gap relationship, obsessive attachment, pure nasty dom!Joel, unprotected piv, cream pie, squirting, mating press, mentions of the cervix and womb bc we crazy in here

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Thud

Your surroundings jolt, clanking as you hit another pothole, the impact wrenching another weary sigh out of you. A harsh drift grazes your face, like a dead, cruel lovers touch, as the piercing cold air from the outside, whistles through your cracked car window. It’s patched, haphazardly with tape— though your small silvery Prius has certainly seen better days, much like yourself.

It’s still dark outside, the silvery beams of the moon making the polish of your car shine, as well as casting a guiding light on the poorly patched road before you.

Your thoughts are pulled back to your current predicament.

When you started out as a journalist, it felt like the company wanted run a test on you: How fast can we crush a small-town girl's dream?

The results: Way too fast.

Running around serving coffee, when your fingers twitched for a keyboard. Getting copies, providing unpaid eye candy to all the elderly men, who definitely shouldn’t be writing news for the general public, when your ears yearned for the click of a camera. The blinding harsh light of a flash. Anything like what you dreamt of prior. Not this— the leering gazes of men twice your age, the burnt fingers from the sputtering coffee machine.

Soon it came to a head, and you instigated— against your boss’ firm instructions— an investigation of your own. Disguising the article as one written by, some made up guy, and boom. Your article turned out to be the most compelling writing, any of these big city folks have laid their eyes on in a long time, it was a hit.

Of course, it soon came out who the mystery genius had been, as your boss raked in the revenue, wanting to meet this mystery talent to bleed it dry for all it was worth.

Despite the numbers it made you had prepared yourself for the harsh cruel coldness, that would be your reality: getting fired, only to be left severely stunted when your boss almost begged you to write more.

Following that, you’ve had a few smaller, but not less popular, hit headlines. Always the front Page, always earning a good amount of Feedback. Soon though the fact that you were not earning an official journalists wage, on an official journalist work pile, weight on you. Quickly leading you into a burnout, making you halt your continued work.

The stopping cash flow, made your boss present you with an ultimatum, another big hitter to become an official Journalist or be thrown out, completely.

Nights you planned the forsaken man's murder, cursing him for making your dream job into a nightmare.

In your mental and physical distress, you did not know who else to turn to, leaving you pleading and sobbing as you called your father, hoping he’d have an inkling on how you could proceed.

Leading you to right where you are now, the worn cushion of your trusty cars seat beneath you. A steady grip on the wheel, as the farm land scenery drifted by you. On your way to the small village known as Jackson based in Mississippi, with its lengthy history of cryptid sightings, attacks and disappearances galore.

At first you wanted to question your father, taking the suggestion as a cruel joke at your desperations expense.

Though as he told you of his childhood growing up in Jackson, alongside his friend Joel— the sincerity in his voice awoke that glint within you. A burning, itching need to learn more, to find and uncover truths yet to emerge.

The change of scenery was another pro, as it might help you gain a new perspective, as well as grant you a make-shift vacation.

So, you agreed, your father arranging for you to stay with Joel for two weeks, at his small cabin, not too far from the town itself.

You’ve scoured your mind, trying to catch a glimpse of any memory you might have regarding Joel. Only ending up with faded images, and the feeling of a warm, calloused hand clasping on your shoulder. Though you do not remember much of him you’re certain you’ve seen him last when you were in your late teens, with you now going on twenty-two.

Your eyes keep following the steep road, if you can call it that, until a junction appears, one of the paths leading straight forward into the town and the other— right, further into the forest clustered with intimidating pine trees and littered with a badly patched road.

Signaling right, you shot a brief glance behind you, as you turned down the dark, twisted road, taking you deeper into the woods.

Not soon after the sun starts properly rising, just as you pull up into the forefront of the small cabin. It’s rustic, standing on ramshackle wooden columns, raising the structure a bit above the ground with a clambering yet charming exterior.

To the left is a shed, a small threaded path leading up to it, before it a chopping block, axe plunged into its core, making you wonder how the block itself isn’t split like the logs, riddled next to it.

You’re torn from your thoughts when you hear quick heavy steps on the gravel surrounding the right front of the cabin. A gruff tall man, with broad shoulders, a brown mop of hair with greying ends fraying at his nape, donning a white shirt, stretching across his torso with a few spots sticking to his damp skin, comes barreling down the path next to the small shed, a stack of logs underneath his broad, glove clad arms.

“Is that you darlin’?” his voice breaks through the dewy morning air, a puff of white leaving his chapped lips as he, now, stands before you.

“Yeah, Joel it’s me.” is all your able to press out, at a loss for breath, his gruff exterior, and the silver lining both his mane and beard, making your stomach twist in enticing ways.

You don’t remember him being this… attractive.

But then again you don’t remember him much at all, plus you’ve last seen him when you were about sixteen!

“Eh, you’ve arrived in one piece, your pa’ was quite sure you’d stumble into trouble” he sets down the firewood next to the stump, his arms crossing before his broad chest, showing of his tanned dewy forearms.

A frown dawns on your face “What— why’s that?”

Joel raises an eyebrow, his gaze drifting behind you too— your car.

You turn your head, scrunching you nose up.

The boxy vehicle, standing there looked rundown and now that you see it standing on its own surrounded by nature, you’re surprise yourself she’s come this far. The splintering window, the cracked paint job, it was a mess.

“Now now, she’s got me all the way out here didn’t she?” You chuckle back, a teasing grin lifting your lips.

“I didn’t say nothin’ , t’was your daddy that was doubting your car wreck would withstand the road” he raises his arms in mock defense, the fabric shifting over his damp skin.

“What are you doing out here?” You inquire, mirroring his stance, you hip jutting out— his gaze being momentarily drawn to it.

“Wood don’t chop itself doll, the next two weeks you’ll come to realize, just how soft that big city made ya” he teases, his grouchy stoic features shifting into a sly smirk, as his eyes twinkle mischievously

You huff aloud, gazing over his get up, your eyes landing on the hat adorning his head.

“What you gon’ turn me into the hootin’ house wife, I’m meant to be” you mirror his Texan drawl

A rough dry huff, that you suspect is his version of a chuckle, expels from his shapely lips.

“I’m not some hillbilly, you are an independent young woman, making your way into the big leagues. Even a geezer like me can respect that”

A surprised but pleasant smile grazes your face, knowing that you’re not about to spent the weeks with someone you used to perceive as cool who, when you grow up, turns out to be a misogynist asshole.

Raising your hands you motion to his form. “Why don’t we go in! You must be freezing”

“Oh right, got any luggage that need takin care of?” Joel gives you no time to answer, having already taken bold strides towards your car.

“Right in the back”

“Alright sugar, you go on up, your room is up the stairs on the left” he calls back

At his behest you breach the creaky steps up to the cabin, it’s got a nice small veranda, a steaming mug propped atop a small table. Catching a small glimpse of the paper Joel read before you’ve arrived, it’s your first feature.

The one that earned you your place here.

A small warmth creeps into your face, he’s been reading your material.

Shaking your head free of potential embarrassment and something warm in your gut, you continue your journey into the cabin.

Inside it’s strangely spacious, and even stranger: decorated with intent. Though there are a few things like, hunting knives scattered around the dining table, or carved wood and its shavings permeating the carpet clad floor.

A warm flame, crackles within a stone built fireplace near a worn leather couch, clustered with various pillows and furs.

It’s cozy you note, your eyes drifting to the stairs leading up. The wood creaks underneath you as your feet carry you up the creaky steps.

The door on the left, Joel had said. So, as you stand before it you turn the knob.

It’s— cozy, a bit dingy but the bed is freshly made with a variety of blankets and furs at the feet of it. The window is cracked open, the smell of pines and fresh morning dew wafting into the space. A warm salt stone lamp stands on your nightstand with a small wrapped gift.

A gift?

Your feet carry you across the floorboards as you take the item into your palms. The wrapping is warm and soft almost like a fabric, but it’s undoubtedly paper.

“Oh I see you’ve found it” The deep timbre of Joel’s voice comes from the door way

Your gaze meets his own steady eyes

“What is it?” A small smirk carves his features as he makes a hand motion for you to open it

You gently take apart the wrapping finding a small box inside, you shot your host another look, one he respond to with a firm nod.

Your fingers pry open the box, finding a small necklace inside, its strings are made of thin, yet sturdy leather. A charm attached to the string, a wolves head, then it hits you— the necklaces smells of sandalwood.

A soft yet, herby smell drifting up to your nostrils.

“Is that sandalwood?”

“Correct, it’ll keep you save round here. Some of the wildlife despise the smell of it. So make sure to wear it” he says the words carefully, your head nodding along with his explanation as your gaze drifts back and forth from him to the necklace.

“I’m still amazed, by how much you’ve grown” he juts in, his rough gaze taking in your form

A shyness settling into you, as you recall not remembering much of him yourself.

“Yeah, it has been a long while since I’ve been out here too”

“Did you make it?” You mutter, hanging the subject back to the present.

“Yes” Joel confirms, his gaze now on the window

“Thank you, it’s lovely” you immediately swing the jewelry over your head, eyeing it as it falls perfectly into place above your cleavage.

Then Joel shifts, his weight making the floorboards creak.

“Now, here are your things, why don’t you take a bit to settle in. We’ll eat breakfast in a bit and later we’ll go into town so I can do some shopping— it would be a good time for ya to do yer investigatin’”

You can’t hold back the beaming grin lifting the corners of your mouth as you nod with enthusiasm, gaining a small crinkle around his almond colored eyes. Before his form moves out the room, closing the door.

And you’re alone with your thoughts again. A smell sensation of dread builds up within you, the gravity of your stay here, having unchangeable consequences on your future at the Herald, you brain is littered with the thoughts of failing, not making it. All the pressure of making a big hit article for your greedy boss, only to keep him and his sinking boat of sexist losers afloat.

A choked back sob leaves you, the pressure bearing down on you, who only wished for a chance, a little shot at becoming the journalist she’s always wanted to be. Writing compelling stories yet foretold, of and for women, culture and history, not any more of the boring gossip slop that already litters the papers.

Determination burst through you, renewed passion bubbling in your chest as you smile at the memories of the people, you’ve helped with your writing. Grateful to have read a story that made them feel fulfilled.

Idly your fingers drift up to your collarbone, the tips finding the pendant.

You clasp your hand around the warm wood, feeling its ridges and dips, as a gratefulness settles into your, previously ridged bones, grateful to be here now, having still this opportunity to prove yourself.

Grateful that Joel is already such a firm, steady presence, one you hope you’ll be able to lean on.

Joel soon calls you down to eat breakfast, not having had a proper meal yet himself.

"Y'gotta eat more, you're looking awfully pale" he counters, when you try to refuse another helping of scrambled eggs

"Yeah, I guess the burnout really did a number on me.." you reminisce, Joels brown eyes mirroring your own sorrow as his brows nit tight.

"T'was that boss of yours who pushed you huh?" your eyes widen, Joel giving a curt huff, his jaw tightening

"Your.. father told me, ya really need to stand up for yourself" he elaborates, his eyes cautiously shifting over your face

"But I couldn't risk this position.... it was a spot at the paper I've been meaning to be part of since I've been tiny"

"Yeah, runnin' around pretending me and your Pa were evil monsters who wanted to catch you" Joel coos at you, a small smile present on his face, as he nurses his cup of coffee.

You face grows warm and you give a scoff

"Well, you at the very least still pass as a gruff evil monster with that frown carved onto your face" you tease him, the permanent crease on his forehead deepening as he gives you a mocking glare

Letting out an offended huff though, there's a slight quirk to the corners of his mouth, when he sees you laugh at his accepting silence.

Later on, Joel drives the two of you into town with his jeep. There you get to know his brother, Tommy whom you’ve completely forgotten, in your haze to even recall Joel himself.

He runs a shop there, owned by an elderly lady whose given him the workload she’s too frail to bare.

“My my you’ve grown all up into a shining star haven’t ya?” Tommy smiles, playfully pinching your cheek

“Well I suppose so”

“Quite the time Joel has invited you over…” he muses “it’s curious I must admit”

Your eyebrow furrows as you shot the mentioned man a questioning look. Not able to gouge anything from his usually resting bitch face.

“Well it was kind of more of a hurried thing on my part” you offer

A creak from the corner making you look behind you, as Miss Perkins — the owner of the shop— studies you.

“Curious indeed, with the harvest coming on”

She says solemnly, her focus back on her book, nestling herself back into the fur clad rocking chair, she’s perched on.

“You certainly are quite the looker aren’t you dearie?” Miss Perkins adds on, her gaze back on you, her book now upon her thighs.

Your cheeks grow warmth and you give her a smile. “I could say the same for yourself Miss Perkins”

She scoffs in a playful manner, her own cheeks a bit darker now in contrast to the rest of her dark skin.

“You are terrible dearie. Now a lady with a business like myself know that as a strong woman a helping hand can help”

A pit forms in your stomach, as you know what’s to come. It’s granny codex probably to ask younger folk about their love lives.

“Is there someone waiting for you back in the city?”

Joel’s broad presence next to you huffs out a tinge of air as he and Tommy decide to take this as their cue to stock Joel up on supplies.

A bit helpless but not able to really blame them you stand there exposed before the old ladies, droopy but sharp as ever eyes.

“Well, there hasn’t been someone for a while— my career was my main pursuit” you explain

Your eyes drifting over your shoulder to the pair of men, that have abandoned you.

“Well, Miss Perkins I’d rather talk about the occurrences around here” you step forward, pulling your trusty notebook out of your jacket.

She tsks but retaliates, musing at the fringe of her cardigan.

“Well dearie I think there’s much to cover, how about we step into the back for a bit”

You turn to Joel and Tommy, waving your hand at him.

Joel’s head perks up, eyeing you as you motion to the back door of the shop. He gives a solemn nod his eyes lingering a tad longer than necessary on you before turning back to Tommy.

The back room is filled to the ceiling with boxes and crates with cans. Though there is a small corner in the back with two worn arm chairs around a small coffee table. This room no doubt functions as a warehouse as well as break room.

You help Miss Perkins into her own seat, her wild coiling hair bouncing as she lets herself fall into the armchair.

You find your own seat, your pen and notebook ready at hand.

“Now dearie, there is much to discuss. I’ve been trying to get papers to talk about the disappearances and sightings before but ohh—“ she grasps her wrist a distant look on her face, the crinkles she earlier displayed now faded as has her smile.

“Who listens to an old hag boast about moth-men and werewolf’s” your head snaps from your notebook to her face studying her expression

“Werewolves?” You quip

“Oh yes, those are the most present here” she muses

“How so?” You inquire, your eyes drifting to her neck, a necklace adorning her much like your own. Just without the carvings, hers being a simple circle with a seemingly branded on wolf head, on the front.

“The hunting folk often find clumps of unusual fur on their expeditions. Then there are just sightings, on top of the howling— though the area is known to house a good few wolf packs.” Your own scratches across the paper as you take note of the mentioned details, your eyes drifting back to the necklace again and again.

“Sorry to interrupt Miss Perkins but I can’t help but wonder where you got that necklace” You state, an opening smile forming on your face

Her eyes widen a tinge, she looks down taking the pendant in hand, turning it over in her lithe hands.

“Well, dearie it was a considerate gift from my dear Tommy” she replies a smile painting her lips

“That’s lovely, it’s a beautiful piece”

“Yes it quite is. He’s quite the artist that Tommy” she eyes your own neckline

“Not much unlike his brother I suspect” she gives a knowing smile, though Nathan’s more knowing than even you are.

“Yeah it’s quite lovely”

You two continue your banter, you get a few heaps of potentially useful information out of her before you two go back into the store.

“Before you leave” Miss Perkins stands, wobbly a bit with you reaching, though she catches herself and walks over to a cupboard, an array of books inside it.

She lets her forefinger brush over the spine of the books until she falls upon one clad in a dark faded red tone. The book is pushed into your palms by her, the leathery bound book feeling warm and heavy in your hands as you turn in over.

“It’s a bit more about this town, my dear husband was infatuated with the history of our own cryptids. You might find it more useful than I do”

A shocked look paints your face, trying to give the book back to her though she shakes her head.

“I couldn’t possibly—“

“I insist, dearie. Here it’ll just catch dust, I know it back to back by now”

You give a grateful smile, a small gasp leaving you as she pulls you into an unexpected embrace.

“You got what you needed?” Joel’s voice breaks you both out of your thoughts, his head peeking into the back.

You and Miss Perkins pull back making your way to him, back into the rustic shop.

“Quite” you answer, leather-bound book already stowed into your jacket.

He gives a gruff nod and hum of approval, a crate in hand with various food items as well as some rope and what looks to be a lot of herbs.

“Wow you planning to make some soap?” You quip

He raises an eyebrow, his gaze drifting into the crate.

“Something like that” he gives a short reply, his dark gaze meeting your own

Yet you feel weird, a pressure like tingling builds up in your stomach at his look. His own eyebrows furrow a bit as if he could also feel it, something is there, then the smell of the herb's drifts to your nostrils— sandalwood, and the spell between you is promptly broken.

“Well, you two take care out there now. If you need anything the town is only a half hour walk down the road” Tommy perks up, ignoring the weird tension between you and your host.

A sincere look on his face, his eyes not leaving your own until you give a nod.

“Good, watch the road. I stumbled upon a deer family earlier” he clasps his hand on Joel’s back who grunts in disapproval.

You give Miss Perkins one last look, as she’s settled back into her rocking chair, giving you a reassuring smile.

The next few days could only be described as domestic bliss. You and Joel settle into a comfortable rhythm, you help out around his house. Cleaning, cooking and even chopping wood— though after almost flinging the axe at Joel you decided to let him do that part.

Despite it all it’s strangely comforting, the cabin is cozy, the woods make for a perfect spot to take small walks in, though Joel usually accompanies you— because of the wolves he says.

Though you think otherwise, have you perhaps finally chipped a way through his stoic exterior, giving free a glimpse of a more soft and gentle Joel?

Who knows, he certainly wouldn’t agree, though you might be inclined to.

On one of these walks you learn more of his past with your father and the town. Any mention of cryptids are immediately shot down by him, harsh huffs and grumbling comments about the ridiculousness of the notion, and how you are much like your father to insist on the presence of them.

Though, the howling at night, the matted down fur clumps you find near the cabin with no wolf ever showing itself, you start to believe the ramblings of Miss Perkins.

The book she gave you also let you in on theories her husband had gathered on said cryptid, though notably most of those were on potential werewolves.

You set down the plate, the table outside on the veranda decked with a checkered cloth, and the spoils of your Labour in the kitchen.

Giving a smile you look towards the chopping block, as Joel is hard at work, splitting another log in half. Usually when he works all he is clad in are some working pants and a T-shirt, but today the sun has been surprisingly harsh leaving you to only wear a top and shorts yourself. Much like you Joel is donning a tank top though you suspect he might change before dinner, as the fabric is soaked and see through.

The muscles on his back flex as you make your way down to him, eyeing his own spoils of Labour.

“Wow! Who is this pile for?” You ask eyeing the hill of split logs, permeating the ground before you two.

His studying gaze drifts to you, his eye momentarily landing on your neckline.

“The Johnson family— they pay mighty fine” he grunts, his eyes drifting over the rest of your form.

“Where is your necklace?” He asks, a tad cautiously

You give a sheepish look, your fingers drifting over the slight rash on your nape.

“Oh I just put it off for today, don’t worry I still love it very much and didn’t throw it away” you tease back, leaving out the detail that you had a allergic reaction to the leather

He hums in though, his brows knitting together

“You’ll put it back on tonight” he huffs

“Yeah yeah don’t worry. I’ll wear it for our game night, you big old softie” he flushes a pretty crimson at the mention

The two of you started making it a habit to play all the board games Joel still had left from his childhood. A few of them are great and last up to an hour but others are well Uno.

He gives an embarrassed hum, his gaze avoiding your own, he pulls on his tank top.

“Is dinner ready yet?”

“Yeah, I came to fetch you”

You both move together to the veranda with Joel excusing himself momentarily, to change his top.

Your stomach gives a small pang at that, though you cannot or don’t want to place why it would have that reaction.

Soon you two sit at the table, contently eating your dinner. Joel giving hums of approval as he bites into the tender meat of the steak.

“There won’t be a game night tonight—“ he suddenly says

You look up in surprise from your own dish, humming as you chew faster so you can swallow to ask him:

“Why?”

“I’ve got some work to do in the evenin’ won’t be back til late” he says steadily his eyes focused on his food, as yours are focused on him.

“Hmm a shame really….” You pout, his gaze meeting yours over your glass as you take a sip.

Then his eyes fall into your neck again, watching your throat flex to swallow the liquid down. Gods his gaze is so intense you shift on your seat, the motion makes his eyes meet your own before his tongue peaks out to wet his chapped lips.

The steady yet darkening gaze he holds makes you choke on your drink, spraying from your mouth like a geyser onto Joel and his freshly changed shirt.

His eyes are closed, as well as his eyes being furrowed, slowly he opens them to assess the damage. His white shirt thoroughly soaked.

“I am so so—“ but before you can finish he just takes it off.

His hairy pecs now on full display, in front of your salad no less—

You tear your eyes from his sculpted torso ignoring how the slight layer of fat gave him a shapely dad bod.

“I am not changin’ again this one is on you, doll" he teases casually, continuing to eat as if nothing of note had happened

Your cheeks grow warm with embarrassment.

“You’ll still wear the necklace, though right?” He utters suddenly

Snapping you out of your screeching thoughts, what?!

“I— of course it’s the least I could do fo—“

“Making me wet, yeah that much is true”

You huff out an offended puff of air, as heat shots to your ears and cheeks, earning a rare smirk, that dancing on Joel’s lips.

“Where are you later anyways?” You asks poking at your food

“Just doing deliveries” and that’s that.

The two of you don’t talk that much more only little snippets of you asking more questions about his childhood, with your dad and sometimes even about what he remembers from your visits.

Soon you’ve retired to the couch before the fireplace, taking the time to finally sort your notes and as well as your thoughts.

The more time you spent with Joel the more you realize the ever growing attraction within you, a heat building up in your core when he unintentionally flexes his arm while reaching for something behind you, the small growls he makes when you beat him at squabble, or the way his hand settles on your back durning those walks through the woods.

It all builds up to a blinding white heat within you, each time you two seem to grow closer, then there’s a light waft of— something and the tension is gone.

You shake your head, the papers laying before you rippling from the slight breeze created.

Joel has left about two hours ago, after you told him you’d take a small nap, feeling strangely exhausted after dinner and the clean up after it.

Your hand drifts to your neck, the still remaining rash on the back of your neck. Despite your claim you put off on wearing the necklace tonight, though you think Joel would understand were you to tell him about it.

A harsh breeze harshly rattles the window, in contrast to this sunny morning, as you hear the anticipating rumblings of thunder clouds in the distance.

Back to the investigation, over the days you’ve gathered evidence away from Joel criticizing prying eyes.

Photos showing abnormally big wolf paw prints near the entrance of the forest, a ziplock with strangely silvery fur as well as one big claw.

On top of that there are all the customers you’ve questioned while helping Joel do his wood deliveries.

The combination of all of this giving a compelling story, though it feels as though there is one big piece you are missing. Something right beneath your nose….

Thud

It resounds outside, a storm having brewed steadily while you were focused on your evidence. You stand as you creep towards the window towards the front of the house.

The steady increase of rain making it hard to distinguish the outside, as well as the darkness.

Your feet carry you towards the door, your eyes gazing over the exterior. The wind blows harshly through the threes, throwing mean long shadows onto the front of the house only small specs of full-moon light filtering through the stormy mass.

You quickly snap the door back shut as the wind harshly blows rain onto your frame.

“No fucking way” you press out annoyed, looking down on you drenched ‘Pyjama’ which consisted of a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.

Then there’s a rattle at the back door, your head snaps to the direction of the noise, only seeing a brief shadow outside before it’s gone again.

Your heart stop, there’s someone outside, of course on the night where Joel is conveniently gone someone would try to break in.

You quickly run towards the fireplace, arming yourself with the adjacent fire-poker. The tip still glowing with heat, making you hope that if someone truly broke in your have a good go at hurting them.

Thud

This time it’s the front door, your gaze snapping towards it.

Thud

This time you see the mere power the potential intruder possesses, the door creaking in its hinges as it buckles inwards at the mere blow the outsider performs.

Your heart is now going ten miles per hour, beating so harsh you feel it ringing in your ears.

Sneaking past the door you move upstairs, taking the next door available, on the right.

As you settle into the room a distinct scent penetrates your nostrils, you flinch back at the stench. Turning to look at your surroundings to see any indication for the smell— there on the floor it looks like a mix of skin and blood.

Almost looking like the skin of a human cadaver, ripped off and shredded.

You want to cry at the sight, fearing what has potentially happened while you were asleep before.

That’s when you notice, you are in Joel’s room— you’ve not even caught a glimpse of it before now and now everything it screams is danger.

A Crash resound from down stairs, and you slap your unoccupied hand across your mouth, desperate to silence any sounds that could lean whoever was down there to you.

Thud thud thud then there’s a small hiss and a distinct growl

Oh gods, what is that?! You go towards the door, being a sitting duck were you to stay here, and were it to find you.

Slowly you creep out to the floor, careful of every single step you take.

You hear another growl followed by the sound as if someone were sniffing the air, then silence.

Dead silence.

You freeze on the spot not daring to look behind you towards the stairs.

“Soooo sweet” a terrifying timbre of a voice, deep and bone shaking.

Though there is something familiar about it, you gaze over your shoulder behind and there he stands.

Hunched over, hair riddling his entire form, he stands at least 7 feet now making you jaw slacken, aghast at the mere sight of him.

Then a drip, saliva strings slowly dribble from his mou— maw, as he slowly threads closer. You shriek, fire poker extended before you, as you swing it about in hopes of keeping the beast off of you.

Suddenly the poker is slapped out of your grasp falling somewhere behind the beast, your eyes snap open.

Truly taking in the form before you, naked in all his— Unbridledly hairy, glory. The distinct shape, of an unsheathed length, heavy between his thighs, as he draws ever closer.

“I could smell you—“

“From a fucking mile away, didn’t you promise me doll?” The deep rumbles resound

Promise? Oh gods it’s all so clear, the thing— man before you a mix of wolf and man now smelling the air between you, is Joel.

He’s bigger, harrier and most certainly more monstrous but…. It’s Joel.

Right?

“Joel?”

“My sweet babydoll” he steps closer, his face pressing into the juncture between your neck and shoulder.

You gasp at the surprisingly cold touch, he’s awfully chilly, you note, as you clasp your hand on his shoulder to push him off.

“What are you—ahhh” you gasp, as a tingly wet muscle moves in a stripe up your neck.

Did he just lick you?!

What happened to him, what does this have to do with the necklace and what—

“Stop— it’s done and gone now we can finally mate”

What?

“I can smell those thoughts doll… you don’t need them anymore. No more thinkin’ baby” his canines slightly graze the pulse on your neck, resulting in a sharp whine on your part

“What why?”

You press out, another yelp gets torn from your throat as Joel picks you up, as if you weight as much as a couple grapes and moves with you cradled to his chest to his room.

The foul smell that earlier perforated the air now gone as well as the mess on the floor, replaced by a huge nest like mess of furs, blankets and pillows.

“How did you—“ Joel gently but firmly presses you face first into the nest below.

“Hmpf” you try gasping against the pillow

“Such a perfect smell…. I’ve yearned for you to be mine doll” a cold nose presses against your naked thigh

“Oh my god Joel” you cry out, tears forming in your eyes as you feel claw like hands roam over your thighs.

Then there’s a careful kiss pressed close to were your naked thigh meets your shorts.

“That necklace was for your own protection” he huffs against your thigh.

“He— wanted you save, wanted you to wear it…”

Is this beast not Joel? — or it’s the beast within Joel out of his own control?

“We can’t smell you through sandalwood…. Especially my mates sweet floral fragrance” his clawed hands grip the seam of your shorts, resulting in your struggling to reach back but he pushes you back, he is much too tall and strong for you to over power him.

“But now” he rips down your shorts in one go, exposing your embarrassingly creamy pussy to the harsh airs

A hum of approval leaves the beast, Joel— as he takes a wiff of your now exposed pussy.

Giving the exposed part an attentive lick, making your head spin. He presses his maw deeper into your juicy pussy lips, trying to drag his tongue over each crevice available.

All you can do is lay there, back arched into a perfect bow like shape, puffy pussy being ravaged by you fathers best friend while he’s in a beastly form.

Gods it’s so intoxicating

“So delicious…so warm— to think he’d deprive ME, deprive you…” he crawls over you until you feel an uncomfortably telling weight of a throbbing, veiny appendage against your drooling labia.

“My sweet girl, she deserves to feel wanted— she deserves to be shown what she’s good at” he huffs out, his face now next to your own as you catch a look at his irises, before a warm welcoming brown you’ve grown to love.

Now tinged with yellow making it a honey, golden brown— one that makes you a pit form in your stomach.

“I’ll make you see what you are, what you can be, what we can make together…” he grits out, as if fighting the words within himself

“Wait I don’t—“ do you not want this?

You ask within yourself, the question ringing trough your body, all the moments you’ve had with him, moment where you were almost certain that there was something there, only for the smell of sandalwood to break it up.

The questions answer is clearer than ever, you want Joel— but… it this— thing truly him. This huffing hulking beast, whose impatiens thick cock rests against your wet pussy lips.

Gods maybe it is, maybe it is him.

“Please just, be careful” you press out your eyes meeting his own, amber like, eyes.

He leans close licking a comforting stripe up your cheek, murmuring against your skin.

“I’ll make sure to give you what you need”

Then he props himself up, shifting atop yourself— his swollen abnormally huge dick slapping ever so often against your thigh and pussy.

When he’s finally settled into a stance, his face right above your neck, he juts his hip forward. His sensitive member rubbing through your own needy pussy lips.

“Juicy pussy….” He grumbles above you

“Ah” you gasp as he continues to jut his hip into yours, confusion making itself present within you

The coated tip brushes past your entrance, almost catching on the sensitive hole but ultimately pushing past it, delivering a hit to your swollen clit.

You choke out a gasp, he a frustrated growl as he pulls back to perform another attempt.

Is he trying to? Shove his dick inside without his.. claws

Realization dawns on you, perhaps it’s not as easy handling a rampant yet sensitive part like his dick with hairy rough paw-like hands.

“Here let me—“ you reach back, getting a grasp on his— eerily slick member, seemingly already coated in a thick layer of his pre.

It throbs hungrily in your grip, almost loosening the firm grasp due to the veins intensive pulsing.

“Oh my…” you whisper out, praying to every god available that your own arousal as well as Joel’s spit suffices as lube.

He jerks forward in your grasp making you tighten your hold on his shaft.

“Please—“ a whine bubbles out of his chest, pressed against your own back.

“Your cunt, let me-“

“Only if you’re good” you bite back, an almost canine like whine leaving him

“Anythin’” another short whine as you press the fat leaky tip against your opening.

“Now you go slow—“ you start, but it’s no use, he juts forward feverishly like as if in heat.

His cock almost halfway inside of your tight gummy walls, making you almost scream in pleasure as your pussy spasms and convulses around the creamy shaft— spurts of your arousal coating the fur beneath.

“Oh my god fuck”

You press your face into the blankets bellow, embarrassed by how his mere length inserted within you made you squirt.

“S’tight” Joel drawl appear to even with the more rough sound of a werewolf

“Please, darlin’ wanna see you” he whines out, nipping at your shoulder.

You prop yourself up, his slitted pupils meeting your blown out ones. The eye contact makes him purr in approval.

Then he starts moving, more gently, as if coming back to his senses in a way.

Each thrust, plunges a bit deeper than the last resulting in a symphony of moans and pleading from you. For more, for him to go faster and slower.

All of it, you need it all.

“Whenever you wore these slutty shorts, he wished to bend you over the choppin’ block— pullin them aside to show you what a true man does to his mate..”

“Oh gods yes”

He speeds up, becomes more feverish with his thrusts noticing your pussy become softer, wetter, gripping his cock with each plunge. 

“He wished to defile you, ruin you— just as you’ve ruined him”

All you can do is flop around underneath him trying to get him in deeper, as you plunge back and he forward.

“This won’t do—“ he rasps out primaly, picking you up, his stiff creamy cock slipping out of your sloppy, gaping cunt.

You let out a whiney, No please, but the distress is momentarily as you’re laid back on your back.

His maw drips, strings of saliva, collecting in a pool on your T-shirt. Then he grasps each of your legs in his rough claws, folding you in half like it’s nothing underneath his towering form.

“We gon’ give you what you need” he purrs out as a last warning before plunging back into your pussy— a creamy mix of your and his combined, juices squelching out around his cock.

You call out for him, but he silences you as he molds his lips to your neck and bites down, moving in and out of you, like you are his personal fleshlight.

Soon an intense pressure builds up at the base of his cock, making your eyes drift down to the member, seeing the clear outline of a knot?!?

“Oh gods Joel wa-“

He cuts you off by crushing his lips against your own, leaving your neck a hickey riddled mess.

A white ring of your creamy, combined arousal forms at the base of his cock. The base which is steadily growing thicker.

Soon Joel starts purring something a silent prayer growing louder and louder with each blow he delivers with his hips to your own.

“I love you—“ plap “I love you” plap “I love you” plap-

His messy knot smears on your puffy pussy lips, as Joel punctuates his mantra with each thrust.

Until a squelching resounds through out the room, you pussy stretching impossibly wide to accommodate the new girth.

A shocked gasp leaves, your head swimming with pleasure, as you feel a deep tightness building up in your stomach, glancing down the revelation dawns on you, that Joel’s messy tip is pressed right against the opening of your womb, like a battering ram preparing to strike.

His big, calloused touch drifts to the part of your stomach that’s slightly bulging due to his girth. Gently he pressed down, an explosion of pleasure spreads through your core, leading to your pussy lips spasming around his knot.

You gasp, Joel grits his teeth his head swimming with need. He noses at your throat a whine rumbling through him, sending a shiver down your arched spine.

“Inside— need to cum inside” It’s like he’s drunk on his desire, on your pussy, the tightness, your sounds, you.

“Gonna come inside this pussy, make you carry my child”

Another gasps rips out of you as he moves again, his throbbing length impatiently prodding through your cervix, into your unprotected womb.

Gods, the display is one of pure primal perversion, but what really counts as vanilla, when a Werewolf version of your father’s friends is desperately pleading for entry into your womb, to breed you. To have all of you full of him, to have you carry his children.

A whine bubbles out of your chest, your head lolling to the side exposing more of your neck.

Joel presses in harder, his swole testicles a heavy weight on your pulsing rim. Reminding you of all the cum, all the love he’s willing to give you. He needs to give you.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck” you garble out

Joel’s tongue lapping at your throat, and face before pulling you into a messy, overly consuming kiss.

One of his hands previously folding you in half, starts to tear at your t-shirt, ripping the fabric into bits.

Finally, free from the confines of your shirt, Joel greedily eyes take in the shape of your tits before fondling them. Making a show of weighing your breast in each hand, his thumb ghosting over each nipple, making your mouth fall agape.

He leans towards you, licking a small strip over your still agape mouth before leaning down to engulf your left nipple with his warm wet mouth.

His tongue flicks over the nub, making a show of suctioning your areola before letting his teeth graze over your sensitive nipple.

He pops of your tit with a resounding piping noise, purring in approval. Sending your head spiraling at the obscenity.

“-full of milk for all the pups you’ll carry, darlin’”

You snap out of your cockdrunk daze to catch the ending of his post-impregnation promises. His deep timbre voice, pushing you over the edge for the second time, another spurt of you juices now coating his fur, sprays in small desperate spurts out of your pussy.

His gaze meets yours, intense yellow tinged irises gazing upon your own, glazed over expression.

“You’ll make a perfect brood-mother”

That’s the last warning you get before his hips snaps forward one last time, fully seated within you, Joel growls into your shoulder and then you feel it, hot ropes of sticky cum, filling you up. 

A fuck load of it as well, on top of the bulge of his knot within you, the mere over-excessive amount of cum adds on top of the already existing bulge. Making you look as if you were already knocked up.

Joel's body trembles from the exertion above you and he stumbles atop as he finishes, he slumps into his side, his cock still seated within you as we pulls you with him.

His form slowly turning back into a more human shape, his cock growing limp within you.

"Joel?"

"Yes, Doll?" his familiar drawl returns, making your heart beat out of your chest in pure bliss, a beaming smile settling onto your face.

"I love you..."

"I adore you darlin'" his arms embrace you properly, his lips pressing a multitude of kisses along your nape, the feel of his familiar beard letting you sink back into him

"You deserve everythin' ...M'sorry it came to--"

"It's alright, I just want you." you pull his arms tigher around you, letting him continue to litter you with kisses.

Lying there with his large frame engulfing your own, you let out a content sigh, feeling as though all the frustration, to make the perfect article, that was building up within you from these last few weeks was gone.

Whatever intention Joel had for letting you stay here, does not matter now.

And that’s all you can think of as you lay there, a blissed out smile dawning on your face, knowing that your workplace and shit boss can go fuck itself.

Knowing that with Joel’s help, you will take care of it and more importantly, he will take care of you— his everything.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ──────── · ·

A/n: Why would you wanna be independent if you could let Joel Miller fuck you full of pups?

Cowboy Joel art credit goes to Betty Jiang on Artstation (I merely made changes to the nose and the additional facial hair)

Nothing to say I just love this so much and I need to remember this forever

he will do it again

warnings: sex under alcohol influence

Maybe the strobing lights of the club made him look younger, or maybe the girls were too drunk to see the scars of his age spreading all over his face and neck. He didn’t know. Frankly, he didn’t care. He was there for one reason only: to lose himself in a glass of something strong, and a heat of someone wet. And that night Joel was lucky enough to get both.

You were too young to even consider going outside of the club with your number in his phone, but just old enough to take you to the surprisingly clean bathroom. Not that he would’ve cared too much, not when the amount of alcohol coursing through his body almost outweighed the amount of any other liquid.

You must have had some daddy issues, or thought that older did it better; and even though he hated to disappoint a pretty little thing like you, he was not there to impress, he was there to take what he needed and fuck off to his depressingly empty apartment, so that he could sleep on the couch and complain about a bad back in the morning. And in a few weeks repeat the cycle.

The bathroom door banged open, and Joel stumbled inside, dragging you by the wrist. You seemed to like it enough to try and move your feet quicker; the heels made it worse, and since Joel wasn’t planning to go out and look for someone else he grabbed you by the waist almost lifting you up and pressed you against the tile wall.

You hissed when your naked shoulder blades hit the cold surface, but Joel’s whiskey soaked lips returned your attention with wet kisses on your neck and collarbone. You’d tell him to go easier, but your tongue, heavy with alcohol, barely worked to flirt with the man, let alone give any commentary on the actions.

Joel’s dry and rough hand squeezed in between your thighs, sliding up until he met the mess you made in your thongs.

“Spread for me, little doe,” he growled in your neck and your legs gave out.

His soft, prominent belly pressed into yours hard, almost enough to keep you up without even holding you with his hands. Not bothering with taking your panties off, he shoved the soaked gusset to the side and you felt his cock roughly taking his space in your cunt. You didn’t even notice him opening his pants.

Joel’s groan was as loud as the music blasting outside the bathroom door. He soaked in the moment when your cunt fully took him, the pubic hairs around the base of him tickled your naked skin.

The door banged open, bringing in the music and women’s voices.

“Oh my god get a fucking room!”

“Gross!”

Your weak hands tried to shove Joel away, embarrassed to be caught in a situation like that, but he just started thrusting his cock inside you, every push resulting in a nasty hit of your back against the wall.

“We should– ” you tried to tell him that you should stop, should go somewhere secluded.

He was not interested in hearing that, his massive hand covered your mouth, pressing your head into the wall as he leaned to bite your ear.

“I will continue fucking you until I fill that cunt of yours up with two weeks worth’a my cum, and then you can fix your panties and go on your merry way.” He did well on his promise, hips thrusting repeatedly, hammering into you like that was his only purpose. “an’ ‘til that you’re gonna stay on my cock like a good girl you so desperately try to be.”

🥃🧊🥃🧊🥃🧊

@milla-frenchy @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

---

Keeping this in the vault for... research purposes 👀 valuable information in here

Joel Miller is whimpering.

You’re grinding down on his cock, legs straddling his waist, hands buried in the grown-out hair that curls at the base of his neck and he’s whimpering into your ear, a desperate, breathy sound that reverberates in his chest and makes your cunt clench around him. Every sound he makes is delicious, a symphony of sin that has the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end.

“So good for me,” he breathes into the side of your neck, teeth barely grazing your throat, “perfect little cunt squeezing me so goddamn tight.”

He grips your ass, thick fingers digging into your flesh so firmly that you’re sure they’ll leave marks, little fingerprint bruises that you’ll carry with you for the rest of the week. You cant your hips, dragging your slick-covered core against him, and he makes the same sound again, the whimper spilling out of him, unbidden.

“Fuck, baby,” he keens, “got me moaning like a g’damn whore.”

He picks up the pace then, tries to wrest back control, slamming his hips up into yours. All it takes is one circle of your hips, though, and he stills, stomach muscles contracting with effort of not coming right there and then. He squeezes his eyes shut, sweat beading between the thick tendrils of the curls on his forehead as he lets out a shaky breath through his nose.

“Gonna kill me, darlin’” he tells you, opening his eyes onto yours, his pupils blown wide, “y’should have a fuckin’ health warning attached.”

This makes you laugh, a high giggle that Joel mirrors, his own lip curving up into a half-grin. You raise yourself in his lap again, feel the delicious stretch of his cock inside you, pulling half out and then sinking back down. Two more slow circles of your hips, hardly a movement at all but the combination of it and the sweet clench of your cunt and Joel’s swearing again, hissing a desperate breath out through his teeth this time, the blunt edges of his fingernails now pressed against the flesh of your hips. One more circle and he comes undone beneath you, cock twitching inside you, his jaw dropping with the sweet shock of it.

"Jesus fuck, baby," he gasp as you rock gently against him, drawing out his orgasm, the last whimper falling against your own lips when you lean down to kiss him.

He might be the one man in Jackson everyone’s afraid of, the guy lots of folk will cross the road to avoid bumping into, but when you’re in his lap, naked and writhing, Joel Miller’s nothing more than a whimpering fool.

WINGS AND ALL??? 😭😭

Wip Wednesday!

Thanks for the tag @evolnoomym 🩵 This week I’ve been finishing up the first chapter of Saddle Me Up, Cowboy and started on the second chapter of Saving What Was Lost.

1. Cowboy! Joel

“My, my. You got your hands full. Don’t you, Cowboy?” you blush, fluttering your eyelashes flirtatiously up at him. You like him even more now.

“Reckon I do,” he chuckles, his thumb tracing light circles against the back of your hand, eliciting goosebumps down your arms.

“Too full to handle one more thing?” you question, giving him your best puppy dog eyes that you can manage.

He shakes his head and smiles warmly. “If that one thing is you then ‘course not. Got all the room for you, darlin’.”

2. Ch 2 of Saving What Was Lost

When he returns and sets the bottle of creamer and a shaker of sugar down in front of you, you crack. A tear slips down your cheek, and you look up at him through glassy eyes. “I can’t remember what I loved to do before they—before they took me. My hobbies, my passions, my likes. I just don’t remember…” Your voice is barely audible as it shakes beneath your broken stature.

God, you’re so broken.

His jaw flexes and his knuckles tighten into closed fists. He seems angry, but those sad brown eyes tell a different story. He’s not mad at you; he’s furious about the ones that took your life away. The murders that tainted and destroyed your life, your mind, your heart. They took everything from you, and Joel knows this. He hates it as much as you do.

He takes a deep breath and relaxes his fingers against the cold material of the kitchen island, his brown eyes focused directly on you. His bottom lip twitches, and then he sighs as he speaks. “It’s gonna take a while, sweetheart. Gonna take time and work to remember what it was you loved before, what you lost. But I have no doubts that you’ll get ‘em back. You’re gonna discover new loves, new passions, new hobbies. And trust me when I say that you will thrive. One day, you’re gonna be soarin’, and all this pain and sufferin’ will be gone. Maybe not completely, but you’re gonna fly, sweetheart. Wings and all.”

Another tear escapes your lash line, and you nod up at him slowly. “Thank you…” is all you can muster out of your highly emotional state. Thoughts are hard after he just painted a masterpiece with his words.

You’re gonna fly, sweetheart. The words stay sealed in a safe space deep inside your mind. No one can take what he just said away from you. Words that were spoken straight from your savior. Words meant just for you. Wings and all.

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