#Partially because it’s NYE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gasolinerainbowpuddles · 4 months ago

Text

Honestly Im surprised Joel didn't ask her to move in with him when he got bavk from Sarahs

Oh, if he thought she would say yes in any capacity, like if he thought there was even a glimmer of hope she'd say yes, he'd ask her straight away. No hesitation.

But he knows that's not where she's at yet. He's just waiting for her to get there, I think. He is still very much "you call the shots in this relationship" because of the inherent imbalances and age difference in addition to her not being in the best headspace a lot of the time.

I love that he was supportive of her meeting with Kenzie. But in a way that was clearly supporting her wants and needs.

If I had to guess, I would say that Joel got a good feeling from her about Kenzie, and he trusts her instincts about people enough to remember that even when the two of them had a falling out over NYE. Not to mention he is probably partial to her bc she sent those pics on NYE, which reader wouldn't have done of her own accord at that point.

She needs a female relationship in her life and I hope they continue building a more steady friendship now.

Their friendship is an important facet to the story. While this fic focuses heavily on her and Joel, I wanted to bring in sibling relationships and friendship relationships and how those can also be challenging to maintain if you have been through the sorts of traumatic things like reader has. But it is possible, for all of the relationships! It just takes trust and work and good people.

The big elephant of all this has been her home life.

I don't think Joel ever anticipated something as bad as what actually went down on NYE bc reader didn't give any inclination of it. She just said she had a bad fight with Kenzie and left it at that. I imagine what was going through his head was something along the lines of "holy shit you've kept that from me so easily for months now so what the fuck is the thing that I've been able to pick up on bc it has to be so much worse than I've been thinking" which catches him off guard and has him a lot less patient and calm than we've seen him thus far.

Relationships are not always sunny and sexy like the little bubble they've had since they ventured into relationship territory.

The fact of the matter is they cannot move forward in a meaningful way with their relationship if she doesn't learn to trust him. He's given her every indication that he is a safe space and won't just up and leave, but there's still the fear that this good thing she has can disappear in a moment's notice if he decides it's too messy to get involved with.

Thank you so much for reading, and I'm so happy you've enjoyed it thus far! Looking forward to hearing your thoughts on later chapters!

𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 · · · · 𝚅𝙸𝙸𝙸. 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑 ║ ⓒⓗⓐⓟⓣⓔⓡⓔⓓ

𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 || 𝚗 𝚊 𝚟 𝚒 𝚐 𝚊 𝚝 𝚒 𝚘 𝚗 || 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x fem!OC/reader

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | CHAPTER CONTENT: POV switching, existential crisis about relationships and self-worth, insecurities, relationship growing pains, one step forward two steps back type shit | WORD COUNT: 10.6k

| CHAPTER SUMMARY: Who needs enemies when you've got inner demons?

“Oh fuck,” you choke.

“Yeah?” Joel pants, pressing the fronts of your thighs even deeper against your chest as he drives into you. “Right there? That where you need it?”

“Right there! Right there! Keep going keep going keep—”

Sweat drips from the tip of his nose onto your shimmering skin, drenched from the almost hour long session you’ve had. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve come already. He manages to draw them out of you repeatedly, even when you feel boneless and floaty and like you couldn’t possibly produce another climax if you wanted to. You have no idea how he hasn’t come yet or how he manages this sort of stamina. It has to be powered through sheer will alone.

“Give it to me,” he commands in a near growl that ignites something in your spine and has your body obliging within seconds. He finally joins you with his own bliss, letting out a ragged moan as you feel the kick of his cock against your quivering walls. His motions finally begin to slow, and you both hiss at the heightened sensitivity of him easing out of your warmth.

You blink lazily as you watch him deftly unsheath his softening length from the condom, tie it off, and toss it into the trash. He sinks into the space next to you in bed with a little wince and groan that you immediately clock.

“You okay?” The euphoric fog quickly dissipates as you hone in to him.

He gives a dismissive wave at your fretting and instead tries to pull you against his sticky, warm frame. “S’nothin’,” he insists.

“But you made a face, and—”

“Just mighta tweaked my back a little there at that last bit,” he admits a little sheepishly.

Well, maybe his stamina and force were impressive for his age, but there were still things that showed it. The age difference between you wasn’t something often discussed, but you’d gleaned from comments here and there that Joel seemed a bit more bothered by it than you did. It frankly wasn’t an issue for you in the slightest, and any opportunity to reinforce that to him was one you’d make good on.

So, you reverted to what you and Joel had always shared: a sense of humor.

“Wow, dicked me down so hard you injured yourself. Now that’s commitment,” you joke.

He chuckles lightly at your toothless teasing and rubs an open hand along your hip. Encouraged by his reception to your ribbing, you double down.

“Here I was thinking ‘blow their back out’ meant something else, but what do I know,” you titter.

He laughs earnestly at that and pretend pinches your thigh. “Always got jokes after but never during. Never got jokes when you’re too busy tryna take this dick,” he poses with an arched brow, stilly cocky somehow even with a pinched back.

“Yeah, you got me there,” you giggle. You snuggle closer and let out a deep breath. “How about you lay on your belly. I can rub your back a little bit as a thank you and a sorry all rolled into one, okay?”

“Ugh, I think I’d prefer bein’ heckled over bein’ pitied,” he protests.

He rolls over like you asked, but the sentiment of his veiled remark lingers: you wanting to take care of him must somehow be rooted in feeling sorry for him. It’s as untrue as it is unkind, and you want to squash every last hint of it.

“I’ve got some catching up to do, you know,” you challenge. “The least I can do is return the favor every now and then.”

He makes a questioning, muffled sound into the bedding.

“I was kinda thinking that it’s just what we did these days – looked out for each other. Besides, I think a back rub after making me come 500 times is the least I can do.”

You don’t point out all the countless ways he’s stepped up for you, often without even knowing just how much it mattered in the moment. He laughs again and finally relaxes into the sheets. It feels like a victory over his doubtful mind, and you get to work kneading deep strokes into the taut muscles in his lower back. He sighs at the palliating sweep of your hands, and, after a few moments pass in silence, you realize he’s fallen asleep. You smile to yourself and keep massaging.

Kenzie: i turned down the double phoenix acct Kenzie: they offered it to me but i didnt want it Kenzie: not worth it Kenzie: not worth losing a friend over :( Kenzie: plz text if ur ever ready Kenzie: bc i rly want to talk

You push out a long, sharp lungful of air and lock your phone. Kenzie may be a lot of things, but nobody could ever accuse her of being half-hearted. You can’t recall a time when anyone has pursued reconciliation with you to this degree, and, although it might be colored by wishful thinking, it seems like she is genuinely remorseful. The fact that you also have your own misdeeds to address makes the idea of responding to her all the more compelling.

There was no way around your rotten conduct that night. You’d left a partially drunk Kenzie with two fully unsafe men, and it was wrong. She’d let you down immensely – had left you feeling betrayed and upset on top of everything Logan had done to you – but it was no excuse for how you’d acted so far out of your own character. The blame wasn’t squarely on anyone’s shoulders in the situation, and it made the entire ordeal a giant, confusing mess.

You sigh again, maybe a little too loudly, because Joel peeks a head out of his office and calls your name.

“Everything okay?”

“Um….”

Tell him.

Tell him tell him tell him.

Tell him!

“You got a minute?” You know his calendar is clear for the rest of the afternoon, but it still felt impolite to assume you could just waltz in there whenever you wanted.

“C’mon.” He jerks his head towards the door and summons you to step inside. “What’s wrong?” he probes the second he closes the door behind you.

“I... need your advice,” you hedge.

He motions for you to proceed, and you take a deep breath before starting. “Okay, you remember my friend? The one I used to work at the grocery store with? The one from New Year’s Eve who sent you all those pictures of me?”

He nods along to your questions and flushes slightly at the mention of the pictures, one of which he’d set as his home screen almost immediately only to get caught the next day by your curious eye. “Yeah, Carrie? Er… Kiley?”

“Kenzie,” you gently correct with a short lived smirk. “Yeah, so, I was thinking about– I dunno, I guess meeting up with her? Talking stuff through?”

You’ve never told him everything that happened that night, and it leaves him at a disadvantage to understanding the nuance and extent of your falling out. You’d thought about just being upfront about the whole thing, sure, but any time you’d get near discussing it, you always talked yourself out of it.

Joel looks thoughtful, considering your words and all your unspoken tells, before responding. “What made you consider talkin’ it out?”

You aren’t really sure how to answer that one. “I dunno. She just keeps texting me, and… I dunno. I think she means it when she says she’s sorry. And I have stuff I should apologize for, too. I guess maybe we both need to speak our piece to clear the air or whatever, and I dunno from there to be honest. It’s just… complicated.”

“So, is meeting up to talk what you want to do or what you feel like you should do?”

There he went again with those laser focused questions that cut through all the bullshit. He was getting better and better at that, and truthfully it made you a bit nervous, like he could see right through you.

“I think I want to, actually. As much as it makes me nervous thinking about it. Confronting it all or whatever. And, I just– I really miss talking to her, you know?”

“Well, if you think it could help you decide a path forward one way or the other, then I think it might be worthwhile to set it up,” he reasons.

It sounded so simple how he put it. Was it really that simple? Or was it just Joel bringing that quiet confidence to a situation and letting some of it rub off on you? Either way, it felt good to finally have someone to discuss these kinds of things with. It didn’t feel like such a massive dilemma with him helping you weigh the pros and cons.

With nothing more than one short conversation, Joel had you feeling worlds better about the situation than you had in months. The inherent comfort he brought was a slippery slope, one that had your foothold wavering on the determination to keep things to yourself. The urge to divulge more and more, to unpack all the things that weighed you down, grew each time his steady, gentle sense of calm cradled you.

Bringing him onboard with the Kenzie situation was a small step forward in your effort to open up to him, but it felt like you might’ve finally turned a corner.

It’s a relief to find the coffee shop isn’t too crowded. You aren’t sure how this reunion is going to pan out, and you don’t much care for an audience to the possible spectacle of it all. The paper to-go cup – your chosen alternative to the ceramic mug in case things went south – glides against your fingertips as you nervously rotate it back and forth. The rapidly cooling brown sugar caramel latte slips across your tongue and down your throat quite effortlessly despite the nerves wracking your body as you await Kenzie’s arrival.

The bell above the door peals to signal a new customer. Kenzie drifts through the frame and pauses at the front counter, surveying the cafe for you. You pop a hand into the air to get her attention, and eventually her line of sight pans your direction. She straightens up when she spots you, but it’s not the confident posture she normally assumes. She is noticeably nervous as she heads your way.

You stand to greet her out of habit, bumbling halfway through when you realize a hug might not be welcome – or even what you want – and you awkwardly settle back into your seat just as she reaches the section. She doesn’t hesitate at your awkward body language, instead just plopping into the chair across from you and sitting quietly for longer than you’ve ever witnessed. Her gaze alternates between the tabletop and the large window several booths away. She shakes her head, sighs loud and long, and finally meets your eye.

“Can I go first?” she asks, sounding a bit on edge. Grateful that you don’t have to figure out how to start this conversation, you motion for her to speak.

“I know I’ve said it a million times in texts — and I’m sorry for blowing up your phone – but I want you to understand that I am, like, actually sorry. I really am sorry.”

“Yeah, I gathered as much,” you yield. “I don’t think you’re the type to keep saying it if you didn’t mean it.”

“No, totally,” she affirms. “I wouldn’t be trying so hard if I didn’t mean it. I wouldn’t be trying to– I don’t know– I wouldn’t put so much effort into something I didn’t care about.”

“It’s– I can see that. I know it’s…”

“Listen, I can’t take it back, which fucking sucks, but it’s true. As much as I wish I could go back to that stupid event and make different choices, I’m stuck with the ones I made. I acted like a terrible friend, and I understand 100% why you were upset. You had every right to be upset with me.”

Her eyes close for a moment, arms firmly crossed against her chest, before she continues.

“The next morning I woke up and couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror. I didn’t know who the fuck was looking back at me because I didn’t know that person. I didn’t know I was somebody who would act that way in that situation. I’m, like, I-I pride myself on being this ‘girl’s girl’ or whatever, but then I went and—”

She stops abruptly and waves a hand in the air before tucking it quickly back into her elbow.

“—and I’m fucking rambling right now. Ugh. I don’t know why I didn’t step up and be the friend you needed, but I do know that every fucking day since I have kicked myself for it. I acted like my whole entire life was on the line or something, like defending you was going to cost me my entire future career, and it was so, so stupid. No job is worth that. No opportunity or whatever is worth risking….”

Her lips press together in a tight line, and she looks off to the window again. “It wasn’t worth losing you as a friend,” she finishes somberly.

You allow yourself the passing moments to digest everything she shared, also affording her a moment to collect herself. Seeing the unshed tears shimmering in her eyes almost has you forgiving her right then and there, but this was a necessary sort of pain. The circumstances deserved to be acknowledged by you both in your own way, no matter how uncomfortable or upsetting it was.

“It’s really nice to hear you say that, Kenzie. I– That night, I just… it hurt so fucking bad. I didn’t expect it, and I think that’s what made it hurt worse.”

She turns to you again, hastily blinking tears away, and nods. “I get it, babe. I do. I really do. I didn’t even know I could be the kind of person I was that night, and it has been so fucking eye opening for me. It peeled back a layer, and I saw a side to myself that was so ugly. I’m glad I know it’s there now because I can– I don’t have to let it make my decisions for me, you know? But it’s– The cost of losing you has just been…”

She swallows hard and tips her head back, trying in earnest to not cry in the middle of the coffee shop. “Shit,” she sniffs and squeezes her hands together on the tabletop.

You’re reaching over and grasping her hand in yours before your brain has entirely caught up with your decision to give this friendship another try. “Hey, I need to apologize, too,” you say quietly.

“What?” she balks.

“No, Kenzie, I do. I might’ve had a bad encounter with Logan, but I left you with him and Charlie all by yourself. You wanna talk about the morning after and wondering what kind of person you are? I felt so much guilt for leaving you after knowing what I’d just gone through with Logan. You could’ve been hurt so bad, and I left you there to fend for yourself,” you huff with obvious disdain for yourself.

“Nothing happened,” she assures you. “I left pretty soon after you did, and they were both at the bar taking more shots. I wasn’t even there for more than, like, 20 minutes after yo–”

“That’s not the point,” you interrupt. “The point is: I left you in a bad situation because I was upset. I could’ve been upset with you and made sure you left the unsafe situation, too. It wasn’t an either or choice.”

“I guess,” she sniffles and shrugs. “I probably would’ve done the same thing, so it’s not like either of us is perfect.”

“No,” you agree with a strained exhale of a laugh, “we’re not.”

She shoots you a small, watery smile, and you feel the tension dissipating in real time. “Can we… Do you think we could try again? To be friends?”

It hurts your heart to hear the uncertainty and vulnerability in her voice. “Yeah, I think so. I definitely think so.”

She wraps you into a hug and squeezes way too tight before settling back into her chair and demanding you catch her up on your life. You smile into your drink, knowing full well how much you’re going to savor her reaction when you tell her about you and Joel.

You hold your tongue from all the anxiety ridden thoughts that threaten to spill over when Joel finishes zipping up the medium size duffle bag full of basic workwear and little in between. You want to go with him. You don’t want to be away from him. You hadn’t realized how comforting it’s been knowing that he lives a few streets away from you and that he’s there. It’s all a bit delusional and unrealistic, but it’s where you’ve landed more often than not as of late.

Keep it simple. Keep it neutral. Don’t be needy. Don’t be clingy. You keep repeating it to yourself like a self-help mantra, but it does little to make you feel any less self-disparaging about the pathetic mindset you’ve somehow let wholly encapsulate you. You’d spent your entire life without Joel Miller and had taken on anything that came your way. Now suddenly you’re acting like a little lost puppy at the first inkling of being away from him for a few days.

You had always known yourself as the strong fortress, ready to shield yourself and Calum from whatever you could, but these days it felt like the foundation of that tower was crumbling from the ground up. Every genuine connection and slip of warmth and kindness and sincerity from Joel was another stone falling away from your intricately, expertly fortified mental stronghold.

It was terrifying, and you couldn’t make it stop.

Sometimes you’d even been surprised when simply being with Joel made you want it to crumble. But you didn’t know that person. You didn’t know the version of yourself who’s not afraid to come down from the high defense and unlock the door at the base. You didn’t know the version of yourself who wants to pull that heavy door and have Joel pushing from the other side just so he can get in sooner. So you can let him in sooner.

But most of the time, you’re at your post in the tallest peak of that tower. Ever the vigilant sentinel for hurt and destruction because there’s never not been a time where ruination hadn’t been lurking on the horizon. A watchful eye for the anger and violence and malice disguised as love, a Trojan Horse meant to deceive and destroy you from the inside out should you ever let your guard slip.

All the while berating yourself for being too clingy despite keeping anyone and everyone at arm’s length. A devilish whisper in your mind echoing that you’d end up driving Joel away if you didn’t maintain the buffer that made you more palatable. Ensuring you were lacking any of that pesky complexity that made people nervous. Because being with you wasn’t easy. Because someone getting to know you was never going to be easy. Because you were work. Your existence meant effort for everyone around you – and a lot of it. Because you’re a burden. Because you’d always been those things and didn’t know how to be anything else.

Because the effort required would never be worth the reward of truly knowing you.

“How many days did you say?” you ask again for the millionth time. He answers graciously, of course, and makes no mention of how he’s already told you.

“I dunno. Three, probably. Hopefully. Don’t wanna miss much here and definitely don’t wanna sleep on that back killer sofa of theirs multiple nights in a row, but I don’t wanna leave her and Ben to take it up with that asshole landlord of theirs, either. So, hopefully three? Gonna leave Wednesday afternoon as soon as I finish up with the Williams Project permits.”

Three days to address the damaged cabinets in Sarah and Ben’s apartment kitchen. Their landlord had discovered their blunder before she and Ben could get it sorted, and now he was apparently trying to charge them an exorbitant amount to have a “professional assess the damage and make the necessary repairs.” Luckily for Sarah and unfortunately for her money grubbing landlord, Joel was a licensed contractor, and repairing a few kitchen cabinets was light work in his world. They lived far enough away that a day trip wasn’t feasible, so Joel allotted a day on each side of a solid workday for traveling there and back.

“I guess that’s not that long,” you muse with a sullen frown. For a fleeting moment you think about how he didn’t even care that Sarah had messed something up in the apartment. He wasn’t angry with her about it, and he didn’t even seem to mind that he was now having to take time off work and make travel plans to help fix her mistake. It was a given that he’d do that for her. The thought of it makes your throat tight and your eyes hot. Keep it simple.

“Hey, don’t be like that,” he tuts. He strides over to where you’re slumped against the headboard watching him pack and sidles up next to you. “I already told you not to worry about makin’ it up to the office. You have the house key and you got what you need set up here. Whatever else can wait until I get back.”

“I know that,” you huff. “But you won’t be here.”

Keep it neutral.

“No, I won’t,” he concedes softly. He runs a warm palm up your thigh, and you shiver at the simultaneous electric and calming surge it sends through your body. “But, you just hole yourself up here, and I’ll make it up to you when I get back, alright?”

“But I don’t sleep good now unless–” You cut yourself short and flick aimlessly at his bedspread.

Don’t be needy.

You know you’re being sulky about his very short trip away from you, but you can’t snap out of it. All those thoughtful texts and sweet goodnight calls had built upon themselves to the point that it wasn’t even just a habit anymore – you were pretty much dependent on those interactions from Joel every night if you wanted anything close to a peaceful night’s rest. Your brain felt jetlagged and erratic without the soothing and settling check-ins from Joel, and god did it feel so easy and good to just keep doing it. He was so easy to rely on.

You see him most days of the week, and even still the couple of days you’re physically away from him feel strange and empty. Those Monday morning kisses and hugs are mandatory for your nervous system to regulate itself and flatten into a smooth, rolling wavelength. It was the sort of instant salve you’d always longed for but never thought would be true. Now here you are feeling tangled and all sharp edges without his presence and immediately set right when he’s there again.

The altered brain chemistry he’d caused felt permanent at this point, and it was frightening to know you couldn’t change that. There would never be a time again in your life where you’d be okay without him.

Don’t be clingy.

You lift your gaze when Joel hasn’t responded yet, and you study the odd look of contemplation on his features. He senses the weight of your stare and turns to you again.

“What if you could stay here while I’m gone? Would that make it easier on you?”

“Joel, I’m just being—”

Stupid. Demanding. Ridiculous. You don’t get to pick which demeaning label to slap on yourself because Joel moves right past it.

“Tell your old man that we’ve got an out of town conference, and the guy that was supposed to help keep us organized had to pull out last minute. Say it was offered to you next, and you wanna make a good impression so you said yes. Be ‘outta town’ while I’m at Sarah’s. Stay here.”

What you wouldn’t give to sleep in his bed and have the scent of him lingering on the sheets to help the days pass quicker. But life was never easy like that, not in your experience at least. It couldn’t ever be that simple.

“I dunno, Joel…”

“No, listen,” he says with more emphasis now, propping himself up across your middle so you have to lean back into the headboard to make enough space for him. “A commute that’s just a walk down the stairs? Got whatever you need in my kitchen, and I can order you somethin’ if it isn’t. You can take up the whole couch every night and watch whatever you want. The whole house to yourself. Walk around naked if ya want.”

His grin widens when you laugh and roll your eyes. You aren’t sure why he seems so urgent about it all the sudden, but it convinces you to at least consider trying to pull it off. It would be nice to feel closer to him while he’s gone…

“I guess it couldn’t hurt to try,” you admit and try to hide that burning ember of hope in your voice.

For some reason it felt like you needed to manage expectations – yours or Joel’s, it depended on the day – just in case this all went awry. As if curtailing and containing the explosion of feelings pouring out between you two would somehow make it all hurt less should this not work out. But it was painful to think like that, and you were sick and tired of living in pain and fear and doubt.

“There’s my girl,” he beams, and you feel on cloud nine when he acts like this over you. Like it’s some big favor you’re doing for him by taking over his house and using up his resources while he’s gone.

“Yeah yeah, no promises. Still have to run it by my dad,” you remind him pointedly. “Anyway, you need to finish packing so we have time to fuck.”

“Oh, is that right? Got me a little to-do list with your name at the bottom, huh?” His arms snake around your body in a way that is most definitely not the type of movement that’s going to lead to packing, so you give him a playful push to finish his task.

“Alright, I’ll hurry up.” He stands and rifles through the empty outer pocket of his bag. “Hand me that extra charger on the nightstand, will ya?”

“Sure,” you reply and shimmy over to the flat surface where no extra charger is to be found. You glance down at the floor to make sure it hadn’t been knocked off at some point, but there’s nothing there either. You lean forward and slide the small drawer open to look just as Joel makes a strange noise that you think is meant to halt you in your search, which is puzzling up until it’s not.

There’s no charger in sight, but there is Kenzie’s dress and tights crudely shoved to the back like an afterthought. Your bra is a little further back as well, but your panties from that night sit front and center in the immediate opening of the drawer. Unlike the rest of the garments, they look like they’ve been taken out and put back several times over, and you have a pretty good idea why.

“Joel Miller,” you gasp with an amused, scandalized grin. “What exactly are these doing right next to your bed, all tucked away in here?”

You’re certain if you held a hand close enough to Joel’s cheeks right now you’d be able to feel the heat rolling off them in waves. His mouth opens and closes dumbly while he stands there speechless. Getting caught red handed looked pretty damn good on him.

“It’s not what it— I didn’t — I’m not a pervert,” he sputters. “It was just a coupla times, I swear.”

“Oh, you’re not a pervert, Joel,” you contend with a honeyed, low voice as you crawl on the bed towards him. “You’re a deviant.”

His shoulders relax a bit when you start to giggle furiously, clearly amused at discovering his little secret. “Quit it,” he appeals weakly. “S’embarrassing.”

“It’s only embarrassing,” you amend, quickly standing and wiggling out of your jeans, “if the thought of you masturbating to my used panties like some dirty little secret wasn’t so hot.”

His pupils swell as he watches you tug your panties off and put your jeans back on. His gaze follows your hand as you unzip his duffle bag and drop them right on top of all his items before zipping it back up.

“So from one deviant to another, those are on the house,” you say and pat the duffle bag where the brand new used panties rest inside. “You know, for all your travel needs.”

You give him a playful wink and plant a little kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Nothin’ but trouble,” he huffs in a laugh.

All the worry about whether or not your dad would buy the story of heading out of town last minute for a work convention was pointless because he barely even listened as you stuttered through the lines. You hadn’t been that bad at lying in a long time, and you think it might be that you wanted this so badly. You got to see Joel almost every day of the week in person and through video calls on top of that, and the idea of him suddenly being gone even when you knew he’d be back made you feel jittery.

The universe finally took pity on you, it seems, because your dad was so wrapped up in winning over Denise’s family that he didn’t even seem to care that you’ll be “out of town.” One less thing for him to manage, you suppose. You wonder if having an empty house was preferable in the event Denise or her family wanted to stop by or have a nice dinner. If you were out of town, he wouldn’t have to decide whether or not he should acknowledge your existence to them.

Regardless, once this effort of making a good impression passes, you’re sure he’ll double back to you and start something over you up and leaving. As if you could control things like last minute business trips, even if it was all made up anyway. It never mattered if something was literally impossible to control. It would still be your fault somehow.

But for now it meant enough wiggle room to get out of the house for a few days. It meant freedom to exist in Joel’s space while he was away. It meant a calm, quiet, and serene night – every night. You felt like you could cry from relief.

The day had finally come to head out to Sarah and Ben’s. It’s not been more than a few hours since he kissed you goodbye, and he already misses you like crazy. He’d anticipated it, of course, but not so soon. Not like a little lovesick schmuck, glum and pitiful without their special companion. At least he didn’t have to worry about you staying in your own house while he was gone. Your dad bought whatever line you fed him about traveling for work, and Joel’s chest relaxed the moment you told him. You staying in his house with his things around you was the closest he could get to keeping an eye on you in person.

He’s just under 30 minutes out from Sarah and Ben’s when a text notification from you pops up. He needs to stop for something to snack on anyway, so he pulls off the highway and into the closest convenience store parking lot. He swipes on his phone until your text thread fills his screen, and his eyes bug out at what’s staring back at him.

You’re propped up in his home office chair with your legs spread wide and knees hooked over the edge of the armrests on either side. You’re wearing one of his t-shirts and nothing else. One hand is lifting the hem of his shirt up just above your mound, and the other has fingers dancing close to your bare pussy. He doesn’t even think twice before clicking it open and zooming in, groaning a little at what he wants to imagine is a little wetness spreading between your folds. It takes him a solid 5 minutes of staring to realize you’d texted a caption with the picture.

You: a benefit of wfh → no bra no pants and no panties 🤭 You: miss you ❤️this shirt smells like you the most so I decided to wear it

“Fucking christ,” he mutters under his breath.

He doesn’t know where this emboldened version of you came from, but he always knew something was trapped under the surface of all your guarded demeanor. Now it’s like a switch has been flipped, and he’s grateful to see you so open if not a bit of a handful. He likes to think he can keep up with you, but you keep knocking him on his ass with this sweet, sexy confidence you’ve had as of late.

Joel: Holy shit I stop for gas and see this? 🤯 Joel: You look so fucking good wearing my shirt. Joel: Both of us just might have to have a work from home day if that’s the dress code. 🥵

You: wanted you to know I was thinking about you You: and maybe give you a reason to think about me too Joel audibly laughs at that. The notion is entirely ridiculous that you aren’t constantly in his thoughts, that he isn’t incessantly thinking about how to spend more time with you.

Joel: I’m always thinking about you!

Joel: But now I’m thinking about you while I’m in the middle of a parking lot trying to decide if I can do anything about this hardon you gave me. Lol. 😵

You: show me

Joel adjusts in his seat and fiddles with the angles for a minute or so before finally settling on a straight down shot of his hand palming the tent in his jeans. He sends the picture and waits.

You: looks good, baby You: want it right here

His cock jumps when he sees the accompanying picture of your pussy close up, being spread by your pointer and middle finger in a wide V. It’s definitely wetter than in the first picture. He doesn’t even need to zoom to see it. By the time he’s saved your photos to his camera roll, another text from you has come through. His cock and heart both jump this time when he sees it’s a video file. He taps the play icon and hunches over the screen, already fully absorbed in whatever you’ve sent.

The video starts on a closeup of your mouth with your middle finger bobbing in and out. You spit more saliva onto it when you remove it, and you let it make a long, slimy trail that connects from your fingertip to your tongue. You guide the camera down to your pussy and press your wet finger against your clit. Joel turns up the volume and rewinds the clip about 4 seconds just so he can hear any noise you make when you finally touch yourself.

It’s the smallest little dreamy sigh, and it makes his erection borderline painful. He has to take it out of his pants when he realizes the slow, deliberate motions you’re making on your clit are spelling out his name, almost like a little game between the two of you at this point. He peers around the lot and breathes a sigh of relief that it’s not too busy. There’s no occupied vehicles nearby, but that doesn’t guarantee someone won’t be walking to one of the empty cars around his truck, either. He considers digging into his bag for a half second after the worn panties you’d tucked inside, but he decides against it. He was already in enough trouble as it was keeping himself poised.

Joel: Can you send one of you putting a finger in there for me, sweet girl? Joel: Miss that sweet pussy already. Joel: Had to take my dick out it was pressing on my zipper so bad.

You: not as much as she misses you ;( You: sorry about the zipper You: hope this helps ❤️

The next video you send makes him grip the base of his cock to keep it from making an explosive mess everywhere. He grabs up some napkins and spits into his hand before tapping the play button and stroking himself. He can’t quite tell what you’ve got the phone propped on, but you’re on the ground with your ass in the air and a hand reached around from below you to slowly pump two fingers in and out of yourself. He can see your asshole pucker whenever you hit a spot that feels really good, and then his brain is thinking about if you’d ever want to try that with him.

“Yeah, just like that,” he whispers to no one as he tries to discreetly jack off. “Stretch it for me, sweetheart.”

He’s already blowing his load about six strokes in, the divine song of your whimpers and moans making it happen quickly. He’s panting, eyes darting around to ensure no one has seen him, and he doesn’t come down

before you’re locking eyes with the screen with a little smile and stopping the recording. He cleans himself up with the dry, rough napkins he’d thankfully had stashed in the console and sends a reply.

Joel: Literally just jacked off in the middle of a parking lot because of you. Joel: You make me crazy. Joel: 😰🍆✊💦😵‍💫🛻

You: feelings mutual, baby 🥰 You: just came really hard thinking about you

He hopes to god that what you’re saying is true and that you feel as strongly for him as he does for you because he doesn’t know if he could take it if the opposite were true. He saves the video to his phone for later, thinking of an opportunity to watch it again with the panties you’d tucked into his bag, all crammed against his nostrils and mouth. He feels like a dirty old man, and it makes him laugh to himself knowing how much you’d love that.

Joel made it back in record time and without having to even push the speed limit that much. It did little to quell his antsy mood, though, still eager to get back to you. Even Sarah had taken note of his distractedness and at one point even made the comment “who are you smiling at?” when she’d caught him grinning at his phone like an idiot over a dinner selfie with a cheesy little pun you’d sent him. He’d done a poor job of shrugging off her needling, and thankfully she dropped it after a little while. It didn’t stop her from making another comment about getting back home to “take care of things” and looking triumphant when he’d confirmed her suspicions by doing a piss poor job of hiding how flustered it made him.

He throws the truck into park and slings his bag over his shoulder, bounding up the front steps and wiggling the key into the lock as fast as he can without scratching the plate. You hadn’t replied to his text from an hour ago about how he’d be home soon, and it made him all the more anxious to see you. The house is quiet and dark even though it’s not far past five o’clock. He calls out, but there’s no response. He checks the living room, the home office, the guest bedroom. He finally finds you in his bedroom.

You’re curled into a little ball with his bedding twisting around your limbs. Your breaths are small and even, and you look so serene it makes his chest hurt. You look perfect here in his space. It could be your space, too. Maybe. One day. He doesn’t bother analyzing and correcting the clamorous, insistent draw to keep you closer to him and more often. He wonders if you’d ever move in with him. It’s all tricky, of course, because of the age difference and because of the work relationship and for a million other reasons that are never enough to make him slow down. It’s too much too fast, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

He wants you close. He wants to take care of you and keep you safe and make you feel happy and loved. He wants to cook for you and spend lazy afternoons together watching movies. He wants you to pick a paint color for the downstairs bathroom. He wants you to choose decor items to put all around the house so you mark your claim here. He wants your clothes sitting in the washer so he has to move them over to the dryer before he can start a load of his own. He wants to pull down two coffee cups every morning instead of one. Hell, he’d even shop around for that nasty caramel flavor syrup you love so much that it makes him gag from the sweetness. He’d learn just how you like your caramel coffee and make it for you every morning.

He wants your shoes to pile up by the front door because you kick them off the second you get home. He wants to argue with you over what to set the thermostat at, only to give in to whatever you want it to be. He wants to have a Saturday morning routine where he teaches you to drive until you feel confident enough to take the test. He wants you to bug him about landscape ideas you have for the backyard. Bug him to the point that he’ll spend hours breaking his back over, all to find it was worth it in the end when you’re sat together on the deck out back on warm summer nights as you watch fireflies.

He wants to take you to a botanical garden so he can learn your favorite flowers and get you bouquets of them frequently. He bets you’d be so good at the corn mazes they set up during the fall festivals around town, and you could ride the ferris wheel afterward. He wants you to rope him into some random community center adult class about pottery or watercolor and tell him what a nice job he’s done even though yours will look way better. He wants to make a fuss about getting a real tree for Christmas because you like the smell. You probably won’t remember to water it, but he’ll remember to water it. Because you want it and because you like it, so he’ll remember. Because he’d do anything to make you happy and to make you his.

You stir at the recognition of someone else being in the room. He snuggles into the bed beside you immediately and warms at how even through a sleep drenched brain you place who he is. You sling two sluggish arms around him to draw him snug against you. You say his name in a little surprised, breathy whine that makes him chuckle and grin.

“Hi, sweet girl,” he murmurs quietly into your ear. “You takin’ a little nap?”

“Got my period and got super tired,” you mumble back. “Aw, Pluck,” he coos. He turns you to your side and presses a warm palm against your lower abdomen, working it in gentle, firm circles. You sigh at the welcomed ease to your achy middle. He would never wish for you to feel unwell, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to being able to take care of you the rest of the night. The best part of it was that you were finally letting him take care of you. Trusting him with it. And he’ll be damned if he wasn’t going to rise to the occasion.

“I think Rachel is working today. She usually works Fridays,” Kenzie explains as she holds the door to the Electric Pony Sex and Erotica Shoppe.

“You seem pretty well acquainted,” you snort.

“Ugh, this place saved my life,” she declares with such sincerity you know she really believes it. “Dry spell for months. Would’ve gone insane - like, clinically - without their help and recs.”

“Fair enough,” you concede.

The dull pink neon glow gives the blacked out entrance lobby a friendlier feel. There’s a perky looking woman with a sparkly nose ring flicking through a Muscle Bear Monthly magazine at a plastic window that reminds you of a bank teller. Her eyes lift to you and Kenzie before lighting up in recognition.

“Kenz! Hey, girly pops!” She motions you both over and waves off Kenzie’s ID. “You’re fine. Need to see your friend’s, though.”

You dig your state ID card out of your backpack and slide it under the opening toward her. She scoots it back to you and buzzes you into the main area. Your eyes dart every which way as you take in a whole slew of products. You weren’t a prude by any means, but being surrounded by so many toys and accessories and outfits and performance enhancers felt a little bit intimidating. It was a lot different than looking at a few things online and inevitably closing out of tabs when you were reminded of the fact that you had little to no privacy in your own home and therefore could never justify getting anything for yourself.

“So, what’re you lookin’ for? Anything in particular or just browsing?” Rachel asks, mostly to Kenzie.

“I’m actually still good from my last haul, but my friend needs a few things.”

You jump in before she can blow your spot up completely about why you’d made this trip. “Yeah, I just, um, sort of wanted to step my game up a little, I think.”

“Oh, perfect. We get that a lot, so we can definit–”

Kenzie cuts Rachel short and adds, “Her boyfriend is older and more experienced and has a nice dick, so she wants to match his energy a little bit. Right now she basically just needs help with riding dick and giving blowjobs.”

“Kenzie!” you hiss.

“What?! You do! You said you still can’t really fit him that far into your mouth!”

“Okay, I think we can figure something out,” Rachel laughs in an easy sort of way that makes you feel a touch less embarrassed after Kenzie’s disclosure.

You grumble under your breath and follow Rachel’s lead to a large wall of toys. Kenzie has the sense to look a little chastised and trails behind. You’re staring down row after row of dildos and plugs, and you try to ignore your nerves and remind yourself of why you came here. You’d only just begun your physical relationship with Joel, but this being your first of that kind with a male partner had you noticeably lacking apprise of anything beyond basic technique. Neither of you were dissatisfied with anything, but you couldn’t shake the blow to your self-confidence that came with having such a competent partner.

“So, let’s just start with the basics, okay?” Rachel begins. “Have y’all been together for a while or is this something newer?”

“Newer. Like, brand new, sort of. In a lot of ways.”

“Okay, that’s fine. Just asking to see if this is a learning a new partner situation or trying out new stuff to spice things up type situation,” she explains. “Okay, so. Kenz mentioned some oral stuff and positioning techniques. Is that where you’re looking to get into or were you thinking a different direction?”

“Um, no. I guess… Yeah, just…” you stumble.

“Listen, we’re super chill here and just wanna make sure everybody leaves and has a good time when they get back home, okay? So no pressure and definitely don’t feel embarrassed.”

You weren’t sure how to explain that you weren’t really embarrassed, per se. You’d just never had this sort of chatty girlfriends dynamic where you talk about your sex life and your love life and all the nitty gritty in between. You’d always been the listener, and now being the talker was different.

“No, I’m good. I just, you know, I’m new with guys for a partner. So it’s just kind of, like, I’m figuring it out as I go along, and I’m not always sure what to even ask,” you admit.

“Well, luckily for you, guys for the most part are pretty simple in my experience,” she says encouragingly with an amused grin. “The main thing is just being into it, you know? Whatever it is that you’re doing, if you seem like you’re having a good time and he’s turning you on and ‘ooohhh oh my god’ you love his cock and all that, nine times out of ten they’ll be happy.”

“Well I’m definitely into it, so that’s not a problem. Like, very into it. He’s, um, he’s really good in bed.”

“You said he’s older and probably got more experience, right?”

“Yeah, definitely. He’s not complaining or anything. I just– this is just me wanting to…”

“Show him you’ve got a top tier pussy that he’ll want to lock down?” she offers.

“Yeah, something like that,” you exhale in a laugh.

“Okay, got it. I think first thing is we gotta see what we’re working with. Certain things just don’t work as well with, like, if a dick has a strong curve to it or if it’s on the bigger side. So take a look at the wall over here and try to find something similar to his size and shape.”

Kenzie instantly perks up at this and is practically glued to your side as you peruse the offerings. After a few minutes you find one that is pretty close to Joel except for slightly more of a curve. Kenzie’s mouth is theatrically agape as you pull it off the shelf and hand it to Rachel, who raises her eyebrows and purses her lips.

“Well damn. Good for you, honey.”

The following half hour is crammed with more information about how to be on top, what sort of lingerie would be cute but still comfortable, throat training, and everything in between. Like two best friends helping you prep for the biggest exam of your life, Kenzie and Rachel work in tandem to personalize and curate your education.

It was about the point where you were supposed to be mimicking a hip motion while straddled atop Kenzie for practice that you started to feel more overwhelmed than ever. After promising you were going to practice reverse cowgirl on a pillow in the mirror, they let you take a break from the symposium.

“Okay, so the outfit pieces and throat training sequence kit bring you to…” Rachel trails off as she punches a few keys on the register. “$212.53.”

You choke back the panic of spending money on yourself and pull out some bills from your secret stash. It would be worth it in the end. You knew that. At a price like that, it had to be, right? With your new collection of things you’d have to figure out where to hide, you and Kenzie bid Rachel an excited goodbye and head out.

Joel was most definitely trying to get you to tell him where you went shopping and what you bought. His fabricated reason for closing up an hour early so he could “check something at his house before dropping you off” didn’t make any sense. He was clearly chomping at the bit for you to tell him. It’s like he somehow knew the contents within were for him. Never one to indulge – especially on yourself – your purchase had him hovering around like a moth to a flame trying to catch a glimpse.

“You never said where y’all went,” he mentions casually as he pointlessly arranges and rearranges the dishes in his kitchen cupboard.

“Oh, nowhere, really. Just a few places Kenzie wanted to browse,” you supply with feigned disinterest that Joel doesn’t buy for a second.

“Mhhmm. Awfully bright pink bag with a flirty lookin’ pony on it. Can’t imagine what sorta store that was,” he hums with a little amused grin. “Find anything for yourself?”

“A few things, maybe,” you admit with a coy smile.

“And am I ever gonna get to see those few things?”

“Maybe if you’re really, really nice,” you tease.

“Right,” he snorts. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

You giggle and aimlessly flip pieces of mail on the counter. “So, um, speaking of Kenzie, I never got to thank you for helping me with that. Giving me advice and the push I needed to meet up with her so we could try to work things out.”

“No big deal. Just wanna help you.” He shrugs it off, but you sense there’s more he wants to say. Suddenly turning serious again, he says, “I’m here for that kinda stuff, you know? If you need me. ‘Cause I need you to understand that. Whatever you wanna talk about or just have somebody listen to you think out loud. Whatever it is. I’m here for you.”

“I know. I’m not really the best at sharing stuff,” you admit. “It’s just… hard.”

He nods and leaves his pretend task of straightening dishes to settle next to you and circle your hand in his own. “I get that. Sometimes, though, it’s– you gotta– you don’t hafta drown in it, you know? If there’s somebody offerin’ a hand to pull you out….”

You aren’t so sure you’re still talking about sharing milder problems like rocky friendships. You play dumb and keep the conversation away from his unspoken insinuation.

“I know. I just like to try to handle my own problems, you know?” you offer up weakly. “I feel like if you can’t solve your own problems then you’re just putting the strain on everybody around you. And besides, me and Kenzie ended up having a good conversation that day. Neither of us even cried in the middle of the coffee place, so that’s a win,” you chuckle nervously.

“So, I mean– I never really got all the info on that, I don’t think. What was the main issue that was causin’ a problem?”

His gaze is steady. He knows this is the most direct he’s ever been in asking about your private life. He knows whether or not you choose to answer might just determine if your attempts to be more open with him are going to hold up or if you’re going to shrink back into yourself and push him away.

Tell him.

Tell him tell him tell him.

Tell him!

“I.. don’t … I’m worried it might upset you,” you answer truthfully. You knew he’d be unsettled by Logan’s inappropriate advances at that New Year’s Eve event. Joel looks surprised at the disclosure, like he hadn’t ever considered it would be something that would involve him somehow.

“I’m not gonna be upset with you,” he assures you.

If only you could explain that’s only the half of it. Even him just being “upset at the situation” would probably be enough to spark all your nerves alight and reduce you to a neurotic, frazzled mess. But he was always so calm and collected. He never seemed ruffled no matter what you threw at him. Maybe you could tell him what really happened. Maybe this could be the soft launch into finally revealing the truth about your dad.

So, you give him a rough setup about Kenzie’s college degree almost being completed, how she landed this internship that could mean really great things once she graduates, and how New Year’s Eve was supposed to be her big foray into taking on a client on her own with the company. You don’t sugarcoat the first impressions of Logan and Charlie, and a knowing look catches in his eye. He understands where this story is headed.

Your heart hammers as you recall the unreciprocated flirtation on the dancefloor that was followed by Logan stalking you to the bathroom and putting his hands on you. Joel’s jaw muscles flicker as his indignation builds, and you have to remind yourself repeatedly that reaction is not directed towards nor intended for you.

You finally manage to finish recounting the terrible night, but you don’t feel any weight lifted now that the truth is out there. Joel looks confused and angered. You thought he might’ve felt happy to know the truth finally. If anything, he seems more agitated than ever.

“Have you seen him since? Does she still talk to them? Work with them?”

“No, she dropped the account. She doesn’t see them, and I haven’t seen either of them since.”

He sits in silence for a moment, turning over all the new information in his mind and reframing his past knowledge. Then–

“So.. when you… that night when we.. was that just….”

“No, no,” you object. “It wasn’t just some reaction to all that. I-I really had feelings for you already. You really made me feel… you made me feel better. Safer. I felt safe with you.”

“Not safe enough to tell me what had happened,” he points out a bit glumly.

“Joel, don’t be like that,” you beg.

“No, I just wish I’d been more– I dunno, I wish you could’ve seen me as somebody to trust with that. I wish I’d been that for you when you needed it, and I wasn’t. I let you down.”

“It was just a lot that happened really fast, Joel. I hadn’t even– I’d barely had time to process any of it. It wasn’t because you aren’t trustworthy. I’m telling you now, right?”

“Yeah, you’re tellin’ me about this…..” He trails off and shakes his head before leveling you with a hard stare. “But all it makes me think is what else you’ve got under wraps because I haven’t done enough to make you feel like you can trust me.”

The hairs on your neck feel prickly at the sudden change in tone. He’s dancing right on the edge of what you’d been avoiding the most the entire time you’ve known him. Your mouth opens and closes a few times without result other than your tongue feeling like sandpaper.

“Like how come you can’t tell me why you really went to the office on Christmas Day,” he says flatly.

You swallow hard and shake your head, your chest heating to a million degrees.

“Or why your dad is so weird with all these rules and say so over your bank account.”

“He’s always been like that,” you argue. It’s not lost on Joel that you didn’t actually address anything with that statement.

“Yeah? He always been gettin’ into fistfights with Calum, too? That just how he’s always been?” he levels at you.

Your spine draws up and straightens your entire body at the unambiguous remark. “I’m not getting into all this right now, Joel.”

He huffs an unamused laugh and pushes himself from the counter, hands on hips as his head drops and shakes side to side in disbelief. He looks back at you with a look you’ve never seen from him before: disappointment. “You can’t even tell me what Calum’s deal is?” he lobs. “Just fuckin’ shows up and goes through your stuff without you knowin’, and next thing I know you’re loaded up in the car with him? Just off to god knows where? And I’m not allowed to ask or anything. I gotta just act like that’s normal and I’m fine with it.”

All nerves siphon directly into prickly anger at the mention of your brother’s role in all this. “That’s none of your fucking business,” you snip.

“Yeah? And what if I wanted it to be my business, huh? What then?”

“Then I’d say you needed to take a step back and get a grip.”

“Unbelievable,” he grumbles. He paces the floor a few times before approaching you again. “So, is that what our relationship is gonna be like? You just get to hide stuff from me and leave me worried about you? And I don’t get to ask any questions or have any say in it?”

“I’m not some fuckin’ project for you to work on and fix, Joel,” you snap. “And what you feel about the boundaries I have aren’t any of my business at the end of the day.”

“So that’s it? You just get to have all these rules and all these walls up, and I just gotta take it or leave it? Pick up the pieces only when you let me and not when you need me?”

“Need you? What exactly is it about me that makes you think I need saving so bad, Joel? Huh? What, because I’ve got a–a more difficult home life or whatever? A bad family dynamic? A mom that didn’t give two shits about us and walked right out without a second glance back?” you fume. “In case you weren’t aware, I’ve been handling whatever comes my way my entire life just fine. I don’t need you and your weird fucking savior complex making things into something they’re not.”

“Wow,” he scoffs. “Savior complex? S’that what you call bein’ worried sick over somebody you care about and wanting to help them? You ever think about that? That maybe people are just tryna be helpful?”

“Who says I need help? Who says I need anything or anybody? Who says I need you?” You regret it the moment you say it as you watch Joel’s face crumple for a split second before he straightens it out again.

“Yeah, you don’t need me or anybody else, huh? You just got it all figured out.”

The air is heavy as you draw in tighter breaths. Joel stomps out of the room before circling back into the kitchen with glossy eyes.

“Dammit, why do you gotta do this shit?” he huffs. “Why can’t you just let me be there for you? I want to. I want to be there for you.”

“I don’t need your or anyone else’s help, alright? I’ve done fine on my own my entire life, and I’m not interested in feeding men’s egos anymore.”

His lips purse tight like they’re catching words between his teeth before they can become cutting projectile that would only make this conversation more hurtful than it has already devolved to. A muscle near his earlobe twitches, and then his face smooths out like a long wave washing along the shore, smoothing out the gritted sand to a flattened pane once more.

“If that’s how you feel, I know better than trying to change your mind,” he rebuts calmly and coolly.

Despite the neutral mask he wears, the halo of a wounded heart wraps around every syllable, and your heart plummets. You did that. You made him sound that way. You made him feel that way. It’s all happened so fast that you can’t quite figure out how to undo it, how to go back those few precious seconds and stop yourself from lashing out.

“I’m going home,” you whisper.

You snatch up your things and hurry out the door, ignoring the call of Joel’s voice begging you to let him drive you so you get there safely. That insidious voice inside your head bitterly reminds you there's no point in getting home safely when your home isn’t safe.

tagging

@r3dheadedwitch @windsweptarmadillo @survivingandenduring @bizarrelove-triangle @sunandmuun

@koshkaj-blog @wand-erer5 @keylimebeag @canteenee4 @copperhalfcent

@ellenmunn @confusedpuffin @lavema @zooty-and-fruity @reneerocks3617

@fishingforpike @pastelnap @pastelpinkflowerlife @docharleythegeekqueen @janaispunk

@jodiswiftle @bonezone44 @toomanystoriessolittletime @jupiter-soups

@cumberpegg @weho2kcmo @thethirstwivesclub @heartstoptrying @beelzebeth87

@joelmillersblog @joeldjarinff @littleficreccs @joelscowgirl @elli3williams

@indiegirlunited @lyuir @gay4magnetobutfanfiction @ficrecreblo @gossipgirl-03

#fic: chrysalism #comment reblog

149 notes · View notes