Mike Driver
art blog(derogatory)
No title available
Cosmic Funnies
AnasAbdin
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
if i look back, i am lost
@theartofmadeline
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
izzy's playlists!
Jules of Nature
$LAYYYTER
KIROKAZE
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
No title available
JVL
Three Goblin Art
tumblr dot com
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
todays bird
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Czechia
seen from Mexico
seen from Netherlands
seen from South Africa
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Poland
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from Hong Kong SAR China
seen from United States
@joelismyserotonin
✦ hello, I’m Della ⋆
✦ Proud Mama ⋆ Socially awkward ⋆
✦ If you want to know more about me, feel free to ask ✦ side blog @covenrosedella
ᝰ Joel Miller Masterlist ᝰ Joel Miller x f!reader x John Price One Shot 18+ Tit For Tat - Part Two- Exhusband!John Price 18+
Dividers by @/saradika-graphics
Oh shit!… only just noticed the comment tab.
Have you ever wrote a drabble, one shot, series—and thought…
“Wow—this came out of my head. It’s brilliant.”
I’ve just had such that moment 🩷
Waking up in the morning and Price is buried between your legs. It's not his usual frantic or hungry pace, he's not eating you out to make you cum, he's just enjoying your taste, savouring you.
Price is the type to hold a hand over your stomach, keeping you from squirming too much, keeping you from taking away his breakfast. Price is the type to look at you through his lashes, tongue swirling over your clit, watching you as you throw your head back, whining, it's still too early for this even when you're shivering everytime his moustache and beard brushes against the tender skin of your inner thighs. But Price isn't the type to move away from your folds when he needs to murmur his scold; his words sending the softest of vibrations through your core “Don't start the day by complaining too much, doll”
Although he won't give you the chance to complain, or even utter a word, because when Price starts his morning with his head buried between your legs, there's a high chance you won't be getting out of bed at all that day.
This would be the best way to start your day 😁💋
Pastel Rainbow Dividers
Please credit @pixopix, likes and reblogs are appreciated!
So cuuuuute
Can you just skip the middle man of a fic and just write the end chapter?
Leaving out how Joel and reader don’t become a thing but then years later they meet up again and become something ?
Can we just do that?
Hello hi!
Dumbass oldie here.
Can anyone explain, (in moron terms) how to put a link in my bio please
I’ve googled, I’ve tried it and it’s not working. About to volly my laptop if I’m honest
Thanks so much in advance x
Old bitch still needs help here. 🤣
(excerpted from Leila Chatti's poem: "Tea", published in Missouri Review)
[SUMMARY: Joel is secretly in love with Tommy’s girlfriend and comforts her while his brother is in jail.]
God, Joel didn’t know what the hell you saw in his brother or more so how the hell Tommy could get a woman like yourself.
Angst fluff protective Joel
Note: story inspired by @dancingtotuyo High Infidelity Series!
Now I KNOW they are not about to make my husbands fight-
Wanna know what’s frustrating?
Having a really fucking dirty mind but ya cannot for the life of you put that shit into words.
It’s fucking sly! 😞🤣
Let’s Talk About Mending- Married!Joel Part Three
Warnings: None really. Swearing. Just an average married couple trope really 👍🏻No Sarah :( Any mistakes I shall fix later.
Joel Miller hated asking for help, especially when it came to his marriage. Yet somehow, there he was, sitting on Tommy and Maria’s porch, nursing a cup of coffee that had long gone cold. Maria sat opposite him. Waiting.
Joel rubbed a hand down his face. “She said she’s fed up.”
Maria raised an eyebrow. “Those exact words?”
Joel nodded slightly. “In a way...she’s fed up with my ways.”
“Okaaay.”
“What?” Joel asked pinching his brows .
Maria took a sip of her coffee. “Well, what ways is she talking about?”
Joel glared, but kept quiet.
“This about—your sex life?”
Joel sighed heavily.
“Right, well, you don’t have to go into details but is it cause it’s like vanilla or she’s—unsatisfied maybe?” She raises a brow, not smugly but like, she’s needs him to say it.
“Says she feels like a fuck toy.”
Maria’s brows shot up. “Whoa!” She stays quiet for a moment then she has to ask—“do you treat her like that, Joel—do you think that’s all she’s there for? Cause she’s not…we’re not” Maria started to sound agitated towards her brother in law. Tommy didn’t behave this way, there’s no way Maria would let him.
Joel sighed heavily, slouching his shoulders. “I don’t think she’s in my life just for that. I don’t do it on purpose. It’s just—she’s my wife and I love her.”
“Yeah but—just cause you say you love’er doesn’t mean she feels it from you. They’re just-fucking words, Joel.”
The worst part was she was right. But somewhere over the years he’d gotten comfortable with just saying it. Predictable.
Maria leaned forward, rolling her mug between her palms. “So what are you gonna do?”
“I told her I’d make it up to her, I don’t know how yet.”
Maria smiled. “Well this ain’t about flowers or something sparkly—why buy her a reminder of a fuck up?.”
Joel shrugged. Maria laughed. “Your wife doesn’t want stuff. She wants effort…Any man can buy a gift and any man can say words.”
Joel rolled his eyes. “I put in effort.” Maria pointed at him, “then why are you here talking to me, huh?” Maria softened slightly. “Joel, when was the last time you planned something just because she’d love it?”
Silence.
“Exactly.”
Joel hated when she did that, made him answer questions without saying anything. “So what do I do?” he asked.
Maria smiled and shrugged, “I don’t know, she’s your wife, Joel.”
A few days later, Joel woke you with a little shake. “Baby.” You were less than thrilled. “What time is it?”
“Early.”
“That’s not a time.” You pinched one eye closed, ready to punch this man. You groaned into your pillow. “Joel Miller, if you woke me up just to watch fucking birds—”
“It ain’t birds. It’s a surprise.”
You groaned again when he pulled back the covers, telling you to get your ass up and to get dressed. “What about work?”
He just shrugged. “What about it?” Then he walked out the room with a cocky grin in his face.
At the foot of the stairs were two backpacks, stuffed with clothes and so on. “We camping or something?” you asked. Camping had never exactly been your favourite thing to do, but somehow you always ended up having a blast and begrudgingly thanking Joel afterwards.
“Just—shush, okay?” Joel pleaded, holding up his hands. “I’m tryin here, baby. Please, just have a little patience, yeah?”
The look on his face made your heart squeeze. You hadn’t seen that expression since the early days of your relationship—nervous, eager, trying so hard to impress you. It had worked back then, and apparently it still did. “Okay.”
It was a long drive.
Half an hour in, you’d asked, “So…where are we going? How much longer is this drive?”
“Jesus, you’re so impatient. We still got a bit of a drive.”
That had been four hours ago. Now you were practically in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by rolling countryside and scattered barns. Normally it all looked the same to you, but when you passed a tree whose branches naturally curved into the shape of a heart, your stomach dropped.
“Oh my God. Are you kidding me?” You turned to Joel, who was looking unbearably smug as he pulled up into a courtyard and infront of a manor house’s enormous double doors.
“I know a friend of a friend who’s been workin on the place,” he explained. “Owners away on vacation, so…”
Your jaw nearly hit the floor. Years ago, you’d stumbled across a website listing supposedly haunted houses and abandoned buildings. Ever since, you’d begged Joel to visit one with you. Every time he’d told you to go with your friends. What fucking friends? Maria was practically the only friend you had, and she definitely wasn’t interested in spending her weekend chasing ghosts.
This particular manor had fascinated you the most with its history. Supposedly it once belonged to some wealthy man with two wives and more children than anyone could count. According to local legend, he’d murdered his entire family over a debt, and ever since then people swore the place was haunted.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. We’re staying here? For the night?” Your eyes widened with excitement, desperately hoping Joel wasn’t pulling your leg.
“Yup.” He grinned. “Stayin the night. Well…until you get scared, anyway.”
You scoffed…that was ridiculous. You were his spooky girl. There was absolutely no way you’d be the one begging to leave. “Me? Scared? Don’t be silly. You’ll probably come outta this with more grey hairs, bucko.”
Joel laughed as you both unclicked your seatbelts. Before you could open your door, he stopped you. “Stay put.” He walked around the truck and opened it for you. “Aww, look at you, bein a gentleman.” You stepped out, stretching your limbs. Your back cracked, your shoulders popped, and at least three different joints made concerning noises.
God, you were getting old.
“May I carry madam over the threshold?” he asked, still trying to keep the mood light.
Honestly, he didn’t need to be stressing over any of this. He’d already won the moment he’d brought you here. That didn’t mean you were going to tell him that just yet.
“Sure,” you said. “Though I’ve put on weight since the last time you did this.” Joel scoffed as he bent down and effortlessly lifted you into his arms. “You still weigh nothin. What’re you talkin about, baby?” You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. The manor’s enormous doors creaked open as he carried you inside.
Then he paused. Just for a second. His eyes flicked down to your lips before returning to yours, almost like he was asking permission without saying a word.
The poor man looked so hopeful that you decided to put him out of his misery. Leaning forward, you pressed a kiss to his lips. Joel smiled immediately against your mouth, nearly stumbling over the threshold because he’d been paying more attention to you than where he was walking.
“Careful,” you murmured, laughing.
“Mhm,” he replied, clearly not listening. One hand tightened securely beneath your knees while the other shifted higher against your back. He kissed you again, slower this time, lingering for a few seconds longer. You were both smiling by the time you pulled apart.
“Joel,” you warned.
“What?”
“You’re about two seconds away from walking us into a fucking wall.”
He finally glanced up and immediately adjusted course. “See?” he said. “Got it under control.” The loud thud of his shoulder hitting the doorframe suggested otherwise.
You burst out laughing. Joel groaned while carrying you farther into the foyer.
“Don’t start. Or I’ll put you down”
“Ooo. Gentleman of the year,” you teased.
“Keep it up and I’ll put you down.” He warned again.
“You absolutely will not, Mr.”
“No,” he admitted, pulling you a little closer. “Probably not.”
The manor was enormous. Every hallway seemed to lead to another hallway. Floral wallpaper, chandeliers hung overhead, and your footsteps echoed through the silence. “This place is amazing,” you whispered.
“It smells like mold. Pretty sure that’s black mold.”
You rolled your eyes and continued deeper into the house. A few minutes later you stepped into what looked like an old library.
“Joel?” you called. No answer—you narrowed your eyes. “Joel.” Still nothing.
Then—
“RAAAH!”
You jumped a foot in the air as Joel appeared from behind a bookshelf, grinning like an idiot.
“Oh my God!”
He doubled over laughing while you smacked his arm. “Worth it,” he said. It happened again twenty minutes later. You wandered into an old dining room and found him crouched behind a curtain.
“Boo.”
“Joel.”
The smile on his face said he was far too pleased with himself.
By the third attempt, however, you’d had enough. You were studying a large portrait hanging above a fireplace when Joel suddenly emerged from behind a grandfather clock. “Boo.” You didn’t even flinch. “It’s getting old, dude.”
Joel frowned. “You didn’t even jump.”
“It’s getting old,” you repeated, glancing him up and down. “Just like you.”
“Ouch.”
“Sorry, old man.” You laughed out as you stepped closer to the portrait. The painting showed a stern looking man in an expensive black suit. His dark eyes seemed to follow you around the room no matter where you stood. “That’s him,” you murmured.
“The guy from the story?”
“Yep.”
Joel moved beside you, slipping a hand into yours. Up close, the man’s face somehow looked even colder. The artist had captured every detail—the sharp jaw, the thin mouth, the expression that seemed permanently stuck somewhere between anger and disappointment.
“Definitely murdered somebody,” Joel said. You barked out a laugh. “You can’t just look at someone and know that.”
“Sure I can—see.” He pointed at the portrait “look at him.”
You looked. The painted man looked back. “…Okay, fair. Fucking creepy.”
For a moment neither of you spoke. The manor creaked somewhere overhead. A distant thump echoed from another floor. You immediately straightened, Joel’s eyebrows rose. “Still not scared?” You straighten your shoulders. “Not even a little.”
Another creak echoed through the house and you quietly stepped a little closer to him, linking his arm.
“Not. A. Word.”
Joel smiled. “Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.”
You laughed more that day than you had in weeks and every time you looked at Joel, he looked relieved—like he was finally seeing you enjoy yourself again. It had taken you nearly two hours to explore the whole place and by the time the clock chimed 4 o’clock—your legs ached, your cheeks hurt from smiling…and Joel looked exhausted.
You kicked your boots off by the door.
“Well?” Joel asked cautiously.
“Well what?”
“Is it okay?”
You stared. “Okay? This is more than okay.” Joel shifted awkwardly, your expression softened. “Joel—this is perfect.”
“Yeah?” The tension visibly left his shoulders “Good.”
You stepped closer and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.” His ears immediately turned red, “yeah, well…”
You grinned. “You’re adorable.”
“Don’t start.”
Later, standing in the kitchen, you discovered another surprise. Joel had bought all the food to make a meal, he laid out across the counter as you still can’t believe your eyes.
Tomatoes. Cheese. Pasta sheets. Ground beef.
You blinked. “We having Lasagna?”
Joel nodded. “Thought we’d make it together.”You burst out laughing. “Together? You hate people being in our kitchen—you don’t even let me in the kitchen.”
“I don’t hate it.” He says defensively like a stubborn kid.
“Oh. You absolutely do.”
Joel pointed a wooden spoon at you. “I tolerate you, but everyone else can kiss my ass.”
“How romantic and mighty big of ya.”
Ten minutes later you were both elbow-deep in preparation. Joel was chopping onions—aggressively and you were responsible for the sauce…a responsibility you took very seriously, even though you kept scooping some out…to test it of course.
“If you keep “testing” it, there’ll be none left for the actual meal. Must you do that?
“Yup.”
“You’re a menace.” He grins as he carries on chopping. You just shrug. “You married me.”
Joel couldn’t argue with that.
You and Joel both patted your bellies, feeling so stuffed. “My God, that was fuckin delicious. Go me.” You gave your stomach another satisfied pat.
“Go me?” Joel scoffed. “You hardly did anything. You were too busy eatin the damn sauce and cheese.” You waved him off, scrunching up your face. “Oh, shush. That was my starter.” Joel laughed, letting his head fall back dramatically, defeated by the enormous meal he’d just demolished. “I need to be comfy,” he groaned. “Don’t wanna slip into a food coma sittin on this flimsy chair.”
It was honestly pretty funny seeing his broad frame squeezed into one of the homes tiny chairs. The place belonged to a widow who clearly had a fondness for small furniture. Even the bedroom looked like something out of a dollhouse. She must be a very petite woman. Joel, meanwhile, looked like a giant. One wrong shift of his weight and you were half convinced the chair would surrender beneath him.
The kitchen looked like a war zone. There was flour on the counter, cheese scattered on the floor. You leaned back against the counter, Joel stood beside you. For a while neither of you spoke, the place felt warm. Comfortable. You slipped your hand into his. Joel immediately squeezed it. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. You looked at him. “For what?”
“For gettin lazy.”
The honesty caught you off guard. Joel stared at sink. “I don’t what happened. I guess somewhere along the line I stopped trying as hard.”
You squeezed his hand back. “Well, you tried today—and fuckin succeeded I might add.”
“Yeah?”
“And it meant a lot.”
A small smile appeared beneath his beard, the one he saved for moments that mattered. Not flashy, just real. Joel turned and pressed a kiss to your forehead. And for the first time in a while, neither of you felt like there was anything left unsaid.
The kitchen was spotless by the time you were done—at least, spotless by Joel’s standards. Then it was off to the movie theatre. Yes, an actual movie theatre. It was small, but charming. A large screen dominated one wall, while a long red velvet couch stretched across the room. The widow clearly enjoyed watching films in comfort and style.
“Well,” Joel said as he dropped onto the couch, “at least I can fit on this.” You laughed and settled beside him.
Soon, the two of you were surrounded by booze, snacks, and naturally—a horror movie. It was one of those old Hollywood B-movies, filled with dramatic music, bad acting, and jump scenes that somehow still worked. A particularly sudden moment on screen made you grab Joel’s arm. “Thought you weren’t scared, spooky lady,” he teased. You scoffed. “I’m allowed to be scared of a movie, especially one I haven’t seen before.” You gestured toward the screen. “This is old school. Probably older than you.” Joel gave you a look. You nudged his chest and settled back against him before he could argue.
As the film rolled on, the room grew quieter. The warmth of the couch, the food, the drinks, and Joel’s steady presence beside you all worked together until your eyelids became impossible to keep open.
By the time the credits started rolling, you were fast asleep, your head resting against his shoulder, breathing soft and even. Joel carefully shifted, moving with surprising delicacy for a man his size—making sure not to wake you, he slipped an arm beneath your knees and another around your back before lifting you effortlessly into his arms.
The friend of a friend who’s working on the manor had specifically warned Joel not to sleep in the main bedroom. Joel’s response to that was simple…screw that-only the best for his woman. He carried you upstairs and nudged the bedroom door open with his shoulder…then he stopped, the bed was absurdly small. For a moment, Joel just stared at it, the widow must be half his size. Shaking his head, he crossed the room and gently laid you down. You stirred slightly, mumbling something, but never woke.
Joel stripped down to his boxers, tossing his shirt and pants onto a nearby chair before carefully climbing into the cramped bed behind you. It was a tight fit. Still, he wrapped an arm around your waist and gently pulled you closer until your back rested against his warm chest. You instinctively relaxed into him.
Joel buried his face briefly in your hair, breathing in the familiar scent of you. The corners of his mouth twitched into a small smile. Comfortable at last, he settled deeper into the mattress, holding you close as sleep gradually claimed him too.
You and Joel were woken by a loud voice. “What the fuck, Joel?!” Jerry—Joel’s friend of a friend—had arrived early to start work and immediately found the two of you sprawled out in the bed. “I fuckin told you not to sleep in here. Jesus Christ, man.” You and Joel jerked awake. Instinctively, you scrambled to cover yourself, despite still being fully clothed. Beside you, Joel was laughing so hard he had a hand on his stomach.
“Aw, c’mon, Jerry. It ain’t that big a deal.”
Jerry clearly disagreed. He stood there with his arms folded while you and Joel hurriedly gathered your things. It felt like two teenagers getting caught and scolded by a deeply disappointed parent.
Muttering under his breath, Jerry herded both of you down the stairs. “I dunno,” he grumbled. “You help someone out and they can’t follow the simplest damn rule.”
“Yeah, Joel,” you added with a playful scowl. Joel immediately looked at you as though you’d just betrayed him.
“I don’t know what you’re talkin about, young lady. You’re a woman—you should know better.”God, he sounded exactly like your father—still, you couldn’t deny that being called “young lady” was oddly flattering. Joel glanced back over his shoulder with a smug grin. You responded by giving him a light shove down the stairs.
Jerry practically threw you both out. By the time you reached the front steps, all your belongings had been dumped into a messy pile. “Jesus,” you laughed, shaking your head. “And I thought you were grumpy.” The whole thing was ridiculous.
The drive home was quiet. You were slouched against the passenger door, still exhausted from being dragged out of sleep at six in the morning. Who the hell willingly started work that early?Joel, meanwhile, looked completely unaffected. Wide awake…annoyingly so.
A cool gust of wind drifted through the cracked window, repeatedly nudging you awake whenever you started to doze off. The countryside rolled by outside in soft greens and golds. Joel’s hand hadn’t left your thigh since you’d pulled away from the manor. Neither of you said much, you were too tired. And Joel seemed perfectly content just driving with you beside him.
As you drove past and old cowboy graveyard…”Hey—remember when we had sex in that old graveyard by my old place?” you blurt out, grinning. “It was, what, our fifth date? And right after, you looked at me and said, ‘Is this the kinda weird shit I’m gonna have to put up with?’” Joel barked out a laugh at the memory, shaking his head. “Yeah,” he said. “Never thought I’d end up havin sex in a damn graveyard.”
“And yet there you were.”
“And yet there I was,” he agreed. You laughed, nudging him with your shoulder. “The funny part is that you sounded like genuinely concerned.”
“I was concerned,” Joel replied. “I was tryin to figure out what I’d gotten myself into. I felt like a fuckin weirdo.”
“Oh, please. You loved every second of it.”
Joel rolled his eyes, though the smile tugging at his lips gave him away. “Maybe,” he admitted. “Still wasn’t exactly on my list of places to have sex with my girl, but whatever.”
“Well,” you said proudly, “life with me was never boring back then—I kept ya young.”
“That much is true,” Joel said, reaching over to squeeze your hand. “Never a dull moment with you around.”
Halfway home, you stopped at a diner after your stomach’s growling became louder than the radio. You ordered pancakes and bacon. Joel ordered coffee. You stared at him. “That’s all you’re having?” You pointed at his mug. “Want some bacon?”
In your marriage, dining out with Joel was always the same. He’d order practically nothing, then spend the entire meal staring mournfully at your food because it looked better than his. “Well, if you insist, baby.” He pinched a piece of bacon from your plate and shoved it into his mouth.
“Charming,” you said with a smile.
You frowned as you walked through the front door. Joel wasn’t far behind, lugging all the bags inside. You’d offered to help, of course, but Mr. Stubborn Ass didn’t need assistance from anybody. Shrugging off your jacket, you tossed it onto the couch and started toward the stairs.“And where’re you going?”
You looked over your shoulder to find Joel standing with his hands on his hips.
“Um…back to fucking bed?” you replied. “I got woken up—very loudly—at six in the morning, dude.”
“Fair enough.” He stood there awkwardly for a second, you found it so cute.
“You can come with me if you want.” You said it the same way you’d encourage a small child—an invitation rather than a demand. Joel practically lit up. “Okay…” He hesitated. “Can I carry you again?” The question came out so shyly that it was almost painful.
You laughed. “Sure.”
Joel scooped you up effortlessly. No grunting, no dramatic sighing—no complaints about his back like most men his age would make. “Still light as a feather,” he said as he climbed the stairs. “Why you sayin you’ve put on weight? Doesn’t feel like it.”
You buried your face in his neck, laughing. Joel immediately tried to look down at you. “What?”
You shook your head. “I tried on my wedding dress.”
“Okay—and?”
“It doesn’t fit anymore.” You say it so sad that Joel adjusts you in his arms. “Baby…” His laugh rumbled through his chest. “You’ve gained muscle.”
You snorted.
“No, seriously,” he continued. “When we got married, you worked in a library, you barely moved all day. Now? Christ. You’re here, there, and everywhere. Always lifting things, always running around.”
You appreciated the sentiment. You also knew he was talking complete and utter bullshit. Still, you laughed into his neck and let him continue his nonsense.
Somehow, by the time you got into bed, you weren’t actually tired anymore. A movie was playing, a book sat open beside you and you were doomscrolling on your phone.
Joel emerged from the bathroom, stopped in the doorway, and stared at the chaos. “Baby—you’ve got, like, three different things going on here.” His finger pointed accusingly at each item. “Pick one.”
Without looking at him, you closed the book and set it on the bedside table. “There. One down.” A quiet giggle escaped you. Joel rolled his eyes and crawled into bed beside you, disappearing beneath the blankets.
For a moment he simply watched you watch videos on your phone. Then, because your mother raised you correctly, you locked the screen and turned toward him. Joel immediately took your hand. “So…” he began hopefully, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. “Yesterday. I did a good job, yeah?”
The question caught you off guard. For some reason, a tiny flicker of doubt slipped beneath your ribs. He’d gone out of his way to surprise you, you knew that—yet there was a small part of you that wondered if he was fishing for praise, collecting brownie points rather than genuinely want to make you happy, to be happy.
You glanced back down at your phone before answering. “It was amazing, Joel.”
His shoulders visibly relaxed.
“Thank you.” You opened your photo gallery. “It was a gorgeous house. Lookie.” You handed him the phone. “I took seven hundred and forty pictures of the damn thing.”
Joel barked out a laugh.
He swiped through photo after photo, you occasionally stopping him to show something you particularly loved. Pretty quickly, the conversation shifted from admiring the manor to redesigning your own home. “We could do this,” you said, zooming in on a picture. “Just knock down a wall and put in an archway.”
Joel groaned.
“And I could make the coving out of clay. Easy. Ooh, and look at this fireplace.” Another groan.
By the fifth idea, Joel had realised what was happening. You weren’t showing him inspiration photos—you were quietly assigning him projects. But despite all his complaining and groaning, he was already mentally figuring out how he’d build every single one.
a/n:. Another cliff hanger ish sorryyyyyy😈The fourth chapter (let’s talk about building), I swear will be all lovely dovey. Including the ultimate marriage test—renovating your home! Dun dun duuuuun! 🤣
@saralovesjoelmiller @pleurspetal @windsweptarmadillo @sluttyyyybabe @vickie5446
I always look forward to a piece by @joelismyserotonin 💖
Thanks so much for your continued support my lovely x
Let’s Talk About Mending- Married!Joel Part Three
Warnings: None really. Swearing. Just an average married couple trope really 👍🏻No Sarah :( Any mistakes I shall fix later.
Joel Miller hated asking for help, especially when it came to his marriage. Yet somehow, there he was, sitting on Tommy and Maria’s porch, nursing a cup of coffee that had long gone cold. Maria sat opposite him. Waiting.
Joel rubbed a hand down his face. “She said she’s fed up.”
Maria raised an eyebrow. “Those exact words?”
Joel nodded slightly. “In a way...she’s fed up with my ways.”
“Okaaay.”
“What?” Joel asked pinching his brows .
Maria took a sip of her coffee. “Well, what ways is she talking about?”
Joel glared, but kept quiet.
“This about—your sex life?”
Joel sighed heavily.
“Right, well, you don’t have to go into details but is it cause it’s like vanilla or she’s—unsatisfied maybe?” She raises a brow, not smugly but like, she’s needs him to say it.
“Says she feels like a fuck toy.”
Maria’s brows shot up. “Whoa!” She stays quiet for a moment then she has to ask—“do you treat her like that, Joel—do you think that’s all she’s there for? Cause she’s not…we’re not” Maria started to sound agitated towards her brother in law. Tommy didn’t behave this way, there’s no way Maria would let him.
Joel sighed heavily, slouching his shoulders. “I don’t think she’s in my life just for that. I don’t do it on purpose. It’s just—she’s my wife and I love her.”
“Yeah but—just cause you say you love’er doesn’t mean she feels it from you. They’re just-fucking words, Joel.”
The worst part was she was right. But somewhere over the years he’d gotten comfortable with just saying it. Predictable.
Maria leaned forward, rolling her mug between her palms. “So what are you gonna do?”
“I told her I’d make it up to her, I don’t know how yet.”
Maria smiled. “Well this ain’t about flowers or something sparkly—why buy her a reminder of a fuck up?.”
Joel shrugged. Maria laughed. “Your wife doesn’t want stuff. She wants effort…Any man can buy a gift and any man can say words.”
Joel rolled his eyes. “I put in effort.” Maria pointed at him, “then why are you here talking to me, huh?” Maria softened slightly. “Joel, when was the last time you planned something just because she’d love it?”
Silence.
“Exactly.”
Joel hated when she did that, made him answer questions without saying anything. “So what do I do?” he asked.
Maria smiled and shrugged, “I don’t know, she’s your wife, Joel.”
A few days later, Joel woke you with a little shake. “Baby.” You were less than thrilled. “What time is it?”
“Early.”
“That’s not a time.” You pinched one eye closed, ready to punch this man. You groaned into your pillow. “Joel Miller, if you woke me up just to watch fucking birds—”
“It ain’t birds. It’s a surprise.”
You groaned again when he pulled back the covers, telling you to get your ass up and to get dressed. “What about work?”
He just shrugged. “What about it?” Then he walked out the room with a cocky grin in his face.
At the foot of the stairs were two backpacks, stuffed with clothes and so on. “We camping or something?” you asked. Camping had never exactly been your favourite thing to do, but somehow you always ended up having a blast and begrudgingly thanking Joel afterwards.
“Just—shush, okay?” Joel pleaded, holding up his hands. “I’m tryin here, baby. Please, just have a little patience, yeah?”
The look on his face made your heart squeeze. You hadn’t seen that expression since the early days of your relationship—nervous, eager, trying so hard to impress you. It had worked back then, and apparently it still did. “Okay.”
It was a long drive.
Half an hour in, you’d asked, “So…where are we going? How much longer is this drive?”
“Jesus, you’re so impatient. We still got a bit of a drive.”
That had been four hours ago. Now you were practically in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by rolling countryside and scattered barns. Normally it all looked the same to you, but when you passed a tree whose branches naturally curved into the shape of a heart, your stomach dropped.
“Oh my God. Are you kidding me?” You turned to Joel, who was looking unbearably smug as he pulled up into a courtyard and infront of a manor house’s enormous double doors.
“I know a friend of a friend who’s been workin on the place,” he explained. “Owners away on vacation, so…”
Your jaw nearly hit the floor. Years ago, you’d stumbled across a website listing supposedly haunted houses and abandoned buildings. Ever since, you’d begged Joel to visit one with you. Every time he’d told you to go with your friends. What fucking friends? Maria was practically the only friend you had, and she definitely wasn’t interested in spending her weekend chasing ghosts.
This particular manor had fascinated you the most with its history. Supposedly it once belonged to some wealthy man with two wives and more children than anyone could count. According to local legend, he’d murdered his entire family over a debt, and ever since then people swore the place was haunted.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. We’re staying here? For the night?” Your eyes widened with excitement, desperately hoping Joel wasn’t pulling your leg.
“Yup.” He grinned. “Stayin the night. Well…until you get scared, anyway.”
You scoffed…that was ridiculous. You were his spooky girl. There was absolutely no way you’d be the one begging to leave. “Me? Scared? Don’t be silly. You’ll probably come outta this with more grey hairs, bucko.”
Joel laughed as you both unclicked your seatbelts. Before you could open your door, he stopped you. “Stay put.” He walked around the truck and opened it for you. “Aww, look at you, bein a gentleman.” You stepped out, stretching your limbs. Your back cracked, your shoulders popped, and at least three different joints made concerning noises.
God, you were getting old.
“May I carry madam over the threshold?” he asked, still trying to keep the mood light.
Honestly, he didn’t need to be stressing over any of this. He’d already won the moment he’d brought you here. That didn’t mean you were going to tell him that just yet.
“Sure,” you said. “Though I’ve put on weight since the last time you did this.” Joel scoffed as he bent down and effortlessly lifted you into his arms. “You still weigh nothin. What’re you talkin about, baby?” You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. The manor’s enormous doors creaked open as he carried you inside.
Then he paused. Just for a second. His eyes flicked down to your lips before returning to yours, almost like he was asking permission without saying a word.
The poor man looked so hopeful that you decided to put him out of his misery. Leaning forward, you pressed a kiss to his lips. Joel smiled immediately against your mouth, nearly stumbling over the threshold because he’d been paying more attention to you than where he was walking.
“Careful,” you murmured, laughing.
“Mhm,” he replied, clearly not listening. One hand tightened securely beneath your knees while the other shifted higher against your back. He kissed you again, slower this time, lingering for a few seconds longer. You were both smiling by the time you pulled apart.
“Joel,” you warned.
“What?”
“You’re about two seconds away from walking us into a fucking wall.”
He finally glanced up and immediately adjusted course. “See?” he said. “Got it under control.” The loud thud of his shoulder hitting the doorframe suggested otherwise.
You burst out laughing. Joel groaned while carrying you farther into the foyer.
“Don’t start. Or I’ll put you down”
“Ooo. Gentleman of the year,” you teased.
“Keep it up and I’ll put you down.” He warned again.
“You absolutely will not, Mr.”
“No,” he admitted, pulling you a little closer. “Probably not.”
The manor was enormous. Every hallway seemed to lead to another hallway. Floral wallpaper, chandeliers hung overhead, and your footsteps echoed through the silence. “This place is amazing,” you whispered.
“It smells like mold. Pretty sure that’s black mold.”
You rolled your eyes and continued deeper into the house. A few minutes later you stepped into what looked like an old library.
“Joel?” you called. No answer—you narrowed your eyes. “Joel.” Still nothing.
Then—
“RAAAH!”
You jumped a foot in the air as Joel appeared from behind a bookshelf, grinning like an idiot.
“Oh my God!”
He doubled over laughing while you smacked his arm. “Worth it,” he said. It happened again twenty minutes later. You wandered into an old dining room and found him crouched behind a curtain.
“Boo.”
“Joel.”
The smile on his face said he was far too pleased with himself.
By the third attempt, however, you’d had enough. You were studying a large portrait hanging above a fireplace when Joel suddenly emerged from behind a grandfather clock. “Boo.” You didn’t even flinch. “It’s getting old, dude.”
Joel frowned. “You didn’t even jump.”
“It’s getting old,” you repeated, glancing him up and down. “Just like you.”
“Ouch.”
“Sorry, old man.” You laughed out as you stepped closer to the portrait. The painting showed a stern looking man in an expensive black suit. His dark eyes seemed to follow you around the room no matter where you stood. “That’s him,” you murmured.
“The guy from the story?”
“Yep.”
Joel moved beside you, slipping a hand into yours. Up close, the man’s face somehow looked even colder. The artist had captured every detail—the sharp jaw, the thin mouth, the expression that seemed permanently stuck somewhere between anger and disappointment.
“Definitely murdered somebody,” Joel said. You barked out a laugh. “You can’t just look at someone and know that.”
“Sure I can—see.” He pointed at the portrait “look at him.”
You looked. The painted man looked back. “…Okay, fair. Fucking creepy.”
For a moment neither of you spoke. The manor creaked somewhere overhead. A distant thump echoed from another floor. You immediately straightened, Joel’s eyebrows rose. “Still not scared?” You straighten your shoulders. “Not even a little.”
Another creak echoed through the house and you quietly stepped a little closer to him, linking his arm.
“Not. A. Word.”
Joel smiled. “Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.”
You laughed more that day than you had in weeks and every time you looked at Joel, he looked relieved—like he was finally seeing you enjoy yourself again. It had taken you nearly two hours to explore the whole place and by the time the clock chimed 4 o’clock—your legs ached, your cheeks hurt from smiling…and Joel looked exhausted.
You kicked your boots off by the door.
“Well?” Joel asked cautiously.
“Well what?”
“Is it okay?”
You stared. “Okay? This is more than okay.” Joel shifted awkwardly, your expression softened. “Joel—this is perfect.”
“Yeah?” The tension visibly left his shoulders “Good.”
You stepped closer and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.” His ears immediately turned red, “yeah, well…”
You grinned. “You’re adorable.”
“Don’t start.”
Later, standing in the kitchen, you discovered another surprise. Joel had bought all the food to make a meal, he laid out across the counter as you still can’t believe your eyes.
Tomatoes. Cheese. Pasta sheets. Ground beef.
You blinked. “We having Lasagna?”
Joel nodded. “Thought we’d make it together.”You burst out laughing. “Together? You hate people being in our kitchen—you don’t even let me in the kitchen.”
“I don’t hate it.” He says defensively like a stubborn kid.
“Oh. You absolutely do.”
Joel pointed a wooden spoon at you. “I tolerate you, but everyone else can kiss my ass.”
“How romantic and mighty big of ya.”
Ten minutes later you were both elbow-deep in preparation. Joel was chopping onions—aggressively and you were responsible for the sauce…a responsibility you took very seriously, even though you kept scooping some out…to test it of course.
“If you keep “testing” it, there’ll be none left for the actual meal. Must you do that?
“Yup.”
“You’re a menace.” He grins as he carries on chopping. You just shrug. “You married me.”
Joel couldn’t argue with that.
You and Joel both patted your bellies, feeling so stuffed. “My God, that was fuckin delicious. Go me.” You gave your stomach another satisfied pat.
“Go me?” Joel scoffed. “You hardly did anything. You were too busy eatin the damn sauce and cheese.” You waved him off, scrunching up your face. “Oh, shush. That was my starter.” Joel laughed, letting his head fall back dramatically, defeated by the enormous meal he’d just demolished. “I need to be comfy,” he groaned. “Don’t wanna slip into a food coma sittin on this flimsy chair.”
It was honestly pretty funny seeing his broad frame squeezed into one of the homes tiny chairs. The place belonged to a widow who clearly had a fondness for small furniture. Even the bedroom looked like something out of a dollhouse. She must be a very petite woman. Joel, meanwhile, looked like a giant. One wrong shift of his weight and you were half convinced the chair would surrender beneath him.
The kitchen looked like a war zone. There was flour on the counter, cheese scattered on the floor. You leaned back against the counter, Joel stood beside you. For a while neither of you spoke, the place felt warm. Comfortable. You slipped your hand into his. Joel immediately squeezed it. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. You looked at him. “For what?”
“For gettin lazy.”
The honesty caught you off guard. Joel stared at sink. “I don’t what happened. I guess somewhere along the line I stopped trying as hard.”
You squeezed his hand back. “Well, you tried today—and fuckin succeeded I might add.”
“Yeah?”
“And it meant a lot.”
A small smile appeared beneath his beard, the one he saved for moments that mattered. Not flashy, just real. Joel turned and pressed a kiss to your forehead. And for the first time in a while, neither of you felt like there was anything left unsaid.
The kitchen was spotless by the time you were done—at least, spotless by Joel’s standards. Then it was off to the movie theatre. Yes, an actual movie theatre. It was small, but charming. A large screen dominated one wall, while a long red velvet couch stretched across the room. The widow clearly enjoyed watching films in comfort and style.
“Well,” Joel said as he dropped onto the couch, “at least I can fit on this.” You laughed and settled beside him.
Soon, the two of you were surrounded by booze, snacks, and naturally—a horror movie. It was one of those old Hollywood B-movies, filled with dramatic music, bad acting, and jump scenes that somehow still worked. A particularly sudden moment on screen made you grab Joel’s arm. “Thought you weren’t scared, spooky lady,” he teased. You scoffed. “I’m allowed to be scared of a movie, especially one I haven’t seen before.” You gestured toward the screen. “This is old school. Probably older than you.” Joel gave you a look. You nudged his chest and settled back against him before he could argue.
As the film rolled on, the room grew quieter. The warmth of the couch, the food, the drinks, and Joel’s steady presence beside you all worked together until your eyelids became impossible to keep open.
By the time the credits started rolling, you were fast asleep, your head resting against his shoulder, breathing soft and even. Joel carefully shifted, moving with surprising delicacy for a man his size—making sure not to wake you, he slipped an arm beneath your knees and another around your back before lifting you effortlessly into his arms.
The friend of a friend who’s working on the manor had specifically warned Joel not to sleep in the main bedroom. Joel’s response to that was simple…screw that-only the best for his woman. He carried you upstairs and nudged the bedroom door open with his shoulder…then he stopped, the bed was absurdly small. For a moment, Joel just stared at it, the widow must be half his size. Shaking his head, he crossed the room and gently laid you down. You stirred slightly, mumbling something, but never woke.
Joel stripped down to his boxers, tossing his shirt and pants onto a nearby chair before carefully climbing into the cramped bed behind you. It was a tight fit. Still, he wrapped an arm around your waist and gently pulled you closer until your back rested against his warm chest. You instinctively relaxed into him.
Joel buried his face briefly in your hair, breathing in the familiar scent of you. The corners of his mouth twitched into a small smile. Comfortable at last, he settled deeper into the mattress, holding you close as sleep gradually claimed him too.
You and Joel were woken by a loud voice. “What the fuck, Joel?!” Jerry—Joel’s friend of a friend—had arrived early to start work and immediately found the two of you sprawled out in the bed. “I fuckin told you not to sleep in here. Jesus Christ, man.” You and Joel jerked awake. Instinctively, you scrambled to cover yourself, despite still being fully clothed. Beside you, Joel was laughing so hard he had a hand on his stomach.
“Aw, c’mon, Jerry. It ain’t that big a deal.”
Jerry clearly disagreed. He stood there with his arms folded while you and Joel hurriedly gathered your things. It felt like two teenagers getting caught and scolded by a deeply disappointed parent.
Muttering under his breath, Jerry herded both of you down the stairs. “I dunno,” he grumbled. “You help someone out and they can’t follow the simplest damn rule.”
“Yeah, Joel,” you added with a playful scowl. Joel immediately looked at you as though you’d just betrayed him.
“I don’t know what you’re talkin about, young lady. You’re a woman—you should know better.”God, he sounded exactly like your father—still, you couldn’t deny that being called “young lady” was oddly flattering. Joel glanced back over his shoulder with a smug grin. You responded by giving him a light shove down the stairs.
Jerry practically threw you both out. By the time you reached the front steps, all your belongings had been dumped into a messy pile. “Jesus,” you laughed, shaking your head. “And I thought you were grumpy.” The whole thing was ridiculous.
The drive home was quiet. You were slouched against the passenger door, still exhausted from being dragged out of sleep at six in the morning. Who the hell willingly started work that early?Joel, meanwhile, looked completely unaffected. Wide awake…annoyingly so.
A cool gust of wind drifted through the cracked window, repeatedly nudging you awake whenever you started to doze off. The countryside rolled by outside in soft greens and golds. Joel’s hand hadn’t left your thigh since you’d pulled away from the manor. Neither of you said much, you were too tired. And Joel seemed perfectly content just driving with you beside him.
As you drove past and old cowboy graveyard…”Hey—remember when we had sex in that old graveyard by my old place?” you blurt out, grinning. “It was, what, our fifth date? And right after, you looked at me and said, ‘Is this the kinda weird shit I’m gonna have to put up with?’” Joel barked out a laugh at the memory, shaking his head. “Yeah,” he said. “Never thought I’d end up havin sex in a damn graveyard.”
“And yet there you were.”
“And yet there I was,” he agreed. You laughed, nudging him with your shoulder. “The funny part is that you sounded like genuinely concerned.”
“I was concerned,” Joel replied. “I was tryin to figure out what I’d gotten myself into. I felt like a fuckin weirdo.”
“Oh, please. You loved every second of it.”
Joel rolled his eyes, though the smile tugging at his lips gave him away. “Maybe,” he admitted. “Still wasn’t exactly on my list of places to have sex with my girl, but whatever.”
“Well,” you said proudly, “life with me was never boring back then—I kept ya young.”
“That much is true,” Joel said, reaching over to squeeze your hand. “Never a dull moment with you around.”
Halfway home, you stopped at a diner after your stomach’s growling became louder than the radio. You ordered pancakes and bacon. Joel ordered coffee. You stared at him. “That’s all you’re having?” You pointed at his mug. “Want some bacon?”
In your marriage, dining out with Joel was always the same. He’d order practically nothing, then spend the entire meal staring mournfully at your food because it looked better than his. “Well, if you insist, baby.” He pinched a piece of bacon from your plate and shoved it into his mouth.
“Charming,” you said with a smile.
You frowned as you walked through the front door. Joel wasn’t far behind, lugging all the bags inside. You’d offered to help, of course, but Mr. Stubborn Ass didn’t need assistance from anybody. Shrugging off your jacket, you tossed it onto the couch and started toward the stairs.“And where’re you going?”
You looked over your shoulder to find Joel standing with his hands on his hips.
“Um…back to fucking bed?” you replied. “I got woken up—very loudly—at six in the morning, dude.”
“Fair enough.” He stood there awkwardly for a second, you found it so cute.
“You can come with me if you want.” You said it the same way you’d encourage a small child—an invitation rather than a demand. Joel practically lit up. “Okay…” He hesitated. “Can I carry you again?” The question came out so shyly that it was almost painful.
You laughed. “Sure.”
Joel scooped you up effortlessly. No grunting, no dramatic sighing—no complaints about his back like most men his age would make. “Still light as a feather,” he said as he climbed the stairs. “Why you sayin you’ve put on weight? Doesn’t feel like it.”
You buried your face in his neck, laughing. Joel immediately tried to look down at you. “What?”
You shook your head. “I tried on my wedding dress.”
“Okay—and?”
“It doesn’t fit anymore.” You say it so sad that Joel adjusts you in his arms. “Baby…” His laugh rumbled through his chest. “You’ve gained muscle.”
You snorted.
“No, seriously,” he continued. “When we got married, you worked in a library, you barely moved all day. Now? Christ. You’re here, there, and everywhere. Always lifting things, always running around.”
You appreciated the sentiment. You also knew he was talking complete and utter bullshit. Still, you laughed into his neck and let him continue his nonsense.
Somehow, by the time you got into bed, you weren’t actually tired anymore. A movie was playing, a book sat open beside you and you were doomscrolling on your phone.
Joel emerged from the bathroom, stopped in the doorway, and stared at the chaos. “Baby—you’ve got, like, three different things going on here.” His finger pointed accusingly at each item. “Pick one.”
Without looking at him, you closed the book and set it on the bedside table. “There. One down.” A quiet giggle escaped you. Joel rolled his eyes and crawled into bed beside you, disappearing beneath the blankets.
For a moment he simply watched you watch videos on your phone. Then, because your mother raised you correctly, you locked the screen and turned toward him. Joel immediately took your hand. “So…” he began hopefully, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. “Yesterday. I did a good job, yeah?”
The question caught you off guard. For some reason, a tiny flicker of doubt slipped beneath your ribs. He’d gone out of his way to surprise you, you knew that—yet there was a small part of you that wondered if he was fishing for praise, collecting brownie points rather than genuinely want to make you happy, to be happy.
You glanced back down at your phone before answering. “It was amazing, Joel.”
His shoulders visibly relaxed.
“Thank you.” You opened your photo gallery. “It was a gorgeous house. Lookie.” You handed him the phone. “I took seven hundred and forty pictures of the damn thing.”
Joel barked out a laugh.
He swiped through photo after photo, you occasionally stopping him to show something you particularly loved. Pretty quickly, the conversation shifted from admiring the manor to redesigning your own home. “We could do this,” you said, zooming in on a picture. “Just knock down a wall and put in an archway.”
Joel groaned.
“And I could make the coving out of clay. Easy. Ooh, and look at this fireplace.” Another groan.
By the fifth idea, Joel had realised what was happening. You weren’t showing him inspiration photos—you were quietly assigning him projects. But despite all his complaining and groaning, he was already mentally figuring out how he’d build every single one.
a/n:. Another cliff hanger ish sorryyyyyy😈The fourth chapter (let’s talk about building), I swear will be all lovely dovey. Including the ultimate marriage test—renovating your home! Dun dun duuuuun! 🤣
@saralovesjoelmiller @pleurspetal @windsweptarmadillo @sluttyyyybabe @vickie5446
which heart did you get when you liked this post?
rainbow flag
lesbian flag
gay flag
bisexual flag
pansexual flag
asexual flag
aromantic flag
transgender flag
non binary flag
intersex flag
