joelsdreamer

[joelsdreamer]

Sorry I haven't uploaded part 2 of One Last Breath 🙏🙏 I've been busy with work & my birthday is this Sunday and I have multiple plans going on this weekend and I'm almost certain next week. I've been trying to get to my laptop to write but I just cant find time 😔 I'm sure it will be finished by Tuesday next week!

[joelsdreamer]

My Ethel Cain vinyl came and I just had to.

[joelsdreamer]

found something in my notes and ummm i’m obsessed ?

💡 catfish Joel Miller who uses photos of his younger self (like 30-35) on a dating site to pick up young women. When you come over to his house, you see that he’s more likely in his late 50s or early 60s, but he acts innocent and lures you in for a friendly dinner and a talk.

“Darlin’, I promise I didn’t expect you to be that young either! Sarah, my baby girl set up this thing, said she was tired of seeing her old man sad an’ miserable. Guess she didn’t think I was mighty attractive anymore.” He says with a sad chuckle. You feel bad for the man, your heart clenching. He was still definitely handsome. His stomach slightly more visible, hair heavily streaked with greys, crows feet prominent. But he still got it, in a silver fox kind of way. “You drove all the way here just to be disappointed, I can’t tell you how-“

“I’m not disappointed,” you interrupt quickly, your hand squeezing his forearm in a reassuring gesture. “Just surprised, but that’s not a bad thing. We both unknowingly catfished each other.”

“Catfish? Ain’t that a type of fish?”

“No,” you laughed lightheartedly, the man was adorable, “it’s when you… You know what, no matter, it’s not important.”

“I want to make it up to you before you go. I made us a nice dinner when I thought you were about thirty years older,” Joel tightened his lips and gave you an apologetic smile. “It ain’t catfish, just a steak, but I swear on my mama it’s good.”

Your stomach growled in response, and your hand jumped to it as if trying to silence the sound.

“Well, I don’t see any harm in that,” you smile and step inside his house. The warm light makes everything look homey, and a hardwood floor creaks gently under you. “It was quite a long drive.”

“Feel at home, sweetheart, I’ll just grab something real quick.”

You didn’t see the way his eyes lingered on the exposed skin of the back of your thighs, his tongue flicking over his lower lip in anticipation.

[joelsdreamer]

This is just an excuse to post this beautiful edit I found tbh....

BUT!!!! my requests/asks are open for anybody to submit! I encourage yall to!

[joelsdreamer]

One last breath

Dbf!joel x fem!reader

- Reader is in their 20s, Joel is 52, no specified weight or race. (The reader is afab.)

Summary: Back at your dad’s trailer for a long, quiet summer, you meet Joel—divorced, distant, and living two doors down with tired eyes and a past he doesn’t talk about. The nights are slow, the air is thick, and somehow, without meaning to, you start finding each other in the quiet.

A/n- been contemplating posting this 🙏

Part One: Static

Your dad’s trailer hasn’t changed. 

 Still the same rusted tin siding, still that dent in the front step from when you tripped on your bike at age nine. Inside, the AC rattles like it’s fighting for its life, and the air smells like stale beer, Pine-Sol, and the faint trace of motor oil. 

You drop your duffel in your old room. There’s still a crooked poster of a band you haven’t listened to in years, curling at the corners. Still the dusty bookshelf with two Goosebumps paperbacks and a cracked snow globe from Dollywood. You sit on the edge of the bed and breathe in slowly. 

It’s strange being back. Like slipping into clothes that almost fit. 

“Hungry?” your dad asks from the kitchen. 

 You glance at the clock. 3:17 p.m. “Not really.” 

 “Suit yourself,” he says, cracking open a can of chili like it's a gourmet meal. 

He’s not a bad dad. Just… weathered. Like the rest of this town. Like the porch swing out front that groans every time someone sits down. 

You step outside instead. The air is thick and lazy, and the sun is high and merciless. The dirt lot is quiet except for the distant hum of cicadas and the occasional dog bark from a few trailers down. 

That’s when you see him. 

You don’t know he’s him yet—Joel. 

 You just see a man two trailers down, fiddling with something under the hood of an old truck. He’s wearing a faded t-shirt, sleeves pushed up, grease on his hands and forearms. His posture is tired in that way men get when they’ve been carrying too much for too long. 

Your dad wanders out, beer in hand. “That’s Joel,” he says like you asked. “Moved in a few months ago. Been helping me out at the shop. Handy with just about everything. Keeps to himself.” 

You squint across the way. Joel stands up, wipes his hands on a rag, doesn’t look your way. 

“Divorced?” you ask, tone light. 

 Your dad side-eyes you. “That obvious, huh?” 

 You shrug. “Has the look.” 

You don’t talk to him that day. You just watch. He disappears inside his trailer not long after. 

But something about him lingers. 

The days melt into each other like the heat—slow and sticky. Your dad works most mornings, leaving you with a fridge of lunch meat, expired eggs, and half a loaf of white bread. You spend the afternoons out back, feet dipped in a sun-warmed kiddie pool that’s definitely seen better summers, reading half a page at a time before zoning out and just staring at the sky. 

You see Joel often. Never up close. 

 He walks his trash out at the same time every evening, like clockwork. He fixes things. Always something—his trailer door, a sagging gutter, the radio in his truck. He doesn’t notice you watching. Or maybe he does and just doesn’t say anything. 

One night your dad invites him over for dinner. You’re elbow-deep in boxed mac & cheese when the knock comes. 

 You hear them exchange greetings—Joel’s voice is deeper than you expected, with that Texas lilt that sounds like the edge of a drawl. 

And then you see him. 

He’s taller than he looked from afar. Broader, too. The kind of broad that comes from doing hard things, not lifting weights at a gym. His beard is scruffier than clean, his eyes dark, tired. 

“Hey,” he says when your dad gestures toward you. 

 You nod. “Hi.” 

 That’s it. 

You make yourself scarce after dinner. Sit out on the front steps while they talk about engine belts and the parts order that never came in. The sky is pink with heat and dusk. Joel’s laugh, rare and low, drifts out behind you. 

You don’t officially meet him until the power goes out. 

It’s late—maybe close to midnight. You’re lying on top of your sheets, sweat sticking to your spine, when everything goes black. The fan dies, the AC gives up with a whine, and the trailer goes still. 

You step outside barefoot, the screen door creaking loud in the silence. 

The trailer park is dipped in that kind of darkness that feels sacred. Moonlight and heat lightning off in the distance. You spot a soft glow a few trailers down—Joel, sitting on his steps with a flashlight lantern, cigarette between his fingers. 

He sees you. Nods toward the empty spot next to him. Doesn’t say anything. 

You walk over. Slowly. 

 You don’t know why you go. 

 Maybe because the dark feels too big to sit in alone. 

 Maybe because you’re tired of trying to ignore him. 

He passes you the lantern. You cradle it in your lap like it’s precious. 

“Don’t like storms?” he asks, voice soft. 

 You shake your head. “Don’t like the quiet afterward.” 

 He hums. “Sometimes that’s the worst part.” 

You sit together for a long time, neither of you speaking. 

His knee brushes yours. You don’t move. 

 He doesn’t either. 

“Your dad says you’re just here for the summer,” he says eventually. 

 You nod. “Needed a reset.” 

 “Yeah,” he says, exhaling smoke. “I know how that goes.” 

He doesn’t offer more than that, and you don’t press. 

 But something clicks quietly into place. 

Not closeness. Not yet. 

 Just recognition. 

Like maybe you’re both just trying to find a version of yourself you haven’t met yet. 

 And maybe it’s okay if you take your time. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A/n- let me know if you want to be on the tag list for part II !

[joelsdreamer]

Fic WIP!

Dont mind the summary being messy its just a rough draft 🙏😔

[joelsdreamer]

Imagine...

Coming back to the park during the summer to visit your father only to be met with a recently divorced new tenant who seems to be very infatuated with you...

[joelsdreamer]