Old Men Lovers Rise Up. Be Proud Of Who You Are

old men lovers rise up. be proud of who you are 🤘

bro ur interupting my "pacing around pointlessly and listening to music" time can u not

no matter how terrible my day is. i can always end my day in bed imagining fictional characters making out sloppy style and fucking raw. and that's beautiful. there's some good in this world mister frodo and it's worth fighting for

in another universe hosea walked abigail down the aisle when she married john

you know what they say about the night changing

In Sickness and in Health, & Til Death Do Us Part.

A story of a broken man who finds the light.

Or

Joel finds the light in you, and together, you build a life in Jackson. Joel gets the big family he's always wanted, and the two of you navigate the progress of aging - the good, bad and ugly. For better or for worse.

Warnings: major character deaths due to natural causes of old age. Joel lives to be a very old man. Brief mentions of Smut, breeding kink and lil sprinkle of oldman Joel smut (man's a dog), mention of a heart attack, mentions of dementia/aggressive episode with a knife (no one is harmed). HAPPY ENDING I PROMISE.

I don't even know if anyone will fuck with this honestly. I know it isn't everyone's cup of tea but I wanted to challenge myself, and now I'm crying.

When Joel came into your life, it was a sunny summer day at Jackson's farmers market. You had a booth of tallows, ointments, lotions and everything in between. Your back turned to grab some some supplies, you sensed a presence at your booth. Turning around, eyes wide, you are greeted by the larger and hunkier of the Miller brother's, eating one of your lotion samples.

"Oh nonononon! Tha-that's lotion!".

Just as you reach for him, his face turns into a grimace, spitting out the tester into the cloth you shove in his face.

"Well don't I feel like a dumbass. Sorry darlin', thought it was yogurt or somethin'. Smelled so damn good", he chuckles. You reach your hand out and it's instantly engulfed by his. You introduce yourself.

"Name's Joel, Joel Miller".

"Well Joel Miller, what can I help you with? I've got tallow, lotions, ointments".

He looks around the wide range of products before zeroing in on a small jar of cream. "What's this for?", he picks it up.

"Ahh", you coo. "That's my personal favorite. It's for dry hands. Made from beef tallow, beeswax, coconut oil and a dash of peppermint oil to sooth any aches. Don't touch your face with it though!".

"Alright. Gonna give this a try. How much 's it?".

"Oh! Don't worry. It's on me today. Let me know if you like it! Ill be here every Sunday", you beam at him.

"Alright, I'll see ya around", he gives a coy smile.

He comes every single Sunday and buys the same cream. Every time he comes, he lingers a little longer for conversation until he asks you for coffee.

Coffee dates turn into house visits, which turn into overnight stays. Hushed moans and tangled limbs and unruly hair. He whispers in your ear.

Live with me.

For the first time since the outbreak, he thinks he's found peace. He finds it in the scent of your hair, your hands, the mouth of your womb, your cooking, your stubbornness, the way you litter the house with wildflowers on laundry day. His heart is full, and he knows he can't live without you.

Marry me, he moans in your mouth at the peak of his climax. Yes, yes, yes when you reach yours.

You marry at golden hour in a field of wildflowers with your favorite people at your side and dance the night away under the stars and hanging lights. Tears are in his eyes as you sing with your gentle soprano -

You're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you

You'd be like Heaven to touch

I wanna hold you so much

At long last love has arrived

And I thank God I'm alive

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off you

That night he takes his time undressing you with a fever raging through him and hunger in his eyes. He makes love to you deep and slow, caressing your hair from your face and wiping the tears from your eyes.

Put a baby in me, you gasp.

Yea? S' what you want? Put one in ya right now. Gotta be real with me baby.

"I-I want a family Joel. Wanna have your babies - fuck", you whimper.

He makes love to you for hours until sunrise and you are spent, sticky and full of your husbands spend. And as he promised, you are pregnant 6 weeks later.

Over the course of 5 years, he gifts you with 3 babies. Jolene, Jack and Ellie. And, life is very, very busy. Joel picks up extra work to collect things for the family, you stay at home and take care of the babies. It works for the both of you. Joel is such a good father. Patient, attentive, firm when he needs to be, knows how to have fun and most importantly, he loves hard.

Over the years they need less and less of you as they grow into independent adults, eventually leaving their nest to fly on their own. You and Joel are well into your 60's now, adjusting to living life as empty nesters. You didn't take it too well, but Joel was reassuring.

Baby, they gotta live on their own at some point, they are like five minutes away. We'll pick up new hobbies and make new memories with each other, he soothes.

You take up painting, he takes up woodworking again. Your love, just as strong as the day you met. All this time on your hands leads to other things you didn't have much time for before. He makes love in every room of the house.

Jesus Joel, you're gonna kill me. My hips ain't as flexible as they used to be. He chuckles in your ear.

Feel like I'm young all over again. You drive me mad woman, you know that? Pump ya full of more babies if I could. And you laugh in his mouth.

He continues to thrust but they slow to a stop. You look up at his face and see it contorted in pain.

Joel? Joel!? Baby, what's wrong?

He collapses on the bed, you shoot up to get your robe and shake him but he doesn't respond. You run out of the house and scream for help.

He is transported to the infirmary and stabilized. Your kids meet you in a panic when they heard what happened. Dr. Roberts comes out to greet you all.

"He's stable and doin' fine, but he needs to get some rest. I believe he suffered a mild heart attack. He should be able to go home in a week, but on bed rest for at least another week. No sexual activity until I clear him good to go".

"Is that how he had a heart attack? You guys were fucking?", Ellie whispered.

"Ellie!", you scolded.

"That's fucking gross man".

Joel never fully recovered from that. Ten years after his episode, his gait more slumped and slower, he had a hard time walking long distances without getting short of breath. He eventually found woodworking to be nearly impossible with the arthritis in his hands. The change in his health really brought him down. He hardly left the house. It broke your heart to see him lose his spark, but you found hope when you found out that Jolene became pregnant.

Joel, we're goin' to be grandparents!

Baby Sarah came, named after his first love of his life, his first daughter. She looked so much like her, he though. What a blessing.

As she grew, so did his spark for life again. He would crawl on the floor with her, read her stories, talk about his life before the outbreak, sing to her, rock her in his rocking chair until the both of them were sound asleep. She gave him a purpose, a reason to continue on. The apple of her papa's eye.

Joel was pushing 85, with three living children, five grandchildren, and one great grandchild. That is all he ever wanted in life, to live a simple life and have a big family. Every Sunday they come to your house to have dinner. He comes up behind you, his cane bumping into your leg and a shaky arm coming around your shoulder.

We did good mama, didn't we?

Yes we did baby.

Joel had been showing signs of physical decline over the past few decades, which is understandable given his vigorous physical stress throughout the outbreak, but now he was showing signs of cognitive decline. It started with him regularly asking what day it was, what was for dinner when you already told him, continuous reminders for things he normally wouldn't forget. Nothing could prepare you for the day when he forgot who you were.

You woke up one morning to find your bed empty and his cane on the ground. It wasn't like him to leave his cane. You knew something was wrong, and just as suspected, you go down stairs to find an empty house and the door wide open.

You gather your children and some people from the community to search for him. Everyone was aware of his advanced stage of dementia and were concerned for his safety. After looking through town, you eventually find him in the field with a knife.

You approach him slowly, hands in front of you. "Joel, baby, it's me. Put the knife down baby, you are okay".

"Get the hell away! Bunch o' infected pieces of shit, I'll gut ya all to hell before you get me or Tommy", he seethed, weakly thrashing his knife in the direction of the crowd.

Tommy passed away from pneumonia two years ago, he is one of the only people Joel remembers.

"Joel, Tommy is waiting for you back at the ranch. Waitin' for you to come have lunch with him. We are helpers on the ranch, we'll take ya to him", you lie. He instantly surrenders.

His dementia is advanced to the point where he has to be watched 24/7. Being around his grandchildren are about the only thing that keeps him settled and out of aggressive episodes. Ellie catches him watching you while you prepare dinner.

"She's a pretty lady, think she'd go out for dinner with me?", Joel nudges Ellie's arm.

Ellie gives a slight smile, "Yeah, how could she not?", she gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

He doesn't remember your name, he doesn't remember that you are his wife, but there is something about your presence that he finds comforting. Something about the confidence in the way you are around him makes him feel safe.

Another year goes by, another summer. Joel eventually forgets how to eat, how to drink, leading him to complete bed rest and complete loss of independence, which leads to failure to thrive and ultimately his death.

Family gather in the house, taking turns caring for him to give you breaks. He is mostly incoherent with the odd grunt. It'll be any day, any hour, any moment before he slips away from the waking world. You ache for your husband, but you don't want to see him suffer, stuck in-between the summer sun and the claws of death.

Golden hour fills the room with its warmth. You go to his bedside to wipe a wet cloth along his dry lips, almost robotic in the way you do it, it's routine. What happens next startles you in your place. He hums a tune, barely audible, but you recognize it. Of course you do.

You're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you

You'd be like Heaven to touch

I wanna hold you so much

At long last love has arrived

And I thank God I'm alive

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off you

You stand there and hold your breath, too afraid to move and disrupt the sliver of Joel that haven't seen in a long time. The next moment punches the air out of your lungs.

There's my sweet girl.

He hadn't called you that in years. His eyes are tired, but filled with warmth and love. There's your Joel.

J-Joel? Do you- do you remember me? You are cautious in your tone, like trying not to scare a baby deer away.

'Course I remember you. Watchin' you in this light.. got me thinkin' of the day I married you. Just as beautiful as the first day I laid my eyes on ya. C'mere sweetheart, I'm tired. Lay with me for a while?

You carefully scoot in bed under his covers and place your hear on his chest, hand over his heart, weathered fingers entwined with each others.

Thought I lost you Joel.

I'm here, and I'll find you, always. I love you. So tired, gotta... sleep.

You are crying silently, squeezing his hand in yours.

I love you too baby.

You are woken up by your three children sitting around you, Ellie running her fingers through your hair.

Hey mama.

You know. You know by the absence of his warmth, you know by the tone of her voice, that Joel is gone.

It doesn't feel the same, it won't ever feel the same as life goes on. The sun still shines, the flowers still bloom, people still go about their day. You go on for your family and continue to carry on with family traditions, and you adapt. Days turn to months, months into years until you end up where he lay, ill and tired but surrounded with so much love.

Your children fret at your bedside, cleaning up, helping feed you. Pushing the cup of water away, you say with finality.

Don't fret over me, my babies. Just let me rest a while, just for a little while. I'm so tired today. I love yous, now go on, and tend some of your own business.

Your children are no fools, they see the look in your eyes and know what that means, but they respect your wishes and give you space.

You close your eyes and let the warm sun and chirping birds of Jackson carry you away to a place of bliss. A place with no pain, where you feel light and free. A place all too familiar when you run your soft and supple fingers through the wildflowers around you. A place where you feel a familiar warm and rough hand thread their fingers through yours.

And he's there before your eyes. Tall, handsome with chocolate eyes and rich brown hair, gold skin, and the warmest smile you'd ever seen.

Joel, you found me.

He wraps his arms around you and brings his forehead to yours.

Always. I'll always find you.