ᴍᴜʟᴛɪғᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇ | ᴏʟᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴇᴡ ғɪᴄs ғʀᴏᴍ ᴍʏ ɴᴏᴛᴇs

A sun! ( grumpy!joel x sunshine! fem!reader

Summary: even bitter coffee needs sugar

Warning: IT'S JOEL MILLER, LET'S GOOOOOO, soft spot, grumpy joel, fluff, love in the air, middle age reader ( cuz I think middle age reader in Joel Miller tag is quite rare),

based on this request, tq!

As usual, I'm sorry if there are any wrong sentences or typos or grammatical mistakes, please forgive me and again English is not my first language, so I try to improve my language and writing in this way.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The world had ended, but somehow, you hadn't lost your smile.

Joel never understood it. Couldn't. Wouldn't.

You joined the group in Jackson three months ago, bright-eyed and kind, laughing like the world hadn't turned to shit. You helped the older folks fix their roofs. You braided the little girls' hair on the porch. You brought Joel coffee when you saw him sulking by the gate, muttering a gruff, "Mornin'," like the word tasted bitter on his tongue.

And still, you smiled at him every time.

"You're like a damn sunflower," he muttered one day, when you plopped down beside him during a patrol break, offering him half a sandwich.

You just grinned. "Sunflowers are nice. I'll take that as a compliment."

He grunted. It wasn't meant to be one.

It wasn't that Joel didn't like you. That would've been easier.

He respects you, sure. You were useful. Smart. Could handle yourself out there. But you were also soft — not in a weak way — in a gentle way. And Joel didn't know what the hell to do with gentle people anymore.

Because gentle people died.

And you... you were always checking in on him. Bringing him peaches from the trade post. Leaving little folded notes under his door like "Don't forget it's your turn for patrol Thursday :)" with a damn smiley face.

He didn't throw them away.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

One night, there was a bad snowstorm. The power flickered in and out. Joel had just finished patching up a gap in the barn roof when he heard the knock on his door.

It was you, bundled in a coat too big for your frame, holding a thermos in your hands.

"Hot cocoa," you said, like that explained everything. "Figured you might not have done anything."

He stared at you, brow furrowed. "The hell makes you think I drink cocoa?"

You shrugged. "Figured even grumpy men need warmth sometimes."

And that damn smile again.

Joel should've turned you away. Said thanks and shut the door. But instead, he stepped aside.

"You got gloves on?" he asked, grumbling. "Storm's bad."

"I do." You held up your mittened hands. "See?"

He grunted. You walked in, brought the smell of cinnamon and snowflakes with you. He hated how it softened the edges of his house. Hated how your voice made the place feel lived in.

He didn't tell you to leave.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You started joining his patrols more often.

"I can partner with someone else," you offered once, eyes gentle, sensing his tension.

Joel shook his head. "I trust you."

You blinked, stunned. "You do?"

He gave a slow nod. "You don't talk much while we're out. Don't try to make small talk when clickers are nearby. That's smart."

You smiled softly. "You notice those things?"

"Course I do," he muttered, looking away. "Don't mean I like talkin' 'bout it."

You didn't push. You never pushed.

One night, after a long day of clearing out an abandoned cabin, you sat beside the fire at the edge of Jackson's wall, your knees bumping his.

You watched the stars. He watched you.

"Why are you always so kind?" he asked suddenly, voice rough.

You looked at him with that softness that always made his chest ache. "Because this world is cruel enough without me adding to it."

He didn't respond, just stared at the flames.

Then you added, quieter, "And because I think you need someone to be kind to you."

Joel felt the words hit like a sledgehammer. No one had said something like that to him since... since Sarah. Since Tess.

And now you.

He turned away, but you didn't miss the way his pinky finger hooked around yours.

He didn't kiss you that night. Didn't say much. Just let your hand rest near him, let your warmth seep into his bones. And when you stood to leave, he followed you to your door, made sure you got in safely, muttered something about "damn snowbanks" being too slippery.

The next morning, you found a folded note outside your door.

It said, "Brought you coffee. It's probably cold. Still counts."
Signed with a rough little scribble.

You smiled.

And Joel, watching from the gate with a scowl that didn't quite reach his eyes, felt his chest warm.

Because in this broken, bitter world, he'd found something worth protecting again.

You.

His sunshine.
His soft spot.