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chaotic-iguana · 9 months

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cruel love | twisted love ii

dark! joel x f! reader

summary: thank you to @cavillscurls for her absolutely AMAZING ideas. mya is the only reason this exists. sorry it took so long babe | wordcount: 2.1k | warnings: survivalism, dark!joel, stockholm syndrome, falling in love with an abuser. terrible relationship, i do NOT condone this. please remember you’re responsible for the media you consume. A/N: please be warned that this is an extremely heavy fic involving a character falling in love with her abuser/rapist. consume at your own discretion.

There was something seriously wrong with you.

Joel would lead - and like a broken, lovesick little puppy - you would follow. His bad days made you tremble; left you aching and bruised and broken on the floor of forests you’d never see again. And yet, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to hate him. No, all you really wanted was for him to break you, then put you back together. For him to press his lips to your skin with tenderness rather than the desperation of a parched man drinking water. Plundering.

Until that day.

It was a path neither of you had so much as seen before, let alone scoped out. The sun had justdipped below the horizon, shadows creeping back in the cover of night. The clicking went unheard until it was from right behind you. The next few moments passed by in a blur - the reek of fear, sweat and other folding into each other with such dexterity you couldn’t distinguish between the figures before you. Until Joel moved; a flurry of limbs and movement that your vision struggled to keep up with.

It took you a second to get your bearings - you had never been this close before, infected snarling inches away from your neck. Heartbeat echoing in your ears, you blinked against the darkness until a sight made your heart stop entirely. Joel - you just knew it was him - with a clicker two inches behind him, gaining speed rapidly.

It wasn’t until you felt the stickiness on your palms and the sharp sting accompanying it that you looked down to realise you’d gripped a shard of glass in your fist. It wasn’t until the clicker’s blood was spraying on your face that you realised you had jammed it into its neck. It wasn’t until you gasped that Joel whirled in your direction, taking in the sight of the blood coating you and the wild look in your eyes.

He stared.

Tears stained your lashes, chest heaving as you struggled to clamp down on the obvious panic forming on your face. Were you scared for him? Your eyes met his, red-rimmed and overflowing with fear and guilt and he just stood there, gaping at you.

You had just saved his life. He should have been the corpse on the ground. But you had saved his life. You, who he had hurt and cut and bruised and-

and you were sniffling, shaking with the weight of your sobs. It tore an old, raw wound in his heart, and in another life he would have cared and reached out, wiped away your tears and kissed your damp cheeks. But this was not that life, so he remained quiet, finally walking up to you to shrug his jacket around your shoulders.

“We’ve got a long way to go. Get goin’ now, c’mon.” He walked forward a few steps, turning to reach a hand out to you. When you winced further into yourself, he recoiled. Again - in another life, he would have taken your shaking hands and held them in his own. Told you over and over how he could never hurt you again because you had just saved him as if you gave a shit, as if he meant something to you- No. In another life, he wouldn’t have hurt you in the first place. The old him would have snapped his goddamn spine if he saw himself now.

Again, Joel had no such liberties. No apologies. He wouldn’t even know where to start. So he didn’t - just kept walking ahead, cowardice gripping his chin and refusing him the opportunity to look over his shoulder to confirm if you were behind him.

He knew he was a bad man. He didn’t used to be, though. It began after Sarah’s death. Something dark, feral, festering inside him; feeding upon the man he was. And in his place stood the Joel who had broken you for his pleasure. A part of him was horrified at how thoroughly he’d done it - for you to kill the clicker and not him; for you to stay and fight rather than run away. And another part of him delighted at the implication. You chose him.

Even as he lay awake in his sleeping bag, half-clamoring to reach for you, to ease the sobs that had taken over your body and just hold you, his lip curled at the streaks of weakness shining through his façade. He turned around, facing away from you and berating himself for the lapse in his judgement. He was not weak.

Your shaking, weeping form still haunted him all night.

It turns out, Joel was weaker than he thought. In the weeks that came afterwards, he’d shrug you off every time you tried to return the jacket, set up camp the second a tired groan slipped past your treacherous lips, and you miraculously got warm water to shower with most mornings. His responses were still grunts and groans - barely discernible, but he hadn’t touched you still that day; rough or otherwise. Once, you’d felt the ghost of his palm on your trembling shoulder on one of the nights you were screaming in your sleep. The second you shifted your head to look at him, he’d flinched away.

Alright, then.

You shouldn’t love him, you knew it. He was terrible, and angry, and he hurt you and he was so fucking mean. But when his eyes softened just a fraction or his mouth twisted at the sight of bruises on your skin, or the way he just always fucking knew exactly what you needed, your brain just blanked. There was no logic; no argument. Just you and him, as it had been for so fucking long you could barely remember anyone else. Had anyone else ever taken care of you like this? Had anyone else ever put their lives on the line for you? The more you thought about it, the more it made sense. Of course you saved him. He was all you had. Broken, cruel, twisted.

But then again, who wasn’t?

And then he got bolder - left you more food, gave you better blankets and clothes and everything else - all while refusing to touch or acknowledge you, like a changed man.

Joel, who’d kept you as his…toy, in exchange for protecting you, was treating you like you were made of glass. It was laughable.

You still weren’t sure what to make of it. Was he tired of you? Would he kill you? Or maybe a small part of him feels the same way you do, a traitorous voice whispers in your head. You shake it away and blink against the onslaught of the rain, stalking after him.

He’s watching you while you set out the sleeping bags. You can feel his gaze on your back; making the tremble of your hands worse, the chattering of your teeth louder. He was burning holes into your back every time the booming crack of thunder sounded and you jolted.

Joel was your doom - but your savior, too. He was dangerous, but he’d grown to be your safety, too. Surely you could ask him of this? Steeling yourself, you turn around and face him, gulping. The shadow of a frown passes over his face as he retreats a step back just before a pained noise escapes your throat. His brows furrow, and you clear your throat before a meek voice you hardly recognise as your own starts speaking.

“C-can you sleep with m-me? Just-I’m sc-I just don’t like thunder. Y-you can say no. I’m not as-asking for more than you give me, I p-promise. P-please, I just-“

Joel’s picking his sleeping bag off the ground, a thud echoing as he drops it next to yours.

“Move over.”

He’s suddenly shuffling next to you, arms wrapping securely around you from behind. You can’t breathe, or move, or think. He’s holding you. Joel is holding you. Goosebumps erupt across your flesh, breath stuttering as your limbs lock up. And then a large palm rests on your waist lightly, and his breath fans across the back of your neck.

“Jus’ breathe. ‘S alright. You’re okay. Only a storm, see. I’m right here.”

You can’t even stop yourself from melting into him, nestling back into his embrace as your hand finds his. You nearly jump out of your skin when his fingers thread through yours.

Could Joel be…gentle?

His thumb starts stroking your skin, and every single one of your senses is focused on that onepoint of contact and you can feel him behind you and he’s so warm and soft and-

Your hips move of their volition, rocking against his just a fraction before his grip holds you in place. And you just can’t anymore, because you don’t know where you stand with him or if he wants you but all you know is that you fucking need him now.

“Please, Joel.”

His breath hitches this time, a soft chuckle sounding from behind you.

“Please what, bunny? Why’d you want me, hm? You’re so-too fucking good f’me, y’know that? Haven’t done a single thing right by ya an’ y’still saved me. Killed f’me. Why don’t ya run, baby? Y’tougher than you look.” Your back is arching from his words alone, humiliation flushing hot against your skin as your breath stutters. It’s like the world stops for a second - the weight of his words; his realisation, has you tumbling harder than you thought you ever could.

“Never had anywhere else to go, Joel. No one else to go to. And you do take care of me, and keep me safe and fed. The clicker nearly had you. All I knew was that I was about to lose everything if it did. I knew what I was getting into when you made the offer. I… I need you even when you hurt me, Joel.”

He takes a deep breath, and nuzzles into your hair from behind. The pattern of his thumb on your too-warm skin is making you squirm, and you just know he’s grinning right now. A small, victorious one - the kind you’d think was a scowl at first, until you saw his eyes. And the gleam in them.

“Yeah? No more hurtin’, sweetheart. Gonna keep you safe from everythin’. Myself, too.” And with that mumble, his hands are moving, groping and grabbing at your flesh as they trail a path to the seams of your shirt. Faster than you can blink, a large tear bleeds into its middle, before his fingers inch towards the hem of your trousers too, echoes of a routine you’d both established long ago. They rip your panties, reaching inside and-

Oh, you missed him. The swipe of the back of his knuckles against your clit makes you keen for more, fingers clenching with need. His huff is answer enough as he repeats the motion, relishing the high-pitched taper to your gasp as you buck your hips into his hand. Two fingers come up to your mouth and you immediately close your lips around them, tongue swirling with well-practiced ease - Joel’s groan making pride flutter in your chest - before they slip between your legs again, entering you in a single punch that sweeps the air from your chest. You’re left grasping and clawing at nothing, Joel’s voice buzzing a steady hum in your ear.

“That’s it pretty baby, I‘ve got ya. Good girl.” The steady pumping of his fingers, the slight burn at the stretch and his fucking voice has you climbing higher and higher, whines and whimpers spilling into the cool air stretching above you both. Before you even realise it, you’re coming while gasping his name, walls clamping at the first contact his thumb makes with your clit. He works you through it as you fall apart in his arms, muttering praises and groans of appreciation into your hair.

You’re boneless, your eyes fluttering shut by the time the buzz of your high fades away; vision clearing. You blindly reach a hand behind you, fumbling with his jeans before his palm cages your gently and moves it away. You frown over your shoulder, making a noise of protest which he responds to by kissing you softly, brushing the hair out of your face.

“Let me take care of you.“ When you open your mouth to speak, he cuts you off by resting his thumb on your bottom lip, leaning in to peck the corner of your mouth. “Please, honey.” So you lie back, settling into his arms again - storm blissfully forgotten.

What can you do but obey, anyways?

hello loves, as always, thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3! stay hydrated, love you all! taglist (let me know if you want to be removed, no questions asked): @imherefordeanandbones, @theywhowriteandknowthings, @josephquinnswhore, @millerscoffee, @nostalxgic, @sscorpiiio, @pedrosaidsheispunk, @its-nebuleuse, @sofiparallel, @mandoisapunk, @bastardmandennis, @amanitacowboy, @party-hearses, @planet-marz1, @chiogarza, @jenispunk.

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