✨𝓛𝓮𝔁𝓲✨

𝔒𝔠𝔠𝔞𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔞𝔩 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔢𝔯, 𝔞𝔡𝔪𝔦𝔯𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 𝔪𝔦𝔡𝔡𝔩𝔢-𝔞𝔤𝔢𝔡 𝔥𝔬𝔱 𝔪𝔢𝔫 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔞𝔣𝔞𝔯. ℑ 𝔞𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔐𝔬𝔪 𝔉𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔞𝔩𝔴𝔞𝔶𝔰 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔩𝔦𝔭 𝔟𝔞𝔩𝔪.||18+ 𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔤, 𝕸𝖎𝖓𝖔𝖗𝖘 𝕹𝖔𝖙 𝕬𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖉 ||𝔇𝔢𝔰𝔦, 20s, 𝔏𝔞𝔴𝔶𝔢𝔯||𝔍𝔬𝔦𝔫 𝔪𝔶 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱||𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱||𝔄𝔯𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔒𝔣𝔒𝔲𝔯𝔒𝔴𝔫 ||𝔗𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯||𝔚𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔭𝔞𝔡||

[skullvis]

*Spoilers for Obsession, 2026*

Something that does disturb me more than the vast majority of things that are depicted in Obsession as a film, are the people I’ve seen adamantly defending Bear and calling him a victim like Nikki.

I’ve seen multiple people at this point, usually responding to someone else’s post emphasizing how insidious Bear’s behavior is, talking about how “actually Bear was set up to fail!”, or “he could never have known the wish would work so it’s not his fault!”, or that “he never intended to hurt Nikki so he’s just as much of a victim as she is!”

And I think these sorts of reactions are really indicative of how we are taught societally to value men’s feelings and image over the safety and wellbeing of women.

There are people who see how Bear behaves initially, and empathize with him so deeply that they either ignore, or apparently just literally choose not to acknowledge the harmful choices that Bear actively makes throughout the film.

They see Bear ignore that Nikki is *very*.**CLEARLY** behaving erratically and NOT acting anything like herself, they see him choose to continue his “relationship” with Nikki after it becomes literally undeniable that she is not in control of herself, that she has lost her autonomy, and they’re able to excuse his behavior because they’re more willing to believe in the initial image they are shown of Bear, than they are to believe in Bear’s capacity to do horrific things.

In a previous post I talked about how Bear is not in love with Nikki, but is obsessed with the image of her he’s created in his head. For some audience members, it seems that they have done the same thing with Bear as a character.

They’ve fallen for the image of Bear they have in their heads after seeing him at the beginning of the film, and believe so strongly in that image that they can just ignore ALL of his wrong-doings and the ways in which he hurts Nikki.

What disturbs me about this is how much of an art-imitates-life/life-imitates-art situation this is.

The biggest most recent example I can think of is the Depp v. Heard trial. That was a clear, real-life example of society valuing the reputation and the public image of a very beloved man over his alleged* mistreatment of a woman (regardless of her being an “imperfect victim”).

There are countless more examples. I think of the People v. Turner case, and how there were people lamenting over the “loss” of a rapist’s “bright future” and how he had “such a promising career in swimming” or whatever the fuck.

Both tragically and horrifically, I could go on.

Fuck, the movie itself also touches on this in-universe with the character of Sarah. Sarah is aware of how Bear is taking advantage of Nikki, but due to her perception of him as a “nice guy” and due to her feelings for him, she’s convinced herself that Bear is the one being victimized by Nikki. The nice image she has of Bear blinds her to the horrific nature of his behavior, and this ultimately costs her her life.

In interviews writer/director Curry Barker has been very explicit about how Bear is the antagonist of the film and his behavior is inexcusable, but there are still people who are trying to interpret Bear as being a “good guy”, who are grasping at whatever straws they can to absolve Bear as a character.

Like. Someone replied to a comment I made on a video about Bear not knowing or loving the real Nikki and they actually said that Bear was trying to break through to the real Nikki with his inaction:

(Never mind that when Bear first called the service line he did NOT want to cancel the wish, only to alter it to make Nikki love him on his terms**)

It’s shocking to me that there are people who see what happens to Nikki, who see how she is treated by Bear throughout the film, who see what his actions lead to for his ENTIRE friend group, and STILL think Bear deserves to be defended in some way.

Anyway, that’s my new “very disturbing and deeply horrific thing Obsession has given me to mull over” this week.

Obsession is definitely going to be a cultural phenomenon for a long time and I think it’s largely because of how intensely disturbing it is on so many different levels. There are layers to this movie that speak very deeply to people’s fears surrounding autonomy, sexual assault and rape, and relationships. It’s about the objectification of women and abusive relationships, it’s about how personal perception distorts reality, how people are willing to ignore red flags if a situation benefits them, it’s about desire, about taking responsibility for your actions, about how the people you trust the most may hurt and betray you. This movie has everything.

Thanks, Curry Barker!

*because of the ruling of the defamation case I am putting “allegedly”. I can’t claim to ever know what Depp and Heard’s relationship was like, but I can’t ignore the fact that there was an indisputable power-imbalance between them in Depp’s favor.

**A point that was made on the very fun “Too Scary Didn’t Watch” podcast episode for Obsession—the hosts mentioned specifically that Bear calling the help line was upsetting to them because even after making his wish for Nikki to love him MORE THAN ANYONE, he’s still not satisfied and wants her to love him on his own terms—granted yes, her behavior was frightening, but it speaks more to how Bear, after literally stripping away Nikki’s autonomy and making her choice for her regarding her feelings towards him, he’s still not satisfied.

Nikki’s behavior is incredibly alarming at the point right before Bear makes the phone call, but instead of showing genuine concern about her mental wellbeing or actually acknowledging her breakdowns, he talks to her like a child and gives her reprimands (“you can’t cook the cat, Nikki!”) and just tries to redirect her behavior instead of get her HELP.

[skullvis]

*Spoilers for Obsession, 2026*

Something that does disturb me more than the vast majority of things that are depicted in Obsession as a film, are the people I’ve seen adamantly defending Bear and calling him a victim like Nikki.

I’ve seen multiple people at this point, usually responding to someone else’s post emphasizing how insidious Bear’s behavior is, talking about how “actually Bear was set up to fail!”, or “he could never have known the wish would work so it’s not his fault!”, or that “he never intended to hurt Nikki so he’s just as much of a victim as she is!”

And I think these sorts of reactions are really indicative of how we are taught societally to value men’s feelings and image over the safety and wellbeing of women.

There are people who see how Bear behaves initially, and empathize with him so deeply that they either ignore, or apparently just literally choose not to acknowledge the harmful choices that Bear actively makes throughout the film.

They see Bear ignore that Nikki is *very*.**CLEARLY** behaving erratically and NOT acting anything like herself, they see him choose to continue his “relationship” with Nikki after it becomes literally undeniable that she is not in control of herself, that she has lost her autonomy, and they’re able to excuse his behavior because they’re more willing to believe in the initial image they are shown of Bear, than they are to believe in Bear’s capacity to do horrific things.

In a previous post I talked about how Bear is not in love with Nikki, but is obsessed with the image of her he’s created in his head. For some audience members, it seems that they have done the same thing with Bear as a character.

They’ve fallen for the image of Bear they have in their heads after seeing him at the beginning of the film, and believe so strongly in that image that they can just ignore ALL of his wrong-doings and the ways in which he hurts Nikki.

What disturbs me about this is how much of an art-imitates-life/life-imitates-art situation this is.

The biggest most recent example I can think of is the Depp v. Heard trial. That was a clear, real-life example of society valuing the reputation and the public image of a very beloved man over his alleged* mistreatment of a woman (regardless of her being an “imperfect victim”).

There are countless more examples. I think of the People v. Turner case, and how there were people lamenting over the “loss” of a rapist’s “bright future” and how he had “such a promising career in swimming” or whatever the fuck.

Both tragically and horrifically, I could go on.

Fuck, the movie itself also touches on this in-universe with the character of Sarah. Sarah is aware of how Bear is taking advantage of Nikki, but due to her perception of him as a “nice guy” and due to her feelings for him, she’s convinced herself that Bear is the one being victimized by Nikki. The nice image she has of Bear blinds her to the horrific nature of his behavior, and this ultimately costs her her life.

In interviews writer/director Curry Barker has been very explicit about how Bear is the antagonist of the film and his behavior is inexcusable, but there are still people who are trying to interpret Bear as being a “good guy”, who are grasping at whatever straws they can to absolve Bear as a character.

Like. Someone replied to a comment I made on a video about Bear not knowing or loving the real Nikki and they actually said that Bear was trying to break through to the real Nikki with his inaction:

(Never mind that when Bear first called the service line he did NOT want to cancel the wish, only to alter it to make Nikki love him on his terms**)

It’s shocking to me that there are people who see what happens to Nikki, who see how she is treated by Bear throughout the film, who see what his actions lead to for his ENTIRE friend group, and STILL think Bear deserves to be defended in some way.

Anyway, that’s my new “very disturbing and deeply horrific thing Obsession has given me to mull over” this week.

Obsession is definitely going to be a cultural phenomenon for a long time and I think it’s largely because of how intensely disturbing it is on so many different levels. There are layers to this movie that speak very deeply to people’s fears surrounding autonomy, sexual assault and rape, and relationships. It’s about the objectification of women and abusive relationships, it’s about how personal perception distorts reality, how people are willing to ignore red flags if a situation benefits them, it’s about desire, about taking responsibility for your actions, about how the people you trust the most may hurt and betray you. This movie has everything.

Thanks, Curry Barker!

*because of the ruling of the defamation case I am putting “allegedly”. I can’t claim to ever know what Depp and Heard’s relationship was like, but I can’t ignore the fact that there was an indisputable power-imbalance between them in Depp’s favor.

**A point that was made on the very fun “Too Scary Didn’t Watch” podcast episode for Obsession—the hosts mentioned specifically that Bear calling the help line was upsetting to them because even after making his wish for Nikki to love him MORE THAN ANYONE, he’s still not satisfied and wants her to love him on his own terms—granted yes, her behavior was frightening, but it speaks more to how Bear, after literally stripping away Nikki’s autonomy and making her choice for her regarding her feelings towards him, he’s still not satisfied.

Nikki’s behavior is incredibly alarming at the point right before Bear makes the phone call, but instead of showing genuine concern about her mental wellbeing or actually acknowledging her breakdowns, he talks to her like a child and gives her reprimands (“you can’t cook the cat, Nikki!”) and just tries to redirect her behavior instead of get her HELP.

[andy-in-space]

I saw Obsession on Friday and it has completely captured my mind for about 2 days. personally, I love lower-budget horror films with a cast of unknowns. it allows me to fall into the story without thinking of the actors as just the actors. one of my favorite things, though, was the practical effects. I am not a fan of excessive CGI, and this movie truly hit the mark for me. it showed that practical effects are still absolutely terrifying, and are often much scarier than CGI.

despite one actress in particular being newer to the industry, Inde Navarette gave a performance worthy of an award. she gave the real Nikki so much depth, intelligence, and personality in the mere 10-15 minutes we had to get to know her that I felt so much empathy for her character by the end. she played both characters, because to me they were completely different people, seamlessly.

as for the plot itself, it held my attention the entire time and it was riveting. to me, it truly showed its meaning loud and clear without directly saying it. there has been a lot of debate online about who the 'real' villain is, I think that's how it shows that the story was told effectively. Bear is not meant to be comically evil. to me, he came across as a seemingly normal guy that nearly every girl has met.

the writing so effectively showed the culture around sexual assault that most people didn't understand it, because misogyny and sexism is so deeply ingrained in our day-to-day lives. Bear was a villain so well-written that many people refuse to view him as one because they see parts of themselves in him.

all in all, if you're looking for a movie with amazing unknown actors, a deep and beautifully written plot, and an allegory that will stick with you for days, then Obsession is for you.

[chattahoochiecoochie]

pretty interested by bears last fight with nikki. its not really mattered so far to him that shes turned into a total monster. he can still possess her shell, own her as an thing, as the object of his desire. but thats not enough in their last fight. her behavior, her weirdness—its obstructing. it conflicts with the version of her he wants to have and thus he tells her its not enough to look like nikki or to even be nikki. she needs to behave like his nikki. to think and to speak and embody her. and she can’t. not even with a wish.

and that makes him feel fucking crazy. that is what pushes him over.

[supercoolncollected]

It's really about a guy being tortured by the vengeful spirit of his neglected cat possessing his dream girl's body. "Nikki" occasionally hides like one and also does a Cheshire Cat grin and Angry Cat frown. It even asks him what's the verdict on who he's dating: cat. 😾

[bluemusickid]

Din Djarin and Grogu: AU

[metaphoricgibberish]

hi, hello - my name is sara and i write depraved things about pedro pascal characters. i'm not super into writing one-shots (love reading them tho) so all my stories are in series format. my DMs are always open, i love talking fics, pedro, tlou, narcos, and anything at all regarding men old enough to be my father.

happy reading, i appreciate you all tremendously <3

To the Light [ joel miller ]

"He was such a greedy fuck, when had that happened? What was it about her that had turned him into this… desperate, frenzied, fucking insatiable man that had stooped to the point of planning his entire day around getting a glimpse of her. It wasn’t just one thing, he knew that, rather it was an amalgamation of everything about her, everything he could see, everything he knew, and the large cavern of things he didn’t know, but wanted to so badly it ate away at him, like a virus, like fucking cordyceps, surging through his body and altering his brain chemistry, his ambitions and intent, so that it was just her, his sole focus was just her."

summary: Joel finds a young woman being held hostage by a group of men while he's out on patrol one day. He brings her back to Jackson, where she's given the opportunity to have something resembling a real life, for the first time. The two of them orbit around each other, destined to crash, if both of their reservations don't get in the way.

pairing: joel miller x ofc rating: 18+ mdni word count: 96.8k (complete)

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Joel finds the love of his life lost in the woods.

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Fic playlist: Spotify / Apple Music

Read insatiable (a To the Light one-shot) here.

Read hearth (a To the Light one-shot) here.

Dawn [ javier peña ]

"It had been wrong, back then, his feelings for her. He'd known that and that's why he'd never let anything happen between the two of them. But he'd always been weak. That first time he'd seen her after Richie had gone off to fight a war just as brutal and useless and the one he'd been fighting out in Colombia, that first time he'd really seen her— just a glimpse as she left the market, bag hoisted up on her hip, long, wavy hair bouncing behind her, shapely legs visible in that little yellow sundress that hugged her waist just right— he'd been a fucking goner."

summary: Javier Peña returns to his hometown after leaving the DEA. He doesn't want the undeserving praise everyone is trying to push on him, he doesn't really want anything at all, beyond a quiet life on his father's ranch, such a stark contrast to the atrocities he'd witnessed over the ten years away. But there's one familiar face that he can't seem to shake no matter how hard he tries.

pairing: javier peña x ofc rating: 18+ mdni word count: 80.8k (complete) a.n. first chapter of my new Javi fic is up! each chapter will be named after a Lana Del Rey song with a corresponding lyric (idk Javi is Lana coded to me). I hope you enjoy <3

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Javier Peña falls for his best friend's little sister.

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Nights Like This One [ joel miller ]

"Joel couldn't resist the tug any longer, finally succumbing to the dull ache at the base of his spine as he turned around and locked eyes with her— bright fucking blue, twinkling animatedly when they met his. Most of the time her eyes looked hollow, devastatingly so, but he'd noticed that when they got into these bickering matches her eyes lightened, and so then how was he ever expected to stop?"

summary: Joel Miller is hired by an elderly woman to fix up her home. However, in the middle of the renovations, she dies and her daughter, Lily, moves from California to Austin to live in her mother's home. Joel continues to work on the house despite the two of them constantly butting heads. Tensions rise and the two are destined to crash whether they like it or not.

(Initially takes place pre-outbreak, story spans through outbreak day, all the way to 2023).

pairing: joel miller x ofc rating: 18+ mdni word count: 142.6k (complete) a.n. hi my friends! a few things: i did change sarah's age because i wanted to, i have creative liberty this is MY FUCKIN STORY!! lol. also i know nothing about construction, so i apologize, watch me make shit up with only google as my guide. please don't hate or be mean to my OC, she's going through some shit and the roles will be reversed later on after outbreak day, so let her be the emotionally unavailable, cold one for now. chapter length will be much shorter than most of my other fics solely because this has so many chapters. i'm writing it more in novel format than fic format, so forgive me. blame my useless, $120k creative writing degree. i hope you enjoy this. i'm having a lot of fun writing it.

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Joel Miller finds the love of his life right before the world ends.

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Fic playlist: Spotify / Apple Music

Amor Fati [ alpha!din djarin au ]

"Perhaps it was his own form of rebellion that he still had not had the Vision, at forty-five years old. Not that those things were controllable, but it did serve as some bit of flimsy vindication that Din did not have a mate, someone to fuck babies into for the satisfaction of the government. Of course, not every alpha had a true mate, but those that didn't still usually mated with one of the unmated omegas, they still served their purpose. Din had never fucked an omega, would never fuck an omega."

summary: Din lives in the lonesome world of unmated alphas. Ever since The Collapse he's hated this world, what it's become, what it's turned people into. Until he has The Vision, perhaps twenty years too late, he sees her face.

And then nothing, not even his flimsy morals, can keep him from finding her.

pairing: din djarin x ofc rating: 18+ mdni word count: 64.4k (complete) a.n. hi my friends!!!! i've been cooking this one up since November, so i'm super excited to start sharing. i've never written ABO before, so please be gentle with me. i may break some rules, but i do hope you'll forgive me. FYI this will be real AU -- no helmet, no star wars, mostly modern world with some world building involved. i hope you enjoy!

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The Din Djarin A/B/O AU

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Fic Playlist: Spotify / Apple Music

The Measure of Man [ joel miller ]

"All his sins, all the atrocities he'd committed, all the blood that stained his hands had finally caught up to him. The third time Joel nearly died he accepted it, not with relief, not with hope, but with grave assent. He asked for forgiveness as he slipped into death's cold embrace, he asked for mercy, not for a miracle, not for a second chance, he only asked for sympathy, for charity, a chance to go anywhere but the fiery afterlife he knew he was condemned to."

summary: There are people of virtue who believe themselves to be monsters. There are monsters who believe themselves to be human. Most of us, though, exist in the impalpable space between monster and human. 

pairing: joel miller x ofc rating: 18+ mdni word count: 74.3k+ (ongoing - 12/15 chapters) a.n. hello and welcome!! the first two chapters of this will serve as an intro to the characters and the plot, so they'll be much shorter than the following chapters. hope you enjoy!!

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Joel is saved by a woman he believes to be an angel, who believes herself to be a monster.

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Fic Playlist: Spotify / Apple Music

The Human Condition [ therapist!joel miller au ]

"Joel passed his palm over his mouth, his eyes drifting over to the clock on his office wall for perhaps the fifth time in the last thirty minutes. He dreaded his one o'clock appointment, but not for the reasons that he should. He dreaded it because he looked forward to it far more than was appropriate, for reasons that would surely get him fired."

summary: Violet Wood is lost, thinks perhaps she's been lost since the day she was born.

Joel Miller is a psychiatrist who has experienced a tremendous loss of his own.

Neither of them are expecting each other.

pairing: joel miller x ofc rating: 18+ mdni word count: 53.1k (complete) warnings: extreme trigger warnings for suicidal behavior/attempts, mental health discussion, EDs, self-harm, depression, anxiety a.n. i have been thinking about this forever, and i'm really excited to start sharing, albeit slowly. hope you all enjoy <3

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The Joel Miller Therapist AU

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Fic Playlist: Spotify / Apple Music

The Age of Innocence [ joel miller]

"He didn't know what was coming over him, he'd always thought she was sweet, cute maybe, but never once had he noticed just how full her bottom lip was, how pert her ass was, how pretty it was when the apples of her cheeks filled with color."

summary: Nestled in the Sierra Nevada mountains is an old gold mining town— Twain Harte— named after the American authors Mark Twain and Bret Harte, both of which never lived there. A woman named Liliana does though, and when she was a little girl she was saved by a man, a man she has spent twenty years loving from afar.

Until something changes.

pairing: joel miller x ofc rating: 18+ mdni word count: 80.1k (complete) a.n. lmao i hate myself. i've been slowly adding to this idea for a while, and i'm too excited about it to wait until after i write Fate Forgone Virtue, so i guess i'm writing them simultaneously?? I used to live in Twain Harte, so i'm very excited about the setting of this one. each chapter will be named after a place within the town. also the playlist for this one is a little different, i wanted to compile a bunch of songs that remind me of my time living there, rather than ones that relate to the story per se. i'll shut up now! i hope you enjoy <3

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Joel Miller finds himself infatuated with a young woman who has loved him all her life.

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Fic Playlist: Spotify / Apple Music

Mercy for Those Seeking [ joel miller ]

"Sometimes it felt like Ophelia had been fighting to stay above water her entire life, just waiting to finally drown, waiting for the water in her lungs to surge up into her larynx, or her vocal cords, closing them up and cutting off her oxygen."

summary: Sometimes it takes a moment akin to an atom bomb to remake a life. Other times, all it takes is a whisper. This is both. For fate can exist as a single, chance meeting.

pairing: joel miller x ofc rating: 18+ mdni word count: 106.9k (complete) a.n. been working on this one while i've been away and i'm very excited to start sharing. i thought i would wait a bit longer, but i'm nothing if not impatient. i really hope you enjoy this one, it's a bit different than my other fics, but i hope that won't deter you.

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Joel is a construction worker. Ophelia is an architect. Chance or fate brings them together and sends Ophelia on a journey of rebirth.

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Fic Playlist: Spotify / Apple Music

Requiem [ ghost!din djarin ]

"Some things— some phenomena— don't allow for escape, they don't provide room for disregard. Sometimes people find themselves tethered to a place, a thing, an idea, a person with something indestructible, a reinforced rope one cannot saw through nor ignore. Let this be a warning or a promise, perhaps both, as oftentimes the two come intertwined."

summary: Some souls are tied— bound together through life and death, through centuries of reincarnation, intertwined with something stronger than steel.

Din Djarin has been dead for fifty years, trapped in black nothingness, some liminal space between this realm and the next, until he is summoned back to a small town in Washington by the arrival of Annabelle Larson— whose name he has heard ringing in his head for as long as he can remember.

pairing: din djarin x ofc rating: 18+ mdni word count: 79k (completed) a.n. i'm so fucking excited about this. most of my stories are based in reality, but this is very much paranormal/fantasy/sci-fi. not even the town is real. I'M MAKIN' SHIT UP! i really hope you enjoy this, i've been thinking about writing a ghost fic since last december when i saw Nosferatu.

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The Din Djarin Ghost AU

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Fic Playlist: Spotify / Apple Music

Fate Forgone Virtue [ dark!joel miller ]

"Solitude forges in people a very specific kind of hurt. Not when that solitude is fleeting, or induced by situation, but solitude that is born, solitude that lends itself to a certain breed of man. It's a bone deep hurt, one that is drilled into the soul, it molds it into something misshapen and ugly. An unsocialized dog will bite the hand of a stranger out of fear. Fear bred from solitude."

summary: A man, gone brutal and cold, stalks through life with blood on his hands and violence in his head.

A woman, hopeless and desperate, seeks death’s embrace like a lover’s warmth. 

This is their story.

pairing: joel miller x ofc rating: 18+ mdni word count: 1.7k+ (on hiatus) warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, non-con, stockholm syndrome, violence, gore, bondage a.n. hello everyone!! welcome to hell! please take the tags seriously. this is not like my usual fics. i will not be adding a warning to every chapter, but everything is in the tags. no hard feelings if this one is not your cup of tea, but for those of you willing to come along for the ride, i'm really excited about this one! the first two chapters will be somewhat of a short introduction to the story, the following chapters will be longer. have fun! ;)

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Joel Miller gives a young woman a second chance at life, as his pet.

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Spotify Playlist Here

Sanctuary [ javier peña ]

"She glanced over at him, her lips hinting at a smile as his pretty brown eyes locked on hers. She wanted him to tell her something now, not that she had taken him here as a greedy means of give and take, even though that’s all their relationship was. Give and take. Just sex. If she couldn’t know his last name or why he had scars all over his chest, then she wanted to know what he thought was beautiful, what he thought was ugly, what existed in both spaces for him."

summary: Takes place after the third season-- Javier moves to San Francisco to escape what he'd witnessed in Colombia over the past several years. The DEA is desperate to get him down to Mexico to help take down the Guadalajara Cartel, but Javier isn't so sure he wants to continue down that path. His decision only becomes increasingly more difficult when he meets a bartender named Emma, whose commitment issues seem to mirror his own.

pairing: javier peña x ofc rating: 18+ mdni word count: 93.4k (complete)

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Javier Peña meets his match in the form of a little bartender in San Francisco.

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[tateypots]

Baby Mine Part 3

Pairing: dark!Joel Miller x f!reader

w/c: 5k

Summary: You settle into Jackson with Joel and he is obsessed with your pregnant body.

Warnings: Non-con, murder and canon typical violence, beatings as punishment, kidnapping, threats of SA, suicidal thoughts, suicide by clicker attempt, manipulation, use of fear as a weapon, breeding kink, pregnancy kink (Joel is insanely turned on by reader being pregnant), manipulation, forced marriage. Please let me know if I forgot anything! Reader is described as having boobs and a vagina and a bush but otherwise is a blank slate.

Part 2 | Series Masterlist

Tommy talks a mile a minute on the way to your new home. He points out different land marks, which way to the dining hall, which way to the stables and the market. You don’t bother trying to take it all in because you know you’ll be too scared to go anywhere without Joel and he already knows all this stuff.

The house Tommy takes you to is a similar style to the one you just left, although it looks little melancholy and bare without the window boxes full of flowers. You wonder idly if Joel will let you have some.

You dutifully follow Joel up the steps into the house, your hand still held tight in his. It’s as Tommy is running through where everything is you realise how exhausted you are. Between the fear, the adrenaline, the long journey and the pregnancy you feel ready to collapse. You sag against Joel as Tommy is telling you that you’ve missed the lunch service in the dining hall but he’ll have someone stop by with some food.

“Woah there darlin’,” Joel says as he feels you leaning on him, “you ok?” He turns to you, cupping your face in his hands and making you look at him. He’s worried, you can see it on his face. Tommy is too as he hovers nearby, taking your arm to offer more support.

“M’okay,” you mumble, “just tired.”

“Here, why don’t you lie down on the couch and have a nap while I go and get us some essentials ok?”

You whimper as Joel guides you to the sofa, “don’t leave me here,” you sniffle, clutching at his arms. Joel has to suppress a smirk as he sees the way Tommy is giving you a soft smile. You’ve already won him over. That’s good, having Tommy on board will make the next steps easier. And hopefully he will keep Maria in check.

“I won’t be long baby, I promise, we’ll lock the door and you’ll be safe ok?”

You’re shaking your head and clinging to him. You know this is dangerous territory, you’ve been punished for this behaviour before but you’re so scared it’s overriding the rational side of your brain.

It’s Tommy that comes to your rescue before Joel loses his temper with you.

“Why don’t you stay here with her, give me a list of what you need and I’ll get it sorted.”

“You sure? Don’t want to put you out.”

“I’m sure. It’s the least I can do.” Tommy flashes Joel a guilty look and he knows this is his way of apologising for thinking that Joel hurt you. If only he knew how right he’d been.

“Ok, thanks Tommy,” Joel turns back to you, “go on and lie down, I’m just gona be out on the porch givin’ Tommy a list of things we need and then I’ll be right back in ok?”

“Ok,” you whisper, allowing Joel to guide you into lying down. There’s no blankets in here so he takes off his coat and drapes it over you and gives you a kiss on your forehead before following Tommy out onto the porch.

“Ok, hit me, what do you need?” Tommy asks.l

“Need some new clothes, for her especially, she’s been havin’ to wear my old sweats and t-shirts since she outgrew all her things. Some food, maybe some throws for in the living room, if she needs to lay down I don’t want her gettin’ cold.”

Tommy nods along making a mental note, “anything else?”

“She’ll need to see the doctor, make sure everythin’s ok,” Joel’s voice catches, he doesn’t want to even contemplate that anything could be wrong with his little miracle. Tommy nods knowingly and gives Joel’s arm a pat.

“I’m sure the doc will be able to clear a spot to see her. Why don’t we wait until the mornin’ though, let you two get some rest?”

Joel nods, you’ve been through enough for today.

“There’s one more thing Tommy,” Joel says, putting on a show of being a little nervous. He does’t really think it’s necessary given how bad Tommy feels about earlier but he wants to make sure he’s removed all trace of doubt from Tommy’s mind. “Can you speak to the preacher, about us gettin’ wed?” He nods towards where you’re currently laid out on the sofa as if Tommy will be in any doubt who the ‘us’ entails.

Tommy puffs his cheeks out with his exhale and his hand rubs at his neck.

“Married huh? S’a big step.”

“Bigger than havin’ a kid together?” Joel asks jokingly.

“Fair point. Just din’t have you pegged as the marryin’ kind. Never thought I’d see the day that’s all.”

“Me either if I’m bein’ honest,” Joel admits, “but, I want to do right by her. I got her into this mess and I ain’t gona abandon her to be judged and looked down of because of it. If we’re married, it quiets some of the noise.”

Tommy just nods. He knows he can’t argue against people judging when he and Maria did just that not half an hour ago.

“This what she wants too?” he asks.

“I’ll talk to her about it later, if she says no then we can leave it but if she says yes I want it done as soon as possible.” Joel knows it will be happening though, because you’re not really getting a choice.

“I’ll talk to the pastor. See if he can fit you in after the doc.”

Joel heaves a relieved sigh. “Thanks Tommy, I appreciate it.”

“Go get some rest, I’ll call in later with your stuff.”

When Joel comes back in your head pops up over the sofa and you make a terrified little squeak that he finds absolutely adorable. He wants to ravage you right then and there but you’re exhausted and overwhelmed and if he’s being honest, he could do with a nap as well. And now he has all the time in the world to fuck you stupid so there’s no need to rush. So he walks round the sofa and lies down next to you, cuddling in close.

“Go to sleep baby, m’here.” You cuddle up against him and you’re both asleep in seconds.

You’re awoken a couple of hours later by a gentle knocking on the front door. Joel grunts as he clambers to his feet, his body moving awkwardly as his body adjusts to suddenly being awake. He throws open the door with more force than he’s intending and grunts again when he sees Tommy, arms laden with goods for you.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” Tommy grins coming in and wandering through to the kitchen to dump everything on the counter. It’s clearly not the first time he’s seen Joel in this discombobulated state.

You’re fairing a little better than Joel, having already been stirring when Tommy knocked instead of being pulled from a deep sleep. You wander into the kitchen after Tommy yawning and rubbing your eyes but with a lot more grace than Joel stumbled to the door with.

Tommy has already started unpacking food and filling up the refrigerator and pantry.

“Brought you some sandwiches, thought you’d want something quick and easy for now, and there’s some stew in the fridge for later, just needs to be heated up.”

Joel rummages through the pile of items on the counter until he finds the two wrapped sandwiches, passing one to you and ripping his open and chowing down immediately. You follow suit, only just realising how hollow you feel from hunger. Joel has kept you fed as well as he could on the road but it’s so good to have something other than meat, dried or otherwise. You actually groan as you take your first bite. You can’t believe how thrilled you are with a simple sandwich.

Tommy’s running through an inventory of all the things he’s brought, new clothes, blankets, wood and kindling for your log burner, towels, but its the shampoo and soap that really get your attention.

“Proper soap!” you exclaim, immediately getting embarrassed at how excited you are by it. Tommy just chuckles.

“Sorry, just been a while since I was properly clean,” you mumble, remembering all the times Joel made you bathe in rivers with your clothes on because he didn’t want you to be caught in a situation where you were ambushed while naked.

“S’alright darlin’, why don’t you run on up and get showered and I’ll finish up with Tommy?”

“Really?” you ask Joel, it feels rude to skip out while you have a visitor but you can’t wait to strip out of your manky traveling clothes and scrub all the accumulated dirt and grime off your skin.

“Really, go on, I’ll be up in a bit,” he pulls you in and gives you a quick kiss before you gather up the soap, shampoo and towels and head for the bathroom. Just before you leave the kitchen, you remember your manners.

“Thank you for all this Tommy.” He nods at you and you turn and leave them to it. As soon as you’re in the bathroom, you start to strip, the old t shirt and sweatpants you’d borrowed from Joel dropped to the floor in a heap. Laundry was definitely a problem for tomorrow.

You’d had to stop wearing bra’s when your boobs started getting bigger so you’re left just in your panties. And the panties in question were old and worn, they had several holes and the elastic was hanging on for dear life. There was no saving them, you threw them straight in the trash. You were sure that if there was no underwear in the pile of new clothes downstairs you could ask Joel to get you some. Although come to think of it, he may prefer you to go without.

You hadn’t really thought much of what your life would be like once you reached Jackson. One thing you could hazard a guess about was that you’d be getting fucked. A lot. There would almost certainly be new rules for you to follow. You would have to try extra hard to be good for him. Not that he would hurt you while you were pregnant. But you didn’t want a store of punishments waiting for you as soon as you gave birth.

You’re pulled from your thoughts as you hear the front door opening. Joel must be seeing Tommy out. You turn on the shower and dive straight in, shivering as the cold water hits you. You grab the soap and start lathering up your body, wanting to get out of the frigid water as soon as you can.

You let out a surprised “oh!” as you feel the water start to warm up. It feels incredible. Even in the QZ the best you could hope for was lukewarm. You feel the warm water spilling over you and you feel your body start to unknot. You’ve never felt anything like it and you can’t stop the moan that spills out of you.

“Now that is a beautiful noise.”

You let out a surprised squeak and almost jump out of your skin. For such a big man, Joel can be surprisingly stealthy. He just chuckles and starts undressing, leaving his clothes in a pile with yours.

You turn to face him as he does, his attention on removing his socks.

“The water is warm, it’s so nice!” you tell him in an awed voice. He laughs again, the sound is deep and joyful and for a moment you revel in it. Happy Joel is safe. But as he looks up you see his face change. The smile drops and his expression darkens. You run through everything in your head, trying to remember if you’ve done anything bad, trying to work out what could have upset him and whether you’re going to be in trouble for it.

After a moment of panic though you spot that his attention is fully on your belly. You’re almost 6 months along now, and the swell of it is undeniable. But you’re at a loss as to why it suddenly has Joel transfixed. It’s not like he didn’t know you were showing. You’d been together the whole time since you found out you were pregnant. But as he starts stalking towards you, you realise that you hadn’t been naked with him the entire time you were traveling. And it was one thing to know you were showing and another for him to see it fully for the first time.

By the time he reaches you his cock is at full mast. You know what comes now. You’re about to get fucked for the first time in your new home. The intensity on Joel’s face is scaring you but you know any resistance will be bad for you. You force your body to relax, taking some deep breaths as the water continues to flow over you.

His hands reach out and cradle your bump as he steps into the shower. His touch is so gentle in comparison to the way his eyes are devouring you. Before you know what’s happening his hand moves lightning quick and wraps around your wrist. He drags you from the shower and pulls you into the bedroom, your wet feet slipping on the polished hardwood floor. With a growl he picks you up and lies you on the bed, still absolutely soaking from the shower. You almost protest, not wanting to get the bed wet but you catch yourself before you do something foolish. Instead you part your legs for him to crawl between and he mutters a “good girl,” under his breath. It makes your pussy clench and you start to relax more. He’s not going to hurt you. It’ll feel good, you just need to relax.

His hands are back on your belly, gently caressing it as he kneels between your legs. He leans down and starts to press soft kisses all over it. It actually feels nice. You bring your hand up play with his hair. You know he likes it, and as always it pulls a satisfied groan from him.

He kneels back now, drinking in the sight of you below him but his hands remain on your belly like he can’t bear to be parted from it.

“Look at you,” he says, a hint of wonder in his voice. “So fuckin’ pretty, growin’ my baby.” His eyes almost bulge out of his head as he feels the baby move inside you. “Did you feel that baby,” he looks at you with such excitement that for a moment you forget everything that has come before, right now, for this one moment Joel isn’t your captor, your rapist, your keeper. He is just the father of your baby.

You give him a smile, “I felt it,” you rest your hand over his, “I’ve never felt a movement like that before.” You wish you could bottle the look of joy that spreads over his face when you tell him that. You wish you could forever stay in this perfect little bubble. But the excited twitch of Joel’s cock breaks the spell.

He lurches forward, leaning over your protruding stomach to kiss you fiercely. He moans into your mouth as he invades it with his tongue. He’s desperate now, you can tell by the way his tongue dominates your mouth.

He pushes back up with a grunt. “You were such a good girl for me today, remembered all your answers, did such a good job.” He starts shuffling back on the bed, until he’s lying with his head resting on your thigh. His hand idly starts stroking through your folds bringing a whimper out of you. It’s been months since he’s touched you like this. With tenderness and care. You’ve missed it more than you’d care to admit.

“Think you need a little reward for bein’ good. Would you like that baby?”

“Yes! Please Joel!”

He kisses over your mound and buries his face in your still damp curls, inhaling deeply, “smell so good baby,” he groans before he’s spreading your lips apart so he can admire you fully.

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy I ever saw baby.” He licks from your hole to your clit, “prettiest,” he licks you again, “tastiest,” and again, “tightest.” He plunges his tongue into you and you gasp in surprise. He fucks you with his tongue, slow and steady, spearing his tongue into you, then flattening it and running it in circles inside you before retreating and repeating. It’s slow and sensuous and maddening. He’s never taken you like this. He’s eaten you out before but always with a goal of getting you wet enough to take him. This is all for you. Your prize for following his orders.

You moan as his thumb finds your clit, rubbing in circles in time with the circles of his tongue inside you. Your hips start to grind down into his face of their own accord. His other hand rest casually by your navel. You can’t see him over your tummy and you find yourself sad that you can’t. You wish you could look into his eyes as he does this for you. Instead you settle for resting your hand over his on your belly. He immediately interlaces your fingers, giving you the connection you were craving.

He starts to increase his pace with his tongue and his thumb. You feel the pressure building in your core, a string of moans, gasps and whines escape your throat as it builds and builds. You feel the bed rocking beneath you and with a shock you realise that Joel must be humping the mattress. He’s enjoying this you think abstractly. And for reasons you don’t understand, that thought sends a wave of arousal over you and your hips buck into his face, pushing his tongue even further into you. You feel rather than hear him growl into your pussy the added vibrations snapping the tension within you. Your back arches off the bed as your thighs twitch and tremble. The pleasure radiates outwards from your pussy all through your body, like cracks spreading on an ice covered lake. Your ears ring and your vision blurs and you don’t think you’ve ever felt that good in your life. It puts all the other orgasms Joel has wrenched from you to shame.

You gasp for air as you come down, your brain feeling scrambled from the intensity. It’s only as you feel the insistent pressure of Joel’s cock at your entrance that you feel your consciousness snap back into place.

“There’s my girl,” Joel groans, voice thick with affection as he realises you’re back in the room. He’s on his knees at your centre, your legs hooked over his arms and your hips raised slightly off the bed as he slowly pushes himself into you. “So fuckin’ tight for me baby, God I’ve missed havin’ you like this.”

He bottoms out with a ragged moan, his head tipped back in ecstasy. He sits for a minute, trying to get a hold of himself before he comes just from pushing into you. You feel so fucking good he’s about to lose his mind.

He brings his head back up, eyes open and looks you in the eye as he starts to move, slowly at first, savouring the feel of you around his cock now that he doesn’t need to rush.

“Jesus baby, you feel like fuckin’ heaven. So warm and wet for me, huggin’ me so tight.” He keeps pumping into you, using his grip on your legs to pull you into his thrusts. His eyes roam down over you. Your tits are bigger than the last time he saw them. Swollen and full. Your nipples look bigger too but he’s not sure if that’s just his imagination. Either way he loves watching your tits bounce with every movement.

He tears his eyes away from them to look at your belly. So round and perfect. It’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen. He has half a mind to order to walk around the house fully naked at all times, just so he can see the masterpiece he’s made of your body.

He speeds up now, he can tell you’re feeling good by the way your pussy is rippling around him. His balls slap against your ass harder now as his movements become rougher, with a wet thwack as they get soaked in the slick that’s leaking from your pussy.

“Takin’ me so good baby, like this pussy was made for me.”

You cry out as he leans further forward, burying his cock even deeper and hitting all the sensitive spots inside you. He can feel how close you are.

“Play with those tits for me baby, got my hands full at the minute,” he jokes as he starts to really pound you. You do as you’re told and start to fondle your breasts.

“Fuck that’s hot! Pinch those nipples baby, just like I would, yeah that’s it, good girl.” You shatter. Completely falling apart on his cock. You wail, your back arches off the bed once more and you feel Joel’s seed spilling into you in warm pulses.

“Fuck! Yeah!’ he grunts as he finally stills.

He pulls out and you feel the rush of him spilling out of you onto the already soaked sheets. You won’t be able to sleep in this bed tonight, you’ve surely soaked through to the mattress.

He pulls you up off the bed and back into the shower where he thoroughly washes you and himself. Then he pulls you into him, your beck to his chest and cradles your belly, letting the warm water cascade over you as he knows you like it. He kisses your neck and hums contentedly every time he feels the baby move.

“Got an appointment with the doctor tomorrow morning, 9 o’clock clock.”

He feels you stiffen, “it’s nothin’ to worry about, she just wants to check you over and make sure everythin’s ok. I’ll be there with you, ain’t nothin’ to worry about.”

“Ok,” you whisper, slightly relieved that Joel will be with you. You’ve never seen a doctor before. It was always a luxury you couldn’t afford in the QZ.

“And then after that, we’re goin’ to see the Pastor and he’s goin’ to marry us.”

“Marry us?!”

“Mmm that’s right. You, me and the baby, we’re gona be a proper family. No one will be able to take you away from me then.”

“I’ll be yours forever?” you ask, not knowing what else to say. You know this isn’t optional.

“Yep, forever. Don’t that sound nice?”

You know there’s only one right answer. “Yes. I love you Joel.” You don’t. You do care about him in a complicated way but it’s not love. But you know you’ve said the right thing when he groans and turns your head towards him so he can kiss you on the lips.

“I love you too darlin’. And if you’re a good girl for me tomorrow, I’ll give you another reward,” he tells you and you have to bite your lip to stop from moaning and your thighs involuntarily clamp together. He just chuckles and bends you over, ready for another round.

The next day, you get the all clear at the doctor before Joel rushes you to the little chapel in the centre of town. When you arrive Tommy and Maria are already there. Tommy looks happy, smiling at you and Joel as you enter. Maria looks like she just swallowed a lemon. You’re not sure why she rubs you the wrong way as she absolutely has the measure of Joel but you can’t help the animosity you feel towards her. You ham up your happiness at your nuptials just to piss her off. You think you may have even taken it too far with your breathy “I do’s,” and flirty looks at Joel but when he gets you home he eats you out three times. Your body is a quivering mess of pleasure by the time he fucks you and you’re so far gone from your orgasms that you don’t even come back to yourself until after he’s finished.

As expected, you’re given a new set of rules to abide by and make Joel happy.

Firstly, you are to be naked and waiting on the bed for him every day at 12:30 when he’s working so he can come home and fuck you on his lunch break.

You are allowed to leave the house twice a week without Joel. Each excursion will be agreed with Joel ahead of time and you will report back to Joel every person that you interacted with and what was said. If anyone asks who you are, your first response is always, Joel Miller’s wife, followed by your name.

What Joel says goes, no talking back, no arguments and no disagreeing with him, not in private but especially not in public.

And finally, your pussy is open to him at all times. If he wants you, he can have you, no exceptions.

In all honesty you didn’t mind the rules. You knew you were going to be getting fucked no matter what and having you whenever he liked was not a new rule. Nor was not arguing back, you’d learned that one for self preservation a long time ago. Having a little bit of predictability with your lunch time seeing to wasn’t unwelcome and it helped break up your day. And you didn’t really like being out without Joel. You felt exposed and nervous. You found you couldn’t trust anyone you spoke to, always waiting for them to reveal themselves to be a monster. You went out twice a week as instructed or Joel said Maria would be on his case thinking he’d locked you away. You would walk to the market and buy something from a different stall each time before power walking back home, trying to avoid as many people as possible. The rest of the time you kept busy cleaning and organising the house ready for the baby.

On one of these trips out you were cornered by a young man. He looked around your age. He kept trying to talk to you, blocking your path when you tried to leave, even after you told him you were married.

“Your husband’s pretty old though right, won’t be long til you’re back on the market,” he’d said with a cocky wink. Your stomach roiled, a mixture of fear at being harassed by a stranger and despair that this might become commonplace if you were to lose Joel. You didn’t hold back. You vomited all over him, aiming directly for his chest instead of turning away. You made your escape while he cursed and retched himself.

Joel had found you on the floor of the bathroom, crying, huddled in the fetal position. His eyes had darkened as you told him what had happened.

That night he took you to the dining hall for dinner, despite your protests which earned you a mark for punishment once the baby was born.

“That him honey?” Joel asked of the man currently glaring at you from across the hall. You have a small nod and fought back tears. Joel had just nodded and went back to his dinner.

Two days later that man was dead. Found hanging from one of the beams in the stable. No note was found but it was quickly ruled a suicide. You knew differently though.

“You see the things I do for you?” Joel groaned in your ear as he pumped into you from behind. Your back was held tight against his chest, his arms wrapped around you, one hand squeezing at your tit, the other cradling your ever growing bump. “I’ll always keep you safe baby, no one messes with my girl.”

You clamped down on his cock at his words, his admission that he’d killed for you. Try as you might you couldn’t bring yourself to feel bad about it and instead concentrated on the pleasure building in your core.

///

As the weeks went on Joel got more and more obsessed with your belly, making you walk around in just your bra whenever he was home so he could look at, touch, kiss your belly whenever he wanted. And every night he would lay his head on it and talk to the baby, tell them how much he loved them, how he couldn’t wait to meet them. You felt a pang in your chest whenever he did it.

When you went into labour Joel stayed with you, holding your hands and guiding your breathing and telling what a good job you were doing, how proud of you he was. And when she finally arrived, screaming blue murder, you sank into his body and let him love on you, kiss you and hold you and tell you how much he loved you. And when your daughter was placed in your arms you felt your heart swell so much it felt like it would burst out of your chest. You’d never known love like it. You held her in your arms and Joel held you in his and you both wept with relief that she was here and she was safe and perfect.

Your adjustment to parenthood was not easy, you were exhausted and overwhelmed and always on the verge of tears. Not helped by the fact that whenever the baby was sleeping Joel forced you to your knees.

But when it came to looking after your daughter he became your rock. He’d already been a parent, knew what he was doing and was more than willing to to help you learn. It never felt forced or condescending, he was so natural with her. And every time he looked at her you could see his devotion etched all over his face. He looked at you like that sometimes now too. And watching him walk around shirtless with your tiny baby nestled into his chest made your nether regions tingle.

As you predicted, your daughter had become the centre of Joel’s world. One of his favourite things to do is sit with you while you breastfeed. His back against the headboard, you between his legs, her latched to your breast as she suckles. You can never help but stare at her, this tiny creature that you made.

“She’s so perfect Joel, I love her so much,” you whisper, your finger tracing her chubby little cheek as she feeds.

Joel hums into your neck, kissing you a couple of times. “I know baby, I do too. As soon as the doc gives us the go ahead, I’m gona put another one in you.”

His hand squeezes over your womb as he says it. You know that once upon a time that would have sounded like a threat. But looking down at your perfect girl, you find you wouldn’t mind that at all.

///

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Safe With Me

Pairing — Joel x female!reader

Multi-chap-fic – Dead To The world (2/?) ← previous

Summary

He needed to keep you safe. Knew that only he could and he knew too, that eventually, you would understand that too. That one day you wouldn't hate him anymore for ripping you out of your life and dropping you into the middle of his. Quite literally making you the centre of his world. All he needed to be, was patient. Because eventually, you would understand that he had no choice. That all of this, was just to keep you safe. And if Joel Miller had to learn one thing, it was to be patient.---You are no prisoner. Except you can't leave. Except you don't know where you are or how you got to—- wherever here was. But you are no prisoner. He was adamant of that.

Warnings

please mind these! +18 – mdni; no use of y/n for reader-insert psychological horror, domestic horror, descriptions of violence, dark!Joel, forced proximity, manipulation, captive/captor, obsessive behaviour, unspecified age gap, (eventual) Stockholm Syndrome, controlling behaviour, eventual romance, eventual smut, slow burn, Joel has a dog, reader has a cat, food struggles/struggling with food, (non)character death

a/n

thank you for your likes, reblog & comments <3 I'm happy y'all are as invested into this story as I am so here is the second chapter!! PLEASE be mindful of the tags! in this one reader struggles a lot with food of her circumstances,

word count: ~10k

as seen on archiveofourown.

Joel.

He heard the faint click of the bedroom door closing again. 

No exploring then. Although knowing you, which he did, you’d wanted to head downstairs, not to flee, you were smarter than to run out into the cold and unknown, but to grab a knife. He was no fool, he’d rid your bedroom of any sharp objects for a reason. Not that he was generally concerned for his wellbeing, he could handle whatever attempts you might make easily. It was your wellbeing that concerned him. The off chance that you might hurt yourself in your attempt to come for him. Or worse, him hurting you. 

That was the last thing he wanted. 

God, the way you had looked at him when he’d gotten impatient over dinner. Fear etched into your features, eyes filled with tears you were too stubborn to let fall? He needed to be more careful. He needed to give you time to settle, to understand. That he had done all of this for you. For your safety. And he knew that eventually, you would. 

If only he managed to be patient.

And if Joel Miller had learned to be one thing, then it was to be patient.

──────────

Your neck hurt. That was the first thing you noticed when you clawed your way back to consciousness. 

Stiff muscles protested when you shifted against the bathroom cabinet behind you, the thin rug beneath you doing next to nothing to soften the tile floor. 

Pepper was still curled against your stomach. Warm, heavy, purring faintly. The brush was still clutched tightly in your hand too.

Right. 

Not a nightmare then. 

A knock, muffled, distant but still loud and daunting made you flinch enough for Pepper to lift her head and blink at you, not without offence. 

“Babygirl?” Joel. Of course, who else? You were trapped here with him. Your stomach turned immediately. “You alright in there?” You swallowed against the sudden nausea that gripped around your throat. “I’m gonna come—”

No! “I’m up!” You interrupted him. Too fast, too loud. 

Silence followed and you held your breath. Waiting to hear him enter the bedroom and discover that you had slept in the bathroom. But instead… “Kay,” still muffled, still distant. “Time f’breakfast, alright?”

Food. 

Your stomach lurched painfully at the memory of dinner. His fist slamming against the table. The sharp crack of his voice. 

I said eat. 

You squeezed the brush tighter in your hand.

“I— I’ll be down in a minute,” you called back, trying to calm your breathing, your voice. “Just— freshening up.” A lie. You wouldn’t fucking touch the products he had arranged exactly like you would on the counter, let alone take a shower. Not trusting that there weren’t any cameras hidden anywhere. 

No, you were stalling. Buying yourself all the time you could before you needed to join him downstairs.

But eventually you need to leave the illusion of safety the bathroom provided with and you do; after splashing water in your face. With Pepper hot on your heels. 

He was in the kitchen again, through the large windows you could see Titan outside, running along the fence. Parameter check, Joel had called it. As if anything could scale that wall of a fence or break through it… The dread that had moved in behind your ribs when you’d realised that the day before, was still there. Threatening to suffocate you for a moment. 

“Mornin,” Joel greeted you, leaning against the counter beside the stove, a mug in his hand. “Figured’s better lettin’ ya decide what ya wanna eat,” he nodded towards the empty dining table. As if you cared. “So?” He prompted after a beat, when you hadn’t responded. 

You weren’t hungry. Your stomach still queasy—- but Joel looked at you like he wouldn’t accept that. “Cereal?” Something safe and easy. For a moment Joel looked like he would argue. Nutritional values and whatnot. 

Can’t live off of greasy take out and sugar forever, babygirl.

But then he nodded, grabbing two bowls from a cupboard. Your stomach twisted when he got your favourite cereal, the kind that was too sweet, too sugary, from the pantry. 

He’d studied you, knew everything about you. That much became clear when he placed a latte spoon beside your bowl. Because you had the habit of choosing those, to eat cereal and even soup with.

And you knew fuck about him. 

You didn’t even know how he knew all of this about you.

He didn’t join you at the table. At least not right away. Giving you time to pick at your food until he came over with a plate of cut up fruits. Apples, pears, grapes and strawberries, that he placed pointedly in front of you. Followed by a steaming mug.

Tea. Something herbal.

“No coffee?” You heard yourself ask. 

“You drink too much caffein, babygirl.” Your insides twisted. “Gotta lower your intake.” 

Right. Of course. He would control that aspect of your life now too. 

You continued to pick at your food. Didn’t eat more than a few grapes, an apple slice and barely three spoons full of cereal. He watched, displeased. But unlike the previous evening, he didn’t urge you to eat more. Instead—- he fucking asked how you’re feeling. 

Fucking smalltalk. Next he would ask you how you slept. 

“Trapped.” You blurted out before you could stop yourself. Because you fucking were. 

His jaw set and for a moment you expected him to yell again, but, “Y’re no prisoner.” 

“Except that I am,” you countered, staring him down. “Else you would let me go.” 

“Can’t.” 

Yep, yep. But you were no prisoner.

“My parents will look for me,” you lied.

“You haven’t spoken to your mother five years, and the rest of your family you see what, once a year?” Fucking hell. He really had done his homework. 

“My friends—-”

“Babygirl,” he interrupted you. “Your coworkers still called ya new girl ’n the free time ya had ya spend alone, or doin’ research.” It stung how spot on he was. “Brought ya only friend.” 

Your jaw set. 

Fuck him. Fuck aaaaaall of this. 

“Had,” you suddenly frowned. “What do you mean called me new girl?”

He looked caught. For the first time since you woke up here, it felt like you chipped away at the world he was carefully crafting around you. 

“What ya mean?” He tried, not quite meeting your eyes. You’d caught him. A slip up. 

“Past tense.” You stared him down still. “What do you mean, called me new girl?”

You could see it. The struggle. The way he fought between a lie and the truth. So he had a tell. A small twitch in his jaw. Like he’d bitten onto something sharp. 

Was it the lie or the truth? 

Something you would attempt to gauge later. For the moment, you waited him out. Not pressin, not asking again, just continuing to stare him down. Until he eventually got up and left. 

When he came back, he carried a tablet, he placed in front of you. Your eyes drifted to the top right corner for the date and time first. 

8:30 AM. October 10th. 

Three fucking days. 

Three fucking days ago he had ripped you from your life. You’d been unconscious for what? Two days? The thought of you unconscious with him for two fucking days left your skin crawling. You were on the verge of pushing the tablet away when you registered what he had meant to show you. 

An article. Of the paper you worked for no less. 

A robbery gone wrong in New York, the alley behind your building. Photographs of a blurred out body, descriptions of you, of injuries you sustained. Blunt force, face bashed in, the content of your bag poured out over you. All valuables gone. The cat food, the granola bars, your water bottle, a magazine you’d bought and other meaningless shit spilled around you. You skimmed over the article, ears ringing again. 

They’d identified you based on your work badge, paired with descriptions of what you’d worn that day. 

“No,” you shook your head. No. They’d test your DNA? Your dental imaging? Except the article mentioned a severely battered face. Fingerprints then. Shouldn’t they check for that? Match your hair to your brush? Anything?

“’s the truth babygirl,” his voice carried the same soft tenor it had all of the day before. Except when he lost his temper. “Wouldn’t lie ‘bout this.” Your mouth opened and clothed. 

No, no, no, no, no!

“World needed t’think y’re dead.” He continued, while you still stared at the screen. “So they think y’re dead.”

No, you think. 

If the world thought you were dead, no one would come looking for you. 

Your stomach lurched painfully. “I’m—- I’m going to be sick.” 

He didn’t follow you up the stairs, didn’t even call after you when you slammed the door shut before doubling over in front of the toilet.

──────────

He left you alone. No attempt to follow you, no knock followed by a muffled babygirl. Nothing. 

Just silence. 

And if you were honest with yourself, you hated that almost more. Because it left you alone with the article. With the descriptions of someone who looked like you, dead in the alley behind your apartment building.

Dead. 

The world thought you were dead. 

No. No, that couldn’t be right. It had to be fake. Fabricated. A scare tactic. Something he had made up to break you down faster. 

Because the alternative—-

Your stomach lurched again. But there was nothing left inside of it so you breathed through the wave of nausea. Tried to find a flaw in what you had read. Something that proved that it was fake. 

Maybe if you could cross-reference? Find other sources, find the original article he had used to forge that one. 

The TV. 

You tried the it again once your hands stopped shaking enough. Because  some news station surely would have answers, right? But nothing. No remote, no means to turn it on. Just your own pale reflection staring back at you from the dark screen.

But even if you would have managed to turn it on… would a robbery gone wrong in New York make the news out here? Wherever he had dragged you to? In the two days you had been unconscious?

Fuck.

You vision blurred. Tears you desperately bit back, because no. No! You refused to let this to let him get to you. 

Think. Think! Use your fucking brain. You’re smart. You could figure this out, you—-

Your laptop. 

In the room just down the hall from yours, on a desk near the window. He had showed it to you yesterday. Right by your notebook. 

Closed server.

Can’t let you access every page.

But you had spend enough years online and breaking through parental controls and finding ways into databases you had no means to be in… surely you would find a loophole? Through whatever block he had in place?

The door to the office—- library whatever that room was, was just across, a little ways down. Toward the stairs, not his bedroom in the far end of the hall. So close. Close enough that you didn’t need to face him. And yet you still faltered at the door, fingers around the handle.

Bracing yourself. 

For whatever laid behind that door and a google search of your own name. 

Provided you could still access google. Or any other search engine.

You held your breath, opening the door and slipping out the room, all the way across the hall and into the other room, where you quickly grab your laptop, charger, notebook and pencil case, nearly tripping over a tray that was beside your door on your way back. You hadn’t seen it when you rushed out, but now it was impossible to miss. 

Dry crackers and a thermos of what you presume to be tea. 

Yeah, right. 

Because that would help you feel better. Would make it aaaaaall go away.

Fuck him. 

You retreat back into the faux security bathroom. 

Upon first glance, your laptop seemed normal, too so when you booted it. You could log in without an issue, the familiarity that came with your fingers flying over the keyboard as you typed your password in, a small comfort. 

But something was off. 

The browser worked—- your countless emotional support tabs still open. So that wasn’t it. Except you hadn’t tried yet if they all loaded. You did once you realised that your mail app had vanished and with it every other messaging app you had installed. Slack, Zoom, Teams, all of it. Social Media included.

Their online counterparts inaccessible. 

Error 404. No matter how often you hit the refresh button. 

You dug through the applications folder, looking for a program, in the downloads folder or trash for traces of one, but there was nothing. How the fuck were you supposed to find a work around if you didn’t know what you were up against? 

A set of notes filled a new page in your notebook. Google worked. Seemingly. Any other search engine did too, but nothing that involved location tracing of any kind. No maps, no weather app, nothing that could tell you where your were. 

Not even location based pop-ups, an annoying nuisance under any other circumstances, worked.

You were one more Error 404 page not found message away from throwing your laptop across the room when you remembered why you had gotten it in the first place. 

Right, the article he had showed you. 

You googled yourself, finding an onslaught of entries. You clicked yourself from search result to search result. Every single one summarising the same information about your supposed passing. 

Maybe he forged them. But all of them? 

He had wiped your laptop of the ability of location tracing. Someone who could do that, could surely fake an article or two or three or ten or… three pages worth of search results full. The articles you had published, that followed after, were all legit.

So unlikely. But he had to have faked it all! He had to! To get to you, to make sure you knew there was no one coming for you.

But a video too? You hesitated, before clicking the play button. A news segment from a smaller, local news station. A series of similar cases—- you vaguely remember about reading about a string of robberies. “The latest victim in an increasingly more violent series of robberies,” the reporter opened, standing in front of your apartment building, the entrance to the alley covered in police tape. 

She summarised what you had read in the articles, found by a passers-by, all valuables gone. Apparently there had been talk about your father coming in to identify, but then they compared your DNA to the hair and toothbrush found in the apartment.

Proof enough.

Your eyes drifted towards the tooth brush on the counter by the sink. “It just makes no sense,” a familiar voice, thick with tears drew your attention back to the screen in front of you. Alice. She had started with you, shared your desk. The closest relationship you had to a work friend, “I told her not to stay too long,” a quiet sniffle “Maybe if she would have left with me then…” the reporter said something you couldn’t quite make out. A watery laugh escaped Alice. “Yeah, she was glued to her laptop. Always looking for a story, for a lead,” she shook her head. 

You snapped the laptop shut so fast you almost snapped your fingers, but you barely noticed. 

Your breathing sounded wrong. Too loud, too uneven. Panic fuelling every inhale. 

Dead. The world thought you were dead. 

Alice crying on the screen. Blaming herself because you hadn’t left with her — she’d asked you so often. Sometimes with the suggestion that the two of you could grab a bite. But no, you’d stayed after hours. Eager to proof yourself. Maybe if you would have gone with her, just once? Maybe things would be different and you wouldn’t be here right now.

Or presumed dead.

The toothbrush, the DNA—- rock solid confirmation that it was your body they had found in the alley. Except it wasn’t. 

Because you were here. In the middle of fucking nowhere. At the mercy of a man who knew you so intimately, he had filled the closet in with clothes you’d buy yourself.

And the world thought you were dead.

Your stomach turned violently. 

No one was coming. 

──────────

“How?” Dread had curdled into something sharper. Something frantic, ugly and desperate—- 

Because stories fell apart under pressure. Details mattered, you knew that and mistakes happened.

They had to. 

Because a mistake would mean that someone was looking for you.

“What?” Joel looked up from the book he was reading. Lounging comfortable on the couch. Like he hadn’t staged your whole fucking death.

“How did you do it?” You pressed on. Titan rose immediately, hopping off the couch, tail wagging, to greet you. Pepper barely lifted her head, where she was curled near Joel. 

The sight twisted something bitter in your stomach. 

“Fake my death!” You forced yourself to look at him, “How did you do it?”

There. That small twitch in his jaw again. Gone as fast as it appeared. “Babygirl—-”

“How?” You interrupted sharply. “The body, the DNA match…” you stared him down, “How?”

The twitch returned, sharper this time. Not anger or irritation, restraint. Like he was chewing the truth between his teeth while deciding how much to give you.

“’s not hard. Cleaned out your brush, made sure her hair was in it. Swapped tooth brushes,” a shrug, “Made sure no identifying features were left behind, left your work badge to imply it was you,” Your stomach dropped. “Body shape fits for the most part, ’s close enough anyways, weight an hight too. Made sure she was dressed like ya. They don’t look too closely if they don’t have ta.” 

Cooking instructions. Not even cold and calculated. Just… indifferent.

Nausea gripped your throat tight. 

A heavy head pressed into your thigh, a quiet huff. Titan—- your hand settled on him, grounding yourself. “Who was she?” Your voice sounded far away.

“No one,” he shook his head. “Not important.” He had killed her because of you. “Don’t stress y’self over it. ’s no good.” 

“You–- you killed someone!” Your voice cracked under the weight of the realisation that not just your life had been ruined but another one too. 

“Solved a problem,” Joel countered, his voice in the same calm tenor it had carried since the first word he’d spoken to you. “Needed you safe babygirl, ’n I found a way t’make sure y’were.” 

You focused onto Titan. On the weight of his head against your thigh, on how heavily he leaned into you. Still hearing Joel, even over your racing heartbeat. But also not hearing him. Titan huffed again when your fingers curled tighter into his fur. 

Warm and solid and real. 

Unlike the conversation happening around you. Joel kept speaking. Calmly, like it was pure logistics. Like he was explaining how he had fixed a leak or repaired a fence, instead of—

Your stomach twisted violently again. Couldn’t even bring yourself to finish the thought. 

But someone was dead. 

Because of you.

Your eyes drifted toward Joel despite of yourself. He looked… normal. Relaxed against the couch, book abandoned beside him now. Not shaken, or guilty, not even angry. 

Just certain. 

And if you were honest with yourself, that terrified you more than when he had yelled. 

──────────

“You haven’t showered,” matter of fact. And the truth no less. A week in your prison — you’d used your laptop to track the time and days; and you still wore the clothes you had woken up in. You must reek no doubt, because freshening up without undressing only did so much. 

Not that hygiene was on the top of your list right now. As grimy as you felt.

“Not gonna give you a show,” you bit. He’d left you be for the most part, only insisting you came downstairs for breakfast lunch and dinner. Giving you time to find a comment section, a forum, anything you could leave a message for help under. Or pinpoint your location. 

Unsuccessfully so far.

“What?” Joel looked puzzled. 

“How do I know where you’ve hidden cameras,” you huffed, pushing the pancakes he had made for breakfast around your plate. Even if you trusted him now not to poison you or drug you, again, you still didn’t eat properly. 

Not quite hungry.

He didn’t push you to. Hadn’t since the first dinner. Displeased as he looked. 

“Ain’t hiding any cameras.” 

“Sure,” you made it clear that you didn’t believe him.

Joel sighed, getting up. “C’mere a second.”

You followed, reluctantly, aware you didn’t really have a choice, to the small mud room where your coat and boots still were right beside his. You knew better than to argue, grabbed your coat and slipped into your boots before following him outside. Always a couple steps behind him.

Titan bolted past you, Pepper in tow when Joel lead you across the yard, toward the barn where Pepper had stayed at first. Your stomach twisted tighter with every step closer. Unease accompanying you. 

The inside looked… normal. 

Tools, shelves, extension cords, camping gear, lock-boxes, a work bench cluttered with things you didn’t recognise and what you assumed to be a weapon safe. 

Hard as you tried, you your eyes kept drifting back towards it.

Joel reached into a drawer and pulled out a small black device, he held out for you to take. “What’s that?” You asked, eying it curiously, not stepping any closer or making a move to take it. 

“Camera detector.”

You blinked, “What?” 

“You don’t believe me.” Matter of fact, because it was the truth. “Figured this’s easier.” When you still made no move to reach for the device, he sighed, leading you back outside. “Here,” he switched it on. Immediately a loud beep rung through the air, followed by a set of red dots appearing on the black screen. “Shows y’where,” he explained, moving the device towards the gate, the closer he moved towards it, the faster the beeping. “Got ‘em all around the fence line,” he explained, pressing a button on the monitor before pointing the device towards one of the camera’s. “Locks the position in. Y’can figure out the range, blindspots, the works” he held the device out for you again and this time you took it. “’s yours,” he offered with a nod before heading back inside. Leaving you to try out the device and locate every single camera in your immediate proximity. 

Both visible and invisible. 

There were two near the mudroom door, one with a view of the door, one with a view of the steps leading to it. Try as you might, you couldn’t find them by just looking, but you could see yourself on the small monitor, in front of the door. 

So it worked and wasn’t just to placate you. 

You hadn’t thanked him. Not when he had pressed the device into your hands, not when he had headed back toward the house. Leaving you standing in the yard with the detector and too many thoughts clawing at your skull. 

Titan lingered beside you for a moment, watching curiously as you turned the device over in your hands before eventually trotting after Joel. 

Leaving you with Pepper who purred around your feet.

You stayed where you were. Cold biting through your coat, but you barely noticed it. Because the thing in your hands felt heavy. Real and functional. Not some cheap gimmick, no plastic nonsense. It was real and you had just proven to yourself that it worked.

Detecting a string of cameras. 

You swallowed hard before you went inside too, Pepper following you. The smell of food hit you immediately when you stepped back inside. Something warm and buttery—- the pancakes still on the table, abandoned alongside your untouched tea. 

You haven’t had coffee since you got here. 

Joel looked up briefly from the sink where he scrubbed away at the pan. You ignored him completely. Not out of bravery or ignorance. 

Focus. You needed to focus.

The detector still clutched tightly in your hands, you moved through the house. Your pulse loud enough to drown out everything else. 

The living room first. 

Nothing. No red dot, no beeping. 

You scanned slowly, methodically, the same way you approached research. Corners first, then bookshelves, lamps, smoke detector, heating vents and everything in-between. 

Still nothing.

Refusing to enter the kitchen space and give him the satisfaction of seeing that you had no choice but to believe him. because he had proven your claim of cameras wrong, so you headed towards the stairs. 

Your stomach twisted tighter, the closer you got to your — you still refused to see it as that, had slept, if you slept at all, in the bathroom exclusively; room. 

It was easier not to trust him, to question everything he claimed. Being presented with the cold, harsh truth that you could trust him, didn’t sit right with you. 

You paused in the doorway, bracing yourself for a moment. Then you started, same as before. Corners, lamps, shelves, mirror, TV—- nothing. The bathroom next. The detector stayed silent. No blinking lights, no warning tone. You checked again, just to be sure, slower this time. Bed frame, desk, closet. 

Still nothing. Frustration started bleeding into panic now. “No, c’mon!” You muttered under your breath, scanning the mirror again. 

Nothing.

You dropped to your knees beside the sink cabinet, checked under it, then the shower head, the bathroom cabinet—- a faint ping! No loud and distressed beep, but a ping, accompanied by a red dot located toward your right. 

“I fucking knew it!” You hissed, following the dot that lead you to the towels. 

Triumph didn’t come. 

Because instead of a hidden camera, you pulled your laptop from between the them. Right where you stashed it, sure you’d noticed if he dug through them to find it. 

“No,” distress clouded your voice when you opened it and the detector pinged again. The build in webcam. 

Defeat washed over you. 

If the device even discovered web cams, that were turned off no less, it would discover any hidden camera too. Turned on or not. 

You should have felt relieved, because this meant you had actual privacy. A space where you weren’t observed. 

But instead it made your skin scrawl. Because it meant he had said the truth. And Joel couldn’t have been honest with you. You refused to believe that, refused to believe him, you—

A sharp knock sounded against the bedroom doorframe, louder than you ever had heard it before. You nearly jumped out of your skin. 

You’d forgotten to close the doors.

And he hadn’t entered unannounced. Lingered in front of it. Fuck him. Fuck him and his attempts to get you at ease. He might have told you the truth about the cameras, he might be seemingly respecting your space. You still didn’t trust him an inch, and you never fucking would. 

Stockholm Syndrome be damned. 

“Ease babygirl,” Joel’s voice came calmly, his hands held up. He’d noticed he’d startled you. “Didn’t find anything, huh?” He tilted his head, not smug, not I told you so, just… certain. 

“No,” you admitted quietly. 

Something unreadable flickered across his face. Relief maybe, because he had hidden whatever he used to observe you well enough—- or just satisfaction, because now you needed to accept that you could trust him. “Good,” he nodded to himself. “Told ya, ain’t watching you babygirl.”

“But you have!” You snapped how else would he know so much about you. 

“’s true. Used cameras then,” your jaw set. “But I ain’t now. ’s no prison. I already told you. ’s your home now too.”

“No it’s not!” You snapped, “I had a home. A life! And you took it all away.” Tears bit at your eyes. 

“‘m sorry babygirl. Had no choice, they would’ve sent someone other, if I wouldn’t have…” 

“I’d rather be dead than here with you!” You yelled and something in his expression hardened for a moment. 

“You don’t mean that,” he didn’t shout back “Know’s all still ‘bit much,” Still that same calm tone he always used. “Hot water takes a moment t’kick,” he nodded toward the bathroom, before he stepped out of the door. “Gonna make chilli for lunch,” you watched him close it. 

Like you hadn’t just told him you’d rather be dead than with him. 

──────────

A knock drew you from your notebook. You’d still set up fort in the bathroom, still refused to sleep in a room you couldn’t lock. But sitting on the tiles can only be comfortable for so long. 

You alternated between the the desk, because it disappeared behind the door if he opened it and sitting on the plush rug behind the bed, overlooking the impenetrable sea of trees. 

Try as you might, there were no landmarks in sight, nothing to help you pinpoint your location, no matter how long you stared out of the window. 

Your notebook had filled up with attempts to find a way to bypass whatever script was in place that prevented you from accessing any form of outside-communication or gps based tracking. You left it face down on the floor, laptop closed, when you headed for the door. 

Joel stood in front of it, Pepper immediately darting past your legs and into the room. You’d given up on finding her after the meals Joel still insisted you share, letting her roam the house and yard. 

As much as you hated the thought of her hanging with Joel. Because, how could she trust him? He knocked every so often, when she wanted to be with you.

Titan stood beside him, plush bunny between his teeth, tail wagging, a hopeful look in his eyes. You had tripped over him on multiple occasions when Joel called you for dinner or lunch. Because the pup had slept in front of the door. And if not Titan himself then his toys, the soft pink bunny plush included, left in front of the door like offerings. 

You sighed and stepped aside, making space for him to enter. Wasn’t his fault, that his owner was a deranged lunatic that kept you hostage. That had killed to make sure no one came looking for you. 

“Gonna make burgers for dinner,” you didn’t look at Joel when Titan tried his best to keep his cool and not pounce into the room following your invitation. Barely managing to contain his excitement. “Fries too,” he was still looking for a food you wouldn’t pick at, a good three weeks in. 

“Sure,” was all you gave, your eyes still on Titan who’d curiously sniffed the camera-detection-device you’d kept on the. You switched it on every so often, to test, to make sure. To still find nothing.

“Dinner’s—-”

“At six-thirty, I know,” you interrupted him with a nod before pushing the door shut again. 

Breakfast at 8 AM, lunch 12:30 PM and dinner 6:30 PM. 

Not a minute early, not a minute late. Not that it mattered, given you still didn’t really eat. Pushing the food more around the plate than anything else. Sometimes he asked what you wanted to eat, other times he tried with foods he knew you liked. 

Like the burger. 

You settled back behind the bed, Pepper had curled up on it and Titan blocked the space between the bed and the wall. Closing you into the space. 

Oddly enough, you didn’t feel trapped, but found a sense of comfort and safety in it.

“Babygirl,” an air of desperation accompanied the word. “Ya have t’eat, please?” you had lost weight. Not dramatically, but enough to show up in the way your clothes fit — you refused to wear the ones he had bought for you still. Made use of what was yours. Washing them in the sink and tub with shower gel instead of taking up his offer of laundry, “Whatever ya want? Screw balanced!” He’d made scrambled eggs and bacon for breakfast and again you’d picked at the food, the fruit too. 

All you offered him was a shrug.

Titan was a frequent visitor to your bedroom now. Sometimes joining you as early as after breakfast, heading up the stairs alongside you and then staying pretty much all day. 

Seemingly choosing to be with you over Joel. Unlike Pepper, who curled up on the couch, near the fire that now constantly burned, the colder it had gotten. She wasn’t choosing him, but the warmth, you told yourself. 

She just was where the warmth was. Which was, unfortunately, where Joel was.

Meanwhile Titan slept in front of the closed bathroom door. 

“Ya want to cook?” Joel tried, you’d barely touched lunch. No more than a few bites, not even a third of the portion of pasta he had served you. 

“I don’t cook,” You’d shot him a biter smile, because of course he knew. “Greasy take out and sugar, remember?” He was getting desperate. Laying out chips and candy in an effort to get you to eat something. 

Every so often you took a candy bar, and when he sent Titan up with a bag of chips between his teeth like some odd peace offering, you didn’t toss them down the stairs either. Even sodas had popped up on the kitchen counter, full of sugar and caffeine. Wherever he’d gotten them from… Maybe he had had them the whole time. You hadn’t glanced into the fridge or pantry, it was all the same to you. 

Titan had taken to sleeping in the bathroom with you. Cuddled in close. A sliver of comfort in the painful reality your life had turned into in the last month. Whether it bothered or pleased him that Titan had taken to you the way he had and you allowed him in close, you didn’t know. You didn’t care either. 

Wasn’t the pup’s fault what Joel had done.

You still googled yourself periodically, at first with the blind hope that maybe someone had realised that it all had been staged, but then you’d gotten your hands on the coroner’s report, reading in fast detail about what he had done to ensure the world believed you were dead. 

The dog had run off to get him, when you’d gotten sick again, stressed and scared. Touching, in any other circumstance, but with Joel calling from the bedroom door, asking if you were okay…

Tea and crackers had popped up again on a tray, after you’d yelled a leave me the fuck alone. 

Now you only googled your name to remind yourself that your old life, was real. That you really had it. Reading publications, articles you run for your collage paper, or worked on in New York. Scrapes, of your existence, that had just stopped. 

All because Joel had decided to end it. 

To save you.

Yeah, right.

Dinner wasn’t ready when you came downstairs like every evening at 6:30 PM. He was in the kitchen, sure, but there wasn’t anything on the stove or in the oven, as far as you could tell. 

“Uhm…” you blinked confused. 

“Figured I’d try somethin’ different,” he offered, nodding towards a box of Kraft Mac&Cheese on the counter. “Ya like that stuff, right? Nuggets too,” The only food you cooked, if one wanted to call it that; was Mac&Cheese. 

Of course he knew that. 

You shrugged and Joel nodded. 

“Been a while since I made this,” he eyed the box for a moment before pushing a can of watermelon soda toward you. And somehow the thought of Joel making and eating Kraft Mac&Cheese didn’t quite fit the image you had of him.

You didn’t take the obvious bait, staying on your side of the counter, away from him. But you took the soda, sipping it while he got water to boil in a pot. 

“’s okay. Go on, take it.” Your attention had drifted again and again and again to the knife block. The thought of taking one, hadn’t left you. You just hadn’t found a way to get one, without him knowing right away. 

Because he would know sooner or later. Given a knife would be missing. And you’d rather he found out when you already had it in your hands.

“Don’t hide it under y’pillow. Y’ll just hurt yourself,” he continued, like he hadn’t just told you to grab a knife to protect yourself and potentially harm him with. 

Keeping your eyes on him, while he stirred the butter into the drained pasta, you moved closer to the knife blog, grabbing the biggest and sharpest from the assortment, before rushing back to the other side of the kitchen island. 

Joel didn’t stop you, didn’t comment on it either, when you kept it with you at the dining table, a plate of Mac&Cheese, Chicken Nuggets and ketchup in front of you. 

He hadn’t even added broccoli, or insisted on any other vegetable. The soda hadn’t been replaced by water either. His plate matched yours. He even had gotten a soda, a root beer, just to stare at the plate like it had personally offended him. 

Until you started eating, one fork, than another, a nugget too, fingers idly tracing the knife’s handle. You didn’t see it, having taken to looking at him as little as possible, but he relaxed, starting to eat too. 

You didn’t finish the whole plate, but you ate more than you had in the last month. A start, as far as Joel was concerned. 

Titan accompanied you, when you headed upstairs, the knife in your hand. Joel was right, hiding it under your pillow or anywhere too close where you could accidentally hurt yourself, was a terrible idea. So you left it on the nightstand beside you, when you settled behind the bed again. With your notebook and laptop. 

Except you didn’t really get any research done. Your body heavy, your mind a little sluggish. Not the drugged kind, but the food-coma kind. So when Joel knocked a little later because Pepper decided to come cuddling for the night, you caved. Settling onto the bed with her, notebook and pen in hand, the knife within reach, you set up against the headboard, at the far side of the bed. Away from the door. 

Staring at the crossed out list, detailing your attempts to find a working comment section.

──────────

You woke to light and stale air fanning over your face. 

Titan’s massive head rested on the mattress in front of you, his nose almost touching yours. “Your breath stinks,” you groaned, pulling a face. The pup huffed, as if to give you another sample. “Why are you up anyway?” You grumbled, blinking against the early morning light past his head and out the window.

The sun? Why were you seeing the sun?

You were on your feet and out of the bed the second the realisation that you must have fallen asleep in it, hit. 

Pepper complained loudly and Titan whined confused. 

You had fucking fallen asleep on the bed. Heavy and tired after dinner… the door was still closed, and the knife exactly where you had left it. Within reach, and the opened notebook beside you. 

Once your pulse had settled, you checked the time on your laptop. 

9:30 AM. You’d slept through breakfast. Normally you always woke early, barely sleeping as it was, anticipating his knock. Today you had slept right through it and Joel hadn’t even opened the door to get Titan out.

You didn’t know how that made you feel. You didn’t want to linger on it either. 

Titan followed you downstairs, once you had brushed your teeth and washed your face. Having given in after your first shower and you started to use the products he’d bought. Unlike the clothes. Exclusively sticking to your own still. Pepper was already off wandering through the house.

Joel wasn’t in the kitchen or living room and neither was a breakfast waiting for you, nor a talking to for oversleeping. He was outside, by the barn, chopping wood. You had seen him, when you let Titan out. Coat hung up, sleeves rolled up. His back was to you, muscles working when he rose the axe up high before forcing it down.

Sheer, brutal force.

You didn’t linger to watch. Sure that Titan trotting up to him had alerted him that you were awake now. For a moment you considered just disappearing back upstairs, but then curiosity and hunger prompted you to take a peak into the fridge and pantry.

Both exceptionally well stocked which left the question of how. As far as you knew he hadn’t left the property in the weeks since you’d gotten here. And yet there was fresh produce. 

A question you filed for later, exiting the latter with Nutella, honey and toast. You were seated at the kitchen island, a half empty glass of orange juice and a plate with a honey and a Nutella toast each in front of you, when he came back inside. 

You had even added sliced banana to the toasts. 

For a split second you struggled with your fight or flight response until you managed to ignore him, focusing on your plate. 

“Mornin,” he greeted you, getting a bottle of water from the fridge. His hair sweat slicked. 

“Morning,” you offered, still expecting a talking to for missing breakfast, but it didn’t come. Instead you watched him fill Titan’s bowl, letting the pup sit in front of it. 

His attention on Joel instead of the food, until: “Go on.” 

Would that work if you tried it too?

“Y’still wanna eat at twelve-thirty?” He asked, leaning against the counter by the stove. “Or later?”

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly, finishing the honey-banana toast. “Maybe?” A shrug. 

“Imma ask you around twelve then,” he nodded, before heading for the stairs, the bottle, half empty now, still in his hand. 

You didn’t wait for him to come back downstairs, disappearing back into your room, a couple minutes later the half finished Nutella toast in tow. 

This time around you settled at the desk, pointedly avoiding the bed. 

A month in and you hadn’t gotten anywhere. You neither knew where you were nor had you found any means to communicate with the outside world. 

Fuck.

Instead of googling for the same five things again, you opened a new page in your notebook, writing a new headline. Joel, underlined twice before the page filled with what you knew about him, or rather what you didn’t know about him.

full name: ???

age: ???

occupation: Hitman? problem solution

former occupation: ??? (ex-military? maybe)

accent: southern → Texan?

hight: too fucking tall 6’5? 5’11?

strength: intimidating

handedness: right

smoker: not sure, doubtful

drinker: not sure

pet: dog - Titan → hated animal cruelty; Pepper took to him :(((

family: none? 

The sound of a heavy paw tapping insistently against the door interrupted you. Titan. You knew he could open the door, he had when you’d gotten sick after reading the coroner’s report. To alert Joel. But that had remained the only time he’d opened it.

Apparently respecting you enough not to barge in like his owner, politely knocking instead. You got up to let him in, the pup immediately settling under the desk… or rather, squeezing under. Not at all minding that your feet rested on top of him, when you sat back down too.

“Can’t you tell me anything about him?” You asked him, after staring at the mostly empty page for what felt like an eternity. Fondly scratching behind his ear. No answer, go figure. So you find yourself googling are hitman real? And problem solution instead. Clicking yourself from hyperlink to hyperlink, as if he’d pop up eventually if you only clicked the right one.

“Babygirl?” A knock rung through the room at 12 PM on the dot. You no longer fought him on the nickname. Figured the only thing worse, was hearing him utter your name. “Ya wanna have lunch?” You contemplated. You weren’t hungry, not really, but maybe you could use lunch to ask some well placed questions? 

“Uhm, something light maybe?” You called back. 

“Good,” he sounded happy, while you added to your list.

behaviour: strange, outlandish, weird, bizarre, lunatic, a freak

“Twelve-thirty?” He asked, and you added another point to your notebook.

punctual: anal about it

“Yeah.” 

You flicked to a new page: Groceries? 

How? 

Delivery? 

Frequent grocery runs? 

But when? Delivery from where? 

If he had deliveries then not to the house, you were sure of that. Even if you were locked into your room for most of the time, you were sure you’d know if any cars pulled up. Alone because you presumed Titan who took frequent runs along the fence, territorial enough to react if anyone pulled up. 

So how?

He’d made tomato soup and grilled cheese. Comfort food, already set up on the dining table, along with a glass of water and a watermelon soda. 

A choice then. 

You opted for the soda, when you sat down. 

“I don’t remember when I last had one of these,” you heard yourself say, grabbing one of the sandwiches. You had to be smart about this. After ignoring him pointedly for the last four weeks, you couldn’t just start asking personal questions. 

“That so?” Joel looked amused, dipping a sandwich into his soup bowl. 

“Greasy take out, remember?” You asked, making a mental note of adding can cook to your list. “I’m guessing you don’t get that out here?” 

“Y’want some?” Not an answer to your question, but it implied that he did. 

“Don’t know,” a shrug, “Might just make me more homesick,” not even a lie. 

“‘m sorry babygirl,” he sounded genuine and you you hated that you couldn’t find anything in his expression that alluded that he wasn’t. “If there’s anythin’ ya want…” he trailed off and you’d seen the fridge and pantry now. You knew that he had everything you liked in stock. 

“How?” You decided to bite the bullet. 

“Grocery run?” He seemed puzzled. “’s not like I’m makin my own cheese?” That obvious, huh? “Tomatoes’re from t’green house.”

“So you…  you leave me alone?”

“Babygirl,” it wasn’t pity in his eyes but something close, “‘ve. How ya think we’ve fresh bananas ’n apples?” You purse your lips, suddenly feeling ridiculously stupid. He’d left you alone here and you hadn’t even realised? Locked into your room, avoiding him like the plague. 

Why hadn’t he told you?

Because you had gone out of your way to ignore him. 

“Not for a grocery run. Just t’property line.” So at the end of the winding road that cut through the sea of trees. “T’pick the groceries up. Would let ya know if I went out longer or left t’property. Ask if you had anythin’ ya wanted.”

“Aren’t you worried that I’ll go snooping?” You blurt out, because you most definitely would. 

“Nah,” he laughed, “Ya no prisoner, babygirl. I told ya. Can go ’n do whatever ya want here,” within the fence line, but he didn’t point that out again. “Nothin’s off limits.” 

Nothing was off limits? 

You somehow didn’t believe that. 

“Gotta say ‘m surprised ya haven’t explored yet, bein’ investigative ’n all.”

You pushed your plate back, a sandwich and a half, a bit of soup and stood aprubtly. “Thank’s for lunch, I’m full.” You headed toward the stairs, back to ignoring Joel. But if you would have turned around, you would have seen that he looked like he wanted to kick himself. 

──────────

You made an x with a pencil behind both delivery and grocery runs, before flicking back to your page about Joel. 

Cooked: surprisingly well → healthy + balanced → wanted me to eat balanced and healthy

A couple of keywords followed: 

up early

rarely rises voice → almost unsettingly calm

likes control (?)

never enters room unless invited (?) 

always knocks

observant

oddly (?) honest (?)

His comment still irritated you. 

Because he was right. Because if you wouldn’t have been so busy avoiding him and hiding yourself away as a result — to be fair you had tried to find a work around his internet set-up too; you’d already gone digging. Snooping around. Trying to figure out more about him, your whereabouts, and anything you could use against him. 

Physically, like the knife that still laid on the bedside table and figuratively, like information you could use to your benefit and against him.

 So a good too hours after lunch, you marched out of your room, Titan in tow, pointedly striding past Joel who sat on the couch, with Pepper, that traitor, a crossword puzzle in his hand — you needed to add that to your list; and to the mud room.

Your hat and scarf had appeared on the hook by your coat, and you slipped into them and your boots, well aware that Joel was watching you. It was irritating that he didn’t ask what you were up to, so maybe there was a little too much force in opening the door and then your steps through the snow too.

Titan followed, prancing througharound like a deer, looking silly enough to replace your irritation with a laugh, temporarily at least. 

He didn’t join you in the barn right away, neither did Joel. Which didn’t mean that he wouldn’t eventually. 

The fluorescent overhead lamps switched on with a hum, illuminating the cold air. It smelled like sawdust and motor oil, like metal and wood. The barn looked as clean as it had when he had led you here to get the detection device. 

Everything seemed to have its place. 

A row of tools up along the length of one wall. Axes, saws, power tools, more than you could name. Beneath spanned a massive work bench, unfinished projects scattered across it, you stepped closer, inspecting something that looked like a small shelf. 

The wall at the far end of the barn, toward the large door, had a set of tires and snow chains mounted to it. You knew he had a car, he must have. But it wasn’t in here An ATV was, and a snowmobile too. You made a beeline for them. No plates, no keys. But maybe if you could find the keys… Joel had said nothing was off limits, right? Surely they were somewhere. 

A door beside the gun safe, caught your attention. Curiously, you abandoned the vehicles and any thoughts you had of hot wiring them — you’d need to google how to; in favour of it. It wasn’t like the door was hidden, but something about it seemed… off.

Because it looked too modern for the rest of the barn. 

You tried the handle, locked. 

Go figure. 

What a fucking liar.

Determined to get in, you grabbed a screwdriver and attempted to wedge it between the door and the frame. 

“Door’s locked for a reason babygirl,” Joel’s voice startled you. He hadn’t yelled, had stuck to the same calm tone he always had. 

“So? You said nothing is off limits!” You huffed, still trying get into the room. 

“True,” he agreed, sounding amused, stepping toward you. “’s nothing secretive,” he pulled a key from his pocket. Not a whole set of them, just one. 

A master key? Or had he known you’d try the door?

“Then why is it locked?” You countered, arms crossed. 

“’s a fire door babygirl. Don’t want my barn burnin’ down,” he explained, opening the door and switching the same fluorescent ceiling lights on. The room was as methodically organised as the rest of the barn. “’s fuel storage, for t’ATV an t’car, generators too.”

“You use generators?” 

“Don’t. ’s back up. Just in case. Solar works fine.” Made sense. You hadn’t seen any power lines. 

“Doesn’t solar need the sun?” You hear yourself ask, glancing out towards the trees past the fence line. The sun was already disappearing within them. 

“True,” Joel agreed, amusement still in his voice. “Got batteries that’ll last us a year an then some, an if that ain’t enough…”

“You got back up generators, got it,” you nodded.

“Room’s a precaution. Shit is flammable, fertiliser an other chemicals too. Ain’t taking any chances,” he explained, locking the door again. 

methodical, careful

You got that, you supposed, even if you were disappointed because you’d thought you’d caught him. 

As if that would have made a difference about your predicament…

On the way back  — Titan prancing around you like he was auditioning for the lead in Rudolph the Reindeer; he lead you away from the door to the mud room and toward the gate instead. “’s where the system’s set up,” he explained, pointing out a small shed looking building off to the side. Closer to the house than the barn was.

You’d been at the gate when you’d looked for the cameras, you’d seen the shed too but hadn’t paid it much attention them. 

“Both solar an geothermal pump’s in there.” 

“Geo-what?”

“Geothermal pump, keeps the house warm.” 

Another thing you’d google. 

Geothermal pumps and how to hot wire an ATV or a snowmobile. A car too, potentially. If you figured out where he’d hidden his. A driveway all the way to the gate from the side of the house was shovelled, but—- you hadn’t yet seen a garage. 

And you didn’t want to ask either.

──────────

You hadn’t wanted to sleep in the bed again. Even if he could easily open the lock on the bathroom door, you preferred sleeping in a lockable room over an unlockable one any day.

Except the floor in the bathroom wasn’t just uncomfortable, it was painful enough that you barely slept. 

And the bed had been comfortable—- and you had the knife. 

That and Joel hadn’t even opened the door to get Titan in the morning, when you’d slept through his knock. 

Begrudgingly, in a sense, you moved out into the bed, properly this time, and under the comforter with Pepper curling up beside you and Titan on a blanket between the foot of bed and the door. 

And the knife on the nightstand beside you. 

Not that you would admit it, but you slept better. Actually finding rest and no longer feeling like you were operating on low power mode and exhaustion. 

Filling your notebook pages about Joel came easier too, because it was easier to think when you were rested. You added pages about the layout of the house too. 

Built to last and withstand

off-the-grid

a fortress in the middle of nowhere

Along with notes about the layout and rooms, and the property. Complete with rough sketches.

The latter you had explored with a prancing Titan, who’d been thrilled to catch snowballs you’d been throwing. Discovering, that the main gate aside, there were two more smaller doors, leading off into the surrounding forest. 

Both locked of course. Which prompted the thought of a master key again. Because Joel didn’t carry a whole key ring around with himself.

After the barn, you had inspected the small mud room. Not that there was much there. Shoes, both yours and his and an array of coats, hats, scarfs and gloves. And a set of boots for Titan coats and what you assumed, were old sweatshirts of Joel. So far you hadn’t seen the pup wear them, even though it had gotten cold. 

Perhaps for prolonged outings in the cold.

Something about Joel dressing up Titan too felt both incredibly right and endearing in a way you didn’t want to feel. 

pet: dog - Titan → hated animal cruelty; Pepper took to him :(((  → cared for Titan well, loved him dearly 

Outside of the fully and methodically stocked fridge, freezer and pantry, the kitchen didn’t offer anything unusual either. A knife was still missing from the block and as far as you could tell, in terms of gadgets, he pretty much had everything the market had to offer. 

Food was still an issue. Less so, because you ate a little better now, your appetite returning with the amount of restful sleep you now got, but you still didn’t eat to his liking. 

You’d made a study of him.

watched you eat before eating himself, ate what you ate

huffed through his nose → sighing, annoyance, disbelief, at times amusement too

flared his nostrils → controlled anger (when you picked at your food instead of eating)

a twitch in his jaw → fighting the urge to lie

You had had your suspicions about the latter since your conversation with him about the how he had staged your death. You’d confirmed it by asking him where he had taken you. Where you were. Watching the twitch appear before he asked you why it mattered. 

Not the truth but also not a lie.

Unfortunately, your why wouldn’t it? And, because I want to know hadn’t gotten him to budge. He wouldn’t even give you the state you were in. 

The living room on the other hand, helped you shape the image of him further. You tore through it while he was outside, hanging bird feed. An excessive BlueRay collection filled the shelves on either side of the TV, a fair amount of books  — plus you knew he had a library like setting upstairs, across from your bedroom; too.

Westerns, survival manuals, history books, repair guides, old paperbacks of the classics and even books on dog training and that was just the living room. Who knew what he had upstairs?

liked to read, did crossword puzzles

Neither reading or crossword puzzles were hobbies you would connect with a hitman.

The living room looked almost too big for one alone. Even with a dog as massive as Titan. Based on the wear and tear of the couch you could tell that he kept to the recliner for the most part, or the end of the couch nearest to the fire place. Where a blanket was neatly folded into a square, that pepper used as a cat bed. 

There was no excessive liquor shelf or bar, just a set of different Bourbons. 

drinker: not sure, if then Bourbon

And while the remote laid on the couch table, you didn’t think you’d ever seen it turned on since you getting here.

All of that was interesting enough, but what really drew your attention was a single photograph, the only one in the whole room — and house, so far you could tell; surrounded by books in a shelf near the hearth. A worn box beside it. The picture displayed a young girl, twelve or thirteen, if you had to guess. It showed her laughing, and from the looks of it somewhere outside but not here. 

Less trees. 

The box beside it was an old music box. Well loved, not a single speck of dust on it. The hand-carved details were delicate, the varnish covering them a little imperfect, like a child had painted them.

You glanced back at the photograph, hesitating for a moment. Not that you cared, after how he apparently knew everything about you, this still felt oddly invasive. But just for a moment, until you remembered that he’d packed up your fucking underwear — a thought that still repulsed you.

The melody that filled the air was a warped by age. But the princess still danced. A little stiff, a little slow, gears clicking over the tune. 

You knew the song, melancholic, heavy. Almost too thick for a children’s toy.

Dancing bears, painted wings, 

Things I almost remember—-

And a song someone sings,

Once upon a December.

The mudroom door opened, you instantly snapped the box shut. Carefully placing it back beside the photograph, just the way you’d found it, while a muffled “Gotta wipe your paws,” to Titan, came through the closed door to the living room. By the time he opened it, you’d long rushed back upstairs. 

family: none? had a daughter?

──────────

“Who is she?” You asked two days later, lingering after dinner. Pretending to take the living room in, since he more or less told you he expected you to snoop. You had lingered in front of the photograph, making no move to reach for the music box. Unsure how he’d react.

The sound of cutlery hitting porcelain told you that that was the right decision. 

“Sarah,” his voice sounded heavy, distant. And when you turned to look at him, his back was turned. Shoulders tense. “‘m daughter.”

You didn’t press, not until morning, when you sat across from him at the dining table again. Avocado toast with poached egg. Joel could really cook. “You have a daughter?” You asked, as casually as you managed, while watching him closely.

His fingers flexed around the fork and knife he held. Knuckles turning white. You had already learned that he took a moment before he answered, calculated in his responses and with what he revealed. But this was different.

He avoided looking at you. His jaw working like it physically pained him to reply. 

“Had.” 

Oh. “I— am sorry,” Joel looked as surprised about your words as you felt. 

He’d abducted you. Quite literally ended your life in more ways than one and you offered him compassion? 

“Thank you,” genuine, and something in your chest twisted. “Was a long time ago,” his voice carried the same heaviness it had had when you’d asked after the photograph. “In another life.”

“How did she…” you trailed off, watching the twitch in his jaw you’d grown familiar with.

“Food’s getting cold.”

It was avocado toast. Not like it was a hot dish to begin with, but you got the message and dropped the topic. For now. 

You crossed out the question mark behind the had a daughter, and wrote Sarah behind it, before opening a new page: Sarah

Collecting what little you knew, the music box, the tune, Joel’s comment about another life. 

At this rate you’d need a new notebook soon. Although knowing Joel, he had a stack ready for you. 

“Have you met her?” You asked Titan, who now shared the bed with you too. After tentatively curling up at your feet he’d eventually moved to the unoccupied side of the bed that was closest to the door. 

You didn’t mind. 

Pepper and Titan your closest companions now. And at least you could pretend that you were conspiring with them against Joel. 

Even if you were sure that at least one of them, if not both would side with him when it came down to it. 

The pup yawned, before stretching out. “Guess that’s a no,” you laughed, adjusting his collar. He hardly wore it, there was no point for it, but Joel had taken him on a walk after breakfast, only offering you a gruff, ‘Need some air,’ before heading out. 

True to his word, letting you know when he was gone longer.

And if you had to guess, Titan had marched straight up here, paws not quite dry — you had seen to that before letting him onto the bed; and collar still around his neck. 

You didn’t peg Joel for someone who forgot something like taking Titan’s collar off but, he’d seemed a little beside himself when he’d cleaned the breakfast table. Stuck in his head. You’d already added sore topic to Sarah’s page. 

Titan huffed, when you unfastened the collar, like he’d been waiting for that, while you inspected the silver tag. 

Miller. 

No number, no address, no trace of the pup’s name. Hm.

Joel Miller?

You pulled your laptop closer, the collar forgotten for the moment, while you typed Joel Miller into the search bar, full on prepared to have to narrow the search. With daughter Sarah or Texas — assuming he was from the lone star state. 

But the search results flooded with links. Newspaper headlines, more or less all similar. 

Charges dropped, no jail time after vigilantism. (…) took law into his own hands (…) doesn’t have to serve time.

You clicked the top result, an online version of the Austin American-Statesman from 2003.

A mugshot of Joel greeted you, younger, sure. A little less beard, but it was unmistakably him, same stoic expression, right beside the headline. 

Joel Miller (36), a former contractor from Arlington, Texas, was arrested last Tuesday evening in connection with the death of Sean Stevens (41). The suspected driver in fatal hit-and-run that killed Sarah Miller (12) three months ago.

According to Austin Police Department reports, Miller had repeatedly expressed frustration with the pace of the investigation in the weeks following his daughter’s death. Authorities confirmed that Stevens had not yet been formally charged at the time of the incident. 

Police responded to reports of a disturbance shortly after 11 p.m. at an abandoned service lot in the outskirts of Travis County, where Stevens was found dead at the scene from extensive blunt force trauma. 

Miller was reportedly discovered beside the body with visible injuries to his hands and clothing stained with blood. Witnesses stated that he made no attempt to flee or resist the arrest. 

Court records show charges against Miller were later dropped under undisclosed circumstances. Officials declined to comment further on the decision. 

──────────

You’d shut the laptop and scrambled off the bed fast enough to alert Titan. The pup instantly up and off the bed too. 

“It’s okay,” you tried, attempting to breathe against the nausea and panic. 

A part of you understood. The need to lash out, to do something. But the idea of him beating someone to death? Of not resisting arrest? Or attempting to flee? Waiting for police?

That imagery was terrifying. 

Another life. Twenty-three years ago. If he was capable of that then, who knew what he was capable of now. 

Murder and abduction. Murder for abduction.

A knock, followed by “Babygirl?” And for a moment you struggled to breathe. Convinced that he knew what you had found. “’s past one, ain’t ya hungry?” 

Oh, oh. You’d only missed lunch. “No— yes, sorry. I fell asleep,” you lied. “Be right down.” 

“Kay,” he called back through the door, “Imma heat it up ‘gain,”

“T—thank you,” you tried hard to keep your voice level, to hide your panic from it. 

When you finally headed downstairs, another ten minutes later after splashing water into your face and trying to calm yourself, you clutched Titan’s collar. Buying yourself another moment by disappearing into the mudroom and hanging it up on the hook between your coats. Where you’d seen it countless times. 

“Oh,” he was leaning against the counter by the stove, a bowl of leftover chili on the island for you. “Thank you for takin’ it off. Forgot ta.” You only managed to nod, a little stiff, a little mechanic, watching Joel pet Titan, absentmindedly. A large hand resting on the pup’s head. 

You really didn’t feel like eating, but you forced yourself to. A couple of spoons full. Just enough to placate him. “You alright babygirl?” Apparently not successfully so. “Look like ya saw a ghost.”

“I’m fine,” you lied through your teeth, praying that he didn’t poke. “Shouldn’t have napped.”

“Ah,” he nodded, “Woke up disoriented, eh?”

“It’s not like I know where I am,” you snapped. Snark was better than avoiding eye contact and praying that he didn’t notice how unsettled you were. 

“Touché.” 

You managed about half a bowl before you had enough, excusing yourself again to rush upstairs. As eager as you were the first night, to get away from him. The only difference? Titan was following you. 

After a long moment of contemplation, you settled down to add the newly acquired information into your notebook. 

Both, about Sarah:

age: 12

deceased, 2003, → hit and run

And Joel:

full name: ??? Joel Miller

age: ??? ~58 (36 in 2003)

former occupation: ??? (ex-military) contractor

accent: southern → Texan? from Arlington, Texas

capable of extreme violence under emotional distress → beat a man to death → outside too, killed to get you here

doesn’t fear consequences → didn’t resist arrest

terrifying

Before you can think better of it, you add:

loved daughter deeply

 And on a new page: Charges dropped? And a list of potential reasons under the headline.

political connection?

corruption?

blackmail?

organised crime?  → hitman? problem solution?  → bought fee and hired?

Whatever it was, you doubted he would answer, if you asked. 

But why hadn’t he blocked the search results? If he could block comment sections and location tracing — you even had tried over the IP Address but to no avail. They kept changing, jumping every couple seconds. Gotta make sure you leave no digital footprint. Something told you, that Joel didn’t want to leave a digital footprint either. 

He hadn’t blocked them because he wanted you to know.

──────────

You couldn’t sleep, feeling utterly exposed and as scared as you had your first night. You’d half contemplated setting up camp in the bathroom again. But ultimately decided against it. 

With Pepper on your chest and Titan curled into your side.

And the knife still on the nightstand.

You would be fine, you told yourself. Again and again. You would be fine. If he wanted you dead, of that much you were sure, you would already be dead. So you could be fine.

He hadn’t come onto you either. Giving you space. 

Six weeks in — it was almost December now, and you had no fucking clue what he wanted from you. Why he’d kept you trapped in his house. 

But you were no prisoner. No, you were here because he wanted to keep you safe.

Fucking freak. 

A hitman, wanting to play house. 

But why?

You were in the alley, behind your apartment building. To look after Pepper, like you did every evening when you came home. She’d been gone for the last few nights. 

Worry twisted your gut. 

Where was she?

A noise startled you, gravel crunching under a heavy boot.

“‘m sorry babygirl.” The world didn’t go dark, instead there were bloody knuckles, the sickening sound of fists connecting with a face. 

Yours, not yours, one meant to look like yours. 

“Babygirl,” a hand on your shoulder, “’s just a dream babygirl.” A worried face hovering over you—- 

You didn’t think when you reached out, fingers curling into a shirt, arms wrapping around you. “’s okay, I got you babygirl. ’s just a dream,” a soothing voice you barely heard over your racing heartbeat. “’s just a dream,” a large hand moving along your back. 

Joel.

“Get off of me!” you pushed at him, “Don’t fucking touch me!” You had reached for him. He let go of you in an instant and you scrambled away, to the corner farthest from him. The same one you’d stood in weeks ago. 

The knife in your hand, pointed at him. 

“Get the fuck away from me!”

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Happy Birthday Lexiiiii!! Sending lots of love your way💖

Aww thank you so so much hun😭🫶🏽🥹❤️