#sarah looks like shit in the first image i'm sorry

[darks-romantical-corner]

As I've said, I've made very small amount of Saraniel (I guess that's the ship name now?) sketches so here y'all go 💙

[mybworlds]

Chapter 3

Paring: Joel x F!Reader (NO Y/N)

Warnings: pre!outbreak and post!outbreak, AU (there will be some characters, Joel's backstory is different), no Sarah, no Ellie (maybe!), a lot of flashback (at least in the first chapters!), age gap (reader is approx. 10 yrs younger than Joel), slow burn, mutual pining, angst, SMUT, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (m and f), fingering, masturbation (m and f), language, attempted SA, trauma, death and violence.

Rating: M

Masterlist

Word count: 4.8k

Summary: You work in the Millers' company, you are their friend, you have a job you love, your coworkers esteem and love you. Your life is perfect. Suddenly, one day, you wake up in the hospital, you are alone surrounded by silence and strange noises, your door is barricaded, but what happened? And what happened to the world out there?

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Thanks @saradika for the divider and the banner.

Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner.

JANUARY 2014

When you open your eyes the sun is high in the sky, a ray of sunshine invades the bedroom making the moldy green walls a little less squalid than they seemed the night before.

You sit in the middle of the bed and scratch your head that a few hours ago Joel unblindled you, there are no noises outside or in the house. Joel told you that you need to be as quiet as possible so as not to attract any of those creatures or other people who might want your other sources of sustenance.

Has humanity really reached this point?

Your head hurts a little less than yesterday, but you still have a headache and feel a little dizzy. You grope your way to a sitting position and reach the bedroom door, opening it very slowly, careful not to make it creak just like he did the night before, and then you leave the room. You stealthily walk up to Joel, thinking you'll find him in the kitchen, but instead you find him lying on the sofa. From this position he looks even bigger, his shoulders broad, his shirt slightly open at chest height revealing his slightly tanned skin, his hair and his uneven beard are a little graying and his legs slightly dangling. You look at him, but the more you look at him the more you struggle to reconcile what you seem to remember about him, in fact you remembered him with his short beard and his dark hair, his warm and reassuring smile, his sweet brown eyes. His hands are slightly more wrinkled than the last time, his knuckles are bruised and abraded, in fact the last time you shook them they were big and warm and there was just one big obvious vein running down the middle. You walk over to him, kneeling down next to him and taking his hand, you never expected Joel to snap his eyes open and point a knife at your throat, you jerk back falling backwards onto your elbows, shaking.

“Fuck, baby!” Joel exclaims, immediately closing the switchblade, sitting up and reaching for you, helping you sit back down “Sorry, I thought... shit...” He sighs heavily. “I'm sorry,” he says, stroking your cheek. You look at him with wide eyes, you never thought you'd see this version of Joel, you struggle even more to reconcile the impeccable, sweet image you had of him.

“Forgive me,” he says again, “Come, I'll help you,” he says holding out his hands to you, you watch his large hands stretched out towards you, you then let your gaze wander over his face and his pleading eyes, “please.”

FEBRUARY 2012

It's seven in the evening when you finally turn off your computer, yawn loudly and stretch, getting up from your chair, turn off the light on your desk and start to leave your office and press the button to call the lift, after a minute the doors open and you discover that you're not the only one who stayed late, Joel is there too.

“What are you still doing here?” you ask at the same time.

You find yourself smiling as you step into the cockpit and Joel presses the button to reach the entrance, “So, what are you still doing here? I thought you and Tommy were going to the movies tonight.” Joel says, looking at you and loosening his tie.

“I wanted to finish my work so I could stay in bed for an extra half hour tomorrow.” You admit with a weak smile, “As long as the boss gives me permission.” You add, looking at him.

“I think for him, ‘s okay,” he says, smiling at you.

At that moment the elevator jolts and you lose your balance slightly, landing on him who grabs you firmly in his arms, the elevator jolts again and Joel holds you tighter, then the light in the elevator starts to flicker and finally the lift stops and the light goes off, an emergency light comes on and the bell starts ringing.

“Joel? And now?” you ask him, looking up at him, while he looks down at you, while slowly caressing your back from above your jacket. You are so close, his cologne scent invades your nostrils, you inhale it deeply, you like it so much, close your eyes, resting your head in the crook of his neck covered by the collar of his shirt.

You're just friends, you're just friends, just friends, just friends, you tell yourself.

The shivers that spread down your spine to the nape of your neck are almost uncontrollable, but you try to repress them and deny them so as not to destroy your relationship with Joel, he is sweet and understanding only because he is your friend, friend nothing more.

“Are you scared?” he asks you almost in a whisper, you shake your head, breathing deeply and keeping your eyes closed “You'll see that in half an hour at most we'll be out.” he adds continuing his slow caress along your back.

“I'm not scared, I'm with you. I'm safe.” You say, relaxing more and more against him.

“You're with me, as long as you're with me you'll always be safe.” He replies, kissing your forehead.

You smile, “Why were you still in the office?”

You feel Joel leaning against the wall of the cockpit while still holding you close to him, “I had to sign a series of documents to get the construction of other structures started,” you shiver and hug him a little tighter “you cold?” he asks you.

“Yes, a little.” You answer, he loosens his grip, takes off his jacket and places it on your shoulders, tightening the edges so as to completely envelop you in the jacket that smells of him, you melt in this warm gesture.

“Better?” You nod with a small smile, a smile he returns with a kiss on your forehead.

“Why are you so nice to me?” you ask, looking up at him again.

“‘cause I care ‘bout you,” he replies, caressing your cheek with the knuckles of his hand, “because I respect you a lot,” he adds, looking you intensely in the eyes, you nod “when we get out of here, d' you want to come to dinner with me?” You hesitate for a moment as Jane's words ring in your head. “Please.”

JANUARY 2014

You grab Joel's hands and stand back up, "You okay?" he asks.

You nod, keeping your gaze down.

"I'm sorry, really. It's just that I'm always on the alert, I heard someone and... I snapped," he justifies himself.

"I understand, don't worry. Um... what's the plan now?" you ask, changing the subject.

He doesn't insist, “Leave Seattle, the plan is to avoid the university areas under FEDRA control and go through as many underpasses as possible, maybe by this evening we'll be able to get out.” he replies “Um... this is your backpack, can you carry it?” you nod “When you’re ready, we can go,” he adds.

You’d like to take a shower, you would like to stay there another day, but you understand from the man's nervousness that it is not possible. You just go to the bathroom for a moment, look at your reflection in the mirror for a moment longer, and then you go back there. You put on your backpack too and then Joel opens the door. The man looks carefully from one end of the corridor to the other and, once he is sure that you are alone, he signals you to follow him, your footsteps echo in the empty corridor. You try not to look too much from one end of the corridor to the other, but it's impossible, you're afraid that there's another one of those monsters ready to chase you, you are afraid that someone might hurt you. You notice that several doors have been broken down, who knows how much looting there has been!

You go down the stairs and reach the door of the building, Joel opens it with equal caution and with the switchblade ready to strike anyone who appears in front of you, if the apartment seemed ugly and squalid to you, seeing Seattle in a state of total abandonment and chaos makes you even more uneasy, the cars are piled up on street corners, some are overturned on their sides, others are now old burnt sheets of metal, the leaves of the trees are piled up on them and along the streets, some plants have taken over completely invading the sidewalks and the walls of some buildings, the buildings are crumbling, some even seem unsafe, your stomach tightens when you see your city like this, you who have always loved it... Joel tugs at the hem of your coat and silently waves you on, you follow him, there is an eerie silence, no birds, no sign of civilization or other creatures, images are all holed up and the survivors of the doomsday maybe they're all on college campuses like Joel said.

You pass several terraced houses, they all seem to have been abandoned, on some of the doors X's are drawn and on the walls there are strange phrases written like look for the light, maybe it's some religious sect or some ambiguous motto, you have no idea; after a while you and Joel stop in front of an underpass, Joel looks at you and you nod as if to reassure him that you're okay and that he doesn't have to worry about you, your head is spinning, but you don't want him to see you weak or force him to stop, it wouldn't be fair. You enter an underpass, Joel turns on the torch ahead of you, it is a very long underpass, you cannot see the exit. You swallow, Joel notices your hesitation “Are you okay?” he asks in a whisper, you nod, shrugging, it's pretty cold down there.

You are very close to Joel and you keep looking at him as if you are looking for some form of security regarding what you are doing and if the direction you are going is right, he realizes that you are watching him and smiles at you, it's a fleeting smile, a smile so different from the many you seem to remember him giving you in the past.

In the dead silence, a sudden dull sound like footsteps echoes in the near darkness and before you or Joel can do or say anything, four men, their faces covered as best they could except for their eyes, stand before you, one pointing a pistol and the other a rifle at you, you immediately raise your hands in surrender, Joel instead looks at them “Who are you?” he barks.

“We ask, you answer,” says one of the four.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” asks a second man.

“We just want to get to the other side,” Joel replies in an annoyed tone of voice.

“Why isn't your friend talking? Was she bitten?” asks a third man pointing his gun at you making you hold your breath and making Joel half sprint towards you “Whoa, whoa, whoa” he says “you don't need to do this, she's just really tired,”

The third man doesn't stop looking at you and you find yourself staring with wide eyes first at the man and then at Joel who doesn't stop telling the man to stay calm and that there is no reason to point a gun at you. Your breath is almost missing from the tension you're feeling, inhaling and exhaling is becoming more and more complicated. “Joel,” you call him in a short voice, “Joel,” the man catches you in midair, preventing you from hitting your head again.

“Why the fuck is she doing that?” the third man asks again. “What's wrong with her?”

“She just came out of a coma, asshole.” You hear Joel annoyed, his voice muffled in your ears. You open and close your eyes repeatedly, unable to focus your attention on anything other than their excited voices.

“Calm down, Justin!” the first one warns him.

“Calm down, this one isn't talking, she's fainting, what if she was bitten and is about to turn in one of those monsters?”

“They don't turn like that!” Joel and the fourth man shout together.

You feel Joel holding you close to his chest, he caresses your cheek calling your name softly, “you're still afraid of closed places, aren't ya?” he asks you, but you don't answer, he knows, “Calm down, breathe deeply, I'm with you, I won't leave you, I'm here, sst” he adds placing a kiss on your forehead, “She's sick, she just came out of the coma!” Joel exclaims again, addressing those men.

“Okay, take her this way,” you hear the first voice addressing Joel, he lifts you into his arms and carries you to an unknown place, your eyes are still closed and the only thing you hear are all their footsteps echoing in that narrow place and Joel's heart beating fast “She'll be fine here, put her here,” you hear him add again, “If you want you can stay with her, where were you headed?”

“Outside Seattle, we were going to his parents,” Joel replies.

“Where?” he insists.

“Boston.” he answers.

“It's far away.”

“Can you leave us alone?” Joel asks again.

There is no answer, you just hear a creaking door and then silence again, “Baby? Hey? Can you hear me?” you groan turning your head towards him and opening your eyes “Why didn't you tell me you still weren't feeling well?” he asks you again. “We should have waited a little longer,” he whispers.

“Joel,” you say looking at his tired and worried face, “I don't want to be a burden,” you confess to him with fearful eyes.

“What are you talking about? You're not at all and if we had to wait a month it wouldn't have been a problem,” he continues, gently stroking your jaw.

“Why are you so nice to me?” you ask him.

“‘cause I care ‘bout ya." he replies, looking you in the eye with sad eyes. "Do you want me to tell you something that happened almost two years ago?" You nod.

FEBRUARY 2012

Once you get out of the elevator, you invite Joel to dinner at your place. It's the first time you've had him go up there, usually both you and he have never met there, until that moment you had never crossed that line. Very shyly, Joel follows you into your house, looking around. You smile at each other awkwardly, then you invite him to make himself comfortable, while you take off your jacket and invite him to follow you into the kitchen. He offers to help you cook, but you refuse as he is a guest that day. Instead, you invite him to get a bottle of red wine and open it, point out where the corkscrew and glass are, and he can devote himself to that. You like to see him in your kitchen, you like to see him smile at you and offer you the glass of wine and toast with him, it's all so sweet and familiar, you both take a sip, “It’s a great red wine!” comments Joel.

“You and Tommy...?” he asks, looking you in the eye, while sipping some more wine.

“What?” you ask, turning to stir the pasta.

“Are you… friends or… is there something else?”

You frown at him, “We're just friends, there's nothing, but there never was anything. You know, when you feel a deep affection for a person, but you know that's just it? This is between me and Tommy, and he has never gone beyond that, nor have I allowed him.” You clarify.

“So I shouldn't blame him for ruining the friendship between the three of us, I was afraid he had... done something that could ruin everything,” Joel murmurs, still sipping his wine.

“Why this sudden fear? Is the wine already having an effect?” you tease him as you drain the pasta.

“No, it's just... It's something I wanted to ask you for a while now, but then... it never seemed like the right time.” You nod.

“And you're satisfying my curiosity?” he nods “Is there something between you and Charlotte?” you ask him looking him in the eyes, you see him put the glass on the table and run his index finger along the rim with an absent air.

“If you mean a relationship, no. But if you mean just sex, with no emotional entanglements, then yes.” you look down and turn your back on him, portioning the food onto the two plates, you turn around, offering him the plate and the other plate for yourself.

You eat in silence, neither of you adding anything beyond what Joel said. He seeks your gaze on more than one occasion, he would like to ask you what you think, he would even like to ask you if it bothers you, but he notices how you are staring at your plate, notices your silence. Maybe he shouldn't have been so direct.

JANUARY 2014

As you listen to his words, it almost seems like you can see those moments pass before you again, as if you had dreamed them, but you remember something that he didn't say, as if he hadn't told you everything, you zigzag your gaze from one corner to another of that damp and squalid place “There's something I don't understand,” you say, frowning and looking at the man sitting next to you “were we good friends or was there... um... something between us? Something I don't remember?” you ask him, uncertain about the few fragmented memories that are slowly coming back to you. You trust Joel, even though you don't clearly remember him, you instinctively trusted him and what he told you, but the moment he told you about seems incomplete... or maybe you're just confusing things entirely.

He looks up and down several times. “We were very close, yes. But if you're asking me if there was something between us... no.” But the way he caressed you, immediately establishing physical contact with you, the way he immediately smiled at you, reassuring you, are leading you to think that perhaps it is not like that.

FEBRUARY 2012

You're on the couch, you've just finished dinner, you're both tipsy and you're laughing at each other's sentences, even seemingly stupid phrases or ones that, in other circumstances, wouldn't have made you laugh at all. You keep refilling your glasses with more wine, “I didn't think it was possible to have this much fun with you.” he says sipping his wine and placing it on the table and looking at your face.

Your eyes sting and your lips keep curling up. “I didn’t think I’d have this big crush on you!” you exclaim, giggling before covering your mouth with a hand.

“Did you say you have a crush on me?” he asks.

“Drunk, I said drunk.” you reply looking at him.

“No, I heard crush on you,” he replies.

You smile. “Does being drunk make you deaf, Miller?” you ask, taking another sip and putting your glass down as well.

“I can hear perfectly well, I'm not drunk, at most a little...” he says, leaning his head back against the sofa cushion.

“Tipsy?” you finish by snuggling up to him, resting your head in the crook of his neck. “Miller?”

“Mh?” he says placing a hand on your back, pulling you a little closer to him.

“I like the way you smell.” You say, nuzzling his neck with your eyes closed. “I've always liked you, I've always liked the way you smell.” You correct yourself in time, smiling.

“Did I hear it wrong again?” he asks, turning his head towards you.

“Yes.” You reply raising your head towards him, your eyes lock, neither you nor he can look down, in other circumstances perhaps you would have already separated or Tommy would have intervened and interrupted everything.

“What are you thinkin'?” he asks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“About you.” You reply in a breath, his warm breath gently caressing your face and you close your eyes for a moment.

“And what do you think ‘bout me?” he asks you, caressing your cheek tenderly.

“Did I hear it wrong again?” he asks with a crooked smile.

“How beautiful you are.” You reply immediately “How beautiful you are when you wear that blue suit.” You add “And how I wish you‘d kiss me, I wish you had already done it.” You reply, feeling your eyes heavy.

“No.” you reply, bringing your face closer to his. “Miller?”

“Mh?” he hums, rubbing his nose against yours with his eyes closed.

"And d’ you like me? Even just a little?" you ask him.

He opens his eyes, "I don't think ‘bout anyone but you." He replies, closing the distance between your mouths and kissing you, you find yourself smiling into that kiss because, even though you're tipsy, you think it's you he wants, you.

You step away for just a moment, “What about Charlotte then?” you ask him.

“It's horrible to say, but I don't care about her, I only want you” he replies, taking you by the chin and kissing you again, this time more decisively, more passionately.

JANUARY 2014

“Lemme see.” You say, looking into his eyes.

You fell asleep shortly after eating a protein bar. Joel remained on guard, it's true that those guys made you stay to rest, but he doesn't trust, he can't let his guard down especially if you're still so weak, he has to be strong for two.

The guy who made you stay calls Joel a few minutes later who walks away from you just a few steps to talk to him, “Friend, I would let you stay, but these days it's better not to trust anyone and my friends don't like you. So, as soon as your friend wakes up, take your stuff and go away.” Joel finds himself nodding “If you're trying to get out of Seattle, continue through the tunnel, after about six miles, you'll find a gap on your right, you'll exit into the middle of Interstate 5, walk underneath without ever walking on, the FEDRA people do nothing but patrol those streets, if they find you, they will catch you and take you to one of their lairs. Follow the Interstate then cut through the woods and from there, I can only wish you good luck.”

“Thanks,” Joel says with a nod.

You are awakened by gunshots and then a door opening and closing abruptly. You open your eyes confused and the first person you see is Joel, he has what looks like a rifle in his hands, you step back slightly when you see him with a weapon in his hands “What the...?” you start to say, but he places his big hand on your mouth and signals you to stay silent, you nod not understanding what's happening, there's just a great silence outside, or at least that's how it seems to you.

He signals you to get up and go away, you take your backpack and put it on your shoulder, while Joel slowly opens the door and checks something outside left and right, you look at him confused, you would like to ask him what's happening, but you can't, he forced you to remain silent and so you do. Joel then waves his hand to you to move and you do, he opens the door all the way and then you walk down the dark corridor, Joel takes you by the arm and turns on the flashlight, his pace is definitely quicker than when you entered, the man looks back continuously, while you would like to ask him what happened to those four men who appeared before you.

You are careful not to slip and keep up, while Joel keeps looking back and then looking for something towards your right side, you would like to understand what to look for, but Joel does not speak to you, your footsteps echo in that underpass that seems to never end, you are about to ask him after what seems like hours what happened, but the roar of an engine echoes within those walls producing a terrible din, “Here it is!” Joel shouts, taking advantage of the roar of that engine to finally be able to talk to you, he points to a tunnel on your right that is slightly inclined upwards, which he lets you enter first then he follows you.

You slide to get in, you grab onto an iron pipe first and then you dig your hands into the ground using your arms to keep from slipping, once inside you put your hands on the ground and turn towards Joel who, with your help and holding on to another pipe, manages to get in, then he makes you turn sharply towards the other side and continue crouching with your hands and feet on the ground. Those noises are getting closer and closer, you try to turn towards Joel several times, but he always pushes you to look forward and continue. This version of Joel is so different from the one from a few hours ago or the one you think you remember, as you sneak out – or at least you hope you're heading there – you can't help but wonder if what you think you remember is real or if you're just creating a terrible confusion that probably it won't help you remember at all, it will just make your memory worse.

You are outside, the sun is blinding, you feel a shiver of pleasure in feeling the heat of the sun, you stand up followed by Joel who puts his hands on his hips and looks around as if he was searching something “Tell me what…” you start to say, but he cuts you off with a “This isn’t the time.” before walking past you. You sigh loudly, but follow him. You drive down the small hill, paying attention to any potholes or loose terrain, and shortly after you will notice a dense network of roads that you will easily recognize as Interstate 5, you remember the many times you went down that road with your parents when you were a little girl to visit your grandparents in the city of Kent, in the State of Washington, who knows if their house is still there, who knows maybe you could suggest Joel a little detour, you think for a moment, but then you remember the world you live in now, there is no time and what you have you have to make the most of it.

You and Joel carefully avoid walking on the Interstate because, according to Joel, the guy at the underpass advised him against going on it because of FEDRA, “Can we talk now?" you ask him, he looks at you for a moment, then looks around and then again he watches you nodding “What were those shots? Why do you have a rifle? What did we run from? How do you know this is the right path?”

“That guy told me, and he told me to be careful with the FEDRA soldiers, they are dangerous and I'm telling you this based on my own personal experience.” you look at him questioningly “Let's just say they took advantage of their position to subjugate the many poor people they had crowded into college campuses, They turned ‘em into makeshift reception centers, they took possession of a lot of supplies, they did all sorts of things, believe me. They killed, raped, stole, did awful things. They lured so many poor people with the promise of shelter, hot meals and medical care,” you swallow “Better not to deal with ‘em. Trust me.”

“Why do you always say that word? Trust me. Does it have a special meaning for you and me? Or for one of us?” you ask him, narrowing your eyes slightly.

He looks at you, he's about to say something but then he reconsiders and continues on his way, “This isn't the time for that... I'd like to get to the car storage center before the evening, from there we could enter the woods and hopefully avoid human contact as much as possible.” so you start walking under the endless Interstate roads, you take deep breaths through your nose, you don't comment on his words. You walk half a step away from him studying the mystery contained in this man and you can't help but think that there are pieces of your past that he is jealously guarding, you don't have time to ask yourself what it could be because Joel pulls you by the hem of your jacket making you end up against him, while he leans against a pillar and looks up. You don't know what he saw or heard specifically, but you trust him, you have to, you can't help but look at his profile and feel a strange kind of attraction towards him, his plushy lips, his dark eyes now worried fixed upwards, his hands planted on your back to hold you close to him make you feel good and protected. A strange warmth spreads in your chest and instinctively you also hug him, resting your head in the crook of his neck, have you ever been in this position with him? Have you ever felt pleasure in hugging him and being hugged by him?

FEBRUARY 2012

You're sitting on his lap, you're holding the edges of his shirt collar in your hands to keep him close to you, you're kissing each other more and more intensely.

You breathe in his scent again deeply, you want this scent so close to you to remain imprinted in your memory, you nuzzle your nose against his neck, while he slips his hands into your hair.

You gently place a kiss on his neck, feeling the light fuzz of his beard against your lips.

“We shouldn't...” he starts to say.

“I know,” you sigh sadly, “But I want to take advantage of this state of mine to be able to be this close to you, I would never have done it normally,” He gently massages your scalp, causing shivers of pleasure that make you snuggle even closer to him, he kisses your forehead and you let yourself be pampered by his caress and his strong perfume.

“I know,” he repeats in your ear, “But I want you to know that even if we're not completely ourselves, what we feel doesn't change, okay? Maybe tomorrow we will deny this moment, maybe not, maybe we will remember it confused, but I want you to know that I love you, I have loved you since the first day we rescued you and trust me this will never change.” he tells you taking your face in his hands so that your faces are at the same height and he can look you in the eye.

“I trust you. I will always trust you. No matter what.”

[buckyseddie]

made for each other

pairings — jj maybank x fem!kook!reader, featuring bff!kiara carrera x bff!fem!kook!reader and bff!sarah cameron x bff!fem!kook!reader

summary — in which, they don't like each other until they learn about each other's trauma and they become something else entirely.

word count — 3.9k words.

warnings — enemies to friends to lovers trope, kie and sarah are her best friends, use of pet-names [sweetheart, baby], bickering, angst, fluff, reader is a kook but she lives at kie's house with her, reader isn't in her parents life but jj doesn't know this, reader is really nice and genuine, jj's really mean in this sorry, abusive parents, jj calls reader a bitch, love confession from jj, both of them being in denial of their feelings, john b is the leader of their relationship, reader has self-image and self-confidence issues, reader calls jj by his last name a few times, cuddles, forehead kisses, the reader kisses jj but it's like a peck, everyone's super supportive, small mentions of mental health.

notes — hey guys!! i'm rewatching obx, so i decided to write out one of the jj requests i got, so here it is. quick thing, i know it was requested that the reader is a pogue, but i changed her to be a kook so that it works with the storyline i'm writing for this fic! also, i know it was requested that none of the pogues like the reader, but i changed that a little. i hope this is okay because i felt that it would make more sense. i hope you enjoy it and sorry about the minor changes! gif and divider creds to owner!

p.s., feedback is very much encouraged and appreciated <3.

main masterlist

SOMETIMES, SHE REALLY HATED HIM.

like right now.

she didn't know what she did to make him hate her so much.

[y/n] is probably one of the sweetest people anyone could ever meet — despite everything she's been through.

and [y/n] has done nothing to him — she's been so genuinely sweet to him the entire time, ever since they met.

but, since they've met, jj has only been cruel to her.

she'd been hanging out with the pogues, like she always has.

although, today was the first time that jj was around — anytime she was around, jj would make up an excuse to not hang out with his friends.

but, this time, john b was forcing him to hang out with her around.

john b didn't say a word about having to be nice, though.

and the second [y/n] said something that he could make a comment about, he did.

and boy, did it do more than hurt her feelings.

he made some messed up comment about her using kiara, for staying at her house.

[y/n] scoffs with tears in her eyes, before she stands up to walk away.

"wait, [y/n]!" kiara calls before she can leave.

she shakes her head. "no, i'm not fucking taking this shit anymore. i've tried to be nice, even though he's an ass every damn time," she says angrily, motioning to jj, who's shrugging and smirking. "i'm done trying to prove myself to him."

and with that, she walks off.

she refuses to let him see her reaction to his comment, so she hurries to grab her stuff from the house, before she gets into her car and starts it and gets the hell out of there.

once she's gone, everyone turns to jj.

"what?" jj asks in defense, rolling his eyes at the frustrated look in kiara's eyes.

"why in the hell did you do that?!" she exclaims, walking over to him and smacking him on the head.

jj doesn't say anything, he just shrugs.

sarah scoffs. "you know, if you really knew her and what she's been through, you wouldn't hate her so much."

"so? she's a kook!" jj yells, raising his hands up in the air.

john b rolls his eyes. "yeah, and so is kie and sarah! but, they're nothing like those other asshole supremacists."

jj just shakes his head, refusing to accept that she's different, or to feel bad for being such a jerk.

—————

IT'S BEEN A FEW WEEKS, since the situation with jj.

and [y/n] hasn't spoken to anyone since.

although, one part of the reason why she wasn't hanging out with anyone wasn't just because of the fact that she was angry at jj — it was also because of her parents.

[y/n] was running low on a lot of things she needed.

and she already felt bad enough as it is, for borrowing some of kiara's things — she offered anything she needed without any hesitation.

so, she really had no choice.

it would be easy — kiara's parents were out and kiara herself was out with the pogues, and she'd only be there for a few minutes.

and of course she wasn't going to walk through the front door — that'd be stupid.

there's a built in ladder on the side of the house near her window.

so, when she got there — she walked, to not bring attention to herself — she sneaked over to said-ladder and quietly climbed up the ladder.

when she was near her window, she leaned against the ladder and tried with all of her might to quietly open her window.

when she did, she clumsily climbed inside, accidentally falling loudly onto the floor.

there wasn't enough time to gather her stuff and get out of there before her parents could find her.

panic filled her when her door creaked open and in walked in her father.

needless to say, things got really bad after that.

when she got back to the carrera's house, she locked herself inside the guest room — where she's been sleeping in.

she's currently leaning her back against the room's door, panicking with her hands shaking, while she tries to figure out how she's going to hide this.

the worst part is that she couldn't even get more stuff — she had to get out of there before anything else happened.

but, a loud knock and some yells at the front door shakes her out of her scared and stressed daze.

after realizing that no one else is home to answer, [y/n] shakily rushes over to the door, anxiety filling her.

"come on! open up!"

that voice makes her even more anxious — it's jj.

after [y/n] started ignoring everyone, kiara lectured him and told him that he needed to go apologize to her — he didn't dare say no because there's nothing more scary than the carrera girl when she's angry.

knowing that he's not going to stop until she listens, she takes in a deep breath, before she opens the door.

jj is shocked, to say the least, when he sees her face filled with bruises.

"what the fuck? where did you get those?"

[y/n] scoffs. "why? don't tell me you care." she sneers, crossing her arms over her chest.

"i may not like you, but that doesn't mean i'm heartless."

[y/n] ignores his words, leaning against the doorway. "why are you even here, jj? did you come back for a fight?" she questions angrily.

"no. kie wanted me to apologize." his voice is small and his eyes are cast to the ground.

"okay?" she says, laughing in frustration. "just tell her you did it and go."

he scoffs, shaking his head and looking away. "why are you being such a bitch?"

she snorts in disbelief. "why am i being one? seriously, jj?"

[y/n] scoffs when he shakes his head in clear confusion. "i've been nice, jj!" she exclaims, shaking her head at him with tears filling her eyes.

she clears her throat and shakes her head, tilting her head back and shutting her eyes to rid them of the tears.

then, she opens her eyes again and takes a deep breath.

"jj... " she trails off, gulping. "i have tried to be nice, okay? i have been nothing but nice. and you've just been cruel to me from the moment we met — every single chance you got."

guilt fills jj — he never really thought about the consequences of his actions.

in the past, jj never cared about the kooks. and he had no problem voicing that. especially spoiled and snotty ones.

but, now? well, it's been extremely hard, trying to tell the difference between the kooks that are just trying to live and can't help who they are and the ones that see themselves as more superior than anyone else.

a shaky sigh leaves his lips. "i'm sorry, okay? i... shouldn't have said those things to you. and especially what i said about you using kie — that was wrong."

"whatever, jj." she mumbles, not looking at him.

she backs away, moving to shut the door in his face. "just go, jj."

"wait!" he calls, stepping forward.

"no, jj. just... tell kie that you apologized and we can lie our asses off, saying that we're good, okay?" she mutters and backs further into the room, before shutting the door.

jj stands on the porch for a straight ten minutes, speechless and trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

—————

SHE SPENT DAYS LOCKED INSIDE the guest room.

but eventually, things got too complicated.

despite the fact that jj spends most of his time at the chateau, [y/n] moves out of the carrera's house and to john b's place.

jj was sleeping in the chateau, while [y/n] had just been sleeping on the hammock, outside.

and boy, were things tense and awkward between them.

[y/n] was doing everything she could to avoid jj, and jj was filled with guilt and trying to figure out what to do to fix things.

because despite how much he acted like he hates her, it was a lie.

maybe in the past, he could've lied and said that it was because of her being a kook.

but, that's not true — not anymore.

now, it's clear as day that he hated her because of how he feels about her.

"dude, are you going to talk to her?" john b asks, lightly tapping his leg in order to try to get his attention.

jj and john b had been sitting outside, quietly talking, but jj had been watching the quiet kook the entire time.

john b shakes his shoulder.

"huh? what?" jj asks confusedly, turning to face his best friend.

john b chuckles, rolling his eyes at him. "dude. you can't lie any longer — not to us and not to yourself."

"what are you talking about?" jj knits his eyebrows together in confusion.

"look, the only reason we let this fighting between the two of you go on for as long as it did is because everyone can see it." john b says, shrugging his shoulder.

"what the hell are you even talking about, bro?" jj questions, shoving him.

"the connection, jj! no matter how much you wanna deny it, there's something going on between you two."

"excuse me?" he asks, beginning to stand up.

john b stands up with him and grabs his shoulder.

"look, i'm not trying to, like, gang up on you or anything," he says, before nodding over to [y/n], who's staring numbly at the sun and nature. "but, you gotta be honest with yourself — and with her."

jj follows his nod, noticing the lonely girl sitting on the hammock.

"you've hurt her enough. be better — for her. if you don't want to admit your feelings, that's fine. but, she deserves a genuine apology from you and not that bullshit one you pulled at kie's last week."

jj sighs quietly, but nods.

john b claps him on the shoulder, before backing up towards the door. "just do right by her, alright, buddy?"

[y/n] quickly notices how quiet it is now — she could tell before that the boys were outside from the quiet talking coming from them.

she looks up and notices jj walking over to her.

her eyes widen and her mouth falls open in surprise and anxiety as she quickly turns away, mentally freaking out.

what did he want now? hasn't he done enough?

"hey." he says, sitting down on the opposite side of her on the hammock.

rolling her eyes, she looks up at him and asks, "what do you want, jj?"

a dumbfounded look forms on his face. "w—what do you mean? i don't want anything," he stutters as he awkwardly pats the part of the hammock that's under his hand. "i just wanna lie down on this cool-ass hammock with you."

she scoffs.

"cut the bullshit, jj." she says tightly, her stare going so straight through him from her trying to figure out what he wants.

they share a moment of tense eye contact, until jj finally breaks first.

he sighs, and glances down at his now fidgeting hands. "i... just want to fix all of this tension between us."

jj's gaze stays on his hands, while [y/n] sits and watches him for a straight minute.

"i don't believe you." she says, not daring to look away as he looks back up at her.

something in his eyes startles her — she can't quite place her finger on what it is, but it feels like it could bring her entire world crumbling down.

"it's the truth! i swear." he says in response, his voice almost defensive.

she ignores the pleading tone of his voice and bites her bottom lip, not quite sure to believe him.

"seriously, jj. i... " she trails off, ignoring the tears and trying to push down anything that could expose her real feelings. "i'm sick of this, okay?"

regret fills jj's eyes as he quietly listens, hands still shaking.

"this drama between us? all because of my kook status? i can't deal with it — i refuse to."

she takes a deep breath. "so, let's just call this good. we're good and you don't have to feel bad for me anymore — you can tell the rest of the group that you did what they asked."

something about her words bothers jj.

i mean, sure he's been cruel to her.

but, more than anything, it was to hide and ignore the hidden feelings that were growing and eating away at him.

"no." he says sharply.

[y/n]'s eyebrows knit together in confusion and surprise. "no?"

"no," he confirms and moves to stand up, leaving her by herself on the hammock. "we're not doing this."

she scoffs, moving to stand up too. "what do you mean no? doing what?"

he motions between the both of them. "this. this fucking back and forth of acting like there's nothing wrong."

she rolls her eyes. "jj, seriously—"

he holds up his hand again, and this time, she listens.

with that, she crosses her arms over her chest and waits for him to continue.

jj scoffs. "and it turns out, john b was right."

"what? right about what?" she asks in confusion as she watches him pace.

"jj, seriously," she calls out to him and steps forward, touching one of his shoulders with one of her hands. "what is this about?"

he stops and turns to her and takes a deep breath.

"it's about the fact that you think that i hate you."

she furrows her eyebrows together and drops her hand from his shoulder.

jj takes notice of the removed feeling of her hand on his shoulder.

"but, you do hate me." she states, as if it's the obvious, matter-of-fact answer.

he scoffs, running his hands through his hair roughly. "no, i don't."

"what?" she scoffs, shaking her head at him.

"i don't know what you're trying to say, or what fucked up game you're trying to play right now, but i'm not interested in being a part of it anymore." she mumbles, starting to walk past him.

but, just before she can, he turns and gently grabs her arm and stops her from walking any further away.

"don't go, yet, alright?" he says quietly, waiting for her to turn around.

she holds her breath, staring ahead, but frozen in her place.

"just... let me talk and say this, okay?" he asks, holding his breath in stress.

sighing in defeat, she turns around and stares at him pointedly.

"okay," she says, raising her hands up when he lets go of her arm. "talk then, maybank."

he nods quietly, for a moment, before he decidedly leads her over to the deck.

when they're sat down and he's been silent for too long, she rolls her eyes and says, "you wanna tell me what this is about now?"

"right!" he says in realization as he turns to face her.

"i don't hate you, okay?" he says seriously, causing her to open her mouth to argue.

he holds a hand up. "let me explain first."

with another defeated sigh, [y/n] nods and motions for him to continue.

"john b just helped me realize this, but i... never hated you — i don't think i ever could."

his words shock her, causing her to look up at him with tears in her eyes.

"so... you made me think that you hated me?" she asks in defense, scoffing.

he opens his mouth to explain, but she cuts him off and stands up, "do you have any idea what you've put me through?" she exclaims, laughing in disbelief when he stands up to stop her from continuing.

"i thought that i did something wrong to make you hate me! do you even know how many sleepless and restless nights i stayed up with sarah and kie? how many nights i cried and cried because i didn't know what i did that was so wrong that i deserved how you treated me?!"

jj sighs in defeat, deflating a little bit.

"so? why did you treat me like that?" she questions, too calm, even with the anger she was just displaying — a clear, tell-tale sign that she must be really mad.

jj's breathless. "i didn't realize it until now," he starts, keeping his eyes downcast.

"but... " he looks up at her this time and slowly and cautiously walks over to her.

slowly, he lifts his shaking hands up to her hands and holds them.

[y/n] slowly drags her eyes down to their connected hands.

"jj... " she gulps, before her eyes look back up at his nervous ones.

"i never hated you, [y/n]. it was the opposite."

she takes a deep breath. "you... you can't be possibly saying what i think you are."

he nods quietly.

"i am," he confirms, walking even closer to her, until there's not that much space between them anymore. "i tried to bury my feelings — i wanted to convince everyone and myself that what i felt for you was just blind hatred."

"but, that's not true."

tears fill her eyes and she shakes her head, not wanting to believe it for even a second.

"no," she shakes her head even more. "no, no, no." she mutters, backing away and pulling her hands out of and away from his.

the tears fall to her cheeks. "no, jj. this... " she points between them. "this is cruel — this is a whole other level of cruel that i didn't think that you'd do to me."

she shakes her head again as jj steps forward.

"sweetheart, i swear this isn't a game. it's nothing like that." he says, stepping forward as she tries to ignore the butterflies in her stomach after hearing that pet-name he just used to address her.

"then, what is it? because i know there's no way someone good like you could ever love or like someone like me!" she exclaims, the tears blinding her vision.

jj stops short, his heart stopping for a brief moment from the second he heard those words come out of her mouth.

"what?" he asks in shock, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

she scoffs again. "you heard me correctly, maybank." she says tightly, frowning as she looks down and away from him.

"do you have any idea what you mean to me, [y/n]?" he asks softly as he walks over to her and lifts her chin up with his fingers.

her mouth falls open as she looks at him. "what are you talking about, jj? what do i mean to you? who am i to you?" she asks in a murmur, but he hears her clearly.

he speaks with no hesitation, even if it sounds cheesy and corny and he'd never say it to anyone else, "you're the girl i love."

a quiet gasp sounds from her lips, causing him to chuckle softly.

"you can't really mean that." she says tightly, still in shock.

"i do. i swear i'm not lying — this isn't a game to me." he says seriously, moving his hands to hold her face in his hands.

a shaky breath leaves her lips, before she finds the courage to speak, "jj, if you really mean that — and i mean, really mean it — there's no going back, if we go through with any of this."

he nods. "i know."

"and... " she trails off, preparing for what she's about to say next. "and you really mean all of this?"

he nods again.

another shaky breath leaves her lips and the tears spill as she nods herself.

"okay."

"okay?" he asks, confused and fully expecting her to reject him.

she nods in acknowledgement. "i can't promise that things will be easy with me. i have issues, just like you, and i won't change myself for anyone."

he chuckles. "i'm not going to ask you to do that."

"okay." she nods, moving one of her hands up to one of his and anxiously intertwines them together.

"let's do this then, yeah?" he asks breathlessly and pulls her towards him gently, leading her to walk away from the chateau and to god knows where.

—————

JJ CHUCKLES IN AMUSEMENT AS he notices the girl's obvious, anxious nerves.

"you're going to be fine." he says, soothing her by rubbing her arms gently.

[y/n] groans, clenching her eyes shut in further stress.

"i just don't think they're going to react well to this news, jj!" she whines, turning to face him and letting her head fall into his chest as her groans of distress quickly become muffled.

he laughs and gently lifts her head up and cups her cheeks, a soft glint in his eyes. "it's going to be fine, baby, okay?"

she sighs, pouting for a straight minute as he smiles down at her.

"if they make any comments, i'll make them regret it." he says seriously, causing her to raise her eyebrows at him.

"they're our friends. i kind of find that hard to believe." she says seriously, laughing at his reaction.

he rolls his eyes and kisses her forehead.

"just trust me, alright?" he murmurs when he pulls away from her.

she sighs in defeat. "fine."

she frowns as he leads her inside the chateau.

he leads her into the living room, where everyone else is hanging out in.

the conversation stops immediately as they stop in the room, all of their eyes immediately landing on their joined hands.

john b doesn't look shocked at all as he smirks in approval.

"so, you finally did it, huh?" he asks, getting up and clapping his best friend on the shoulder.

jj laughs as [y/n] turns to face him with a shocked look on her face.

"what does that mean?" she asks with suspicion clear in her voice.

john b chuckles. "last week, before jj came over to talk to you, i finally got jj realize how he really feels about you."

her face fills with realization as she nods, but doesn't say anything.

she turns back around to look at everyone else.

cleo and pope look at her with a look of nonchalance, almost as if they expected this to happen, sooner or later.

sarah and kiara share a look, both smirking at each other.

then, they both get up and run over to their friend, throwing their arms over her body and jumping and giggling in excitement.

"i knew it!" kiara exclaims excitedly, with a big smile.

sarah laughs and agrees.

[y/n] rolls her eyes.

"so, you guys really don't care?" she asks, glancing at all of them.

pope snorts. "why would we? we've been waiting for this moment for too long."

cleo nods, gently poking pope. "it's about time y'all got together."

jj simply laughs, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her to one of the empty couches to cuddle on.

"see? you had no reason to be nervous." he murmurs into her ear, kissing her cheek as she makes herself comfortable in his embrace.

she rolls her eyes at him and turns to kiss him lightly, before pulling away and lying her head on his chest. "fine. you were right."

his chest rumbles with prideful laughs, but before he can say anything, she interrupts him, "don't even say it. you're lucky i like you."

he laughs again. "well, you're lucky that i like you."

she ignores the cheers and teasing comments from their friends as they all settle back into their seats and observe them, just appreciating the moment with her boyfriend.

[bumblesimagines]

Green Thumb

Part 15

Request: Yes or No

Nebula and Tonys friendship was v cute and we deserved to see Tony be a dad to her. This feels v short so I'm sorry

~

"Maybe some company will do you good, (Y/N)." Natasha said softly, rubbing your arm. You stayed silent, staring at the table. Rhodes had offered you your old room back but you couldn't give him an answer. Your gaze shifted to the glass of water, brows furrowing when the water in the glass began to move. Natasha followed your gaze.

"I'm not doing that." You said softly, glancing at her. Steve entered the room, heading towards the exit.

"Something's coming." He called. Rhodes and Bruce quickly followed him out. You stood up, doing the same. You walked out onto the field, seeing Pepper staring up at a ship. You watched the woman set it down, looking back at you all. Steve ran forward, helping Tony off the ship. Pepper sobbed, running forward as well. You turned, walking back towards the facility.

"Great, the douchebag survived." You muttered, opening the door and sitting back down. You knew loss would come with trying to save the world but you didn't expect to lose everyone you loved. Clint and Natasha were still around but they were grieving as well.

"(Y/N), this is Carol Danvers, a friend of Fury." Natasha said as she entered the room. You turned to look at the blonde, giving a small nod. You watched as Rhodes pulled up images of everyone who had been lost to catch Tony up. Your gaze dropped onto the table when you saw your friends images appear.

"World governments are in pieces. He did.. He did exactly what he was planning to do. He wiped out.. 50 percent of all living creatures." Natasha explained, voices getting softer. You took in a shakey breath, sitting up and glancing at everyone. You made eye contact with Tony. He was skinny and weak but he held sadness in his eyes.

"Is Barton..?" Tony trailed off.

"Clint survived... Laura and the kids are gone." You told him, voice threatening to crack. Tony inhaled deeply, nodding.

"Where is Thanos? Where is he now?" Tony asked, looking at Steve. Steve frowned.

"We don't know. He just.. Opened a portal and walked through." Steve said, staring down at the floor. Tony hummed, turning to look at Thor.

"What's wrong with him?"

"He's pissed. He thinks he failed. Which, yeah he did but so did the rest of us." The talking raccoon, Rocket, said. You didn't have enough energy to question how a raccoon ended up in space, much less question how it could talk.

"Honestly, until this exact last second, I thought you were a build-a-bear." Tony said, looking at him.

"Maybe I am." Rocket muttered in a tired and defeated tone.

"Thanos has been missing for three weeks now. We've got nothing. Tony, you fought him."

"Who told you that? No, he wiped my face with a planet while the magician gave away the stone. That's what happened. There was no fight-"

"Okay, okay.. Did he give you any clues?" Steve asked. Tony blew some raspberries, shrugging. You sighed at his childish response.

"I had a vision. I didn't want to believe it.. Thought I was dreaming-"

"Tony, I need you to focus."

"-And I needed you. As in past tense. That trumps what you need. You know what I need?" Tony knocked over some glasses, standing up from his wheelchair. "I need to shave."

"Tony, Tony, stop." Rhodes approached him as Tony ripped off his IV needle.

"What we needed was a suit of armour around the world! Remember that? Whether it impacted our precious freedoms or not." Tony looked over everyone.

"Your project got Sokovia destroyed and ruined." You reminded him, finger running over the rim of the glass cup. Tony began stumbling as he argued with Steve, stumbling towards him. He ripped off the Arc reactor, putting it in Steve's hand before falling to the ground. He fainted afterwards so Rhodes and Steve got him to the medical unit.

"This is such a shitshow. I'm going home." You said, standing up and picking up the glass. Natasha turned towards you.

"Stay for a little longer-"

"For what? So I can be told nothing's gonna bring back by family? My best friends? I had nothing then I had something and now I have nothing again." You flinched when the cup shattered, pieces of glass and water landing on the ground. You sighed softly, taking the shards stuck in your skin out.

"Sorry. I'll clean this up." You mumbled, using your other hand to get the water off the floor. Carol blinked, watching in surprise. You opened one of the cabinets, pulling out the first aid kit. You turned your head when Carol stood beside you.

"Hey." You breathed out, running your hand under water to wash away some of the blood. Carol picked up the antibiotic cream, using a cotton ball to dab it onto your cuts. You didn't really feel like healing yourself.

"I'm sorry you lost so many people." She said quietly, picking up the bandages and wrapping them around your hand.

"Well, shit happens." You looked at your bandaged palm, sighing softly.

"I lost two best friends." Carol said, leaning against the counter.

"Nick and Monica, the daughter of a good friend." Carol looked at you, arms crossing.

"Sams' sister calls nonstop and I don't know what to tell her. She has two toddlers, both parents passed away, and she's a widow. How can I tell her that her older brother turned into dust and I couldn't do anything to save him? Dad and I can't even look at each other without noticing how empty the house feels. I wake up everyday hoping it was all a nightmare but then I don't hear Laura telling the kids to get up or Clint going on about teaching Lila archery." You looked away from her, eyes watering. Carol placed a gentle hand on your arm, giving it a light squeeze.

"You did what you could. What you have to do now is be there for the people who are still here. Your friends sister needs you. She needs someone familiar. Someone close to Sam and someone who was there in his last moments." Carol said, watching you.

"You'll never get back up if you keep knocking yourself down." She said softly. You let out a shakey sigh, nodding and sniffling. Carol offered you a napkin, patting your back before she walked away. You wiped away your tears and splashed some water on your face, patting your face dry. You turned and grabbed the broom and collector, taking care of the glass. You put the first aid kit away as Carol re-entered the room with Natasha and Steve following.

"Hey, we usually do things as a team here." Natasha said as Carol spun around to look at her.

"We realize up there is your territory but this is our fight too." Steve added.

"Do you even know where he is?" Rhodes asked, head tilting. Carol shrugged lightly.

"I know people who might."

"Don't bother." You looked at the blue android girl, Nebula.

"I can tell you where Thanos is." She revealed. The humans glanced at each other before gathering in the office to hear what she had to say. You leaned against the doorway, semi interested.

"Thanos spent a long time trying to perfect me. When he worked he talked about his great plan. Even disassembled I wanted to please him.. I'd ask where we would go once his plan was complete. His answer was always the same." Nebula turned her head to look at everyone. "To the garden."

"That's cute. Thanos has a retirement plan." Rhodes mumbled as Rocket climbed onto the table, making a hologram of Earth appear.

"When Thanos snapped his fingers, Earth became ground zero for ridiculously high cosmic proportions. Nobody's ever seen anything like it." Rocket said, making the hologram change to a different planet.

"Until two days ago on this planet." Rocket motioned to the planet shown. Nebula nodded, leaning forward.

"He used the stones again." Natasha whispered. Everyones attention shifted onto the planet.

"You can count me out. I have a therapy session soon." You called, turning around and walking down the steps.

"You go to therapy?" Rhodes asked, brows furrowing as he turned to face you.

"Yeah, it's called napping."

~~~~~~~~~~

You entered the house, taking in a deep breath. Neither you or Clint dared clean up the place. Everything was left exactly how it had been left after Thanos snapped his fingers. You entered the livingroom, gaze landing on the metal on the ground. You sighed softly, picking up the monitor. Clint had broken it. Clint not following the rules of his house arrest was probably the least of the governments problems. You tossed it onto the couch, walking to the kitchen and opening the fridge.

"Beer, beer, beer, leftovers, beer." You mumbled as you sorted through the fridge. You shut the fridge, looking at the drawings and pictures pinned to it with magnets. You swallowed, leaving the kitchen. You stepped over the Legos on the ground, going to the front door. You watched as Clint drew an arrow, shooting it at a target in the distance. All Clint did was practice. Probably to get his mind off things.

"Should I head into town for food?" You called out. Clint stayed silent so you took it as a no. You took out your phone, looking at the contact.

Sarah Wilson

You watched it ring, guilt creeping into your heart. You sighed, licking your lips and answering.

"Hello?"

"Oh, thank god! I've been trying to reach you for the past few weeks. I haven't heard anything yet about Sam and the others. How is Sam? Is he with you?"

"Sam.." You started, biting down on your lip as you shut your eyes. You let out a heavy sigh, taking a seat on the stairs.

"I should explain everything in person, Sarah. I'm not gonna make you wait until I get to Louisiana. Sam.. He, uh.. He didn't make it. I'm s-sorry." You sniffled, hearing a soft gasp leave Sarah.

"Oh, God.." She whispered.

"I-I'll stop by. I tell you everything but.. Sam.. Sam was a hero until the end." You said softly, hearing the kids in the background. You were relieved she wasn't completely alone.

"C-Could you just stay with me on the phone?" Sarah asked softly.

"Yeah, of course." You replied, answering her softly cry.

"What the hell am I gonna do now? Half the folks in town are gone and.." Sarah sniffled. You listened to her soft sniffles and sobs, sighing softly.

"I'm not gonna leave you, Sarah. Sam would have my head if I did." You smiled softly, hearing her chuckle.

"Thank you."

[desertofsnowflakes]

Incorrect Order Chapter 3 (Nesssian AU)

A/N: I'm very(read: kinda) sorry for cliffhanger last chapter. Do inform me if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist! If you happen to find my storyline similar to another fic or one of yours, I'm extremely sorry, I might've just not known. All characters belong to the author Sarah J. Mass. Enjoy!

Summary: Don't first impressions always affect the way you see someone? Well, what more with the Nesta Archeron? Nesta meets Cassian at few unexpected places and to say it didn't go well was a major understatement. Certain circumstances make them become enemies to tolerable company to friends to lovers.

Trigger Warnings: Language

2094 words | Incorrect Order Masterlist | Read on AO3

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Cassian never knew such panic. He knew he was being an ass for acting as if he had the right to be protective of her. Of the person he didn’t even know the name of. Of the person he felt drawn to and yet wanted to forget. Of the person who got under his skin so easily. Of the person whose beauty can bring the best of men to their knees and make even queens try everything possible to best her. He didn’t know her at all other than a few conversations that weren’t his best moments, but he still felt as if they had been together since they were just kids.

All of those were reasons good enough to get him to forget other females. But this woman, gods, this woman wasn’t like the others, was she? No, she wasn’t. He found her on her knees with a man standing before her in an alley on the way back home from the library. At first glance, his heart broke for different reasons. He started walking away, before he realised it wasn’t what he thought it was. When he caught the telltale whiff of blood and saw the glint of a blade from the corner of his eyes.

Undiluted panic and rage —both feelings he didn’t have the right to feel— spurred him forward, knocking the man unconscious and breaking a bone or two for good measure, only to find the woman laying on the floor, her heart beating too fast for her good. Cassian debated entrusting the man and woman over to the authorities. Somehow, Cassian felt that the man and woman were well acquainted before today. He felt all of this was planned from the man’s side. So he brought both of them to his house. The guy was shoved into the basement with a strong sedative. The woman was left in the guest room one of his brothers or friends slept in whenever they stayed over. He didn’t take her to his room. No, he won’t. That would rip open a wound he still struggled to keep closed. A wound that wasn’t even closed properly. That would remind him of images he didn’t want to admit was stored in his mind. One of those images rose, of the woman laying on his bed, golden-brown hair fanned around her flushed face, her eyes screwed shut in—

Cassian shoved that image away and sighed. He should probably have a little chat with the woman once she wakes up.

Today, when the woman didn’t wake up after one week of unconsciousness, when her face was ghastly pale, he felt the optimism that incentivised him slowly seeping out. He started regretting his decision of not handing things over to the police. What if Cassian’s first aid hadn’t been enough? Worse, what if he did something wrong? What if, because of his actions —done knowingly, or unknowingly— would be the reason why the earth loses a certain gray-eyed beauty?

Cassian was close to giving up. It pained him to see her like this. If not for the slight rise and fall of her chest he would think she was dead already. He slowly walked to her bed, crouched and tucked stray strands of hair behind the shell of her ear. He tamped down the emotion cresting in him. Her pulse was getting steadier day by day. He should be happy— his one week of taking leave from both of his jobs and tending to her was paying off. But his mind shot to the moment that day when they first met. When he was stunned by her beauty. Her side-profile, not even her full face, at that. That day, when he realised something deadly was brewing between them. It had been growing from that day, he realised. It was barely five weeks since he had known her— he didn’t even know her. They were just acquaintances. Still, Cassian knew he was falling hard for her. This time, he couldn’t contain the swell of emotion in him. He couldn't hold back the tear rolling down his cheek. He slowly slipped out of the room and sighed. To say he was screwed was a major understatement.

***

Everywhere hurt. Death was supposed to be one's liberation. No one mentioned that there was physical pain in death. There shouldn't be, right? One didn't even have a body to feel physical pain after death. Mental pain? Probably. Physical pain? A big no.

Nesta blinked open her eyes — which again, no one mentioned ghosts would be able to do.

Huh. She expected Hell —for the mistakes she'd atoned, she assumed Hell would be her place— to be all dark and gloomy. What she didn't expect was for Hell to have separate rooms— with furniture and bright blue walls, no less.

She wanted to sit up and get a sense of her surroundings and clear her still groggy head. That's when she heard muffled footsteps. She jerked upright —and immediately regretted it for her head hurt even worse than before — and her pulse raced. She paused. Pulse raced?

She cautiously placed her hand on her wrist, then her neck and on her chest to be sure. Pulse. She had a pulse. She wasn’t dead?

The door flew open revealing a hulking, heaving figure she knew all too well. What was he doing here?

Ohh. She closed her eyes against the onslaught of memories from the alley. Of Tomas. She opened her eyes to find the man sitting on a chair near the bed. Immediately she was keenly aware of the limited space between them. He silently passed her a glass of water she gladly downed, refilled and let her drink her as much as she wanted.

She set her glass on the bedside table and looked up at him, at the concern etched deep on his face.

“Are you okay? Does anything hurt?” he asked.

Why is he being kind? Why is he making it difficult for me to hate him?

“Why am I here?” she asked instead.

“I asked you first,” he deadpanned. Typical.

“Mhm, nice way to deflect. Too kiddish, though,” she said.

“As if you aren’t deflecting,” he retorted.

“How about this? Your answers for mine.”

He huffed. “Whatever. So, are you okay?”

She smiled, “Me first.” At his glare she said, “I’m sick, aren’t I?”

“How nice of you to pull that card,” he murmured.

“Why am I here?”

“I found you on your knees, your nose slightly broken, bleeding here and there with a man holding a knife to your throat in an alley.” He shrugged. “I brought you and healed you as well as I could without gaining attention from the authorities. This is my home.”

She opened her mouth to ask her next question.

He cut her off with a smile and said, “My turn, sweetheart.”

She clenched her jaw. His audacity.

He leaned forward on his elbows. “Does anything hurt?”

“Yeah,” she allowed herself a small smile, “My head feels like it's being hit with a hammer by a particularly unkind person. My nose feels like it’s stuffed with cotton. My scalp feels like it’s being used as a cotton reel. I’m in dire need of a bath. Other than that, I’m fine I guess.”

He nodded, “Well, I’m glad you’re fine.” There he is, being all kind and caring to me again. He chuckled. “No need to give me that look. I’m just glad my one week off didn’t go down the drain.”

That was what she wanted to hear. But it still stung. Her head snapped up as realisation struck. “Wait— has it been one week already?”

He smirked, “Yes. Now, my question—”

She frowned, “It’s my turn.”

His smirk only grew larger. That bastard. “ ‘Has it been one week already’ is a question, my love.”

Shit. She should’ve thought about that. He was correct but still, “How dare—”

“Calm down, darling, calm down. If you want—”

She sighed and said, “Bring it on, then.”

His jaw ticked. He’s angry, she realised. “Who was he?” he asked quietly.

She drew in a breath. “That was Tomas. Tomas Mandray. My ex-boyfriend. He probably wanted revenge for putting him in jail.” She didn’t explain. She didn’t want to and he seemed to understand that. She slightly dreaded the next question. She put on her no-emotion face and asked, “Where is he?”

His face said he saw right through her facade. He pursed his lips, “In the basement. I figured the both of you had some sort of personal history so I wanted to wait for you to wake up before I did anything. He’s not awake; I’ve taken care of that but I don’t think he’ll be unconscious much longer. Do you need anything?”

She nodded, she was still in the same clothes as that day. There were blood stains throughout her black shirt. The mere thought that she hadn't cleaned herself for one week made her shudder. He didn’t change her clothes and she appreciated that though it seemed her face, neck and hands were wiped with a cloth. “I’d like a bath.”

He seemed to consider this before saying, “Sure. You can use my friend's clothes from the closet. The bathroom is there. Take a bath, use whatever you want. I'll get breakfast ready.”

He turned to leave. “Wait,” she called.

He arched his brows, waiting. “Thank you. For everything.”

He gave her his signature half-smile, “Anytime, darling.”

***

Making breakfast was normally very easy. Today, however, it was proving to be a very, very difficult task. Apparently, your brain turns to mush when the woman you've been drooling behind is bathing under the same roof. Also when you're talking to her. He found it a miracle that he didn't make a fool of himself earlier.

But he was sober enough to see the vulnerability behind her guarded expressions when they were talking about her ex-boyfriend. Gods, her ex-boyfriend. The anger he felt when he saw him in the alley was less than a tenth of what he felt now. He didn't know why he was angry. He just… was. He knew she was smart and brave and strong. But that didn't wipe off the fact that somewhere, beneath the tigress exterior, there was a scared little rabbit. He knew what he was going to do might be stupid. He knew it might not work out. Still, Cassian was going to arm the scared rabbit, consequences be damned.

***

Turns out, he makes delicious breakfast. There was steak, salad, boiled potatoes and a number of other foods. Nesta didn't know when she last had such mouth-watering steak. Not that she'll admit it though.

“Did he see you?” she asked after a hearty meal. “Tomas,” she clarified.

“No,” he replied, “I came from the back. His guard was down so he wasn't ready. I don't think he's trained in this kinda stuff. He probably knows a little but not good enough. Why?”

She shook her head. “I don't think I want anything to do with him. Would you mind sending him to the police? Maybe you could just attach a note saying you found him abandoned somewhere or something like that. I really don't want to get you into trouble either.”

She didn't dare look at him, afraid he'll say no.

“Fine,” he said. “You can call a cab whenever you're ready to leave. Take my first-aid kit if you want. Anything else?”

“No, no, nothing.” She cleared her throat. “Thanks. Again

For, uh, everything.”

Gods, why was she getting so flustered?

She packed her old clothes and some medicines he recommended for her headache, ignoring the pang of disappointment. Before she left, he passed her a scrap of paper with an address scrawled on it.

“What is this?” she asked.

“It's a centre I run with my brothers. In three weeks from now, after that Sunday, do you want to come? It's a self-defense arts centre. We could teach you a bit here and there. If you want. Totally no pressure.”

Nesta was stunned. That was exactly what she was thinking about in the shower earlier. Learn how to fight. Learn what to do. Then, payback time. She really didn't understand how he managed to read her mind. She smiled. “I'd love that.”

He grinned. She felt happy. Soon, she was going to give back suffering for all she got. Tomas was so going to pay. She's going to learn how to fight. Never again, she vowed. Never again would she be vulnerable.

taglist:

@shadowsinger07 @im-someone-i-guess @saltyfortunes @cressjacquine @julian-blackthorn-supremacy @champanheandluxxury @zemiraa @ladygabrielli1997 @nehemikkele @heartless--aromantic @sv0430 @ddsworldofbooks @irenethaleia @sjm-things

[breakingsomething]

Dawn Station - Part Two

Basic summary: Chase Brody is being kept safe, far away from other people. So he thinks.

Content warnings: gore, body horror, stabbing, emeto, death mentions

Chase Brody is not ok.

Of course he's not. How is he expected to be? Ten people have died, and now he's being told he's next. He's been under police protection for days and judging by the strained snippets of conversation that he's caught from officers, even the others that had been with him are gone. Ten people, they had said. As far as Chase is aware, there were only nine other youtubers who'd been roped into this shit. Who else has this monster that wants them dead killed along with them? Does he even want to know?

He's been in this room for… three days? Four? Fuck, he doesn't remember. All he knows now is white walls, too close around him, with a bed, a tv in the top corner that he doesn't have a remote for, a black bin, a rolling table that's covered in books and other assorted things that he managed to bring with him, and two doors, one of which that leads to a small bathroom and one of which that leads outside. The second door only opens when he's being brought food. No one's telling him anything. He's scared out his mind.

An officer, a pale skinned woman with orange braids and a sympathetic smile, comes in a couple hours after he wakes for the day with breakfast. Toast, cold, with butter slabs and little packets of jam and sugar for his tea. Also cold. "Sorry, we don't have any Weetabix," she tells him with furrowed eyebrows and a sad tilt of the mouth as she clicks the door behind him. "We do have Cheerios and porridge, if you want something more to eat."

It's all he can do not to laugh. "No, thank you," says Chase, in a hoarse voice that hasn't been used in hours. "I want my phone back."

The officer winces. Her eyes are dark, crimson lipstick slightly smudged. Her nametag says "Sarah" on it in violet ink. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, in a voice so soft and falsely sympathetic it makes Chase want to scream. "I don't know if we can do that. We -"

"The others are dead, aren't they?" Chase interrupts. He knows this already. But it's worth saying to see the woman flinch. "All of them. So much for your oh-so-safe "police custody" bullshit."

She attempts to gather herself as professionally as she can, which is seemingly rather difficult. "I'm sorry," she repeats, and something about her tone is more genuine than before. "They are. But I swear to you, Mr Brody, we are doing everything we can to -"

"If I am going to die today," Chase says, interrupting again. "I want to talk to my goddamn family one more fucking time. Please get me my phone."

She stiffens, but gives a jerky little nod. He doesn't smile at her as she leaves. Not much to smile about. But she comes back ten minutes later and wordlessly hands him his slim rose phone, no expression on her face. He manages to upturn the corner of his lips in response.

Once she's left again, he turns his phone on and practically sighs at the sight of his two kids on his lockscreen. Little Connor and Louise, tiny kiddos, dressed up in their pristine school uniforms and grinning cheesily. His heart swells, and he swallows hard as the lump in his throat seems to expand. He can't cry. He's been crying enough lately. To think that two weeks ago, he was ecstatic to be receiving an email from Jack Mcloughlin himself, giving him the opportunity to play his new game's demo early. Look at him now.

Stacy is at the top of his contacts list, but only because he has her favourited still. He's not sure why. It just feels right to have her there. Her picture is a small, grainy image of her face next to a three year old Connor's. He has her looks more than Louise. Louise looks like her dad. She's a daddy's girl. Chase misses her so much it aches, and closes his eyes as he clicks Stacy's number.

She answers almost immediately. "Chase?" she yells, causing him to wince and pull the phone away from his ears. He hears her inhale sharply. "Sorry. Christ, Chase - Where the fuck are you?"

He swallows again, digging his nails into the palm of his hand. His legs are already beginning to bounce. "Police didn't tell you anything, huh," he mutters. "I'm in custody. They're apparently "keeping me safe," but I'm well aware of the fact that the others - Persephone, Rodney, Stanley, and Khia - are. Well." He clears his throat. "Dead."

He says it so matter of factly that you wouldn't know how close he was to tears had you not seen his face.

Stacy shifts, and Chase hears a door slam faintly. Two small voices giggle far off. He bites down on his lip as Stacy talks again. "Yeah. That's… yeah. Chase, I'm sorry. Uh… Jack Mcloughlin's dead too."

Chase sits bolt upright, eyes suddenly wide. "What?"

Stacy sounds alarmed. "I - Yes, did they not tell you? He died maybe two days ago. Same way as all the others. I'm sorry, Chase."

He can't breathe for a moment. Then he's numb and his body settles into cold, unfeeling static.

"Ok," he says flatly. "Great."

"Chase -"

"How are the kids?" he asks before she can finish. He's tired. He's been doing nothing but sleeping and he's tired. "I can hear them in the background, ha. Sounds like a fun time."

He can hear her scratching the space behind her ear. She does that when she's anxious. Nervous habit. She had gotten a little tattoo of a bee there when they were seventeen. It was a dare from their friend Daniel, who had also gotten a tattoo of a crocodile on his left thigh. Chase has a black bear on his right shoulder from the same occasion. When he and Stacy had been together, they would sometimes kiss the other's tattoos and descend into giggles remembering that slightly drunken night back in Ireland. His chest feels tight thinking about it. His eyes glaze over, and he tries to focus on something across the room.

"They're… not great," Stacy murmurs after a moment, making him jump. He had almost forgotten she was there. "Some brat at school told them about - this whole situation. Told them their dad was going to die. Apparently, she made up a song about it."

Chase hisses softly, grateful for another emotion besides grief and missing to focus on. "Fuck's sake. Which kid was this?"

"You know that girl who was making fun of Louise's accent last year and put chips in her hair?"

"That kid again? I thought the school dealt with her."

A sigh. "Apparently not. They came home in tears. I've been keeping them home since then."

Chase shakes his head in disbelief. "Shit, Stace. Can I… can I talk to them?"

She sighs again. "I… I suppose. But - how have you been? I take it its not been great, but are you at least ok?"

What counts as ok? He doesn't know. "I'm not dead yet. So there's something. I guess I can't really say much more than that."

"Papa?" cries a voice on the end of the line, and a grin breaks Chase's face as he recognizes his son, Connor, yelling from somewhere quite close to Stacy. "Is that Papa? Mama, let us talk - Louise, Papa's on the phone!"

Chase can't help but laugh as his daughter also chimes in, two little voices clamoring for his attention. "Calm down, kiddos, there's plenty of me to go round," he grins, pushing his hair back from his face so he can concentrate. "How are you both? One at a time, Louise first."

"Favouritism," he hears Connor sulk, but the boy quiets.

"I'm ok," Louise beams. He can hear her smile, and sees it when he closes his eyes. "I can't go to school cause Megan Penicuik was being mean. We made cookies, though, me and Con-Con! All by ourselves, no help from Mama at all!"

"Now, that's simply not true," he hears Stacy laugh in the background. Chase laughs too, his heart suddenly aching. Something weighs heavy in his chest, but he tries to push it away, feeling sick.

A scuffle on the end of the line, and then it's Connor speaking. "I miss you, Papa!" he cries. "I wanna give you a - a chocolate chip cookie, I have one here." His voice becomes muffled, and Chase hears him chewing. "Yum yum yum. Can we push a cookie down the phone? Like, through the speakers, Mama!"

Chase listens to a small squabble break out, then hears Stacy sigh dramatically. "They're doing just fine," she says, sounding so tired, yet vaguely amused. "I… I hate to say it, but I should probably go. Connor's games club is in half an hour and I haven't gotten ready at all. My makeup's a state." Her voice softens. "Will you be… ok?"

Will he? He doesn't know.

"Stace," he murmurs. His chest feels tight. "I could die. Like, tonight. That's what people are saying. I'm the last one left."

A pause, then Stacy lets out a shaky sigh. "Christ, Chase…"

He gathers his strength. "Listen. Listen, Stace. If I die tonight - I just want you to know how much I love you, ok? Even if we… if we weren't meant to be together anymore. You're one of my best friends, you know? So… take care of the kids. Don't lose yourself. And by god, don't start drinking again."

She gives a choked laugh. "Chase. God, I - Don't fucking die tonight."

He doesn't know how to tell her he won't have a choice.

As soon as the call's ended, he opens up his roommate's contact. He can't stand the echoing silence that seems to go on forever in the minute or so before the ringing starts. He supposes that if tonight is his last night alive, he should say goodbye. Even if it hurts. Even if it makes him feel sick to say it.

He nearly sobs with relief when he hears the line click, and a familiar German accent speak loudly in his ear. "Chase?"

Chase sniffles, laughing softly. "Hey, Henny."

Henrik curses, and something slams. "Mother of God, Chase Brody, do you have any idea - Are you - Fuck, are you alright?"

Good question. "I don't know," he admits, bouncing his leg anxiously, and staring at his chipped black nails. "I mean, I'm… scheduled to die tonight. So probably not. Really, I've been weirdly calm about all this."

Henrik huffs, and Chase can almost picture him getting red in the face, yanking back his hair and staring out the window of their flat with narrowed, pale blue eyes. "They have not done anything about it? Surely it is not possible that a murderer who is killing in patterns cannot be apprehended? You would think that would be easy, especially if you are being held in high security. Motherfucking useless British police. Not that German ones were much better, but Christ -"

Chase cuts him off before he can rant for another five minutes. "How are the others? Are Jackie, Marv and Jem holding up ok?"

Henrik sighs, blowing out his cheeks. "Mhm. Marvin has gone a bit mad. Fucking idiot is spending way too much time online, reading up on your situation. He seems convinced that you are going to die as well. According to Jackie, he spent all of yesterday out of the house and came back saying he had been performing. But Jackie says he had not had any parties scheduled for that day, so he was talking shit."

Chase winces. His friend Marvin is a child's birthday party performer, a magician, and spends a lot of time perfecting fun tricks and illusions to add into his routine. Chase knows how much he enjoys his job. But he also knows that Marvin's habit of spending hours on internet forums and sites, learning things from other performers, can be bad for him. "Christ. I… Goddammit it. How's Jackie coping?"

He hears a microwave go off in the background. Henrik mutters something that Chase can't hear, then keeps talking. "Jackie has been at the gym every day since you were taken in. Overworking himself. He did come round yesterday and, uh, spoke about how scared he was for you. Cried a lot, poor man. I am not good with comforting people, but I tried. He does not know what to do with himself anymore."

This isn't surprising. Chase is well aware of Jackie's habit of overexercising and pushing himself too far when he was angry or upset. "And Jameson?"

Something clatters, like Henrik's rummaging in a cupboard. A fridge opens and slams shut, and then Henrik is back. "He has been round at our flat a lot. Did you know Euan ended things with him? I did not, until he told me the day before yesterday. He was dreadfully upset. The timing was… not great, to say the least. I do not think he is doing too well, but he refuses to accept any of the help I wish to give him. He kept asking about me instead. Really, sometimes I wish he was not such a good actor."

So does Chase. Jameson is never one to be open about his feelings, instead trying to help everyone else first. Chase loves him a lot, but he wishes the filmmaker would be less stubborn and insistent that he was always ok. His heart aches at the thought of Jameson suffering alone, especially now - he and his boyfriend Euan had been so close, as well. The thought that he might never be able to figure out what happened between them hurts. "Me too. God, Hen, me too. Give them all my love though, yeah? Tell Marvin to take some time to do self care, and tell Jackie to take breaks, and tell Jameson to talk to his therapist. And you… don't you overwork yourself either. I know what you're like. Only one cup of coffee a day, dude, remember. Don't make me come over there."

Henrik laughs softly, but there's a sadness to it. "You sound as though you are saying goodbye."

Something stabs into Chase's heart. He tries to catch his breath through the lump in his throat. "Henrik. I'm going to die tonight."

There's a long pause. He can hear Henrik adjusting, rubbing his face and knocking his glasses askew. Maybe he knows his roommate too well. Far too well, maybe well enough that he knows what he'll say next. "There has to be another way."

Chase shakes his head despite Henrik being unable to see him. "No. No, Hen, no. This - this is what's happening, and we can't just… fix it. I wish we could, cause I don't even understand why, and it's so scary, and… God, I wish we could. I have so much left I want to do, and…"

He trails off. Henrik doesn't speak. Chase imagines him pulling the phone away from his face, squeezing his eyes shut and covering his mouth so as not to cry. The image hurts. Chase hurts. He holds the phone tight, aching to be somewhere, anywhere else other than here.

"You know," he says, voice choked as he speaks. "It's ironic how much I wanted to die a few months ago, and now I'm here, and I'm suddenly so scared."

"You are not going to die," Henrik suddenly shouts. There is anger in his voice that Chase knows is not directed at him. "You are not. It will not just all end like that, Chase Brody. I will not let it."

Something hot pricks the backs of Chase's eyes. He swallows hard, his chest tightening, his legs bouncing harder. "Henrik. Henrik, I - I have to go. I have to go. I'm sorry. I love you, dude. You know that? I love you."

"Chase," Henrik practically sobs. "Shit, I love you too. But you are not going to die."

Chase ends the call and throws up in the black bin next to his bed.

-

Night comes quickly, Chase thinks.

He thinks, because an officer comes to take his phone soon after his call with Henrik ends. He's starting to regret hanging up, but it had to have been what was best. Of course it was what was best. No need to make this hurt so much more than it already does. This is something he has to keep telling himself. No need to make this hurt so much more than it already does.

The officers ask what he wants for dinner that night instead of giving him choices. He gets it. It's a last meal. He takes full advantage of it and orders pepperoni cheese stuffed crust pizza and garlic sticks, his favourite, with barbeque sauce and churros. It all tastes like cardboard. He eats it anyway, because he's bored and his mouth still tastes like vomit and if he's going to die, it's only fitting that he goes out with a Domino's in him.

Before he's even finished eating, an armed guard comes and takes him across the building. It's the first time he's left his room in days, and he's surprised to see how dark it is outside, how little people are around. The few people he does see stare at him, some open mouthed with awe, some with sad eyes like a parent trying to tell their child that their pet fish died. Chase stares at the floor. Stares at the gun tucked into the waistband of the officer in front of him. He's scared, and his heart is racing faster than it has in years, and he thinks he's dissociating a little because he doesn't feel real and his fingertips are numb. Adrenaline thrums through his body, warming him and erasing the painful cold. Fuck, but he's scared. He's so, so goddamn scared.

He's taken to an entirely different room, a slightly bigger one that looks nearly the same, but with wooden chairs sat all around the border. There's no TV in this room. "Sit here," one of the officers says, guiding him to the blue covered bed and gesturing for him to sit. He does so, feeling silly and light with panic. He thinks he's going to be sick again. His breaths aren't coming right and fuck, he might faint from the sudden, overwhelming wave of dizziness that's washing over him now.

One of the officers that has just come in walks over and sits next to him. He's in full uniform, a radio on his vest, a bat strapped to his belt. "Are you alright, Mr Brody?" he asks gently, looking at him with kind brown eyes, and Chase sobs with relief for some kind of comfort.

"H-h-having a p-panic attack," he stammers, shifting on the bed to try and feel something, clawing at his skin under his grey hoodie and desperately trying not to cry. "N-need my - my - my asth-ma in-inhaler, p-please, I can't br-breathe -"

He's brought his inhaler, and he clutches it gratefully, clinging to it like a child. The cold button grounds him. Maybe, maybe if he squeezes his eyes shut tight enough, he'll wake up in his bed at home and be able to get up and shower in a bathroom that's not small or lit too brightly and then he can go downstairs to the kitchen to find Henrik half asleep at the table, three cups of coffee in front of him, wearily participating in whatever Chase's dumb early morning joke is, and then he can eat toast that's not burnt or done too lightly and play his music while he writes or goes on a walk outside. Maybe. Maybe.

The armed guards keep watch over him for two full hours.

Chase Brody is terrified.

It's when it hits the two and a half hour mark that he begins to notice anything different. A faint ringing in his ears. He thinks it's his tinnitus and waves it off, simply swatting at the air around his head like that will help at all. One of the guards notices immediately. "Sir, are you alright?"

Chase nods. He's not, but he doesn't need them dithering over him. Unfortunately, the guard doesn't let up. "Seriously, it's important that you tell us what's happening. Anything at all. Anything that could help you."

Well, that's reassuring. "Strange noise," he murmurs, shaking his hair out his face. "I think it's just me, though, I'm alright -"

But the guard is standing, muttering something into the radio strapped to his chest, and is it Chase's imagination, or are more people entering the room? "What's happening?" he asks, but he gets no response, and he's starting to feel strangely dizzy and tired, like something heavy is dragging his eyelids down. "I don't… h-hey, I don't feel too… too well…"

Someone is speaking to him but the world is already blurring, his head light, floaty. "Stacy?" he slurs, trying to get a grip on the bedsheets beneath him. "Someone needs t'... m'kids, they…"

-

Chase Brody is no longer in the same room as he was before.

He doesn't know when that changed. He can't pinpoint the exact moment where the walls darkened and raised with pipes and doors and panels, he doesn't know when his bed disappeared beneath him and the floor became sticky and black, he doesn't know when the bright light of his room became a soft blue glow, lighting up the room from behind him. He doesn't know when the room had stretched both ways into a long hallway, lined with slivers of light through the windows. He doesn't know why, when he stands, his legs nearly crumple beneath him. And when he turns - god, when he turns, and he looks out the enormous windows behind him - he doesn't know why a calming sensation of numbness settles over him, burning his skin like pins and needles.

He is staring out at the vast abyss of space.

It's a blackness he's never seen before. It seems to go on forever, and maybe it does, and there is nothing but tiny pinpricks of silver light of gaseous stars piercing the inky nothingness. Nothing but that, and the ball of green and blue that Chase knows, somewhere in his mind. Earth. Earth, where he is and isn't, where his body should be, where he never left, and what kind of nightmare is this? What kind of sick nightmare, he thinks dizzily, his thoughts chugging slowly as though through a thick soup. Everything is spinning. There is no sound, the world is broken, and the space is fucking endless.

Move, says the tiny part of his brain that still has sense. Get out. Get out.

His footsteps echo on the metal panes of the floor, and he resists the tightening urge in his stomach to vomit.

He doesn't know why this place is familiar.

The hallway seems to go on forever. All the doors along the way to the left have small, glowing panels beside them that seem to demand some type of access keycard, which Chase very much does not have. Eventually he reaches one that he can open, and stumbles into a large room with a table in the centre, the walls covered in photos and clippings that he doesn't bother taking closer looks at. There is only one small window in here, over a sleek black couch that seems to have nearly been shredded right through the middle. The table has a bolted down chair and a large pile of papers next to a cracked laptop that splutters weakly as it asks for a password. The room is too dark. Chase slowly walks through it, wincing at the sound his boots make on the floor, wincing at the silence, heart racing with the promise of another panic attack that he pushes down forcefully, gripping his own wrist for support. This isn't right, screams the universe. This is too familiar. This is too real. This is too familiar to be real.

Chase has noticed that everything in this place, despite its immediate appearance of immaculate properness, seems to be slightly out of place. This becomes more apparent in the room adjacent to the one he'd just been in, a room filled with sealed metal crates and boilers that bubble menacingly from their perches on the walls, a room which has clearly been nearly destroyed. Black claw marks have torn out chunks of the walls, wires ripped from the floor, buzzing weakly and sparking from wherever they were thrown after their violent uprooting. Dark red stains splash across the floor like a tragic painting that makes Chase's stomach upturn sickly. A vent on the ceiling hisses, and the man jumps and bolts, all last dregs of courage leaving him in an instant. He knows this is a dream. This is a dream, nothing is real, nothing is real, it must be just a dream.

"I've gone to hell," he sobs aloud, clamping both hands over his mouth as a cry climbs up his throat. "O-oh my god, I've gone to hell."

This is what you get for being a shitty, alcoholic dad and husband, he thinks, and promptly throws up on the floor next to the fresh bloodstains.

The rooms start to blur. Objects to objects, light to light, black walls and coloured glow and sparks, hissing, echoing rumbles, all becoming one in Chase's mind. He's long gone past the stage of a panic attack; he's in a state of utter numb calm, now. In one room he finds a long, black lighter and holds it tightly in his hands for comfort, twisting it round and round in buzzing fingers just to feel something solid against his skin to ground him. Please, he prays softly, wiping sweat from his forehead, struggling to breathe as his chest tightens and the world seems to grow hotter and smaller. Please, let me wake up, let me wake up from this, please.

And then something is standing behind him.

He doesn't know how he knows. It's just a sensation of silent shock in him, of I am not alone, a stabbing feeling as the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Something is there. He feels eyes on him. He can't - fuck, he can't move, and all the emotion in him seems to be rising to a painful crescendo. I am not alone in here. I am not alone in here.

"Who's there," he says in a small, cracked voice, not daring to turn. It's barely a question. "What do you want from me."

Nothing but a low hissing, and, most frightening of all, a rumbling growl that nearly sends Chase to the floor in a faint.

He has to look.

He has to look.

He looks.

It's an… an astronaut.

Neither of them move, and Chase's grip on the lighter in his hands tightens, trying to find some form of comfort, anything. "Why am I here?" he manages, swallowing back hot bile that burns his throat and makes him gag softly. "Why, why, what nightmare is this? Am I dead? Did the killer get me and this is my hell?"

The astronaut is silent.

Fury bubbles in Chase's chest, overriding the fear for a moment. "Talk!" he shouts, perhaps stupidly, but he doesn't care. "Please! What is happening?"

Then things get perhaps even stranger, somehow. A glowing 2D box of light appears in front of the astronaut, hovering in the air, too quiet until black text begins to appear on it, cartoonishly video game like blooping noises playing with each letter. Chase watches in awe. He's unable to speak.

<TheAnti.chr_v09> You are the Player.

Chase reads the words over and over and over.

"My name is Chase Brody," he says, voice wavering with uncertainty, because something here is wrong, wrong, wrong, so ridiculously wrong, and he hates the way things are clicking in his mind. "I shouldn't - be here. I think I'm dreaming and I want to go home."

The text flashes.

<TheAnti.chr_v09> You are <player_variable_BroAverage>. You are the Player.

Chase feels like he's above his body, like nothing he's seeing is real anymore. "Please let me go home."

<TheAnti.chr_v09> I am <TheAnti.chr_v09>. I am the Anti. You are the player. Player objective: escape. Anti objective: kill the Player. Initialization - Upon game startup, play <soundtrack_opening2>, set spawn and character sprites -

Chase can't take this. "Stop it!" he cries, and he shouldn't step forwards so confidently, but he does, slashing his hand through the air in front of him. "Tell me what you -"

The astronaut explodes.

No. No, it doesn't explode; Chase's mind is taking a moment to make sense of it, to rationalize the way the helmet has shattered and there is nothing but sheer white and glowing green eyes, hundreds of them, underneath, the largest one on the being's neck, splitting open with disgustingly inhuman squelching sounds, and the way the suit has torn and a mouth has opened up on the stomach, a gaping maw with knives for teeth and a slimy crimson tongue, and the way rips open along the material and more eyes open, burning red skin like charred meat, black veins rising under its skin. It hisses and cracks and growls and hums and it isn't like anything Chase has ever seen before, or maybe it is, because he knows this monster. He's seen this monster. And fuck, now he knows why this world is familiar, because he's been here, he's played this game. This can't be real. This can't be real.

"Posttraumatic nightmares," he can hear Henrik saying to him, the man's voice comforting. "Nightmares that occur after a traumatic event and can contain, what is the word… recurring themes that make you experience intense negative emotions. Maybe that is why you are having such strange dreams, my friend. You have been through a lot in these past few weeks."

That had been months ago. I thought I got over those dreams. I thought I got over those dreams.

He's running. His legs are already burning, chest already tight, why did he have to have used all his energy on his panic attack? Is the monster still following him? Chase can't turn to check, and the blood in his veins is racing through his body faster than he's used to, his heart in his ears as he flies round a corner, barely able to catch a breath. This isn't real, he thinks. It's another nightmare. Please, this isn't real, this isn't -

And then something wet is snaking round his chest, pulsing in a way that makes Chase gag, and something sharp presses into the skin on his back and a burst of numbness runs over him like cold water, causing his body to go limp against the alien - because it is an alien, isn't it, he knew this already - behind him. Cold heaviness seeps through his veins, combatting the light weightlessness that the adrenaline was giving him. He tries to cough again, to speak as his lungs empty of air, but the alien only grips his arms tight enough to piece his skin with sharp claw-like fingers. A glance down at his chest, and he sees the tip of the bloodstained rod jutting through his skin. It doesn't really register. A light laugh escapes his lips, because it's funny, really, how he's about to die at the hands of a video game antagonist.

No, he's not about to die. This isn't real. It can't be, it's another bad dream, of course it is. But if it's not real, then what happened to Jack Mcloughlin and the others, all of those… all of…

The world spins.

And the world lights up in flames.

Chase had briefly forgotten about the lighter he'd picked up for support, and now he's putting it to good use; one flick of the switch and the alien is alight as though it had been soaked in gasoline, burning orange spreading across its suit, the crackling drowning out the monster's screeches. Its grip loosens on Chase's arms, and he pulls free, and the universe spins as the rod in his chest slips out like it's nothing, leaving a gaping emptiness in him. Please, he screams, in his mind or out loud, he doesn't know. Please. Please.

Please, wake me up.

-

White light. It floods the whole world, for just a moment, and then Chase's eyes are open and he is gasping for air, hands flying to his chest and feeling nothing but the soft material of his shirt, no pain except for the squeeze of his lungs as he coughs desperately into his sleeve. There are people surrounding him now; the police officers and armed guards from before, helping him sit up, holding a sick bucket in front of him as he throws up the little that's left in his stomach weakly, too much noise but nowhere near as bad as the silence of the Dawn Station. Nowhere near as bad as the hissing creaks of the Anti. Nowhere near as bad as his nightmare, because it was a nightmare, of course that wasn't real - nowhere near as bad as the nightmare that he'd thought was going to kill him.

I lived. I survived the night.

He's had this thought before, but this time, it's met with relief.

-

"You dreamed about the setting of a video game."

"Not just any video game. The, uh… the new Jack Mcloughlin game, Dawn Station. All the people who played the demo… died. I didn't die. The night I was supposed to, after all the others, I - I dreamed about the game. And the antagonist of the game. It's this, uh, this alien thing, in an astronaut suit. Tried to kill me. Apparently it's weak to fire, although I don't remember that from the actual game, maybe it was a secret that wasn't in the demo we were all sent, but I burned it, and it stabbed me, and I got away, not - not in that order. Does that… does that make sense, doctor?"

Dr. Ross scrutinizes Chase for a moment before turning his chair back to face his computer. The sound of his mouse clicking fills the room, off beat from the eternal clicking of the plain white clock on the plain white walls, decorated only with bookshelves and trays of medicines. Chase has never been in a more boring doctor's office. Usually his therapy sessions have more to look at, but this is a different therapist than he normally goes to, and all he can do is fidget with his hands on his lap and stare out the window at the

earth, the stars, the black abyss of emptiness that Chase could get lost in and never be found

setting sun through the trees just outside the building. The doctor's pen clicks, clicks, clicks. It sounds like the Anti's teeth, chattering against each other as it yawns, its maw opening wide enough for a head to be torn right off. Click, click, click. Chase closes his eyes, the repeating sounds like a mantra. He focuses on that instead. It grounds him.

"You have a history of nightmares."

Chase nods without looking. "I was prescribed triazolam by my first therapist. I took them for a year or so without changes except the lowering of doses a couple of times, because I was getting weaned off them. They helped. Nightmares didn't continue after that."

The other man nods slowly. "Hm. I can imagine the trauma of this recent event that you've been through was enough to bring these nightmares back to the forefront of your mind, especially given the contents of this dream in particular. We may have to ease you back onto medication over the course of your next few sessions here, which should be easier, given that it'll be a couple weeks before we send you home. Is that alright, Mr Brody?"

Click, click, click. Chase nods. Sunlight warms his face, and he sighs softly. "Sounds good, Dr. Ross. When will I be able to see my family?"

The man frowns, his forehead creasing. "Hopefully soon, although it will be slightly complicated, given the circumstances." A breath leaves him, and he tilts his head to the side slightly. His white collar digs into the fold of his neck. Chase keeps his eyes trained on that. "And these are strange circumstances, are they not?"

"They are," Chase mutters. He clenches his fists in his lap. "They are, yeah."

He should have died. He doesn't know why he didn't die. He doesn't even know what it was that killed the others. Really, the nightmare he'd had makes sense. It was easily written off as a traumatic event that had brought back old nightmares. Of course there was no way any of it had been real. That's ridiculous. Just ridiculous. He doesn't know why he's thinking that.

His hand trails down his shirt. Underneath, on the skin of his stomach, is a thick scar that hadn't been there before the nightmare he'd had. Right where the rod had pierced his stomach.

Coincidence. Coincidence.

"Do you have any other concerns, Mr Brody?"

"I don't believe so."

"Good."

Click. Click. Click.

[davidcarner]

Pump Up the Jam Ch 3, Don’t You Forget About Me

A/N: I've always loved music, and there have been some great fics centered around music. Let me tell you about a couple. The first is A Matter of Trust by MySongStory. It's a series of one-shots, and it's really good. (Full disclosure I've been helping the author a tiny bit with the newest chapter) The second, and one of my all time favorites is Permutations by uplink2. Chuck is a DJ at Stanford and Sarah is a student. It is so good. Okay, on to my fic, and I mean you guys are just seem to be enjoying this one… Dillwg, this Bryce is for you. I give you Pump Up the Jam Ch 3, Don't You Forget About Me.

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck, and we all know deep down Sarah will never forget about Chuck. (yes, persnickety mood today)

Chuck stood there looking at his old friend, nay, nemesis. His mind began to process what he was seeing, and it wasn't good. Bryce wasn't the physical specimen he used to be. Oh, sure, he still had his good looks, but something terrible had happened to him. He still had his good hair, and the eye patch did something in a Nick Fury kinda way. But something awful happened to the right side of his body.

"Actually scratch that drink, why don't we go to my place and I get you one, because you may need it."

Chuck studied Bryce. "How do I know you won't get me on some deserted highway and kick me out of the car?"

"Good one, Chuck." Bryce took a look down at himself and then back at Chuck. There was a self-depreciating smile on his face. "If you haven't noticed, I'm pretty sure you can kick my ass right now."

"What happened to you?"

"Long story, and part of why I'm here, hat in hand, needing your help. Chuck, you're my only hope."

Chuck stared at Bryce. "Dude, you are no Leia."

"Really, even if I did the buns in my hair?" Bryce glanced at his right hand, there was scaring there as well. "Yeah, I'd look like shit in a bikini."

Chuck couldn't help but laugh. "You promise this is legit?"

"Chuck, it's so legit. And, not only that, I made a mistake back then, back at Stanford. It was a terrible mistake, one that will haunt me until the day I die, but let me tell you why I did it before you kick my ass." Chuck nodded and started toward the door. "Wait." Chuck turned toward him. "Dude, I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I screwed up your life then, and I'm so glad you overcame it."

"Apology accepted." Bryce stared at Chuck. Chuck shrugged. "You're right, I overcame it, you seem sincere and you say you're going to tell me everything, what else can I do?" Bryce opened his arms for a hug. "You're pushing it." Bryce laughed.

"I know you, Chuck, your saying you forgive me because you feel bad." Chuck started to say something but Bryce held up his hand. "Dude, I know you. Now, let me show you the rest of what's going on, you may want to retract the apology by the time I'm done." Chuck was confused but followed Bryce. The two walked out to his SUV. They climbed in and took off. Chuck noticed it was modified. Bryce didn't use the gas or break on the floor, everything was by hand. There were special modified leavers for it. He did see that the pedals were still in the vehicle. "It's so anyone can drive it." Chuck looked up at him. "Come on, the first time anyone sees it they have questions, and we both know you have all sorts of questions about everything."

"Are you in pain?"

Bryce looked over at him. "You're the second person who's ever asked me that." He shook his head. "No, I'm not. Thank you."

"Who was the first?"

Bryce grinned. "My ex-girlfriend."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Don't be, I ended it." Bryce shook his head. "She wasn't the one for me, and she was only with me at the end because…I need to explain a lot." Chuck nodded. Bryce pressed some buttons. "We can't be over heard now." Chuck gave him a look and Bryce grinned. "So, after 9/11 all the government clandestine agencies came together to try and stop anything like that from ever happening again. It was called, Project OMAHA. To save a lot of time, all the data was to "Intersect" into one place, and a program would be there, the Intersect, to combine it and look for possibilities."

Chuck gave a low whistle. "That's got to be some impressive computing power."

"It doesn't exist in the man made world," Bryce replied, smirking.

Chuck thought for a minute and then turned toward Bryce, his mouth opened. "That's straight out of science fiction." Bryce shrugged. "You can't be serious. Bryce, you can't use a brain as an operating system." Bryce shrugged again, and Chuck thought for a minute. "What does that have to do with you?"

"Chuck, I'm a Special Agent for the CIA and I have my own team." Chuck's mouth dropped again. "You were to be a possible recipient for that computer program."

Chuck studied Bryce and then his mind leapt to a conclusion. "Wait…Professor Flemming's class?"

"That's why they wanted you," Bryce replied, with a sad grin. "Your mind plus your ability to see subliminal images…they were gonna try and make you CIA." Bryce took a deep breath. "Dude, I was scared it would change who you were, change who you are, and I couldn't let them do that to you, but I did it wrong, and I know I did. I've hated myself ever since."

Chuck started to move his hand but stopped. "I was gonna pat your right shoulder or something but I didn't want to hurt you, you know if…you know what, I'm gonna shut up now." Chuck studied him for a minute. "Figures, you always were the James Bond type."

Bryce laughed. They pulled in front of the shut down Weinerlicious in the Buy More Plaza. "Miss it?"

"Like a wart," Chuck quipped. "So, what are we doing here?"

Bryce pointed toward the Orange Orange. "That's a store front for our base. Come on. I've got stuff to show you, and more to explain." They got out of the SUV and headed into the store. Bryce walked to the back, typed something into the keypad and then put his palm down to have it scanned. "You help us, you can have your palm print in here too."

Chuck was grinning hard. "Really?"

Bryce laughed. "God, I've missed you, Chuck. This job sucks the life out of me some days, but having you here just for a minute reminds me of why I do it." They went downstairs and lights started coming on. Chuck was staring at everything. "Hey, tour later, we only have so much time." Chuck nodded. Bryce took a deep breath. "I wouldn't come to you now, but there are two ways this is going to happen, with or without you. I can't do to you what happened at Stanford again, so I'm gonna tell you everything, but this is happening, and I know you, you can help us."

"What can I do, Bryce, you already pretty much said I'd be a lousy spy."

"No, Chuck, you'd be a great spy. It wouldn't be by the book, but you'd get it done. What I was worried about is it would take something away from you, but I'm here to protect you, and I have friends." Bryce hit a button and some pictures went on the screen. "Now, let me know when your lost, because this is a lot." Chuck nodded.

Bryce clicked the button. "This is Langston Graham, director of the CIA. He's the one that wanted you in the CIA. I didn't trust him and the more I found on him the more I began to question what he was doing." Bryce hit another slide. "Answer, he was about to sell the Intersect to Alexi Volkoff, International Arms Dealer. I followed the money, and all the clues, and it led me to find out some very suspicious stuff about the Director. He recruited people into the CIA illegally, a fact I found out from my….one of my friends."

"Your ex?" Chuck asked softly. Bryce shook his head, grinning. "I'm sorry, I did it again."

"Nope," Bryce said looking up and smiling at his friend. "You are Chuck, and you sense these kinds of things. Yeah, she's my ex. She wasn't in love with me. We were…convenient, and she deserved better, you know. Anyway, she is a part of my team, known as the CAT Squad. The Clandestine Attack Team."

"Wait, what, that's stupid!"

Bryce grinned at him. "Someone in DC thought the CAT name would be cute. Anyway, I went after the Intersect to make sure Graham couldn't get it, but he was already there. We were betrayed by one of the team members. A fight began, and I destroyed it. Graham died in the process, the Intersect is gone, and I'm…" he gestured to his body with his left hand. "I was pretty messed up for a while, but while I was laying in that hospital bed, it became evident that Alexi Volkoff thought I had the Intersect. I still had use to the CIA and the new Director promoted me to Special Agent. I can't go in the field but I lead the remaining CAT Squad."

"What about your ex?"

Bryce grinned. "She's a great person Chuck, but it isn't there. There's no love. We're attracted to each other, we understand this life, but she wants so much more, and I'm not the one to help her get there. After the accident, there was no way she'd break up with me. So, I did with her. It's funny, her teammates keep saying its a bad breakup because she's talking more and more about a life after the CIA. They think it's because of the breakup and she wants off the team, it's because she wants a real life. She's great at this, but…."

Chuck gently laid his hand on his buddy's left shoulder. "So, are you open to a bro hug?" Bryce caught him in the best bear hug he could give him, but it was obvious strength was lacking on one side. Bryce clapped him on the back when they released. "Okay, so what's all this have to do with me?"

Bryce turned and flicked the monitor. Chuck stared at it. "Bryce, why do you have a picture of Hartley Winterbottom on the screen." Bryce didn't say anything. "Bryce, why is the owner of the club I manage on your screen?" Bryce didn't say anything. "Bryce," Chuck said softly. "That is Hartley, right?"

"Chuck, meet Alexi Volkoff."

Chuck stared at the screen and then back to Bryce and then back to the screen.

"Shit."

Bryce had grabbed Chuck a water and they were sitting at the conference table. Chuck was positive by this point it was an elaborate hoax Bryce had pulled off.

"Don't believe me, do you?" Bryce asked. Chuck shook his head.

"I've known Hartley for years, he's no weapons dealer." Bryce gave a shrug. "So what did you mean we're doing this one way or another earlier?"

Bryce nodded. "You aren't going to like this."

"As compared to the rest of this?"

"Point." Bryce pushed a file towards Chuck. Chuck opened the file.

"These women were in the club last night."

"That's right, Chuck, meet Carina Miller, DEA, Zondra Rizzo, CIA, and Sarah Walker, CIA." Bryce quit talking because Chuck was staring at Sarah's picture. "She's amazing," he said softly.

Chuck jerked his head up. "Uh, yeah…I mean, I met them last night and uh…"

"Zondra and Carina both said you were smitten with Sarah."

"Bryce…"

Bryce held up his hand. "That's my ex." Chuck paled. "Dude, trust me, it's fine. I get it, she's amazing."

"I wouldn't.."

"Chuck, I have no say in it, but she's a CIA agent."

Chuck thought for a second. "I thought you said she wanted out."

Bryce picked up his bottle to take a drink, smirking. "She does, but she wants to take down Volkoff first. Besides, why do you care…aren't you seeing someone?"

Chuck's eyebrows went up. "Who?"

"Kayla."

Chuck had taken a drink of water just as Bryce answered and nearly spit it out. "Oh, that's funny. She's the biggest screw up I've ever met, and that's saying something considering I worked at the Buy More."

Bryce sat up, interested. "Okay, I'm confused, because Agent Walker overheard you saying, 'My ass is yours."

Chuck grinned. "Kayla gets a finders fee off of me. She gets 5% of the net profits off of the club."

Bryce grinned. "Huh, how interesting. You do know she's trouble, right?"

Chuck nodded and leaned forward. "Why was Agent Walker overhearing what I was saying?" Bryce grinned, leaned back and took a drink of his water.

"She was supposed to approach you, but this is better. I need the CAT Squad in the club, as employees."

Chuck thought. "I can find jobs for two, but the third…I really don't know."

"I have an idea," Bryce said with a grin Chuck recognized. This was gonna be bad. "So to be clear you're not seeing anyone?" Chuck shook his head no. "I think Agent Walker should be your cover girlfriend."

Chuck was positive he was being punked.

A/N: So a totally different take on Bryce but one I really like. I hope you do. More insanity to come. Please, reviews are like food, they are so good…take care, see you next time.

DC