I run full pelt to my desk, grab my jacket and my purse, and dash to front reception, ignoring the moans and curses emanating from the b*st*rd still prostrate on the kitchen floor. I burst out of the building and stop for a moment as the cool air hits my face, take a deep breath, and compose myself. But I haven’t eaten all day, and as the very unwelcome surge of adrenaline recedes, my legs give out beneath me and I sink to the ground.
I watch with mild detachment the slow motion movie that plays out in front of me: Christian and Taylor in dark suits and white shirts, leaping out of the waiting car and running toward me. Christian sinks to his knees at my side, and on some unconscious level, all
Sherlock stopped kissing him, although he did not move away even an inch. He leaned heavily against John, pinning him into the wall, and put his face in John’s neck, and kissed it. A soft, chaste brush of his lips.
Suddenly John thought he might go plummeting to the floor. Or burst into tears. He squeezed his eyes shut and put his hands in Sherlock’s thick curls, keeping him against him. Sherlock loved him, he realized. Sherlock adored him. It was all right there. How had he missed it for so long?
He wanted to say he was sorry. What he said instead was what he should have said ages ago. “I love you,” he said.
Sherlock lifted his head and looked at him. Looked at him. His lips were swollen and rosy and wet and the pupils of his eyes were blown wide and his hair was a mess and every inch of him was John’s and the realization of this was so…so…undeniable. Had he known this all along? Had he reveled in the comfort of it without ever recognizing it for what it was?
“How can you ask me if we’re dating?” said Sherlock, still slightly out of breath. “We’re married.
Chuck backed away from the computer, fisting his hands and resisting the overwhelming compulsion to write. His back collided with the bookshelf behind him, which shook and caused the empty beer bottle resting there to fall down to the floor, bursting into tiny shards of glass.
The writer froze on the spot. He had just witnessed the first of three omens that had come to him in the form of a vision and foretold the death of a loved one.
Dean. The last person Chuck wanted to see right now; the second omen.
“Why are you here!?” Chuck cried, stumbling across his living room to meet the Winchesters, who at the sight of him stiffen and went into alarm mode.
“Chuck, what’s wrong?” Sam asked. His face betrayed the calm tone of his voice. Chuck Shurley was not someone who got easily scared nowadays, not after going through something as damn scary as the Apocalypse. Whatever had him like this was definitely something to worry about.
“It’s you!” Chuck pointed an accusatory finger at Dean, who tensed up at the gesture.
“The hell did I do?” barked Dean.
“You coming here, asking for me. That’s the second sign.” Chuck looked around, his eyes wild. “Shards of brown glass, that was first. Then you calling my name, that’s the second–”
Sam walked over to Chuck and gripped his shoulders. “Chuck. Signs of what?”
“Y/N! It’s her, she’s going to die!” Chuck lamented. “Drop dead on the floor, just like that.”
Dean and Sam flinched. No, not you. Their most dear friend, a fearless and kind hunter…just dropping dead? That wasn’t possible.
“I–I thought if I didn’t write down what I saw, I could stop it from happening,” Chuck sobbed. “Thought that–that if I acknowledged her death it would become unavoidable.”
“What can we do?” demanded Dean. “Chuck, please!”
The eerie chiming of the grandfather clock filled the air before dying and leaving an echo behind, raising goosebumps on the three men.
“Chuck?” Dean’s face went pale as he stared at the longcase clock in the living room. Sam’s hands on the writer’s shoulders dropped to his sides, his whole body shaking lightly. Without the support of Sam’s hands, Chuck fell to his knees and buried his face in his hands.
“Is she–” Dean started, gulping down the sudden knot that had formed in his throat, “Is Y/N…dead?”
“She is, in this life anyway.” Chuck took a shuddering breath. “We will never see her again.”
“What do you mean, ‘in this life’?”
“I mean, she is in a completely parallel world that is not our own.” Chuck rose to his feet and leaned on a chair nearby to prevent his shaky knees from collapsing. “Definitely alive, and I hope happy.”
“If she’s alive then we need to get to her!” Dean said. “We just need–”
“She doesn’t remember anything from her life,” Chuck interrupted.
“It’s too late.”
“But she’s watching over us as we speak,” he said after a moment. “Well, ’reading about us’ is actually a better description for it.”
“She’s…reading about us?”
His eyes glazed over when he looked up to the ceiling, as if he could see past it and up to infinity. “At the other side of where we are, staring at a computer screen is Y/N, not knowing that the characters she reads about were once part of her life.”
I run full pelt to my desk, grab my jacket and my purse, and dash to front reception, ignoring the moans and curses emanating from the bastard still prostrate on the kitchen floor. I burst out of the building and stop for a moment as the cool air hits my face, take a deep breath, and compose myself. But I haven’t eaten all day, and as the very unwelcome surge of adrenaline recedes, my legs give out beneath me and I sink to the ground. I watch with mild detachment the slow motion movie that plays out in front of me: Christian and Taylor in dark suits and white shirts, leaping out of the waiting car and running toward me. Christian sinks to his knees at my side, and on some unconscious level, all I can think is: He’s here. My love is here.
Summary: You’re dating Jungkook and he kisses someone else but it was all a misunderstanding. Members: Jungkook x Reader Type: Angst, Fluff Length: 1,151 words
It was an understatement to say that you had a bad day.
It seemed as though everything that could have gone wrong went wrong, and you didn’t even want to think about what had happened in the span of only about 8 hours. It had all started off when you had accidentally forgotten your essential work folder at home, which rendered you stuttering and practically speechless at the meeting you had to lead. You dropped your lunch and it burst all over the floor, which caused you to have to run from your job to grab a meal at a expensive restaurant which happened to murder your wallet. You were in the middle of walking home when a sudden clap of thunder caught you off guard, and before you knew it, you were soaked to the bone and shivering as you hurried out of the rain and into the lobby of your apartment building.
Gaster let out a shout of pain as the bones burst from the floor, but that shout soon descended into a steady laugh as he reveled in the sensation. The sensation of being real. “Still bitter about that are we?” he smirked, locking eyes with the blaster rather than it’s wielder as he reached into his soupy coat pocket and clasped something unseen in his fingers.
“I stuck to my end of the deal. I only hurt him when he came to me begging to be my subject again. How is he going to react when he learns you killed me before I had a chance to repay the favor?… now he’ll have no choice but to forget…”
“You fucking bitch!” he half screams, half groans at me, but I am already out the door.I run full pelt to my desk, grab my jacket and my purse, and dash to front reception, ignoring the moans and curses emanating from the bastard still prostrate on the kitchen floor. I burst out of the building and stop for a moment as the cool air hits my face, take a deep breath, and compose myself. But I haven’t eaten all day, and as the very unwelcome surge of adrenaline recedes, my legs give out beneath me and I sink to the ground.
I watch with mild detachment the slow motion movie that plays out in front of me: Christian and Taylor in dark suits and white shirts, leaping out of the waiting car and running toward me. Christian sinks to his knees at my side, and on some unconscious level, all I can think is: He’s here. My love is here.
“Ana, Ana! What’s wrong?” He scoops me into his lap, running his hands up and down my arms, checking for any signs of injury. Grabbing my head between his hands, he stares with wide, terrified, gray eyes into mine. I sag against him, suddenly overwhelmed with relief and fatigue. Oh, Christian’s arms. There is no place I’d rather be. “Ana.” He shakes me gently. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?” I shake my head as I realize I need to start communicating. “Jack,” I whisper, and I sense rather than see Christian’s swift glance at Taylor, who abruptly disappears into the building. “Fuck!” Christian enfolds me in his arms. “What did that sleazeball do to you?”
And from somewhere just the right side of crazy, a giggle bubbles in my throat. I recall Jack’s utter shock as I grabbed his finger. “It’s what I did to him.” I start giggling and I can’t stop. “Ana!” Christian shakes me again, and my giggling fit ceases. “Did he touch you?” “Only once.” I feel Christian’s muscles bunch and tense as rage sweeps through him, and he stands up swiftly, powerfully—rock steady—with me in his arms. He’s furious. No! “Where is that fucker?” From inside the building we hear muffled shouting. Christian sets me on my feet. “Can you stand?” I nod. “Don’t go in. Don’t, Christian.” Suddenly my fear is back, fear of what Christian will do to Jack. “Get in the car,” he barks at me. “Christian, no.” I grab his arm. “Get in the goddamned car, Ana.” He shakes me off. “No! Please!” I plead with him. “Stay. Don’t leave me on my own.” I deploy my ultimate weapon. Seething, Christian runs his hand through his hair and glares down at me, clearly wracked with indecision. The shouting inside the building escalates, and then stops suddenly.
“You heard her, she’s fine,” Gwen repeated and moved to pull Arizona into her body.
Arizona shrugged away and Callie shoved Gwen.
“You don’t touch without permission,” Callie said.
Gwen stumbled back but righted herself. Then she lunged at Callie and Callie laid her out.
There was stunned surprise from the other dancers and then someone shouted “great right hook,” and the floor burst into applause.
Callie locked gazes with Arizona, who didn’t look terribly happy with her and she just shrugged. Arizona’s lip quirked up helplessly and Callie grinned back. She didn’t even notice Penny rolling her eyes behind her as she walked off the floor and out the door.
“Sit,” Arizona ordered. And so Callie sat down in a plush
chair in the women’s lounge off the restroom.
“Let me see,” Arizona demanded holding out her hand.
“I know how to throw a punch,” Callie argued.
“Callie, you’re a surgeon, let me see your hand.”
Callie reluctantly gave Arizona her hand and Arizona began a
“I had it handled,” Arizona stated.
Callie snorted. “She wasn’t taking no for an answer.”
“She would have. And it wouldn’t have resulted in me almost getting arrested. You’re lucky it was Frank who showed
Yeah, it had probably helped that Callie had repaired
Frank’s knee after he tore two ligaments chasing a suspect. He’d taken one look
at the scene, saw Callie and said it looked like a clean case of self-defense
to him. He’d actually offered to arrest Gwen for starting it, but both Arizona
and Callie had turned him down.
“She had it coming,” Callie replied and winced slightly when
Arizona checked her middle knuckle. It had been more than a few years since
she’d last thrown a punch. Maybe she was a little rusty.
“Callie, it isn’t your job to protect me. You’ve moved on, found someone amazing. I can take care of myself.
Please, just let me next time.”
“I don’t know how to do that.”
“Then learn! Just like I have to learn to see you dancing with someone else and
not rip her hands off of your body. “
That information seemed to momentarily shock Callie into
“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem for awhile,”
Callie said with a sarcastic chuckle. She’d texted Penny an apology after
everything had died down, but hadn’t received a reply.
“Do you blame her?” Arizona asked. She had finished her medical examination of
Callie’s hand, but still held it between both of her own on her lap.
“She knows that we’re friends,” Callie argued.
Arizona just stared at Callie who looked so clueless she
couldn’t stand it any more. So she did what she’d wanted to do from the moment
Callie had walked into the club. She pulled Callie forward and kissed her. She felt
Callie start to pull back and followed. Then Callie gave in.
This was nothing like their first kiss. It was raw and deep
and everything Arizona’d been craving for the past two years. But reluctantly
she slowed it down, pulled back and stood up.
“We’ll never be just friends,” Arizona stated
firmly. And then she walked out of the bathroom leaving a stunned Callie in
The walls… The walls were closing in… Dipper was running. Running as fast as his legs could carry him, before reaching yet another dead end… The walls burst to flames… The floor shattered… Dipper was freefalling… And right in front of him was a creature as tall as a skyscraper and as cruel as fate itself… Bill Cipher… Dipper found that he couldnt shut his eyes or cover his ears as Bill got right up to his face and released the most taunting, cruel, terror inducing…
“I suddenly had my very own dog. Both a wonderful gift and, frankly, the absolute last thing I needed at the time. When Peggy appeared in my life I’d just ended a long-term relationship and the Hart heart (serious circumstances call for merry wordplay, I find) was not in the best shape.
Almost as soon as my new pet crossed the threshold, I succumbed to a miserable stretch of glandular fever. I was feeling very lonely, very isolated, very depressed and frankly very uncertain whether I could ever love or be loved again. It was as though the exhaustion and the sadness of being alone punched me in the stomach. I crumpled on to the kitchen floor and burst out crying. I couldn’t stop. Deep guttural sobs. I can still remember, vividly, Peggy lying patiently in my arms as my tears trickled down her fur.
I was grateful to have something to cuddle. And I thought, perhaps this dog is going to turn it all around. Perhaps that’s why I found myself saying yes.”
He might have been speeding down the street in order to get to the liquor store before it closed.
But there were a series of very unfortunate events that justified it. Well, the “series” was really only one stupid accident. He’d bought two six packs in preparation for the night and put them in the mini-refrigerator as one does. After the first two beers, he’d went for another and the entire rack inside the mini-fridge collapsed. The mini-fridge which was, of course, stacked on top of a counter in the corner of his room cause every beer crashed to the floor and burst open, save for one bottle which lay unbroken.
After cleaning the mess–since he doubted the motel staff would care–Henry realised he would have to get more beer. The time the liquor store closed, which he had written on his arm as he writes everything he needed to remember, was in ten minutes.
So he was out the door, speeding down the street, and finally at the store in five minutes. Plenty of time to comfortably purchase his beer. He stepped through the door and sighed of relief. As he looked over to the tired looking man at the register, he realised what a strange place the liquor store was just before it closed.