look at the chin quiver

"I'm sorry" Langst Fic(Trigger Warning plz be safe) PT-2

Allura hadn’t got that much sleep that night.

She was aware that she had hurt Lance, and realized he was offering her comfort, as a good teammate- and friend- ought to have done.

But Allura, she had only responded with hate. She had insulted him. She had told him he was useless, and that he didn’t deserve to be the blue paladin.

But now that she had cleared her head, she realized just how wrong she was for saying such a thing to him.

Not only did he deserve to be the blue paladin- he had been made to be the blue paladin of Voltron. He had proven himself time and time again, over and over, that he deserved to be here with the team, just as much as anyone else did.

In her desperation to find an acceptable apology for Lance, she had marched straight up to Shiro’s room, knocked on the door, and waited.

The door slid open within two ticks, and Shiro cocked a questioning eyebrow at Allura.

“I need to talk to you. May I come in?” Shiro didn’t know what about, but he let Allura in either way, nodding, and watching from the still open door as she sat down on the edge of his bed, holding her head in her hands.

“Princess? What’s wrong?” Shiro asked hurriedly, closing the door and walking over to where she sat, crouching down to her level. He tensed when he saw that her cheeks were tear stained.

“Allura?” He questioned, concern littered across his expression. Allura shook her head in response, and inhaled shakily.

“Shiro, I… I hurt him.” Allura managed to choke the words out, and her voice threatened to crack. Shiro was confused, but comforted her either way, stroking her hair and rocking her slightly.

“Allura, who did you hurt?” Shiro asked calmly, squeezing her shoulder comfortingly, patiently awaiting an answer.

She sighed sadly, a pitiful expression the only insight to what might’ve happened.

“Lance. Last night. I told him that I was a fool for making him the blue paladin. He was just trying to help me with my own pain and I had to go and take my anger out on him instead of saying thank you. Like a normal person would.” Allura gestured outwards in exasperation, as if illustrating her point further.

 A picture of Lance’s stuffy nose, pink tinged, and tear stained face popped up into Shiro’s train of thought, and tingles of anxiety bloomed in his stomach. Without thinking, Shiro mumbled to himself. 

 “That’s why he looked so bad.” Shiro looked to the floor, and before he realized it, Allura was tensing, and turned to face him. 

 “You saw him last night? After I yelled at him?” Allura took Shiro by the shoulders, shaking him lightly. Her voice was laced with panic. He nodded stiffly.

“How am I going to apologize to Lance?! I hurt him so badly, Shiro- you won’t be able to form Voltron if Lance is in pain- and even if you didn’t need to form Voltron anytime soon, Lance is still a member of this team, and he deserves to be happy.” Her hands found their way to her hair, and she stared at the floor with wide, panicked eyes.
 Shiro was slightly taken aback by her ranting, but smiled warmly as he processed her words. 

 “Tell him exactly how you feel. Apologize sincerely.” Shiro responded, rubbing circles on her back. Allura thought quietly for a moment, before rising calmly and nodding her head briefly. 

She turned to Shiro, who now was looking at her proudly, and a little shocked. Her emotions were a little erratic at the moment, he concluded, but went along with whatever she had planned. 

 "This will need to be a group effort. I am not going to be the only one on this team treating him kindly from now on. We all include him, compliment him, praise him, and bond with him. I refuse to have one of my paladins consistently unhappy. Shiro, I am going to need your help talking to the others- especially Hunk. I don’t know what he’ll do to me when he finds out what I told Lance.” Shiro and Allura collectively shivered.

“Understood, princess.” Shiro nodded, and rose from the bed.

“Thank you for helping me, Shiro. I really do appreciate it.” Allura smiled fondly, which Shiro mistakenly assumed was gratitude, and took her leave.

“I’ll see you in the control room soon!” Allura called behind her shoulder, leaving Shiro to his own thoughts. 

Shiro had a lot of apologizing to do as well. He had brushed off Lance’s own feelings and problems, and he felt like shit for it.

Allura was determined to set things right between her and Lance, and marched her ass down to the control room. Once there, she pulled up a transparent screen, and clicked a few buttons, dragged a few knobs down, and there was the sound of a soft alarm.  

 It wasn’t blaring, but it wasn’t loud enough to where you could ignore it. She played it in every room except for Lance’s. She needed to talk to every paladin except for him. She needed to discuss the issues they were making when they came into contact with Lance.  

 She needed to fix this. 

 And she was going to fix it right. Now.

Pidge, Keith, Hunk, Coran, and Shiro all made their way to the control room, their thoughts seemingly somewhere else.

Pidge was looking down at the ground, timing their steps.

Keith was looking forward solemnly, lost in thought.

Shiro was focused on the task at hand.

Coran was fiddling with the end of his mustache.

Hunk’s stomach was aching for some food.

They entered the control room as a collective unit, the team taking notice that Lance was not in the room with them.

Coran sighed, and made his way to the exit.

“I’ll go wake the boy up.” Coran sighed sleepily, and Allura stopped him before he could physically leave.

“Coran, I purposely did not wake him up. I called you here specifically to talk about Lance.” The team, excluding Shiro, tensed, and anxiety blossomed in their guts.

“What about Lance?” Hunk was the first to speak, anxiety evident in his voice. 

The aura of the room was cold… Too cold.

“There is no need for alarm Hunk- I checked on Lance earlier. Physically speaking, he is unharmed.” Allura lied, images of Lance’s crimson stained floor coming to mind, memories of her crying in the doorway. 

Thank god he’s a deep sleeper.’ Allura thought to herself, images of the now cleaned and properly bandaged cuts across Lance’s forearms flashing across her train of thought.

She had scrubbed the quiznak out of his floor, and rummaged through a majority of his things(which she argued over doing for who knows how many minutes), and confiscated all sharp items he might have been able to harm himself with. 

She had found him earlier that morning, wanting to apologize, but after finding him in such terrible shape, her confidence shattered, and she didn’t know how to approach the situation.

But now she did.

“We need to talk about the manner in which we treat Lance.” Allura sighed, looking at the ground in disappointment.

“Princess, I can assure you we-” Coran began, but Allura smiled at him reassuringly, showing that she was not upset with any of them.

She turned back to the rest of the group, smiling sadly.

“I have noticed that our attitudes towards him are less than acceptable. In fact, our tendencies to snap at him and reprimand him mercilessly make me angry. Not only that- they damage him and his well being.” Pidge made an act to protest, but Allura raised her hand to silence them.

“I am no exception to this. I made a particularly rude multitude of comments to Lance last night, and I believe I caused him to second guess his position on this team and his usefulness to the rest of us.” Allura’s voice cracked on the last sentence, and the room was eerily silent.

“Oh my god…” Hunk whispered, and a shiver ran up Allura’s spine.

She inhaled shakily, gathering as much courage as possible to get through the next sentences. 

“He had suggested that I try talking about Altea. He told me it might’ve eased some of the pain that came with losing it. I told him that I didn’t want to talk about a planet that no longer existed.” Allura sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Hesitantly, she continued.

“When he had tried to apologize… I…” 

That’s when the tears began to flow.

They were unrelenting, and they were an endless testament to her guilt.

“I told him that I was a fool to make him the blue paladin. I told him he did more harm than good. That I didn’t want his help. I called him useless! I messed up so badly- I let my quiznaking emotions get the better of me and I took out all my pent up anger out on him- and now he’s upset and doubting himself, and it’s all my fault.” Allura finished off with a sob, and collapsed to the ground.

The team watched as the princess clasped her hands over her face in shame.

None of them knew what to do- but they had a pretty good idea.

Hunk was the first to move towards her, and crouched down to look her in the eye.

“I will never forgive you for hurting my best friend. Especially Lance.” Hunk whispered, lifting her chin up to look her in the eyes. Allura’s lip quivered.

“But, I love him enough to where I will help him forgive you.” Hunk smiled, and pulled Allura into a tight hug.

She helplessly sobbed into his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his torso. She hadn’t been hugged in such a way since she had needed to delete her father’s AI.

It stung.

But in a good way.

Pidge burst into tears, and rushed to Hunk and Allura, joining in on the cuddle fest, sobbing uncontrollably. They were upset that Allura was the reason that Lance was unhappy last night, but yelling at her wasn’t going to resolve anything for the voltron team, so instead, they joined in.

Coran joined in afterwards, walking forwards and comforting Pidge and Allura.

Before long, Keith and Shiro were tugged into the bunch(much to their discomfort, but they went with it anyway), and they stayed like that for a few ticks, until finally pulling apart.

Allura was the first to speak.

“I think we all know what we have to do.” Allura looked up at the rest of the team, determination dripping off her tone.

Shiro grinned, Coran nodded, Pidge smirked, and Hunk gave her a thumbs up.

They turned to Keith, who had his eyes on a particularly interesting crack in the floor.

He sighed.

“I think I need to do more than that. I need to confess to him.” Keith mumbled, a blush creeping across his cheeks.

“Holy quiznak.”

part one

How one Hamilton fan made Taran Killam cry (Entertainment Weekly) [x]:

[…] “The most meaningful audience experience I’ve had happened when I was watching the first or second row from on stage, and there was this family with a daughter who was probably 6 or 7. She was clearly affected. Her dad kept checking on her, looking over to make sure she was okay,” he says. “And there was chin quivering, and she had her hands up over her mouth and she was just locked in. Her mother was holding her, her dad was looking at her, and I was just so touched. I’m already pretty emotionally affected from the show — even 40 shows in.

“And then I went out the stage door and they were there! And I lost my mind,” he adds with a laugh. “I literally broke down to this family — I told them they were such wonderful audience members and how it meant so much to me. I started crying. I mean, I lost it. And then they sent me a card! The little girl drew a picture of me and said, ‘I loved coming to the show.‘” Killam stops talking briefly, eyes suddenly quite wet, before laughing again. “Oh, I can’t even handle it.” […]

you know what’s so precious about that kiss? kurt is the one who starts with the comforting and the intimacy, touching her knee, hand on her heart, hand on her cheek, but she is the one who moves in first because all that he wants to do in this moment is just comfort her because he sees how broken she is, and how much she is hurting, but he would never assume to do anything beyond that and he just takes it up one step every time, but she is the one who finally looks at him, her chin quivering, on the verge of tears and moves in to kiss him, telling him that yes, she needs him to comfort her, and yes, this is the way to do it, so don’t hold back anymore, don’t feel like you’d be stepping over any line because she needs it. she needs him, all of him and all that he could give her right now.

The House of Beasts, Part 4

So….I procrastinated homework all day today and continued writing this instead because I love writing it so much. And I know you guys are wondering like wtf is this a Feylin or Feysand fic?? Believe me, it’s a Feysand fic. Just trying to get past the acotar part. So hang on tight!

Summary: Prythian University, the grounds where frat houses wage wars and throw the best parties yet. Feyre, an art student and girlfriend to the Head of House of the Spring House, discovers secrets everyone’s been keeping from her for the last year and a half. An ACOTAR/ACOMAF AU, which begins as Feylin then evolves into Feysand. Begins as ACOTAR, includes AU of Under the Mountain, but will focus more on Acomaf.

Word Count: 3359 words

Once again, thank you all for withholding any hate and supplying only constructive criticism (I really need it!) and sending any requests, suggestions, etc.  Disclaimer: All characters and some direct and or modified quotes belong to Sarah J Maas, as well as some of the plot points. I take no credit for them whatsoever

Part 4: Boxes


That’s what greeted me as I opened my eyes. 5 neatly stacked boxes at the foot of my bed, ready to go, all taped up. I checked my phone, which sat on the night stand, and found that it was nine o’clock at night. I wondered what had happened in the five hours I’d been passed out—then remembered the situation that had occurred.

Rhysand. He’d been horrible.

I shook my head, then rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, walking over to the washroom to brush my teeth and freshen up. Only to find that my tooth brush was gone.

As well as my facewash, makeup, hair brush and anything that I’d ever owned. Even my goddamn tampons were nowhere to be found.

What the hell had Tamlin done?

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Our Little Secret

Clearing out some Missing Year prompts! 

For the anons who requested:

  • Robin and Regina cuddling and sneaking away from the Charmings (probably, not quite what you had in mind, but I hope it’s okay!)
  • Robin takes care of Regina when she’s sick and she acts like she doesn’t want him to, but really, she does

For @oreo-girl, @avery-merry-cherry and @outlawqueener who requested something from the missing year; and for @justfangirlingit who AGES ago requested Regina being sick and Robin taking care of her…even though I already wrote something for the prompt, I didn’t like what I wrote and I like this better ;)

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to you, i thee wed (chapter five)

They didn’t know they were marrying each other until the bride got to the altar. And then panic ensued. Married at First Sight AU.


Parts: 1 2 3 4 5

WC: 4.9K

Thank you so much @booksfullofme and @sarahcada for the lovely edits!

also, @escurochi for such a lovely fanart of marinette’s wedding dress

The people in the room are stunned silent as the last of Marinette and her pink, flowing dress disappear from view,  Mr. and Mrs. Dupain-Cheng chasing after their daughter.

“Marinette!” her mother calls.

“Angel!” her father shouts.

The doors slam loudly with a thud, and Adrien stands frozen in place.  

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Originally posted by unlucky--bucky

Prompt:  I love your imagines! And the Moment of Weakness project you guys have going on is so touching, I can’t even.. And that is why I am here… I just got out of a 2 year relationship (the guy was cheating and a jerk, it was wrong on many levels) and I was wondering if you could write a one shot where the reader gets cheated on, breaks up with the other guy and is just otherwise unconsolable but Bucky, who really likes her a lot (maybe she’s his ‘assistant’ so they’re close friends) comforts her?

Word Count: 855

Warnings: Cheating and jerkfaces.

Authors Note: I will fight anyone who treats you like this. I love you all <3

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anonymous asked:

Prompt: Regina calls Roland her son by accident

She’s not certain how it got to this point, but there’s no sense in wondering, no use in trying to figure it out, not now, not like this. Her head is buzzing, her vision half-blurred as she takes in the scene before her with shaky breaths.

Robin. Lying motionless on the floor, the fresh gash on his head bleeding onto the small rug.

And Roland pressed up against Zelena, his eyes wide with terror, a knife pressed against his small, exposed neck.

“I’m leaving,” Zelena hisses as Regina wipes her bloodied lip with her sleeve, attempting to fight back a rising surge of panic and bile. “And I’m taking this one with me.”

She tugs the child even closer against her thigh, his small face wincing at her punishing grip.

“Leave Roland,” Regina insists, straightening to her full height, still several inches shorter than her sister. “He’s of no use to you anymore. He and Robin both know who you really are, so he’ll just be a liability.”

The woman chuckles, a sound that rattles Regina to the bone, and her eyes dart to the boy in front of her, trying his best to be brave under impossible circumstances.

“He’s far more than a liability, Sis,” Zelena expounds, making Regina’s stomach lurch violently. “He’s insurance. Insurance that you’ll let me out of here, insurance that nobody will try to interfere with my plans.”

“The only thing taking Roland will ensure is that I will hunt you down, and I won’t give you a second chance this time. I’ll kill you.”

Her nostrils flare, hot anger swirling with terror into a cocktail so powerful she feels her entire body shake. Her sister chuckles, a low and dangerous sound that reverberates up and down her spine.

“If I so much as get a whiff of your overpriced perfume, I’ll kill him on the spot,” Zelena sneers, smiling in a manner that makes Regina’s skin crawl. “And I’ll enjoy it, too. This little brat is far too demanding for his own good, you know. I’m rather tired of taking care of him.”

“Then leave him with me,” Regina insists, edging one millimeter closer, controlling her breathing as much as she is able. “He’ll only slow you down.”

“Do you really think I’m going to give you anything you want?”

She knows it won’t happen, is certain of it, but she has to try, has to stall for time until she thinks of something—anything—to save this child in front of her. His small chin quivers, and he looks to her with an expression filled with fear and trust, the force of which nearly knocks the air from her lungs.

“I think you’re going to give me my son. Now.”

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The Disclosure

Ninth installment of the Mr. Thrainson, Mr. Oropherion series. (One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen.)

Based on this imagine found at @imaginexhobbit

Thorin x Reader

Warnings: UGH. Feels. Don’t listen to this song whilst reading beyond a certain point.

Word count: 3,458

Did you know he’s in love with you?

The identical text messages are burned onto the insides of your eyelids no matter how you try to rub them away, your palms working hard against your eyes in hopes that the phosphenes that dance through the darkness would douse them out. No such luck, of course, because all they do is make the sight look too much like some sort of hipster image from the internet.

At the moment, you wait impatiently for Bard to contact you via Skype for a requested one-on-one meeting (that hadn’t been scheduled when he had initially asked due to an irritatingly common misspelling of his name on a post-it), glancing every once in a while at your phone hoping that the nonchalant answers that refuse to occur to you would suddenly type and send themselves to Thorin and Thranduil; both men seemed to have gauged one another, apparently having evaluated the overall feel of the environment you had hobbled away from a few days prior and found there was simply too much tension for either one to be paying you just a simple casual visit.

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title: Travelling By Ambulance

summary: Even the right decision can have detrimental consequences. (another alive!Tadashi AU)

words: 3090

a/n: Title from this song. Listen and weep. 

story also on ff.net


Chapter One - Chapter Two


There was the distant sound of something crackling, crumbling, collapsing. He coughed again.


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Dean Winchester-Just perfect

Title:Just perfect

Pairings: Dean Winchester x reader

word count:1201

Request:Hi, could you please write one oneshoot where the reader is a little bit shy because she thinks she is too skinny? Some one where she isn’t depressive, just a bit shy. And could you make it a deanxreader? I will love you so so so much, you are an amazing writer! Thank you so much <3

Warning: Insecurity and reader force eating.

You glared at your reflection, every bone and every fleck was imperfect to you. It wasn’t so much your beauty, but you weight. You sighed, letting out a dulled breath as you poked and prodded at the bones that stuck out in the most unnatural places, to you anyway. 

You licked your bottom lip, drawing it between the pointed tips of your bottom teeth before slowly pulling your clothes back over your head. You always wore slightly baggy shirts, you would never want to see the Winchester’s face if they saw how skinny you were. 

Especially Dean’s. 

You had had a crush on Dean for a while now, you lost count after a few months. Well, you say crush but you knew your meant full blown out, die for you-love. You were hopelessly in love with a man who would find a dog more appealing. 

Men go for the meat after all right?

You shook your head not wanting to think about your pathetic love life-not that one existed of course. You made your way out of your dingy dark room and into the slightly brighter living room of the bunker. 

‘’Hey, (y/n)’’Sam greeted, peering at you from over the top of the trimmed book that balanced perfectly in the hunters large hands. You chuckled, how Ironic. Sam Winchester, never seen without a book. You looked at the spine, falling in pieces as it tried so desperately to un-bond itself from it’s ledge. 

‘’Hey, Big-foot’’You smirked, earning a eye roll from the said ‘Big-foot’. You walked past, hand reaching to ruffle Sam’s hair. You felt the soft locks pull under your nimble fingers as you snickered at Sam’s grunt, his hand instantly pulling every strand back into place, making sure it was all perfect. 

‘’Haven’t you got someone else to bug?’’Sam groaned tutting as he shook his head, locks sprawling around him.You raised a perfectly slender brow, cocking your hips as you crossed your arms. ‘’Apparently not’’He whispered under his breath, eyes widened at the awkward position he put himself in. 

‘’Where is Dean-o anyway?’’You asked, trying to seem nonchalant. Sam smirked, the corners of his lips twitching into a amused grin. He rose a thick brow, titling his head at you, much like Castiel did. 

‘’What!’’You scoffed, raising your fingers to brush away the strand of hair that fell between your eyes. Sam shook his head, raising his palms as he shrugged. 

‘’I didn’t say anything’’He chuckled, licking his lip as he looked back down at his book before tilting his head back at you. ‘’You like Dean don’t you’’

‘’What!’’You laughed nervously. ‘’Nooo’’You said ludicrously high pitched. You grew so nervously you stumbled back knocking off a bunch of Pan’s as they cluttered to the floor. You scrambled to pick them up, jumping when you spotted Dean walking in. 

‘’DEAN!’’You yelled, dropping the pan and making it land on your foot. You cursed tripping as you bent to pick it up. Dean chuckled, head shaking as he brows drawn together in confusion. 

‘’Woah calm down there, Billy Elliot.’’ Dean laughed making your cheeks lock on a crimson red. He walked over reaching out his hand. You grunted softly but took his hand as you let him haul you up. Dean frowned, confusion setting into to shock. 

‘’Wow, you’re really light , (y/n)’’Dean exclaimed. You froze, eyes blowing out as they glazed over, mouth popping open like a fish. You looked like you just got shot. 

‘’(Y/n)?. Hey, you okay?’’Sam asked, shuffling slightly as him and Dean both shared a concerned look. You ignored the both of them, rushing into your room. 


You had spent almost all day in your room, ignoring Dean and Sam knocking on your door asking if you were okay. You knew they had to go out to the supermarket which was quite a long drive since you were in a empty state. 

You waited till you heard the door click and rushed out to the fridge, grabbing as much junk as you could. You sat behind your door, back on the cold wood surface as you shoved spoon fulls of Ben and Jerry’s into your mouth. 

You groaned, stomach bloated as you tried to eat more blocks of the sickly chocolate bar. You jumped when you heard the door click open. Heavy footsteps sounded as you pushed further against the door, not wanting anyone to come in. 

‘’(y/n). Hey I’m back. Sammy’s gone to get the food instead. Just you and me, Kiddo’’He called out, footsteps sounding distant at fist before getting near. You cringed, you knew he was coming to look for you. You said nothing, biting your tongue and holding your breath as you begged he would just go to his room. 

‘’(y/n)? Where are you?’’He asked. The light that peered through the tiny crack of the door had dissapeared and was now replaced by a large set of boots. A hard knock rattle through the wood and down you back as you closed your eyes, loose tears falling down. 

‘’(Y/n)’’ Dean called, more panicked as he knocked again. ‘’You okay?’’He waited, when he heard nothing he started to panic. ‘’Let me in or I swear I’ll knock the door down’’

You whimpered knowing he would do just so, so you shuffled away from the door and let your back rest against your bed frame. Dean tried the handle, surprised when it opened. He walked in, finger itching near his gun before he spotted your crying figure. 

He frowned rushing over, hands hovering over your face before cupping your cheeks and making you look in his eyes. ‘’Kiddo? Hey, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?’’He asked, pounding you with a million questions. You shook your head letting it drop from Dean’s warm calloused hands. 

Dean shuffled on his feet, knee keeping his balance on the floor as he brushed your hair away from your back before lifting your chin up. You met the gorgeous green eyes as you whimpered, chin quivering. 

Dean frowned as he looked around the room seeing all the food. ‘’(y/n… What’s this? You’re scaring me, Kiddo. What’s going on?’’He whispered, caressing your cheek. Dean knew you never ate like this before. 

‘’I tried to force myself to eat’’You whimpered, sniffling as you choked on tears. His mouth parted in shock with a hint of sadness as he stuttered for words. 

‘’Why?’’He breathed out. 

‘’I’m too skinny.’’You sobbed, rubbing your eyes. ‘’I’m horrible’’

‘’You listen to me, Kiddo. You are perfect, okay. I mean that. You are not too skinny. You’re the right size, your gorgeous, beautiful funny and damn sexy. If you think you have a problem with your weight then I’ll help you okay. But you don’t. Not as far as I’m concerned.’’Dean whispered, cupping your cheeks and pressing a loving kiss to your forehead. 

‘’You really mean that Dean?’’You asked through blurry eyes. 

‘’I do, Kiddo’’He answered. ‘’I like you, (y/n).. I mean really like you. Hell. I love you, I hav-UMPH!’’

You cut him off crashing your lips to his as you ran your fingers through his soft hair. 

‘’I love you too, Dean’’

Tell Me

REQUEST: can you write a submissive Dan fic? nothing too kinky, just Dan liking being told what to do? x

Dan refuses to just let you read in peace. You’re lying in bed, trying to start a new book, but every minute or so he starts fiddling with the bottom of your shirt, or the band of your underwear, or tracing his fingers over your thighs. It’s getting increasingly hard to concentrate, and finally after about ten minutes, you put the book down. “Can I help you?” you ask, cocking an eyebrow.

He smiles up at you sheepishly, “Let’s do something.”

“Something?” you lay down on your side so you’re facing him, faces just inches apart.

He reaches over and places a large hand on your ass, pulling you close enough that you can feel him growing hard against your clothed crotch.”I want to make you cum harder than

you ever have before. And I want you to tell me exactly what to do to make that happen.” He nuzzles into your neck as he speaks, his hot breath making you shiver before running his tongue up behind your earlobe. “I want you to take charge.”

“O-okay,” you stutter, feeling so unbelievably turned on that it’s hard to even form words. You don’t know what’s gotten into Dan, but whatever it is you like it.

“So, my love,” he says, kissing down your collarbone, his hands running up underneath your shirt. “What can I do to get you off?”

“Be a good boy, and go down on me,” you say, barely above a whisper.

He grins devilishly, “My pleasure.”

He slowly makes his way south, kissing and sucking small hickeys down your chest. He hovers over your sex, his breath hot against your lower lips. “Like this?” he asks, licking a line lightly from your entrance up to your clit.

You reach down, tangling your fingers in his soft hair and gripping tightly. “Yes. Like that.”  Your eyes flutter shut as you let yourself sink into the feeling of his tongue against you. “Use your fingers to,” you murmur breathlessly. Happily obliging, he insert a finger into you, concentrating his tongue on your clitoris while he begins fucking you with a long finger. “Oh my god yes. More!” you moan, arching your back. He inserts another finger and picks up speed, his tongue flicking against your clit rapidly.

He curves his fingers, making them hit your g-spot with every thrust and the pleasure is almost too much to handle. Your grip on his hair tightens and you feel your orgasm building up within you, It’s so powerful it feels transcendent, as if the force of it is dissolving your body and there is nothing left of you but nerves on fire. You scream his name, your body spasming, your thighs locked around his head. He keeps going until you have to beg him to stop because it’s too much to handle.

He grins, resting his chin on your still quivering thigh and looking up at you with those sparkling dark eyes. “How was that?”

You giggle, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him up to kiss him, not even minding that you can taste yourself on his lips. “Amazing.” 

Luke Imagine: Trying to Fix a Divorce Part 2

Author: Rhine

Part 1


He wouldn’t sign the papers.

He wouldn’t give up on you. Not without a fight.

No, he wouldn’t give up on you at all.

He wouldn’t let you walk out of his life, just like that.

He forgets that he did the exact same to you, so many times before. 


Luke tells you he wants to talk to you first.

Just sign the papers, Luke. 

He refuses stubbornly, insisting on seeing you to discuss it.

I just want to talk.

You laugh humorlessly, though you’re careful not to wake your sleeping daughter in the next room.

Six months and suddenly you want to talk to me? Is this what it takes?

Your humor is twisted and you suspect you’re not quite right. You’re not sure if it’s because of Luke’s absence or his sudden reappearance; if he’s your problem or your solution.

Look, just have lunch with me tomorrow. We’ll settle everything then.

You’re quiet for a moment, contemplating your choices. You wanted this to be quick, clean, and painless - you didn’t want your resolve to crack and you didn’t want to be the weak one anymore.


The word comes out short, clipped, and you want it to scratch him like broken glass. 

You tell yourself this is the last time you’re giving in to Luke.


You vow to yourself you wouldn’t forget. 

You wouldn’t forget every lonely night, every empty morning. You wouldn’t forget the silence that echoed too loudly or the nights when you collapsed with no one to catch you. You wouldn’t forget long days and sleepless nights of trying to raise a child by yourself, of trying to raise yourself. You wouldn’t forget the hopeless waiting, the stupid yearning, the foolish hoping.

You wouldn’t forget what Luke had done to you - or rather, what he didn't do.

You wouldn’t let yourself forget your daughter asking you where’s daddy or coming back home crying because her friend’s dad picked her up and her daddy never came to see her at school and you wouldn’t forget the messy crayon drawings of Luke and your family that your daughter buried in her notebooks for him to see but never would, or the memories of her sitting next to the phone every night, waiting for it to ring.

You steeled yourself with these memories and you let them make you stronger instead of break you down.

You wouldn’t let him break you. 

Not when he already has.


He’s already there, waiting for you.

You come ten minutes late, just to spite him. Just so he knows what it’s like to wait, to wonder where you are, to feel that flicker of doubt that you had for six months.

He smiles faintly at you, but you are steel and you refuse to bend.

But you can’t help but to notice how his hair is a little longer, a little messier; how his eyes have faint shadows underneath them, how there’s a stubble on his chin - he never did shave until you reminded him - and you notice how there’s something off about him.

The person who sits across from you is a stranger in the body of a man you once knew so well.

“Where’s your ring?”

It’s the first thing he asks you, the first thing he notices. His blue eyes dart to your ring finger, and he sees that it’s bare; a pale strip of skin where the band of gold should be.

He’s not sure why his heart plummets.

“Let’s discuss what we came here for, shall we?”

You’re curt and cold, wanting to get out of there before you broke in front of him.

It’s been so long. You want to reach out and touch his face or hold his hand or just simply feel his touch, but you remind yourself what you were here for. Of what was right.

“About the.. the di - di - ”

The word won’t leave his lips, almost as if he’s afraid he says it out loud, it’ll become reality and crash down onto him.

But you’ve already come to terms of the crumbled remains of what the two of you called a marriage.

“Divorce, yes.”

Luke winces when you say the word, and you raise an eyebrow of amusement at his reaction.

“I don’t see why we need it." 

"Of course you don’t see it, Luke. You’re never there.

“I’m on tour, why can’t you understand - ”

Those four words, those four stupid words hits a switch in you, and you find yourself snapping, your next words coming out low and venomous. 

“I do understand, Luke. Don’t you think for a single moment that I don’t. Because I do. I understand that you have a job and that you have a dream and yes, that requires you to leave. That it requires you to leave for months at a time and that it requires to leave even when you’re here. I understood when you asked me to be your girlfriend, when you asked me to marry you. I knew the terms and conditions; I knew you’d be gone and I knew that for most of the seasons I’d be alone. I understand.

Luke’s lips snap shut and he recoils at your sudden poison.

“But do you understand, Luke? Do you understand that you have a family? That it might require some effort even when you’re gone? Do you understand that maybe when I signed up to marry you, I wanted a husband, not a ghost? That our daughter deserves a father and not some stranger in the house? Do you understand that just because you have a dream and just because you have this job, it does not act as an excuse in this family?”

When you’re done, you’re breathless and agitated.

So much for keeping your cool.

But the months of bitterness leave your lips and you can’t help but to feel a little bit lighter.

You don’t consider the idea that you might be a little bit more hollow on the inside.

Luke is silent, his eyes downcast, avoiding yours. His lips are pressed tautly together, his hands entwined with each other, knuckles white.

After a moment, he finally responds.

“I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

You slam him down, and you can’t deny that it feels good for a moment, to have him hurt as you did. To hurt him as he did to you.

You ignore the guilt that tries to seep into your bones.

“I can change.”

“No, you can’t.”

“There was a time when you thought I could.”

“That was before you let me down, Luke.”

His jaw is clenched and he’s starting to shake and you think you might be starting to break at seeing him like this - so broken, so conflicted, and all because of you.

You want to see him break as much as you want to see him fly and all you can do is hope you don’t shatter before he does.

His words are soft and haunted, a shaking whisper. 

“You’re killing me here.”

“Then I’m already dead.”

He looks up at you then, his bright blue eyes starting to swim with tears. You will yourself not to drown like you did so many times before.

“Just - please, Luke. Please sign the papers. It’s all I ask of you. It’s all I’ll ever ask of you again.”

You whisper, trying to keep the emotion out of your voice. You push the papers closer to him, and he looks at them, chin quivering.

He looks defeated.

“It’s for the best, Luke.”

His hands are still knotted in his lap, making no move to pick up the pen in front of him.

“What about - what about..?”

His words are hoarse and trembling, though he tries to control himself. He tries to control his tears from falling and you try to do the same.

You can’t remember the last time you saw Luke cry.

You can’t remember the last time you were the reason for his tears.

Things change, you suppose.

It doesn’t make it hurt any less though.

“She’ll be with me. But you can still see her - when you’re here you can have her for half the week or for weekends and when you’re not I’ll take care of her. We’ll work something out.”

“But we can’t work this out?”

“You’ve given me nothing to work with, Luke.”

You’re hurting him and if this was a battlefield then he would be bleeding on the ground.

But you don’t let yourself forget the scars he gave you; the ones that still haven’t quite stopped bleeding.

“So that’s it? You’re just taking everything?”

His voice is getting steadier now, the trembling subsiding. He stops sinking into his seat and he starts looking at you, and you meet his stare, refusing to back down.

“It’s nothing you haven’t left behind already.”

You raise your chin stubbornly, though your knees are shaking in your seat.

You just wanted to get out of there, to leave Luke’s piercing eyes before they broke you again, to forget what it was like to be so close to him again.

“So everything we had.. everything was nothing to you?”

His words are whispers, blue eyes boring into yours.

“What was it to you?”

You refuse to back down to his stare, no matter how nervous it made you, no matter how many butterflies erupted in your stomach.


His answer is simple, the word almost light amidst the heaviness of the conversation. 

“It didn’t feel like it.”

Your words are hard and biting as you remember the nights alone in the empty bed, of counting down the days on the calender, of waiting for a phone call that never came.

“Then what did it feel like to you? What did you feel when I held you in my arms when I came out of the airport? What did you feel when I made you mine, when you accepted me, welcomed me? What did you feel on the night of our wedding, when we exchanged vows, when you walked down that aisle? What was that feeling?”

His voice grows stronger, though his volume never increases. His eyes bore into yours, his voice low, his frame no longer weak and sinking into his chair. 

“Tell me, what did you feel?”

“We were young and stupid and it was a rash decision and we were foolish and we moved too fast and - ”

The excuses you rehearsed so many times in your head fall out of your lips, tumbling like an avalanche - hardly the eloquence you hoped for.

His words were threatening to crack you.

What did you feel?”

“I felt love, Luke. I felt love when I kissed you at that stupid altar and I felt love when you got down on one knee. I felt love when you kissed me, I felt love when you returned home and when you laid down next to me.”

There’s a tremble in your voice that you hate, but at least you get the solidity of the words out.

“That’s the thing, Luke. I felt it. It was there, but now.. now it’s gone. What I feel now is loneliness. Emptiness.”

His next words are barely a whisper, his eyes sad.

“Why did you let it go?”

“Why did you take it away?”

You answer his question with one of your own, and you can see the frustration and sadness and anger in his eyes; the same reflecting in your own.

“Please, Luke. I came here to get the papers back with your signature on this. Don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

“And I came to fix this. Why take the easy route of destruction when we can rebuild?”

There’s nothing left, Luke.”

“Then we’ll start from scratch again.”

There’s a faintest hint of a smile on his lips, the smallest rays of hope in his eyes.

“I don’t want to build something only to have it broken again.”

“I don’t want to leave a mess of perfectly good parts lying around.”

You glare at him, and you think you might be imagining it, but you think you see his smile grow, just a little.

“You had your chances, Luke.”

“So you’re just going to do this to our family? Tear us apart like this? What about our daughter? What about us?”

“It’s nothing you haven’t already torn apart, Luke.”

I can fix it.”

“We’re not a car, Luke. Some things.. some things should just stay broken.”

“We’re not ‘some things’. We’re something more than that.”

“Don’t be delusional.”

“Don’t be a pessimist.”

You sigh in frustration, your banter getting you nowhere you wanted it to.

When you look at Luke, he’s not smirking like you thought he would be. He’s looking at you intently, hope in his eyes and the smallest smile on his lips. 

He leans over and encases your hands in his; the feeling of his hands over yours foreign yet so strangely familiar all at once, like reading a line off a forgotten book that once held so much meaning to you before you hid it on a shelf to gather dust.

“Just one chance. Just one. That’s all I’m asking of you.”

He’s pleading with you, and you will your resolve not to crack. 

“That’s one more than you deserve, Luke.”

“Then find it in your heart to pity me. I’m not asking you to forgive me - I know I screwed up and I know I was an idiot and I’m sorry I’m sorry - and I know the last thing I deserve right now is forgiveness.”

You’re silent, pursing your lips.

But you don’t move your hands from his, either.

“I’m asking for you to let me fix things. To own up to my mistakes. To change - and I know you think I can’t, but that’s the first thing I want to change.”

He smiles at you, the light slowly returning into his eyes.

I love you. And I know I’m terrible at showing it and I know I’m a crap husband and a crap father and that the two of you deserve better but you know I’ve always been a stubborn, selfish little shit and that I could never let either you go.”

“I’m not asking for you to love me again. I’m not asking you to move back in. I’m asking for you to let me work on this, one day at a time. I’ll sleep alone. I’ll give you space. And then maybe I’ll call when you’re comfortable. And we’ll work it up to a visit. I don’t care if it takes months or years; I’m not leaving until I make it right." 

His fingers start to rub against your knuckles softly, and you can’t help but to relax, to melt under his touch.

"And - and if I screw it up, if I screw anything up, then I’ll sign those papers. I promise.”

He sounds sad, but his voice is sincere, and you can’t help but to believe him.

“I always keep my promises.”

You raise an eyebrow at him at his statement, and he catches it, a small, humorless chuckle leaving his lips.

“I know you don’t think that way, but I do. I remember every promise I made you, from those late nights when we were seventeen to the promises I made to you at the altar. I know I haven’t been very good at keeping them, but I don’t intend on breaking them. I meant every word. I mean every word. I love you.”

He looks at you, eyes full of hope, and you think you’ve melted.


You’re quiet, the word barely leaving your lips. You almost hope Luke doesn’t catch it.

You hate yourself for giving in, but you can’t help but to love the beam that blooms on Luke’s face; his features lightening instantly, melting away to the epitome of happiness and relief.

“Don’t make me regret it.”

“I won’t. Thank you.”

Almost by instinct, he leans over and envelops you in a bone-crushing hug. 

You’re instantly immersed in his scent and his arms and in him, and it was like falling all over again. 

He tenses when he realizes what he’s done, afraid of stepping over the line.

But you find yourself relaxing in his arms, the smallest of smiles starting to spread on your lips.

It wasn’t home, not quite yet - but for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that one day, maybe it could be again.


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18) Accidental Baby Acquisition

“What do you we do?” Emma asked frantically as she circled the nest inside the cave.

Regina licked her lips and she crossed her arms over her chest as if this sort of situation arose every day. “We wait. You can stop pacing. It’s not going to make it hatch any faster.”

“Hatch?” Emma’s chin quivered as a horrified look sprouted on her face. “I can’t believe Lily just…just took off!”

“Yes, well…abandoning the young and defenseless is a rather reoccurring theme around here,” Regina looked at the dragon egg thoughtfully. “And here I am ready to care for whatever comes out of that egg.”

“Okay, if you’re going to give me some guilt trip about giving up Henry, you can save it… and this is not karma or fate…destiny, whatever you fairytale people call shitty situations,” Emma ranted and continued to circle the rocky next.

The egg was big enough for a human baby and slightly speckled. Regina maintained calm, but Emma was about to lose it. “I’m not going to lecture you about Henry. All I should have done is thank you for giving him up so I had the joy of raising him. This dragon baby, however, I’m not so sure I’m willing to commit to eighteen years of living with an uncontrollable arsonist.”

“Are you serious? I’m going to kill Lily! How did she…birth….erm… Lay…or squeeze this giant vagina egg out anyway?” Emma was full of questions; her concerns were interrupted by a distinct cracking sound. “Oh shit, it’s coming! Where the hell is grandma?”

“Emma, it’s just a baby…” Regina moved closed to the egg and examined the hairline crack. A little moving silhouette was visible inside the egg, and Regina furrowed her eyebrows as she inspected it, “…I think.”

“Well, Lily was born human. She only turned all dragony when she got to Storybrooke,” Emma swallowed hard as her throat went dry.

“With these dragon babies it’s a 50/50 chance of the babe hatching out human or dragon. They can usually change back and forth right away, but don’t know they’re doing it,” Regina explained, having much more familiarity with the dragon species than Emma had.

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Midnight Sun: Chapter One

Rated M (eventually).  Special thanks to swishywillow, bleedtoloveher, and jeeno2 for pre-reading, beta-ing, and making sure my grasp of kindergarteners and kindergarten teachers wasn’t woefully inaccurate.


Madge surveyed this year’s crop of parents—it was pretty much what she’d expected.  Mostly married couples around her age or slightly older, with a tiny handful of single parents—or just a parent whose spouse couldn’t make it to Parents’ Night.  There was a sickeningly perfect blonde couple, the wife seeming to have taken the night off from what Madge could only assume was her part-time job as a Real Housewife, and her husband all giant muscles, gelled hair, and square-jawed.  She had a sneaking suspicion that whichever child was theirs, he or she would be a little…high maintenance.  And judging from the series of questions they peppered her with—including questions about her college, which they followed with an eyeroll toward each other, as if a state college couldn’t possibly turn out a teacher qualified to teach their little monster—she was going to have her hands full with the parents as well.


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If Jensen is gonna cry … he sure as hell isn’t going to do it in front of all these people.

This isn’t any “single man tear” shit.

This is grown ass adult-too damn tough for this crap-why the hell am I like this, blubbering.

He has to get out of here quick before the waterworks start.

So, he takes his phone, shoves it in his pocket and bolts out of the green room when everyone is otherwise distracted.

Everyone except Misha.

Jensen no sooner shuts his hotel door when there is a knock on it … which really sucks because the second that latch clicked, he went into full infant-mode .

“Not now!” he garbles, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Are you okay?”

Misha’s voice makes all his bristles soften. “Yeah … just need a minute.”

“Let me in.”

“Just give me a minute.”


Jensen sighs, knowing that he can either cry his way through another twenty minutes of this, or just let the guy in and kiss his own masculine-posturing goodbye. He takes a few gulping, shaky breaths and shuffles back to the door—cracking it open and peeking through the wet and the hurt to see Misha—all concern and sad smiles.

“Can I come in now?” Misha asks, softer and less demanding than he was a moment ago.

Jensen nods and steps back into the shadows of his unlit hotel room.

“What happened?”

He watches as Misha keeps his eyes trained on him—not even looking back to shut the door once he’s through. “It’s stupid” Jensen says with a sigh—face instantly scrunching up with more tears.

“Obviously it isn’t” Misha confirms, stepping forward to wrap Jensen up before he can try to turn and run.

He could still try, but he won’t—so Jensen just lets his face nestle against Misha’s shoulder, trying not to concern himself that his snot is probably soaking into the guy’s shirt—he knows he won’t mind.

“You rushed out of there so quick … and the look on your face. Did something happen?”

Misha’s voice rumbles through him, beating all the tension out of Jensen’s muscles … and his will. “I got a text …” he finally admits, crying even harder just thinking about it.

Misha pulls back and stares at him hard. “What did it say? Are Dani and JJ alright? Do you need to go? I’ll cover for you … whatever you need, just—”

Jensen shakes his head and waves at the man to stop; but Misha’s mouth hangs open with the rest of his words still poised on his tongue. “It’s not …” Jensen sniffles and drags his sleeve under his nose.  “It’s nothing like that … it ain’t even bad. I don’t know … I have no fucking idea …” He breaks down again and Misha squeezes his shoulders, ducking a little to keep Jensen eyes focused on his own.

“What is it then?”

With a slight shake of his head, Jensen pulls away so he can fish into his pocket, pulling out the phone and pulling up the last text he had just received from Danneel a few minutes before. His face cracks even more as he looks at it—so he quickly passes it off to Misha.

The man’s eyes scrunch when he takes the phone, staring down at the texted picture with obvious confusion. His expression lightens a moment later—nothing but satin smiles and curling brows. “This …” Misha begins, turning Jensen’s phone back to him, “this is what made you cry?”

Jensen nods reluctantly and takes one more peek at the photo of his daughter—messy hair, still in her pajamas, a big grin crowding her dimpled cheeks as she holds up a scribbled, colorful, crumpled piece of paper saying “I miss you daddy” in capital, half backwards letters.

He breaks down again—broad shoulders heaving with the sight.

Misha’s gentle laugh is a comfort as their arms wrap around each other once more—it solidifies the fact that he is just being silly … but also that his friend isn’t judging him for it.

“You know …” Misha starts, running his hand flat and smooth up and down Jensen’s spine. “This is probably the most adorable thing you’ve ever done.”

Jensen barks out a unexpected laugh, coughing around the tears that are still flowing in spite of it. “Yeah? Looking like a big man-baby really melts your heart, huh?”

Misha chuckles again as he lets Jensen go—stepping away some so he can look him over from watery eyes to quivering chin. With a lesser shake of his head, he quirks up his grin. “No …” he laughs, moving around so he can drape his arm around Jensen’s neck. “Seeing you love someone like you love her, does.”


Watch the Tide Rise: Dress

These are just quick glimpses into Liza and Harry’s life post-Sink. Feedback is lovely! <3

Just Anchor and Hope & When We Sink, We Float


When Penny walked out of the dressing room, I burst into tears. 

If anything, I was more surprised that I lasted this long without crying. Because, no, it wasn’t the price tags, or the necklines, or the fact that I couldn’t get the first one over my hips. I was crying because my sister looked better in a wedding dress than I did.

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The Breaths Between

part 1.

The way she puts her forehead to his

 Within the space of that one breath, you see fully her need to be touching him, to absorb as much of him as she can. And her relief he’d pulled her back when he did.

Then, the way she holds on to him

 As she sees him begin to pull away, her breath catches, and infinitesimally shaking her head, she instinctively tightens her grip, that knowing fear of what his leaving would mean. All within the space of a breath.

The powerful soul-deep equilibrium they found within one another, is thrown completely off at just the mere thought of being separated from each other. 

Some of the greatest moments Claire and Jamie ever share, lie within the breaths between the things they say, from the very first time the see other. Those nuanced, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moments that live within the space of a single breath - the quiver of a chin, a look that lingers that split second longer, that moment where the body’s exuding more emotion than there are words for, where thinking is unnecessary, where only the need to Breath each other in, matters. It’s electric!