ab fic

A Bedtime Story

hello, loves! i’ve had this idea in my head for a little while now, and i’ve finally been able to put the words to the page! i’m really happy with how this turned out, so i hope you enjoy! please let me know what you think!

huge thank you to the lovely @takemeawaytocamelot for being the best motivator and cheerleader ever, as well as my other tss ladies who are always the most supportive bunch. 🤗

IMPORTANT: THIS IS STRICTLY A ONE-SHOT. NO MORE PARTS WILL BE WRITTEN.

-the eldest bairn, kait xxx


“Did you really think that I would swallow this… fairytale? Do you think I’m still five years old?”

It’s not a fairytale, Bree.


The door shut behind her with a sharp bang! that echoed throughout the house, reverberating off of the walls and causing the vanity to shake. Unperturbed with the state of the mirror or the trinkets that surrounded it, she stomped over to the bed and unceremoniously plopped down on it, grasping the hairbrush and angrily running it through her hair.

All of her life, she thought that she was someone else–countless times she had helped her father, spending hours upon hours looking through their genealogy chart in an attempt to trace their ancestry throughout Europe. He had played along, telling her about his grandparents and great-grandparents, all the way to the eldest ancestor that they knew of: a Captain of Dragoons, stationed in Scotland with a pristine record and high regards from the Crown for his service. Frank had always talked so highly of him, but whenever his name was mentioned, her mother would leave the room.

She realized that her mother never truly told her much about her own heritage, just about Uncle Lamb and her parents, but besides that…

I suppose she wanted to keep that under wraps, too, she thought, brushing the other side of her head.

A moment passed before she fully paused, looking down at the curling waves of her auburn hair. Her father didn’t have red hair–granted, neither did her mother. She remembered asking him once where her red hair came from, and he had just replied, “One of your relatives.”

One of my relatives. My father…?

She set the brush down on the bed, running her fingers through the soft strands. As much as she didn’t know right now, one thing was certain: Frank Randall was not her biological father, this Jamie Fraser–whoever he might be–is. However, that was the only straw she could grasp from the bunch that her mother gave her; she had lost Brianna as soon as she said Culloden.

How could one believe such a tale? Her father apparently did–the other one.

Jamie Fraser.

So many emotions were coursing through her veins, but the one of highest supply was frustration and anger. She felt betrayed by her mother, of whom she felt had lied to her all of her life, making her believe that Frank Randall was her biological father. And after a moment, anger seemed to triumph over all other emotions, and she flung herself off of the bed, pulling a bag off of the floor and stuffing as much into it as humanly possible. She needed to get out of there. Now.

After realizing that not everything was going to fit if she kept shoving everything into the small opening of the rucksack, she instead started emptying the contents onto the floor. She shook the bag harshly, taking her anger out on the innocent fabric pack, before she heard something plop unceremoniously onto the floor. At first, she didn’t recognize it, but after a moment’s pause, her racing pulse leveled.

It was a small, leather-bound notebook, no more than 5 inches in width, 6 in height. The book was about 100 pages thick, covered in both her mother’s and her own scrawled hand across the pages, alternating between different colors of ink.

A fairy-tale told to her by her mother in her youth.


A five-year-old Brianna Randall sits upright in bed, excitedly gripping the edges of her quilt as she waits for her mother to return home. At this point, they had their schedule down to a science: Claire would walk in the door, go straight to the eagerly-awaiting Brianna, and she would recount to her daughter the adventures told the night before.

Tonight, however, was different. Daddy had come home from the University with a beautiful leather-bound, handheld notebook. “Fill it with whatever your heart desires, little beauty,” he had said, and she took it to heart. She would fill it up, cover to cover, with her favorite story of all time.

Her heart began to race in excitement as she heard her mother’s voice coming from downstairs, the beats getting more frantic as she heard the footsteps getting closer and closer. When the door finally opened and the bright blue scrubs came into view, she jumped up and down in her bed.

“Mama, guess what I got from Daddy today!” She squealed, thrusting the notebook at her mother in excitement.

“Oh, Bree, how lovely!” She examined the book delicately before handing it back to her daughter. “What will you write in it?”

Bree giggled, “Silly Mama, our story!”

Instead of replying right away, she swallowed hard, turning herself away from her daughter and towards the window. Confused, Brianna ignored this strange behavior and went to her desk, pulling out a pen and holding it out to her mother. “Write, Mama?”

She cleared her throat once before turning back around, a smile forming on her lips. “Of course, love. Now, where did we leave off?”

“No, we have to start over!”

Smiling, Claire took the pen from her daughter’s tiny hand and balanced the book on her knee, starting to write. While she wrote, she had Bree read the words out loud to her.

Once upon a time, in a far away land, there lived a King and his fair Queen. The pair loved each other very much, and to prove that their love was eternal, the King took his wife away from the business of castle life to a remote village in the mountains. 

While there, they visited their subjects and attended to their duties, as Kings and Queens do, but one day, the Queen was separated from her King and fell through a portal to another world. Frightened and alone, the Queen ran for miles and miles to find her King, but couldn’t find her way back. Getting lost in the ever-thickening wood as she ran, she encountered the most fearsome dragon in all of the Worlds. Fortunately, however, she was rescued by a knight in shining silver armor and taken away to safety.

On the way to the castle, the Queen’s escort introduced himself as Sir James the Red, Knight of Lallybroch. The Queen introduced herself only as Christine, in fear that someone would recognize her.

For many months the Queen took refuge in the new castle, Leoch, becoming a guest of it’s King and making many friends among the subjects. One day, after a great Gathering was held, the Grand Duke requested she be present on a hunt, to which she agreed. While on the hunt, she became very close to Sir James, who promised to protect her from anything and everything she could encounter on the journey.

And as Sir James predicted, Christine came face-to-face with the monstrous dragon once more. With his fiery breath, he burned her repeatedly. But ever so true to his word, her Knight came to save her and, in order to protect her, offered his hand to her, which she accepted. The two of them became extremely close while continuing the hunt. She missed her King dearly, but was starting to accept her life with her red Knight in shining armor. 

Eventually, the Knight found out about her travels through time, and offered to take her back home. They traveled on horseback for days while the Queen figured out what her heart truly wanted. Her duty was to her King, but how could she leave her Knight, a man that she had grown to love more than life itself?

It all came down to a single choice. Sir James took her to the portal, where she had to make her final decision. Who did she want to be: Christine the Queen, or Christine, the Knight’s wife?

In the end, she chose Sir James. The pair went back to his home, to begin their happily ever after. That is, until the creature returned, this time to take him for retribution, and it was up to Lady Christine to be her Knight’s savior.

With the help of Sir James’ fellow knights, and a few cows, Lady Christine was able to save her knight in shining–

“Mama,” Bree, now an inquisitive eight-year-old, interrupted, looking at her mother in confusion. “What did the cows do?”

Claire laughed, caught off-guard by her question. “Well, Sir Marcus decided that it would be the easiest way to get Sir James out of the dragon’s keep, without drawing too much attention.”

Bree’s eyebrows creased together and her lips pursed outward. “But… wouldn’t a large group of cows draw attention to them, anyway?”

“Do you want me to continue or not?”

She nodded eagerly, leaning away from the headboard. 

Lady Christine was able to save her knight in shining armor, and together they traveled away to a distant land full of delectable foods, beautiful dresses, large parties, and lots of intrigue. But Sir James’ experiences with the monster left him scarred, emotionally and physically. She tried her best to help him, but nothing she did soothed his suffering. Eventually, their marriage began to crumble, and she feared she would lose her husband.

One night, she talked to him about it. He told her all of his heart, as one should in a marriage, and the patches seemed to be healed. However, when the evil creature returned for his just desserts, Sir James vowed that he would be the one to slay it. Afraid for her husband’s life, as well as the dragon’s, she begged him to leave it be. His grudge, however, would haunt him forever as he attempted to slay the beast, eventually doing so with all three of them seriously injured. Lady Claire saved Sir James once more, and, after losing their faith, the pair moved back to their country to be with their family. Fate, however, would not be on their side.

A war was rapidly approaching, and as much as they tried to stop it from coming, Sir James and Lady Christine were faced with no other choice. Pregnant with his child, he sent them back to her own time, where they could be safe in the protection of the King. 

“She never goes back to him?” Thirteen-year-old Bree inquires of her mother with her elbows on her knees and her hands resting beneath her chin.

Claire pauses, swallowing an invisible lump in her throat. “No, she doesn’t.”

“Why not? If she truly loves him, wouldn’t she want to be with him forever?”

“Of course she would.” She smiled softly, wrapping her arms around Bree’s shoulders. Leaning her head on top of her daughter’s, she asked, “Do you remember the battle, the one that they were all preparing for at the end of the story?”

Bree nodded, urging her to continue.

“Well, before they parted, Sir James promised m–Christine–” She cleared her throat. “He told Lady Christine that he would die on the battlefield, defending his country. And she took his word for it.”

“So, she didn’t even try to find him? Not even for the chance that they could be together again?”

Tears formed in Claire’s eyes, but Bree couldn’t see them. Instead of replying, she finished the story.

Lady Christine returned to her time and resumed her position as Queen. She was reunited with her King, and he promised that they would raise Sir James’ child together, as their own.

A few months later, a princess was born, and they named her Ellen, after Sir James’ mother. And together, the three of them lived a happy life, the child unaware of her true parentage.

Every once in awhile, however, the Queen would see her daughter’s red hair catch the light, and she would see her husband. Her red Knight. 

Her one and only love.

The End

ab-normality  asked:

I love your writing! I hope you start to feel better soon. How about a CS as doctors au?

I hope by doctors, you were looking for smutty doctors, because that’s what happened… #sorrynotsorry 

-x-

Emma leans her head back against the door of the on call room, exhaustion dragging at every last muscle in her body. She’s been on her feet for close to twenty hours, and she probably should go home, but she’s too exhausted to contemplate the drive. A quick nap in the on call room should set her straight, and then she can safely get herself home.

She doesn’t bother turning on a light, shuffling over to her usual bunk. With the pileup on the freeway, everyone is either in the ER or an OR, which is where she would be if she hadn’t been kicked out for being there too long.

Except when she drops down on the mattress, the bunk isn’t empty.

“What’re you doing here?” she snaps after grabbing her phone and turning on the screen, the weary face of Killian Jones, most arrogant of surgeons, staring back at her. “Aren’t you supposed to be in OR 3?”

“Finished twenty minutes ago,” he mumbles, twisting until he’s on his back and blinking blearily at her. “Nasty bit of work, that wreck.” His accent is thicker when he’s this tired, and between that and his grogginess robbing him of his usual obnoxious swagger, the subtle attraction Emma has always ignored – he’s a jerk – flares to life. “They still coming in?”

“No, we’ve got them all,” Emma confirms, and it’s then that she realizes she’s still sitting on the edge of the bunk. “I, uh, I’ll just…go over there.”

“You don’t have to.”

If he had said it like he usually spoke to her, innuendo dripping from every syllable, Emma just might have slapped him – but he doesn’t. It’s the offer of a port in the storm, the shared horror of a really bad day, a day where they’ve lost some and saved some, and others yet that are still waiting their turn. A wave of helplessness crashes over her, and it might be against her better judgement, but Emma lays down next to the cocky surgeon and lets her breath out slowly.

He curls around her almost instantly, a mumbled question against her throat seeking permission before he wraps his arm around her waist at her nod. Maybe Emma isn’t the only one who’s felt it today, and she didn’t ask, but she’s beginning to wonder if what he meant by finished twenty minutes ago is I lost a patient.

She lost two. It’s all she sees when she closes her eyes.

So Emma decides not to close her eyes just yet, turning in his arms and meeting his brow raised in question with a soft, “I don’t want to think right now.”

“Are you asking me to assist you with that?”

She kisses him in response, a needy, hungry kiss that’s more teeth and tongue than lips. Their scrubs are thin, and it doesn’t take much to feel him stir to life against her hip. It’s exactly what she wants, the weight of him as he rolls her onto her back, the way his hips fit between her thighs, the scratch of his stubble across her throat.

Emma shimmies out of her scrubs, clumsy in her eagerness, but Killian is right there with her, and they probably shouldn’t be doing this here – the door isn’t locked, and anyone could walk in. But she doesn’t care, because she still closes her eyes and sees terrible things, so she threads her fingers through Killian’s hair and yanks his mouth back to hers, determined to erase the image burned into her mind.

He growls against her mouth, kissing her back just as fiercely, his hips pressing into hers as he moves against her. It should be embarrassing how desperate she is for him, and he has to feel the slick heat between her legs, and there’s a good chance she’s going to need to avoid him for a few weeks, but it’s worth it as she reaches between them, guiding him forward. Her breath hisses through her teeth, pleasure mixing with the faint burn of her body accommodating his, unfamiliar but exactly what she wants in that moment.

His curse is low and filthy, his breaths harsh against her ear as they move together, a tangle of limbs on the narrow bunk. Killian nips at her shoulder, his hands roaming her body with all the precision of the surgeon he is, leaving a devastating trail of pleasure in his wake. Emma arches into him, pressing her hands against the wall above her head for leverage and wrapping one of her legs around his hips.

The angle shifts and he’s right there and her breaths grow more and more shallow, panting gasps mingled with groans of pleasure. He’s the only thing in her world in that moment, the flash of desire in his eyes, the way his fingers glide over her skin, rough against her nipple, gentle against the curve of her waist, and everything narrows down to chasing after the exquisite pleasure of him between her legs.

And then she’s there, her eyes snapping shut and her teeth sinking into her lip to contain herself, pleasure exploding behind her eyelids. Killian slows down, his thrusts deeper and slower as she rides it out, but he grins when she finally opens her eyes. “Not through with you yet, love.” His voice is low, a wicked promise behind every word. “I intend for you to forget your own name by the time we’re done.”

Emma squeezes her thighs around his hips, momentarily trapping him buried deep, the aftershocks still running through her. “You’re good,” she admits with a saucy smirk, but before he can preen, she adds, “But not that good.”

“Challenge accepted, darling.”

Slave to Pleasure

In a reserved community shadowed by a large towering manor across a barren lake there’s whispers, tales and myths that tell a story of vampires that live past the lake in that very same uncharted castle. That they sweep by the village looking for prey and whores.


Unbeknownst to many those tales are true.Nine vampires inhabit that castle and have done so for centuries. They feed off blood wantonly killing as they please and fucking whomever they want whenever they want. They live in grand luxury.


Byun Baekhyun has suffered, has fought for the life he lives today and it has cost him greatly. He drowns himself in blood of men and women and sex of the whores he buys and kills from the brothel one of his brothers owned. His latest investment however he can’t seem to let go of. 


Angsty fic certainly not for the faint of heart, full of dangerous smut and with a sprinkle of romance. 

Contents

~Character Profiles~

Introduction
1. The first night*
2. Survive
3. Caged*
4. Obedience Training*
5. Stirring Emotions*
6. Monster in the Flames
7. Plan*
8. Battered and Broken
9. Earned It
10. Good Girl*
11. Nothing Hurts
12. Babygirl*
13. Emptiness*
14. Ownership*
15. Heartless
16. His Past
17. Red silk*
18. Slipping Control
19. Familiar Faces
20. The Prisoner
21. Panic Room
22. West Wing
23. Crimson Wave
24. Bloodied and Defeated. 
25. North
26. Focus*
27. Look Before you Leap
28. Bursting Fire

Spin off chapter; Mysterious Guests, ft. Luhan*
Spin off chapter; Fast, ft Minseok


[In progress]

Pick your battles. Is this the hill you want to die on? Because I can arrange that.
Flash Point by DeGlace, a Deidara x Ino story

Stunning art by @pablob-

abemiha; an unplanned late afternoon nap.

Abe’s fallen asleep.

It’s a rare sight, even though practice has been running them ragged and more than once they’d had to shuffle a drowsy Nishihiro out of the dugouts, but Abe takes his role as the Responsible one pretty seriously. He’s always just one step behind Hanai at scolding everyone dragging their feet cleaning up, reminding the team to get some proper rest at home. Today, however, Ren finds his catcher leaning against the wall of the clubroom, eyes closed and breathing gentle.

Nervously, Ren glances around, but everyone has already left for home. He usually walks with Sakaeguchi and Tajima, but Sakaeguchi is out sick and Tajima had to leave early because of family matters. He thinks he probably shouldn’t leave Abe here, dreaming and vulnerable for once. It’s quiet in the clubroom, the sound of cicadas chirping outside filtering in through the half-open window like the fading Saturday sunlight. Ren sits down carefully next to Abe, folding his legs up and studying his catcher with wide eyes. 

In sleep, Abe looks younger, softer. His perpetually furrowed brow is loosened, mouth slack and eyelashes casting shadow on his cheeks. He isn’t yelling or glaring across the field to the pitcher’s mound, but Ren thinks Abe is scary like this, just the same. Without thinking, Ren has a hand hovering between them, a strange urge to touch his partner’s face.

A sudden rumbling sound causes Ren to flinch back. He blinks rapidly, fingers clutched against his chest, but it’s just Abe, lightly snoring. Abe must have been really tired.

Ren sighs to himself. He shuffles until his back touches the wall, and counts the gentle, steady breaths the boy next to him takes. His eyes close. Slowly, with a peaceful smile just barely touching his lips, Ren follows Abe into sleep.

Dating Clay Jensen Includes...

MASTERLIST

Warning: profanity

Request: here

Note: yup im doing another imagine i have a day off tom so imma try to do most(if not all) requests tomorrow??


  • Thinking he was hot
  • Yeah not cute
  • Not adorable
  • Just straight up hot

“Um hi you’re hot”

“Hi-um what?”

  • geekING OUT TOGETHER BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT GEEKS DO
  • Bffs with jeff he’s your main man

“Jeff i love you bud.”

“I LOVE YOU TOO Y/N.”

  • Clay just like ??? help ? me? Please ??
  • Clay helping you out a lot after jeff passes
  • Jeff was your best friend
  • Brother even
  • You’ve known him your whole life, you can’t just lose someone that fast
  • Uncontrollable sobbing on her shoulder
  • Falling asleep on him
  • Having a weird habit of slow dancing with him after dates and you just fall asleep on his shoulder the GUY IS A TEDDY BEAR DONT JUDGE
  • Hugs cuddles dis guy don’t have blankets so he just call you

“Cuddles?”

“Heck no we cuddled 5 minutes ago, get a blanket son.”

“We could make a son ;)”

“Who took my clay.”

  • OPEN ABOUT EVERYTHING

“I don’t like your shirt.”

“I don’t care. I LOVE IT.”

  • I said open not agreeable…
  • Play fights 24/7
  • Clay’s actually not innocent he reads smut fics ab doing the do with your crush O.O
  • Jkjk well we don’t know for sure
  • TROYE SIVAN IS BABE BITCHES

“I want to marry him.”

“I want to marry you.”

“What.”

“What.”

After the formal (in wHICH YOU ASKED HIM #BREAKING DA STEREOTYPES) you just go over to his house and his dad just yells, “use protection.” insert mother and father arguing ab dis.

You both r v dedicated in the relationship and sometimes care too much about the other,

But since when is caring too much a bad thing?

“YOU’RE GONNA LOOK UGLY IN THAT SHIRT!”

“YOU’RE RIGHT THANKS BABE!”

  • Yet,,,, Clay buys the shirt anyway?? Like you were saving him from embarrassment for at least 15 years.

“You loved her?”

“I love you.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“Please just trust me.”

“I’m so sorry Clay. I need-I need time.”

You love each other dearlyyyyy

Get married

4 kids

1 son just like he wanted ;)

Naming one daughter’s middle name Hannah, just so you won’t have to tear up too often but she lives in your heart


For @percieux who needs cheering up ^.^ for you mija


Cassian was bummed out about something - something he wouldn’t talk about - but Jyn was determined to 1) find out what and 2) cheer him up.

Whichever came first.

It was dinner, and he was picking at his food in a small corner table.

Jyn plunked her tray down in front of him and stared at him until he looked up.

“What?” He asked, a bemused look on his face.

“You’re upset about something. I’m going to cheer you up.”

Cassian took a bite, chewed, swallowed, and looked at her.

“Really now?”

Jyn nodded.

“Yep.”

Something like a smirk crossed his face.

“Really.”

“Uh-huh.”

Cassian shook his head, but couldn’t fight the small smile.

Jyn grinned triumphantly.

“See, it’s already working.”

Cassian huffed, but good-naturedly.

“Now will you tell me what’s wrong?”

Cassian shrugged.

“I’m not supposed to tell you. But I’ll be leaving soon. Tomorrow. I just thought - you know, you just got back too, and maybe - well, I thought I was a miracle you and I were on base at the same time.”

He shrugged again and returned to his food.

Jyn’s smile had faded, but then she perked up again, and nudged his foot with hers.

“You know… if you were too tired and wanted to go to bed early, nobody would think it weird,” she said, a suggestive little smirk on her face.

Cassian shook his head again - he did that a lot around her - but grinned.

“I guess you’re right. And you’ve had a long day, too, so nobody would think it odd you followed.”

Jyn grinned at him, feral.

“Then what are we waiting for, Captain?”

anonymous asked:

46.1%!!!! fic ab Alec almost getting killed by Valentine in the fight next ep but Magnus saving him (lots of fluff after?)

“Alec? Alec!”

Magnus was nearly out of the building when he heard it. He had Madzie in tow and he was trying to be careful, trying to find somewhere safe to create a portal so he could get the young warlock girl out of this hellhole and somewhere safe, where she won’t be used or manipulated for her powers again. She was young. She’d bounce back. But it made his blood boil that Valentine, the man determined to wipe them out, was still happy to use Downworlders for his own ends even if he was planning on killing their species later.

Before he could create the portal, though, he heard a voice from the rooftop. Isabelle’s voice. He wasn’t sure she’d be here, still too high on a terrible concoction of Yin Fen and vampire venom to see clearly. Raphael, too, high on Shadowhunter blood. He’d kill Victor Aldertree for getting people he cared about wrapped up in this mess. But that had to come later.

Instead, he ran upstairs, Madzie following, and onto the rooftop. The scene he saw turned his stomach.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Today in class I heard a girl say "I have abs derick, when I take my shirt off men get threatened and girls turned on" and I swear if this is not a maggie sawyer line !!!!! I wish I knew the context of this but it's still gold 😂😂😂

“Damn James, could you put those away?”

“James, here, your shirt is riding up, stuck to your sweater, it – I – “

“Oh, sorry. Thanks Kara. Sorry Winn – didn’t mean to flash you there.”

“I mean, with those abs? The only thing you have to apologize for is making me feel terrible about my life.”

“Oh no, Winn, you’re so handsome!”

“Yeah yeah, and you’re just super nice, Kara.”

“Eh, I don’t know.”

“Maggie, that’s not nice!”

“No no, I mean, Winn, you’re all handsome and Kara, you’re super nice, but that’s not what I meant. I just like – I mean, James’s abs are great. But mine are better.”

“Seriously, Sawyer? You wanna challenge me to an ab contest?”

“Yeah I’m serious! I have abs, Olsen! When I take my shirt off men get threatened and girls turned on.”

“I can attest to that.”

“Ew, Alex, I don’t need to hear these things – ”

“Sorry, I mean, it’s true. Have you seen her shirtless?”

“What, no, Alex, I haven’t seen your girlfriend shirtless!”

“Your loss.”

“Well now we’re all curious.”

“Winn, you’re not helping!”

“Yeah, he is. Alright Sawyer, bring it. Strip.”

“Hey! Only I’m allowed to tell her to strip.”

Alex!”

“Damn Sawyer!”

“Oh my god you’re so hot babe.”

“Aw, thanks Al! Give up Olsen?”

“Hanging leg raise contest?”

“Let’s go.”

“J’onn! Uh… hi.”

“What the hell are you all… you know what? I don’t want to know. I don’t want to ever know.”

abemiha; college fic bc finals season is upon us, fluff without excuse

Mihashi sets down a steaming mug of tea on the table, and Takaya hums an absentminded thanks. In moments, he’s lost again in the sea of words on his laptop, working through his essay slowly. The lines blur into each other occasionally, and he rubs his eyes to try and clear them.

Something warm burrows into his back, and he blinks over his shoulder. “Mihashi? What are you doing?”

Large hazel eyes stare up at him. “A-Abe-kun! Looks… a b-bit chilly—and tired. So, um. I thought? I thought m-maybe I could… stay… beside…” Mihashi glances away, cheeks turning a healthy shade of rose. He doesn’t move from his position next to Takaya though.

His brain is too tired from working on his assignment so many hours in a row. By the time Mihashi’s words make it through his head, said boy is already shuffling about, looking embarrassed. Something loosens in Takaya’s chest, and he lets out a sigh. This boy. Even now, years after their initial meeting on that shabby pitcher’s mound Takaya dug with his own hands, this nervous, earnest, beautiful disaster of a boy still manages to take Takaya by surprise. 

“Abe-kun?”

Takaya shuts his laptop, turning around enough to reach up a hand and ruffle Mihashi’s hair. Mihashi’s eyes squeeze shut as he dips his head to allow Takaya’s touch. A fond smile finds its way onto Takaya’s face.

“Thanks, Mihashi.”

At his words, Mihashi’s face brightens into that familiar, sunny smile, and Takaya doesn’t hold back his urge to pinch those soft, soft cheeks until Mihashi is squirming and giggling in his hands. 

Ok Listen

There has been a significant amount of drama in this, the most peaceful of fandoms, recently, which has consisted almost entirely of people responding to Thomas being ace-inclusive by accusing him of encouraging minors to create sexually explicit art. While this has already been shown to be not true, I think a lot of people need to take a reality check right now.

I have been on this trash fire of a website since 2012 when I was 14, I am now 20. In that time, I have come across more smutty fan art and fanfic than you can comfortably imagine, and let me tell you a thing.

The overwhelming majority of fanfic/art, whether pornographic or not, is produced by people ages 14-18. That smutty Stony fanfic you read 2 months ago?
Probably written by a 15 year old girl.

That animatic gif of Clexa making out?

The person that made that was 17.

That very explicit art of Thomas sanders ass?

That was also someone under 18.

What I’m trying to say is, you have all 100% encountered if not actively consuming nsfw (or at least a bit explicit) fanfic and art created by minors, and you do not see anyone coming for your reputation over it.
He has already stated, both before and after the age of the artist was brought to his attention, that he only encourages nsfw fan art creation when it is by people of legal age. He also apologized and removed the post immediately upon finding out the age of the artist.
So please, chill out, unless of course you would like for people to scroll back your blog and politely inform you that you have ab 236 reblogged fics and art that prove you are a hypocrite.

While I do not purposefully encourage or consume nsfw art/fics made by minors, as someone who used to be one of those minors I would like to just let everyone know that these teens don’t need any encouragement, they just do it because they want to, and while Thomas is not actually encouraging it, the rest of the fandom is.

anonymous asked:

I was reading this fic ab phil being a call boy and they fell in love it won fanfic of the year award the author moved to a different URL do you know where I can access it?

Let Me Be Your Call Boy - After coming out as gay to his friends on his birthday, the last thing Dan is expecting is to be gifted a call boy as a present, let alone one that’s been paid for for the entire night. Allowing Phil to show him the ropes is his first mistake, paying him to come back every week is his second, and using him to convince his parents he really is gay is his third. As a successful lawyer, the money isn’t the problem - falling in love is.  

-Rachel

Daddy’s Little Angel

“I’m not adorable—I’m manly as hell.”

Featuring: Baekhyun, You

Warnings: light swearing, usage of “Daddy” (nonsexual)

Written by: Admin V

Ah, that’s my good girl!”

You chewed happily on the piece of meat that Baekhyun had fed you, smiling. It was dinner time—one of your most favorite times to spend with the love of your life. The day was over. It was time to rest.

Propping your elbows onto the dining table, you swallowed, then frowned. Baekhyun sat across from you, his white t-shirt hanging off of his frame.

“Is something bothering you, baby?” he asked. He set his chopsticks down, looked up at you. Cocked his head to the side, those brown eyes so deep and caring, the way that they always were.

You licked your lips, tasting the leftover spice from the beef. “Daddy, do you not like the food I made for you? Is it bad?”

“What, no! Of course not, baby,” he immediately soothed, shocked that you would ever ask him that. Reaching across the table, he smoothed a flyaway from your hair. “Daddy would never do such a thing.”

Keep reading

Mihashi’s skin is soft.

That’s the only thought going through Takaya’s head right now, and it’s not exactly helping the rapid beating of his heart. It’s after dinner, the rest of the team inside playing cards or reading manga or doing whatever it is that high school boys do in their free time at training camp, but here he is, sitting under the stars with one nervous pitcher. 

Mihashi has been quiet all day, which is usually a warning sign that he’s thinking something ridiculous again, but his pitching was fine, and he answered to Tajima’s yelling with as much stuttering enthusiasm as he always does. Takaya assumes this means he’s fine, but he doesn’t miss the way the pitcher would zone out in the middle of a conversation.

So here they are, sitting on the bench outside the cottage, with the intention of cooling down and, in Takaya’s case, figuring out just what the heck is bothering his ace. But somewhere in the middle of their slow process of communication, he was distracted by an eyelash, so, naturally, thoughtlessly, he leaned in, and now he’s hovering in front of Mihashi’s pink face with his hand on the other boy’s cheek.

Mihashi’s skin is soft. His nose is slightly sunburned, but other than that, his skin remains pale and easily flushed. His face glows healthily from the physical exertion the camp demands of him, and after the bath they took after practice it’s like touching a newborn baby’s skin; smooth, warm, and so incredibly soft. Takaya knows from experience that Mihashi’s hands are the opposite; they look soft, fragile, but in reality they are rough and calloused from years and years of stubbornness and hard work. So when Takaya’s fingers made contact with Mihashi’s cheek, he freezes from the unexpectedness of it all.

“A-A-Abe-kun?”

This close, Takaya can see the smattering of freckles that spreads across Mihashi’s pale skin. He finds himself comparing them to the map of stars above them, and instantly feels himself turn as red as the boy in front of him. Mihashi’s eyes glint gold in the moonlight.

“Eyelash,” he manages to say, pulling his hand back to show Mihashi the evidence on his fingertip.

“Oh,” Mihashi squeaks, blinking owlishly at his finger. He glances up and meets Takaya’s eyes, once, and then back at the eyelash. He leans forwards, and before Takaya can register the movement, he blows the eyelash away. Mihashi gives Takaya a shaky, sheepish smile. “A w-wish, right?”

It takes Takaya a few seconds to find his voice. When he does, it’s gruff, barely concealing the sudden embarrassment and strange… nervousness he’s feeling. His heart is pounding very fast; he wonders if he’s coming down with a fever. 

“Right. I, ah. I hope your wish comes true.”

Mihashi’s smile is suddenly too blinding for the night. Takaya can’t find it within himself to look away. “Me, too, Abe-kun!”