#tinker bae

[consideredahazard]

If Mitsuki had Orochimaru's hair quality, long and straight, he would have looked surprisingly a lot like Dan...

Oro definitely has a thing for light haired people. Jiraiya, Tsuna, Kabuto, Sakumo and now Dan... Log/Rogu, Mitsuki, even Suigetsu...

[oneandahalfwolf]

BENKAI’L & ILEYRA; FAIRYTALE ACADEMY AU

“Once upon a time...” In a world where fairytales are real and retold through the generations, a pair of new students to the prestigious 'STORYTELLING ACADEMY FOR FAIRYTALE CREATURES' fit far too many boxes to be properly sorted - much to the teachers chagrin.

@oneandahalfwolf & @bloodsorceress.

[lambilegs]

I adore your best friend's older sister! Sevika headcanons, literally been rereading since last night 😫

I had a thought, a little crumb, a little ✨food for thought ✨, but what about Best friend's older sister! Sevika getting jealous. Maybe they aren't together yet and she spots reader getting a lil too cozy with another friend. Or maybe they are together and Sevika is not liking the way reader's coworker is gettin a lil too comfy 👀😤

I've truly thought about this too often lol, sorry for the rambles ♡

best friend's older sister!sevika getting jealous <3

note to anon: BAE DON'T APOLOGIZE THIS IDEA IS SOOOO <33 and omg thank you so so much!! I'm so happy you like it hehe. so, I decided to expand upon the first idea you gave because it's so so good, though I LOVE both. like, thank you so much for sending these thoughts AHHH <33

so, I totally agree with you that best friend's older sister!sevika would definitely be possessive. it's only worsened pre-confession because you're not hers yet, so she doesn't feel like she has much of a right to do anything about it. at least if you guys were together, she could wrap her arm around your waist or kiss your head, something silent to signify to others that you're hers.

but, as much as you two have teased and been pushing and pulling these past few months, that's all it's been. push, pull, push, pull. no confession, no asking out, no dates. and, listen, sevika doesn't mind the long game necessarily -- she knew from the get go that if she was gonna be pursuing you, it'd have to be serious. she wasn't about to get into some vague, unidentified shit with her sister's best friend. not only would her sister kill her for that, but it's not even what she's interested in in the first place. it's easy to talk to you, to trust you. it's easy to want something longterm with you. but, longterm means she needs to put in the work of trusting you. and for her, that takes a while. so, she doesn't mind the long game.

what she does mind, though, is that taking things slow means that in this whole getting-to-know-you phase, she doesn't know exactly where your head is at. if you want something serious, if you're ready for a relationship. she knows she should be asking you these questions, but as much as she hates to admit it, it makes her uncomfortable to think of being so honest about these feelings of hers. and what being honest could potentially lead to, like a pierce into your guys' relationship, whatever the hell it is.

but, goddammit, is it fucking hard to not grab you, drag you to her room and show you exactly how she feels when you're on the living room couch, canoodling up to one of the girls in yours and her sister's friend group. she knows how it is for you guys. no boundaries, endless amounts of teasing, flirting, nasty jokes. but, that doesn't make it any easier to see you nuzzling your head into one of their shoulders, the two of you swapping and laughing hysterically over suggestive comments about leaving the room to do some "private activities."

sevika grits her teeth from where she can hear the conversation, gripping the handle to the fridge hard. she sucks in a sharp breath, shakes her head, and grabs her bottle of water from the side shelf. shutting it close quietly, she makes her way to her bedroom, sock-clad feet heavy against the wood.

when she walks past your group, practically cuddled in the living room, she nods quietly at the group of you guys, feeling her shoulders tense up when you and her make eye contact. your head darts off your friend's shoulder, and she nearly snickers. you really aren't subtle when it comes to paying her attention. and today, she doesn't feel like returning it, her stomach clenched in anger over the unabashed flirting she just overheard.

she's in the middle of tinkering at her desk, tweaking some annoying shit that keeps making a scraping noise every few hours, when a knock comes to her room.

"yeah?" she mutters, trying not to throw the screwdriver right at the wall.

when you poke your head in, she glances at your momentarily before continuing her work. she hates how her stomach flips at your arrival, how she suddenly feels clumsy with the tools under your gaze.

"what?"

you start from where you lean on her doorframe. "I just, um, wanted to check if we're good?"

"just peachy," she huffs out, dragging her wrist past her brow, which is sticky with sweat. "why?"

"well, um..." you trail off, shifting on your feet. "you usually smile or say hi now, and right now, you didn't."

she feels a flash of irrational annoyance. she doesn't like the fact that you can read her so easily, as though you have her constantly under a microscope. she doesn't wanna have to deal with her jealousy, her feelings, but you cornering and confronting her like this doesn't make that easy.

"I'm fine."

she blinks hard at the gears when her bedroom door softly clicks shut.

"no, you're not. sevika, come on, what's wrong?" you trot over to her desk, standing right next to her, shoving your presence into her space. "tell me."

she sighs, her body stiff with embarrassment and irritation at your stubbornness. god, things would be so much easier if you weren't so damn feisty, always snapping back at her. but, at the same time, though she'd never tell you, she can't help but like your persistence.

"do you have to be so damn flirty with all your friends?" she bites, immediately regretting the words as soon as they shoot out. so much for subtlety.

your head jerks back. "that's why you're upset? sevika, I've always flirted with them, you know that. I'm sure you've seen your fair share of it for years now."

"yeah, well, now, it's different." she keeps her eyes locked onto the desk, and when she realizes just how thinly veiled the implication of her words are, she rushes to add, "now, I think it's risky shit. you know, someone could get the wrong idea."

you scoff. "it's been like this for years. no one will get the wrong idea."

she rolls her eyes, grumbling incoherent words. she knows you're right. she's made her own fair share of jokes like that with her buddies, even the ones she wouldn't be caught dead with in any lifetime. and you're right, your little gang has always been like this. but, none of that helps to dampen the burning irritation that grows in her stomach when she sees you being so touchy with someone who isn't her. with someone who may think they have a chance with you, no matter how slim. she doesn't want you to have options, she wants to be the only one you see in that way.

"and I don't want you to get the wrong idea, either."

she freezes at the words, her hand stilling.

you inch in closer and your warm palm rests on her shoulder. she feels something stir inside her at the touch, wishing you'd slide the rest of your hand down her arm. you guys have touched briefly, sure, but it's usually fleeting, teasing. this, though? this is tender, and -- it's intimate. you're trying to reassure her, she can tell. she knows it's a nice thing to do, but a part of her cringes at the fact that her feelings were so badly concealed that you even needed to comfort her at all. she should be better than this.

"I don't see anyone in my group like that, okay?" you pause, and the silence between you two thickens. right before it becomes suffocating to the point of sevika forcing herself to respond, you add, your voice quiet and shaky, "trust me, it's not my friends whose attention I want like that. just one other person... who's close by."

her nostrils flare, her breaths feeling tighter than before. are you saying what she thinks you are?

"okay," she manages to get out.

"okay." your hand slips from her shoulder, and she feels the cold of your absence as you turn to leave. without thinking, her hand flies up, catching yours.

your head whips to her in surprise, eyes wide and curious.

she thumbs at your pulse point, some of her confidence regaining through feeling how it spikes. but, still, there's an undercurrent of discomfort, so she tries to steady her voice before saying, "you know, I have a pretty good shoulder too."

you laugh, ducking your head down. sevika tries not to pull you in closer, coax you to look at her when she talks. "yes, I'm sure you do," you respond, a sarcastic lilt to your voice.

"well, obviously. you're always checking me out when I work out."

you splutter, eyebrows scrunched indignantly. "well, that's because you insist on working out in front of us always! for all I know, maybe you're the one who's into someone in our group."

your voice is mocking, but sevika hears the tremors of it towards the end. are you nervous that she maybe is into someone else but you? or are you hopeful it's you?

you gave her a bit of assurance, so she might as well return the favour.

"maybe there is someone I'm trying to impress. someone who'd maybe notice that more if they weren't always shoving their face in other people's chests."

she can see how your eyes bulge at the semi-confession, your palm slick with sweat in her hand. your mouth flaps open for a few seconds, before shakily saying, "well, you did offer yourself up as a substitute."

her cheeks ache with how hard she's trying not to grin too widely. "don't get too excited."

you wring your hand from her grip, smiling coyly as you reach for her doorknob. "I'll try to contain myself."

[instant-delusions]

heyyy melina, uau youre have such a pretty name :)

can you write me a fluffy one shot about how soft is wake up next to Leo? see the light leaking through the curtain, feel the heat that naturally emanates from him and how It's satisfying to see his face when he's just woken up

ty bae 🐭

OMG I love this req sm !! 😭 AND THANK U FOR COMPLIMENTING MY NAME !! AHHH!! also I hit 200 followers. I love u guys, thank u ♡

.𖥔 ݁ ˖꩜

ʟᴏᴠᴇ ɢᴀʟᴏʀᴇ (ʟᴇᴏ ᴠᴀʟᴅᴇᴢ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

cw: established relationship, pure fluff

a/n: enjoy my leo brainrot ♡

𖦹⋆｡˚⋆ฺ

it's november, autumn melted into winter - the days were shorter, leaves in reddish color decorate the streets, and people snuggled into their scarves to escape the cold. the demigods in camp half blood walked around with cups filled with hot chocolate or steaming coffee.

it was an extraordinarily quiet evening. most of the campers left to celebrate thanksgiving with their families, which left you and leo alone in hephaestus cabin. your boyfriend was hunched over a box, trying to find the beamer he tinkered not too long ago, "I swear to gods, I'll cry if we can't watch adventure time today-" you giggled and stood up to help him.

you watched adventure time all night long, laughing and sobbing, relating to the emotions and happenings riddled throughout the show - until you fell asleep. leos arm was squeezed around your waist, and your legs were tangled together. with your face snuggled in the space between his neck and shoulder, you heaved in a deep breath until your lungs were filled with him only. your insides were painted with sunshine and orange blossoms.

once the morning trickled inside the room and your lids flickered, slowly waking up, you caught a glance of your lover in front of you. a feeling mixed between giddy butterflies and absolute peace filled you, and completely unaware, your hand lifted to his hair, brushing through the soft locks. silently, you studied his face lightened by the coldish sunlight through the window. there was a mole under his left eye and one under his lips, a scar on his eyebrow that you trailed with your finger. his skin was paler than in the summer, but his dark circles under his eyes were gone. another scar went from his jawline down his neck. you rested your arm over his shoulder, drawing circles on his upper back, thinking about all the mornings in the future that'll be just like this. a smile started to form on your face.

"I love you so much," you promised, knowing that, although he was sleeping, his soul said it back.

[daisybeewrites]

Agents of Shield as ✨DnD Archetypes✨

~Daisy~

Daisy! my baby love girl boss queen… is a sorcerer! She’s smart, she’s fun, she has magic powers from ancient dna in her blood! She’s deeply connected to the natural environment, and is friends with the smallest atoms. She’s cool and everyone knows it.

~Jemma~

Look at her. Look. At. Her. She is smol, she is lovely, she will fuck you up if needed! My girl is a wizard. Her strength may be a solid 10, but she’s got a +10 to all intelligence rolls. She has three PhDs in beating her enemy’s ass. Just imagine her in sparkly robes. Or cool jeans and a jean jacket. Jemma definitely cosplayed as Adaine at some point.

~Fitz~

Our resident nerd is an artificer. Obviously. I feel that I don’t even need to explain this but just in case… he’s a magic engineer. He likes tinkering. Has definitely accidently blown up multiple labs playing with magical items. Duh.

~Melinda~

ROGUE. Melinda May is a rogue. You think you can hear her coming? No. She has sneak attack. She has a 20 stealth and proficiency. My bae sees all. She is Mom, and we all know that nothing gets past Mama May.

~Phil~

This may be a hot take. But. Coulson is a bard! His first instinct is to use charisma before drawing weapons. He may not have many fans (in universe), but you have to admit that people tend to love him. He loves music, he loves jokes, and most of the time he’s more focused on helping out his team than playing the hero. He would be such a good bard!!

~Bobbi~

My lovely Bobbi. Bobbi Morse is a fighter. In every sense of the word. She’s strong outwardly and emotionally; she’s loyal, almost to a fault. She has strong ethos and sticks to her guns. Bobbi watches everyone’s back always, because she loves them. She is the very best fighter there is.

~Hunter~

I wrestled with calling him the clown and calling it a day, however…! I have made the executive decision that Hunter is a ranger. He is great at keeping his distance (derogatory) but c’mon, you can’t stay mad at him. He lays low and moves quickly. I also think it’s funny how caring he is and charismatic he tries to be and literally his strongest trait is dodging all the quips and pillows that are thrown at him. Dex baby! Hunter is (fittingly) a ranger!

~Daniel~

Daniel… my sweet Daniel. Mr. Sousa here is, I firmly believe, also a ranger. Idk. I’m between ranger or paladin, because I feel like yeah sure he’s the boy scout survival guy but at the same time I think he’s the stable, healer type. He has strong morals (square lol) and I feel like that translate well into both ranger and paladin :)

Should I make a part II? ☺️

[infiniteeight8]

Was listening to this song (Bae Bae) and then the lyrics was 'White shirt with no pants on' 'blood rushes to that one spot again' and this is Stephen when he everytime sees Tony tinkering with his suits. And he's sometimes embarrassed that he can't even resist that.

I’m assuming that the song lyrics are just for mood and the important idea here is Stephen being helplessly turned on watching Tony tinker with his suit, because I cannot make “white shirt with no pants on”!Tony and suit-tinkering!Tony fit into the same scenario. The man would not risk his dick to fragments of flying metal or sparks, he just wouldn’t. LOLOL.

-

Stephen always enjoys watching Tony when he’s tinkering in his workshop, but there is something special about watching him work on the suits. Maybe it’s seeing “Iron Man” and Tony Stark in the same place at the same time. Maybe it’s because working on the next generation of suit displays Tony’s genius in the way that a new program or a new device doesn’t. Maybe it’s the way that Tony is strangely tender with the suits. Not gentle—they’re made to take a beating, after all—but always filled with care, with an awareness of their importance.

Whatever the reason, watching Tony work on the armor always gets Stephen’s blood up. He’s tried telling himself that it’s nothing special, but it doesn’t work because he knows it’s a lie. The suit is special. And he’s tried exposure therapy, but he swears he’s getting aroused faster, not slower.

Today Stephen has been down in the workshop for all of ten minutes when the throb of his cock drives him off the couch. Stephen has, at least, managed to wait until Tony has set down his tools before wrapping himself around him from behind.

Tony laughs, leaning back into the embrace. “I think that’s a new record. The suit gets you that hot?”

Of course he’d noticed the pattern. “You get me that hot,” Stephen says, even though it’s not entirely true.

“Uh huh, sure,” Tony says, but instead of calling Stephen on it, he turns and pulls him into a kiss.

The teasing will come later, Stephen is sure, but for now he’s getting what he wants.

[seekingseven]

I’m too embarrassed to go off anon, but I still wanted to thank you for your jjk fics. Every update really brightens my day!I see that everyone already said how amazing Nanami is but I think you really nailed Gojo in Baby blue despite us barely seeing his pov. We get so much about him from other characters but it’s always filtered through their assumptions about him. I’m not sure where ch.10 is going, but I’m so fascinated on everyone’s reactions to his reaction of the change. Sorry for rambling on your page, but thank you so much❤️❤️❤️

Okay this is just so kind. Thank you so much! I'm so so so honored and glad to hear these words...I apologize again for the slow updates, I had finals, then spent the last few weeks traveling abroad, and I've got my MCAT in September 😭 lots going on but kind words like these motivate me to keep making time for things like writing so thank you SO much. I'm just so honored that the updates feel meaningful, I love love love writing Baby Blue and people like you are the reason why!

I'm very pleasantly surprised to see that you like Gojo's characterization in this fic LOL I honestly get so stressed out when it comes to characterization because Gojo is almost written like a gag character so it's kind of hard to figure out how he ticks. I'm very very very glad that he still has a presence in the story, even if it isn't a particularly physical one atm LOL

I'm very very VERY excited to share ch10 with you all! Ive been tinkering on it for a while and I like to think that it'll take the story in an unexpected direction so....we'll see!

Thank you once again for this lovely ask and bae dw feel free to ramble on my page or my dms or my comments or anywhere anytime, I'm really honored to have readers like you!! Thank you so much!! :'))

[sunriseverse]

✨seven sentence sunday✨

rules: post 7 sentences of an unfinished work

tagged by @killerandhealerqueen (thank you sass!)

Somewhere behind him, Cheng Qianli and Tan Zaozao are saying something, but Lin Qiushi has no mind to pay to them, only to Ruan Nanzhu. “Eat,” he murmurs, plucking up a lychee from the bowl and holding it out to Ruan Nanzhu. Ruan Nanzhu regards him unblinkingly. Lin Qiushi expects him to raise a hand, take to lychee, pale translucent flesh, between his own fingers, pop it into his mouth, but the thought of such exertion must be too much, because Ruan Nanzhu instead leans forward slightly and bites into the lychee. His lips close, for a moment, around Lin Qiushi’s fingers, and Lin Qiushi finds himself frozen, caught like an ant in amber, held beneath the supernova pull of Ruan Nanzhu’s attention, those mirror-dark eyes. His lips are soft as flower petals, lacking the chapped quality Lin Qiushi’s own so often take on in the cold, dry months, and he seems, for a moment, to linger there, the two of them connected by this touch. Lin Qiushi can feel his heartbeat in his throat, the blood thundering between his ears. And then Ruan Nanzhu draws back, the fruit disappearing behind his lips as he works it around his mouth, strips the seed of flesh, and spits it out into the bowl Lin Qiushi has managed, yet, not to drop. 

-- fun little nanqiu fic i'm tinkering with, as of yet untitled, alas.

tagging: @lunarriviera @xueyang @bae-science uhhhhh who else. @chirpybirdy and anyone else who wants to play!

[aesthetinet]

Breeding the Future with Biopunk

Hi, my beautiful net-baes! This is [bubblegumprincess] here writing once again, and I hope you’re as excited as me for this long-awaited final blog post!

My curiosity today sprouts from Biopunk—a genre that, like Solarpunk and Steampunk, is radical in its own way. It’s not just about neon petri dishes and DIY gene sequencers; at its core, Biopunk is a challenge to the biotech giants patenting life and the growing tension between corporate control of biotechnology such as CRISPR (a novel gene editing tool) and individual body autonomy. As Marcus Wohlsen says in Biopunk: DIY Scientists Hack the Software of Life, it’s “the punk spirit applied to biology—putting life into the hands of amateurs rather than boardrooms.”

More than its fluorescent lab aesthetic and gene-spliced creatures, Biopunk forces us to ask: What does it mean to be human when our cells can be rewritten? This genre explores our anxieties around ownership of life by taking us into underground biohacker spaces, where CRISPR kits replace the vague, commodified gene therapies of big pharma. Unlike clinical labs hidden behind glass doors, these DIY setups demand transparency, experimentation, and collective knowledge.

Biohacking bacteria to produce sustainable fabrics or even glow-in-the-dark moss offers glimpses of an environmentally friendly biotech future. One of my favorite examples is the OpenCell project in London—an open lab where tinkerers engineer bacteria to create pigments, medicines, and more. If you’re curious, their livestream workshops are a must-watch. If you want to learn more about OpenCell, check out their Instagram (@opencelllondon)!

Biopunk also exposes how the very systems we rely on can embed oppression as a deliberate design choice. As Marie Hicks’ A Feature, Not a Bug shows, computing infrastructures have historically “bootstrapped” themselves on sexism, racism, and classism—these weren’t glitches to be patched but foundational features that concentrated power and silenced dissent. In the same way, today’s biotech giants lock down genes behind patents, enforce opaque clinical trials, and widen the gap between those who can afford CRISPR therapies and those who cannot. Biopunk rebels refuse this closed ecosystem: they open-source gene drives, document every step of their DIY experiments, and build community-run bio-labs so that biology becomes a shared resource, not a gated fortress. By treating vulnerability—the “bugs” in our social DNA—as opportunities for collective control, Biopunk flips the script, demanding transparent, equitable, and emancipatory futures for life itself.

It also calls to mind Michel Foucault’s concept of “biopolitics,” where power operates through the regulation of life itself. Foucault warned us that when states and corporations control reproduction, health, and genetics, freedom can slip away. Biopunk rebels refuse these controls, embracing DIY gene drives and community-run biofoundries as acts of self-determination.

Biopunk also forces us to grapple with real-world ethical dilemmas around “editing life.” As the Harvard Gazette reminds us, human genome editing isn’t just a technical leap—it raises questions about who gets to benefit. For families watching children battle devastating genetic diseases, CRISPR offers the promise of excising cruel mutations. Yet for those living in poverty, it risks becoming another privilege reserved for the wealthy. This brings into question the bioethics surrounding the ability to change life, and how this privilege can be affected by socioeconomic barriers in society.

Moreover, Robert Truog, director of the Center for Bioethics at Harvard Medical School mentioned that “The concern is that with technologies that are relatively easy to use, like CRISPR, how does the scientific community regulate itself?” Within Biopunk, the DIY setups may allow for the common working class access to bioediting, however, it raises the question to not only how, but if bioediting should be controlled. In a post capitalist world, who is to say that these laissez-faire biotechnologists would also adhere to a code of ethics and safety?

Where Solarpunk dreams of solar-powered cities in lush greenery, and Steampunk invites us to turn wrenches on brass machines, Biopunk hands us pipettes and DNA sequences. If Haraway’s cyborg is our hopeful myth for fluid identity, then Biopunk’s petri dishes and gene splices ask us: Will we edit our genes for empowerment, or let patents and profit write our cellular scripts?

So what do we take away from all this? Biopunk reminds us that technology isn’t just hardware or software—it can be woven into the very fabric of life. Should we embrace open-source genetic tools that democratize biology, or fear the corporate labs sequencing our future?

I’d love to hear your thoughts! Is Biopunk the path to a more empowered, biocentric world, or a slippery slope toward designer bodies? Let me know in the comments!

Until next time, keep questioning the world around you! <3

Aestheticaste

VIDEOS TO WATCH

What is Biopunk? Biopunk Explained

Designer Babies and Genetic Engineering

Gattaca - A movie commentary on designer babies

[wistfulcynic]

from one minute to the next

A little something inspired by the prompts @winterbythesea posted here and here and here. This is not those prompts exactly (nor is it what I outlined on the discord, sorry guys) but I think it carries the same lighthearted dumbass energy as they do. 

Also, Killian Jones does not know what a ‘date’ is. Fight me, show. 

Summary: Emma’s not quite sure how it happened, but somehow she finds herself going from single and solitary in the city one minute to smoothly co-parenting with her ex, living with a pirate, and at home in a town full of storybook characters the next. 

Home. She never thought she’d have one of those. 

This is the story of how she got there. 

(also no! curse! renaissance! 3B divergence without Pan’s curse) 

<3k words  Rated T

AO3

-

from one minute to the next: 

Emma was never entirely certain how it happened. 

One minute she was telling Neal she didn’t want to get back together with him, that it was just too late for them now, and he was looking sad but in a resigned sort of way, as though he regretted the truth of her words while still recognising that they were true. 

“For what it’s worth,” he said. “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have listened to August. I shouldn’t have left you like that. If I hadn’t…” 

He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t have to. They both knew how different things would have been if he hadn’t left her. And they both knew that it was far too late to undo what had been done. The only option left was to move on. 

“We found each other again, though,” she reminded him. “And we found Henry.” 

“You mean Henry found us.” 

“Yeah, that’s probably more accurate.” 

They shared a chuckle, and for the briefest moment the years fell away and she remembered why she’d fallen for him. And for the first time since she’d run him down in a New York alleyway, Emma looked at Neal and she felt hopeful.  

“Anyway,” she said, “Henry wants both of us in his life. He deserves that, and I think he needs it. And I think for it to work we need to try to be friends.” 

“No hard feelings, then?” Neal asked, hopefully. 

Emma hesitated. 

What did she feel for Neal? There was still affection, of course there was—the stubborn remnants of a passionate first love that she doubted would ever fully die. There was resentment too, a lot of it, and a lot of hurt. A fair bit of anger. So yeah, there were some hard feelings, but there also wasn’t much point in attempting to hash any of them out with Neal. Not when they needed to move forward.   

She produced a smile, slightly stiff at the edges but he didn’t seem to notice. 

“Sure. No hard feelings.” 

Neal’s face broke into a grin, the wide, happy kind that crinkled his eyes and once upon a time would have sent Emma’s heartbeat into overdrive. Now it just made her think of another crinkly grin, one far rarer and all too often tinged with sadness. 

“Neal,” she said. “I’ve got to go.” 

-

The next minute she was at the docks, breathing deeply and gathering her courage, looking up at the Jolly Roger and hoping Hook—Killian—would be there, in his cabin, maybe with his flask and one of the books that lined his shelves. More than once these past few weeks she’d caught him tucked up in a corner somewhere, reading, and Belle informed her that he actually had a library card. 

“He didn’t have the required ID,” she’d said with a little smirk. “But I think we all know who he is.” 

Emma was pretty sure she did know that, now, and the knowledge propelled her forward, onto the deck of the ship then down to his cabin where she knocked firmly on his door and shivered a bit when his voice called for her to enter. 

He looked up, surprise registering on his face followed swiftly by the delight he could never quite conceal when he saw her. 

“Swan,” he purred. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

Emma’s heart was pounding and her throat dry, and honestly it was ridiculous to be this nervous, it wasn’t like he was going to say no. 

“I’m, um. Heretoaskyouout,” she blurted. 

He frowned. “To what?” 

Emma drew a deep breath and tried again. “Ask you out.” 

“Out of where?” 

“What? No. What?” 

“Where do you want me to go out of? This is my ship.” 

Emma resisted the urge to smack herself on the forehead. Of course he didn’t know what ‘ask you out’ meant, he was like a thousand years old. “No, no, I mean out on a date,” she explained. Tried to explain anyway, though his confusion just grew more apparent. “Like, to dinner or something. You and me. Out.” 

“Ah. Ah.” 

She watched as he turned the unfamiliar phrase over in his head, watched his eyes brighten with interest at learning a new thing, then when he finally realised fully what it meant she watched a rosy pink flush creep across his cheekbones and up to the tips of his ears. 

He swallowed, and when he spoke again his voice was gruff. “Let me be certain I understand. You want us, as in you and me, to go someplace and eat dinner together. Just—just us?” 

She nodded. “Yeah.” 

“And in this realm that is called a date?” 

“Yeah.” 

“And am I to understand that there are… romantic connotations to these dates?”

‘Romantic connotations’, she thought, for fuck’s sake, and did her best to ignore the fluttery feeling she always got in her belly whenever he broke out the big words. Aloud she said “Yeah.” 

“I see.” He swallowed again. “And when do you propose we have this date?” 

“Um. Tonight?” 

Aaand there it was, that wide and crinkly grin that made the blood rush far too recklessly through her veins, this time with no sadness lurking behind his eyes. None at all. 

“Tonight it is, then,” he said. 

-

One minute Emma was alone and telling herself she was content to be so, the next she had parents and a son and an ex who was almost a friend, and she was dating. Dating Hook, which she told herself firmly was only weird if she thought too hard about it. She wasn’t actually dating Captain Hook, of course she wasn’t. That would be ridiculous. No, she was dating Killian Jones—who was surprisingly, endearingly, sweet and nervous about it at first, like he wasn’t entirely certain her interest was real and was doing his utmost to tread carefully.

Emma didn’t want him always on his best behaviour, though, and while Killian was wonderful she knew that both of them still needed at least a little bit of Hook. And so it was that after their third date, when Henry was with Neal and Emma had made it very clear to her parents that they were not to expect her home before morning, that she and Killian stumbled back to his ship tipsy on rum but drunk on each other, and she made certain he understood exactly how interested she was. 

It was very. She was very interested. 

And when they awoke the next morning and she groaned at the glaring sunlight and pressed her face into his neck, muttering that it was too damn early and she needed caffeine, he ran his fingers through her hair and informed her he had a coffeemaker in his galley. 

She pulled back and blinked at him. “You what?” 

He flushed slightly, though with a pleased grin. “I asked Granny and she showed me what I needed, and helped me buy it.”

“But why? You don’t drink coffee.” 

He shrugged. “It’s growing on me. And besides, I thought—well, I hoped—that you might want to spend some time aboard ship in the future and, well, I want you to feel comfortable here and to have the things you like.” 

She stared at him for a moment as his flush deepened, then surged forward and kissed him, wrapped herself tightly around him and kissed him and kissed him until they were both breathless and the coffee forgotten until much, much, much later. 

-

Another minute passed and they were marking six months together. Emma had rented a place of her own, nothing fancy but hers, and she and Killian were spending most of their nights there. Her bed was bigger than the bunk in his cabin, softer and with actual springs, and her parents, Granny, and Ruby had all chipped in to buy her an espresso machine. Small but serviceable, like her apartment. Granny taught both her and Killian how to use it—and honestly, Emma thought, you haven’t truly lived until you’ve seen a shirtless pirate with a hook for a hand whip up a latte on a Sunday morning—and she was, tentatively, happy. 

Very happy. 

She didn’t see too much of Neal. He spent time with Henry of course and with Belle, renovating the pawn shop and brightening it a bit, removing what traces they could of the Dark One’s influence. She also knew he was volunteering at the convent where the Lost Boys lived, helping them get accustomed to life in Storybrooke and make it their home. 

He might also, she suspected, have become somewhat more than friends with Tink. 

-

And then one night Emma and Killian had dinner at a new place by the docks, where they gorged on seafood and drank a bit too much wine and decided, for safety and for old times’ sake, to spend the night on the Jolly Roger rather than trying to get home. 

Home. She had a home now, and a man who as good as lived there with her. She should really get around to asking him to live there officially, she knew. She kept meaning to. She wanted to, she truly did. But as conversations go that one felt so weighty and so significant that she wanted to be sure to do it right and so in the end she’d done nothing at all—nothing except feel that little bit more guilty each time Killian asked her politely if it was all right for him to stay. 

Yes, she wanted to tell him. Stay forever. Soon she would. 

They stumbled onto the ship and to his cabin, foolish and messy in a way they hadn’t been for a while. Emma realised she had missed this a bit, the dark, almost feral look in Killian’s eyes when he was just this shade of drunk and she was naked in his bed on his ship. 

“You are… so beautiful, Emma,” he growled against her throat as his fingers tangled in her hair. “Have I told you how you steal my breath away?” 

“Not for at least an hour,” she teased. 

“Remiss of me.” 

“Mmm. However will you… ohhh… make it up to me?” 

He pulled back and looked down at her, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. “Oh, I have one or two ideas.” 

-

They woke late the next morning as was their habit on a Sunday, and Emma groaned as the light pierced her eyelids and straight through her throbbing head. 

“Killian.” She poked him in the ribs. 

“Mmphh,” he replied. 

“You still have your… thing. Right? Coffee thing? In the galley?” 

“Aye.” He rubbed his eyes and blinked. “I believe there’s aspirin in there as well.” 

Emma turned her poking finger into a caressing one, stroking him with the tip of it. “Killian,” she said again, in a wheedling tone. 

“It’s your turn to make the coffee and you know it, Swan,” he replied, in his pirate captain voice. 

She huffed. He raised an eyebrow. 

“Fine.” She flung the covers off and rolled out of bed, snatched his shirt from the floor and threw it on, buttoning it just enough to keep it from flapping when she walked. “I’m guessing you don’t have milk though.” 

“Certainly not any in a drinkable state. Though there should be some of that horrid creamer.” 

She perked up. “Cinnamon?” 

“What else?” 

In the galley Emma found the coffeemaker and an open packet of coffee that smelled surprisingly fresh given how long it had been since they’d last slept here. There was also the cinnamon creamer, unopened, and a big bottle of aspirin. One minute she was pulling everything off the shelves and turning to set them on the table, and the next the door was swinging open and a person walking through it, and Emma found herself colliding sharply with a bare chest. A familiar bare chest. A familiar bare chest that was not Killian’s. 

“Neal!” she shrieked, dropping everything in her arms. “What the fuck!” 

“Emma!” He looked equally stunned. “What the—what are you doing here?” 

“Here on my—on Hook’s ship, you mean?” My boyfriend’s ship, she wanted to say, but calling a 300-year-old pirate a boyfriend was something she still couldn’t do, however objectively true it may be. 

“The ship he said I could use whenever I needed it?” countered Neal. “Yeah, that one!” 

“He said you could use his ship?” 

“Uh huh, he did. When I, you know.” A shifty look crept onto his face. “Wanted privacy.” 

“Priva-oh!” Emma’s eyes widened as the penny dropped. Neal was still living in his father’s house. The house where Belle also lived. “Um. I see.” 

“Yeah.” Neal didn’t meet her eyes. “But why are you here, don’t you have your own place now?” he demanded. “I thought Hook lived with you.” 

“Not officially,” she muttered. “And we, um, had a bit to drink last night at that new seafood place and you know.” She shrugged. “The ship was closer.” 

“Huh. Well that explains those noises I heard last night.” 

Emma was just about to ask him what the fuck that was supposed to mean when the door opened again and a voice called “Why don’t I smell coff—oh! Um. Hi Emma.” 

Emma pressed her thumbs against her temples. “Hey, Tink.” 

The fairy was dressed identically to how Emma herself was, only the shirt she wore was Neal’s. An old Metallica tee because of course. 

“Well,” said Tink. “That explains those noises we heard.” 

Neal nodded. 

“What noises—” Emma began, then the door opened again. 

“Did you find everything, love—oh. Er.” Killian appeared in the room wearing only his jeans and without his hook. He scratched behind his ear. “Hello, friends and enemies.”

“Hook,” said Tink and Neal. 

“Killian,” said Emma. She crossed her arms over her chest. “You never told me you were letting Neal stay here.” 

“Ah. I did offer him use of the first mate’s quarters whenever he was seeking a bit of privacy, yes. If you remember, love, my quarters proved invaluable in that respect when you were still living with your parents.” 

Emma felt her cheeks grow hot. “Yeah,” she muttered. 

“I merely thought Neal and Tink could do with a bit of the same benefit. And you know the Jolly gets lonely if she’s left by herself for too long. Although,” Killian favoured Neal and Tink with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, “I did make that offer quite some time ago now. And I don’t believe I said anything about staying here.” 

“Yeah, well.” Neal’s face took on that belligerent look he got when he was feeling defensive. “I don’t want to move out of Papa’s place and leave Belle alone.” 

“Are you kidding me?” Emma demanded. 

Everyone stared at her. “What?” asked Neal. 

“Belle’s seeing Ruby.” 

“Ruby?” 

“Yeah. For like three months now. Ruby’s constantly moaning about how they can’t stay at her place because Granny’s got wolf hearing and they can’t go to Belle’s because it’s full of you. Trust me, Belle will be okay if you move out.” 

“Oh,” said Neal blankly. “Well. Fuck.” 

Emma looked around the room, at her current boyfriend and her ex-boyfriend and her ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend who was also her current boyfriend’s ex… something, all of them in varying states of dishevelment, hangover, and undress, and she started to laugh. 

“Yeah,” she said. “That about sums it up.” 

-

So Emma never did quite figure out how it happened, but somehow she ended up with a home of her own in a fairy tale town with fairy tale friends and a pirate boyfriend, where one minute she was drinking coffee in a ship’s galley with a group of people who knew each other far too intimately for anyone’s comfort and the next her ex and his girlfriend were her neighbours and her pirate was living at her place for good—at their place, now—and her son was bouncing happily between the two apartments save at least one night a week that he spent at Regina’s. She and Neal co-parented better than she could ever have hoped, and every morning she woke up to blue eyes warm with love and lattes made precisely how she liked them. 

And, well. Emma’s happiness wasn’t tentative anymore. 

-

She was happy. Really happy. Truly happy. So happy that when she came home one evening to find the kitchen smoke alarm shrieking and Henry teetering on a stool waving a towel at it as Killian and Neal grappled with some foamy, hissing, smoking substance on the countertop, she wasn’t even mad. 

“What the hell do you idiots think you’re doing?” she demanded. 

“Ems!” 

“Mom!” 

“Swan!” 

“It’s not what it looks like!” they cried in unison. 

Emma shook her head. “I’m going next door,” she said. “To have a beer with Tink. This,” she gestured vaguely at the room, “had better be dealt with by the time I get back.” 

As she turned and headed back out the door, the last thing she heard were three furious voices. 

“Now look what you’ve done!”  

“What I’ve done! It was your idea!” 

“And I still don’t have a science project!” 

Emma grinned, and shut the door firmly behind her.

---

@thisonesatellite @ohmightydevviepuu @mariakov81 @stahlop @kmomof4 @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @shireness-says @thesschesthair @courtorderedcake @everything-person @katie-dub 

[juniwinkle]

𓂃 み New Cafe, New Me ٬٬

irene ✦ red velvet

ᅟᅟᅟ⌕ em caso de inspiração, CREDITE

[raewritez]

currently wishing i was a fairy in pixie hollow

[ask-thegreenfairy]

Who is the kindest person you know?

It *was* Baelfire. He was not only the kindest, but also the most selfless and bravest person I've ever known. If anything, he had the biggest heart. I miss him tremendously.

[cinnabun-bunny]

All my bitches.

[oneandahalfwolf]

actual benley tweets. 0/??; twitter bios

                         @oneandahalfwolf & @bloodsorceress.

[sugarcherriess]

Bothering You Is A FullTime Job (And I’m Dedicated) — Jacob Bae

[Jacob Bae x Afab!Reader]

Warnings: Smut, softdom? Jacob.

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

Alone in his room, Jacob shuffles around to find something to do. he’s bored out of his mind but too tired to work. sitting down on his desk, disappointed at his brain for not liking anything enough to immerse itself in, he starts thinking about you. you’ve been friends with the guys for a long time. no one is sure whose friend you initially were, all they know is that your bond got strong as soon as you met them.

and you were beautiful. so so beautiful. unbeknownst to you or his bandmates, Jacob had been harbouring a crush on you since forever. although he was never able to tell you how infatuated he was, he always indulged in his fantasies.

a knock on his door brings him back to earth. and then he hears your honey voice call him,,, man he’s whipped.

“are you busy?” you ask him, leaning your head against the door.

never for you

“not really,” he smiles back at you. is it weird that he wants to kiss you right now, two sentences in?

“ugh i’m so bored Jacob,” you saunter up to him, plopping yourself graciously on his lap. “there’s nothing to do,” you tinker around with things on his desk, “i came to play video games with Haki but he had to leave so i thought i’d come see you. what are you up to?”

Jacob thinks he’s going to faint.

“why are you so stiff? c’mon you can touch me,” you tease. you’ve been doing that a lot lately. because everyone knew about Jacob’s crush on you. Jacob wasn’t as discreet as he hoped to be. but no one told him that because he’s so fun to tease.

Jacob has no idea how to respond to you. so he just lets his hand get dragged by you, settling on your waist. he grabs and squeezes, forgetting for a moment that it's his friend on his lap, not his lover.

you then turn and sit across his lap, acting as if you’re worried about his stoicness.

“what’s wrong? are you uncomfortable? i can sit on the bed instead if you want?” you bait him, waiting for his refusal to let you go. which comes quicker than you hoped,

“no! no i'm not uncomfortable it's fine, really”

“alright, if you say so.”

you stare at his face for a while, just absorbing how fucking beautiful he is. and how red he’s getting. you bring yourself closer to kiss his cheek and giggle when he gasps.

“what are you doing?” he questions as your kisses make their descent on his neck.

instead of answering him, you bring his hand on top of your thigh, dragging it lower.

“i have to confess something,” you whisper in his ear, “i know you have a crush on me cobie,” you giggle, “all of us do. you don’t hide it well~”

he’s at a loss for words.

his hand, led by yours, finally reaches your scorching heat. both of you moan at the touch.

fuck it feels amazing

“do you wanna know a secret?” you airily whisper against his neck.

“what?”

“Haknyeon and I weren’t gonna play games. i knew you were going to be alone, so that’s why i came over,”

Jacob feels at least three thousand arteries in his body explode.

his free hand grabs your hair and yanks you up to kiss you. his teeth bite and his tongue lick whatever they can reach. he feels like he’s going feral. he feels so betrayed for no one telling him you knew he liked you or that you liked him. but he’s so thankful for whatever is going on right now.

god what is happening?

the hand on your clothed cunt makes its way inside your panties and lands straight on your clit. he rubs it in the messiest way possible as a way to give you a small punishment for being such a minx. your breathy moans and whines give him such a rush. he wants to give you the world.

unfortunately, he has to settle on shoving his fingers inside your cunt. so that’s just what he does. he starts with one but with the way you’re leaking on his lap, he can’t help but sneak in two more. his pace is fast and hard. a slap echoes in the room every time his thick fingers make their slick way inside you. they hit all your good spots and rub your walls so deliciously, you think you can hear the angels singing. Jacob grunts at your fucked out state and curls his fingers inside you. it’s the feeling of him pushing his thumb against your clit makes you curl up into him with pleasure.

“Jacob- Jacob please,” you don’t even know what you’re begging for, just that you need it now.

he whispers sweet praises into your ear, telling you how good you are for him and how much he adores you. his steady fingers steadily coax an orgasm out of you. it feels as if he gave your entire body a massage, your climax relaxes your body into limpness.

Jacob stops the movement of his fingers but keeps them inside you, enjoying the warmth of your cunt a little too much. when he feels like you’re tiptoeing around slumber, he removes his hands from inside you and takes out a wipe from his desk to gently clean you up. he knows the position will get uncomfortable soon, but he’s so blown out of his mind from the entire ordeal that he just kisses your forehead and hugs you to himself.

he’ll move you two once he gets back his wits. for now, this is enough.

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

A/N: this is pretty self indulgent so if it feels slow or whatever ykw 👁