#Tugs Burke

[thisisadriana4evertugsfan]

someone wants to draw my oc belida in your style

[sollyinpurplepants]

Happy holidays to you too!!!

Works that are never destined to be finished, I put them off for a long time and decided to leave them like this, some of the art is already more than a year or half a year old. There are also old reddesigns of tugs here

And Merry Christmas to all of you 🎄🎉

@sollyinpurplepants

[widowshill]

— Are you sure Burke wants to buy Collinwood? — Yes, he said so. I'm just afraid it's only the beginning of what he wants.

[augustvandyne]

Addie x reader where Addie knows reader has a crush on her and flirts with reader to mess with her

this is short too. i’m sorry!! i’ve been sick for a few days and im just starting to recover.

a choice with me

“Hello darling,” Addison slides behind you, her body pressing against yours. “How are you this morning?”

“Fine,” You blush, turning your head away as Addison leans against the nurses station beside you. “I’m not on your service today.”

“I know,” Addison tilts her head, placing a hand on your arm to get you to face her again. “I’ll miss you.”

“You will?” You roll your eyes sassily.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me,” Addison runs her finger across your jaw seductively.

“Y— you’re not the boss of me today,” You stutter nervously.

“No, but I will be in two days.”

You scoff, “Yeah, whatever.”

All you want to do in Addison’s presence is cry, scream, and smash your lips against hers. It’s unprofessional, you know that, but it’s the truth.

There was just something about Addison that you couldn’t comprehend. She made you feel good and seen, but also made you flustered. She was one of the only people you could trust.

She knew things about you not even your own friends or family knew. And she hadn’t told a soul.

“What are you thinking?” Addison’s face turns serious.

“Nothing,” You frown. “I should go before Burke has my head.”

You walk away, leaving Addison standing by the station on her own.

She struts up beside you, and you aren’t even surprised at how fast she catches up to you, considering her height. One of the many things that makes you feel what you feel for her.

“Talk to me,” Addison insists.

“Nothing is wrong,” You shake your head, chuckling slightly.

Addison pulls you to the side, “You swear?”

“I swear,” You nod.

Addison runs her knuckles across your cheek, and your cheeks redden again.

“Come get a drink with me tonight,” Addison gives a breathtaking smirk. “That’s not a request.”

“Yes, Dr. Montgomery,” You look down nervously, but she lifts your chin back to her.

“Good girl,” Addison lifts her brows suggestively, leaving you a blubbering mess in the middle of the hallway.

The door rings with your entrance to Joe’s Bar, and Addison’s eyes are drawn to your body in an instant.

You weren’t wearing anything special— it was the same thing you arrived in this morning— a simple sweater and some leggings.

“I’m here,” Your hands find your hips with attitude. “My presence was demanded.”

Addison squints at you, taking a sip of her drink, and you’d be lying if you said your eyes didn’t watch her throat contract as she drank the bitter liquid.

“You actually came,” Addison places the glass on the bar.

“I wasn’t aware it was a choice,” You tilt your head.

“You always have a choice with me,” Addison’s eyes move down to your lips, but back up to your eyes.

You had a feeling that her words had more than one meaning.

You let out a breath that sounds like a laugh and a scoff, “Good.”

Addison keeps her eyes on yours, internally fighting herself from looking at your lips again, afraid she’ll give in to you if she does.

You swallow nervously, “Addie..”

“What?” Addison’s eyes continuously dart between your eyes and your plump lips.

“Stop playing,” Your eyes look hurt. “You know how I feel for you.”

Addison runs her thumb over your bottom lip, “And I feel the same for you. I’ve just been trying to deny it because you are an intern, and I’m an attending.. but there’s no more denying it. I want you, too.”

A small smile tugs at your lips, “Really?”

“Really,” Addison confirms and leans in to place a small kiss on your lips. “I don’t care about age or anything like that anymore. I only care about you.”

You look down, a blush taking over.

“You’re adorable,” Addison places another small kiss on your cheek and leans back. “Now, let me take you to get some food.”

“Okay,” You bounce on your toes as you slide off the stool, Addison’s arm making its way round your waist.

[callmedaleelah]

— Pinnacle [ tsukishima kei university au series ]

— and i don’t know how it gets better than this ; let’s take a look on how a month of a relationship would be like

author’s notes : no mention of (y/n), written in second person pov, semi alternative universe, timeskip!tsukishima, college life, not proofread, english is not my first language

[ masterlist ] | [ ask daleelah go to box box 🐭 ]

Do you want to have lunch in the cafeteria?

As you were packing up your notes and preparing to head back to the dorm after a long day of classes, your phone buzzed softly in your pocket.

The text was from Tsukishima, and your heart did a little flip as you read it. It had only been two minutes since your class ended, and he was already asking to meet up. A small smile tugged at your lips as you began typing back.

My mom just sent me lunch 🥹

Heading to dorm now

you quickly replied, trying hard to suppress the giddiness that threatened to spill over. It had been a month since you started dating, and even though the relationship still felt new and exciting, there was a comforting familiarity in the way Tsukishima showed his affection—always understated, never excessive, but undeniably present.

The phone buzzed again.

Stop walking. I’m behind you.

You froze mid-step, instinctively turning around to see him standing there, his tall frame leaning casually against a nearby lamppost. His expression was as unreadable as always, but the faint smirk on his lips gave him away. Your cheeks warmed with the blush that spread across your face, and your smile bloomed wider.

Tsukishima walked toward you, closing the distance with a calm, measured pace. When he reached you, his hand gently ruffled your hair, tousling it just enough to make it messy. But before you could protest, he smoothed it back down, his fingers moving with surprising gentleness. You felt a warmth bubble up inside you at the small act of care.

Without a word, he took your hand in his, his long fingers intertwining with yours as you both began walking toward your dorm. His grip was firm, steady, and familiar. It was these small gestures that always caught you off guard—how someone as stoic as him could show affection in such quiet, tender ways.

As you walked, he glanced down at you.

“So, how was class?” he asked, his tone casual but interested.

You shrugged lightly, trying to think of something coherent to say despite the fluttering in your chest. “It was okay, I guess. We had a lecture on enzyme kinetics today. It’s... complicated. We’re learning about how different substrates affect reaction rates and how to calculate Vmax and Km using Lineweaver-Burk plots. It’s kinda overwhelming.” You chuckled, trying to play it off, but the truth was, biochemistry wasn’t getting any easier. The second semester was filled with more challenging topics—metabolism, enzyme mechanisms, and signal transduction pathways. Sometimes it felt like your brain was spinning in circles trying to keep up.

Tsukishima’s thumb brushed over the back of your hand in a soothing motion. “Hmm, sounds like you’re managing,” he commented, his voice low and cool, but there was an underlying sense of approval in his words. “Just don’t overthink it.”

You nodded, appreciating his subtle encouragement, even if it was delivered in the most Tsukishima way possible.

When the two of you reached your dorm, you invited him inside. “You can sit down,” you said, motioning to the low table as you slipped off your shoes. “I’ll get us some tea.”

Tsukishima didn’t argue, simply settling himself comfortably at the table. He stretched out his long legs under the table, leaning back with that same calm, collected demeanor. You poured two glasses of iced barley tea, setting them down on the table along with the meal your mom had sent. Two plates of rice, grilled mackerel, miso soup, and some side dishes—enough for the both of you.

“I’m glad you came with me to the dorm,” you said, sitting across from him. “Finally, someone can help me eat all of this food. My mom keeps sending more than I can finish.”

Tsukishima let out a soft sigh, clearly unimpressed by your complaint, but he said nothing. Instead, he picked up his chopsticks and muttered a quiet, “Itadakimasu,” before digging in.

“Itadakimasu,” You started eating as well, savoring the familiar flavors of homemade food. But halfway through, you felt your hair falling into your face, getting in the way as you tried to eat. You pushed it back with your hand, annoyed, but it kept slipping forward again.

Tsukishima’s gaze shifted toward you, and without saying a word, Tsukishima stood up and walked over to your desk. You looked up, confused, but before you could ask what he was doing, he grabbed a hairpin from the top drawer. Moving with quiet precision, he came over and gently swept your hair back, securing it in place with the pin. His fingers brushed against your temple as he worked, and you felt your face heat up, your heart pounding in your chest.

“There,” he said simply, stepping back as if nothing had happened, as if tying your hair was just another mundane task. But the subtle softness in his actions didn’t go unnoticed by you.

You sat there, momentarily stunned by the unexpected act of care. Your face felt like it was on fire, but you managed a small, “Thank you,” before quickly looking down at your food, hoping he wouldn’t notice how flustered you were.

Of course, Tsukishima noticed. He always did. But instead of teasing you about it, he simply returned to his seat and resumed eating, as if tying your hair was no big deal. Still, the softness of the gesture lingered in the air between you, a quiet reminder of the tenderness he hid behind his stoic exterior.

A few moments passed in comfortable silence before Tsukishima spoke again, his tone as cool and casual as ever. “I’m going grocery shopping after this. Want to come?”

You almost choked on your rice at the sudden question, nodding a bit too enthusiastically in response. “Yeah, I’ll come,” you said, trying to sound calm, even though your heart was still fluttering from earlier. You avoided his gaze, focusing on your food instead, hoping he wouldn’t notice how nervous he still made you.

But of course, he noticed. You caught the faintest hint of a smirk on his face before he resumed eating, completely unfazed. And somehow, that only made your heart race even faster.

The clinking of silverware against the plates was the only sound between you and Tsukishima as you both finished dinner. It was a quiet moment, but not awkward—just the kind of comfortable silence that had begun to settle naturally between you two. You were about to gather the dishes when Tsukishima leaned back, glancing at you with a knowing look.

“You can go change. I’ll wash the dishes,” he said, his voice carrying that soft, direct tone that you’d come to recognize as one of his small acts of care.

You blinked, a little surprised, your hand freezing just as you were about to reach for the plates. Did he know that you had planned to rush to the sink—hoping to clean up quickly so you could change and head to the grocery store with him? The realization that he had noticed, or perhaps just anticipated your routine, made your heart warm slightly. But before you could protest or offer to help, Tsukishima stood up, gathering the dirty plates himself, his long fingers deftly handling the stack as he carried them to the sink.

For a moment, you just watched him—admiring the subtle way his back muscles shifted beneath his shirt, his movements smooth and efficient as he began rinsing the dishes. A soft sigh escaped you as you thought about how thoughtful he was. Being romantic and naturally kind were two different things, right? But with Tsukishima, the lines always seemed to blur. Maybe he wasn’t the overly affectionate type, but his quiet actions spoke volumes.

“You’re going to change, or just stand there staring?” His voice pulled you from your thoughts, and your face immediately warmed in embarrassment. Tsukishima wasn’t even looking at you, but he’d sensed it all.

With a quick jump, “I-I’m going!” you grabbed a fresh set of clothes from your drawer and hurried to the bathroom to change. You could hear the faint sound of water running and plates clinking as he washed the dishes, and you couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for letting him do it.

Once you’d collected your clothes, you changed in the bathroom, letting the coolness of your new outfit calm your sudden rush of emotions. The fact that he had noticed such small details about you, that he had even anticipated your next move, made your heart race in a way you weren’t used to.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, feeling refreshed in your clean clothes, Tsukishima was already waiting by the door. His tall figure leaned casually against the doorway, his eyes flicking to you briefly before he reached out his hand. You took it quickly, slipping on your sneakers with your free hand, the warmth of his palm making you feel slightly more at ease.

As you both stepped outside into the early evening air, the streets were quiet, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. Tsukishima unlocked his car with a beep, and as he always did, he opened the passenger door for you, gesturing for you to get in first. You couldn’t help but smile as you slid into the seat, appreciating the small gesture.

He walked around to the driver’s side and got in, starting the car with a low rumble. As he pulled out onto the street, the golden sunlight filtering through the trees created an almost dreamlike atmosphere inside the car. You snuck a glance at him—his profile lit by the warm light, the subtle focus in his eyes as he drove, his grip steady on the steering wheel. There was something comforting about being next to him like this, in the quiet space that only the two of you occupied.

“Didn’t think you were the type to leave dirty dishes behind,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he looked at you sideways.

You laughed softly, squeezing his hand lightly in return. “I didn’t plan on it! You just swooped in so quickly.”

He hummed in acknowledgment, his eyes focused ahead. “Thought I’d spare you from rushing around.”

You smiled at his words, appreciating how well he knew you. He always seemed to understand the little things you didn’t even realize about yourself.

There was a beat of silence before he spoke again, this time in a quieter tone. “You want to get ice cream after I’m done with groceries?” he asked, glancing at you briefly before parking the car.

The mention of ice cream caught you off guard, and before you could even think about it, your face lit up with a grin. “Yes, please,” you answered eagerly, though you tried to keep your tone polite, not wanting to seem too excited. But Tsukishima noticed anyway, the faintest hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

“Thought you’d like that,” he muttered, a bit of teasing in his voice as he unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. You couldn’t help but feel a bit giddy as you followed him into the store, his hand slipping into yours once more as if it was second nature.

The cool air of the grocery store greeted you as the automatic doors slid open. Tsukishima walked beside you, casually pushing the cart with one hand, while his other hand remained intertwined with yours. It was a small gesture, but it made your heart flutter. You glanced around the store, noting how brightly lit it was, rows of fresh produce on one side, aisles of packaged goods on the other. The slight hum of people moving about and the soft background music made the atmosphere feel almost peaceful.

Tsukishima paused for a moment, glancing at the list on his phone before steering the cart toward the vegetable section. His brows furrowed slightly in concentration, his long fingers tapping at the screen. You watched him for a moment, admiring how focused he seemed even with something as mundane as grocery shopping. It made you smile—how someone so seemingly distant and cool could still care about the little details.

“What?” Tsukishima asked, catching your gaze.

You quickly looked away, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Nothing, just… you look really serious about those vegetables,” you teased, trying to hide your fluster.

He raised an eyebrow, glancing down at the pile of vegetables in front of him. “Well, we need good ones. I’m not buying anything that’ll go bad in a day,” he replied, his tone neutral, though there was a hint of amusement in his eyes.

When he reached the hygiene aisle, he turned to you unexpectedly, “What hair product do you use?”

You blinked, surprised by the question. “Uh, I just buy whatever shampoo catches my eye each month. But my mom got me this hair mask and said I should use it every week.”

“What hair mask?” he asked, curiosity clear in his tone.

You walked a few steps to the shelf where the product was and pointed to a tub. “This one. It smells like cocoa,” you explained, trying not to sound too self-conscious.

Tsukishima took the container, examining it for a moment. “Why’s it so expensive for a hair product?” he mumbled under his breath. You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his confusion.

Suddenly, he reached out and gently picked up a strand of your hair, bringing it closer to his nose. “I was curious because your hair always smells nice,” he said casually, placing the container back on the shelf and moving to the next item. You stood there momentarily, blushing at the compliment, even though he had said it so nonchalantly.

Trying to hide the warmth creeping up your face, you fell back into step behind him, the interaction replaying in your head. After he finished collecting everything on his list, you both made your way to the cashier. The line moved slowly, but Tsukishima handed you his card before you had a chance to say anything.

“Go ahead and get the ice cream. I’ll meet you there after I pay for this,” he said, nodding toward the ice cream shop across the street.

Your face lit up at the suggestion. “What flavor do you want?” you asked, barely able to contain your excitement.

“Surprise me,” he replied with a small smile, clearly amused by your enthusiasm.

You grinned widely and, holding onto his card, headed toward the ice cream shop, trying to decide on the perfect flavor combination that would do the “surprise” justice. Tsukishima, meanwhile, watched you leave with a soft chuckle, shaking his head at how effortlessly happy you seemed when it came to something as simple as ice cream.

You looked over the options, your eyes drawn to the more unique flavors. “One cup of vanilla yuzu and one cup of blueberry sea salt, please,” you told the employee with a polite smile.

There was something thrilling about trying new flavors—your mom had always been the type to stick to the basics, buying you plain vanilla or chocolate, often with the cautionary “what if you don’t like it and throw it away?” But today, you wanted something different, something adventurous.

As you received the cups, Tsukishima walked into the shop, immediately spotting you. You smiled instinctively when you saw him, feeling a rush of warmth at the sight of him. He pointed toward a small table near the window, a cozy spot bathed in the fading golden light of the evening. You followed him as he pulled out a chair for you to sit first—a small, but appreciated gesture that made your heart skip.

Once you were both settled, Tsukishima glanced at the ice cream cups you placed on the table. His eyes shifted to you with mild curiosity. “What’s this?”

You grinned, practically buzzing with excitement to see how he’d react to the flavors. “Just try it,” you urged him, sliding one of the cups toward him.

He picked up the small plastic spoon and dipped it into the vanilla yuzu first, bringing the bite to his lips. His expression remained neutral, but you noticed the way his eyes softened slightly as he savored the taste, the sweetness of vanilla melding with the citrusy sharpness of yuzu.

“It’s good,” he said simply, placing the spoon down.

Your smile widened. “Yeah? Try this one,” you added, offering him a spoonful of the blueberry sea salt.

As he leaned in and took the spoon from your hand, you suddenly remembered the time he had casually sipped from your cup of hot chocolate before you got in a relationship. The memory made your cheeks flush slightly, and you quickly turned your attention back to your own ice cream, feeling the heat rise to your face.

Tsukishima hummed quietly in approval as he tasted the blueberry, though he didn’t comment further. His calm demeanor never wavered, but you could tell he preferred the first flavor from the subtle way his attention shifted back to the vanilla yuzu cup.

For a while, the two of you ate in comfortable silence, the sounds of the shop around you blending into the background. The occasional clink of spoons against the cups, the soft hum of conversation from other customers—it all felt peaceful, like time had slowed down just for you two.

After a few more bites, Tsukishima broke the silence. “I’m gonna be busy for the next two days,” he said, his tone casual, but his gaze fixed on you. “You okay with that?”

You smiled, shrugging nonchalantly. “Of course. We used to see each other by coincidence, remember? I can manage two days without you,” you replied, your voice light and playful.

Tsukishima’s lips curled slightly in amusement, his eyes glinting with a teasing edge. “Yeah—thought I should give you the experience of missing your boyfriend’s presence now that you have one.”

The teasing tone made your heart skip a beat, and before you knew it, you were playfully nudging his side, laughing at his comment. Tsukishima smirked, though there was a warmth behind it—a quiet understanding that, despite his teasing, you’d miss him more than you were letting on.

sorry i didn’t upload it sooner, and i missed kei’s birthday—bit i promise to post about it tomorrow, so i hope you guys still wait for this story to finish 🥹🥹

it’s been so hectic guys—but i miss writing and see your comments—they always lighten up my mood 🫶🏻✨🤧

tagslist (free to mention) ; @theweirdfloatything @snowthatareblack @ilovemymomscooking @nayiiryun @knightofmidnight @kozumesphone @scxrcherr @thechaosoflonging @monya-febrjack

[lulublack90]

Prompt 12 - Jealous

@jegulus-microfic November 12, Word count 746

Previous part First part

James jumped out of his car before any of the others could even unbuckle their seatbelts and opened Regulus’s door for him. Regulus looked up at him a bit bewildered, but took his hand anyway and let James guide him out of the car. 

“How come you never do that for me?” Remus pouted as he walked around the car to where Sirius stood waiting.

“Because of what I let you do to me this morning,” Sirius quipped, raising his brow, daring Remus to keep going as he would definitely describe every moment in minute detail. He’d done it before and would feel no shame in recounting their exploits in front of his brother. Remus smartly kept his mouth shut, and they headed into the gallery silently. 

James was surprised how many people were milling around the exhibits and just how large the art show actually was. There were so many artists showcasing their work. 

“Where’s yours?” He asked Regulus as they followed the crowd to the first display. 

“Back right,” Regulus told him, pointing in the right direction. James started to walk that way, but Regulus tugged his hand to stop him. “No, we have to look at everybody’s. We can’t just go straight to mine,” Regulus muttered quickly. 

“Why not?” James questioned. “I want to see yours,” Regulus’s cheeks turned pink as he ducked his head. 

“I need a few minutes to prepare myself for going over there,” Regulus admitted, clearly nervous about how James would react.

“Let’s go look at some art then,” James said, kissing the back of Regulus’s hand and following after Sirius and Remus. “Thank you for telling me what you needed, love. You can always do that, and I’ll respect it every time,” He didn’t need to look down to know how deep the red was that coloured Regulus’s cheeks now, he could quite happily picture it in his head.

They caught up with Sirius and Remus, the former having a heated discussion with Remus in front of the artist about his piece. 

“I just don’t get it,” Sirius was saying. “I mean, it’s just a tennis ball,” Remus sighed. 

“It’s modern art; the tennis ball represents the way that commercialism has changed the way sports are viewed,”

“It represents a game of fetch,” Sirius retorted, much to the artist's ire. Remus hurriedly moved Sirius along to a painting of a park. “See, Remus, there’s a dog playing fetch with a tennis ball,” He said loudly as they took in the work. 

“I changed my mind,” Regulus said quietly into James’s ear. “I can not follow him around here, let's just go see my stuff,” James beamed down at him. 

“Lead the way, love,” 

Regulus led them all the way to the back of the hall and stopped in front of ‘Burk with a Nana’. “Wait!” James exclaimed. “They let you display it with that name?!” Regulus shrugged. 

“Art,” He said simply, as a means of explanation. “As long as it isn’t too sweary, they don’t mind.” 

James moved with Regulus, looking at each piece. Regulus seemed to lean towards painting, but there were charcoal sketches, clay sculptures and a cat made from intricately twisted gold-coloured wire. James was in awe of Regulus and was about to say so when he spotted him chatting with a tall, dirty-blonde-haired man. He felt suddenly quite jealous, an emotion he wasn’t used to feeling at the easy way they were conversing and the smile on Regulus’s face. He strode over there, putting a possessive arm around Regulus and waited to be introduced. 

“James, this is Evan. Our parents know each other. Evan, this is James, my, er, my…”

“Boyfriend,” James provided helpfully. To be fair to Regulus, they hadn’t discussed labels, but, by the pleased look on Regulus’s face, he quite liked this one. Evan’s eyebrows shot up his face in surprise. 

“Oh, wow,” He said. “Erm, wow, Regulus, that’s so good,” His face softened. “I’m so happy for you. I’m here with my boyfriend, actually. I think you know him. Oh, look, here he is now. Darling, look who it is,” A slim-built man in an expensive-looking suit strode over to their little group, his dark brown hair slicked back expertly, showing off the sparking diamond earring, glinting off the light as he neared them. James felt Regulus still at his side. 

“Barty,” Regulus breathed out when the man stopped before them, looking shocked at who Evan was talking to. 

“Reggie?” 

Next part

[sebastianswallows]

The English Client — Thirteen

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: smut, masturbation, dirty talk, fingering, oral (f receiving)

— WORDCOUNT: 2k

— TAGLIST: @esolean @localravenclaw @slytherins-heir

I

She leaned back on her elbows for a moment, then they gave up and she crashed upon the bed sated and giddy. Fire licked across her skin from her thighs up past her tummy to nestle in her heart. Every breath was sweet and the naked darkness was the finest cover. She smiled, a little love-drunk, as she let her mind swim in the feeling for a little longer. Tom was sitting on the floor just at her feet, his cold hands rubbing up and down her ankles. She could feel his gaze slide over her but she no longer felt ashamed or shy. She just enjoyed knowing him there. Opening her eyes slightly and looking down at him, she smiled at the sight of his pale face in the darkness, his messy hair, his smile. He looked so smug… The bastard.

“Happy?” she quietly asked.

“Not as happy as you,” he said with a cocked brow.

“That’s… undeniably true,” she purred, and rubbed a teasing foot over the bulge in his trousers.

Tom hissed and gripped her ankle tighter. “Don’t play with me.”

“Alright,” she said, grinning lazily, and with a silky motion that was unlike any she’d been capable of before she pulled her legs up and curled up on the bed, laying on her side before him. “Play with yourself, then.”

He glared at her a moment as if unsure, distrusting, and… afraid? Tom was harder to read than the maiden text of a palimpsest, she hated that about him. And loved him a little for it too…

“Come on,” she pleaded. “I want to see.”

He huffed and it came out like a whine from his strained throat. But he didn’t need much encouragement, he was aching for it, even she could tell. His thin white hands undid his trousers quickly and, with his eyes still fixed on her, rolled them down his hips. He pulled his cock out while still kneeling on the floor before her. She bit her lip as she watched him, blood rushing once again to fill her face. Hurriedly she stretched to untie the belt from around her legs, pulled her panties off, then sat upright to watch him. Tom unbuttoned his shirt with one hand while the other kept tugging at his shaft, his lips closed tightly, in control.

She could hear the wetness as it coated his fingers, his thighs, and lower, could almost see beneath his fist a hint of that plush sac that hung low and full beneath him. Above, on every downward stroke, the pink head peeked out and she so ached to kiss it… It drooled over his fingers, a clear lick of slick sliding down and shining in the low light like a tear. Tom moaned deep in his throat and moved the other hand beneath him, cupping himself. He closed his eyes, back straightened, chest peeking in a straight white line from behind his opened shirt, shiny with sweat… He was so beautiful.

She braced her hands upon the bed and with a rush of courage parted her legs. Her breasts were cold, her nipples peaking, the shift just a pool at her waist, and between her thighs she let him see the swollen, blushing mess he’d made. Tom’s eyes opened, smouldering.

“Wider,” he hissed.

She smiled and obeyed him, leaning back braced on her arms to show him everything. Her heart fluttered and she moaned when she felt her wet lips parting, plush and sticky and so very warm. Her wetness trickled, cooling on the angles between her thighs and torso.

“Tom,” she whispered, arcing her back, presenting herself as if his look could touch her. “I want your cum, right here… between my legs…”

He glared up at her from beneath his ruffled hair, his lips so tight they were an angry line. “Oh, you pretend to be a good girl,” he chuckled from behind clenched teeth. “But you’re very naughty, aren’t you?”

“Yes…”

“Is this what you’re thinking of, hm? When you’re pretending to work?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know…”

He held back a laugh as if he really did know.

“You’re insufferable,” she huffed.

“You love it.”

She smiled tenderly at him. “Come on, Tom, let me see what it’s like… Do it, then I’ll kiss you.”

“Promises, promises…”

He cupped his sac with one hand while the other one moved faster, noisier, flicking beads of precum all over his lower stomach. She squirmed on the bed and heard him moan when, with an inner tickle, a fresh sliver of desire started dripping out of her. The hand that was playing with his sac faltered and with a pained sound he tilted his head back. The long line of his neck arched like a beam of light in the dark.

His hand stilled then his hips started to thrust, and with some effort, he opened his eyes again to look at her. With his gaze fixed upon her slit, still pulsing and leaking and winking at him, Tom gently leaned forward and rested his head on her thigh. She inhaled through her teeth. He was so cold against her skin… But his dark eyes were like two burning coals.

“Do you like it?” she teasingly asked.

He nodded, looking thirsty and hungry and hurt.

“Then kiss it.”

He looked into her eyes then, his face as pale and motionless as a mask but managing a glare.

“Kiss it nicely,” she said again, a cruel smile on her lips.

To help him, she tilted her hips a little higher and brought one shaky hand down to her lips. She pressed the pillowy flesh aside, not that he needed it, and showed him more of her. Her clit was sticking out from its hood, still hard and throbbing.

“If I’m not a good girl, then maybe you can be a good boy instead...”

Tom smirked and took a deep breath in, licking his lips as his gaze turned back down to her softest parts. He teased her a little, pretending to dip his head for a kiss, then pulling back.

“You’re evil,” she groaned.

He chuckled. “You have no idea.”

But then he lowered his head and she felt his lips against her. “Aaah! T-tom… Yes, right there…”

She could feel his cheek against her fingers and the rapid shifting of his shoulder on her leg as he rubbed his cock for her. He groaned but his lips pulled her nub between them, giving it a few quick suckling kisses.

“Tom,” she whispered, her head falling back in another lustful daze. “So good…”

He laughed between her legs but didn’t have any smart comments this time. Instead, his upper lip caught her clit beneath it and he slid his tongue below to lap at her throbbing hole.

She mewled in pleasure, her core clenching almost painfully as he dragged his tongue up slowly, then let it fall back down against to clean her. His moans and breathy cries cut his attention short, and with a few more sharp, hard jerks, he finished. Tom buried his cries into her thigh, biting at it loosely.

“Let me feel it,” she asked, her fingers moving to brush through his dark hair. “I want to feel it on my skin, please, Tom…”

With a parting kiss, he hurried to his feet, standing a little shaky, and dirtied her thighs with the last of his cum as it dripped out. His tip was an angry purple by now, peeking out from the soft skin around it that was as pale as all the rest of him. His fist was resting at the root, squeezing, holding it for her. Her eyes went wide at the sight of that small hole at his tip, flexing in its own way to spew his seed out in slow splutters. It landed on her inner thighs and from there dripped down to the floor.

“What a good boy,” she whispered, speaking without even thinking. “You were such a good boy for me, Tom…”

A choked little sound came out of him that almost didn’t seem like him — the part of him he’s shown to her so far. Did Tom have a thing for being praised? Perhaps.

“There’s so much of it,” she smiled, looking — without minding one bit about the mess — at the amount that had plopped onto the floor.

She traced a finger on her thigh, drawing small white circles while Tom caught his breath above her, fist still firm but all forgotten at his root. She looked up at him, her smile widening into a grin, and leaned forward to kiss a bead of sweat off of his stomach. Tom groaned and she felt his muscles tense.

“Do you want more?” he asked cockily.

“Hmm… Not right now.”

He smiled but didn’t hide that he was a little disappointed. It wasn’t lost on her. She reached up to take his hand and held it gently then slowly pulled him down onto the bed with her. With a light bounce, Tom fell onto the mattress limply, his chest heaving up and down just as hers was earlier. As he settled on her bed she got up quickly and before he could ask where she went he heard a click, and the room went dark. She’d just gone to turn the lamp off.

Tom curled up on his side, too lazy to even pull his trousers up. He licked the taste of her off his lips again and sighed, tired and content. From somewhere out there in the dark, she giggled as she approached the bed. Then he felt her breath upon his lower back and barely had time to react before he felt the quick and gentle peck of a kiss on the flesh of his behind.

“What are you doing?” he turned, feeling somewhat scandalised.

“Sorry,” she giggled, sounding not sorry at all. “Couldn’t help it. It’s so round.”

“You’re an animal… Get in bed.”

As silent as a ghost, she slid in beside him, crossing him to get to the other side that faced the wall. She kissed his cheek and tugged the shirt off him, and then his trousers too. Tom groaned but moved to help, rolling onto his back. Then, with still shaking hands, she pulled the straps back up her shoulders and dragged the duvet up.

“So you’ll stay with me tonight?” she gently said, nuzzling his shoulder.

“I guess I can’t refuse you anything,” he said, smiling tiredly.

She grinned and kissed him on the lips, a little peck to wish him sweet dreams, and tucked them both in for the night.

II

Tom dreamed about her. He must have been because he was hearing her voice in his sleep. She was telling him she would come back with him to England — which was strange, as he had never asked her to as far as he remembered — and asked if he’d finished killing him — which he instinctively knew meant the Baron — and then giggled at something that he said — a reaction which made him inexplicably happy.

His eyes opened and it was around now, when he took in her bedroom awash in morning light, that he realised she was talking, but not to him.

Tom was curled up beneath her floral, fluffy duvet in only his white undershirt and trunks. Her bed was soft and there were pillows aplenty, but the duvet was not wide enough for both of them. They had to cuddle… She must have pulled his socks off too at some point because his feet were cold where they stuck out at the bottom.

And he’d been so warm last night… He remembered fragments of it. Her hot cheek on his chest, her arms around him, her breath and her lashes and her soft hair tickling his skin. She’d thrown one leg over both of his and had one hand playing in his hair. She seemed to like it… He was already planning how to style it, just to please her more.

Tom had clung to her embarrassingly tightly, like a child with a favourite toy. His last thought before he fell asleep was that he could feel the smile on her lips.

Without turning his head, his eyes found her.

[biggsodorcitystories]

The Starr Siblings: Shadow of a Father (TUGS AU)

I've seen a lot of new TUGS OC posts on Tumblr recently, which inspired me to make this post.

For anyone new to the Tugs portion of my AU, I should add the following catch-up:

Ten Cents, Warrior, Hercules, Sunshine, and his twin sister (my OC inspired by Salty's Lighthouse) Aurora are the five grandchildren of Captain Starr. They are the children of Captain Starr's adopted daughters: Silver Penny (Hercules Warrior and Ten Cents' mother) and Bright Dawn (Sunshine and Aurora's mother). This would make the twins the cousins of the older three, were it not for the fact that all five have the same father - Theseus Oleander.

I want to give Theseus a proper introduction once I have gotten through the other characters in my AU, as he is set to be the 'Big Bad' for the entire story, above the Z-Stacks, Bluenose, Burke & Blair, and even Johnny Cuba. But his presence is still very much felt within Bigg City, particularly by his five children, none of whom share his surname.

WARNING: MENTIONS OF PARENTAL ABUSE/NEGLECT, AND CHILDHOOD TRAUMAS UNDER THE CUT

Hercules:

As the oldest, Hercules was eleven when his father disappeared out of his life. Since then, he has witnessed the aftermath of his father's actions, from his mother's breakdown, to his younger brother being sent to live with his godparents for a year, to seeing the long-term impact his father's second disappearance had on his aunt and half-siblings/cousins.

The impact on Hercules, however, has been far from insignificant. For reasons known only to himself, Theseus found his eldest son to be a disappointment (read: I haven't completely decided why yet) and was emotionally abusive as a result. Hercules suffers from very severe self-esteem issues, which he hides from all but a few people, and even unwittingly handed out the same kind of abuses to Warrior as a teenager. In recent years, he has been working on these and has made amends with Warrior, but some scars can not heal, and he still struggles with becoming over-attached to his remaining and new male role models. He remembers his father with a toxic mixture of hatred and a strange kind of desire for the father he always wanted.

Ajax/Warrior:

Born eight years after Hercules, Warrior - then called Ajax - was only three when his father left and, as such, has rather fuzzy memories of him. But his initial memories of his father were much happier than Hercules', as Theseus favoured his second son heavily and turned him into a spoiled brat. But little Ajax's world was turned upside down when his father left, leaving him helpless as the image of his father and his teachings were torn apart before his eyes. Luckily, Ajax's godparents - Big Mac and Top Hat - did a lot of work to correct his behaviours and provided him with a vital source of stability that set him right, but he still suffered from the emotional abuse that his older brother unknowingly subjected him to throughout his teens. Ajax - who now goes by his middle name of Warrior - suffers from his own self-esteem issues and a deep-seated fear of being rejected by his remaining family. However, he is probably the most open, accepting, and kindest of the siblings.

Having grown up witnessing the aftermath of his father's presence and learning of the pain his mother, aunt, and two of his brothers experienced as a result of his father, Warrior feels a raw and implacable hatred for his father and has struggled to find any peace or forgiveness for the man.

Ten Cents:

Conceived days before his father's disappearance, Ten Cents is the only sibling whose life is directly untouched by Theseus' influences and was given the surname Starr at birth. Though he grew up without a father, Ten Cents was never short of strong male influences: his grandfather, O.J, Big Mac, Top Hat (though Ten Cents will jokingly deny this one) and later his older brothers and Uncle Patch (Sea Rogue). Therefore, he has always claimed that he never felt the need for a father.

But Ten Cents' largely happy childhood came with the price of his ignorance. Despite their fractured relationship, Hercules and Warrior shielded their baby brother from the worst of it, and his family never told him about his father. So Ten Cents grew up in a protected little bubble under the careful gaze of his family and fleet. Frequently, he has wondered about his father and how it would be to meet him. This would make him the most vulnerable if Theseus would ever return, although Theseus - despite having a paid pair of 'eyes' in the port - has no idea that Silver Penny gave him a third son.

Sunshine and Aurora:

The twins are the result of an affair between Theseus Oleander and his sister-in-law, Bright Dawn Starr. After tricking her with lies and convincing her to run away with him to Newcastle, Bright Dawn fell pregnant with and gave birth to the twins. Despite finally having a long-awaited daughter, Theseus disappeared from the twins' lives when they were less than a week old. But unlike Ten Cents, Sunshine and Aurora didn't have an extended family to protect them and were raised by their mother alone. But Bright Dawn, whose mental health had been deteriorating long before Theseus got to her, was far from a competent mother and would punish the twins for any transgressions (real or imagined) with violence. Aggravated by bullying and abuse for being fatherless outside the home, the twins learned that they only had one another for support and grew up overly dependent on one another, appearing more hardened and older than they should have been.

The twins lot improved when a series of incidents and misfortunes led them to the Starr fleet, eventually reuniting them with their family and finally being able to have a relationship with their mother when she got some help. They even got a new father figure when Bright Dawn reunited with and married her childhood sweetheart, Patrick "Sea Rogue" Teach. They quickly decided to take their stepfathers name once he proved to be the father they needed.

The twins, much like Warrior, hold their biological father in contempt for what he did to their mother and for willingly abandoning them to a childhood of misery and abuse. Sunshine, in particular, holds the most resentment, as the years of abuse he suffered while trying to protect his sister left physical, mental, and emotional scars that only became fully apparent once they were settled and happy. For this, Aurora will throw the blame squarely at Theseus' absent feet.

[thesymphonytrue]

81. “Hold still.” Peter & Neal :)

Hold Still

Read on AO3

For the Drabble challenge here. (pre-canon) Peter groaned and pried open his eyes. The feeling of cold metal against his wrists and a throbbing headache blurred his vision as he tried to make out his surroundings. It was so bright, too bright. Shards of light stabbed his corneas as he shifted his weight, attempting to stand, but his hands were cuffed behind his back. “Woah there, Agent Burke,” a smooth voice said as a hand gently pushed him back against the brick wall he’d been leaning against. Peter squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out that light and tried to place the voice. It sounded familiar but… “This will sting a bit, but I’m almost done,” the voice said again and Peter saw a flash of a smile in the recess of his mind.

Charming grin. Dark hair. Blue eyes that danced with delight. Peter let out another groan as recognition dawned on him. Neal Caffrey. He struggled against the handcuffs again, the fog from his mind beginning to clear. Neal Caffrey had cuffed him, not the other way around. Peter squirmed this way and that, but his still-muddy brain inhibited his movements and he ended up just wiggling back and forth like a worm against the wall. Finally, Neal grasped the sides of Peter’s head, forcing Peter to still, forcing Peter to stare into those blue eyes. “Hold still,” Neal said, cocking his head like he was commanding a dog to “sit and stay.” Peter scowled. Neal’s face was still a bit blurry, but his brows were furrowed in….concern?

"You're a terrible patient, you know that, right?" Neal said lightly under his breath, his fingers nimbly assessing some painful, wet wound on Peter's forehead. “Well you’re…” Peter grunted painfully, “Under arrest.” Neal laughed, bright and clear and Peter’s head erupted in pain as a result. “Ahh Peter,” Neal shook his head, his usually coiffed dark hair falling around his face as he brought his hands up the corner of Peter’s forehead, “If you can catch me after I am done stitching up this head wound, then I’ll come with you to prison fair and square.” Just then, Peter felt a tiny prick and winced, closing his eyes. A little tug on his head, and then Neal sat back on his knees and observed his work, narrowing his eyes and humming to himself. “Just saved you an emergency room trip and from the mob that we were both running from minutes ago,” Neal said, an edge of cocky pride to his voice. Neal clicked open the cuffs restraining Peter, leaning in so close to Peter that his heart pounded and he could smell Neal's cologne. Peter had never been this close to someone he'd chased and not cuffed them.

It was thrilling. Neal tucked the handcuffs into his own pocket, shrugging. “Never know when these will come in handy.” “Hmph,” Peter reached up to find a neat row of three stitches close to his hairline. Neal smiled brightly, eyes dancing as looked at Peter. “You won’t even have a scar,” he said boastfully, light and energy radiating from him. He patted Peter’s shoulder, “See you next time, Peter.” “Caffrey….” Peter bemoaned, trying to stand, but his head was pounding. Neal grinned and bowed politely, “Please. Call me Neal.” And then he was gone, leaving Peter with a throbbing headache, near-perfect sutures, and…a warmth in his chest. Peter smiled, not even angry that Neal had gotten away. Neal had left an aura of sparkling energy, falling to the ground like soft snow and enveloping Peter in light. Since Neal Caffrey got away this time, that meant Peter would see him again. And Peter didn’t seem to have a problem with that at all.

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

Rewind, Remix, & Replay (Bonus) Med 4x4

You can read the rest of the series here

I had so much fun writing this chapter. Something sweet, happy, and horny to break up our string of sadness.

Warning: NSFW content below.

Kim hears the door shut a little too hard, just shy of a slam. It has the potential for just being an accident but when Jay enters the kitchen, she can see the frustration and stress from the way he stands to the clench of his jaw. “I’ll take it, it didn’t go well?” Kim watched Jay move around her to grab a beer from the fridge popping the lid off it and tossing it with a perfectly practiced arch into her trash can.

“I tell Will he has to play nice- be a CI for the Feds. It’s not ideal, I don’t want him to be a CI but Burke is a bad guy. They were going to hold him up if he didn’t. And somehow, he hears an option in it.” Jay leans back against the counter brings up the bottle to his lips, then lowers it before he can take a drink, “He thinks he knows best because he has a fancy medical degree. How long do you think it will take him to realize it doesn’t mean shit in the eyes of the law?”

Kim watched Jay take a long pull of his drink. His sour expression looked out of place in her cheery red and yellow kitchen. Kim hummed listening to him as she continued cutting the veggies for the stir fry. “He has no idea how dangerous this guy is. He thinks it’s all a joke- like I wouldn’t know what I’m talking about, he is the older brother after all- It's not like it’s my job or anything.” He took another sip before looking at Kim’s noncommittal face and deadpanned. “You think differently?” Her brown eyes shot to his as she set down the knife. Her hands came to rest gently against his chest.

“I didn’t say that. It’s just been a rough few months- for both of you. Maybe you are pushing a little too hard and Will needs to decide it is the best thing to do on his own. You Halstead men are pretty hardheaded and don’t like being told what to do.” Jay tilted her head towards her giving her an exasperated look. She tried to suppress her grin by tugging at the open sides of his flannel.

Kim leans forward pressing a few gentle kisses to his neck just above his collar. Her arms slide around his waist slipping between his flannel and t-shirt. He huffed out a breath tilting his head to let her have better access. “Is this supposed to lighten the blow of you calling me out?”

“You’ve just been so stressed baby.” Kim’s hand came around the waist of his jeans, undoing the button with ease, her hand delving in and sneaking under the band of his boxers. “Why don’t you let me help? Let me take care of you?” He groans as her hand wraps around his cock.

“Fuck,” Jay hisses watching Kim drop to her knees in front of him. Her skilled hand pumps his rapidly hardening length. His jeans slide down his hips as her other hand starts pushing them and his underwear down. His dick has barely made itself free of its constraints when Kim’s lips close around his tip. “Fuck, baby.” His beer almost comes crashing to the floor when he tries to set it on the counter.

Kim swirls her tongue around him sucking hard making his hip jerk up and forcing more of him into her mouth. Her tongue doesn’t stop even as she sinks lower onto him bobbing her head. He rests farther against the counter to stabilize himself. His hands combed through her hair to pull it into a makeshift ponytail. She increases her speed and he tugs at her hair wanting her to look at him. Kim's brown eyes catch his looking up through her dark lashes. Her pupils are blown with lust her cheeks flushed. “God, your so damn beautiful on your knees for me.”

Kim sucks harder, her hands landing on his hips. She tugs urging him to thrust into her mouth. It doesn’t take much convincing. Jay starts rolling his hips to meet her gently at first then faster as they find a steady rhythm. Her nails scrape gently against his hipbones he trembles. He leans back on his hand a death grip on the counter and in her hair as he feels his orgasm building.

Kim feels the tremble of his thighs and knows he is getting close. She slows and starts swirling her tongue around his cock more purposefully the blowjob getting sloppier, her saliva dripping from him. She takes him deeper gagging on his length as he hits the back of her throat. It brings tears to her eyes but his guttural curse is sexy and has her pressing her thighs together to get some friction of her own. This time isn’t about her though. She starts to build up speed again, knowing by the flush of his skin and the heavy-lidded eyes that he couldn’t handle much more teasing.

“Oh fuck,” He’s hips stutter losing his rhythm, “Fuck, fuck, baby I’m close.” He warned as he always did. Kim ignored him keeping pace until he came swallowing his release. She licked leisurely at his cock his body trembling and oversensitive. She gave him one last hard suck before releasing him with a pop.

Jay watched in a daze as she licked her swollen red lips. She pressed up to her feet, looking him over before giving him a gentle peck on his lips. “That’s better.” She noted his relaxed posture with an innocent smile. Jay was still catching his breath as she flicked on the stove burner filling the pan on top with the veggies she had cut up.

It had been a while since they had done anything sexual. He just hadn’t been in the mood while trying to process and grieve his father’s death. His head was either too far away or preoccupied by other things. As he thought about it, he realized that they had only had sex once in the three weeks following his dad’s wake.

It had been the night Adam was fighting with Kim. He hadn’t been trying to eavesdrop but Adam was yelling so loud he could be heard downstairs. Jay hadn’t been angry at first just going up there to break up the fight. He didn’t care what Adam thought about him or their relationship. There was history there for them and he knew it could be painful to get through. It was when he had turned his bitter words on Kim, that Jay snapped, charging up the stairs ready to lay Ruzek out. He would have without thought if Kim hadn’t ushered him back down the stairs and to his truck.

Jay still felt the anger pulsating through him when they got back to his apartment. He wasn’t sure who initiated it but soon they were tearing at each other clothes and ended up fucking roughly. Kim pinned against the front door as he pounded into her from behind pinning her hands and bracing them against the cool wood. It had been passionate and possessive. And for Jay a big fuck you to Adam, even if he knew the other man would never know.

Jay pushes himself off the counter, kicking his clothes off his legs. He walks behind Kim one of his hands sliding around her stomach, the other flipping off the burner. “Hey, what-” She cuts off with a shriek as he turns her and throws her over his shoulder effortlessly.

“If you think after that you are doing anything but moaning my name, you’ve lost your damn mind sweetheart.” He heads for her bedroom ready to return the favor and then some.

“Jay, I was just trying to help you relax. I need to make dinner- you really don’t have to-” She moans when he leaves a stinging slap on her ass. She doesn’t have time to react before he tosses her on the bed.

[brokehorrorfan]

Aliens will be released on 4K Ultra HD (with Blu-ray and Digital) on March 12 via 20th Century Studios. The 1986 sci-fi/horror/action film is the first sequel to 1979's Alien.

James Cameron writes and directs. Sigourney Weaver stars with Michael Biehn, Paul Reiser, Lance Henriksen, Carrie Henn, Bill Paxton, William Hope, Ricco Ross, Al Matthews, and Jenette Goldstein.

Aliens has been restored in 4K with Dolby Vision HDR as well as Dolby Atmos and 2.0 DTS-HDMA sound. Both the theatrical and special edition versions are included. Special features are listed below.

Theatrical cut (137 minutes)

Special edition version (154 minutes)

Audio commentary on the theatrical cut by James Cameron and cast and crew

Audio commentary on the special edition by James Cameron and cast and crew

Isolated final theatrical score by James Horner

Isolated original score by James Horner

Introduction by James Cameron

The Inspiration and Designs of Aliens

Superior Firepower: Making Aliens - 11 making-of featurettes

Superior Firepower: Making Aliens Enhancement Pods - 25 supplemental videos

Pre-visualization videomatics with commentary by miniature effects supervisor Pat McClung

Direct access to 16 additional scenes from the special edition

Burke Cocooned deleted scene

Deleted scene montage

Original treatment by James Cameron

11 galleries of stills, storyboards, artwork, video graphics, dossiers, and more

LaserDisc archives

Main title exploration

Teaser trailer

Theatrical trailer

Domestic trailer

International trailer

Ripley, the sole survivor of the space tug Nostromo’s deadly encounter with the monstrous Alien, is found after drifting through space in hypersleep for 57 years. She agrees to accompany a team of Colonial Marines back to LV-426—and this time it’s war.

[thisisadriana4evertugsfan]

⚠️ warning mpreg and 18 ⚠️

[savvylittlecoxswain]

Back at the dock awaited the press, officials, George Pocock, Al Ulbrickson, and the few Washington rowing supporters braving the transcontinental trip to support their crew. Henry Penn Burke, dressed in a handsome white double-breasted blazer fastened around his ample waist, with his cleanly pressed white trousers and perfectly shined black shoes, started the ceremonial program.

Standing with Roger Morris, Charles Day, Gordon Adam, and John White on his right, Robert Moch next to him, and Jim McMillin, Shorty Hunt, Joe Rantz, and Don Hume on his left, Burke started talking about the glory that is crew racing, the fantastic event everyone had just witnessed, and the victory he expected in Berlin. He talked. And talked. And talked. And gestured, smiled, and kept talking. The sun broiled the dock as he held up the ceremonial cup awarded to the nation's top crew. The Husky oarsmen, completely exhausted, started to sway; they had raced without their shirts and now stood bare-chested facing the press and photographers. Burke kept rambling on, praising the Huskies, the Bears, but most especially, his beloved Pennsylvania Quakers. Bob Moch had enough. He reached over and grabbed the handle on the cup opposite the one Burke held. "I gave a little tug on it, on the cup. And it came off— he let go of it," Moch remembered. "He still continued to talk. So we just walked away from it. That's the kind of a guy he was: a blowhard." The oarsmen, then the crowd, and finally the press drifted away as Burke eventually stopped talking and called the ceremony to a close.

— an excerpt from Six Minutes in Berlin: Broadcast Spectacle and Rowing Gold at the Nazi Olympics by Michael J. Socolow

[bruhstation]

I've been thinking about the setting of my TUGS au, the prequel to casa tidmouth, and by extention I began thinking about the show TUGS itself.

it's kind of depressing to know that TUGS is most likely set during the years RIGHT before world war 2. I remember watching a TUGS iceberg video a long time ago, maybe last year-ish. after a series of callbacks and alludes to the little environmental details right at the end of the video, the creator said that the show is possibly not set during the 1920s, but the 1930s, nearing another war period, and that's why I've changed the era of what this AU is set in many months ago.

mitton and cardona claimed that the show is set during the "booming era" of the 1920s, but I can't help but think that maybe the 1920s isn't the most fitting era with how the tone of the show is.

the 1930s setting really does make sense though -- the atmosphere in TUGS is much more, I dunno how to exactly say it, gloomy? serious? it's still a mostly lighthearted kids show, but, to quote some things indirectly from the iceberg video; what's with the munitions? the flammable barges? johnny cuba? the constant mention of broken ships? characters dying right on the screen in such a macabre fashion? burke and blair's whole job? then my mind thought about the star tugs and z-stacks, their relationship and purpose and how it ties to the pre-ww2 feeling of the story.

the conflict between the star tugs and z-stacks isn't fueled by personal grudge against each other. I apologize for comparing TUGS to ttte, but in comparison to its sister series where the engines of sodor have personal banter against each other selfishly, still manage to fool around during their jobs, get into accidents due to their own hubris, and end the day where they learned their lesson, TUGS is much different. they're just there to work and carry through their contracts. they still banter with each other but they know their priorities. they are also driven by their conscience and rationale, not just some "oh he made fun of me so I'm not gonna help him out. I'm bigger and more important so I refuse to do this job and go back to my berth".

zorran dislikes the star tugs but knows that the contracts are much more important and he is willing to work with them if it means the job will be done. top hat, despite his personal distaste for anything smelly, QUICKLY changes his mind about lord stinker and works with him to save the goods engine. zebedee is a character more driven by his personal view on what's good or bad -- he helped the star tugs push princess alice back into place and showed concern when ten cents was pushing the oil barge to the sea, but there's a part of him that's definitely concerned for his own well being.

they have their personal opinions on both their teammates and their rival company's tugboats, but they know better than to let those feelings get in the way. not working means their presence as tugboats will be jeopardized.

these points, added to the very high possibility that TUGS is set during the late 1930s, creates another layer to the overall murkier feeling of the show. the characters know the times are dire. the characters know that they have contracts to go through. they know that something big is coming. they've went through world war 1! with how bluenose and the navy inserted their presence in bigg city port, there's also an idea that there's gotta be at least one character with a sense of foreboding amidst the business.

I also reckon they've grown some kind of fondness (???) for their rival company? it's like when there's a kid at school who keeps annoying you, but next day they're not there and you got a bit worried on where they might be. the two factions don't necessarily like each other, but their rival has formed a place in their normalcy that to get rid of them entirely is not going to do any good, really.

so yeah. that's all I have in mind right now.

[dewitty1]

Fic Recs Wrap Up - July 2023(ノﾟ∀ﾟ)ノ⌒･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*☆

Harry Potter: DILF Hunter by Vukovich @vukovich

Auror Potter doesn’t know what a DILF is, but if Malfoy’s one, then Harry’s gonna be the Ministry’s best DILF Hunter ever! Or, five times Harry heard Draco was a DILF, and one time he found it to be pleasantly true. *All spelling errors are Harry’s, not the author’s. Rec Post

Witness Marks by gryffindorhearts @gryffindorhearts

No one comes to Cogg and Bell’s with a working clock. After all, it’s Draco’s job to repair what’s broken and put time – quite literally – back in order. When Harry Potter waltzes in a few decades after the War, red Head Auror robes flashing, Draco expected to serve as a consultant on a case. Instead, Harry offers him the broken Weasley family clock, and with it, the chance to live in the present for once. Rec Post

Bonded Consort by Lomonaaeren

Nineteen years ago, the Potters betrothed their firstborn child to the firstborn Malfoy child. Eighteen years ago, Voldemort was defeated for good. Seventeen years ago, the Potters changed the contract so that their secondborn child was substituted for their firstborn. Now, Draco Malfoy is trying to work out what happened. Rec Post

Blessed Are The Lambs (Do You Walk With Gabriel?) by Cannibalschism @cannibalschism

It’s been eight years of this. Eight years since the tug that drew Harry like the tide pulls the earth towards the Camerlengo and Vatican City. Eight years since he’d last felt what it was to think freely and not around the wretched, awful din. Eight years since the bars of his gilded cage had slammed shut around him all while the Camerlengo spun the key on his conniving finger. But it was today when Draco Malfoy walked into St. Peter’s Basilica, looking so young as though the years had passed him by, and smelling like pennies and dead leaves. Rec Post

I’ll Play Your Game by JayseHasNoGrace @jaysehasnograce

After quitting the Auror department at the ripe old age of twenty two, Harry Potter finds a nice, uneventful job in an apothecary. At least, it’s uneventful until his old rival Draco Malfoy comes into the shop. They strike up an unlikely friendship, which evolves into an increasingly convoluted scheme, which then snowballs spectacularly out of control into a tangle of lies and blurred lines. They’d agreed to a fake relationship — in Harry’s case, to get the wizarding world to take him off his ‘perfect saviour’ pedestal, and in Draco’s case, just to be given a chance in wizarding society at all — but neither of them expected just how difficult that might really turn out to be. Especially when the stakes grow ever higher, and they both start falling for each other. Just a little bit. Rec Post

Butterflies in Winter by Justlikewriting

Of course Harry had known that Malfoy’d been sent to Azkaban, but, to be honest, since the trials Harry hadn’t really thought of the git at all anymore. A random visit to Slug and Jiggers was about to drastically change that, though. And whose exactly were those letters that Harry found there? Rec Post

You Know the Feeling by iota @iota

Harry waits, but the hex never comes. In the mirror, Malfoy’s eyes dip shut, and he lets out a soft sound that goes right through Harry, heat rising in his body, pushing out against his chest. Malfoy turns slowly, careful not to dislodge Harry’s hand. He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing, then speaks, his voice low. “Don’t start something you won’t finish.” *** Harry’s not sure why he’s started hooking up with Malfoy. Boredom, or the heat of the summer, maybe. Whatever it is, it’s nothing too complicated. Right? Rec Post

Here are a few more fics I've read recently that y'all might like to check out as well! (ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧

Release by maraudersaffair @maraudersaffair

After serving two years in Azkaban, Draco is ready to finally live his life on his own terms. He gets a job at Borgin and Burkes, rents a crummy flat in Knockturn, and begins seeking out fit Muggles to shag. Then one night Draco comes across a gorgeous man who’s tied himself up and stuck a message on the wall for any stranger to read: Free use. And what’s even better? The man resembles Harry Potter.

All Things Go by iota @iota

Draco’s back at Hogwarts by court order. Harry’s back for no particular reason at all. Some things change, some stay the same. Neither expects to spend eighth-year living in close quarters, playing rugby (poorly), staying up late, sneaking around, and finally figuring it all out.

The Inconvenient Death(s) of Harry Potter by nv-md (ANW815) @nv-md

Harry and Draco have spent the decade since the War avoiding each other, even as they’re forced to work together at the Ministry and their friend groups begin to alarmingly overlap. But what happens when Harry meets a tragic end (in a manner of speaking) and Draco’s the only one who can save him? Or Harry won’t stop dying, Draco’s had too much coffee, and there’s more than enough time for them to make a mess of each other’s lives.

Constellations on your skin by shushu_yaoi_lj @orange-peony

“I’m going to get my scars removed,” Draco announces on a rainy Wednesday afternoon. “Who are you seeing?” Blaise asks. “The best Healer out there,” Draco replies with a little shrug. “Harry Potter.”

and the world is tumbling down by thewakeless @thewakeless

Draco is thirty-five and content. He’s a writer, a painter, and has built a life for himself totally separate from the one he envisioned as a sullen, fearful boy at Hogwarts. Everything is calm—until his house begins trying to kill him.

The Cursed Manor by AhaMarimbas

Ophelia’s been a paranormal investigator for almost ten years, and she’s starting to run out of haunted and cursed sites to explore. When her eclectic roommate and assistant reveals that he owns a large, cursed Manor, Ophelia finds a lot more than just a new career opportunity.

the treehouse near primrose downs by softlystarstruck @softlystarstruck

Draco and Harry have been roommates for years, so buying a magical house in the countryside shouldn’t be a big difference. But in between fresh loaves of bread and beds of wildflowers, things start to fall into place.

( •ॢ◡-ॢ)-♡ I hope you enjoy these fics as much as I have! Happy reading, y’all! xoxo, Carey  (◍•ᴗ•◍)♡ ✧*💜💙💚💛❤💗💕💖

[rhettabbotts]

"look what you do to me" with DILF!Rhett and babysitter!reader 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

pairing: dilf!rhett abbott x babysitter!reader

warnings: 18+ only. no smut but rhett’s horny. drinking. making out.

Like a fool, I went and stayed too long. Now I’m wondering if your love’s still strong. Oh, baby, here I am. Signed, sealed, delivered. I’m yours.

You spun around the living room to the sound of Stevie Wonder’s crooning, humming along to the song as you raised the wine glass to your lips. The smooth, fruity wine flooded your tastebuds as you stared at Rhett. His eyes were burning into your own, a fire behind them that made you shiver involuntarily.

“C’mon and dance with me. Please,” you extended the word, practically begging him to get off the couch and join you. It was a Friday, the girls were in bed and Rhett had uncorked your favorite bottle. You were on the right side of tipsy, feeling light and bubbly. Rhett just shook his head and took a sip of his drink, adjusting his position to spread his knees wider.

“Fine. You’re no fun, old man.” You grinned as you saw his eyes squint at the name. As you danced, the skirt of your dress flared out, giving Rhett a quick peek at the lacy underwear that was hidden underneath and it caused his jeans to become much too uncomfortable.

As the song changed and Solomon Burke’s Cry to Me started playing through the speakers, you beamed.

“Oh Rhett, don’t you wanna give me my Dirty Dancing moment?”

He sighed and stood from his seat. You got him. He stalked over to you, cerulean eyes nearly black as he wrapped his arm around your waist. He tugged you close to him, chests pressed against one another.

“I’m no Patrick Swayze.”

He moved you like a flowing river. Like your bodies were completely in sync. His other hand grazed up your arm, fingertips brushing against your neck causing your eyelids to flutter close.

C’mon, c’mon, cry to me.

“You have no idea the affect you have on me. The way I have to restrain myself every time you walk in the room. Look, honey. Look at what you do to me.”

His gruff voice and commanding tone forced your eyes open to take him in. His cheeks were flushed, eyes ablaze, chest heaving. And you could feel his hardening cock against your stomach and it made you keen slightly.

“Rhett-“

He cut you off with a passionate kiss. A kiss that knocked the breathe out of you and caused your knees to go weak and your hands to shake. He walked towards the couch, pulling you along with him, lips never separating and you landed in his lap.

“You drive me pretty crazy too, Rhett.”

“Hard to believe that, Little Tillerson.”

You shut him up with another kiss, fingers tangling into the soft grey hair that adorned his head.