#Brand Management Assignment Help

[hellothetutorshelp-blog]

Brand management assignment help

Brand management is the portion of an association that takes into consideration the inputs from the different departments of the association. While studying this particular content, the university scholars are able to learn a lot about the effects of creating a brand, with which they're able to help a number of different associations from around the world to make sure that they're able to establish themselves well. The assignments relating to this subject need a lot of work and trouble on the part of the scholars, for which they've got to devote a lot of time to the subject. In this situation, these scholars are still burdened with the tons of assignments they've got to complete within a given timeline.This would enable them to understand the subject more in the long run. Thus, concentrating on one particular subject isn't a veritably easy task for the scholars. In this situation, the scholars frequently bear professional backing through which they can gain help and backing for the assignments that they've got to take over so that they're suitable to understand the subject duly and are also suitable to get good marks in the same. In order to do this, we at Make My Assignment Australia provide the scholars with the needed help and support that they need to take over all of their assignments in the most effective manner. This would enable them to understand the subject more in the long run. Problems with Brand Management Assignments Creating a brand and also establishing it in the request isn't an easy job. This is the reason why it's recommended that people who want to produce a brand that is well liked and can be sustained for a long time make sure that they're able to learn about all the tactics as well as the generalities that should be well known so that the brand can also be established in a proper way. Studying all of this can come across as a little too inviting, because of which the different scholars are unable to write the assignments relating to the subject in a much better way. Also, there are a number of effects that have to be kept in mind while bearing assignments, and if instructions aren't followed, there's also a chance of the complete assignment getting cancelled altogether. Thus, a lot of care and attention should be paid to the assignments in this particular subject so as to gain good grades. Need for Professional Help Assignment writing is formerly veritably hard, and making sure that it's done in the right manner and according to the needs of the subject takes it to another level. Thus, scholars frequently seek professional assignment help, with the help of which they would be able to take over their assignments in the most stylish possible manner. This is the reason why they must make use of the services of Make My Assignment Australia so that they're able to get stylish assignment help services at any given time.

[liojack]

What are the Key Topics in Brand Management Subject?

Understanding the definition of "brand" is the first step in managing a brand. It entails making a commitment, making it, and keeping it. It includes determining, establishing, and promoting the brand. Brand management is all about creating and maintaining a brand. Customers become loyal to your company because of your brand. Your items stand out from the competition thanks to a strong brand. It enhances the reputation of your company.

The control of a brand's tangible and immaterial attributes is a component of brand management. If we talk about the product brands, the tangibles may be the product's pricing, packaging, etc. In contrast, the tangibles in the service brands include customer experience. On the other hand, intangible is the emotional connection between the product and service. Branding is the process of combining several marketing mix components into a single entity to establish your identity. It simply involves imprinting your brand identity in the minds of your customers, and it conveys the impression of a seasoned, sizable, and trustworthy company.

When we have discussed the brief overview of brand management, the time has come to proceed further and know what brand management courses are available in Canada. So, let's read the information discussed by the Brand Management Assignment Help professionals.

Courses Available For Brand Management Study

Canada's top-notch institutes teach every single detail regarding branding strategies through their different courses in Brand Management. These short-term courses provide you with the specific knowledge to apply effective brand management strategies to increase the visibility and popularity of the product.

You can pursue a Master's in Brand Management to improve your skills from reputable colleges and universities in Canada. Universities and colleges in Canada provide the opportunity for an internship with reputed industries. This helps students to understand and work on real-time projects. Moreover, Canada offers various job opportunities to brand management professionals in reputable companies. Here are the few top-rated brand management courses in Canada –

Graduate Certificate course in Brand Management

MBA in Brand Management

Postgraduate Diploma in Brand Management

Brand management is necessary for brand visibility and popularity in today's digital world. Earning any of these degrees will help you work as an Assistant Marketing Manager, Growth Marketing Manager, Senior Brand Manager, Brand Manager, etc.

The issue does not end here. While studying brand management courses in Canada, you are required to deal with multiple topics that are frequently covered. Therefore, you must be well-

known for those topics. The Assignment Help Canada professionals list some frequently asked issues for you.

1. From a company perspective, how may brands is built?

2. How can HR management be the driving force behind brand-led culture change?

3. How can multi-brand businesses spanning cultures and locations create their brands?

4. How to analyze and evaluate brand health, including both internally and externally.

5. How to assess and acquire branding returns across the company, presenting the novel idea of employee-based brand image and explaining how it differs from the brand assessment as intangible assets.

Do you know how to answer these questions? If not, you might need Brand Management Assignment Help because here, you will find subject matter experts with vast years of experience dealing with such topics. Let's see how they approach answering the above questions.

1. From a company perspective, how many brands are built?

To provide an adequate answer to the above question, you must include

To begin with, the why, decide on your goals, objectives, and the issue you resolve.

To concentrate on what you want to reach, you must define the target audience.

Create a stated mission that expresses your goals and the value you offer clearly and concisely.

Conduct research and analysis to discover how you vary from your competitors.

Discover the facets of your company or product and the language your customers or clients react to the most.

And a whole lot more!

2. How can HR management be the driving force behind brand-led culture change?

"Successful firms are electing a culture leader under HR, who can play a vital role in bringing people across the business and assertively trying to guide a business culture that seems to fit the organisation's risk tolerance and strategy".

In several firms, the responsibility for culture evaluation and management has alternately been held by everybody and no one, with HR playing a minor role. Yet, when the emphasis shifts to reinventing culture, HR has a unique chance to own this crucial, strategically important, people-related corporate necessity. It may achieve this in five main ways:

To integrate culture with business goals, HR must do both.

The board must convey and embody the culture, according to HR.

Board members must keep an eye on how the culture changes.

Ensure that culture adapts to strategic changes.

HR needs to improve workplace culture.

3. How can multi-brand businesses spanning cultures and locations create their brands?

Globalization has significantly impacted enterprises as a whole. Numerous hypotheses have already been put up to emphasize globalization's positive, negative, and ugly aspects. Several nations from Asia, Scandinavia, the Middle East, and South America have reopened their markets and made the first step in an open market economy in recent years. As would be expected, there have been significant alterations. However, the professionals delivering Brand Management Assignment Help Canada have listed some points that can be taken into account to aspire in cross-cultural settings.

Cultural variations affect branding.

Integrate the brand into the fabric of culture.

Recognize the trends in consumption.

The experts have given you an idea to answer the first three questions out of five. If you are assigned two other topics and need assignment help, reach out to Online Assignment Bank. It is a website providing free assignment samples to university scholars who struggle with their academic tasks. Hence, connect then and bring an end to all your academic concerns.

[opencommunion]

"Like all foreigners, the Jewish settlers sailed first to Alexandria, took a ferry to Jaffa, and were taken ashore by small boats. This mundane arrival at the shore appears in the settlers’ statements as aggressive and alien treatment: ‘Aravim Hetikifu Ottanu’ – ‘the Arabs assaulted us’ – is the phrase used to describe the simple act of Palestinian boys helping settlers to small boats on the way to Jaffa; they shouted because the waves were high and asked for baksheesh [tips] because this was how they managed to live. But in the settlers’ narrative they were assailants. Noise, presumably a normal feature of life in the Jewish townships of Eastern Europe, becomes menacing when produced by Palestinian women wailing in the traditional salute of joy to the sailors returning safely home. For the settlers this was the behaviour of savages, ‘with fiery eyes and a strange garroted language.’ Whether the topic is their language, their dress or their animals, reports back to Europe concerning the Palestinians were all about unpleasantness and weirdness. ... Again and again, Zionist settlers behaved as a people who had been insulted – either objectively in the form of a physical attack, but more often simply by the very presence of Palestinians in Palestine. ... The Zionist settlers instituted retaliation for ‘theft’, which was how they characterised the rural tradition of cultivating state land, a practice that was legal under Ottoman law. Picking fruit from roadside orchards became an act of robbery only after Zionism took over the land. The words shoded (robber) and rozeach (murderer) were flung about with ease when Palestinians involved in such acts were described. After 1948 these terms would be replaced with ‘terrorist’ and ‘saboteur’. ... Cleansing the land of its farmers and tenants was done at first through meeting in the Zionist madafa and then by force of eviction in Mandatory times. The ‘good’ Palestinians were those who came to the madafa and allowed themselves to be evicted. Those who refused were branded robbers and murderers. Even Palestinians with whom the settlers sometimes shared ownership of horses or long hours of guard duty were transformed into villains once they refused eviction. Later on, wherever Israelis would control the lives of Palestinians, such a refusal to collaborate would be the ultimate proof for Palestinian choice of the terrorist option as a way of life. ... Following the 1967 war ... both Israeli academics and Israeli media commonly used the term ‘terrorism’ when referring to any kind of Palestinian political, social and cultural activity. ‘Palestinian terrorism’ was depicted as having been present from the very beginning of the Zionist project in Palestine and still being there when academic research into it began in earnest. This characterisation was so comprehensive and airtight that it assigned almost every chapter in Palestinian history to the domain of ‘terrorism’ and absolved hardly any of the organisations and personalities that made up the Palestinian national movement from the accusation of being terrorists."

Ilan Pappé, The Idea of Israel: A History of Power and Knowledge (2014)

[etfrin]

❝ ִִִִִִִִִִִִִֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶָָָָָָָָָָָָָ doll — coriolanus snow & clemensia dovecote ִִִִִִִִִִִִִֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶָָָָָָָָָָָָָ ❞

☆　Warning: NSFW | threesome, cum eating, pinv sex, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), fingering (f. receiving) | lmk if I forgot something

☆　Pairing: tutor! Clemensia x fem! Reader x tutor! Coriolanus

☆　Summary: headcanons and a drabble for tutor! Clemmie and Coryo <33

☆　A/N: I want them both so deal with it :/

masterlist | navigation | bc: @cafekitsune

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 — you were just an assignment to them at first. They agreed to tutor you because of the extra credits.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 — you weren't cooperative at first. Your eyes filled with annoyance, your words filled with animosity that neither Coryo nor Clemmie knew the reason for.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 — turns out you were always bullied by the rich and privileged so you had already assumed them to be the same.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 — you were proven wrong. Coryo felt sympathy for you, as you both lived in a similar situation. Coryo sneaks out food from the academy to share with you during your solo sessions with him.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 — Clemensia bought food from home to share with you. Bringing in the finest cuisines that you could only dream about eating, you always had leftovers to give to Coryo later.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 — this helped win them plus points with you, and you begin to earnestly pay attention to the lessons. Try your best to impress them.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 — it started with ‘rewards’ Clemmie begins to give you with your good grades. For a C you would get dresses and more, a B would get you makeup and branded perfumes, and an A would get you everything mentioned before along with whatever you wanted.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 — of course, it wasn't because she had grown attached to you and wanted to spoil you to no end. She had begun to like your smiles, and your laughs, the small gasp you made when you did something right. There's no doubt in her mind that you deserved these gifts. It certainly helped that all the clothes were tailored just for you and made you look like the doll you are for her.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 — with Coryo’s financial situation, he couldn't spoil you with lavishing gifts. So he simply manipulated you into craving his praise, his validation instead. When you get something wrong, he looks at you with such disappointment that tears pool immediately but gosh, when you get something right. His blue eyes brighten, his lips pulling up in a smile so radiant that it blinds you, making you unable to see the cold man underneath.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 — soon, both of them realize their feelings for you. However both of them know better than to fight for your attention, they both devise a plan to share their sweet little doll instead. They slowly coax you into a relationship with them. You don't even realize the web of traps you are getting into.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 — the study sessions including both of them increase. You squeeze between Coryo and Clemmie as they teach you. You can't take in air with Clemmie's hot breathing down your neck, making you shiver. Her fingers laced with yours in something that you thought was platonic but was anything but. You couldn't think with Coriolanus so close to you. His lips inches away from yours as he goes on and on about the history of Panem.

How the fuck did he manage to make history sexy was a mystery never to be known.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 — then it happened, you snapped, leaning forward to brush your lips against Coryo. And Clemensia begins to press her lips on your nape. Her arm around your waist, trapping you in like a snake's hold.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 .𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 .𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 .𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖ .

nsfw drabble ahead

It seemed like Clemmie had you trapped between her and Coryo. Her fingers unbutton the silk blouse she had gifted you. Her cold hand now pressed against your bare, hot-to-touch skin. She whispered to you, “My sweet doll. Kiss him back, nice and slow. There you go darling, you're so smart.”

You moan into Coriolanus's mouth as your cunt begins to soak through your panties from Clemmie's words. Coriolanus bites your lower lip, his body pressed against yours. His hands on your face, controlling the kiss, dominating you with no chance of escape. He doesn't break the kiss even when you can feel yourself getting dizzy from the lack of air.

You gasp when he finally does break the kiss. Clemensia by then had already unbuttoned your blouse and unclasped your lacy black bra (also gifted by her). Coriolanus felt his cock throb as he saw Clemmie's freshly manicured hands knead your breasts, making sure to pinch your nipples to get them hard and perky.

You looked like a slut like this. Your lips are swollen, your eyes wide and your body is aroused. He could feel his eyes darken with lust and he leaned down to begin kissing and licking your right breast while he left the left one to Clemensia's mentations.

He sucks your nipple, making sure his tongue swirls around the bud. He pays special attention, nipping the bud occasionally, savoring the cries of pleasure leaving your lips.

Meanwhile, Clemensia was pinching your other nipple, her free hand trailing down your body to free you of your skirt, along with the soaking wet lace panties. She giggles as her fingers swipe at your wet folds. Her digits gather your arousal, all sticky and white. “Taste this, Coryo,” she whispered, interrupting Coryo from putting hickeys all over your chest.

Coriolanus gladly accepts your taste on his tongue, he diligently licks up your juices from Clemensias’ fingers. The sight makes your pussy clench around nothing, a moan of pure want escaping your lips.

“Loosen her up for me, Clemmie,” he said as she pulls out her fingers to begin teasing your pussy again. Clemensia gladly agreed with Coryo. She whispered to you, her lips brushing against your ears, “Next time, I will bring the strap I specifically ordered for you, sweetheart. So it won't be only Coriolanus’ cock you feel next time.”

You couldn't reply anything, not when her fingers began to dip inside your gummy walls. Stretching you out to take Coriolanus's cock. She begins to thrust in her fingers inside your walls, with a gentle pace. Her thumb rubbing at your clit. She crooks her fingers perfectly, her fingertips rubbing at your g-spot, making you see stars as your body jolts from ecstasy.

Coriolanus calms you down with soft kisses on your lips. “She's good at this, huh?” He coos at you, the tip of his tongue catching the teardrops that fall from your eyes. “But you can take it, pet. You're made for us after all. Our doll.” You nod at his words. You would do anything to please them both.

“She’s ready, Coryo,” Clemensia said. She takes her fingers outside of your warm, wet walls and presses her fingertips to your lips until you take her digits inside. You moan around her fingers as your tongue tastes you for the time.

Coriolanus nods at Clemmie's words. He was positioning his cock to your entrance. He smirks at you. “You're gonna take it like a good girl,” he whispered, no, commands you. And with that, he thrusts into you. His cock now kissing your cervix, your pussy pulsating around him and your gummy walls burning from the stretch.

Clemensia eats up your scream, covering your lips with hers as Coryo lets you settle down. You whine, Clemmie's hands holding you down and Coriolanus's hands around your hips, gripping so tight that bruises would bloom soon.

It doesn't take long for Coriolanus to begin to roll his hips, his dick pounding into your heat without care for your pleasure. Meanwhile, Clemensia's hands roam all over your body, pinching and kneading the flesh. Her lips never leave yours. She occasionally leaned back whispered praises about how good you are, and how much she will stretch you out with her strap, and how good she will eat you after this. Each of her filthy fantasies had your cunt clenching around Coryo's cock and he groans, his lips attaching themselves to your pulse point on your neck.

He doesn't pay you or Clemensia any attention, fucking pussydrunk he was, merely chasing his pleasure from your cunt. With Clemmie's constant praises, her hands worshiping you, and Coriolanus sucking the darkest hickey on your skin, his cock stroking your walls, his cockhead grazing your spongy spot inside your walls with every thrust.

It didn't take you long to have your eyes roll back, your body turning into jelly. Coriolanus groans as his thrusts turn sloppy. He cums inside of you with no warning, his body falling on top of you as he gasps. He whines, “Such a good girl. Such sweet cunt, that's my doll.”

Clemmie chuckles, looking at your fucked out state. She was going to have fun with you as soon as you gained some energy. And she tells you exactly that as she gets up to bring you and Coryo glasses of water.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 .𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 .𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 .𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 .𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚

Current tag list: @stelleduarte @nowitsmissing @lifeonawhim @le-lena @dollfacedalls @motley-baby @champomiel @slytherinholland @randomstuff2040 @justacaliforniandreamer @emmalinemalfoy @hyuk4s @theamuz @watercolorskyy @littlebiwitchsworld @eir964

@skywalker1dream @darkangelkathiecookiesmith @ben-has-arrived @bucksdonkey @xyzstar @ellie-luvsfics @sunny-deary @daughter1of2anita3dearly @eir964 @nowsyhozey @ayaya-aa @serving-targaryen-realness @hansbasement @louweasleymalfoy @lettersandwhiteroses @arzua10 @wotcherpeak @ever8ea @daughter-of-the-stars11 @blippys-blog @iguanagwen @moonlight-by-the-sea @snowlandstop @badbleep88 @hobireasns @floswife @weeeoosworld @ludasgf

@sushirolliee @poppyflower-22 @dilucpegg3r @sleepysongbirdsings @cupids-scream-queen @fyhhuu

[avis-writeshq]

pairing: early seasons!spencer reid x sunshine!fem!reader genre: fluff, pining, best friends to lovers warnings: reader struggles growing her nails out, reader gets her nails done. vietnamese women are the best at doing nails i swear (also if you get the reference you win another kiss) wc: 1.08k

Spencer thinks you deserve all the best things in life. There are various reasons for this but the one that sticks out to him the most is that fact that you have always been exceedingly kind to him. You have always listened to him when he talks and never once tried to belittle him for any of his interests. A part of him thinks that it’s because your ages are so similar. Another part of him thinks that you’re just pitying him. He truly hopes that isn’t the case. 

He makes you your coffee in the mornings. He knows how you take it– which milk you prefer, the amount of sugar. He has even gone as far as to buy your favourite instant coffee brand– the kind that are unreasonably expensive and have to be bought through a weirdly sketchy website despite its raving reviews. He remembers the way your eyes lit up as you held the familiar box excitedly and he can’t help but preen at the memory. 

“Thank you for coffee, Spence,” you chirp as you spy your unofficially assigned mug on your desk. You’re wet from the rain, the shoulders of your coat darkened from where your umbrella has dripped water onto it. “Hotch would’ve killed me if I had to spend another five minutes at the kitchen. It’s not my fault my train came fifteen minutes late.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, watching as you shake your hair away from your face before warming your hands with the mug. “I did tell him that there was a correlation between rainy weather and increased train delays which could have been a reason that you were late.”

You smile, clearly amused, asking, “how did he take it?”

“He pointed out that I’m still earlier than the rest of the team,” Spencer responds sheepishly, his cheeks growing pink. “I planned my train route for when the rain would be the least heavy.”

“I should follow in your footsteps,” you muse, sipping at your coffee and sighing in relief. “You always make this better than me.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he murmurs, his hand brushing against his scarf. “I was– um, I was wondering if you wanted to get lunch together later?”

You laugh softly and he relishes in the sound. “I only just got here and you’re already asking about lunch?”

He feels his cheeks glow hotter as he scrambles to explain himself. “Well– usually– uh, JJ usually asks you so I guess I wanted to ask before she did. And you have lunch with Garcia a lot so I thought I should ask when you get here and– sorry, is that wrong?”

“No, of course not,” you assure, beaming. “I’m touched that you think that I’m so popular that you need to book an appointment with me.”

“You are popular?” He says it like a question because a part of him is genuinely baffled that you don’t realise how well liked you are. He has found that you always manage to command the attention in the room and he has seen first hand the way people would be instantly drawn to you. He finds that he is no different. 

“I promise you that I am not as popular as you believe I am,” you say with another laugh. “I’m flattered though, truly. I’d love to have lunch with you.”

Spencer cannot stop smiling.

*** 

“You’re whipped.”

Spencer shoots JJ a look, his cheeks glowing hot with embarrassment. “I am not whipped.”

“You have been staring at her talking to Officer Deetmore for the past six minutes and twenty seven seconds,” she points out, her eyes narrowing. 

“They’re probably just making small talk.”

Emily shrugs from her desk, mixing her cup noodles around. “I don’t know, I’m surprised that she can hold a conversation with someone so intellectually disinclined.”

JJ snickers. “You’re just mad that he mislabeled a file and spread the profile.”

“Intellectually disinclined.”

“Guys,” Spencer pleads, inconspicuously gesturing to you saying your farewells and already heading in their direction.

You’re smiling although it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Your arms are folded over your chest, a classic sign of discomfort, and your hands are tucked into your armpits. “Hey. What’s going on?”

“Are you alright?” Spencer asks instead of answering, soft enough as not to call attention to your little group. “What’s wrong?”

“Hm? Oh. I broke a nail.” You show him briefly– your natural nail has split at the corner just where they’re gaining length. “I’m a little bummed. It caught on the zipper of my go-bag.”

“Do you want to get your nails done after the case?” He asks, brows furrowing. “I have a nail clipper and file in my bag.”

JJ can’t help but be amused at this new fact. “You have a nail care pack in your bag? What, do you just take it around with you everywhere?”

He shrugs, ignoring the slight jab, pulling out the little pack from his satchel and handing it to you. He is well aware that you take pride in what you look like, especially your nails. You’ve told him the reason before, that your school was so strict that they wouldn’t let anyone grow their nails long and if they did they would be cut short by the nurse. He thinks that it’s borderline abuse. 

“Manicures are expensive,” you murmur, your eyes downcast as you focus on clipping each of your nails to an equal length. “Are we even allowed to have our nails done?”

“Federal Enforcement Resources states under grooming guidelines that ‘Makeup (including fingernail polish and artificial nails) may be worn by employees but must be professional and must not interfere with the proper use and handling of equipment necessary for their assigned duties’,” Spencer provides helpfully. “I can pay for your nails, too, if price is the issue. The bakery I buy my banh mi from has a nail place next door. I’m sure I can get a discount.”

You laugh as you file down your nails into a smooth edge. “You want to pay for my nails?”

“Oh, um, yeah.” He nods, cheeks suddenly hot and he wipes his palms on his slacks. “If you’d let me.”

“Gosh, well, at least take me out to dinner first, Spence.” You say it with jest, your eyes lighting up with mirth.

He doesn’t seem to catch your joking tone, nodding in earnest. “Alright. After the case, how does Saturday sound? I can pick you up at 6?” 

Emily and JJ are all too pleased. 

reblogs are always appreciated !!

[violet-butterflies]

❥︎ yandere! CEO headcanons

❥︎ Warnings ! ☞︎︎︎ stalking, obsessiveness, lovesickness, overprotectiveness ( female yandere! oc x gn reader )

☞︎︎︎ yandere! CEO who is at the peak of her career! She's got money, the looks, and a thriving fashion brand but no lover :(

☞︎︎︎ yandere! CEO who hires you as her new secretary! Amazed at your amazing work ethics that never fails to disappoint her.

☞︎︎︎ yandere! CEO who realizes that you work too hard. Jeez, she just gave you that report assignment last night and you've already finished it?! And you even managed to perfectly schedule the next two months' worth of meetings and appointments? Do you even sleep?!

☞︎︎︎ yandere! CEO who slowly falls in love with you. You were simply so simple and cute that she can read you like a book! Not only that, it's always so cute to see you get flustered when she gets a tad bit too close to you!

☞︎︎︎ yandere! CEO who begins to ask you to personally model for the clothes she designs. Oh, that dress? Yea, It's made to your size because I want you to try it! That suit? No matter if you wear it and I'll see if it needs anything. Oh, that lingerie? PLEASE do wear it! For research purposes of course... takes a quick picture

☞︎︎︎ yandere! CEO who wants to keep you as her personal little model! She just simply doesn't get how everything she makes just fits you so well! You might as well keep all the clothes she makes and make sure you wear them all the time! Why wear any other brand when you practically have a personal fashion designer!

☞︎︎︎ yandere! CEO who can't help but feel mortified at how boring your life is. Do you really just go to work and home? She has never seen you go out to do any errands! Even your wardrobe only consists of old t-shirts for inside the house and work clothes! She feels bad taking some of your clothes since you don't have many to begin with...

☞︎︎︎ yandere! CEO who dedicates her whole life to making your life so much easier. Every month she'll make sure to always give you a hefty bonus. Any coworkers that made you sigh or are a minor inconvenience in your life? They all can say goodbye to their careers!

☞︎︎︎ yandere! CEO who just can't get enough of you even after she clocks out of work. When you two were off on a business trip, she hires a few people to put some hidden cameras everywhere around your tiny apartment. No, it's not stalking silly! She's only making sure that she can provide you with everything you'd need! If you need anything, she'll happen to give you that exact thing the next day!

☞︎︎︎ "y/n I just so happen to have a spare laptop that I don't need! Oh, your laptop broke yesterday? Wow, what a coincidence! You can use this one!"

[johnbrand]

Breeder Boy

Adam hoisted the suspenders up slowly, his mind numb as he went through the motions of tightening each strap around his shoulder blades.

“Yeah, that's a good boy,” his best friend Isaac affirmed from behind. “That's my good, obedient breeder boy.”

Adam blinked. He could not remember why Isaac had taken to him after college. The two were practically opposites back then. Isaac was a popular lacrosse player with girls constantly at his side. Adam had been a data analytics nerd who had only managed to kiss one boy in his entire life. And it had been an accident. Their social circles would have never intercepted if it had not been for the Intro to Psychology course they had both taken as an elective.

They had been paired as partners in a simple project exploring different subsects of therapy. Adam and Isaac had been assigned with hypnotherapy, although going in it had been obvious which one of them was actually going to do the work. That was until Adam explained to Isaac what their subject was. The nerd had been shocked to see the jock’s sudden enthusiasm for the subject. Inspired by Isaac's curiosity, Adam had tried his best to answer every question Isaac posed to him.

"You are about to have one of the best days of your life.” Adam stood still as Isaac’s arms dropped around his head, a black bowtie ready to encircle his throat. “You will smile, laugh, maybe even cry at the sheer beauty of your woman. The ceremony and reception will be branded into your memory forever.”

Adam gulped, his face still emotionless as he tried to process everything. It was like his life had changed after meeting Isaac. After that project, they would be together almost all the time. Whenever Isaac was not at practice, partying, or getting laid, then he would be with Adam. At first, Adam did not understand the sudden friendship that emerged between them, but Isaac had told him to disregard it. In fact, there were a lot of things Isaac had told Adam to forget about.

While it had been too late to completely change his major, Isaac had reasoned with Adam that an accounting degree would be much more beneficial than his current computer sciences. That way, by focusing on business, he would have more time to do what he and Isaac loved, sports. Adam had protested at first, but after Isaac’s well-crafted arguments, his opposition was cleanly dismissed. 

After graduation, Isaac was able to spend even more time with Adam. The two often discussed so many different topics that Adam could not quite remember everything they had covered. It was strange how Isaac, someone he had known for only a tiny portion of his life, had known more about Adam than even Adam did. Isaac had clarified early on that he had understood Adam’s wants, goals, and needs. Isaac had joked that Adam should just forget about his former aspirations, as he knew them better anyway.

“Yup, don't resist it…atta boy,” Isaac praised as he secured the bowtie. Adam fidgeted with his ring, the cold metal foreign to his formerly naked finger. 

“That feels good, doesn’t it?” Isaac took notice. “You like knowing you're about to be married to a woman. You like that I helped you become an alpha male. You like to submit to the patriarchy and uphold the traditional masculine supremacy.”

Adam said nothing. It had been just over five years since they had first met. Five years since Isaac had begun reshaping his life, and where was he now? At 27, Adam was a successful businessman at a firm downtown, often working with clients beside Isaac. Adam now enjoyed lacrosse, tennis, and frequent pickleball. Adam spent mornings at the gym and evenings at the bar. And right now, he was about to marry his girlfriend of almost two years, the woman he had fallen in love with and was preparing to dedicate his life to.

“Just think, back in college you were nothing more than a faggy partner for what I thought would be a blow-over of a psych class.” Isaac, his best man, brimmed with excitement. “Now you’re worthy of being a man, a real man, who’s gonna slide that straightened cock into a fertile, tight pussy tonight."

“And at the heart of it all," Isaac sneered. "you were the one who began this whole thing. My good breeder boy.”

Adam blinked. Butterflies bounced around in his stomach as he tossed the suit jacket over himself. He was excited and nervous as he approached the doors, one of the the best days of his life beginning he entered into the church hall.

"Looking good, man!" Isaac cheered before whispering. “And don’t forget, that baby you're making tonight should be named Isaac.”

Adam chuckled. Isaac had been his best bro, had known more about Adam than he himself had after all. That honor only felt right.

[summershouto]

The Hc that Sanji has a small 3 tattoo from Germa BUT he wasn't even aware of it

all of the Vinsmoke kids were tattooed according to their corresponding numbers at a very young age. Young enough that there’s no memory of actually getting the tattoo

Sanji's is very small and the ink was his Germa assigned color yellow, which makes it blend in with his skin a bit. The numbers were printed small and thin to remain inconspicuous. After all, the kids all have noticeable differences, so the tattoos were more of a formality, an insurance, rather than a functioning identifier. essentially the numbers can go unnoticed without careful inspection— and there would be no reason for the kids to analyze their own backs

luffy is the first person to comment on it. he has a knack for catching small details, especially when it pertains to his crew. Maybe he spots it when Sanji is changing or it catches his eye after a shirtless sanji rescues him from the water. Either way, Luffy curiously asks about the mark on Sanjis back. Sanji has no idea what he’s referring to so he dismisses it as another weird Luffy comment and Luffy moves on to something else catching his interest

Chopper is the one who actually tells Sanji about it. After he performs surgery on sanjis back, he informs him that his tattoo was not damaged in any way from his injury or operation. This time Sanji freezes. He has questions- after all Chopper is a medical professional and has no reason to make up stories or ask random meaningless questions. Chopper uses a mirror to show sanji exactly where the tattoo is placed on his back and Sanji goes silent once he realizes what it is and where it must have come from

Chopper is curious about how Sanji ended up with a tattoo he has no memory of, but Sanji waves him off with a lie about getting drunk and entering a tattoo parlor. Chopper respects Doctor-Patient confidentiality of course, so he never brings up the mysterious tattoo again.

Sanji goes to great lengths to keep anyone else from seeing the tattoo. In the bunk room he changes with his back to the wall and in the bath he sinks deeper into the water. No one will ever see his exposed back again.

When he’s alone, Sanji looks at very little else. He quickly learns the best way to position himself to study his reflection. He stares long enough to memorize his own back. He learns he has a few freckles dotted along his spine, his shoulder blades stick out slightly more than average, and of course he knows just how striking the color yellow can be. His eyes are drawn to the mark like a magnet and at times he can practically feel it burning into his skin

He hates it. It’s a direct link to his past- the one he was told to never speak of. It’s like Germa is mocking him… yet he also feels conflicted by it. He rejects Germa, but he can’t help but wonder what his younger self would have thought about being forever marked as one of them. He wonders if it would have made accepting his banishment harder. He wonders if Judge even remembers that the tattoo was given to him.

In the end he manages to push it aside like he does with all of his other Germa memories. Even if it disturbs and sickens him whenever he remembers what is printed on his back, he moves forward.

Until Whole Cake of course. It’s a cruel reminder that Sanji had never actually been free; that he’d been branded as theirs since birth and his years after escaping their clutches was only borrowed time.

(Until Luffy reminds him that freedom is something he will always ensure for his friends. He reminds him that Sanji has never been one of them.)

Back on Whole Cake when Sanji sees Reiju again he asks her about the tattoos; if she knew of their existence. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised when she stares at him blankly and says she always knew.

[blurredcolour]

In The Bleak Mid-Winter

[One-shot]

Ronald Speirs x Nurse!Female Reader

No good deed goes unpunished, but your reassignment brings with it an unexpected reward.

Warnings: Language, Weapons, Canon Typical Violence, Smoking, Treatment of Wounds, Medical Procedures, Hospital Settings, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes [unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex - m/f receiving, fingering, cum eating] - 18+ ONLY

Author’s Note: This was written entirely on my phone as my laptop is in for emergency repairs - I hated the experience, and apologize if there are any formatting issues or a surplus of typos. Also, I made some distinct narrative choices in writing this but I won’t burden you with them up front. They’re in the post-script if you’re interested! This is a work of fiction based off the actors’ portrayal in the HBO series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life persons mentioned within.

Word Count: 6171

————————————-

December 29, 1944 - Bastogne

“Fifty surgeries in two days with only three deaths. It is nothing short of a miracle. I’m halfway through a report recommending you all for a medal....and then I come to find out you landed in the middle of an encircled town on an unpiloted glider, through all manner of artillery fire, with a goddamn woman?! A woman!”

Your bleary eyes focused on the lit end of the cigarette pinched between the index and middle finger of your right hand, the icy caress of the north wind howling between the tent and the garage outside the Bastogne barracks one of the only things keeping you awake. Weary from nearly forty-eight hours of surgery, it would have been difficult to stay awake under normal circumstances, but the mortification you felt as General McAuliffe screamed at Major Dorward behind thin walls of canvas was certainly helping keep you on your aching feet in the ankle deep snow.

Bundled tightly in your great coat, collar turned up against the wind, face buried into the olive drab scarf around your neck, helmet protecting your head, the only bit of exposed skin was that hand you were straining to focus on. The other was deep inside your pocket, balled into a fist. You were vaguely aware of various people darting through the barracks yard behind you, making their way to and fro, loading vehicles, delivering men to the now-central clearing station since the bombing of the cathedral the day before your arrival. Covered as you were, you were barely indistinguishable from an ordinary soldier, yet the General had managed to find out your secret nonetheless.

“I have every faith that she can handle herself out here sir, there was no more qualified surgical assistant to accompany us.”

“But she is not a surgical assistant, Major, is she?! She’s just a nurse! A nurse whose life you endangered by sneaking her aboard that glider! I ought to have you court martialed!!!”

The General did have a point, hidden though it was within the avalanche of vitriol he was sending the Major’s way. You were in fact no more than a surgical nurse - assistants were enlisted men. But during your third or fourth surgery with the Major, right after D-Day, a brand new surgical assistant had been assigned to the operating room and not five minutes in had fainted to the floor.

With the patient in a life threatening position you had stepped forward to fill in the gap and ensure no impact to care or outcome. It had been the start of a very effective working relationship as the 12th Evacuation Hospital made its way across France behind the advancing American army.

Thus when Major Dorward had volunteered for this assignment, and asked if you would consider joining him, your only hesitation was born of the concern for the hell you two might catch. The hell he was in the very midst of catching right now.

You hissed at the sudden pain as the lit end of the cigarette met your flesh and quickly flicked it into the snow, not having taken one puff. When General Nuts himself had stormed into the tent, eyes blazing, the Major had sent you outside in the early dawn light with the lit cigarette and his rifle for protection. It had rather felt like you were your own firing squad, though the Major was most certainly the one under fire at the moment.

The creak of boots in the nearby snow, much closer than all those that had passed by before, made you jump slightly. You turned quickly to see an exhausted soldier, eyes bleached a pale grey in the now-brilliant morning sunshine. He looked cold, and exhausted, as all the men you’d run into here did. His face was handsome, though, lashes luxuriously long for a man carrying a Thompson submachine gun. He held out a pack of cigarettes to you, offering you a new one to replace that which you’d mistakenly allowed to burn out and you shook your head before extracting your face from its position nestled deep within your scarf.

“I don’t actually smoke, please don’t waste any of your cigarettes on me, soldier.” You smiled weakly, watching as his eyes widened a fraction before the General’s voice somehow rose even further in volume to respond to something the Major had said.

“I don’t give two shits if she can transplant heads, the risks involved were unacceptable, Major, and believe me you have not heard the last of this! Your surgical record over the last two days has been impressive, but this was utterly reckless!”

The soldier’s eyes flicked to the tent then back to you as everything surely came together in his mind and you looked down at the outline of yourcombat boots buried in the snow, wondering if it was too much to ask for the ground to open up beneath you and swallow you whole. You heard the tent flap flutter and tensed in anticipation of the General’s departure, but instead a gunshot rang out from across the clearing beyond the barracks, the snow scattering at your feet.

Strong arms yanked around your waist and pulled you back behind the shelter of the tent and the pair of you quickly lay flat in the snow, unmoving, barely breathing. The harassment from the enemy had been almost constant from the moment the glider had entered occupied air space and that, combined with any and all abilities you might possess being questioned by the General simply because of your gender, had you feeling rather enraged.

Pulling Major Dorward’s rifle from your shoulder, you crawled on your elbows to cautiously peer around the corner of the tent across the meadow and into the tree line beyond. Nothing moved. Years spent stalking deer at your father’s side had taught you patience, and how to aim the rifle in your hands. It seemed the former would not be required as a soldier came blithely walking out of the garage-turned-operating theatre completely unaware that there was a sniper.

The soldier at your side gestured at him violently - you could feel the movement of his body where his hip was still pressed against your leg, but it went unnoticed. Another shot rang out.

“Holy shit!” The man wailed as he darted back inside, a shower of brick dust audibly hitting the snow somewhere to your rear. The sniper was clearly lacking in talent, but you were focused on the movement in the coniferous tree to your two o’clock.

Exhaling slowly you squeezed the trigger and there was a hoarse shout followed by the sound of a body tumbling through cracking branches and ending in a sickening thud.

“Trying to kill my goddamn patients.” You muttered bitterly under your breath and carefully sat up, looking back to the soldier as he exhaled slowly.

He was eyeing you, expression intense and inscrutable, but your gaze was drawn to the gap at the collar of his ODs where you could see fresh blood oozing from a poorly bandaged wound at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, staining his wool shirt just below below his silver 1st Lieutenant’s insignia.

“You’re bleeding, Lieutenant.” You said quickly, pushing on his hip to encourage him to roll over so you might kneel at his side for a better look, pleased when he immediately complied.

You laid the rifle in the snow next to him and pulled the bandages away, frowning deeply to see lingering splinters of wood in the wound. As you carefully probed at them he hissed and you tensed, quickly apologizing.

“It’s nothing, ma’am, I’m fine.”

The tent flap opening and closing followed by heavy footfalls in the snow signalled the arrival of General McAuliffe on the scene.

“Everything alright, Lieutenant?” He asked quickly and the man below you nodded quickly.

“Just some shrapnel from a tree burst, sir.”

You looked up to the General slowly, watching his eyes land on the rifle at the Lieutenant’s side before glancing across the clearing.

“Good. Well done with the sniper, son.”

The Lieutenant shifted uncomfortably but you nodded quickly, helping him sit up. “An impressive shot, sir.” You added.

The General’s eyes fell on you, still full of that heated rage, but apparently he’d run out of words to say on the subject of your unwanted presence for he simply turned and made his way back towards the barracks.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, Lieutenant.” You turned back to him, the coppery tang of blood on the air focusing you like nothing else seemed to be able to.

Working your way to your feet, you picked up the abandoned rifle before leading him into the tent. Major Dorward looked up from some papers on his desk, opening his mouth but closing it quickly as you were followed by the Lieutenant.

“Tree burst shrapnel, sir.” You announced in your easy working shorthand.

“Damn Nazis have weaponized the forest. Have a seat, soldier.” He stood and offered his chair, walking over to the stash of supplies to fetch a field kit and bandages for you as you set the rifle on the cot in the corner, putting your helmet down beside it. “Ah my apologies, trooper.” He amended.

You turned back to see the distinct jump boots with bloused trousers now that the Lieutenant was seated and smiled. “I apologize as well, Lieutenant. I missed that outside.”

You worked his ODs and wool shirt open to began carefully cleaning his wound, leaving him in his undershirt in the chill of the tent.

“Doesn’t seem you miss much, Nurse.” He looked up to you as he spoke softly and you swallowed thickly as you noted his eyes were actually hazel, with flecks of gold around his pupils.

Mercifully Major Dorward broke out into rich laughter and shook his head. “That she doesn’t.” He commiserated affectionately from his newfound seat on the cot.

“Let me guess,” you murmured to the man seated before you as you gently worked out the last few splinters of wood that had escaped initial treatment, “you also told them this was nothing at the aid station because there were men there whom you considered hurt worse than you.” You glanced to his face as his lips twitched a little. “This could have become a real problem, Lieutenant, I’m glad you came over to offer me a cigarette.”

Turning back, you called the Major over to double check your work.

“Wound is clean and ready for bandaging.” He nodded after looking it over. “When you’re done I suggest you try and sleep. We’re driving out as soon as the truck is ready and the ride out will be about as relaxing as the flight in.”

“Understood, thank you Major.” You nodded as he stepped out of the tent to light a cigarette. You carefully lay some gauze over the crook of the Lieutenant’s shoulder before wrapping some bandages around his neck and under his armpit to hold it in place. “This should heal nicely in a week or so if you can do your best to keep it dry for me…” you trailed off as your fingers found the hole in his ODs.

Casting about the tent, your eyes landed on a tattered blanket in the corner and you began fashioning a patch, whip stitching it into place over the gash in the fabric. “That ought to do it.”

“Thank you, Nurse.” He murmured, looking up at you before he stood slowly, buttoning up his shirt and ODs with practiced efficiency.

“Take care of yourself, trooper.” You nodded, watching him step out, hoping against hope that he would be alright out there.

General McAuliffe proved to be a man of his word, which in retrospect was of no surprise to you whatsoever. The hellish ride out of Bastogne in the back of a truck on the only opened road, with the sounds of battle still raging on either side, took you to Orval where you received orders to report to the 60th Field Hospital there while the men from the 12th would return to the Evacuation Hospital you’d been stationed with since before June 1944. You had been informed your personal effects would arrive at a ‘later date.’

Nuts, indeed.

You worked in Orval for nearly a week, surrounded by unfamiliar faces, wearing the same clothing day-in, day-out, until the 60th was relieved and pulled back to Mourmelon-le-Grand. As promised, your belongings were waiting for you there, in the iron grip of a dour-faced Chief Nurse MacDonald who was only too happy to put a ‘reckless, insubordinate’ Nurse like you in her place at the 123rd Station Hospital.

What followed was a grueling month of scrubbing and refitting the near derelict buildings abandoned by the Airborne when they were abruptly called to the Ardennes. By the time the place was worthy of being called a hospital, you had managed to become at least friendly with your new colleagues, though they remained suspicious after your filthy and unceremonious arrival.

By mid-February, a tent city began to spring up around the base, heralding the impending arrival of troops from the front. And with them came all manner of cold weather maladies - pneumonia, trench foot, frostbite. Working on the general ward now, you could only eye the surgical nurses with envy, knowing your skills were going to waste emptying bedpans and changing bandages and that you had no one to blame but yourself.

Stubborn in all things, however, you worked without complaint, often being rewarded with more work or the worst assignments because your superiors knew you would complete any task with efficient silence. It was precisely this combination that saw you assigned to the night shift, a small mercy in that the vengeful Chief Nurse would never deign to work such hours, allowing you to develop a new working relationship with Captain Munro, MD.

“Nurse might I borrow you a moment?” He interrupted you as you stepped away from the bedside of a postoperative patient and you quickly nodded, following him off the ward and down the hall to his office. “I’m up to my eyeballs in trench foot but there’s an officer in here, seems he lacerated his hand helping one of his men climb out a transport - quite stubborn. Whether or not it needs sutures I am confident you can determine…” he exhaled, clearly exhausted from working a double shift as he came to a stop outside the door. “Is it alright if I leave this one in your capable hands? You’ll find everything you need in the cabinet.” He looked at you pleadingly, eyes underscored by dark bags of fatigue as he held out the chart and you nodded quickly.

“Certainly sir, please don’t worry about a thing.” You smiled softly at the relieved slump of his shoulders before he nodded firmly in thanks, dashing off down the hall to no doubt deal with another man’s beleaguered feet.

You glanced over the chart of Captain Ronald Speirs quickly before knocking on the door, giving the man some warning, before you stepped inside. You tilted your head to see the Captain with his back turned to you, halfway back into the worn jacket of his ODs, appearing quite prepared to leave.

“Just a moment please, Captain Speirs, I would like to take a look at your hand, sir.” You said softly, eyes widening as the man turned around swiftly, arms still slightly akimbo, to reveal the very same Lieutenant whom you’d bandaged that morning in Bastogne. Who’d saved your life, and watched you take out a sniper with barely a comment.

His eyes were fatigued, his hair grown long. He clearly hadn’t seen a razor in quite some time and yet you were struggling to recall a moment when you’d found a man so attractive in your entire life. You suddenly felt acutely self conscious in your white and brown seer sucker hospital dress with brown cotton stockings and cardigan to match, nursing cap pinned in your hair.

“It’s nothing ma’am, I’m fine.” He repeated himself word for word and you bit the inside of your cheek, having a hard time deciphering if he was joking or just built that obstinately. You did not miss, however, the slight rasp in the back of his throat.

“Good, let’s keep it that way, shall we Captain?”

You gestured for him to sit in the chair he’d surely recently vacated and carefully took the one across the corner of the desk from him, holding out your hand expectantly. As he set the back of his left hand in yours, you frowned at the laceration along the side of his palm. Captain Munro had been right, it really was borderline in need of suturing.

Laying his hand on the desk gently you stepped over to the cabinet to collect the necessary supplies, deciding to play it safe. You could suture quickly enough - the man clearly needed to get some rest and you did not want to keep him from it. While swiping his palm clean with an iodine wipe you glanced at him as he cleared his throat.

“I didn’t think you were assigned here.” He commented quietly.

You shook your head ruefully as you unpacked a tube of pre-threaded sutures with a curved needle. “I wasn’t until very recently. I used to be assigned to the 12th Evacuation Hospital but after my…behavior it was deemed necessary to reassign me.”

“I said nothing, I swear.” He replied quickly, brow furrowing and you could not help the smile that pulled at your lips.

“I believe you, Captain. Heaven knows where I’d be if you had.” Gently positioning his hand on the desk top, you smoothly rotated the curved needle through first one edge of his cut and then the other, looping the length of it around your forceps twice before pulling the end through to create a square knot.

You repeated two more casts before snipping the ends of the suture, looking to him sharply as he let out a rattling cough. “How long have you had that cough, Captain?”

“Few days…” he replied evasively and you hummed disapprovingly.

“If it doesn’t go away in a couple of days, you should come back and see me.” You spoke as you began the next stitch.

“And if it does get better?” He asked quietly, watching your careful work.

“I’ll be here all the same.” You replied, pressing your lips together as you fought another smile at the thrill that unfurled in your stomach.

“Whom should I ask for?” His voice came out particularly gravelly and he cleared his throat forcefully.

It was your turn to look startled as you suddenly came to realize you had yet to introduce yourself. You quickly shared your name before shaking your head in shame. “You must think me some wild animal, Captain, please forgive me.” You muttered and tied off the fourth and final stitch.

He nodded at you, eyes taking on a glossy quality that had you growing more concerned by the moment. You set down your tools and raised a hand to brush the backs of your fingers against his forehead, heart clenching as his eyes fluttered closed. Those infernal eyelashes dusting against his cheeks. His skin felt a normal temperature but another ragged cough wracked his frame and you clenched your jaw.

“I’d like to listen to your lungs, Captain.” You muttered and stepped over to the cabinet once more to grab the stethoscope you’d seen there.

He blinked up at you as he began to undo his wool shirt. “It’s Ron.” He corrected you and another smile escaped you before you managed to smother it, hands cupping the bell of the stethoscope to warm it.

“Thank you, Ron.” You said softly, inserting the tips into your ears before stepping closer to press the stethoscope against his upper left chest. “Deep breath in for me?”

You listened carefully to each quadrant of his lungs, pleased there was no crackling or anything else abnormal. Satisfied it was most likely just a cold, you looped the stethoscope around your neck as you stepped back.

“Everything seems alright, promise me you’ll get some rest and keep warm?” You asked gently, doing your best not to allow your eyes to linger on the way his undershirt clung to his lithe frame. You did take a selfish moment to appreciate how well his wound from Bastogne had healed, however.

“Promise.” He nodded, doing up his shirt more slowly this time, courtesy of the stitches in his palm. “Remind me when I get to see you again?”

You bit your lip slightly and took a breath. “If the cough doesn’t improve, a couple of days. To get your stitches out, a couple of weeks. Please keep them clean and dry until tomorrow night at least.”

“Got it.” He nodded and straightened his OD jacket, pulling on a worn scarf from the back of the chair before standing slowly.

“But for now straight to bed.” You opened the door, watching over him feeling wildly and inexplicably overprotective.

“Thank you.” He looked to you drowsily and you nodded, seeing him out then turning back to clean up and complete his chart before rushing back to your actual duties that night.

One week passed, and then another. There was no visit from Captain Speirs. You did your utmost to convince yourself it was for the best, that it meant he was healthy. That he’d had his stitches removed by a nurse on the day shift at his convenience. Word came that his entire Division would receive a Presidential Unit Citation and Ike himself would be coming to visit to deliver it on Roosevelt’s behalf.

You were promptly informed by Chief Nurse MacDonald that your presence during the ceremony was not welcome, but if you wanted to observe the Divisional dress rehearsal a few days before, on your own time of course, she would not stop you.

Breaking out your dress uniform for the first time in months, you obstinately got ready just after the end of your shift that morning and strode your way over to the parade ground with a few of the girls on the evening shift who were certainly better rested than you. More than a few off duty nurses from the five other hospitals in Mourmelon had found their way onto the grounds to take a peek at the men in their finery and you could only imagine that number would be many times higher on the fifteenth when Ike himself was there.

The weather was thankfully cooperative as you huddled together near a collection of trees watching the men of the 101st file past. The contrast between their neatly pressed uniforms with mirror shined boots and the battered but not beaten men you’d encountered in Bastogne was truly striking. Each and every one of them truly deserved the honor that was about to be bestowed upon them.

Once everyone was satisfied that the ceremony would proceed without a hitch, the men were dismissed and you turned to head back to your tent to catch what sleep you could before your shift that night. Smothering a yawn behind your hand, the group of women you were walking with all came to a halt when a familiar voice called ‘Nurse!’ All of you almost seemed to turn back as one.

If six pairs of inquisitive female eyes intimidated Captain Speirs he did not let it show. He quickly clarified with your name, the other nurses filing away murmuring amongst themselves disappointedly.

“Good morning, Captain.” You nodded to him as he came to stand in front of you, sliding his helmet from his head to tuck it under his arm.

“Good morning.” He replied, eyes skimming over your uniform curiously.

You noted he’d found the time to visit a barber, his hair neatly trimmed and styled, though you rather missed the tousled waves he’d first arrived with.

“You are sounding well, Captain. I’m glad to hear it.” You smiled softly. “Did your hand mend nicely?”

He lifted it for your inspection and you looked to him startled to see the stitches still in place.

“Captain, these sutures were ready to be removed days ago.” You chided him softly as you cradled his hand in yours.

“I was told you were unavailable.” He replied quietly and you looked to his face quizzically before it dawned on you that he must have returned to the hospital during another shift and simply left when he learned you weren’t there.

“My apologies, I work nights. Any nurse can take care of these, they must itch something fierce.” You frowned.

“What time does your shift begin tonight?” He asked, seemingly happy to leave his hand at your mercy for as long as you chose to hold it.

“2100.” You replied, noting the disappointment that pinched at the bridge of his nose. “But I could meet you there at 2015 if it means getting this taken care of.”

He nodded firmly. “2015, then. Thank you.” He eyed you a moment as you tried in vain to fight back another yawn. “What time does your shift end?”

“0900. I should get back to get some rest. Just wanted to sneak a peek at the big show. You boys will do great when Ike’s in town.” You nodded warmly.

“You won’t be here?” He tilted his head curiously and you let out a scoff of self deprecation.

“Reckless, insubordinate nurses like me aren’t to be seen by the Supreme Allied Commander.”

A furrow appeared between his brows, the muscle of his jaw ticking slightly before he exhaled. “I wish they would stop punishing you for your bravery.”

Your eyebrows shot up beneath the brim of your service cap. You had been trying your damnedest to not let it bother you, especially after hearing the men of the 12th Hospital you’d gone in with had all received the Silver Cross. To hear him speak in your defense was quite honestly overwhelming.

After a careful glance around the nearly empty parade ground confirmed the remaining individuals were otherwise occupied, you leaned in to quickly press your lips to his freshly shaved cheek, thumb swiping away any trace of your lipstick.

“Thank you, Ron.” You swallowed tightly as the heat of his gaze was as palpable as a caress on the skin of your face. “I will see you later to remove your stitches.” Squeezing his hand gently you released it to hang at his side.

His silent nod was the only response you received before you turned to make your way back to your tent for some much needed rest, though your mind would have much rather focused on the way the sunlight lit his eyes than to let you sleep.

Arriving at the hospital that night at 2000 you tracked down Captain Munro and secured his permission to borrow his office once more in the name of treating the stubborn Captain Speirs. Setting out suture scissors and tweezers on a tray upon the desk, you hurried out front to meet the Captain lest he was misinformed about your availability again.

“Good Evening.” He nodded as you stepped outside, hugging your cardigan close against the chill of the night.

“Evening, Captain, please follow me.” You smiled and led him through the maze of hallways before holding open the door to the prepared office.

He assumed the same seat as before and, closing the door behind you, you sat opposite, looking over his palm as he set it in your waiting hand.

“You’ve done a very good job keeping it clean for me, Captain, thank you.” You smiled and picked up the curved scissors, the edge that pressed against the skin not at all sharp. “I’ll cut the stitches first and then pull them out with the tweezers, alright?”

He nodded, watching you closely as you snipped your way through the silk strands very carefully.

“They call me ‘killer’ you know…” he spoke apropos of nothing and you slowly raised your eyes, feeling as though you were joining an internal conversation well in progress.

Rumors spread through camp faster than that bone rattling cough he’d arrived with - you’d heard your fair share of things about him. Particularly after your tent mates had learned that he’d spoken to you earlier that day on the parade ground.

“Sure he’s pretty and all but after the things he did to those Nazi prisoners…” Betty from Indiana had insisted with a dramatic shudder.

“And his own Sergeant!” Philomena of New York had chimed in with an emphatic nod.

All of it struck you as hollow and vapid, coming from two wide-eyed girls fresh from Stateside who’d only ever known war stationed in hospitals with roofs and walls. Never been fired on, never had an enemy soldier try and take the life of a patient right out from under them.

“Well, Ron,” you replied thoughtfully as you set the scissors onto the waiting tray, “they could easily say the same thing about me. It just so happens I had a very honorable man at my side when my anger got the best of me.”

His eyes seized yours, pinning you to the spot with your hand hovering just above the set of tweezers as you forgot how to breathe. His lips tentatively began to form words several times before he abandoned his attempts to speak and lunged forward to close the space between you, his lips slotting against yours in reply instead.

Inhaling sharply through your nose in surprise, you found yourself quickly leaning into his kiss, fingers threading into his shorter hair as you tilted your head to press your lips more firmly to his. Sliding his arms around your shoulders, he pulled you close, tongue delving into your mouth greedily. A soft whimper escaped your throat only to be swallowed by his devouring mouth as he tasted you thoroughly.

Appearing discontent with the separation between your bodies, his hands shifted to grip your hips, guiding you onto his lap before his fingers began to pluck at the buttons of your cardigan. Rucking up the skirt of your dress and slip beneath, you settled over his hips, shuddering as the hard bulge of his length nestled tightly against your core.

“We don’t have a lot of time” you panted against his lips as his hands brushed aside your open cardigan to tug at the tie of your wrap dress, revealing your cream coloured slip beneath.

“Understood.” He murmured as he pulled back to drink you in, eyes taking on that glossy quality from back in February that’d had you so convinced he was febrile.

“Ron…” you urged gently, your own hands sliding between your bodies to work at the fastenings of his dress trousers.

Lost in some sort of trance he leaned forward to press his lips against the hollow of your throat before he secured the ball chain of your ID tags between his teeth and pulled them out from beneath the v-neck of your slip. Brushing his lips against the flat metal stamped with your name and serial number, preceded by the letter N, your heart lurched beneath your ribs fondly as it forgot its normal rhythm for a few beats.

The feel of his fingertips undoing the fastenings of your stockings from your garter straps refocused you and you quickly worked his fly open, sliding his trousers and boxers down as he did the same with your underwear, depositing them onto the floor.

Shifting higher onto your knees, you pressed your face against his temple as he took his cock into his hand, pressing into your entrance slowly. You whimpered breathily against his hair before dropping your head to the crook of his shoulder to try your best to keep your volume down. Rocking your hips against his with a smothered moan you clenched your thighs to begin working up and down along his length.

Heavy breaths fell from his parted lips, brushing against the skin of your neck, goose flesh erupting in the wake of each exhale. His fingers curled into the flesh of your hips as he helped drive your hips against his.

“Ahn, Ron!” You keened against his jacket, lifting your head to kiss him hungrily.

He rocked his hips up into yours each time your pelvis met his before letting out a frustrated grunt against your lips. “On the desk.” He rasped pleadingly and you nodded quickly, sliding from his lap to shuffle backwards, pushing the tray of instruments further behind you before perching on the edge.

Surging to his feet, he nestled between your legs, tongue sliding along yours as he thrust into your aching warmth once more. You cried out hungrily down his throat as your nails dug into the sleeves of his uniform jacket, clinging to him as he set a deliciously dizzying pace that had your toes curling in your shoes.

A ragged moan rumbled through his chest as his cock twitched within your wet heat and he quickly pulled back, chest heaving. Pushing from the desk, you fell to your knees, ignoring the slight sting as they impacted the floor, to wrap your lips around the leaking tip of his length.

He hissed through clenched teeth, hand coming to rest against the back of your head as you hollowed your cheeks tightly around him. Encircling him in your grasp, you eagerly stared up at his face as you stroked his cock, clenching your thighs together as the corded muscle of his neck flexed with the effort to remain silent as his salty release filled your mouth.

Laving him clean with your tongue, you sat back on your heels, swallowing every last drop as he watched on in stunned silence. Fingers sliding up your thighs to retrieve the first of your garter straps, you shivered a little as you remained highly sensitive, having been so close yourself, but also very much aware of the lack of time. You rose to your feet, about to begin fastening your stockings when his hands were on your waist, guiding you to sit on top of the desk once again.

“You didn’t…” He exhaled through flared nostrils and shook his head sharply. “Unacceptable.” Was all the warning he afforded you before he crouched down to seal his lips around your throbbing clit, two fingers plunging into your trembling warmth.

“Holy…” you barely managed to cover your mouth with your palm, hips bucking violently toward him.

He hummed against you approvingly as you lay back onto the worn wooden surface, writhing as fingers picked up the thread of your pleasure, winding it tighter and tighter as his mouth felt like it was sucking your very soul from you. Every muscle in your body became taught with exquisite tension until, at last, like the blowing of a fuse your release detonated behind your clenched eyelids.

Relaxing into the desk top with languid ease, you ran your fingers through his hair in tender appreciation. “Really…have no time now…” you murmured breathlessly and he pressed his damp lips to your inner thigh before pulling you up to a seated position and began to help you re-dress.

Any time his lips were vaguely within the vincinty of yours, you unhelpfully insisted on kissing him softly, significantly hindering progress, but eventually the pair of you were mostly presentable. He cupped your cheek with his left hand and your eyes shot wide at the rasp of sutures against your skin.

“Ron!” You gasped, grabbing his wrist and groping behind you for the tweezers before setting about carefully trying to remove them.

It was his turn to be a nuisance as he nuzzled his face into the soft skin of your neck, sighing gently, making you giggle under your breath as his eyelashes tickled your flesh.

“You are a wild animal.” His voice held a dreamlike quality, lips brushing against your throat as he spoke.

You honestly would have swatted him if his tone weren’t so reverent, doing your best to focus on removing the last two sutures.

“A lioness - fierce and strong and brave and gorgeous.” He rambled before brushing a line of feather-light kisses up towards your jaw.

It made your heart ache with the longing to linger with this verbose version of him that had somehow been unleashed, but according to the clock above the door, you had to be on duty in two minutes.

“Ronald Speirs, you sweet talker.” You whispered weakly, setting down the tweezers, your task finally managed. “I hope you sleep well.”

“You know I will, thanks to you.” His eyes met yours warmly before he cupped your cheeks, pulling you in for one last searing kiss. “May I…write to you?” He asked, incongruously hesitant after all that had transpired.

Sliding your arms around his neck, you kissed his forehead. “You’d better. This lioness has claws.” You smirked in a playfully threatening manner, earning a broad grin in response.

————————————-

Band of Brothers Masterlist

Tag list: @bcon24 , @ronsparky

Post-script: Firstly, I agonized for several hours about whether or not to have Ron be married in this. Ultimately, after reading that Ronald Speirs asked his first wife not be mentioned in any way in the miniseries I decided to do the same here. Secondly, while I used a fake name for the Major who flew into Bastogne by glider, this is all based on real events that took place! I decided to use fictional characters here to justify the radical actions I had them take in bringing the reader, but you the story of Major Soutter and the men of the 12th Evacuation Hospital is really quite something!

[roosterforme]

Airplane Mode Part 1 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley finds himself on a commercial flight with the cutest flight attendant in the world, he can't keep himself from flirting with you.

Warnings: Fluff, adult banter, swearing

Length: 4400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This is part 1 of 2! Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun!

Bradley was on his fourth deployment of the year, and it was only September. As he packed his flight suits and uniforms, he checked his boarding pass for the flight from San Diego International to Tokyo. His flight left in just three hours, so he needed to move.

The only way Bradley took commercial flights was begrudgingly. He much preferred his own Super Hornet, with his name emblazoned on the side, or his vintage Bronco. Nothing else felt as comfortable, as personal. But really, nothing was worse than a commercial airline.

He would probably have to sit next to someone who wanted to chat for the twelve hour flight. Or worse, get assigned the middle seat. But there wasn't really any other way to get him out into the western Pacific and onto the deck of the USS Nimitz in time for his surprise assignment. 

"God bless America," he muttered, rolling his eyes as he stuffed some clean underwear and his toothbrush into his bag. Then he locked up his house, unsure about when he would be back, and headed out in the Bronco.

Thankfully, his military credentials got him through the long security lines quickly, because he did not leave himself with very much time. He checked in with the airline and narrowed his eyes skeptically at the man working behind the desk.

"You've been upgraded to first class," the man told him.

"That seems suspicious," Bradley replied, earning a chuckle. "No, really. The Navy usually gives me the middle seat in the last row, right behind a screaming child. What gives?"

"Hmm, well, this flight is only at half capacity since it's a brand new itinerary. So we upgraded you, another military officer, and an elderly customer."

"And the screaming child?"

"Not upgraded that I know of, sir." 

"Thanks," Bradley replied with a nod as he scanned his boarding pass and made his way to first class. He had the window seat in the front row, so he stowed his carry-on bag and made himself comfortable while the other passengers took their seats. 

He could hear soft laughter coming from the curtained off area next to the cockpit, and a second later he was looking at a beautiful woman. 

"Welcome aboard, sir," you told him with a smile. "Can I get you anything before we take off?" 

Bradley swallowed hard and tried his best not to stare. "Uh, I'm fine," he managed to tell you. "Just....fine." 

"Right. Well, let me know if you need anything." 

You turned to greet another passenger, and Bradley found himself sitting up straighter as he blurted out, "Your name?"

You turned back to him and leaned his way. "Pardon?"

He met your eyes, and he grinned. "I need your name. You know, just in case I think of something you can get for me."

Your smile was more of a smirk this time, but you licked your perfect lips and told him what he wanted to know. Bradley tested your name out, and your smirk grew. "Yep. That's a good name."

You shook your head a bit. "You should get buckled in. I'll go over the exit row safety procedures with you in a few minutes."

"I can't wait," Bradley replied, and this time, when you turned away from him, he couldn't help himself. He looked at your body for a few seconds until he forced himself to face the front of the aircraft. He closed his eyes and counted to ten. This was going to be a long flight. 

He was lonely. It had been ages since he had dated anyone and quite awhile since he'd met a woman he even wanted to sleep with. That had to be why he was sweating a little bit right now.

Bradley buckled his seatbelt and tried not to watch you out of the corner of his eye. The sway of your hips when you walked was mesmerizing, as was the soft lilt of your voice. He listened to you charm every single person seated in first class, and he was already craving your attention again. 

When you came to a stop in front of him a moment later, he let his eyes travel from your sensible shoes up your bare legs, over your cute uniform dress, and up to your face. "Ready for your safety briefing?"

"Oh, absolutely," he said, his voice ridiculously needy to his own ears. 

You just smiled and gestured toward the handle to Bradley's right. "You are seated in my exit row. Can you verbally confirm for me that you are able and willing to help me in the event of an emergency?" 

"Definitely. I'd be happy to help you."

"Can you push, pull or lift at least fifty pounds?" you asked, your eyes taking in the bulge of his biceps and his broad chest. 

Bradley smirked and watched you lick your lips. "Sure can."

You pressed your lips together and eyed him briefly. "I don't know... are you sure you're strong enough to open the door?" Your voice was teasing, and Bradley swallowed hard as you shifted your weight from one leg to the other. 

"I'm strong enough to do anything you might want or need."

Bradley's grin grew as he watched your face light up, and the cutest giggle escaped your lips. "I'll keep that in mind," you told him with a nod before turning and disappearing behind that damned curtain. 

He rubbed his hands over his face before putting his phone into airplane mode. Flirting with you was pointless. He really shouldn't be doing it. But where the hell were the women who looked and sounded like you when he wanted to go on a date? Apparently they were thirty six thousand feet in the air, wearing tight navy blue dresses and ugly loafers. 

Bradley would do anything to be able to run into you at the Hard Deck. You probably didn't even live in San Diego though. And odds were good you were married or something. So he just settled back in his seat and watched the setting sun through the open window sash. Pretty soon he would be landing in Tokyo, he'd never see you again, and you would forget all about the guy who asked for your name and looked at your loafers.

Then, as if conjured by his imagination, you were standing in front of him again. This time you were folding down the seat that was used by flight attendants during takeoffs and landings. Bradley watched every move you made as you sat down facing him, your knees brushing against his as you settled into the seat.

"Sorry," you told him softly. Your perfect lips parted again before you added, "You must be tall. I don't usually have this problem." You were trying to scoot yourself back further in your uncomfortable looking seat, keeping yourself from touching him again as you buckled in. 

"I don't mind," he replied softly, repositioning his legs so that both of your knees were between his. 

Your eyes went a little wide as you whispered, "Okay," before clearing your throat. Bradley saw you glance at his thighs as he stretched his legs out a bit more comfortably, and then you immediately turned to look out the window as the pilot started to taxi toward the runway. 

The warm San Diego sunset had your skin bathed in orange light, making you look impossibly pretty, and Bradley was instantly regretting not bringing a book with him. No way he'd make it twelve hours in close proximity to you without embarrassing himself. 

"How tall are you?" you suddenly asked him.

He shrugged. "About six foot one inch, I guess."

"I'm sorry, I should have had you move to the aisle seat since it's empty. It's too late now, since we're about to take off, but you can move over later so we don't have this problem all night long."

Bradley shrugged again. "I wouldn't call it a problem. More like an added perk. I thought perhaps getting to sit by you was part of the upgrade to first class."

You kept eye contact with him but narrowed your eyes, and Bradley squirmed a bit in his seat. "You're flirting with me."

He chuckled. "Well, I'm trying. Based on your response, I must be doing a shitty job."

After examining his face for a few seconds, you sighed and looked out the window again. "No, you're doing alright. But I'm not allowed to flirt back. Whatever your name is."

"Bradley," he told you, holding out his hand. After you shook it, he said, "How about I do all the flirting, and you just pretend you're completely immune to me. Meanwhile, inside, you're totally falling head over heels."

You tried to hide your smile as the plane left the ground, and the jolt of excitement in Bradley's belly rivaled even the force of gravity. 

You didn't answer him, and you didn't look at him again, but Bradley felt your right knee bump against his leg as the plane gained altitude, and he heard you sigh. 

"Can you at least tell me if you'd flirt with me if I met you at a bar or something?" he asked after a while. 

You finally met his eyes just as the fasten seatbelt light was turned off, and you started to unbuckle your harness. 

"I'm afraid the answer to that question might sound as if I'm flirting with you." 

Bradley leaned forward as you stood and started turning away from him. "So is that a yes?"

You turned and looked at him over your shoulder, and you nodded. 

Bradley gaped at you, and he had to fight the urge to follow you behind the curtain this time.

"Fuck." He was absolutely squirming in his seat now. He could hear you and see your shoes, but you didn't emerge again for a while. And you didn't look at him as you took the dinner orders for everyone else in first class, leaving him for last.

Bradley told you what he wanted to eat, speaking slowly so he had time to look at you looking at him. 

"And would you like a drink? Maybe a cocktail or a beer? A glass of wine?"

As Bradley was just about to respond, you smirked at him. "You don't drink wine, do you?" you asked him.

"No, actually." He gave you a puzzled look.

You smiled at him. "I can guess what people are going to order with a scary level of accuracy. You like beer, specifically European imports. Stella? Maybe Heineken? And I think you also enjoy an occasional glass of scotch, neat. But you're also quite fond of "girly" cocktails, and you're not afraid to order them when you go out." 

"Holy. Shit."

You laughed at his response, and Bradley wanted to pull you down against him, listen to that laughter even closer. 

"Want me to make you a cosmopolitan?" you asked with a grin that had him practically stuttering. 

"Please." He managed to say that one word without too much trouble. You just nodded and strolled away from him again.

Bradley sat, impatiently waiting for you to reappear as he messed with his hair. He was really wishing he had taken more time getting ready. He was wearing faded jeans and a black tee shirt, cursing himself for looking like he dressed with no effort at all. 

He was absolutely going to try to get your number or give you his, and if he was going to get shot down, he liked to know he had at least put his best foot forward. 

You reemerged with a drink tray, and you took his breath away. He watched while you served everyone else, bringing him his martini glass filled with pink liquid last. 

"And a cosmo for you." 

Bradley took the drink and set it down on his tray table after taking a sip. "Delicious. Even better than my friend Natasha makes, and hers are great." 

You tucked your hands behind your back and asked, "Is she your girlfriend?"

"No. I am one hundred percent single," he told you immediately. "Maybe even more than that." 

The grin returned to your face, and Bradley was feeling ridiculously excited. 

"I'll bring your dinner out shortly."

"Wait, are you?" he asked, trying to keep your attention before you vanished again. "Are you single?"

You ignored him completely now, but you were still smiling. And you dropped off his dinner tray with nothing more than, "Enjoy your meal." So he ate his food and then you collected his tray and then he waited. 

He was pretty sure you'd have to return to your little fold down seat at some point during the evening. He was also pretty sure you'd have to stay awake all night. His plan was to wait you out. Beyond that he had no clue what he should do. 

But it was getting late now, and you were still somewhere up behind that curtain. He'd long ago finished his drink, and he had the brilliant idea to ask you for another one. He pressed the button to call for you, and then you were there.

"What can I do for you?"

He smiled so hard. "Are you telling me that anytime I push that little white button, you'll appear?" 

You had to hide your laughter behind your hand. "Yes. That's literally my job."

He shook his head slowly. "You've given me too much power. Will you make me another cosmopolitan?"

"Of course."

And when you brought him a second pink drink a few minutes later, he asked, "Are you allowed to sit with me again? In your little fold down seat?"

You chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, pretty soon I'll be sitting down for a while. You can move to the aisle seat whenever you want." 

But Bradley didn't move. He wanted to be as close to you as he possibly could. He just didn't realize that you might find that creepy or annoying until you were headed for your folding seat. 

"You're not moving?" you asked softly, just as the captain dimmed the overhead lights.

"I'm sorry, I can move so you have more room," he said, scrambling to unbuckle his safety belt. God, now he looked like a fucking creep. 

But you just shrugged at him. "You can stay in the window seat if you want. If you don't mind me bumping you."

Then you folded the seat down once more and took a seat before he could move. So he buckled himself in again, and let you get settled so that your knees were tucked neatly between his long legs. 

Just as you were starting to buckle your harness, the captain flew through some turbulence, and Bradley felt your hands come to rest on his thighs as you were bumped out of your seat. 

"I'm so sorry," you whispered, pulling your hands away like you had been burned. "I didn't mean to."

Bradley certainly didn't mind. He'd be more than happy to have your hands all over him. But of course he wasn't about to voice that idea.

"It's okay," he promised, meeting your eyes in the dim light. Another turbulent patch had you reaching for him again, but once you had your harness clasped closed, you wouldn't even look at him again.

"Sorry it's so turbulent," you managed to say, looking across the aisle at another passenger who had fallen asleep. "Usually I have someone losing their mind when it gets like this. But you seem very relaxed."

Bradley shifted in his seat, and his leg bumped yours. "I should hope so. I'm a pilot."

Your eyes snapped back to meet his. "Really? Which airline?"

Bradley just chuckled. "US Naval aviator. Top Gun."

"Oh," you said with a soft laugh. "I should have known. All you guys have a certain look."

Bradley licked his lips and crossed his arms. "What kind of look?"

You cradled your face in your palms. "Pretend I never mentioned it."

He shook his head. "I don't like pretending."

Sighing, you told him, "Aviators are always... big... strong looking. And overly confident."

"Huh," Bradley grunted. He supposed if you flew a San Diego route, you must see your fair share of aviators. You must also get hit on by most of them. God, you were beautiful.

"You're not like most of them, though," you added quickly. "Occasionally I have to excuse myself if they get crude."

Bradley's brow furrowed. "Crude?"

You shrugged again, checking to see if anyone had pushed their call button. "Yeah... it happens sometimes." 

"I don't like the sound of that," Bradley growled. 

But you just laughed lightly. "What are you planning to do about it? Follow me back and forth between San Diego and Tokyo and flex your muscles every time someone calls me baby or touches my butt?"

"Shit," Bradley whispered. "That really happens?" This information was swirling around his mind, and it made him feel sick. You were just doing your job; you didn't deserve to be harassed by aviators or anyone else. 

"You'd be surprised." Another bump of turbulence had your leg rubbing against his. 

Eventually Bradley whispered, "I would, you know."

You just looked at him for a few seconds. "You would what?"

Bradley smiled at you, and your lips curled into an involuntary smile as well. "Fly back and forth. Between San Diego and Tokyo. Flex my muscles and tell the assholes to leave you alone."

As you bit your knuckle to try to stifle your laughter, Bradley could practically feel how good it would be to have your teeth grazing his flesh. But the idea that you sometimes had guys giving you unwelcome touches had him ready to go through the roof. 

Then his mind shifted back to something you said. You flew from San Diego to Tokyo all the time. 

"Do you live in San Diego?" he asked quickly, and you bit your lip a little nervously, like you didn't want to answer him. 

But you searched his face in the darkness and finally said, "Yeah. I do."

Bradley's heart was thudding in his chest. He didn't want to press his luck. 

"What has you flying commercial to Tokyo? You must hate this! Are you being deployed?" you asked, drawing his attention to your words.

"Yeah. Hopefully a very short one. It's a special assignment."

Your smirk was back, even though he could barely see it in the dark. "Top Gun. Special assignment. First class upgrade. Sounds very exciting."

Bradley chuckled. "Listen, the best part of this whole thing was getting to sit with you between my legs.... Oh, God. Oh, no! I didn't mean it like that!" 

What the fuck had he just said?!

Bradley was frozen in panic with his hands halfway to his face, but you were laughing hysterically now. He watched you press your lips together to try to keep quiet as you shook with laughter. 

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to say that! I just...I'm really enjoying sitting here with you, that's all!" 

You waved your hand in the air and managed to say, "It's okay, Bradley. Oh, you look completely mortified!"

"I am completely mortified. You'll never let me have your phone number now!"

Then you smiled at him, but your eyes looked sad. "I can't go giving my phone number out to all you Top Gun guys."

Bradley ran his fingers through his hair. "Shit."

You sighed and tapped his knee with your fingers until he was looking at you again. Bradley let his hand settle just above his knee, and he wanted to unbuckle himself and reach for you when your fingers touched his.

"When do you fly back?" you asked quietly

"Unsure," he replied. "No return ticket yet."

"Hm," you hummed softly. You ran your fingertips along his, and he'd had just about as much as he could handle.

"Please, tell me your schedule. Something. Anything. I need to see you again."

You were quiet for so long, Bradley let the back of his head hit the headrest. You'd withdrawn your hand from his body, and he was so disappointed. 

"I usually fly overnights on the way back to San Diego as well."

He leaned closer to you again. "Which days?"

"It varies," you said, glancing across the aisle and undoing your harness. "But I'd like it if you were on my flight again." You stood to take care of a different passenger, and Bradley's eyes tracked you in the darkness. 

He was done for. Over the next several hours, he got to feel your body bump his every time you got in or out of your seat. He could smell your perfume or shampoo whenever you glided past him. He strained to hear every word that you spoke, whether to him or another passenger. But when you were seated in your seat, you and he exchanged little stories and flirtations. 

One time he even reached across and folded the seat down for you to sit. "Handsome and mannerly," you muttered as you buckled in. 

"I thought you told me you weren't allowed to flirt back," he commented as the sky was starting to lighten outside his window. 

You met his eyes and grinned. "A girl can only take so much."

"Are you single? You never told me. Please don't devastate me right now," his voice took on a teasing, pleading tone that made you laugh again.

"Yeah. I'm single. It's impossible to date with this job, honestly."

Bradley's heart soared like the airplane he was sitting in. You lived in San Diego. You were single. You were sexy and appealing. 

"Guys always think I'm going to cheat on them. But you want to know what I actually do in my hotel room on my overnights in Tokyo?" 

"Tell me."

"I eat the best sushi in the world and watch this one Japanese soap opera with the subtitles on. I am completely addicted to it."

"Jesus. I can get behind that one hundred percent. When I'm deployed on land, all I end up doing is eating the local foods. And I love sushi. Would be nice to have someone to call and talk to about it. I'd even be willing to get caught up with this Japanese soap opera so we could discuss it." There he said it. He was too afraid to be more explicit than that. 

You eyed him up and down, your body still except for the rise and fall of your chest and shoulders as you breathed. "I think-"

Your words were cut off by the sound of the fasten seatbelt light being turned off. Immediately you were unbuckling again and folding the seat up. "I think I need to start the breakfast service."

Now you looked flustered as you vanished behind the curtain. Bradley waited and waited for you to return. He could smell fresh coffee brewing, and his stomach started growling. The sun rose over the Pacific Ocean outside his window, and he could see islands in the distance, but he did not want this flight to end yet. He hadn't slept all night, but he would gladly stay up another twelve hours talking to you if you'd let him.

"What would you like for breakfast?" you asked him as you started taking orders. 

"Black coffee and a muffin."

"That's it?"

"Yeah," he replied. "I'm planning on finding some sushi as soon as we land. You could join me?"

You bit your lip and shook your head. "Sounds appealing...but I'm working a turnaround."

"Right," Bradley rasped. So he watched you work, serving everyone with a smile, helping with whatever was needed. He ate his muffin and drank his coffee quietly. And when the captain announced the final descent into Tokyo, you took your seat across from him one last time. 

You were both silent, just looking at each other until one of you inevitably let their gaze fall to the other's lips. Then you would both look away until drawn back in to let it happen over again. 

As the wheels touched down on the runway, and the sound of the wings dampening the air flow took over the small space, Bradley leaned forward. "Can I give you my phone number? Just in case you ever want to watch Japanese soap operas or eat subpar San Diego sushi with me?"

You smirked, but after a few seconds you nodded slightly. "Just don't hold your breath that I'll use it, okay? I'm basically never home. I can't even get a cat, let alone go on a date. And you would get tired of my schedule. I can guarantee that."

Bradley listened to your words, although he didn't agree with them. But he pulled a pen out of his backpack and wrote his first name and his phone number on the beverage napkin he still had. When he handed it to you, he watched you look at it before folding it in half and tucking it into your pocket. 

And then you were up, helping all of the passengers unload from the aircraft. He watched you pull luggage down for the first class passengers before sending them on their way, but he didn't move yet. He sat for nearly a half an hour, until everyone else had unloaded and the captain and co-captain had exited the cockpit and came to stand amongst the flight attendants. But you had looked at him as often as he had been looking at you. 

Now that he was the last one onboard, he stood, watching you examine his height and entire body for the first time. 

"Fly safely," you told him with a smile. 

"You, too," Bradley replied. "I'm going to be hoping I manage to get on one of your return flights. Hoping so hard." Bradley's heart was pounding again as you gave him a little nod before he walked out of the plane and made his way onto Japanese soil. 

--------------------------

Thank you for reading this one! Please leave some love and stay tuned for the conclusion! And thanks to @bradshawsbitch for sharing her knowledge of life as a flight attendant!

PART 2

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

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@xoxabs88xox

[mopopshop]

Shattered Promises

part: 1

pairing: paige bueckers x oc

a/n: here’s part 1 of my series yall 🙌🏾 if you’ve been following me for a while i already have written abt these characters, paige and alara, this is series is like how they meet and how their relationship develops with rya and all that, please enjoy and give feedback if you’d like!!

---

Your morning has already been a whirlwind. You woke up late, barely had time to shower, and had to scramble to get Rya ready for the day. Rya, now two years old, is in a particularly fussy mood, refusing to eat breakfast and clinging to you as if sensing your stress. After finally managing to dress Rya and pack her diaper bag, you rush out the door, your heart pounding with anxiety.

You drive to your mother’s house, mentally rehearsing your schedule for the day. Your mom is always a reliable support, but you hate showing up so inconsistently. You park the car and hurry inside, your mom meeting you at the door.

“Morning, hun,” she greets, taking Rya from your arms. “You look like you’re in a rush.”

“Yeah, I’ve got class,” you reply, pressing a kiss to Rya’s forehead. “Thank you for watching her, Ma. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Promise”

“Don’t worry about us. Just focus on your classes,” she reassures you, giving you a warm smile.

You nod, feeling a bit more at ease. You hurry back to your car and drive to campus.

---

By the time you find a parking spot and make your way across the UConn college campus, you’re already a few minutes late for your first class. You slip into the lecture hall as quietly as possible, scanning the room for an empty seat. Your eyes land on a spot next to a girl with long, blonde hair and an athletic build. You slide into the seat, trying not to draw attention to yourself.

The professor is already deep into the introduction, outlining the course syllabus. You fumble for your notebook, feeling the eyes of the other students on you. You scribble down notes, trying to catch up.

“You good?” the girl next to you whispers, her voice light with amusement.

You glance over and reply awkwardly, meeting her curious gaze. “Yeah—was just in a rush.”

She nods understandingly. “Ohh I feel you, I feel you. I’m Paige— by the way”

“Alara,” you respond, trying to focus on the lecture. “Nice to meet you.”

The professor drones on about course expectations and major assignments. You try to take notes, but your mind keeps drifting back to Rya. When the professor announces a group project, your stomach sinks. You had hoped to get through the day quietly, not needing to interact much.

“Alright, everyone, pair up,” the professor instructs. “This project will require collaboration, so choose your partners wisely.”

You look around, feeling lost and anxious. Before you can worry too much, Paige nudges you lightly. “Wanna be my partner?”

“Sure,” you agree, relieved to have an easy solution.

The rest of the class is spent discussing the project, a report on contemporary social issues. Paige is nice, you think to yourself. She’s funny and easy to talk to, by the end of class you find yourself relaxing and actually enjoying the conversation.

“So… uh what made you decide to take this class?” Paige asks as you walk out of the lecture hall together.

“I’m majoring in social work,” you explain. “As corny as it sounds, I actually like helping people and wanna make a difference”

Paige nods. “Type shit, type shit. I’m here on a basketball scholarship, but I’m really interested in sociology and—“

You don’t mean to but end up cutting her off with a laugh and she gives you a confused smile.

“What?” She chuckles out.

“Oh- no, no, I’m sorry. I just- did you just say type shit?”

“Yeah? What’s wrong with that?” she teases back.

You smile at the match of energy “Nothing, nothing, just very on brand for your whole… jock, basketball player thing you’ve got going on.”

Paige laughs, a warm and genuine sound. "I guess I can't escape the stereotype, huh? But for real, sociology; shits pretty interesting"

You nod, feeling more comfortable with each passing moment and continue to banter back and forth as you walk.

You reach a crossroads on campus where you'll have to part ways. Paige turns to you, her expression shifting to something more earnest. "Hey uh.. can I get your number? You know, for the project and stuff”

You feel a flutter of excitement in your chest. "Yeah, um- for sure." You exchange numbers, and she sends you a quick text to confirm.

"Sick, I'll text you later about our project," Paige says, her smile widening. "And maybe we can grab coffee or something?"

"Sounds good," you agree, feeling a warmth spread through you.

"Cool, see you then," she says, giving you a small wave before heading off in the opposite direction.

---

After your last class, you head back to your car, the events of the day replaying in your mind. The conversation with Paige was a bright spot, and you find yourself looking forward to working on the project with her. You drive back to your mom's house, eager to see Rya and tell your mom about your day.

When you arrive, your mom is in the living room, playing with Rya. The sight of your daughter’s bright smile as she toddles around the room makes your heart swell.

"Hey, Ma," you greet, dropping your bag by the door and walking over to scoop Rya into your arms.

"How was your day, hun?" your mom asks, looking up from her book.

"Pretty good, actually," you say, smiling at Rya who is now babbling happily. "I met someone in class today. Her name's Paige. She's... really nice."

"That's good to hear, baby" your mom replies, giving you a knowing smile. "It's always good to make new friends."

You nod, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "Yeah, we got paired up for a project. I'm looking forward to it."

After chatting with your mom for a bit, you gather Rya's things and head home. The evening passes in a blur of dinner, bath time, and bedtime stories. As you lay Rya in her crib, you feel a wave of exhaustion, but also a sense of accomplishment. 

You finally settle into your own bed, ready to call it a night. Just as you’re about to drift off, your phone buzzes with a new message. You reach over to check it, finding a text from 

Paige.

Paige B.

Still up for that coffee soon?

———

[itpemod]

SIGN UP POST

It's late September and that means #ITPE sign-ups are OPEN 🎉🎉🎉 Links will be at the end, so please read through the post as we have a lot of new information/procedures this year!

This is the FOURTEENTH year of the exchange, but the FIRST year we will be hosting it on Tumblr, which was far and away the winner in our platform move survey. Happily, this means we get to keep our acronym and branding!

What is #ITPE?

#ITPE is a low-pressure, no-minimums podfic exchange that originated on Twitter. We are now on Tumblr because of Twitter’s…everything, since it was bought by the Muskrat. Everything–sign-ups, communication, assignment/gift distribution–used to be run entirely on Twitter, but as the exchange has grown, we’ve incorporated other platforms to help make our lives as mods easier. Consequently, sign-ups will be on AO3 and submissions of your finished gifts (when it comes time for them) will be via Google form. Otherwise all communication, including announcements, questions, assignment and gift delivery, will be conducted over Tumblr and instant messaging. 

Who are the mods?

Our mod line-up is @blackestglass (blackglass) & @knight-tracer, with flowersforgraves assisting on the backend with data management. 

What is the schedule?

The dates for #ITPE 2024 are:

Sign-ups: SEPTEMBER 21 - SEPTEMBER 29

Assignments go out: No later than OCTOBER 8

Projects due: DECEMBER 17

Distribution: DECEMBER 24

So long as it's still September 29 somewhere in the world, you can still sign-up.

How do I sign up?

We are continuing to run sign-ups through AO3 (without a nominations process, so just write in your fandoms). We are asking for a minimum of 3 unique fandoms and if you want to sign-up to give or receive more than 20 fandoms, pick your TOP 20 for the AO3 and put the rest in your Dear Podficcer Letter. If you have less than 20 fandoms, we encourage you to list all of your primary and secondary fandoms in the sign up form so we have options for matching!

Note: We consider certain RPF fandoms as “umbrella” fandoms. We know we have K-Pop podficcers and sports RPF podficcers who often sign up for our exchange. Individual K-Pop bands and individual sports/sports teams do not count as “unique” fandoms (so for instance, only listing SHINee, BTS, and A-Teez would not count as having 3 unique fandoms for sign-up purposes; for our purposes, they would all fall under the K-Pop umbrella). In addition to listing your favorite bands/sports/teams in the fandom field, we do ask you to help us out for matching by thinking of at least 2 other fandoms which you might be happy to give and receive in. The RPF podficcing pool is small and we try not to repeat matches within a 5-year period, so giving us more fandom options will help us find you a match. 

What is a Dear Podficcer letter?

Your Dear Podficcer letter should include stuff like squicks, triggers, ship and trope preferences, and anything else you think we & your gift giver should know regarding your fandom tastes. Letters are mandatory. They don't have to be long! But if you have extremely specific tastes, it’s better that you let us know upfront in your letter so that we can ensure that you receive a gift you’re happy with. Please don’t worry about seeming “difficult”! We want you to love the gift you receive! Also, do feel free to request your small, obscure fandoms! Just help us out by also including some more popular or “mainstream” fandoms among your options. 

If you’re still uncertain what a letter should look like, here are some examples from 2020: blackglass’s 2020 letter & knight_tracer’s 2020 letter. You can also check out linked letters in the “Requests Summary” on AO3 to see what other people’s letters look like!  

Letters should be hosted on a publicly viewable platform, such as on Dreamwidth, tumblr, carrd, GDrive, Dropbox, etc. 

Please put your Tumblr and AO3 handles (if they don’t already match) in your Dear Podficcer letter. For our sake, ideally somewhere in the title field. Toss a coin to your mod team. 

Also please be kind to your mods & avoid using smushnames or cute fandom ship names in your letter. We're not always in your fandom & sometimes people will use different names to refer to the same pairing & we mistakenly believe you're requesting different pairings (see: the Zimbits/JackBitty/etc. debacle of 2020). Using Char A/Char B(/Char C) would help us out a lot! You don't have to use AO3 levels of disambiguation – just provide us with enough information to figure out who the characters involved in the ship are. 

If you have specific tastes in what you want to RECEIVE in a fandom, but you’re willing to CREATE outside of those preferences (for instance, wanting to receive podfic about a specific pairing, but willing to podfic for other pairings in a fandom), please indicate that in your letter! If you want to offer or receive fandoms that aren’t currently on the AO3, or you’re one of those gutsy people that is willing to offer and create in “any fandom”, message this account and we’ll make sure it’s all recorded. 

In addition, if you’re an adventurous listener who is open to RECEIVING podfic for “any fandom” please ALSO message us so that we’re aware! We still need a minimum of 3 fandoms for your sign up so that it can go through.

If you have any DNWs (“do not wants”)  that you don’t want to post publicly in a letter, concerns about matching, or anything else you’d like to privately let the mods know, there’s a section in the sign up this year that you can fill out. Or you can send us a message!

How should we be communicating with you over Tumblr? We will primarily be using the instant messaging function. Therefore you will need a Tumblr account to sign up, because that’s where all communication and assignment/gift delivery will take place. It’s totally fine to use a placeholder account you only use for this exchange. (We do recommend adding a userpic, filling out your bio, and maybe reblogging a few posts so that you don’t seem like a bot.) All participants should be following the mod account, especially if you have restricted settings so that only people you follow can message you. The instant messaging system, unlike the ask system, allows us to maintain a record of our communications, and is the best way to share information you want to keep private between us or have extended conversations. You may use asks if you have a one-off question or questions you don’t mind getting public answers to. 

(Notifications for new Tumblr messages can be finicky so try to check out the messaging tab semi-regularly throughout the duration of the exchange instead of relying on the blue dot to let you know there’s a new message.) 

In an attempt to avoid tripping spam filters and hitting the Tumblr limit on sending messages to new people, we are asking you to help us out by sending us an instant message to let us know you’ve signed up, rather than us trying to reach out to dozens upon dozens of people (prime spambot behavior)! 

What happens if you get marked as spam?

If we get shadowbanned/tossed in potential spambot purgatory, the mods will reach out to you from our personal accounts/mod sideblogs or via email. During the sign up period, we will reach out to you via messaging to ask you for a reliable email address to reach you at in case all of our attempts to not get flagged as spam fail.

If we are marked as spam, we’ll still be able to post on our own blog and we should still appear on your dash, but we won’t be appearing in the tags most likely, which is another reason why it’s important for you to be following us!

How does matching work? How will I get my assignment?

The mods do hand-matching, meaning rather than just letting the AO3 algorithm run and make arbitrary matches based on fandom, we read all your letters and try to match you with someone with similar tastes and interests. We’ll only be relying on the AO3 algorithm to help us spot tricky matches. 

Another of the ways Tumblr combats spam is to shadowban anyone sending multiple similarly worded messages. We’re going to make an attempt to deliver extremely pared down assignment messages so that we’re mostly sending unique information. If we do get marked as spam, as mentioned earlier, we may reach out to you on sideblogs or via email. 

What kind and how many gifts should I make? Do you really mean “no minimums”? 

Yes, ITPE gifts have NO LENGTH MINIMUMS. Make something as big or as small as you want to commit to! We truly do mean it. This is meant to be a low pressure exchange! Accordingly, please set your expectations that you may receive a short gift. In the past, we have had participants who’ve been extremely generous and made a prolific amount of gifts for their giftee, but they are outliers and there is certainly no expectation that anyone else should strive to those heights. 

I have more questions about making gifts!

We’re sure you do, but we’re not there yet! We will update this FAQ with more information about submitting gifts and treats once assignments go out, so check back!

I’m ready to sign up! What are the next steps? 1. Fill out the sign up form on AO3 here.

2. Follow us @itpemod if you haven’t yet!

3. Send us a message over the chat letting us know you’ve signed up!

4. Optional (but encouraged if you want to talk to people!): join the Tumblr Podfic Community to participate in the friending/following meme!

5. Optional: Track/follow the #itpe or #informal tumblr podfic exchange tags! 

[simp-ly-writes]

Betting on Hearts

Cross-over: Contemporary! Peaky Blinders x The Gentlemen (2024)

Pairing: Edward "Eddie" Horniman x afab!Shelby!Reader,

Summary: Being the main face to the (legal*) Shelby Business Empire, you too dabble with the less than legal side when prompted to (against your Brother's wishes). So when a certain Duke and Glass Family start stirring things up on your doorstep, you decide to seduce the duke into compliance but maybe, Eddie had the same idea for you too...

Warnings: 5000~ words, depictions of blood, overprotective siblings, emotional manipulation (seduction), reader is a bit... much. Probably some other tags that I am forgetting

A/N: more notes later.

Masterlist | Taglist Request | read-through and edited.

↳ The Shelby empire was dominant in many industries and with you being among the middle children, just behind your three older brother's, you mainly took to the newer parts of the business but you of course wrangled your way to the darker sides as well no matter how much your family protested (except for Polly, she openly cheered you on before her untimely passing)

↳ You were the Queen of import/export, the face to the Gin company and co-owner to your new digital sports betting app, your younger sister Ada had stepped in to help you manage it all. Using the earnings from the gambling you put it towards the branding and advertisements of your other departments and the greater Shelby corporation

↳ Arthur, the spirited yet your mentally-barley-afloat brother as he drank half the gin you supplied to his section of the business or found himself high as a kite while insisting on keeping your hands as clean as possible, coming with you on every assignment. Arthur maintained his "Garrison" bars across the country, moving on to establish high dining and was currently trying to stick the Shelby name into hotel management.

↳ John, a man that carried a huge heart with his irresistible charm and humor. He (while trying to convince the youngest, Finn to join him) managed the productions and manufacturing of each one of your industries. Supplying the parts, the bottles and ingredients, alongside the construction materials for every one of Arthur's expansions alongside supplying for your... darker dealings. The company, to a degree, was self-sustainable

↳ And of course, you had Thomas, the mastermind of the whole empire and the one you reported every minuscule detail to at the end of the day. You wouldn't call him kind, but he was considerate to a degree. You could always count on him to protect you where other's have failed but that also caused the greatest conflict between the two of you. It was hard, managing family verses business with him, lines always threatening to be crossed as your relationship was strained. Thomas respected you deeply, you had stuck with him when the rest of the family fell apart and offered him new perspectives to cultivating legal business. Yet he was too protective of you, he couldn't stand to lose you and openly admitted that you where his first choice if he needed to choose who would live

↳ In recent times, your family was playing chess against with a rising power called the Glass family who not so suitably started poking their fingers into your sectors, fixing your gambling sites with their newest expansions. You chuckled to yourself within Tommy's house. The men reported on the new business the Glass family had established, a boxing ring as you shoved Arthur in his chair with a teasing smile.

"Remember when you wanted to become a boxer, brother?" Arthur flips you the finger, a frown emerging from his moustache as he pours himself another drink, mumbling about you being a spoiled little brat yet you don't bother to catch the end of it.

The spy coughs, returning all of your attention back as Thomas glares at you both to hold yourselves, John's face has gone red trying to conceal his laughter at the childish faces you pull at him as Thomas throws his hand up, signalling for the man to continue.

"They have been having some difficulties in expanding their weed enterprise as well, we are still trying to get to the bottom of as to why this is as the documentation we have stolen shows nothing out of the sorts." A series of copied folders and photographs are then spread against the hardwood table as your painted nails sort through each stack, categorizing them in sequential order. Your green nail taps on top of a dead mans face thoughtfully stroking his cheek as you look at the bullet hole placed in between his eyes, "And what is the backstory to this incident exactly?" you comment.

The spy looks towards Thomas who already looks bored, there was nothing of significance to be said just yet but this newest bit of information had him raising as eyebrow. "Well, that kill was confirmed to be done by the new Duke of Halstead as I were one of the men stationed to dispose of it."

The spy throws another bundle on the table labelled, "The Duke." You excitedly snatch the manila folder quicker than anyone else at on the table as your eyes dart across every picture and piece of information you can grasp. Captain, Aristocrat, Medals... More Medals, Service, First Place, Honour Roll, Head Boy, Family Strain, oh... Your thoughts pause, cheeks heating when you flick up a stapled bundle of papers, a defined uniform, blue beret. The next page a Polo champion in college and deep black suit for the funeral. Slamming the folder shut, all eyes snap to the sudden noise.

"We are joining the upper echelon of society, brothers! Do let me meet up with him- I promise not to disappoint," you plead, already knowing that you are perfect for the mission. You and the Duke were both public-facing faces with one foot in reality and another in the pits. It would be a simple mission really, you convince yourself and your brothers as they immediately protest to the idea. Step in, seduce, convince him to sign-out and step out- as simple as that.

You look at Thomas, eyes strong, eyebrows furrowed as you level his stare. "You know I'm the only who can properly do this job, Thomas and if it does not work out, we can just kill them off just like the last, right?" The spy departs, bowing his head before speedily turning out of the room as tension only rises in the room, getting caught in your throat as you hitch your breath watching as Tommy's mouth moves into an echoing, "fine."

--

↳ So here you sat, in your covered box from the sun at the races. You clapped joyfully with a smile spreading your cheeks. You tip your hat down, seeing your bets adding up on your card as Ada cheered loudly beside you, leaning over the railing as she praises your chosen racer. Interviews for the sportsmen start as the Jockey casts a wink up at your sister. Ada throws down a business card the he clutches, placing it in his breast pocket with a tap to his chest before continuing to answer the post-race questions.

"Have yourself a date?" you tease out, picking up your spiked lemonade to hide your smile curving up into a knowing smirk. "Well you are one to talk sis, I heard down the grapevine that you had a certain duke chasing after you like Cinderella," Ada rebuttals, fixing herself a drink at the cart as you eye the three shots of vodka she stirs in, "isn't that a bit much for..." you look down at your wrist-watch, "...1PM? We do have dinner at Arthur's later tonight you know."

"We all can use a pick-me-up every now and then," she comments as you hum out, eyeing up your singular shot drink before shifting further down the couch to create space for her as she removes a pillow, placing it on her lap as she kicks off her heels and sets her feet up upon the coffee table. "Now, you didn't answer my question, go on then," she sasses, setting her drink down and leaning closer to you with knowing eyes gleaming into your own.

You roll your eyes, face going red while pushing her face away from your own as she laughs, "So you do have the hots for him!"

"No, its just that a second sun is bursting in my face and plus, we could never work," you retort, now refusing to meet her chasing eyes as she grips your hand. "Oh, come on (name)! details, details! don't leave me hanging here, thats brothers work," Ada presses forward just as your resolve crumbles. You place a hand to the bride of your nose, pinching as you eyes squeeze shut. "I won't repeat myself so listen closely," you start recalling the first day you met Captain and Duke, Edward Horniman.

--

↳ Running around your house, asking various staff members of your estate as to where your old mail had been distributed you felt around the thin papers and pages till you felt weight and lifted out the invitation from the stack. Mr. Johnston's Estate invites you to his quarterly festivities, your fingers trace over the pressed letters and seal before looking towards your closet

↳ You had worn a tailored dress that perfectly accentuated your body for tonights assignment. Within a closer inspection, various hand stitched black branches and birds spread across the top sheer level of fabric set to a black backdrop. Your hair was pinned upwards, showcasing the glowing skin of your neck and upper chest that you spent way too much time blending in with your makeup.

↳ You suitably leaned against the bar-top, feet already sore from the high heels you wore to make your legs appear longer and by the looks around the room, your plan of seduction was already in the works as a woman ordered a drink for the two of you. Her red lipstick simmering brightly under the dim lights, beckoning you in closer yet you held your resolve. Thanking her for the drink while placing a hand on her own before walking towards the neighbouring room. Feeling her stare as you left, you offered her a floating kiss before turning the corner.

↳ The windows were open as you walked down the long hall towards the cheers as multiple guests played various card games within the billiards room, you pulled the sleeves of your dress down further as you dropped the drink on a floating tray- it's sickeningly sweet taste formed a headache as you pinched your temples.

↳ You strolled around the room, smiling at every face that met yours, shaking hands with others as you enjoyed watching every. single. face. fall in recognition to who they were just flirting with. Stuttering apologies, you grew disappointed when their eyes drifted cautiously around the room for a threat of a man, one of your brothers. You scoff at this, turning towards the next.

↳ With the most recent man that was trying to capitalize on the half-attention you were giving him, absent-mindlessly nodding along to his business proposition as you both strolled around the estate, you found yourselves back at the entrance as your eyes snapped over to the late party-goers just making their arrivals, one of them being just the man you were waiting for as he stumbles through the open doors.

His beauty stumps you in person, the blurry pictures you obtained from at the table do not do the man justice as he practically glows under the warm lighting above. His hair tussled in a wind-swept way as your hands itch to fix every strand. Chocolate eyes are all you want to drink in before your attention is being called back as you start to glare at the intrusion.

"So what do you think, Mademoiselle Shelby?" the man asks to you, hand starting to drift up your arm, another on your leg before your eyes snap back down to his face from over the crowd. You rip your arm away from his touch, sending him a cold smile as you fix the lapels of his jacket for him, gripping the suit closest to his neck as you pull him closer to you. Any outside looker would think your reaction to be a romantic display yet by the sweat starting to form at his hairline, you were receiving just the reaction you wanted.

"I have no interest in working with a boy who already starts to sweat at the mere touch of a woman," and with that you drop him, watching as he falls into a group of people who all glare down at him, stepping around as he scrambles out the backdoor. You fix your appearance in your phones camera before making your way towards your mission.

--

Edward Horniman's Perspective

Re-buttoning his suit jacket, he places his keys in the hands of a staff-member while making his way up the stairs. Susie had been waiting for him in the lobby rather impatiently, her foot tapping against the tiled floors as she dully looked at the floral decorations that hug around the vaulted space before her eyes snapped to Eddie form spinning around to face her.

"You look a bit shit," she says while eyeing him up and down, taking notice to the small amount of blood beginning to form at his side with distaste.

"Remind me why we're here?" Eddie states, taking the conversation reigns as he begins to glance around the room. Susie begins walking closer to him, making their way out of the foyer.

"We are here to learn why Uncle Sam wants in to your estate and subsequently our Business," Susan replies, a subtle shake of her head as if ringing out the terrible idea of it all. Her feet start to falter as she instantly notices you stepping into the room behind them both with a champagne flute delicately place in your hand.

"Then whats his business?" Eddie pushes forwards, moving them both through the sea of people as Susie snaps her head back forwards, doing her best to maintain composure and not cause a scene as she allows Eddie to guide her further into the estate.

"Meth. He's made billions from it."

"Then what are you, Susan, a drug dealer with a heart?" Eddie question's, raising a brow as he stops to pick them both up a drink. A small smile spreading across his lips as they chime together before Susie proceeds to down the rest of it.

"Everything alright?" concern now rising in his features as he looks around the room, his gaze stopping, breath intaking sharply at the sight of you. He is unable to tear his gaze away as you turn your head to face him, you offer a small smile. Eyeing the man from his shoes, the seam of his pants, his neck that swallow deeply as your hand rises from your side, up to your collarbones as you delicately play with the necklace you wear. You finally stop at his eyes as you mouth a cheeky hello before turning around back towards the bar.

Susie still remains looking at her now empty drink, unknowing to Eddie's distraction by the sound of the crowd as she continues conversation normally. "We like money just as the next man, but his gear comes with a rather violent price tag. We stay in our lane because comparatively, its a peaceful one. We let him in, carnage will follow."

Susie now looks up, noticing that Eddie had not replied to her speech as she follows his gaze to your back as your fingers play with the lip of your cup. You laugh at whatever the bartender had just said to you before your glass has been topped off once more, you turn around, flashing them both a smile before slowly making your way closer to them.

Eddie takes a step forwards, wishing to meet you halfway before Susie reigns him in, nails digging into the arm of his suit jacket as she pulls him back to her side.

"I don't think you are quite ready for the big leagues, Captain-" Susan warns, looking at the side of Eddies face before he turns back to her, a charming smile accentuating his features before he speaks.

"I just killed a man, Susie. I think I can handle speaking to a woman-"

"Hm, well thats just not any ordinary woman, Edward. That is Miss. Shelby- the possible saviour to every one of our problems if we did not already... push some buttons," Susie states, smile waning as you get progressively closer, many people still try and gain your attention as you hold up your hand, wishing not to be disturbed.

"And there's room to fix that I'm sure, but what exactly did WE do?" Before Susie could answer, your heels are in front of Eddies dress shoes as you extend a hand forwards in greeting. "Miss. Shelby," Susie greets you with a composed look, her smile dropped as she tries to stare through you.

Edward picks up your hand, pressing a kiss on to the back of it as you hold hands for longer than necessary before pulling away. "Your Grace, Miss. Glass," you greet, "a pleasure it is to see you both here tonight." Your voice is like honey, hanging in the air as you smile at them both.

"The pleasure is all mine, Miss. Shelby," Edward replies, noticing Susie's mock indifference as she shifts her weight slightly under your faux-gentle eyes; sharped to a cutting-stare as you strike her down. "You two make a rather charming couple, if I may ask, how recent is this development?" you question, hiding your growing smirk in your drink as Eddie's gaze falls to your lips and the print you leave against the glass, snapping back up to your eyes- yours crinkle in a second greeting.

"You have yourself mistaken, Myself and Miss. Glass are merely business associates," Eddie clarify as you set your glass gently on the bar-top, hand brushing against Eddies bicep in the movement. Your eyes continue to lock on to one another, a silent conversation being played as you lean a bit closer, taking a deeper look at his features as you notice Eddies gaze roam your's own. In that moment, Susie decides to step back into the conversation.

"What does your family want?" she deadpans, eyeing the closing distance between you and Eddie with hardened eyes as her hand threatens to crush the glass in her hand. "Well, by the looks of it, your business had became my business, thanks to your mingling," you charismatically charm, hand hovering on Eddies arm as you adore the jealous look brewing inside her.

"And if you two are merely just associates, I think this calls for a more... personal discussion with the Duke since our businesses are now becoming tied together, is that not tight Susie?" you finish with as Eddie looks between the two of you, undeceiving of who to follow alongside. But by the look of your eyes snapping to his lips once more as you tongue swipes across your own, parting them slightly- his decision is made.

"I will be back in a moment, Susie," Edward says, following in-step as you lead him out of the crowded space. Just as Eddie reaches the hall, he casts his head back, sending Susie a knowing look as if to say, I'm fixing it before disappearing. Susie glares at your lipstick stained glass sat on the counter with distaste before being led towards Mr. Johnston by his assistant.

--

Your Perspective

Success, you cheer to yourself, as you loop your arm around Eddies arm, leading him towards a nearby study you know to be empty. The door softly closes behind you both. In the next moment, you pull Eddies arm to his side, shoving him against the door as it rattles from the impact.

Eddie's eyes are blown wide as he hisses out slightly in pain, forgetting about the gun-shot wound before becoming distracted by the feeling of your soft lips against his own. Your heels make you tall enough to capture his lips into a delicate battle of heated touches, your skirt being bunched up by Eddies hands, your gentle caresses of the stubble of his cheeks as playful bite his lower lip, wishing to explore more.

Gasping for air as you pull away, you further taint his skin a deep red to match his lips you coated in your lipstick. Pressing a kiss at the side of his mouth as he whispers out a tease before you trail over to his cheek, paving a way to his chin and down his neck as his head raises, exposing more skin for your greedy lips. He grips your hips, keeping you in place as you suck a mark onto the base of his neck. A soft moan escaping between his lips before an equally greater hiss as blood continues to pour out of his side.

You take a step back, gently opening his jacket, your eyes cast upwards, through your lashes as you playfully pout. You place a palm at his inner thigh, watching as his eyes grow in size as your hand drifts just past the growing bulge in his pants- stopping slightly before the wound as you hum out thoughtfully while looking at it.

"My, my, your grace. Whatever do you have here?" You rhetorically ask before pressing your hand into the opening, listening as he hisses out, hands swiftly moving off your hips and onto your hand as they pull your touch off of him side.

"You little fucking temptress," Eddie curses out, eyes darkened as his tongue sweeps over his lips, you take a few steps back. The Duke presses himself off the wall, taking wide strides as your hands begin to sweat yet you do not break eye contact. Continuing to swiftly walk backwards as best you can in heels before tripping over a rug and falling against the back of a chair.

Eddie's arms cage you in against the chair, your breath hitching as he places his face within the crook of your neck. His facial hair tickling your skin, a soft burn forming with every word he speaks, "Now tell me, Miss. Shelby, what is it you want from me?"

You swallow. Hard. Knuckles turning white at the force you grip the chair with before trying to compose yourself, a shaky breath you exhale conceal in a moan. Pressing a kiss to the shell of his ear, "I want you to kiss me, Eddie," you murmur, hand fixing those curls you wanted to from the start. Your fingers curl around a few strands within an instant as Eddie sucks a bruise to your neck, licking the area afterwards. "What are you here for?" he questions once more as you shake your head, wondering how far you can truly push this.

"No. That was not a proper kiss, sir. Kiss me." You state again, taking a deep breath in as victory when Eddie pulls away, eyes boring into your own, blood now tainting the band of his pants as your eyes flicker down to it. Your chin is gripped as Eddie pulls you into that proper kiss you were begging for but he pulls away too quickly as you press your lips together to hide your frown. Your cheeks were warm, hair a mess, your chest raises up and down like you had just ran a mile.

Edward appears in the same state as he stumbles back, hand gripping his side, eyes tipping down to your chest before snapping back up with a cold look- you needed to answer, couldn't have your signature bleeding out before he could sign.

"I need you out of my bettings, your grace," you breathily state, hand placed on your chest as you feel your heart-rate still bumping fast. You take deeper intakes of air, feeling for your heart starting to slow as you watch Eddie crunch over, blood-loss starting to make him go dizzy.

You swiftly stand and hobble towards the desk, finding a first aid kit in one of the lower drawers as you unknowingly bend down in front of Eddie as he curses you out once more, you look back, murmuring an apology before standing up straight and beginning to make work of his clothes, jacket off, tie discarded and shirt unbuttoned, you pluck the remnants of the bullet out from his side.

Eddie grits his teeth together, hands curled into fists as he watches you work, your tweezers poking into his muscle. "If you would stop watching me so closely, maybe I could focus more and poke you less," you sass, looking up at his while blowing the hair out of your eye. Eddie fixes the stand behind your ear before raising his hand once more. "Well just a minute ago you were practically on your knees begging for me to look at you," Eddie responds with a smirk, you huff and maintain your work, gathering the last bits of metal before treating the area and wrapping his torso snuggly.

The Duke's blood stains your hands as you look down at them thoughtfully. The thick liquid cascades off your fingertips, falling onto your dress, marking a pair of birds. "You owe me a new dress," you say, wiping your hands with the small cloth the kit provided before taking a stand. You start to walk away before Eddie grasps your arm, you pause mid-step, feet now plated in wait.

"Thank you, Miss. Shelby. I will sign to never fix a game with your business if you promise to have a meeting with Miss. Glass and I," Edward compromises, letting go of your arm and watches as you walk towards the exit, "I don't think you are in any position to make compromises, nevertheless demands, Edward. But... I'll keep you updated on my decision," and with that you close the door softly behind yourself for him to get dressed. Pressing your forehead to the wooden surface, you grip your hands into fists before settling your head up high as you descend the stairs and move towards the coat room. You sneak your keys and coat before slipping out the side door and walk towards your car.

A series of hastened footsteps against the gravel have you rolling down the window to your Range Rover, foot on the brake, hands on the wheel- ready to make haste. You do your best not to be surprised when the Duke's face greets you on the other side, a I know something you don't smile resting on his features as you raise a brow to it.

"We never exchanged contacts," he states to you casually, as if it were the weather. You hum out, analyzing his statement while look out the windshield before looking back at him. Light rain begins to fall as you press a lingering kiss to his cheek, "I will find you in due time, you and Miss. Glass. Have a good night, your grace." And with that, you roll up your window, and drive off underneath the moonlight.

--

You take a deep sip of your drink as Ada sits still, mouth open as you swear to be losing circulation to you hand. Pins and needles start to form at your fingertips form how tightly she holds onto your hand. "Fuck, sis. Sounds like you got him good," Ada says, barley able to conceal her smile.

Shaking your head you take a deep sip of your near melted lemonade before clearing your throat and checking for the time, it would be an hour's drive from here, you both had to leave soon. "Well even if I have managed to, 'get him good...'" you raise your hands in quotations, starting to mock even the idea of you two together yet your heart speaks otherwise, beating rapidly in your chest as you recount the feeling of his lips on yours. The small hickey on your neck still bruised as you wonder if his has healed since then.

Ada raises a brow, watching as you absent-mindedly reach up towards your mark, fingers circling around the mark as you continue to speak, "...Tommy would never allow it-"

"Fuck what Tommy thinks, he's not you. Do YOU want to see him again?" Ada cuts you off, a serious look taking over every feature, tightening into sharp lines- as if daring you to say else-wise.

You refuse to meet her eyes, looking outside to the near empty tracks, "I mean..."

↳ Taglist: @daffodilstark @leavemeslowly @iamasimpingh0e @kneelarmhstrung @surazim

↳ A/N: What did you all think? I am quite happy with this being a standalone but I am willing to write a pt.2. If you have any ideas as to where it could go- send an ask, DM, or comment and I'll see what can be done further :) (i'm also taking a break soon... maybe... probably).

[letomills]

Download: SFS / Mega

[Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3]

These are the PU and CU conversions of the iamliz13 alpha-editable gowns that I did for TF-AF-EF here (please go to that post to see the swatches, clothing categories and texture credits).

PU and CU don't get all of the recolors that other ages and body shapes got: I left out "RCs 8 - Sherahbim The Lady" and "RCs 9 - AlmightyHat The Modest Lady" because of the conspicuous under-boob shadowing that makes no sense on flat-chested PU & CU meshes. I further omitted Beryllium's Red Wool Dress recolor for PU because the belt didn't play nice with the texture mapping for that mesh. The recolors they do get are tooltipped and available either standalone or repo'd to AF.

The meshes are included. Polycounts: PU: 2,038 - CU: 2,572. They were originally age-converted by Cynnix on the Plumb Bob Keep, though I made many polishing edits, especially on PU, from general shape to texture mapping to bone assignment.

The CU mesh got a brand-new fat morph.

~

I have no idea how I managed to get through this huge a set of dresses 12 times over for all these ages/body shapes but hopefully it's helpful to a lot of people out there.