#nursing jobs overseas

[think-europe2014]

Nursing Jobs Overseas: A Guide for Aspiring Healthcare Professionals

When considering nursing positions overseas, it's crucial to familiarize yourself with the country's specific regulations and requirements for working in the healthcare sector.

Think Europe Services understands the allure of nursing jobs overseas, particularly in sought-after destinations like Saudi Arabia. With a reputation for excellence in international recruitment, we specialize in connecting Indian nursing professionals with rewarding opportunities abroad.

In Gulf countries like Saudi Arabia, the demand for skilled nursing professionals remains consistently high. However, navigating the complex application procedures and regulations can be daunting for aspiring candidates. That's where Think Europe Services comes in. As a trusted nursing jobs overseas agency, we provide comprehensive support and guidance to help you secure your dream job in Saudi Arabia.

The demand for highly skilled nursing staff has seen a significant rise in recent years. Indian nursing professionals, in particular, are highly regarded in countries like Saudi Arabia. However, while there is a growing need for healthcare professionals overseas, navigating the landscape of available opportunities and securing a position can be challenging. Aspiring healthcare workers often require the support of experienced recruiters who can adeptly guide both novices and seasoned professionals toward exciting job prospects abroad.

Our team of experienced recruiters is well-versed in the intricacies of overseas nursing placements. We understand the specific requirements of healthcare sectors in Gulf countries and can effectively match candidates with suitable positions. Whether you're a novice or an experienced nurse, we'll work closely with you to ensure a smooth and successful transition to your new role abroad.

When it comes to nursing jobs overseas in Saudi Arabia, Think Europe Services is your trusted partner. We have established relationships with reputable healthcare institutions across the region, giving our candidates access to exclusive job opportunities. From assisting with visa applications to providing relocation support, we'll be with you every step of the way.

In Conclusion,

If you're in pursuit of nursing opportunities in Saudi Arabia, your initial step should involve finding a reputable recruitment firm with expertise in overseas placements within Saudi Arabia. Trustworthy recruitment firms, known for their unwavering professionalism, can provide you with the assurance of securing employment in foreign lands. It's prudent to gather comprehensive information about any recruitment firm before initiating contact, ensuring you're well-informed and confident in your choice when pursuing your overseas nursing career.

Think Europe Services understands the aspirations and challenges of nursing professionals seeking opportunities abroad. As a leading nursing jobs overseas agency, we specialize in connecting talented healthcare professionals with rewarding positions overseas. Our team of experienced recruiters is dedicated to providing personalized support and guidance throughout the job search and application process. With Think Europe Services by your side, you can confidently embark on your journey to a fulfilling nursing career overseas. If you're ready to take the next step towards a rewarding career in nursing, contact Think Europe Services today. Let us help you turn your overseas nursing dreams into reality.

[silenceismychoir]

the other day a doctor and a nurse at work were having a discussion about 'foreigners' and said they wish they could report them to the authorities instead of treat them. the conversation started because the nurse didnt know one of our patients was a 'foreigner'. this patient is a TWO YEAR OLD CHILD with a CARDIAC CONDITION but is undocumented. the doctor said 'why should we treat them just so they can die in this country? they should just die in their own country'. they feel more comfortable about a child dying in their own country than to treat an undocumented 'foreigner'. i couldn't help myself from telling them they were fucked up. they said i was young and this isn't an ideal world. and while this rhetoric isn't new among people in this country and definitely not new among healthcare workers, it never shocks me despite the many times ive heard it.

[arjunbnair]

Searching for lucrative nursing jobs abroad: the gateway to global healthcare opportunities.

The world of nursing has come a long way since the days of working in a hospital in your home town. Today, nursing jobs are popping up all over the world, offering exciting and fulfilling opportunities for healthcare professionals who want to take their skills abroad. In this article, we’ll look at why nursing jobs abroad are so popular and how they’ve become a great entry point into global healthcare for nurses who want to expand their knowledge and skills. The appeal of nursing jobs abroad There are many reasons why nursing jobs abroad have become so popular. First, they provide nurses with the opportunity to work in different healthcare settings, learn different techniques, and be exposed to a wide variety of medical conditions around the world. This global experience not only enhances a nurse’s professional development, but can also help them pay off student loans and save for future endeavors. Financial incentives are also a big factor in the popularity of nursing jobs abroad. Many countries, especially Middle East countries, offer very competitive salaries and benefits packages. These packages often include tax-free incomes, accommodation, healthcare benefits, and transportation allowances.

Various Nursing Positions Abroad

Internationally, a vast range of nursing jobs are accessible, accommodating different specializations and interests. Typical possibilities include:

Travel nursing: This enables nurses to take on brief assignments in other nations while learning about local cultures and healthcare systems. Permanent Placement: Nurses can find jobs abroad that are permanent, frequently in nations where there is a dearth of medical personnel. Volunteer nursing has a significant impact on global health since many nurses opt to offer their services in underdeveloped areas. Experienced nurses who want to share their knowledge and expertise with healthcare professionals in other nations can take on teaching and training responsibilities.

Frequently Visited Places for Nursing Jobs Abroad

Although there are nursing possibilities in many nations, several locations are renowned for their need for international nursing staff. These consist of:

United Arab Emirates: With excellent pay and a cutting-edge healthcare system, the UAE is a popular destination for nurses looking for opportunities abroad.

United States: The USA continues to be a prominent destination for nurses from around the world due to the ongoing demand for healthcare professionals.

United Kingdom: To help with staffing shortages in the country's healthcare system, the NHS accepts nurses from other countries.

Both Australia and Canada have strong healthcare systems and aggressively seek out foreign nurses to fill open posts.

Challenges and Thoughts to Consider On

Although the idea of nursing work overseas is thrilling, it's important to be aware of the difficulties that come with it. It might be difficult to acclimatize to diverse healthcare systems, cultural norms, and licensing requirements. When beginning an international nursing career, nurses should also take into account the effects on their personal life and families.

In conclusion, nursing positions overseas offer fantastic chances for nurses to advance their careers, encounter different cultures, and have a significant impact on the world of medicine. Nurses may open up a world of options in the healthcare industry with the correct training and attitude, and they can also reap financial benefits that can completely change their lives.

In the end, choosing a nursing career overseas is more than just a change of employment; it's a life-changing journey that enables nurses to serve as global healthcare ambassadors and advance healthcare systems around the world. Nursing jobs abroad may therefore be the next chapter in your wonderful journey if you're a nurse thinking about expanding your horizons.

[ajosoph]

Sri Lanka Manpower Recruitment Agency

[penelopepine]

Elephant in the Room

John Price x Fem Reader

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: John and you hooked up after a night at the bar. You two after that never saw each other again. At least until 12 years later when Price discovers that 9 months after your time together you had given birth to not one baby, but two. Word Count: 2234 Content: NSFW, p in v sex, MDNI

When Price walked into the bar he had expected the night to be like any other time. He was going to be going on practically a suicide mission in just few days. The higher ups have given the team the weekend to do as they please off base because of that, and he was planning on drinking the night away before going to his apartment. Spending the next morning nursing a hangover by himself. 

That's not what happened though because that is the night he met you. Sitting at the bar all alone looking absolutely stunning. It was clear though that you were waiting on someone based on how you were constantly looking from your phone to the door. Price fully intended to leave you alone because of that, but after 10 minutes with your frown only growing with every second he couldn't stop himself. 

“Something on your mind, love?” He slid into a chair at the bar, but not wanting to scare you he left a seat empty between the two of you. “You seem awfully interested in that door over there.” 

His sudden appearance and question brings you out of your head, and causes you to slightly jump in your seat. You turn your head to look at him with a gentle but uncertain smile, “Oh! I’m just waiting for a date, but … it seems like he might not be coming.” 

“He’s a fool to pass up a chance to get to know you.” He watches as a more genuine smile blossoms on your face now, “Can I buy you a drink? I’ll promise you right now that I’m not a fool.” 

It’s then that you shift into the empty seat between the two of you, your body now facing him, and nod your head to his question as well as giving him your name.. Price immediately raises his hand slightly to get the bartender's attention; his eyes never leave yours though as he tells you his name as well. 

The night progressed from there with your date nowhere in sight, and even if he did show up Price wasn't going to let you go so easily. Not when just being in your presence has already brought him so much joy. How that bloke let you sit here alone he doesn't know, but he's not going to complain now that it's him who gets to be here with you. 

"You know why I'm here, but what about you? Why are you here all by yourself." 

Price takes a deep breath before answering; wondering just how much he should reveal to you, "This just seemed like the best thing to do right now. I'm going to be overseas for a few months, military." He explains as best as he can while keeping things vague. It'd definitely be a mood killer if he talked about how this mission might be his last. 

"Military? That's gotta be an interesting job, Private." Your voice is filled with mischief as you address  him

"Lieutenant actually." Price growls out while leaning towards you. He makes sure to put your legs in between his; effectively caging you into your seat. 

You grin up at him, and place one of your hands on his upper thigh, “You’re the one giving the orders then? I’m good at following orders.” 

It takes everything in Price to not bend you over this bar counter to see just how good you are at following orders. He wasn’t expecting to spend the night with you, but he wasn’t going to deny himself the opportunity if you were offering. 

He gives your body an obvious look up and down, “I’d like to see you prove it.”

It was no surprise soon after that that you two were then stumbling into your apartment

Price clashed his mouth on yours as soon as the door was shut. You lead him to the bedroom while you two throw off your jackets and shoes along the way; never once breaking away from each other. 

Hurriedly he removes the clothes that you were wearing along with your bra leaving you in only your panties. With one more sloppy kiss he lifts you up and throws you down onto the bed before removing all of his own clothes.  Making sure to take an old condom out of his wallet and place it on your side table for later use.

Standing at the end of the bed he can’t help but just take a few moments to just look how pretty you look splayed out. “You ready, love.” Price groans while stroking his cock; maintaining eye contact with you the whole time. 

“I’m ready, please just touch me!” 

Climbing onto the bed he slowly makes his way up your body. Starting with your ankles, Price kisses up your leg; making sure to suck some deep marks onto your thighs before finally focusing on your clothed pussy. He can’t help himself and sticks his nose deep into your sex and takes a deep sniff. “Be careful what you wish for.” 

Before you can even respond, Price is giving your Pussy a wet open mouth kiss; absolutely soaking and ruining the panties that you're wearing. 

“Ah, John!” You cry out immediately gripping his hair and wrapping your thighs around his head to keep him in place. “More, please.” 

“You’ll take what you’re given sweet thing. Now be patient and just enjoy yourself while I get a taste of this pretty cunt.” He grunted before taking this time to finally remove your panties. Revealing your glistening pussy lips to him. 

Not even a second later Price’s mouth is back on your cunt. He teases your hole with his tongue; poking at it with a light amount of pressure. Wanting to feel how your hole twitches every time his tongue enters you. 

He reveals in your moans and pleases for more. 

When Price is done with his teasing he adjusts his grip on your thighs and plunges his tongue fully inside of you; he even moves his nose so that it directly applies constant pressure to your clit. 

“Ah! I’m gonna cum! I can’t- Please!”

“Cum sweetheart, cum on my tongue. Let me taste it.” He begs of you. 

Immediately after he says that you’re thighs are practically crushing his skull as he continues to tongue fuck you through your orgasm. Not stopping until your body goes limp. Only then does Price move up, stopping at your breast giving each nipple a harsh bite. Finally though he comes face to face with you. “Open up.’ 

Without hesitation you do as well; allowing him to devour your mouth while his hands move to grope at your chest. 

“John, please” You whine between breaths

“I’ll give you what you need, sweetheart don’t you worry. Just keep laying here looking pretty.” Grabbing one of your ankles in hand straight up while the other one rests on his hip. With his free hand he moves it to your cunt, and thumbs your slit up and down. Teasing your clit every time he is close to it; always rubbing around it and never directly hitting it. 

After a few seconds of this Price finally slides a finger inside of you, and then a second. “How does that feel sweetheart?” He asks with hard and fast movements. 

“It’s- it feels-,” You gasp after a particularly hard thrust, “good! It feels so good; don’t stop!” 

He continues to finger your cunt; getting you nice and loose for what’s to come. Once you’re stretched enough for his likeness Price takes his fingers out, and brings them up to your mouth. Obediently you open your mouth and happily begin to suck on them. While you do he begins to lightly thrust his fingers as well. 

Price is ready for the main event though, and takes his fingers out to grab the condom to put it on. He then moves both hands to grab an ankle each. Extending them wide, giving him plenty of room to do as he pleases. 

Lining himself up he slowly thrusts his hips forward; wanting you to feel every inch he’s giving you. 

“John!” You gasp out, “faster, more, please.” 

“You want faster, love? Want more?” He growls with a slow drag out of your pussy till just the tip is still inside. “Then take it.” 

Price in a flash releases your ankles letting them now rest on his shoulders. Practically putting you in the perfect mating press. Allowing him plenty of movement to thrust harshly back inside of you. He doesn’t go easy on you anymore, he’s not going to stop now, not when you begged so prettily for this.  

Your breath stuttered with each hard thrust that was punching straight at your cervix. At the same time Price had shoved his face into your neck, and was determined to leave you with marks that would last for days. 

“You’re doing so good, love. Your cunt is squeezing around me so tight.” He moans out into your ear before giving your earlobe a playful nibble.

A breathless laugh escapes you as he does, “I’m so close, John, so close.” 

“Do it. Cum on my cock; I want to feel your pussy pulsing on it.” 

Following his command perfectly he feels you clench tightly on his cock. He continues to fuck you through your orgasm. Not far behind from his own orgasm he quickly pulls out and cums right onto your swollen cunt. 

You both are panting by now, and Price rests his forehead on yours. Your body now lays limp beneath his, and before he rolls over to lay down beside you he slowly gets up. Making his way to the bathroom he grabs a rag, and returns to clean you up. 

All you do is give a slight whine when he gently cleans up your lower half.  Once done he’s honestly not sure if he should leave or not. That wasn’t really something that was discussed, and that last thing he wants right now is to make the wrong move. Even though leaving is the last thing he wants to do right he knows that in the end it’s probably for the best. 

You must have noticed his hesitancy on what to do because the next thing he knows you're grabbing him by the wrist, and tugging him into the bed beside you. Price happily lets you pull him in; he pulls you close to his chest once you're both laying down. He doesn’t think he’s even had such a peaceful sleep before; everything just seems brighter with you. Which makes it all that more painful when he knows that this isn’t going to last forever. 

-

Come morning Price wakes up and the last thing he sees is you curled up into him. He takes his time just taking in your relaxed features. It makes him truly appreciate your beauty. While he does he thinks about what his next move should be. Price can’t leave you just yet. 

So what he does then is slowly extract himself from your arms, putting on his boxers, and makes his way to your kitchen hoping he can make some kind of breakfast for the two of you. 

It’s some time after when he’s almost done with cooking do you make an appearance; seemingly only wearing his shirt. 

“Good morning, handsome.” You mumble your words into his back as you come and wrap your arms around him from behind. “Happy to see you’re still here.” 

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me too, sweetheart.” Price means it too, he doesn’t want to leave you just yet. 

“And if I want you to stay for the rest of the weekend; maybe have some more fun?”

He turns around in your arms, and brings your body close to his as he goes for a deep kiss, “then I’d say I’m yours for the weekend.” 

“I like the sound of that.” You say between kisses and rub one of your hands on his chest. “We could have some more fun now.” 

Not needing to be told anymore, Price is turning off the stove; setting the food to the side. Breakfast for dinner was always more fun anyway he thinks to himself as you both go racing to the bedroom once more. 

-

All good things must come to an end though, and before he knew it it was time for him to leave. It was about 5 am, and after he had finished getting himself dressed Price took a few seconds to just look at you. He made his way to your side, and placed a gentle kiss on your head. 

He knew you expected at least a goodbye from him after everything, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to give that to you. If he did he knew he would want more, and so he made his way to your front door to leave. 

Before Price even finished shutting the door he knew that you would be the one that got away. He had no clue what the future held though, and the last thing he wanted was for his death to affect you. If that means being the asshole that left without a word after a weekend of puppy love and sex then so be it. 

If only he had known what he was walking away from at that moment. 

12 Years Later…

Taglist: @zarsghost

[lulunothulu]

There's not many Glen Powell stories could you do one for me plz:)

So Glen and Reader have been dating about a year. she's not in the entertainment industry she is just a RN he ask her to join him for the press tour for Twitters overseas. She goes with Glen to do some interviews and over hears a conversation where people think she is just with Glen for the money and everyone sees it. She's never asked Glen for money or help but he does occasionally do things for her out of love. She starts to pick up alot of extra shifts at the hospital and dip into her savings to afford all that stuff for the press tour to the point she's passes out one day after working 3 doubles in a row. Glen shows up and ask why she has been working so much and she comes clean about what she heard and how she dipped into her saving to afford the trip. He comforts her and makes her feel better and let's her know he knows she loves him for him and not his money and he asked her to come on the trip bc he wanted her there and he loves her and he loves to spoil her that's not gonna change.

I absolutely LOVE this one 😭 as a former ER worker I live for this.

“Just ordinary”

Glen Powell x Reader

“So Glen,” the interviewer asks. “Who are you bringing to the London premiere?”

Glen smiles, looking behind the interviewer to where you stand with his publicist behind the stage.

“I’m bringing my girlfriend, Y/N,” he smiles, winking in your direction.

You make a mental note to check how much flights would cost but smile back at him.

“Ooo! What does she do? Is she an actress?”

“She’s actually an ER nurse,” he boasts. “I’m so lucky to have her in my life and to be able to feel so safe with her around me.”

“I bet,” they say. “Having someone there to nurse you to health even if you’re not sick must be so rewarding.”

“It is!” He beams. “I love that she takes care of me and makes sure I stay healthy. It also helps when I get injured on the job.”

“That’s so sweet,” they tell him. “Well, that’s all the time we have today. Make sure you catch Twisters in theaters near you!”

After the interview, Glen walks up to where you’re waiting and interlaces his fingers with yours before pulling you close to kiss you deeply.

“We’re almost done, I just have to do some mini interviews outside and then we can head home.”

You nod, and smile up at him. You knew the drill. After an interview inside, there would be fans all over the place, begging for pictures, as well as other interviewers waiting outside.

You follow him out the building and mentally prepare yourself for the screens and flashing lights of cameras. Next to you, Glen holds your hand tightly—not only making sure you’re next to him, but also safe. Glen hands you off to his mom who’s waiting behind him before walking up to some fans.

You smile at Cyndy. “I don’t know how you do it all the time. It’s so loud.”

She laughs. “Yeah I don’t know either. But to see how happy he gets when they all flock to him is the highlight of it all.”

You smile. You knew exactly what that feeling was like. Seeing Glen in his element and interacting with the people that got him to where he is now, felt amazing to watch.

———

You both follow him down the line of people, chatting to each other until you hear someone to the left say something that makes your blood turn cold.

“Yeah, I don’t see what he sees in her,” a teenage girl says to her friend. “She must be searching for money or something because there’s no way Glen would be with someone so ordinary like her. She’s not even that pretty.”

“Yeah, I agree. She seems like such a golddigger. Like where did she even come from?” Her friend responds.

You stop in your tracks at that, Cyndy’s brows furrow in their direction and she wraps an arm around your waist.

“Don’t listen to them. That’s just jealousy talking,” she whispers in your ear.

You only nod, scared if you spoke, you’d cry. Instead, you and Cyndy walk toward the car that’s meant to drive you all back to Glen’s house and wait for Glen there.

By the time he joins you all, you’re barely speaking and holding it together. On the car ride back to his place, you text your charge nurse, Kathy, and ask her to put you in the schedule for the whole week.

Kathy: are you sure? That’s a lot of hours and you’ll be exhausted by the end of it all.

You: trust me, I need the distraction and the money. I’ll be fine.

Kathy: alright, you’re set up for the whole week.

You sigh to yourself, earning a light nudge and smile from Glen.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

You smile up at him and lean onto his shoulder. “Yeah, just got a text that I’ll be working all week.”

“Oh no,” he says. “Can you find a replacement?

“Unfortunately no,” you tell him. “We’ve been so short staffed, they’d barely let me leave for lunch.”

“Hopefully all that overtime means you can come with me to London next week.”

You only smile and nod.

The thing about dating Glen that you never got used to was the way that he’d pay for everything you two did. You knew there was an imbalance when it came to money but never brought it up because he’d always been so happy to pay for everything. But after hearing what those two girls were saying…. Your pride, or something like it, felt like it was wrong to let it continue to happen.

You didn’t want to seem like a gold digger after all.

With this week of twelve hour shifts, you’d be able to afford the ticket, maybe some souvenirs?

Maybe I should text Kathy to set me up for sixteen hour shifts all week.

You text her when you get back to Glen’s place.

———

By the time Wednesday rolls around, you know asking for a week of work plus adding four more hours to your shifts was a mistake.

Glen tried to stay up and wait for you, but he’d be fast asleep in bed by the time you got out of the shower.

On top of not being able to really see him, you yourself were exhausted. Your body becoming so tired, even sitting down was hard because you’d fall asleep. So instead of sitting down during your shift, you’d stand.

At the end of your shift on Wednesday, you could barely keep your eyes open on the drive back home. And when you did get home, you didn’t even bother getting out of your scrubs before collapsing onto the couch and falling asleep.

“This is normal, mom,” you hear Glen say faintly. “She’s working herself to death and I’m just…I’m worried for her.”

The next morning, you rub your eyes when your alarm blares in your ear. Sitting up from the couch, you race to the shower, peeling off your scrubs from the night before, and quickly showering to wake yourself up.

When you step out of the bathroom, you find Glen standing there with a cup of coffee ready for you.

“Good morning, baby,” he says, kissing you.

“Did I wake you?” You ask, taking the cup and sipping.

“No, I’ve been waking up early to make sure you get everything you need for work,” he tells you.

“Thank you,” you smile. You look down at your watch and sigh. “I have to get going.”

“I packed you lunch and extra clothes so that you don’t have to shower when you get home. Maybe you’ll sleep in the bed tonight?” His eyes are hopeful and you can’t help but feel so bad.

He’s doing all of this for you and yet you’re trying to avoid him—to an extent.

“I’ll try to,” you tell him. “I’ve just been so tired to walk up the stairs.”

“Then I’ll set something up for us before you get home,” he tells you. He kisses you before adding, “I’ll see you later.”

———

You’re halfway into your shift when you get the trauma of the day, maybe even the year.

You’re running, trying to grab the necessary supplies you need for the CPR that’s on its way when you suddenly feel the world begin to spin out from under you.

One second you’re stuffing you pockets with extra flushes and vials for bloodwork, the next your vision is blurring and going black.

When you finally wake up, you’re at the hospital still but in a room. The beeping of the monitor next to you grounds you in reality enough look around the room. Glen sits in a chair on the other side of you, worry and fear painted all over his face.

“Glen?” You croak.

“Oh my god,” he says, turning you and grabbing your hand. “Are you feeling okay?”

“For the most part,” you mumble. “What happened?”

“Kathy told me you fainted from exhaustion,” he tells you. “You shouldn’t have been working so many hours so close together. You could’ve gotten seriously hurt. You’re lucky someone was there to break your fall.”

He sighs, running his hand through his hair before asking, “What were you thinking working so many hours for so long?”

“I don’t know,” you lie.

“Yes you do. Tell me,” he urges.

You sigh, rubbing your eyes before looking at him. “I can’t afford to go to London.”

“I’ll pay for your ticket,” he quickly says.

“Glen, I don’t want you to.” This was going to be hard. “I want to pay for myself.”

“I don’t mind doing it, baby.” He searches your face before adding, “There’s more, isn’t there?”

“Yes,” you answer. You squeeze your eyes shut before opening them and taking his hand in yours again. “I don’t want you to think I’m a gold digger.”

“Why would I think that?”

“Because you pay for everything!” You exclaim. “I don’t think it’s fair that you spend money on me and I can’t do the same for you.”

Glen smiles at you, kissing the inside of your wrist. “Y/N, there’s nothing that makes me happier than paying for everything. If I get to spoil you by taking you to London or paying for our dinners and rent, then that means I’m doing my job. I never want you to feel like you’re freeloading or being a gold digger around me.”

He tilts your head back to face him completely before continuing. “Baby don’t ever feel like that’s what you are because you’re not. I’m so grateful to do it for you. In fact, I love doing it.”

“Are you sure?” You ask.

“Very,” he tells you. “So you can stop with the extra shifts. I already talked to Kathy about giving the rest of the week off.”

Tears prick your eyes as you pull him in for a kiss.

“I love you so much.”

“And I love you more,” Glen says. “But don’t do that again. Please?”

You laugh. “I promise I won’t.”

[wnobin]

NO BUNNY BUT YOU! 🐰

petsitter! wonbin x fem! reader

series synopsis: your friends refuse to look after your bunnies, tokki and dokki, while you’re on an overseas programme for a week. luckily, winter knows the right person for the job.

smau with some written portions, aespa members are reader’s friend group. riize members are all veterinary students while reader and friends are nursing students!

feel free to leave a comment or ask to be added into the taglist!

status: COMPLETED!

wonbin and friends 🐈 | reader and friends 🐰

part one: hai every bunny!

part two | god had to nerf him

part three | wonbunny agenda

part four | maybe bunnies aren’t that bad

part five | marry me

part six | On my way!

part seven | jealous

part eight | dropping out

part nine | wonnie and binnie

part ten | wonbin belieber

part eleven | one less lonely girl guy

[willowed-wisp]

Home - one-shot [ghost]

MASTERLIST

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x reader/you

WARNINGS: smut. angst, mentions of death

It would take more than steam to calm you down. Or scalding water… or the bubbles…

You wondered if it would ever get old- the worrying…

The unknown.

It should have taken all but six months of being with him to realise how overcome with grief you were when he was sent overseas on classified, top secret missions.

But as the months- years- go by of him nestled against you in bed before being ripped away at the flip of a switch, it became apparent that you would never know the true nature of his K.I.A.

Hopefully that never happened.

You think maybe the bath wasn’t the best choice to release your nerves- a barrel of worst case scenarios…

The only reason why you hadn’t walked out the door of your shared house was just him. The man who you’d met in hospital- him the unwilling patient and you the nurse who had to put up with his bullshit. Truly the worst patient you had ever had, Simon Riley was never the type to accept help- something you’d learn swiftly.

Despite that, you still accepted the advances of this tall, hulking man.

The next day you were in a pub with him, learning he indeed knew how to perform stitches but a Scotsman had abandoned him at the hospital to get medical treatment.

On that first ‘date’, he kissed you. Nothing more nothing less.

After that you didn’t hear from the broad accented man for over a month. ‘Another time getting ghosted’, you thought.

Until he appeared outside your apartment door one day, a skull printed balaclava covering his face. But you knew those big puppy dog eyes, you saw them in your dreams. His lips…

Oh god, you missed his lips. Their heat, how they fitted and curved just how you needed them.

Over that half decade of knowing Simon you had grown accustomed to them being used for more than kissing. That’s why your middle finger grafted circles.

You would be sweating from the molten memories, but the sauna of a bathroom had that covered.

Remembering his taste, his roughness… that intensity of having his whole undivided affection.

Big brown eyes watching you come undone on his tongue, fingers or cock… time and time again. Countless amounts of times.

You didn’t know you were crying or that another hand had replaced yours, rubbing the bundle of nerves, “You couldn’t wait for me t’ get back…” Low, sensual and you slipped lower into the water. Mostly in shock, a tad by being a klutz.

Your heart hammered slow, breath quicker as his body… that perfect, damaged body slipped in behind you. Large hands at either side of your hips, head feeling fuzzy you rested against his broad shoulders as he lifted you onto his bare lap.

How long had he been watching? Clearly enough to strip down, even his mask on the floor.

You attempted to get words out but his thumb over powered you. Teasing your wet core, lapping over that sensitive bud; reading your moans. His cock begging to release its tension. But no thoughts mustered in your head, his fingers- long and thick and scarred- scissoring open that tightness, “You’ve got t’ relax, luvie… so fucking tight…” How could you relax with this soldier behind you?

Your silence spoke as much- you were furious at him. He keeps leaving you for weeks on end and you never know if he’s coming back with his bags or in a body bag… “I didn’t know if you were dead, Si,” that cut through the built up tension with a knife. His actions stopped, his chin leaning on your shoulder. Thumbs patterning the skin of your thighs- numb murmurs of tickles along your flesh. “You didn’t contact me, to let me know you were alright…” The water grew cold, so you stood. His eyes glued to your back, maybe other parts of your body.

Though, you felt colder than the ice. You loved him, would die for him… sometimes you just hated his job, not him.

The night terrors he had when off-duty, holding him for hours on end… knowing you would fall asleep but he never would.

Scars, beautiful as they were, he came home with a new set of them. She turned to him, and it looked like he got caught up in an explosion.

He towered over you, you swore he would make anyone feel tiny but knowing what he can do to you first hand… you were slick again. Even with the new brandish on his V-line, “Grenade? Molotov?” You grabbed for a towel, facing away deliberately. Venom on your tongue.

Warmth spread over your shoulders, tension kneaded away, “Calm down… an’ how’d ya know it was a Molotov?” It was difficult to ignore his intoxicating smile in the mirror. Shoulders swamped by his wider frame, his tattoos brandishing his sleeve. It was impossible to remain fuming at Simon. “‘t was only first degree, no hard shit…”

“You’ve been hanging out with MacTavish too much…”

“Ever try mind readin’?”

“Must’ve to put up with you,” his hand dragged down, back to between your thighs. “Si, I’m-,” you became hoisted up, cradled in his arms. Like he did the day you moved into your house two years ago. “Try eating me out and you’ll lose your neck…”

There you were, mewling his name with your thighs draped over his shoulders. Back flush against the duvet fabric, he looked delicious on his knees. “Tastes like fuckin’ honey,” Barely able to hear him over the drumming in your ears but you always would… like this you were at his mercy- and you both craved it.

He flicked that spot, over and over. Suckling patches of purple onto your apex. Pain that had your nails scraping at his shoulders, up to the shaven underside. Gripping onto the blonde, earning a moan from your soldier. “I fucking need you, Si!” Head thrown back, teeth gritted as you toppled over the edge. His tongue lacing you through the orgasm. Legs akimbo, enough to see those puppy dog eyes glazed over. Caged in lust.

Tongue in a stripped lick, up to your breasts. Distracting from him lining up, “Let me return the favour-,” your efforts strangled. A high pitch moan followed, tears fizzled the corners of your eyes. A straight thrust and you were clinging onto the scars and the muscles at your disposal.

Foreheads joined- maybe for support on his end. Definitely on yours. “I fuckin’ love you…” he hummed against your lips. “I’m finally home…”

[lottiies]

life is beautiful, but you don’t have a clue

⇢ getting all bruised up and battered with minimum medical aid from the government is brutal. leon doesn’t believe he deserves to be helped, though. after months of hiding these moments of vulnerability from you, he lets finally lets you in, knowing deep down that you wouldn’t turn him away

cw: fem!reader, established relationship, leon’s alcohol dependency and low self-worth, religious guilt, attempts to hide depression, brief description of wounds, angst, comfort and reassurance, patching him up, small snippet with chris, 3.2k wc

note: i promise there’s more to me than just writing ooc smut for him 😞 i rewatched vendetta and omg i want to hug him so bad. (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ ) i’m not sure if the small font is too straining on the eyes, if it is, lmk!! i’ll change it back to the regular sized one. if you see typos, no you didn’t

divider below is by @/cafekitsune!!

just how many confessionals and assigned prayers would it take for leon to be forgiven for all his wrong doings? probably more than he could keep track of. then again, he hasn’t clasped his hands together and recited a muttered chant for redemption in ages. the belief in a savior dissipated alongside his naive outlook in life once upon a time.

he had laid on a cold hard mattress for hours in the infirmary made specifically for DSO agents. the nurses didn’t give him much care, though. he was patched up, prescribed some pain killers, and sent home. the recovery period was over a month long, but he knew he wouldn’t actually be granted that much rest before he had to be back in action.

two broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder. he’s dealt with those same conditions time and time again, but it never got any easier, especially as he got older. he was busy basking in his misery, longing for only two things: the bitter taste of alcohol on his tongue, and his girlfriend’s soothing presence.

he tried to keep this part of him hidden, he was ashamed. he had already opened up to you about his job, and how he would be away for long periods. what he didn’t tell you was that those said long periods usually included his recovery, so you didn’t have to see him all broken and battered. he usually kept all the lights in his house off even when the evening approached, so you wouldn’t know he was back in town if you happened to drive by his place.

the two of you had gotten together a year and a half ago, and he used to be more…stable. he feared you’d up and leave him if you found out how bad it had gotten for him.

but the thing is, he knew you would take care of him. your love for him was unconditional, and he didn’t know whether to be grateful for it or to feel sorry for you. after all, he was known to have occasional outbursts of irritation, being on edge from all his baggage and his frequent doses of hard liquor. but he wasn’t a bad man, he just needed some TLC.

he could nurse his good ol’ mind numbing beverages stored coldly in his fridge all he wanted, but it wouldn’t make him feel any better. in fact, his self-hatred only grew once he found himself depending on alcohol. in his head, he chose to rely on a drink to feel a buzz. in reality, that was far from the truth. a man like him was drowning in the depths of his baggage. PTSD, survivor’s guilt, and alcohol didn’t mesh well.

it was you who kept him sane, really.

you were the skin-kissing sun after a harsh thunderstorm, like a balm to his traumatized and guilt ridden soul. you saw him for who he was, the selfless and love-yearning man he had always been, not a grouchy killing-machine like some people started to view him as of late.

even when he was overseas, your love always managed to reach him.

it was those heartfelt text messages and voicemails he often received that made him tread through his missions carefully, he knew there was someone back home worth living for.

voicemails:

“hi leon! i know you said you might not have internet connection over there or that your phone might break but…um…i dunno, there’s a chance you’ll hear this, so might as well, right? i really miss you. i was procrastinating during my job the other day, yeah boo me…but i made a list of some movies we can watch when you’re back in town. maybe you can come over and we can cuddle on my couch all night, hehe. anyway, i hope you’re okay. i really don’t want you to get hurt or anything. call me when you fly back in?”

“oh shit, is this voicemail? [incoherent mumbling] uh, okay yeah. hi leon, i’m at rite aid right now. i don’t wanna sound nosy but i saw some of the bloodied medical tape you left in my trash and…and i just got worried and wondered if you needed anything? maybe you didn’t want to concern me but, tell me next time okay? let’s see…there’s a lot of different brands, i dont know which one you’d like. call me back ASAP, i’m gonna stay here for a bit longer just in case you do. bye, i love you!”

“okay i figured you wouldn’t pick up. i know it’s like four am but i just woke up and my dream was about us! it went like…like…oh shit. i think i forgot already, bummer!” silence, and some hums. “i literally just had the dream like five seconds ago and i can’t remember it anymore. i’m pissed! anyway, see you tomorrow? or today, technically. bye!”

messages:

found this meme and it reminded me of you…wait do you even know what a meme is? ha, loser

here’s the link to the letterboxd website i told you about earlier!

come overrrr, i’m off work at 8 today. unless my asshole of a coworker shows up late again, ugh

you left your jacket at my house, it’s mine now!!!

not sure if you fell asleep already but please text me back when you can and when you’re sober. ik we just had an argument but we should talk it over, i want everything to be okay between us, i love you. you’re not mad at me are you??

replaying those sweet voicemails was like a remedy, providing such raw tenderness that nothing else in the universe could. you were the epitome of an angel walking the earth, keeping him from falling into the pits of hell by visiting his dreams whenever fell asleep all splayed out on his floor with an empty bottle by his side. it should be you snuggled against him instead, on a bed.

while you gave leon all your sweet love, there were other people working behind the scenes, dishing out some tough love to leon. like chris, who had hit rock bottom once and didn’t want leon to fall prey to the same thing.

“and how about your girl? you really think she’ll want to deal with you being like this all the time?” chris asked, his voice more agitated than mad. he wasn’t angry, just worried and wanting to push the truth into leon’s head. he had found leon sitting on his ass with a drink too many times to be considered a brief stress relief.

“leave her outta this.” leon scoffed, turning off his phone (he had been staring at his wallpaper that was a picture of you.) “i don’t let her see this side of me.”

“side? leon, it’s not just a side. it’ll consume you whole. what happens when it becomes your whole life, huh? what happens when you start disappearing all the time?”

“get off my ass, chris.” leon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to not lash out. “i came here for some peace and quiet, not for you to nag at me like you’re my mother.”

“i’m not trying to–” chris cut himself off, unsure of how to get across to leon. leon was absolutely miserable, the only time chris saw some hope in his eyes was whenever he soberly rambled about you. “i’m just saying that you’ve got a good thing going for you, and i don’t want you to ruin it by not trying to get better.”

silence, so chris spoke up again. “she cares about you. so try to care about yourself too, okay? i’ve been there, i see myself in you. i know it’s not your fault that you’ve turned to alcohol. but, let her in, let her help.”

leon looked down at his glass, watching his own reflection, some guilt burning in his gut. he hung his head a bit, looking like a kitten that had just gotten in trouble. he knew chris was right.

maybe this once, he could break the cycle of hiding and cowering. his throat felt dry as he reached for his phone, wincing a bit at the shock of pain the movement caused.

his fingers struggled to tap his cracked screen, the brightness of it making his nose scrunch and eyes squint. eventually, he found the phone app, you were at the top of his list, and he dialed.

…

“leon!! hi, hold on, lemme turn my TV off, i was watching a podcast.” and surely enough, he could hear the background noise lower until it was gone completely and your heavenly voice was filling his ears again. “okay, done. i can’t believe you’re calling, i’ve been waiting all week! how are you? not hurt or anything, i hope? need me to pick you up from the airport or?”

his lips twitched, threatening to turn into a small smile at your bombardment of questions. but he bit it back, feeling undeserving of such happiness. your voice overpowered the weak buzzing of his fan and the wind that rusted outside.

“uh, no.” his voice sounded hoarse, so he tried to clear it. “i’m actually at home, was wondering if you could come over? i…kind of need some help. only if you can, i don’t want to bother you.”

the silence that lingered made him feel tense, his heart pumping so loud that the noise reached his ears. then he heard some shuffling over the phone, as well as some keys jingling.

“be there in fifteen.”

it was just like you to drop everything to help someone else, no questions asked (at least not yet.) god, he loved you.

his world had felt muted before you, devoid of any color and saturation. but every time you he thought of you, suddenly colors were blooming as if he was a blank canvas and your paintbrush strokes were bringing him to life and giving him a purpose.

waiting fifteen minutes felt like an hour, maybe because he was counting down the time on his fucked up lock screen. the numbers looked wonky, he could barely make them out. his watch was broken too, no luck there. having no concept of time, even for a moment, felt weird.

he eventually heard his front door lock twisting. he had given you a spare key just in case, he trusted that you would never snoop through his things or take advantage of that privilege.

“um, hello? leon?” you sounded worried.

“god, it’s dark in here…” you then mumbled, splaying your hand against the wall and searching for his light switch. a couple seconds later and bingo, the sudden bright light left you disoriented for a while.

“i’m on the couch. just…don’t say anything, please?”

your brows furrowed at his request, and you rushed on over, your shoes thudding against his wooden floor. surely enough, there he was, laying on his back with agony written on his features. he had his leather jacket off, his arms having nips and tears all over. small ones, at least, but still collectively all painful.

“oh leon…” a worried mutter fell from your lips, and you kneeled down, the harshness of the hard cold floor not even registering because you were too engrossed in him.

you didn’t want to cry in front of him, not when he was the one suffering. but the pain you felt in your chest for seeing your sweetheart look so defeated just had you getting a bit teary. leaning forward, you planted a kiss on his forehead, your hand raising to stroke the crown of his head. his hair was a bit knotted.

he leaned into your touch like a puppy, letting out a pleased sigh. your affection felt like a gift in a bow after the way he had been slammed around by infected enemies earlier.

“what happened? i—“ okay, he said no questions. you could save the context seeking ones for later, but you did have to know what was wrong. “where are you hurt?”

he didn’t dare look into your eyes, knowing that it would break him. he was looking down further at your neck though, so his gaze was at least on you.

“everywhere.” he managed to croak out with a dry chuckle. um, not helping. “if we’re talking specifics though, the doc told me i broke two ribs on my left side. i also dislocated my left shoulder, they put it back into place but um…y’know, it still hurts like hell.”

after taking a breath to compose yourself, you nodded and stood up. “okay. do you have an ice pack?”

leon nodded. “in my freezer.”

you went off to fetch it, also taking one of leon’s small kitchen towels and wrapping it around the ice pack before placing it onto the coffee table. then, you went to his bedroom, getting two of his pillows and the first aid kit in his bedside drawer.

his eyes lit up when you returned. you were so nurturing it made him want to sob into your arms. but he’d open up to you one step at a time, one day at a time.

“can you…can you try sitting up just a bit? you’re supposed to be a bit propped up.”

well, that wasn’t the worst he’s had to do with a broken rib. he could manage. with a grunt of pain, leon slowly propped himself up, giving you some time to slide the two pillows in.

“there we go.” with a small smile, you couldn’t resist but place another kiss against his forehead. it made him feel good, it was like all your gestures were doses of ibuprofen.

the coldness of the icepack had seeped into the towel. and you gently applied it to his left side, your eyes lifting to meet his face to watch for any indicators you might be hurting him.

“down or up?” you asked him, moving the ice pack up further. he hadn’t told you which ribs had been broken, after all.

“down, please.”

you hummed, moving it back down and letting it rest there.

“how do you know so much about this?” he asked. sure, an icepack was probably a no brainer but you seemed so sure of yourself by making him sit up more.

“google works wonders.” you shrugged alongside your answer. “i just figured some knowledge on the most common injuries would be good for me to learn since your job is pretty dangerous. call me psychic but i saw this in my future.”

some brief moments of quietness washed over afterwards, making him feel unsettled. were you angry because he had often kept his bedridden moments from you? he couldn’t tell.

“i’m sorry.” his apology hung in the room, every one of his nerves feeling on edge.

but it was your warm and gentle touch on his face that had him crawling out of his low self-worth and into reality. a reality where someone loved and cherished all parts of him from his darkest to brightest days. you.

“what are you sorry for?” your question was spoken through a whispered tone of voice. “you’re out here risking your life and saving people whose names you don’t even know, yet you’re apologizing?”

you kneeled down again so you could be closer to him, stroking the side of his face with your knuckles. “i wish you had told me, but i think i can understand why you didn’t. i don’t want you to feel like you have to hide this from me. you know i’m here for you.”

“i…i know.” he didn’t doubt how much you cared for him, but it was hard to feel like he deserved someone as great as you. what did he have to offer?

“c’mon, look at me.” you pleaded, having taken note of the way his pretty blue eyes hadn’t met yours even once.

he blinked, his eyes darting around a bit. he bit his bottom lip nervously before releasing it. it was only when he felt your hand slide down to hold his that he finally mustered the courage looked into your eyes.

he looked broken, but willing. a small glimmer in his eyes that begged for devotion and comfort, for his angel to continue guiding him even when he lost his path. to not be cast aside like he was replaceable. he couldn’t leave his job or the hell that was his life even if he wanted to, but you made life worth living.

you gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “i love you, leon. through sickness and health.”

you couldn’t suppress the desire to kiss him yet again, this time scattering them all over his face. your affection brought a surge of joy over him.

the wedding vow reference made him crack a grin. he chuckled a bit even though it caused his injured body discomfort. “i love you too.”

“did you think i wouldn’t help you?”

while you asked the question, your eyes skimmed over his body. his clothes were nipped at, the tears revealing some patches of his skin that had dried up blood or that were bruised. geez. you just wanted to cling to him, but you knew that would only strain him.

“i knew you would.” he began, watching as you stood up and disappeared back into the kitchen. he could hear the sink running. “i didn’t want you to spend your time looking after me, you have your own life to live. you shouldn’t have to babysit me.”

you came back with a wet towel, using it to clean up the dirt and blood on his arms, making sure to be gentle.

“babysit you? that’s not what it’s called, leon. i’m taking care of you, is all. i know you’d do the same and be even more stubborn about it.”

his eyes were trained on you, appreciating the concentration you held while cleaning him up. like a feather, your nimble fingers only left fleeting sensations against his skin. so delicately and tenderly, you treated him.

“yeah, i probably would. thank you.”

“don’t mention it.”

you spent the next twenty minutes disinfecting all his open injuries and putting gauzes over them, making some conversation but keeping it light since you needed to focus. there was more of a sparkle in his eyes than before, you had patched him up both physically and emotionally.

“how’re you feeling?”

“better. can’t say i’ll be able to walk properly tomorrow, though.”

“you need lots of rest to recover. you should sleep.”

and he was fucking tired, having stayed up all day. his body had been on fight-or-flight mode so many times that it had exhausted all his emergency energy. and initially he was sure his injuries wouldn’t let him rest, but you were here now, watching over him.

“yeah, i should.” he agreed with you. “will you…will you be here when i wake up?”

okay. you felt warm inside, he was opening up to you, allowing you to stay by his weakened side. “of course. and the day after tomorrow, and the day after that, and um, you get the point.”

you lifted a hand to rub at his temples, alleviating the headache he had. leon groaned contentedly, his long eyelashes fluttering as his eyes shut. he could feel some drowsiness kicking in already.

“i could get used to this.”

“mhm, just go to sleep.” you voice was getting quieter and quieter in his mind, when’s the last time he fell asleep this quickly? maybe when he was 20. last time he had a broken rib, he didn’t get a wink of sleep.

maybe life was constantly testing him, disrupting his peace at every turn, seeping into all the crooks and nannies. but he found his person, the one he wanted to spend the rest of his days with, the one who reminded him of how valuable his life and accomplishments were.

yeah, he could see his future, alright. one where he only picked up a bottle of beer during celebrations, one where he could be tangled up with you and be doted on without feeling guilt.

and it was sooner than later that those thoughts would be fulfilled.

[writtenonreceipts]

Rowaelin Month Day Five: Birthdays @rowaelinscourt

Month Masterlist // AO3 // Find Part One Here (not necessary to read)

Summary: Forced to live together during covid, Rowan and Aelin have their own series of misgivings while trying to get along.

Warnings: references to covid, but really it's fluff ~1.8k words

.*.*.*.*.

Level of Concern (tell me we're ok)

If she hadn’t expressed it enough already: Aelin hated the pandemic.  She hated isolation.  She hated separation.  She hated the unknown.  She hated all of it.

Yes, she knew it was important and key to seeing lower number spikes and she knew this was all she could do aside from getting vaccinated and it was all very important to take seriously.  Sure.  Fine.

But why did it feel so lonely?

She sat at the kitchen table staring at her breakfast of granola and milk wishing it were a triple decked pile of Nutella pancakes.  Her groceries were running low and since money was tight, she had to wait until her paycheck cleared on Friday before she could go to the store.  It was Monday.

Aelin glanced at her phone.  Again.

No messages.

It was only eight, earlier than her family knew she would ever get up.  Especially on a day like today.  Still.  She would have expected at least one text from Aedion.

A small shuffle down the hall told her that Rowan was awake.  Of course he was.  Aelin was pretty sure he woke up by five-thirty so he could still work out in the living room.  It really pissed her off that he wasn’t getting fat.  She’d gained two pounds since quarantine began.  Not that she could really tell…honestly, she knew it didn’t mean anything and who the hell cared what her body looked like.  If she didn’t have to worry about money she’d be eating her weight in cake right now.

“Are you alright?”

Aelin looked up to see Rowan standing in the kitchen entryway.  She hadn’t noticed his entrance, only thinking he was moving from bathroom to bedroom.

“So good,” she said.  She took a bite of now soggy granola and hated her entire existence.

Rowan, dressed in his usual slacks and neat button up, went to start a pot of coffee.  His pine scented soap permeated the air and Aelin tried not to sniff too loudly.  Why did he have to smell good too?

After the entire incident with the cookie dough weeks ago, Aelin had tried to put some much needed distance between the two of them.  Well, much needed for her.  He didn’t need her being awkward and fluttery around him.  Because she wasn’t.  Obviously.  He was just attractive and she was an idiot.

Rowan took a seat at the table across from her, bowl of premade overnight oats and bowl of berries set before him.  How much did he make that he could afford fresh fruit?  In this economy?  Maybe, maybe, once a month did she indulge on some nicer foods.  But after the “great egg famine” she relied a bit too heavily on cheaper items.  She should try working out.  Maybe that would help her slump.

“You’re staring at me,” Rowan said.  He was looking at his phone with some news app opened. 

“Am not.” Another soggy bite of granola.

“Sure,” he replied, drawing the word out.

Aelin rolled her eyes and stood.  She wasn’t going to finish this food, no matter how painful it was to waste it.  Besides, she had to prepare for her day.  She’d managed to snag a few jobs for the week that would hopefully keep her busy enough to ignore the fact that this birthday was going to be the worst she’d ever had.

#

The rest of the day passed by uneventfully.  Which Aelin had built herself up for, really.

Elide was a travelling nurse and with Covid, she’d been busier than ever.  Aedion was still stationed overseas doing something that was uber classified.  He could just say he was training with the SEALS and be done with it.  Lysandra had launched a new clothing store right before lockdown and was doing everything in her power to keep the little shop up and running.  Aelin spent a decent chunk of her paycheck on items from the store and most of her Insta feed was just reels Lysandra created.

She couldn’t be mad at any of them, not really.  Not even her own parents.  Her father had been leveraging to retire from his company but that hope had been shot out the window and her mother was helping to care for some relatives that were also struggling.  No one was immune to the chaos the last several months had caused.

Aelin was finally able log off her personal website having finished the long list of assignments and editing jobs.  Now she just needed to hear back from her clients and their re-edits.

Out in the kitchen Rowan was already bustling around.  She could hear pots banging and already a delightful aroma was permeating the air.  It was only five-fifteen, he must have finished up his day early, a first for him.

Scrubbing a hand down her face, Aelin grabbed one of her oversized flannels and tugged it on over her graphic tee, Read Banned Books was printed over the front.  It probably needs to be washed but she couldn’t be bothered with laundry.

As she shuffles out of her room she tried to decide what she has left to eat for dinner.  A frozen dinner or maybe ramen.  Which sounded terrible if she were being honest.

“I’ll be quick—” she began to tell Rowan as she entered the kitchen.  But she came up short when she saw the table was made up with two place settings.  And the stove was full of more than enough food for one person. 

She frowned.  Rowan was adamant over the rules of social distancing, his parents were older and at a higher risk of getting infected, so he wouldn’t have anyone over—the vaccine hadn’t rolled out for their area yet anyways.

Rowan glanced up at her, kitchen towel slung over one shoulder, his sleeves were rolled up leaving his forearms on display and bits of his tattoo peeking out from the fabric.

She was definitely staring.

“Happy birthday,” he said when she didn’t finish her thought. He gestured a hand around the messy kitchen then the table. “I was expecting you to take a little longer, so it’s not quite ready.”

Aelin blinked. “I don’t understand.”

“I know it’s your birthday Aelin,” he said, “and I’m sure it’s been hell for you today.  I wanted to do something nice for you.”

Something…nice?

“You made me dinner?” she asked, trying desperately to ignore the way her heart gave a flip in her chest.

“Yeah,” he said simply.  He glanced back at the stove. “It’s only a Tuscan chicken and bread.”

It was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her in ages.  She looked over his shoulder as the chicken in its cream and sundried tomato sauce as it bubbled happily away, a pot of pasta behind it.  There were dishes scattered in the sink (she’d never seen him make such a mess before) and Rowan did have a mildly frantic look in his eyes.  It was the most disheveled she’d ever seen him.

“Thank-you,” Aelin said.  She brushed a hand through her hair unsure why she was feeling so frazzled.  “Can I help with anything.”

Rowan shook his head. “We’re almost done anyways.  Have a seat and I’ll bring it over.”

Following his direction, Aelin settled into her chair, still trying to figure out if she’d stepped into a different reality.

“How’d you know it was my birthday?” she asked as he finished getting everything together.

“Elide texted me,” Rowan told her, “told me that she didn’t know her schedule to give you a call and your family is…busy.”

“Right,” Aelin agreed.  Elide was dating one of Rowan’s friends, Lorcan, so it wasn’t completely strange that she would at least know of him.  “Where’d you learn to cook anyways?  You’re always whipping something up.”

“My ma,” Rowan said.  He dished a plate of food and returned it back before her.  Heavenly scents wafted up to her and Aelin realized she was salivating. “She always said she wanted to make sure I could take care of myself.  And I liked it, so I kept cooking after I went to college.”

It was the most she’d ever heard from him.  And now…now she wanted to hear more from him.

Rowan dished his own plate and sat in the chair opposite her. “I hope you like it.”

“It smells amazing,” she admitted.  She got a forkful of all the bits of the meal; chicken, basil, sundried tomatoes, parmesan cheese, all drenched in sauce.  Unable to wait for it to cool down she stuffed it into her mouth.  Rowan watched her with mixed bemusement (mostly concern).

“Oh,” she moaned, ignoring the look he was giving her.  “This is the best thing ever.”

“You’re going to burn your mouth to hell,” he said, slowly readying his own bite.

“Too good,” she replied.  She was only on her second bite and planning on seconds.  If he was going to cook for her, she’d eat every last bite.

Rowan muttered something under his breath that she couldn’t make out but she didn’t care.  It had been ages since she’d had a decent homecooked meal and this was more than decent.

“Was your day alright, all things considered?” he asked, passing her the garlic bread.

Aelin finally managed to slow down and take a drink of water and some of the proffered bread.  She took a moment to consider her answer.  If she told the truth he’d probably pity her more.

“It was okay,” she said.  “Same old.  I got a few new clients so it was keeping me busy.”  She wouldn’t see payout from these jobs for at least another three weeks which was why she was banking on this Friday’s payments to come through. “What about you?  No big ‘ol problems for you?”

She was teasing him, mostly.  He’d given her enough grief about her English degree in this economy that she didn’t being a little snippy right back at him.

Rowan rolled his eyes.  He took another bite to furlong his response.  “Same as always.”

Aelin quirked her brow. “So that f-bomb this morning was…what? Catharsis?”

“Yes.”

He responded too quickly that Aelin knew she had him.

“Right,” she drawled. “It’s alright to hate your job you know, no one will judge you or your fancy degree for it.”

“Aelin.”

She shrugged, mouth quirking in a smile. “Last one, promise.”

“I don’t trust you on that,” he said.

Aelin wasn’t offended.

They finished meal companionably, which shocked Aelin more than Rowan cooking for her.  And she helped him clean the dishes, because really, she wasn’t that terrible a person.

“So, no chocolate cake?” She asked as she dried the last pan.

“I cook not bake,” he said, “you’re on your own for that, princess.”

She resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him.  As he turned to head back to his room for the night, Aelin garnered the last amount of courage she had for that day.

“Rowan,” she said, calling him back.  “Thank-you for tonight.”

He offered her one, rare smile. “You’re welcome.”

.*.*.*.

thanks for reading!! reblogs and comments appreciated. my blog @writtenonreceiptswrites is my fic only blog where i reblog all updates!

[blurredcolour]

Parting Gifts

[One-shot]

John Brady x Female!Reader

John Brady cannot stand watching your oblivious Department Head make continued advances towards you while he is stuck on the bandstand performing at a concert. He expresses this displeasure to you with actions rather than words as soon as he is free to do so.

Warnings: Era-typical Sexism/Misogyny Alcohol Consumption, Unwanted Advances, Smoking/Tobacco, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes [softdom!Brady, possessive!Brady, fingering] - 18+ ONLY.

Author's Note: Really not a whole lot of plot here folks, mostly just the need for Brady to do unspeakable things...and play his saxophone. Special shoutout to @precious-little-scoundrel for the Brady brain rot and listening to me scream about him a lot lately.

Word Count: 2337

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

Sioux City, Iowa - January, 1943

Leroy Anderson was going to get himself killed. Well, he would if it were possible for looks alone to kill a man, for the pure fury in John’s eyes as the frustratingly oblivious man approached you for the fifth time was unmistakable even though his cheeks inflated rather adorably as he continued to dutifully play his saxophone. You were honestly only in attendance to watch the performance of the 100th’s band, entertaining the local populace of Sioux City, Iowa in gratitude for tolerating their invasion earlier that month, and not interested in dancing with anyone other than their handsome saxophone-playing pilot Lieutenant John Brady.

You had been quite taken with John Brady since the moment you had laid your eyes on him late on January 2nd, lost in the streets of Sioux City with the address of a local tobacco shop clutched in his hand and a bewildered expression on his face. On your way from your job at the T.S. Martin Department Store to the apartment you shared with your close friend Fern Westcott, you had stopped to try and give him directions. When his eyebrows had crinkled helplessly in confusion, it had not taken long for you to decide to guide him there yourself, waiting patiently for him to make his purchase of rather fine pipe tobacco as he then insisted on escorting you home in turn. Never mind that he did not know the way and only ended up more lost on account of it.

What had followed had been a rather intense few weeks of courtship whenever he managed to escape the base, quickly learning his way around the city…and your skirts. The entire group was growing convinced they would be cleared for overseas duty any day now and your time with him was feeling precariously short, making the continued interruptions of your department head, whose advances you had been dodging for months now, all the more tedious.

Upon arrival at the dancehall, decked out with streamers in the blue and gold of the 8th Air Force and a huge banner that read ‘We’ll Miss You 100th’ you had selected a spot along the wall with a clear view of John. Fern had offered to check your winter coat and returned, briefly, with the tag before allowing herself to be swept off by one of the many handsome young men in attendance. She was a stunning blonde with green eyes and a bright laugh, fairly having to beat them off if she wanted a break – though it never seemed she did, happy to dance for hours. Meanwhile you could barely get through one song without being proposition by the nasal voice of Leroy, his shiny face inserting itself into your view. You did your utmost to remain polite and not turn him down too harshly.

“Oh maybe the next one.”

“Just enjoying my drink, thanks.”

“I’m still a little tired from work, Leroy, but thank you.”

“I’m sure Fern would love a dance with you, Leroy.”

“Almost ready, Leroy.”

You tried changing sides of the dancefloor, hiding behind other couples, nursing a drink. None of these tactics worked for very long. With each of his intrusions, you noted John’s lips growing tighter around the mouthpiece of his instrument, his grip turning his fingertips white, but he remained on the bandstand, dutifully playing out the set which, to your recollection, only had a few more songs. After the fifth rebuffed invitation, Fern mercifully intervened and pulled you out onto the dancefloor to join numerous other pairs of friends who were dancing with one another.

“You’re a lifesaver Fern…” You muttered gratefully and the pair of you tried not to laugh too loudly as you struggled to figure out who would lead.

“If that man wasn’t responsible for signing our timecards…”

You gave her a knowing huff, wishing more than anything you could firmly dismiss his advances, but to do so risked your position in the housewares department. “I put in for team lead with the mail order department since Artie left, we’ll see what happens.”

“Well we’d miss you dearly but for your sake I truly–”

Fern’s reply was cut off by the sharp tap on her shoulder by the fairly grinning Leroy, his gleeful expression making you shudder involuntarily. You had not even made it one song before he had found you amidst the sea of swaying humanity.

“May I cut in?”

To turn him down on the edge of the dancefloor was one thing, but people were already casting glances your way for the obstacle your trio was creating. If you were to refuse now it would truly qualify as making a scene, and that must be avoided at all costs.

“Certainly.” You summoned a polite smile and nodded reassuringly to Fern who immediately found another partner to whisk her away.

Keeping your arms stiff, you managed to maintain a generous amount of distance between your bodies, despite the insistent pressure of his hand on your lower back. The other hand that clung to yours was remarkably clammy and there was something sour on his breath. It took a great deal of strength to maintain a polite expression on your face as he clumsily led you through the last two songs of the set, his brassy blond hair plastered to his skull with an excessive amount of pomade as he leered at you triumphantly. You often wondered why a man like him, only a few years older than you and seemingly 1A, had yet to enlist or be drafted. If only.

You could not wrench yourself from Leroy’s arms fast enough as the band finished their final number with a flourish, flashing him a tight smile and wishing him a ‘goodnight’ before quickly making your way toward the front of the stage as the audience applauded the soldiers-turned-entertainers. It was not long before a uniform-clad arm was sliding around your waist.

“You did great, John” You rushed out brightly as you turned to look at him warmly, but he was already guiding you around the side of the stage, face still tight.

“Come help me with something, sweetheart.” His voice was taut, and his statement was not really a request, even though the words would normally have comprised one.

Chaos erupted in your abdomen, an erratic swooping in your stomach contrasting sharply with a newly familiar heaviness lower down, and all from just the tone of his voice. The promise it carried. You knew he was not annoyed with you, but the mood he was in was certainly one that usually held certain physical outcomes for you. Or at least it had the last time he had acted this way. Following without comment, John led you into the green room where all sorts of cases lay open, ready to store the band’s instruments once they returned.

So far it seemed he was the first to return here and the pair of you paused briefly for him to secure his saxophone before he resumed his progress toward a door at the back of the room which was revealed to be a small washroom. You were not afforded much time to take it in, however, as his mouth was promptly on yours while his free hand focused on closing and locking the door behind you once he had pulled you inside.

Gasping sharply, you gripped the lapels of his uniform jacket, tilting your head back to yield to his demanding kiss as he backed you against the edge of the counter, arm around your waist coiling tighter. Gripping your chin with his long fingers, he pulled back to look over your slightly dazed face with darkened eyes, pupils eclipsing his blue irises as he began to pluck at the front buttons of your dress. As he bared the skin of your collarbones and the tops of your breasts, his head bowed to possessively nip and hungrily suck along your flesh, leaving you to grasp at his shoulders, desperately seeking anchor whilst attempting to smother your noises of pleasure in the back of your throat.

Clenching your thighs together as your folds grew increasingly damp and desperate for attention, you bit your lip in a mixture of regret and anticipation as John’s eyes flicked up to meet yours, a teasing huff escaping from his nostrils across your damp skin as he had clearly caught the movement.

The hems of your dress and slip fluttered as his hands slid to skate up the backs of your thighs, his fingertips making you jump slightly as they met your skin, breath hitching in your throat as gooseflesh erupted in the wake of his touch. Reaching the waistband of your underwear, John peeled them from your body, sliding the fabric down your legs before gripping your hips to guide you to sit up on the countertop. Bending down to slip your underwear over one shoe and then the other, you opened your mouth to inquire what he intended to do with them only to be met with his tongue sliding along yours, erasing any and all thought from your mind.

Fingers sliding into the longer strands of his hair, the feeling of his palm cupping your weeping core had a needy whimper spilling into his mouth as you arched eagerly. Huffing in amusement for a second time, John pulled back to drink in your facial expression as he worked his fingers through your folds, collecting your growing slick on his fingertips before seeking the source of your pleasure. Circling your sensitive bud, yet maddeningly denying direct contact, you rocked your lower lip back and forth beneath your teeth in time to his movements, brows knit up plaintively, tiny whimpers slipping through despite your best efforts to keep quiet.

When, at last, he slid his finger across your clit, your hips surged toward his hand with such need that he pressed his lips to your nose fondly. “Feel good, sweetheart?”

“Uh huh!” You breathed enthusiastically, with a firm nod, earning repeated strokes exactly where you wanted them, making your toes curl in your shoes.

“Remember how good I make you feel when I’m gone.” He murmured and you panted, punctuating your eager nods with several soft keens of delight.

“I will, god, I will miss you so much.” You whispered, voice growing alarmingly loud as he began to slide his middle finger into your wet heat.

“I know, I know.” John soothed, pressing a quick kiss to your lips as he added his ring finger, beginning to work the long digits in and out of you in a way that had your eyelids fluttering shut. “Ah, eyes on me sweetheart.” He gently yet firmly gripped your jaw, angling your eyes to meet his as you quickly forced them open, and he smiled. “There’s my pretty girl.”

Abandoning his attentions on your clit, he began a demanding pace as he curled the ends of his fingers and worked them against a spongey spot deep inside you. Your jaw dropped open in a silent moan, hips fairly levitating from the counter as your fingers dug into his scalp. His thumb shifted from the side of your jaw to slide along your lower lip before coming to rest on your tongue. Reflexively, your lips wrapped around the digit, and you began to suck, shuddering at the way his nostrils flared in response, struggling mightily to keep your eyelids open and gaze meeting his.

Your eyes were growing glossy with need, his internal stimulation, while heavenly, just not quite enough to drive you over the edge to release. At last, John seemed to take pity, his thumb manipulating your clit in short, sharp circles that had your eyes rolling back into your skull no matter how hard you fought it as your orgasm pulled your entire body rigid before dropping you lax onto the countertop.

John pulled his thumb from your mouth with a faint ‘pop’ before leaning in to feather your face with tender kisses, gently pulling you up into his arms and rubbing your back as you rested against his chest. There was that alluring hardness in his trousers again, one that he had not let you act upon or explore to date, insisting that he only wanted to focus on pleasing you.

“So good for me, sweetheart. You did incredible.” He murmured once he finished licking his fingers clean.

“Mmmm…thank you, Johnny.” You murmured and turned your face to brush your lips across his jaw, resting against him until your body felt able to support itself once more, sitting up slowly.

“Really am going to miss you…” He muttered, brushing his knuckles across your cheek and you frowned, nodding in return.

“Not as much as I’m going to miss you. Oh! I got you a present it’s…in my coat.” Look down at the state of your dress and could only imagine the state of the rest of you. You really did want to give him the two tins of his favorite tobacco tied together with a ribbon though, particularly as there was an envelope slipped between them containing your photograph.

John smirked a little and stole a kiss. “I’ll fetch it for you, you wait here.”

You laughed ruefully and dug the ticket out of your dress pocket, sharing one last, lingering kiss before he stepped out into the green room. There were more voices out there, the rest of the band surely returned from the stage, and you slid onto slightly wobbly legs to lock the door behind him. Buttoning your dress back up, you turned to the mirror and gasped before frantically trying to sort out your hair and the lipstick smeared all around your lips.

Straightening your slip, you froze as you realized you had no idea where your underwear was. A glance around the miniscule space with just a toilet and the vanity revealed they were nowhere to be found. Perhaps John did not need another gift from you. It seemed he had already taken one.

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

Nerdy Post-Script: While everyone thought the 100th would be cleared for overseas duty at the end of their training in Sioux City they were still considered unfit. The group was split up over multiple bases across the US for further training before their disastrous training flight to California in April 1943. It wasn't until an additional twenty days of intense remedial training in May 1943 that they were finally declared fit for overseas duty.

Read the sequel - Undone Before You

Masters of the Air Masterlist

[ajosoph]

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[creativeashproductions]

A Finch’s Journey // Bradley Rooster Bradshaw

Summary: A gift from the kindest and warmest woman in a dark period of your life begins a decades-long journey to finding peace and love. 

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x female reader (nicknamed Finch)

Warnings: Inaccurate naval knowledge, swearing, hospitals, treatments, sickness (cancer), angst, character death and FLUFF

Words: 3.2k

A/N: First finished fic in like a year. Thanks Julie.

Masterlist

Your big eyes peered up momentarily at the woman resting in the chair beside you, one hand resting on the armrest and the other dutifully colouring a picture. Your hand meticulously fills in the lines of the dress with indigo colouring. The other hand, in a similar position as the woman who’d taken you under her wing.

“Ma’am?” You shyly spoke, avoiding the curious, gentle blue of the woman who reminded you of days on the beach in the warm sun.

“Sweet pea, you know you don’t have to call me that.” The blonde woman’s smile was gentle and reassuring. 

“Are…are you scared?” You whispered in the already quiet room. You froze as her soft hand lightly took the indigo crayon your small hand had clenched hard enough that it bent.

“Not for me.” She replied, carefully twisting to face you but keeping her arm immobile, “I’ve lived a good life. I loved and was loved deeply. I travelled to places I couldn’t have imagined as a kid. I fell in love and was blessed to raise a son from that love. I’m scared for how my son will be after.”

“’Cause your husband is waiting for you in the clouds, and your son will be alone?” You innocently asked, kicking your feet in the chair. 

She smiled, “because I asked a friend to do something that will hurt him. I’m scared he’ll let the grief and bitterness overtake his life. He’s always been a happy child. You remind me of him.”

You beamed, revealing the tooth you’d lost a few days ago, “Maybe he needs a hug. Hugs always fix things.”

You nervously shifted on your beat-up shoes, looking up at the small cottage on a quiet street. The cottage holding the reason you had travelled to the West Coast from the opposite side. You recognized it from the polaroids the former owner had used to distract you from treatments.

“Can I help you?” A lady asked from the house next door. Her spirally dark hair was streaked with silver.

“Does Bradley Bradshaw live here?” You inquired, turning to face the curious neighbour halted in sweeping her porch.

“He does. He’s away for work. I can take your number and name for him if you’d like.” The lady answered leaning on the broom to focus solely on you. Her brown eyes are unrelenting in the stare.

“That’s okay. I’ll drop by in a few days.” You cast one more look at the house before turning on your heel. 

What’s another couple of days after decades of being two ships passing each other. Your flexible job allowed for extended days since you were a travelling nurse filling in at clinics needing help. 

“Well, I’ll let him know to expect someone. What’s your name?”

“Doesn’t matter.” You responded, turning to walk down the street toward the little bungalow you had rented for a few weeks. 

Your eyes scanned the gorgeous, well-kept houses on the trek back to the main street. It was stunning for a portion of a coastal city, even with the soundtrack of jets flying above the area. But, despite the reason behind stepping foot in the town, you had taken a position at a nearby clinic as a locum nurse.

For the next two or so weeks, you’d been spending your time waiting for Bradley’s return from work. Then you'd move on when you met the man and finished the contract. Maybe plan for the following position to be overseas. You’d love to see Ireland or go somewhere in Spain.

You spent the first two days in town frolicking in the water, building sandcastles with a cute little girl on the beach, and touring. On the third and fourth day, you decided to ask one of the locals for destinations and found yourself driving up the coast. Finally, on the fifth day, you dug out your scrubs and sneakers and made your way to the clinic.

“Morning, Tracy.” You smiled, putting a teal file folder by her arm at the front desk. The redhead beamed from her place in front of the computer.

“Morning, Finch,” Tracy responded, pushing a cup of coffee from the good cafe down the street. Tracy always scored discounts with the cute barista with a crush on her.

“How was the ER last night?” You questioned, flipping through one of the files of patients waiting to be seen. 

The urgent care clinic was a branch of the Naval Base Hospital as a resort for the family of the naval personnel. Typically you saw more sniffles and minor sicknesses in the children compared to the more concerning ones. Well, there was when a retired officer walked in with her finger hanging off by a thread with the question of, ‘hi, do you guys do stitches?’. 

All staff had to pull a shift over at the main hospital while under contract. Yours scheduled for Friday.

“Dead. Overheard a lot of the people stationed were out on missions.” Tracy kept her voice down while answering since she shouldn’t know, but a loose-lipped Lieutenant had been trying to woo her.

“Which means my Friday may be bad.” You hummed, glancing down at the old watch on your wrist. You grabbed one of the files and stepped out from behind the desk.

“Never know.” Tracy responded, turning her back to answer the phone, “Miramar Base Urgent Care.”

You quickly read the name, “Olive Bassett? If you could follow me.”

A young man grasped a small child's hand in a rush to follow you to the hallway. The little girl, five years old as her file read, had gorgeous honey-gold eyes framed by thick dark eyelashes. Golden-hued skin speckled with freckles across the bridge of her nose.

“Jackson Bassett. I’m Olive’s father.” 

Your eyes lifted from the file to meet the same honey-gold coloured eyes, “Mr. Bassett, I’m Nurse Y/N. I’m gonna grab a little information for the doctor.”

“Of course.” Jackson nodded, crouching to pull Olive into his arms before depositing her onto the exam table, “She said her throat was sore two days ago. This morning she spiked a fever, and I brought it down with medicine. She’s having trouble swallowing and can only take a few sips of water.”

Words scrawled over the file as he listed the symptoms and Olive nodded or shook her head at times. Jackson’s wife had been recalled to TOPGUN for a mission nine months back. After receiving word of the transfer, the Bassetts moved to the base a couple months ago. 

“Her fever is higher than I’d like. The doctor will go over my notes and then do a full exam.” Your eyes met the tear-filled ones of little Olive, “Wanna know a secret, Miss Bassett?”

Olive’s head hesitantly nodded.

“Dr. O’Collins has a secret stash of lollies for anyone that knows the secret….” You trailed off, watching a spark flare in the little girl’s eyes again, “Tell him you saw the fairies making fairy dust.”

Olive lit up in excitement.

“She should be fine. Pick up some popsicles for the sore throat, but the Doc will answer any more questions.” You told Jackson, sliding on the stool to push away to the desk in the corner. Your hand found the stickers you had hidden in every room in the building.

You were quick to roll back to Oliver to hand a stick of her choice before waving to the father and daughter.

At one point in your life, you had done your absolute best to avoid all medical facilities or anything that reminded you of when you were sick. You’d spent a lot of your childhood in sterile rooms and understood that your mother’s job in the Navy helped pay for the treatments and medicines. 

You’d relapsed around the same time the lady who kept you company had worsened. You and she never shared the type of cancer you had been diagnosed with. She’d been the adult during a time when your mother had been deployed with the Navy. You owed a lot to her for doing her best to comfort and distract you, all the while suffering herself.

At ten years old, you found yourself in the same room receiving treatment after relapsing a year after entering remission. Not much had changed in the decor or the fact that the woman who had coloured pictures with you sat there too.

What had changed was in the time you’d been diagnosed, battled, found victory, and got sick again you weren’t the same child. You weren’t as innocent. You weren’t as happy. You understood more than what a child should.

“Finch, how’s school going?” She spoke, bringing your attention from the ceiling. You barely rolled your head to face her.

Her cheeks were gaunt, her skin pale, and a scarf kept her head warm in the cold temperature of the room. She knew, hell, you knew that her prognosis was poor. And you both avoided speaking about it. Yet, she hadn’t lost the warmth or happiness in the time you’d known her.

“Doctors won’t let me go to school. I get my assignments mailed on a specialized outline.” Your lips turned down, “I dunno why I have to do math when I’m gonna die.”

Your friend’s eyes saddened, “No, you won’t. You’re so strong Little Goldfinch.”

Goldfinch. A nickname she coined for you when she saw how social you were during your first treatment with the nurses. She could see you becoming a teacher with how well you interacted and treated people kindly.

“Then why are you gonna die?” You demanded, shifting to stare her down, “You’re the strongest person I know!”

Her eyes crinkled in the corners, “Sometimes strengths are different. But, Finch, I’ve made peace with what will happen.”

Her eyes shifted to where the chemo was infusing into your arm through the IV and then to her bare one. Your heart broke because you knew that her treatment no longer worked, and she was spending her time left to be with you.

“But-“

Her hand reached out, “I knew immediately you were gonna be so important to me. I need you to hold on to this for me.”

Her hands reached behind her to the clasp on the necklace that never left her neck. Her husband had given it to her when their son was born. Their son was given a similar pendant with a sun instead while her husband found a ring with stars he slung on the chain of his dog tags.

“You never-“

“I’m sure one day you’ll know what to do with it.” 

Her hands carefully avoided wires in her mission to clasp the necklace around your neck instead. Your smaller hand reaching up to caress the moonstone with the gold diamond-encrusted crescent moon. It was beautiful.

Carole Bradshaw died a month later. A year later, you’d been declared in remission and sitting in a classroom. The necklace still proudly resting on your chest.

Twenty years later, you had dreamt of the ocean, brown eyes and the same necklace Carole had gifted you. You immediately cut your trip to Australia off and bought the first ticket to Virginia. You knew that this was what Carole meant when she gave the necklace to you.

So you’d begun a months-long search to track down Carole’s son Bradley. It had taken visiting the hospital where you and Carole got treatment. And then pleading with your mother to call on an old friend from the Academy. With a destination in hand, you had found a locum nurse position in San Diego.

Now you were standing on the porch of the home of who you really hoped was Carole’s son. But, unlike a week ago, the driveway wasn’t empty. Instead, a light blue Bronco was parked beside the freshly mowed grass.

Your fist raised to knock once, twice and a third time on the front door. Finally, the sound of footsteps sounded inside. The door opened, and your breath was taken away.

“Can I help you?” The person asked, peering at you with tired eyes.

“Are you Bradley Bradshaw?” You asked pushing your hands in the back pockets of your cotton shorts. A thin cardigan over a t-shirt to combat the cool breeze.

 “I am,” Bradley confirmed, leaning on the doorjamb of his home. His brown eyes scanned you from the brown sandals to your e/c eyes. He wondered if you would be interested in grabbing a drink or walking on the beach.

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” You offered, reaching out to shake his hand in greeting, “I have something that belongs to you. Or well to your mother.”

Rooster stood straight up upon hearing that. His light-hearted thoughts and attraction faded when you mentioned his mother. A stranger.

“H-how would you know my mother? She died when I was nineteen.” Rooster breathed, dropping his crossed arms.

“I know.” You softly breathed, stepping through the open door when he stepped to the side.

The foyer opened in the living room with soft-coloured walls and a frame holding a folded flag on the mantle. White accents and pictures of family littered the walls. You could see the pencil lines of a child being measured on the kitchen door frame.

“How?” Rooster demanded, furrowing his brows.

“Because she was my friend.” You turned to face the confused aviator, “On my eighth birthday my life changed forever. I had been sick for a while. Lethargic, I would become breathless and other stuff. The doctor called during my birthday party. Test results came back, and by the next day, I was sitting in a paediatric oncologist's office.”

Rooster’s breath called in his throat, “Wait are you, Finch?”

Your eyebrows raised, “Carole coined that. I spent my time in the hospital fluttering around to rooms to make friends. It started as Goldfinch and shortened.”

“She spoke about you. Mom was lonely for a lot of my childhood. Then, when she got sick, she lost her spark.” Rooster recalled the scary time learning his mom was really sick, “She got it back when she met a friend. She called you her little Goldfinch.”

“She did everything she could to keep me company. I didn’t have any family other than my parents, who were both on active duty. Deployed a lot. So Carole stepped in as a trusted adult when they weren’t there.” Your smile was wistful, remembering the warm smile and laugh that embodied glee, “Even when she stopped treatment, she would sit with me during mine. She talked about her pride and joy and the adventures she had.”

“She could be anyone’s friend.” Rooster grinned, leaning back on the back of the couch. His ankles crossed, looking at you.

“She could. In the end, she gave me this.” Your deft fingers tugged the moonstone and diamond pendant from under your shirt.

Rooster stood straight up, staring at the necklace lying on your fingertips. For as long as he could remember, Carole Bradshaw never took two pieces of jewellery off. Her wedding ring and the necklace you were wearing.

He didn’t notice he had stepped closer until his calloused fingers gently touched the moonstone.

 “I-I thought this was lost.” He gasped carefully, eyeing the diamonds in the crescent moon. It was as perfect as the last time he saw it was when his mom was alive, “She would brush it off.”

Your lips quirked, “She was pretty mysterious about why she gave it to me. Said ‘I’m sure one day you’ll know what to do with it’ and was tight-lipped about why.”

Rooster’s brown eyes crinkled with mirth, “She was a sucker for movies and books like that.”

Your eyes moved from the pendant to meet the man’s brown pair. It was silent for a moment.

“She loved you. So very much, Bradley. She lit up when she talked about you. She was only scared about how you’d be after she passed. She was worried the grief and bitterness would swallow you.”

He was confused, “What?”

“Carole didn’t tell me much since I was a child, but she mentioned asking a friend to do something that would hurt you. She regretted it, but it was too late to do anything. She only hoped you could forgive her.”

His eyebrows raised as the puzzle pieces clicked into place. It hadn’t been Maverick’s idea to pull his papers. His mom had. 

“Thank you.” Why Rooster was thanking you, he didn’t know. Maybe for the peace, he felt.

“This belongs with you.” You whispered, raising your hands to unclasp the necklace to drop it into his hand, “I think she always meant for me to give it to you.”

In the time since you’d left California, you’d changed your hair, Rooster discovered the moment he’d seen you. It looked good. His hand held his bag tightly as he walked closer to your form.

“Finch!” Rooster called, bringing your attention to the person in front of you.

His brown eyes drank in the lavender-coloured scrub pants paired with the scrub top of cartoon birds. Next, his eyes found the moonstone necklace that had brought you together resting on your chest as it had since he’d returned it eight months ago. Then, his brown eyes finally flicked down to the newest addition he’d given you.

“Roo!” You beamed, running full speed into his arms. 

Rooster shifted to press a lingering kiss to your neck before leaning back to drink you in. His one hand caresses your soft cheek.

“I thought you were flying in on Monday?” You asked, leaning back to stare at him with glittering eyes. The man in question beamed back.

“I scored a few extra days off. Mav’s extra wedding gift.”

His eyes shifted to the band he’d slipped onto your finger a few months back. It matched the one on his hand. 

“Perfect! Roisin gave me a list of places we should check out. She’s got the connections to places only the locals know about!” Your hand grasped his as he let you tug him down from the clinic to the little apartment you had rented for a short time.

Rooster had gotten papers of a deployment a month before your postponed honeymoon would begin. He’d persuaded you to find a locum position for the month-long deployment, and he’d fly to Ireland to meet you.

“Ireland, and then we’re going to Spain?” 

“I have to show you the places I saw. You’ll love it. And then we’ll return to San Diego.” Your words were coy at the end. His eyes moved away from the people moving down the sidewalk to you.

“We’ll? I thought you were heading down to Scotland before coming home?” Rooster asked, pulling you to a stop.

You bit your lip, keeping quiet.

“Finch?” Rooster slowly spoke, reaching to grab your other hand in his clasp.

“I applied for a position at the clinic I was a locum at when I was searching for you. I just need to sign the contracts, and I’ll have a permanent position.”

Rooster flew his head back gleefully in such a way that reminded you so much of the woman who’d held your hand in a sterile room decades ago.

Carole Bradshaw knew you were gonna be important to her. She just didn’t know you’d be more important to Bradley too.

[apeekintothepantry]

Meet Violet Fielding, my original historical character from 1918 Boston!

I've been doing some workshopping with my custom historical characters because I've been a little bored with AG's historical offerings of late, and because it's a fun excuse to dig into moments in time that interest me personally, but AG probably wouldn't produce a similar character themselves. (I say that, but my 1940's Hawaii character predates Nanea, so who knows! Maybe I'm manifesting some future stuff I can borrow for my gals.)

Violet is the youngest of three siblings. Her older sister Alice is in her early 20's and either a nurse or a Hello Girl, leaning towards nursing because I'm not sure I want her to go overseas and she could work at a hospital in Boston during the war. Her older brother James is 19 and enlists in the Marines once the US enters World War I. I think by Violet Saves the Day, he's returned home dealing with quite a bit of "shellshock" and that becomes a somewhat major theme.

Her parents are pretty wealthy, and the family lives in a brownstone on Beacon Hill in Boston. Her dad is a doctor and mom is a suffragist who also gets involved in causes supporting the war effort. Both parents are very supportive of their kids following their passions and getting themselves out there in this still relatively new century, which is why Alice has been allowed to go to school instead of immediately marrying some wealthy guy.

Vi herself is a precocious and creative kid. I think she likes to draw and paint and generally be crafty and creative, which comes in handy when brainstorming ways she can support her brother overseas and the war effort more broadly. While she's not afraid to get her hands dirty, she does like typically girly things like having teatime and looking at catalogs filled with new dresses. Her book series would theoretically cover 1917 through 1919 or so, and touch on the war, Women's Suffrage, the Spanish Flu, shellshock, and possibly the Boston Molasses Disaster.

Currently I'm trying to come up with a best friend character for her, as she really needs a Nellie or Ruthie in her life with the age difference and both siblings being off doing exciting and scary things without her. There are a lot of different directions I could go in with said friend - fellow wealthy-ish kid feels boring, Boston had a lot of new immigrant communities in the 1910's, some of whom did live in a specific part of Beacon Hill, Boston historically struggles with insidious covert racism but was still a city with a number of prominent Black and Jewish communities - and nothing's quite clicked as perfect just yet.

Violet is a Marie-Grace doll with a Nanea wig. Someone was selling her on a Facebook group a few years ago and I immediately felt like she was a Violet and needed to join my crew. Her last name was inspired by Lady Dorothie Fielding, a British woman who drove an ambulance during WWI and received several awards for bravery and service. Fielding's letters home were published after her death and are a really fascinating look at what it was like on the front lines doing this incredibly dangerous and important work. I used it as a major primary source for an educational interactive I helped develop in one of my previous jobs.

[kydrogendragon]

Sad Dads, please, for the wip game

Sad Dad!! I really liked this au and had this typed out about it, but never got to making into a true fic form, but I want to one of these days!!

Okay, so this was a Human!Au I had in mind. We've got freshly divorced Dream who's still getting used to not having Orpheus in his life on the daily and dealing with arranging schedules between him and Calliope and overall, having a not so great time.

Then, we've got Widowed Hob with young Robyn who loves the beach more than anything in the world. Except, apparently, the chance to go to Disney World with his cousins.

Hob still has work to do when they're planning to leave, so he leaves Robyn to have fun with his family and insists that he calls every day since it'll be the first overseas trip he's taken without Hob. (Yes, he's still with family, so Hob knows he'll be fine, but he worries!)

Hob, meanwhile, decides to treat himself with a trip of his own. So he rents out a spot along the coast and plans to make some progress on his research publication with the sound of the waves.

When he arrives to the little cottage far removed from society, however, he finds a car already parked there. Said car belongs to none other than Dream.

It's late in the evening and the weather's coming down hard. Driving back out with such little light on the precarious cliff roads it took to get here would be ill-advised, so Dream, not wanting this man to die on the roads just because he wanted privacy, tells him to stay the night and they'll resolve this all in the morning.

Well, the downside to this house is, of course, there's only one bedroom. Neither looked for a place with more than one bed when it was just supposed to be them, after all. The couch is... well, it's not very large to say the least and the springs inside it are guaranteed back killers, no matter your age.

The two stay up for a while though. There's a fire going which is nice. Dream has already gone through half a bottle of wine by himself, Hob helps him finish it. Dream, deep into his cup, spills his life story onto the strange man who will be gone come morning.

Hob, in return, shares his own. He shares the fears he has of raising Robyn without El, of messing it all up. He shares the fear he has over this trip which should be a fun thing for his boy, but he's so worried that something will take him from Hob, just like it took away El and he'll be too far away to do anything to help it.

They talk and cry and drink and then talk some more.

It's late, the rain has just started to calm down, the fire is at a gentle crackle - mostly embers at this point - when Dream leans forward and presses his lips to Hob's. Hob is not a strong man. Especially when being kissed by such a gorgeous creature. The wine doesn't help. And it's been so long since he's been kissed or touched or anything. So he gives in.

And the two stumble to the shared bedroom and fumble their way through drunken hand-jobs and if they each have another cry about it about intimacy after going so long without it, that's between them.

In the morning, Hob's awake before Dream and works on making breakfast with the meager rations the cottage has on hand. Mainly beans and toast with eggs. Better than nothing. And good for the headache he's nursing.

When Dream comes out, he's prepared to make apologies but Hob cuts him off, saying he thinks they both needed that. A good cry, a good chuck of alcohol, and a reminder that they're not unlovable.

"Perhaps," Dream replies, thanking him for the plate of food. And so they talk more about their lives, about the mundanity of it now that they know the tragedy of each other. And if after breakfast, they put off calling the rental company a bit longer, neither of them mention it. And, if by lunch (once the headaches have started to fade and they've each showered and dressed), they decide to go explore the beach some, together, neither disagrees.

And if, perhaps, after their five days are over, and Hob has to leave first, they exchange numbers (and maybe a chaste kiss), they'll simply smile and know that maybe it's not the end of everything.