#women can be doctors and men can be nurses

[redrockbutch]

The medical system has a lot of problems and it sucks to navigate as a patient but it's really really really obvious that most of the people gleefully talking about how abusers "gravitate" towards nursing are talking out of their ass and have never been in a hospital cause all their anecdotes are "my HS bully is a nurse now I bet she bullies patients" and not "when I was hospitalized I was abused by a nurse" or even "my friend/family was abused by a nurse" like it's just one of those pithy phrases people like to parrot in place of actual critique or political awareness

And constantly comparing them to cops kinda shows these people don't have much experience with cops, either, so why are they even talking?

[your-internet-bf]

It's been a while since you've seen a doctor, and you're nervous as you follow the nurse back to my office. What's there to be nervous about, this is just a little checkup, right? You notice the nurse's manicured burgundy nails as she knocks sharply on the door. She turns to you, smiling prettily, and says, "the doctor will see you now."

You push open the door and enter quite a large room. The nurse follows, closing the door behind you. In the center is the examination table, off to the right is a small crowd of young adults, appearing to be made up of men and women, and on the left is me, seated at my desk. "Welcome," I say, standing and extending one hand. My voice is deep, warm, and smooth, and you fumble for a moment, blushing a little, before you remember to shake my hand. Your hand is dwarfed in mine, my strong fingers encircling you, and a thought flashes unbidden through your mind - what would those fingers feel like inside you? - but, come on now, that's really not appropriate...

"I have a few students with me, as you can see. Is that alright?"

"Well, yes, of course!" Why shouldn't it be?

"Excellent. Now, I'm pioneering this new full-body examination method - it's really quite extraordinary, the maladies I can detect this way - but be warned, it is, shall we say, unorthodox. Is that alright?"

Just for a moment, you see something in my eyes, something behind the genial smile and gentle, reassuring tone. Just for a moment, you feel like some specimen, some piece of meat, pinned down under the lights with nowhere to go... but just for a moment. Surely, nothing bad can happen, and I'm a doctor, aren't I? You can trust me. So you swallow your fear, and you acquiesce.

"Excellent! Let's have a seat on the table, if you don't mind, and we'll make a start. Nurse V, if you would..."

As you sit on the table, the clinical, sterile seating a little cold against your skin, the pretty nurse steps behind the table, facing you, waiting for something. From your right, I approach, and you feel again just how much larger than you I am as my broad shoulders block out one of the ceiling lights. With all these people watching you, it takes all you have not to squeeze your legs together, just a little bit.

We begin with a quick examination of your face - "you have beautiful eyes, you know," I purr into one ear. I place one hand on the side of your neck and tilt your head; god, you've been reading too much, haven't you, the way you want these strong, expert fingers to close around your throat.

"Now, open your mouth for me, please." You oblige, and I cup your chin and slide my thumb into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. Your eyebrows jump in surprise, and you look at me questioningly.

I smile again, still inside you. "Unorthodox, remember? Now, close your mouth and try to swallow." From behind, the nurse strokes your cheek with the back of one hand, and you feel a sudden ache between your legs. You close your lips around my thumb and swallow. It tastes... clean, mostly, as one might expect from a doctor, but you can taste the sweat underneath.

"Very good, one more time for me."

You swallow again, and you feel me slide my thumb over the surface of your tongue, pressing down, swirling in circles.

"And, one more time... yes, that's it, good job, very good job."

The praise for this degrading task is more than you can bear, and you squeeze your thighs together. Fuck, it's humiliating, everyone just saw you do that... All these eyes on you, the beautiful nurse behind you, this big, strong doctor with these big, strong hands and that big fucking bulge... but no, this is just a checkup, nothing is going to happen, right?

While you were thinking, I dried my hand off and had begun speaking.

"I'm - I'm sorry?"

"No worries. I was saying, can you remove your top, please? We need to examine your heart and your breathing."

You stare at me. "Remove my - "

"Yes, remove your top. The fewer barriers between me and you, the less interference with my examination." My face is quite serious, almost bored - this really must be routine. You look back at the nurse, and she smiles slightly and nods. So you undress, your nipples betraying you, standing at attention. You blush as the crowd of students looks at you intently. The nurse lays one warm hand on your shoulder, slender fingers gripping you reassuringly, and your eyes are drawn once more to those burgundy nails.

I step in close, and you feel my breath warm on your chest. "Now, observe the stiffness in the patient's nipples - this is to be expected, given the cool air, and it's certainly nothing to be ashamed of," I say, smiling. I press my stethoscope up over your heart, the metal cold on your skin, and your mind is betrayed by the pounding of your heart. My eyes flick up to meet yours, and I grin, predatorily, and once again you feel like a piece of meat beneath the lights.

I examine your breasts, starting with your left. Enclosed in my big, strong hands, I squeeze and push, prod and pull, ostensibly feeling for any abnormalities, but the way my fingers brush over your nipples, the intensity with which I sink them into your soft breasts, heaving now as your breath comes faster... My practiced tongue rasps over one nipple and a tiny moan escapes your lips as you try desperately to hide how much you're enjoying this; try desperately, and fail.

Abruptly, I pull back. "Excellent! All seems well here." I rest one hand on your other shoulder and turn to the students. "Note the pleasure response during this section of the examination, and I hope you were paying attention to the oral technique."

I turn back to you, my eyes dancing as they meet yours. "Fully undress, if you would. The inspection must continue."

Your hands tremble as you slide your clothes down off your waist, and the nurse aids you, her lovely hands stroking along your thighs and calves as she does.

"And spread for us, please."

Obediently, your thighs open, exposing your cunt, your needy, aching wetness, to all.

"Note the beauty of the patient's sex, here. The shape of the folds," I murmur, tracing one finger along your sensitive lips, "the balanced ratio of the clitoris to the vulva overall," sliding two fingers on either side of your clit, squeezing gently between them, "the appropriate pleasure response in - "

You lose what I say as I plunge two fingers inside you, powerful and dextrous, knuckles slipping past your tightness easily. It feels so fucking good to finally have something inside you, after all this aching and teasing, and god, so many people are watching, they're all watching your pussy spread and toyed with by this big, strong, handsome older man, and now the nurse's slender fingers are across your throat and her lips are on your forehead, and she tells you that you're doing so well for me, you've been so good...

My fingers press up inside you, finding your g spot, and with my thumb rubbing on your clit, I start melting you. Waves of pleasure course through your body, you gasp, moan, whimper, and with your eyes closed you can't tell whose lips are so soft on yours, but it feels so fucking good, and all those people are watching and it makes you want it more, your back arching, chest heaving, melting under the attention, and finally, mercifully, you cum, contracting around my fingers, squeezing your thighs together, trembling, shaking, gasping for air. You hear me say something, but you're so overwhelmed with pleasure that all you can make out from my speech is "very, very good".

The hand withdraws from your throat, and I gently, gently, extricate my fingers, and settle my hand atop one thigh, fingers slick with your desire.

The nurse whispers affirmation in your ear as I address the class. "Stimulation in this manner, of the two most sensitive sex stimuli, brings the most consistent and powerful orgasms to those possessing these organs." I stroke the inside of your thigh reassuringly, before turning to you.

"The final part of this examination is seeing how well you handle penetration. I'm going to need your unequivocal verbal consent before proceeding."

The nurse leans in and whispers into your ear, "might I suggest 'please, sir, will you fuck me?'" You'd blush harder if you could.

You swallow, nervously, and there's a twisting in your gut as you say it. "Please," you begin, voice cracking. "Please, sir, will you fuck me?"

"Yes, that is sufficient. I must say, though," I warn, unzipping my jeans, "that I am quite large." I slap my cock down on your tummy, and the sheer weight of it shocks you. You've seen size like this in porn, sure, but fuck, you've never touched something like this. When you tear your gaze away from my cock, I'm grinning down at you, predatory again. "You can back out at any time, you know." My voice is low, teasing, challenging. "Should we continue?"

You nod shakily, and spread your legs a little wider.

One hand on your raised knee, one hand guiding my cock, I push against you. For a moment you realize the exam had to be done in this order; if you weren't so fucking wet, there's no chance you'd be able to take me. But all thoughts are blasted out of your mind as I push harder and slide in.

It's so fucking thick that you can't help but groan. You've never felt so full, so strained inside, being pushed in every direction; you're not built for this, maybe there's just too much, your body is rejecting me - and then I push again, another few inches, and you slam your head back against the padded table, a long, drawn-out "fuuuuuck" wrenched from your lips. You feel my strong hands brace at your hips, and with a final thrust, slamming your cervix up into your guts, moving your entire body, the ridges of my cock sliding deeper and deeper, sliding painfully, pleasurably past your walls, I'm inside you.

The nurse rests her hands on you again, and purrs in your ear, "you're doing so well for him, I know it's hard, it's so hard, but you're doing such a good job, pretty girl..."

Glacially, I pull out, allowing you a moment to rest, before thrusting in again, hands still at your waist. You sob once, loudly, and then you sink into it as I pick up a rhythm, deep, deep strokes inside you. You hear me grunting, whispering something, and I grow more frantic, impaling you a little harder, and through the wall of pleasure you hear me rumble, "nurse V, begin the overstimulation procedure."

"Certainly, doctor." She leans over you, lips fiercely meeting yours, and one of those slender hands reaches down to abuse your clit. An image of those burgundy nails on your cunt flashes through your mind as I continue pounding you, forcing you to spread for me, adjust to me, even as the nurse plays your clit like an instrument, and fuck, she's a virtuoso.

You sing a song of moans and voiceless curses under our combined mastery, knowing your audience is entranced, filled with a blazing, lusty pride. The deep bass of my voice, resonant in your skull, is saying something, but you cannot hear me; you're moaning, groaning, pleading, "yes, yes, oh my god yes" over and over...

The song swells to a crescendo and with two sudden strikes, two powerful thrusts into you, it ends with a thick, hot, sticky white wave of my approval inside you. You feel it pulse deep, deep inside, filling you, load after load delivered straight past your bruised, abused cervix.

You come back to reality with my cum spilling from between your legs, trailing thickly down onto the exam table. I zip up my jeans while the nurse helps dry you off, from all the sweat and saliva. She dabs caringly at your mouth, and you notice that the cloth is dyed the same shade as her lipstick.

"Now," I address the class, "I hope you were paying attention." I rest one hand on your aching, trembling thigh. How many times did you cum with me inside you? How long were all these people watching you writhe beneath me, begging, losing yourself in the pleasure? You have no fucking clue. "This patient has bravely volunteered for each of you to examine her, here and now, while she's available to us."

Your jaw drops. When did you agree to that? You would never - but you were begging, "yes, yes, yes" earlier, weren't you, while I was talking. You agreed. Everyone heard you say it.

"One at a time, please. And," I say to you, grinning wolfishly, "don't worry. I'll be watching the entire time."

[liberalsarecool]

My mother planned her life, got a few degrees, then a doctorate. She taught at a university and published a journal on chaos theory in nursing.

Women who can make decisions for their reproduction have power.

Conservative men want to remove that power.

[transandrobroism]

“Acktually, trans men oppress cis women on account of them being men” okay. Who was the last trans man doctor you had. The last trans man nurse, PA, NP? The last trans man professor. Teacher. Senator. Governor. Idk about you but I know a LOT more cis women cops than trans man cops. The last trans man lawyer. Judge. Scientist. Engineer. Author. Artist. Millionaire. Billionaire.

The two trans men in ‘positions of power’ over others I’ve ever seen have been bottom tier management positions, AKA the “first line of defense” and the person who’s supposed to absorb all the shitty behavior of everyone while having no real power themselves without consulting someone higher up on the management ladder. So much institutional power we just OOZE privilege.

yeah i think the key thing here is that trans people in general are a marginalised minority group. none of us have unfettered access to institutional power. all of us are blocked from full access to societal power structures because we are trans. this is why it's important to talk about intra-community issues in terms of lateral aggression rather than systems of oppression.

i think it's important to acknowledge that on an interpersonal level, all of us can sometimes find ourselves in positions where we have some power over other people. and when that happens we need to be mindful of how we use that power, and not let prejudice or bias lead us to abusing that power to harm people. but that goes for everyone regardless of gender (or any other aspect of their identity). having the power at a micro-level to make someone's life difficult is very different to having access to institutional power structures.

but i do think this "trans men are oppressing cis women because they're men" idea trades on a very radfem worldview that sees misogynistic oppression as an inevitable consequence of men existing. therefore it's never necessary to substantiate that claim with evidence - the statement is considered self-evidently true. you are a man, therefore you oppress women. it's an attitude that views the oppression of women as a core part of masculinity. therefore there's no need to prove it with specifics. you can just shove all men into the "Oppressor Class" and call it a day. acting like trans men oppress cis women just by existing as men is transradfeminism and it's just as flawed and reductive as the terfy rad-feminism that came before it.

[aurumacadicus]

Listen, Steve is grateful he gets to work at a Stark-funded hospital. He is. Not only is the prestige of working there even for a year going to carry him through his entire career, but if he stays for five years, the Maria Stark Foundation will pay off all of his student loans. Their clientele are people typically in poverty and he loves that he can help the less fortunate. It's all he ever wanted to do after watching his single mother scrimp and save as a nurse just to make sure they had a roof over their heads. He would never do anything to jeopardize his position or the reputation of the hospital.

"That custodian is going to be the reason you're fired," Natasha declares, and both Clint and Bucky spin from their nursing charts just in time to watch Steve almost fall over as he attempts to get one more glimpse of Tony's ass as he pushes his cart, whistling, toward the elevator. "Is this your way of getting out of the gala? Getting shit-canned the day before?"

"Are you going to tattle on me to Dr. Potts?" Steve asks her bluntly.

Natasha says nothing for several minutes, mulling the idea over in her head. Finally, though, she mutters, "I guess you're better than Hammer. He actually put his hands on Tony."

Steve doesn't know how to respond, because he'd only gotten his position after Dr. Hammer had groped Tony one too many times (apparently Tony had never reported it? It had actually been one of the nurses) and got fired for it. Again, he's grateful for the position, but he knows other doctors would shank him for the opportunity. He's just looking, but maybe he shouldn't look? Tony isn't a piece of meat. He's a respected member of the hospital staff.

Tony stops and bends over to pick up a piece of garbage on the floor, and even Natasha whimpers as his pants lovingly cup each of his cheeks.

Luckily, they're saved by one of the PR interns coming out of a hospital room and chirping, "Are you going to the gala tomorrow, Mr. Tony?"

"Peter how many times do I have to tell you," Tony begins, sighing, then shakes his head. "Yes, my mother is finally forcing me to show up for the gala."

Steve does a minute fist pump, and Bucky immediately drags him into a noogie that makes him squawk about his hair in probably the most unattractive manner possible.

--

"Gala" is probably too fancy a term for it. Unlike the Foundation galas, where the Stark family squeezes donations from the other wealthy elite for all they muster, this is more of a get-together between other hospitals to compare notes. Women are in cocktail dresses and the men are a healthy mix of suits and slacks-and-polos. The only people really decked out in formal wear are those with the foundation.

Steve is trying to be very casual as he keeps an eye out for Tony. He hasn't seen him yet, but he's hoping to ask Tony for at least one dance. Dr. Potts had said Tony liked to dance when he'd been talking with her and Natasha at the start of the gala. (She'd made really deliberate eye contact with him when she'd said so, too, so Steve figures she at least approves of him??? Even if she also kind of scares him.)

"Oh my God," Bruce whispers, wine dripping down his chin. He's gone ashen.

Steve and Thor turn to see what he's looking at, and Steve immediately understands. He feels as if he's just been simultaneously punched in the gut and head.

Because Mrs. Stark has finally arrived at her gala, dressed to the nines and yet somehow making everyone feel at ease in their own clothes. She's being escorted by a handsome man in a tuxedo.

The man looks a lot like Tony from the custodial department. But Mrs. Stark keeps loudly and proudly announcing that he's her son.

"I'm so fired," Steve whispers, voice cracking, as Bucky finally steps up beside him and claps him on the shoulder.

[hadesoftheladies]

female separatism isn’t about preference or “hating men.” i wish people would understand that separatism is vital to our health as women right now. one of the biggest things patriarchy has taken from us is MOBILITY and HEALTH. can you imagine a world where you wouldn’t be harassed for wanting to be tended to by only women? where female doctors and nurses that knew and prioritized female biology tended to you? streets where you could stroll and not feel a sliver of self-consciousness. where walking didn’t have to be a performance or a race from a man whistling at you?

i used to love going down to the river running at the bottom of the hill where my grandmother’s house sat. now I start to see more and more farm boys and farm men bathing in the spots I loved to rest in. I can’t be free even out there in the country. I have to be chaperoned. go in twos and threes. I can’t WANDER. i can’t run into the wild or bathe in the river. I can’t bask shirtless in the sun.

do women know how physically constrained we are? in corsets and brad and tight dresses because we must always prioritize aesthetics over happiness. we conflate approval and relief for joy. it drives me mad when I see the freedom men have. how wide their strides. how they can break out in a wrestle. how they aren’t taught to deform their bodies. how they are encouraged to nurture their physical power.

I wanted to go to the gymn by my neighbourhood, and my dad got annoyed with me. because it wasn’t safe. the only other segregated gymn in my whole city is miles away and unaffordable.

I taste separatism every time i sleepover at one of my sisters or we go on a retreat together. we can say anything. we relax. we bond and listen to each other. in all our different personalities.

but when there’s men in the conversation, everything becomes tedious. the banter becomes low hanging fruit. the conversation becomes competitive and thoughtless. it’s all about saying the most ludicrous thing for attention. it drags into politics of the worst kind.

and it poisons relationships. my sisters get a little meaner about other women. it’s so subtle and quick you wouldn’t notice it.

I long to be able to reach for women in history and not hunt for their names. not wade through the stories of their husbands or fathers before getting to them. I long for a world where female artists didn’t have to prostitute themselves for the male gaze, didn’t have to cripple their work by being nice to men.

even now in the modern age where information is more accessible than ever, you have to cut through so much noise to get to the voices of women. you have to cut through sob stories for killers and rapists before you get to the victims. you have to wade through male greats to get to their female predecessors.

if men aren’t talking over women, women are quieting themselves or too busy clamoring for another man’s attention, because his approval is power.

I want to show up to work without being condescended by a man who feels threatened by me. I am tired of censoring myself for male comfort.

who would I be, what could I do, if my movement, my body, my self-determination was not constantly suppressed. how many thoughts have I not allowed myself to think because the cost of speaking was too inconvenient?

cutting off male friends that violated my boundaries has already improved my quality of life, what would happen if I could be free of all of them?

I’d be healthier. happier. I’d be so much happier.

[writeforfandoms]

Who Wants To Live Forever

Find my Ghost masterlist

It doesn't matter how many lives you've lived, you always find your way back to him.

The reincarnation au nobody asked for and my plot bunnies yeeted at me anyway! I have a lot of thoughts about this one that didn't make it into the fic. Like. A Lot.

Warnings: Swearing, past violence, blood, injury mention, canon typical violence, idiots in love, this is just for fun, I wrote this for me but you can read it too.

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

Word count: 2.9k

The dreams started when you were small. Your parents at first attributed them to an overactive imagination and too much television. 

But as you got older and the dreams didn't go away, you wondered. Your parents got squirrelly about them, started muttering about things like psychiatrists and not normal and worried. 

So you stopped mentioning them. Pretended you didn't dream at all most nights. 

Reality couldn't be farther from the truth. 

You dreamed. Every single night. In some you were part of a village, living a harsh life by the sea. The men would go off to hunt and raid, and the women stayed behind to mind the village and raise the children. Those dreams always left you cold. Even in those dreams, though, dream-you noticed the beauty, the way sunlight glinted off snow, the magical lights in the sky, the blue of the sky after a storm. 

Some nights you dreamed of being a nurse, tending wounded soldiers in tents and buildings. Those dreams were always full of screaming and crying and horrors. Men wheezing, coughing up blood. Limbs shattered and mangled beyond repair. A stench like you couldn't describe. But there were little moments, moments of kindness. Holding a man's hand to comfort him through his last breaths. The way the sunrise broke through some of the haze of pain surrounding those places. The way a doctor or fellow nurse would sometimes thank you, buy you a drink, share scant meals with you. 

Sometimes you were a school teacher in a rural village, gently scolding children and keeping watch as they frollicked at break times. Those dreams were full of small joys. A flower one of your students brought you, bashful smile blooming into a grin at your thanks. Sunsets from the comfort of home. Warm meals at the table, often shared. With him.

He was a constant presence. Through all of your dreams, all of those times, he was always to be found. He didn't always look the same - skin tone changed, hair color changed. But you always knew him by those brown eyes. 

Sometimes the two of you married. Sometimes he was married before you met him. Sometimes you were married first. But you always, always found each other. In every time. In every life. 

By the time you were out of school, you had notebooks dedicated to your dreams, to the times, to the man. You kept them hidden away, for your eyes only. Just as a way to help you keep everything straight. 

As more time passed, you became more and more sure that these were glimpses into the past. Your past. Past lives, you'd guess. From the way the dreams felt… it always felt like you. No matter how many times you put pen to paper, you could never accurately describe why. 

But you knew. They were all you.

And they were all him. 

Which made you wonder… when would you find him in this life? You'd found him in almost all of the others. It seemed reasonable that you'd find him again. 

(Nevermind that you had no name, no description, no way of knowing what he'd look like or where he'd be.) 

Knowing that he was out there somewhere made it easy to bury yourself in work. Oh, sure, you had friends. People who knew you. You were well-liked at work, known to get things done. 

But you didn't date. You didn't look for people who weren't him. 

Everyone else, you knew, would pale in comparison. 

All the lives accumulated in your head did make it hard to relate. It was easier, sometimes, to sort of… float through life. You knew what was expected of you. You'd known people from every walk of life, just about. You knew a lot about people, could do well in social situations without working at it. 

But it did make for a rather lonely life. 

You started dreaming of him more often. Of the times the two of you lived together. Of the long talks the two of you had. Of the walks, along the sea, along a grass-lined lane, along a lake. Of the times he was just out of reach, your eyes meeting again and again through crowds and dinners and company. 

Of the time he died in your arms, blood staining the both of you. 

You were tired when you got on the train. This was just a little holiday to a new place. 

Or. Well. You hadn't been here in this lifetime, at least. 

It was busier than you remembered the area being, more built up. Your lips twitched - that's what happened over time, after all. 

Nothing stayed the same for long. 

You didn't pay any mind to the people around you as you walked, taking your time. You didn't mind walking to your hotel from the train station. Gave you a better chance to look around and plan where you wanted to go later. 

Your eyes met brown through a coffee shop window.

You froze. You knew those eyes. You knew those eyes. 

He blinked, just once. You couldn't look away. 

The noise of the coffee shop finally registered when you stopped in front of his table, the chinking of mugs and flatware, the hiss of the machines, the babble of unimportant voices. 

“Hi.” You were a little surprised at your own voice, quiet and a little awed. 

He eyed you, black face mask obscuring most of his expression. For a moment your heart plummeted. Maybe he didn't recognize you? Maybe… he didn't remember? 

Then his lips twitched. 

“Took you long enough.” 

“Took me long enough?” You tried for outrage but probably fell short, humor and elation buoying your heart. “And what about you, hmm?” 

“Been busy.” He nodded to the seat across from him, and you could just see the corners of his eyes crinkle with his smile. 

“Oh, busy. Yes, how silly of me to not think of that.” You dropped into the seat, your bag landing at your feet a little harder than was probably advisable. 

“Holiday?” His gaze dropped briefly to the table, to where your bag was now hidden. 

“Yes.” Some of your elation faded at the dose of reality. “You?”

He paused, holding your gaze. “On leave.” 

“Ah.” You smiled a little, sliding one open hand across the table. “Going well this time, then?”

He didn't say anything for a long moment, staring down at your open hand. His fingers twitched. “Not particularly.” 

Your heart plummeted. “Oh.” 

“S'fine.” He shook his head once, short and sharp. “You want anything? Tea, coffee?” 

“Coffee is fine.” You started to stand but he waved you back into your seat. 

“Wait here.” 

You huffed out a breath and watched him go, broad shoulders easy to track up to the register. You finally had the attention to note other details about him. He was dressed casually, all in black, with his hood pulled up. You'd caught blonde hair under his hood. 

Taller than you could remember him being. Broad shoulders. 

It was just… so good to see him again. To see him now. With your own eyes, in this life. 

It would be nice to make more memories, for next time. 

The clink of a mug being set in front of you brought you out of your own head. You blinked at the mug and then at him as he sat across from you again. 

“How long are you here?” He folded his hands in front of him, gaze fixed on you. 

You shrugged. “I had only planned for a few days,” you admitted. “But I can make it longer.” 

He grunted once, thumb tapping against the side of his hand as he considered something. Then he nodded once. “Meet me here tomorrow,” he said, abruptly moving to grab a pen and a napkin. “1200.” 

You blinked once. “Tomorrow?” You couldn't quite keep the disappointment from your voice at that. 

“Got some things to take care of before then,” he said, barely glancing up at you as he finished writing on the napkin. “Got some people for you to meet, too. If you want to know me better this time ‘round.”

You swallowed against the lump in your throat. He'd married already. That was the only thing you could think of. He was already married and you were too late. “I see.”

“No. You don't.” He pushed the napkin to you, tapping it twice with one large finger. “Here. Tomorrow.”

“1200,” you repeated dutifully, mustering up a wan smile. “Yes. I remember.”

“Good.” He pushed back to his feet abruptly, and you startled a little. He was just so tall! “If you don't show, I'll assume you don't want to meet again.” The words were flat, even, but his eyes… his eyes hid pain. 

You nodded, too startled for words by all of this. In a moment he was gone, striding out of the coffee shop and away from you.

Every fiber of you longed to go after him, to beg him for answers. 

Instead, you sat and sipped your coffee with trembling hands, staring at the napkin until the blocky letters were burned into your memory. 

The walk to your hotel was a bit of a blur. You barely paid attention to the social interaction, though you must have done well enough. 

You ended up sitting on the bed, bag on the floor, staring at your hands. 

He'd been so close. So close. 

But he hadn't taken your offer. He hadn't touched you. 

You thought you might finally be going a little insane. Was this what insanity felt like? Was this some kind of fever dream? Had you finally lost all sense of reality?

But no. You had the napkin in your pocket still. You'd seen him. You hadn't learned his name this time around, hadn't learned much of anything really, except that he had people he wanted you to meet. 

People. He'd said people for you to meet. 

The words finally sank fully into your brain, and you weren't sure whether to laugh or scream. People. People to meet. As in more than one person.

As in he was not only married but had a family…

…or something else entirely. Something new. 

Even after so many lives, the world still had a way of surprising you. A lesson hard learned over time. 

You forced yourself to breathe through the weight of history on your shoulders, staring back at all the lives where things had gone wrong. 

And then you forced yourself to find some dinner, shower, and read for a while before bed. 

Not that you slept very well. Not with anticipation and dread wreaking havoc on your heart. 

You arrived at the meeting spot ten minutes early, a little cafe on a square with a fountain in the middle. You stood outside, hands in your pockets, unsure what to expect. 

“You’re early.”

You swallowed once, heart thudding hard against your ribs as you turned to look at him. “Didn’t want to be late,” you quipped, only to falter. 

He wasn’t alone today.

Three other men stood with him, all of them looking at you. You lifted your chin a little, meeting the gaze of the closest man. You had just enough time to note how blue his eyes were before the memories slammed into you. 

A quiet life working the land, out beyond the edge of the “civilized” world, a husband with a rare but kind smile, eyes so blue you could drown in them. Rare trips to the nearest town gave you glimpses of your brown-eyed man, but no more than that. Cold winters and muddy springs and indomitable shoulders to lean on through it all. 

And a slightly less quiet life of some wealth, with a husband whose work often took him from home. But you’d had friends that time, your own societal duties. Dances. Events. Hosting. That life had not been devoid of its fun and beauty. 

“Oh.” You blinked at him, eyes wide. 

His lips twitched under his facial hair (muttonchops - unusual choice for this day and age) and he held out a hand to you. “Captain John Price.”

You gave him your name and shook his hand, holding his gaze for a moment longer. If he was like the him you’d known, he was a good man. Time would tell if and how he had changed. “I married you before.”

He grinned for a moment, so close to the man you’d known that your heart ached. “Twice, but don’t hold it against me,” he joked before he stepped aside. 

The next man to step up also had blue eyes and a big smile. You knew him immediately - you’d seen him before, too. A few times in the shadow of your brown-eyed love, once or twice on his own. The last time you’d seen him, he’d been standing over the bed of one of his men, half-covered in blood and muck. 

There had been nothing you could do, then. 

Now you smiled. “Good to see you again.” 

“Ye look better this time.” He chucked you gently under the chin with two knuckles, grinning. “John MacTavish, call me Soap.” 

“Soap?” You raised one extremely unimpressed eyebrow. 

He laughed. “A story for another time,” he promised, winking at you before he stepped back. 

The last man looked at you, nerves in the pinch of his mouth and the corners of his eyes. Darker skin and a ballcap met your quick perusal. 

You only had to meet his gaze for a moment before you threw yourself at him, hugging him as hard as you could, breath stuttering in your chest. 

“Hey, hey,” he cooed, arms immediately settling around you, one hand cupping the back of your head. “It’s alright, we’re fine.”

“You left,” you grumbled, hands fisting in the back of his shirt. “You’re not allowed to do that to me again.”

“Promise,” he muttered, voice low, just between the two of you. “I won’t.”

You sniffled, just once, before you pulled back to look at him. “I missed you,” you admitted before gently whapping his arm. “And if you disappear on me again I’ll hunt you down next life.”

“Yes ma’am.” He grinned, not even a little abashed. 

“So, what ridiculous nickname have you gotten this time?” You smiled, finally taking a half-step back. 

“It’s not ridiculous,” he scoffed. “Gaz. Kyle, this time ‘round.”

“Gaz.” You tested it out slowly before shrugging. “Not the worst.”

“Oh? And what would be?” Soap snuck up next to you, looking eager for mischief. 

“Story for another time,” you shot back at him with a smile. You finally turned your gaze to him again, to your brown-eyed man. The only one who hadn’t given you his name yet.

“Simon,” he finally said, as if he’d read your mind. 

“Simon.” You smiled. “How did you…?” You made a helpless motion between the three men. 

“Price,” Simon answered with a little shrug. “Found all of us.” 

“Came across ‘em,” Price said, arms crossed over his chest. “Knew I had to keep ‘em close.” 

You nodded, a little ache in your heart. “It’s a good thing you did.” But your gaze didn’t stray from Simon, too busy basking in the sight of him, here and whole in front of you.

“He’s no’ married yet,” Soap said in a stage whisper. When you glanced at him, he was grinning. “Unattached. Available. Free to a good home.”

“MacTavish,” Simon growled, brows twitching in annoyance. 

But you? You grinned. “Well, that’s good, because it’s your turn this time,” you teased, chin tipping up and to one side. 

Simon’s gaze snapped back to you, eyes a little wide. “What?” 

“I asked you last time,” you said patiently, trying hard to not grin. “Almost kissed you in front of your fiance, too.” 

“Almost,” he agreed, eyes warm as his gaze swept the length of your body. 

“I spotted you yesterday, too,” you pointed out, completely reasonably and not at all like a little gremlin. (You liked that word a lot and had incorporated it as much as you could once you’d caught airmen using it during World War II.) 

“So, ‘s my turn?” He took one step closer to you.

“Mmhm.” You bit the inside of your lip hard to keep your grin to yourself. 

His eyes narrowed at you, which was the only warning you had before he pulled down his face mask and kissed you. Vaguely, you heard Soap cheering and Price grumbling. But everything fell to the back of your mind.

Everything that wasn’t Simon. 

A little piece of your heart clicked into place. 

When he finally pulled back, both of you were a little out of breath, holding each other tight. His lips twitched in a tiny smile and you all but beamed in response. 

And then yipped when someone yanked you away from Simon.

“Best friend dibs,” Kyle announced, already starting to walk you away. “Mine for now, I’ll give her back in a day or two.”

You cackled at the look on Simon’s face, like he was torn between murder and laughing along with the joke. 

“There’s no rush,” you couldn’t help but tease. “We’ve got this entire life, now.” 

Simon met your gaze again even as his long strides caught him up with you and Kyle. His mask was back in place now but his eyes were warm, smiling at you, even as his hand twined with yours. 

Finally. 

[mediumgayitalian]

“Man overboard!”

Annabeth does, in fact, understand that such a cry warrants hastiness. Hurry, even.

“Man overboard! Man overboard!”

Most men, after all, cannot swim, and if the whispers are to be believed then this particular man is not even conscious to try. He is no doubt in peril, and the Fates have a stronger hold on his thread with every passing moment.

“Make way! Man overboard!”

If she is jostled one more time, however.

“Man overboard! Lower the ladder, man overboard!”

Should even one more crew yank her back away from the walls of the ship, patting her on the arm as they shove her ‘somewhere more befitting for such a finely dressed lady’.

“Hook it around him, for the gods’ sake, man overboard!”

There are going to be several more men joining him.

“Clear a path! Clear a path!”

She makes it, finally, to the rail unimpeded enough to lean over and see the man who, she has heard, has fallen overboard. He clings like dark-haired Danaë on the waterlogged hope of a wine barrel, bare back burned from the sun, nose nearly dragging along the friendly swirling waves. His dignity is covered, barely, by a torn, bloodstained cloth, and his tanned skin is crisscrossed with raised white scars.

He is handsome.

She stumbles back from the hull, face burning. And absurd thought to have. She seeks out deliberately a close-cropped head of blond hair, smiling tersely when Captain Grace meets her eyes, offering her a nod.

“Straight line,” she murmurs to herself, pulling back her shoulders.

She gives the men plenty of distance as they haul the downed sailor up from the depths. It irks her, really, to be following their orders, but to help or to offer it would mean more of the jostling, the pushing. More grimey hands irreparably staining the fine silk of the new dress Mother had sent her with.

It takes the crew an embarrassingly long time to haul the man up, even though Annabeth can see, as one of the bulkier men wraps a limp arm around his shoulders, that he is slight. He has the shoulders of a swimmer and the leanness of a scavenger, but his frame is small. In fact she is almost sure that upright, they would stand shoulder to shoulder. Perhaps an inch on his part, nothing more.

She realises, with a start, that the crew is staring at her, and forces her second blush of the day back from whence it came. She meets the expectant states with a tilted chin and hard eyes, drawing her skirts and clicking her heels against the groaning deck.

“What,” she snaps.

“He’s unconscious, my lady.”

“So? Place him out of the sun, have someone monitor him.”

The crewman supporting the unconscious man — truly, Annabeth needs to learn these men’s names; it would be easier if any of them spoke to her at any time other than to ask if the sun was making her feel faint — shifts from foot to foot.

Well.

Foot to peg.

“Yes,” he says eventually. He makes some sort of vague gesture with his hand, stepping forward. “Er — our thoughts exactly, my lady.”

Still, no one moves. The unconscious man’s head lolls, pitching his whole weight forward. Another sailor lunges forward to catch him, readjusting him so he’s steady.

Still, no one moves.

Annabeth shifts to face her betrothed. He winces under her sharp look, hand coming up to run the back of his neck.

“He may fare best under your care,” Captain Grace says hesitantly. “The bunks are unfit for someone in his condition. And my men can be…rough.”

“Choose your words carefully, Jason,” she warns.

Grimacing, Captain Grace plows on. “I mean no offense, my lady. We have no other women on the ship. Your cabin is cool and sheltered and I know you enjoy those weaving projects in idle time. He will not require much more than an eye to ensure he does not pass in his sleep. I can think of no one more capable to watch over him.”

The doctor, for starters, Annabeth thinks. Drunk as he is, the sickly rescue should be his charge; nursing him should be his task.

The crew doesn’t even glance at him, though. He stands happily to the side, red-faced and cross-eyed, bottle dribbling from his trouser pockets, and Annabeth fights the urge to bare her teeth.

“Whatever you believe is best, Captain,” she grits out. She glares at the crew, pausing on each man until he squirms under her gaze. “Do not leave him to soak my sheets.”

They leave him, instead, sprawled on the wooden floorboards.

Annabeth scowls.

A four week journey, her mother had told her. Barely a month at sea, with plenty of stops on the islands dotting the paths and a stack of journals for her research. Captain Grace’s vessel is exceptionally well-stocked and custom built by the brightest of his father’s engineers; so smoothly is it claimed to flow through the water that all aboard her will scarcely feel even the roughest rock of the waves.

A sharp veer to the side has Annabeth stumbling, nearly crushing herself under the man’s dead weight.

“Smooth,” she grumbles to herself, huffing as she drags him back upright. His skin is alarmingly cool from the bite of the water, and still slick. It takes her four tries to force his arm back over her shoulder, slippery as it is. “Top model, they say. Well, what a purse of lies that is. I could design a better ship in my —” she huffs, yanking him the last few feet towards her bed — “sleep.”

She could be more gentle with him, she supposes. If his head or spine is injured then her rough handling will doom him. But, well, penny, pound, et cetera. If he has a head injury and the waves haven’t killed him, her light tossing won’t, either.

Probably.

She deposits him on top of her quilt and then stands at the foot of her bed, hands on her hips, toes tapping. She tilts her head slightly to the right. Narrowing her eyes, she tilts it to the right. She wrinkles her nose and squints her eyes.

She can’t be faulted for her earlier thoughts, she decides.

He has a strange kind of charm to him. The same magnetism present in the performers of her mother’s court; men and women who gather in bright clothing and perform tricks and tease the audience, riding the thin line between furious huffing and uproarious laughter. Troublemakers, with enough skill to balance the line. Thin, twitching fingers and smile lines in the corner of his eyes, thick but maintained brows and dramatically bowed lips.

With a sound so great it rivals the billowing coal engines down billow, the man snores, trail of saliva trickling down his chin.

How revolting. Annabeth finds her lips twitching upwards and resets them deliberately into a graceful line.

Yes, he is the alluring kind. She wouldn’t be surprised if he turns out to be some kind of thief, or a cast-out stowaway. A wisecracker who pushed the envelope an inch too far.

She stalks over to the windowed wall of her tiny cabin, wrestling it open. The immediate relief of the sea breeze has her gasping, resisting the urge to stick her head out and bask in the cool air. That would be undignified, even if her room as become unbearably stifling with the presence of another person in it.

Gods, she is lonely.

She had hoped at least to have one of her ladies accompanying her. It would have been a little more bearable, the company, cramped as her cabin would be. On this ship now she is bored nearly to tears from sunup to sundown every day, barred from even the most menial of tasks that could upset her delicate womanliness and bereft of even a child to argue with. The crew tiptoes around her like she may crack to fine shards should they so much as offer her more than a fine morning, my lady, or the sun suits you quite beautifully, did you know, and Captain Grace loves nothing more than extended silences. In all honesty she only gets to talk to the ship’s mechanic, who, vulgar as he is, at least talks to her as he would anyone else on the ship. Sure, she can only stand so much of him at a time, and he’s been banned from breathing in her direction since the very first day of their expedition, but if she happens to be in the ship’s engine room as the same time as he is, then it would simply be impolite to ignore her.

Not that Valdez cares much for rules. Or her preferences.

Desperate times, et cetera, et cetera.

Knowing the deck will be too crowded for her to slip down below unnoticed, she settles down onto the old, rickety corner-desk with a sigh, cracking open her journal. Except for a string of blotty doodles along the edges, the paper is devoid of anything, as barren and numb as her mind feels. She understands, dramatic as it is, why so many sailors return from their voyages mad; why pirates and navies alike sail with crews. Even a day on the empty, open ocean without someone to talk to is maddening. She feels as if words flee from her vocabulary with every minute she doesn’t use them. What is there to do, on this stupid boat, besides sleep and eat and mope? She wishes she was allowed to steer the vessel, or watch from the nest. Not stimulating jobs, true, but jobs, at least. She has not sunk so low as to long for a deck-scrubber, but she is dangerously close. She can feel it. Another week at sea without much more than a loom and a needle and her mind will leap into the waves, she’s sure, abandoning her to the dull tedium of the stagnant clouds. The knowledge that she has three weeks left until they reach Lord Dyeus’ kingdom could make her break down into weeping, should she dwell on it long enough. By the time she returns to civilization she may no longer be suited for it.

A rustle sounds behind her, followed by a cut-off snort.

“…Somehow, I don’t think I’m at sea anymore.”

Annabeth yelps, nearly falling right off her chair. She scrambles upright, or tries to, but her stupid petticoats get caught up around her ankles and nearly send her toppling again, this time with even less of her dignity. It is only with sheer force of will that she manages to force her spine straight and upright in perfect time to meet the most gorgeous, sea green eyes she has ever seen.

“You drool when you sleep,” she informs him, darkly satisfied when the amused twinkle fades from his eyes in favour of a flat glare, hand coming up to swipe at his chin.

“I don’t suppose you could tell me where I am,” he mutters as the minutes stretch on.

Annabeth snaps her gaze back up to his face, wishing desperately her cabin had a second window.

“Captain Grace’s ship.” She swallows stiffly, collarbone suddenly itchy. “On route to the Kingdom of Lightning.”

The man’s face pales, long, calloused fingers twitching into fists.

“The ship carrying Princess Annabeth?”

Her mouth dries even further. “…Yes.”

“Someone needs to summon her, quickly. I have news. I — I come from Pirate Jackson’s ship — they threw me off board to drown.”

She knows, immediately, why he tells her this. Why his eyes go round with desperation, why his hands twist, why he has developed a sudden, scrutinizing interest in the view of the sea from outside her window, throat bobbing with every heavy suggestion.

But all hypotheses must be tested.

“Why?”

He meets her gaze, green eyes an exact mirror of the roiling sea around them; layered, stormy, and deeper than the darkest of trenches, wider than the night sky.

“Because they want to know her location. And I refused to give it up.”

———

next

[fatgirlsaresmarttoo]

I’m sick and tired of the men who blame women for the lack of support/ resources for men’s mental health. They act like they haven’t exploited the emotional labour of dozens of women in their lives through traumatizing them with their emotional and psychological problems. They act like every woman has an army of people they can turn to when we’re feeling sad, that we don’t get misdiagnosed and abused by the medical system, that we’re not constantly being gaslit by therapists, counsellors, nurses and doctors. I want every man to feel empowered to better their mental health and be able to express their emotions but please stop oppressing us in the process.

(Edit: Since this is getting a bit of attention, I just want to clarify that I am NOT a radfem! I am in full solidarity with my beautiful trans brothers and sisters!)

To clarify: I was using this definition of emotional labour.

[beeslibrarycorner]

Hiii!! I see ur taking request for cooper Lmaoo I love Coop too!! Could you maybe write what cooper is like after reader and him have their first baby (a girl preferably) and maybe a few months after!! Thank youuuu, I’d prefer prewar but if you wanna do headcannon style you can do prewar cooper and a world where ghouls can yk have little ones, all up to you!!

* Coop stays in the delivery room with you, he doesn’t care if that’s not what men of the time did. He wants to be in there to support you during this huge milestone.

* He sits right next to you and he doesn’t move, even when the doctors and nurses insist that the husband should not be in the room. He doesn’t budge.

* When the contractions start to get real bad he holds your hand talks you through them. He doesn’t care if it hurts with the way you’re squeezing his hand, he knows that’s this is his only purpose right now.

* When you do finally give birth, Cooper allows himself to breathe, your safe and the baby is safe too.

* Cooper is over the moon to find out that the baby is a girl. The doctors kept making comments about getting a son next time to cooper, he was not amused.

* When you finally get home from the hospital he’s there wherever you need him. He helps you with the healing process however he can.

* When the baby wakes up at night he’s there before you, he insists that you need the sleep.

* Cooper compared the first month of having his daughter home to being in the military (in a good way) he had time shifts to check in between his two special girls.

* Watching all the milestones is magical to him. Listening to her laugh and watching her sit up for the first time makes him so proud.

* Tummy time was not just a thing your daughter did. Cooper also participated during tummy time and he would play with the little blocks in front of your daughter.

* Cooper got a kick out of watching his daughter crawl around. Other parents would joke that once she learned to walk it would be the end of both your worlds. (Coop is not amused)

* Speaking of other parents, they kept making comments about how it’s a women’s job to care for the baby and it drives cooper up a wall. He’s always polite when he responds but he hates when people talk to him like he shouldn’t be in his daughter’s life as much as he is.

* When your daughter takes her first steps, cooper feels his heart stop beating for a second. The two of you are on the couch together while your daughter was crawling towards the coffee table. The two of you looked away from her for one second and when you both looked back she was standing with no support and waddling towards you.

* Cooper can’t wait to watch you grow up. He can’t wait to experience all the milestones and be the biggest support.

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen

TW: noncon, angst, trauma, PTSD, don’t read this if you like hot doctors named Julian (he was probably an actual sweetheart in canon, but we decided to flip that around in this, so read with that in mind)

You really should have foreseen it, before letting yourself hang out alone in the breakroom. But you are tired–exhausted, actually, and you can only blame so much on the work at hand.

Tom fucking Ludlow.

You find yourself grinning like an idiot at your sandwich–which is exactly how Dr. Julian Mercer finds you, of course. You don’t even fucking hear him approach. He just appears at your side like a ghost, and you nearly jump out of your skin as he says in a low voice, “Y/n.”

“Jesus Christ,” you wheeze, clutching your chest. “Julian…”

“Maybe Doctor would be more appropriate.” It probably would, but you’re not sure if he’s asking for this out of the cold indifference his tone suggests–or that other little extra meaning it has for the two of you.

“Okay, Doctor Mercer. Creep around like a fucking ghost much?”

“No. You were just distracted.”

You blow air between your teeth. You really don’t want to fight with this man right now, but it feels like he’s spoiling for something. “What do you want?”

He takes your hands in his, running gentle fingers over marks on your wrists that have now mostly faded. You hate to admit it–but this careful, questing touch sends a thrill across your skin. “The animal,” he growls under his breath. “Clearly no clue as to what he was doing.”

Hoo boy, was he wrong about that.

“Did you have a safeword at least?”

“No…?”

“Fucking amateur.” 

You don’t know how to tell him, that rendering sex absolutely clinical with boundaries and safewords beforehand just doesn’t do it for you. You just…trusted Tom not to hurt you. And he didn’t. 

“Julian…”

“Doctor.”

“Yeah, that. What do you think you’re doing?” You try to pull your hands away, but he holds on, just firm enough to keep you. Despite what Tom likes to taunt, Julian is not little, or weak.

The look in his eyes is that of a man drowning.

“Losing my mind?”

“You are being ridiculous. You have got to let it go.”

“I’m trying, but I can’t stop thinking about you.”

This is absurd. Men do not lose their shit over you. They use you, then throw you away at their first convenience. You give a fat sigh that you hope conveys your annoyance. 

“Julian, have you seen the women that walk around this hospital? Better, Have you seen the women in your BDSM club? Have you never thought of trying one of those girls out? I mean, they are into the same stuff.” 

His thumb presses on the dark marks the belt left on your wrist, making a little diffuse ache light your skin. “You are clearly into BDSM, y/n. Just the unsafe way of doing it, I suppose.” 

Okay, now he’s just plain pissing you off. Once again, a man insinuating that you’re too stupid and naive to advocate for yourself. Too weak to take initiative, too gullible to know that you have to. You wrench your hand back from him, and he glares after it like it called him a dirty name. “Are you kidding me?” You say, not hiding the bite of your words, “and setting people on fire is just so safe, right? Whipping someone’s feet is the safest thing you can do in sex, yep, boy howdy, you’re absolutely right, Julian. How stupid of me.” 

Your aim is to hurt him with your words, although now you’re regretting it when he looks back at you with those big, brown, sad orbs. Fuck, you can just never win with this man and his multiple personalities. He runs a hand through his hair. “You’re with him, then?” 

“I’m…” you take a breath and try to step outside of yourself for a minute and view the situation objectively, just like you learned to do in therapy, and what you’re seeing is a misguided man who doesn’t know he can bag any freaky woman he wants become overly attached to you because he was vulnerable with you that one time. “I’m not.” How do you word it without sounding pathetic? “I’m not that great of a catch. I promise you there is a much better person out there for you.” 

“I don’t think so,” he says quietly, intensely, sending a shudder through you that freezes and burns all at once. “Do you love him?” 

“What?” You ask incredulously. “I just met him.”

“Well, then, I still have a chance.” 

Your fist clenches unconsciously, ready for a fight. Maybe a metaphorical fight, but a fight nonetheless. “No,” you tell him, swallowing your nice, “you don’t, Julian.” 

“What if…I promised not to punish you?”

This does make you pause, and you swear, not because you’re actually considering it, but because you are surprised he would even think to compromise his needs, for you. 

It’s a heady feeling, if not entirely misplaced.

“No,” you answer, much too late. “No, no, nope.”

“I can see you’re intrigued.”

“No, I’m…flabbergasted. It wouldn’t be any fun for you.”

He looks you up and down, blatantly checking you out. You swear you will never get used to that look in a man’s eyes, trained on you. “I wouldn’t say that.” Then his attention turns back to your wrists, tracing the marks Tom’s belt left again with fascination. “Just let me…do this to you. God, the things I would do to you.” He inches closer as he says this, until before you know it you are standing nearly chest to chest, and your heart is beating at a mile a minute.

You have to try twice, before you find your voice. “That’s exactly what scares me about you, Julian.”

He dares to touch you, turning your face up to his with his palm on your jaw. “That you might like it, y/n?”

You take a deep breath, and you step back, away from Julian. Away from your sandwich too, unfortunately. But you guess you’re going to have to write it off. Or circle back later. You have no further clever quips to offer Dr. Julian Mercer. For lack of a better word–you flee.

At the nurses’ station a bright and cheery reminder of someone else’s devotion awaits you. A happy bouquet of sunflowers, with a simple card that reads, Dorothy, Thinking about you. Glad you’re not in Kansas anymore -T It is just the boost to morale you need, after your chilling little interlude with Julian.

However, you don’t get to take them home. They disappear while you are working, and you think you know who is to blame for the childish act of revenge. Rather than letting it drop, you decide to prove to Julian that you have boundaries and he can’t just push you around like this. 

You catch him as he’s about to get into his car, and get Deja Vu from the scenario. The parking garage isn’t well lit, empty of other humans, and damp with oppressive LA heat. Maybe it’s not the best place to confront a man, but you never claimed to be a complete genius. And, now that you’re here…

“Julian, do you know where my sunflowers went? From the desk? Tom got them for me.”

He looks down at you with dark eyes. “Fresh flowers are a health code violation. I had to dispose of them.” 

And you thought Tom could make you livid; Julian is here proving that he can spike your anger from a two to a ten in one simple sentence. “And what about the flowers you got me that stayed at the desk? Huh? Those were fine, right?”

He shrugs. “No.” 

“So, what the fuck?” You’re raising your voice, feeling the heat of anger singing through the blood in your body like a vengeful choir. Your fist clenches to actually punch him—God, you want to. 

“I’ll buy you more flowers,” he says, as if that’s going to fix the problem. 

“I don’t want your flowers,” you growl, “I don’t want you, Julian!” 

Before you know what’s happening, he has you gripped up in his hands and pressed against the door of his car, mouth on your own, bullying inside to suck and bite and bruise. You try to push and kick and thrash against him, but his long body is pressed firmly into yours, holding you steady against warm metal. His blunt fingers dig into the flesh of your upper arms and make you gasp, which allows him further entrance into your mouth.

You can’t fucking breathe with him latched onto you like this, and your frantic hands reach to tear at his scrubs, his belt, his skin. He pulls away, blessedly, panting and wild eyed, and you immediately start in on him. “Get the fuck off me, Julian.” You writhe in short, shallow breaths, lungs crushed by his heavy torso and unable to entirely fill. 

“This is what you want,” he says, ignoring your demand. “You want someone to take advantage of you. Make you, force you. And if that’s what you need, that’s what I can give.”

“I don’t want that,” you reply. “I want the opposite of that! Get off me! I will scream.” 

His mouth edges into a terrifying smile. “You think anyone’s going to hear you?” He asks, looking around the empty parking garage. “You think anyone’s going to save you if I decide to take you home for a few days and do terrible things to you?” He grabs your chin, fingers spanning the entire bottom, reminding you of the size difference and making you whimper in pain. He presses his lips against the shell of your ear. “Make you regret having nerve endings…” 

Your whole body is shaking violently with adrenalized fear. Sweet Doctor Julian is a fucking wolf in sheep’s clothing, and he’s hungry for your flesh and blood. You should have known. You should have seen this coming. Shouldn’t you be an expert on narcissists and abusers by now? Shouldn’t you have been smarter? Shouldn’t you do the smart thing now and convince him to let you go?

“Please, Julian.” Disgust bubbles in your gut, reacting vehemently to the pathetic, pleading voice that leaves your mouth. “Please don’t.” 

He pulls your chin up a little higher. “You can beg prettier than that.” 

“Please, Doctor.” You swallow the raging hatred you have for yourself. “Please don’t hurt me. I’ll be a good girl.” 

He hums and kisses you temple, lips ghosting into your hairline as he inhales your shampoo choice. “You’re lucky I don’t put you on your knees right here and make you choke on my cock for a while, pumpkin.” 

“Please.” You give him your best impression of a beaten dog with wide, owl eyes, hoping you can somehow get out of this without actually getting hurt. All you can think of is Tom; how you wish he was here to beat the fuck out of Julian, how you should have let him beat the fuck out of Julian on your doorstep. 

His hand moves down, pressing softly into the front of your throat, just enough to make it uncomfortable. “It’s refreshing to see something so wild become so tame with fear.” Fear is an understatement. Pure panicking terror is what consumes you. Bred from C-PTSD and Julian’s heavy, big hand on your throat. You’ve been here before, small and terrified under a man with power… And, suddenly, you’re her again, that little girl trembling and cowering and cornered. You don’t know that you’re crying until a little tear tickles down your cheek. 

He kisses that saltwater trail, peeks his tongue out to taste your sad desperation and shivers against you. “You taste delicious.” 

Fucking Hannibal Lector, Psycho, serial killer. How did you not see it? How? 

It occurs to you that Tom saw it, saw straight through the mask, to the beast beneath Julian Mercer’s carefully constructed facade, all along. He’d warned you, but like the stubborn little idiot you are, you didn’t listen. 

Tom. Somehow it’s the thought of him, how he looks at you like you are precious, like you’re not stupid, like you are something worth saving, that breaks your thought pattern, your desire to just freeze and hope this man with his hand on your throat isn’t going to hurt you, hope that the bad thing goes away if you’re still enough, small enough, don’t draw attention to yourself. You think on what Tom would have you do.

You hear Ludlow’s voice, plain as day, cutting through the fear: c’mon, you have just enough room to fuck him up. 

You drive your knee as absolutely hard as you can into Dr. Julian Mercer’s gonads. 

The good doctor crumbles with a groan that sounds like his soul leaving his body. 

You run. On your shaking legs as fast as you can to your car, barely able to unlock the door with your trembling hands trying to manipulate your keys in the lock. You feel like you’re in a horror film. Instead of being the one yelling at the screen, Don’t run up the stairs, stupid!—you are the stupid girl, and you have so much sympathy for the girl being chased by the Big Bad with a knife and having no idea what to do with your hands. 

No. You are not dying today. You are not letting this monster win today. You are not fodder. You are Final Girl material, goddammit. Maybe you never believed it before, but Tom’s voice is still in your head. You can hear him ordering you what to do. Put in your key. Twist. Open. Get in. Lock the door. 

 You manage all this somehow, just before Juian slams against your window, his face a mask of fury. “Open the door, y/n.” 

Maybe still channeling Tom, and maybe acting completely on your own now, you press your middle finger against the window for him before starting your engine and peeling away. He barely manages to stumble back in time to save his toes from getting crushed by your racing tires. 

[lucysarah-c]

WE NEED AN ENTIRE STORY OF LEVI AS A BABY BOY DADDY! LIKE PLEASE ITS ACTUALLY TOO GOOD 🙏🙏🙏🙏😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏😭😭😭😭😭😭😭🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏😭😭😭😭😭😭

You all have inspired me to write a one-shot, so I'll post it soon. Thank you so much!

But since I'm on it, I think I'll give you a few headcanons.

In my idea, Levi didn't have many children, and while sometimes my scenarios may change depending on the situation, mostly Levi's boy would be an only child. This wasn't Levi's original idea, and I'll explain why.

Leaving aside whether in the canon period of time there are real contraceptives or not, I 100% believe Levi is a highly meticulous guy. If he needs to pull out and count days in the old-fashioned way, he will. If he has to wear condoms every single time, he will. I believe Levi would try to make sure that if he ever has a child, it would be planned, as far as is humanly possible, of course. Sometimes contraceptives fail, etc.

In my mind, I believe Levi and Y/N decided or happened to have a kid around the time before the expedition to Wall Maria. There was about half a year when the scouts waited for the correct time to do the expedition to Wall Maria. Well, I believe she probably got pregnant around that time. I believe it was a mix between Levi transitioning a lot of emotions after Kenny's death, etc., and having more free time on his hands since they weren't doing expeditions while preparing for the mission… and well… let's say they decided to go handy, haha.

With that said… I think Levi would hardly admit it out loud, but he's one of those guys who always wanted to be parents, so they kinda said, "You know what? Fuck it, if it happens, it happens," and well, it happened almost immediately. Levi hears the news around two months later, and let me tell you, this man is all over the moon. He wants to be part of EVERYTHING. For me, Levi wants to prove that he is better than the men who failed his mother and also failed him. Levi wants to prove he can be a present father.

She goes to the doctor for just a check, he wants to be there. Better keep his man informed because he would ask a million questions. He's a first-time father, and she may sneeze, and he's all worried. Levi saw too many women die in childbirth or from difficult pregnancies in the underground. He's blessed with the chance of being a father, but also terrified. Levi feels that if he loses his love just because he "grew selfish" and asked for more (aka asked for a kid), he would feel horrible.

Anyways, back in the day, men waited outside during birth, and I believe they would try to kick Levi out of the room, and he would be like, "and who is going to stop me?" He wants to be there.

Now is when his baby boy comes into the picture. I believe, and God bless the mother, he was such a healthy CHUNKY boy. He was BIG. Those kinds of kids that look so healthy but at the same time, it's like "he literally sucked her dry, that baby took anything the mother has to offer."

Like, she's too tired after childbirth, and the nurses offer Levi feeding bottles with milk to keep the baby eating while the mother rests… and the baby is EATING to the point a doctor comes, pats Levi's arm playfully, and says, "Hope you've a good salary, Captain, because that kid is going to eat like a horse."

Perhaps these are the only few times that Levi is the most excited out of the two, she's tired from all the work, and Levi is over the moon. Ah, but don't you dare to touch his baby without washing your hands. If Levi could force you to take a bath in chlorine before even getting close to his baby, he would.

Aside from that, I think Levi's baby boy that I've named in my mind "Adrien" because Y/N thinks that naming her kids with A's to match the last name, especially since Ackerman's are finally able to not be in hiding.

In my mind, Adrien inherits Kenny's height. Yes, as you heard, KENNY'S HEIGHT. 190cm (6'3"). He's a big boy. I think it's funny that all the doctors check the baby and say, "haha, he's going to be tall!" and Levi is there looking at her like "… I don't like to admit I'm short as fuck, but if the kid isn't mine you can tell me," joking obviously, lmao.

"Levi, the kid is a photocopy of you."

Adrien is an extremely playful, happy, and hyperactive kid. He's so cheerful, and it makes Levi wish his mother was around so he could ask if he was such a cheerful kid too.

Chunky fat legs running down the halls as he doesn't even speak properly, but he already knows which office is daddy's office. He loves horses, he loves playing soldier, he loves being a daddy's boy.

This is when I mention that I believe Levi having a single child wasn't his original plan. I think he wished to give Adrien a sibling to make sure he won't be alone in life if anything ever happens to him as he was. But the whole rumbling happened, and after that, Levi was too busy trying to move him and his family outside of Paradise and after that settling down, taking care of Gabi and Falcon, that well time flew, and when everything was back to calmness, haha, well let's say that Levi had to admit that the train had left the station, and his energy to go back to change diapers had kinda withdrawn, lmao.

Finally, I think Adrien was a very hyperactive kid mainly because of the Ackerman genes. He has energy, he has strength, he has the abilities. He just has too much bottled up and doesn't know how to get tired. Levi is basically running around making sure the kid isn't jumping from the roof or climbing the kitchen cupboards. He probably ends up signing him up for a bunch of activities: baseball, self-defense classes, football, triathlon.

I have a bunch of other headcanons, so let me know if you want more!"

Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @i-literally-cant-with-this @angelofthorr @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @s0meb0dy-0nce-t0ld-me @trashblackrainbow @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @flxrartsstuff @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[yuri-for-businesswomen]

„prostitution is not the only job that comes with health risks“ okay but what do they risk their health for though. and does the health risk come from a lack of regulation or is it inherent? jobs with inherent risks are usually those that save lives (nurses, doctors, fire brigade, for example), and jobs with a lack of regulation mixed with some inherent risks usually provide a necessary value for society (examples installation of electricity, mining, industrial sewing, farming, teaching). what are women and other marginalised people in prostitution risking their health for? for men to get off, something they can even do by themselves? and youre seriously standing here and comparing these? its giving mindless regurgitation of „sex work is work“. no sex work is sex, and undesired/unwanted one at that.

[biteofcherry]

Okay, I lied. It's me again! 🫠🤤🥵

Since Kindergarten Teacher!Ari Levinson got paired up with a nice Aunt to a cute niece, what kind of pairings would the following have in that same Kindergarten School? How would they meet up and how would they hook up?

1) Administration Officer!Lloyd Hansen - He's also in-charge of the Secretaries, Nurses, Receptionist, etc.

2) Maintenance Coordinator!Curtis Everett - He's in-charge of the Bus Drivers/Supervisors, Utilities, Security Guards, etc.

3) Principal!Steve Rogers - He's in-charge of Academics and Administration

4) Accountant!Bucky Barnes - crunching numbers

5) Public Relations Officer!Ransom Drysdale - includes Marketing

6) CEO/KG Consultant!Andy Barber - He's the head honcho

7) Kindergarten Teacher!Nick Fowler

I don't know if you're aware, but I've been naming you evil goblin Anon. Turns out the goblin is occasionally a softie, who doesn't only want to see me suffer 😜

In reference to kindergarten teacher Ari.

Under the cut because my reply turned out long. Also some of these are fucking hilarious 😂 really, better not be drinking when you read it, especially Lloyd and Nick 🤣

Lloyd - of course he's in charge of all the secretaries, receptionists and nurses, I bet he has a different one for every day of the week (weekends included) 😎 He likes to undo buttons on women's clothes, but loves to push buttons even more. And what a better opportunity than meeting with an OSHA inspector! In reality, Lloyd makes sure everything is perfect when it comes to regulations, nothing needs to be improved, but he just loves the faces you make when he plays a careless asshole. His smirk when you stare at him, unsure if he was joking or being serious about leaving some wires for the kids to play with. At the end of inspection Lloyd makes a comment that usually after being poked and probed at the doctor's he gets a lollipop, but what you'll give him instead after your probing 🤣 Lloyd instantly knows he hit the jackpot with you, when he said in a low tone "I've never violated OSHA regulations at work, but I can violate you a bit later, if you want me to, Sunshine" and you moaned.

Curtis - Your catering company is newly hired to prepare meals for the kids of that kindergarten. The staff can also get the meals, but you've noticed Curtis never joins others at the time of meal. You've made some inquiries, if perhaps his meal wasn't paid in advance, but it turned out it was, he just ate it much much later (apparently after everyone was gone). So one day, after helping out dishing out all the food to hungry kiddos and the staff, you take Curtis' portion and go around looking for him. You find him in the far corner of the playground, sitting in the sun and eating a small sandwich. Turns out, Curtis avoids shared meals, because he's aware the kids are a bit scared of him (he's big, dressed in dark clothes which often get dirty from all the maintenance work he does, and has some visible scars). So he eats alone and later takes his catering portion back home. Somehow, since that day, you end up sharing lunch with Curtis. And one day he asks, if you'd maybe like to also eat dinner with him. In a restaurant.

Steve - gets me, because I said so 😏 Seriously, tho. Steve ends up with a doctor/nurse. It's a completely outside of kindergarten meeting, however it's because of the kindergarten. Steve ends up in your ER after getting into a fight with one of the fathers (it was a complete mess, Andy almost went completely gray because of it). When he tells you he got into a fight you almost roll your eyes, because you're so done with aggressive men. But then he mentions he punched a kid's father after learning he was abusing his kids. And he didn't care if he was going to lose his job, he doesn't tolerate any bullies, but especially ones hurting children. It wasn't a part of medical treatment, but you were ready to suck his dick right then and there. Instead, you offered him lunch (and went down on him afterwards...)

Bucky - he's a nerdy, focused, hot as fuck cutie who ends up with a fellow cute, nerdy accountant. You managed to get into kindergarten's accountant on internship, though they usually hire only Bucky. He's half your colleague, half mentor and 100% the hero of your needy dreams. There's occasional flirting, but Bucky won't cross the line as long as you're an intern. So you spend your working hours being dutiful, but also talking over your passions or new discoveries, or funny stories. You kinda meet Bucky's sister, because she tends to call at least once a week and he just puts her on speaker - which led to you occasionally joining their conversations. Then in the evening you lie in bed and get yourself off, imagining Bucky. Then your internship ends and it's almost heartbreaking that you won't get to see him daily. Bucky asks if you'd like to do a small send-away, which ends up just the two of you in a nice restaurant and then a stroll and ice cream, and then you losing count of your orgasms.

Ransom - I never even thought kindergartens have PR officers. If it's a private one then I get it, I guess. But I don't think Steve would run a private one, so we just going to assume Ransom does marketing for them as an annoying favor (while also having his main job for a different company). Still, pro-bono or not, Ransom is adamant on maintaining his level of professionalism, which means his level of snobbish. You're a single mom who is very engaged and critical. Steve doesn't have to rein Ransom in, because you're there, marching into his office with complaints about making the new website of the affordable kindergarten look as if it was for upper class only. There are a few other occasions when you clash with him, until the annual kids' photoshoot comes. You're ready to argue with Ransom again, expecting him to organize some snobbish royal type of stiff photoshoot, but instead it's a carefree, happy chaos at a mini zoo. And Ransom is there in simple jeans and softest looking sweater, holding a fucking baby goat. You bluntly propose him sex, because you really really felt like fucking him. What starts as a few hot booty calls turns into something more serious.

Andy - poor Andy needs someone to help him survive this kindergarten from hell that he's running. The kids are great, but his staff is causing him gray hair 😂 You meet Andy when you write your dissertation and set up a meeting with him to talk about economics in educational systems. During your interview Andy notices that while you ask very smart questions, you seem bored by it all. It's quite unprofessional, but you admit to him that you chase your degree, because you always thought you want to make a big career. But the last few years, especially since you've been visiting some kindergartens when doing research, you've found yourself longing after that - having kids, caring for them and for a household. You blurt out to Andy that you get so very excited about doing decorations and baking for the holidays and if you could that would be your daily reality. It hits a certain spark in Andy's housewife kink, but he simply comments that you can always make that dream come true after getting your degree. He also asks you to give him a call when your paper is finished. And you actually do. You're so proud and happy (including being happy that it's over), then Andy invites you to dinner. Few months later you end up married and pregnant and happy to stay at home.

Nick - first of all, when I thought of Nick as a teacher the only thing that came to my mind was:

🤣🤣🤣

seriously, I bet he's the one teaching kids about secondary locations

So I went with that thought. Nick is a teacher, but not of one group of kids. He's hired to do safety drills and teach how to call an ambulance, or what to do if you know something bad is happening to another kid. He's also there when groups go on trips. But he occasionally can be too cool about it, aka too brusque. Kids love it, but you - a fellow teacher - try to keep him in line. At a kindergarten's funfair, where Nick helps kiddos throw balls to dunk principal Rogers, you eat too much funnel cake (well, you tell yourself later it's because of all the sugar) and drag Nick into an empty classroom for a quickie (insert a joke about taking him to a secondary location🤣)

[yandereheathen]

Loving Caretaker [18+ Yandere x GN Reader]

Warnings! -Yandere obsessive Behavior -Non-con - Drugging -Gaslighting - NSFW (unprotected sex is a no no!) Word Count: 1445 He couldn't help it. Part 2.

Korm sat smiling at you as you peeked into his room. It was time for his lunch, the smell of the potatoes and leek soup creeping into the room mixed with something else as the cool fall air pushed into his stuffy room. Your scent. Like outside, a sweet, earthy smell he wished he could take into his whole body, not just his lungs. He relaxed as you softly stepped up to his bed, setting the wooden table on his lap in front of him. As per ritual, he went to his head, brushing his dark hair from his forehead. Your fingers made him excited, but he controlled himself. After all, it was other touches he wanted more. He leaned into your hand, closing his eyes and enjoying the moment.

"You are still a bit warmer than yesterday. I know you enjoy your weighted blanket, but I am worried you get too hot."

It was a crunch, perhaps. The blanket was a cheap replacement to make Krom feel like you were holding him tightly as he slept. He shook his hand, leaning on your shoulder as you let go of his head and sat beside him. 

"I like it. Also, it gets frigid at night Y/N. It is just the seasons changing. Didn't my Mother tell you how I got worse this time of year?"

You let out a heavy breath as you hug the poor man to your chest affectionately like a mother would her child. He, however, had other thoughts as you held him to you—a less Savory moment of you both where his face is at your chest.

You take his face in his hands and squish so his lips pucker up at you and take him out of his daydream. Your eyes sparkle at him with warmth and love as you massage his face, listing what you would do today. Breakfast, physical therapy, and some reading of the newest Brandom Sanderson secret novel that just came out, and if he were good, you would sneak him some time on your switch to play whatever game you wanted.

If he was good, he was your good little patient. He wanted nothing more than to hear you praise him and spoil him like you or the last three months you have been under his Mother's employ to take care of him.

The pleasure of all your attention made the fact that he was faking everything that much easier.

It started about the age of 15 when he realized when he was sick, everyone spoiled him. His Mother, his siblings, and even the doctors and nurses. They indulged him, and he thrived in the attention and care he got from them. He has in-home nurses, men and women rotating when they got too close or started noticing his charts didn't quite add up to how he looked. However he had them handled, no one would question poor, sickly Korm. 

You, you were different than anyone he had met. He knows you were put on this earth to care for and love him. He was here to be cared for and loved by you. He couldn't think that you were possibly just the kind of person who loved watching for others, and your smiles and careful touches had no hidden romantic agenda behind them. You should only look at him and care for him. That is what you were made for. It just took a frustratingly long time for you to get to him. He will forgive you, though. He always does. He would never stay angry at you for long. You were his whole world, and he was yours.

He would make sure of that.

As you both sat outside watching the leaves fall, his head was nuzzled in your lap, clinging to your thigh as you patted his head, playing with his dark hair as you read to him. He was in bliss. He loved laying outside with you as you read to him, your voice filling his ears, the warmth from your core on his cheek. The calm from the story was all that was holding him back from biting into the skin that his shorts were showing. While his mind wandered, you briefly set the book down.

"Korm, how are you feeling? If you need another sweater, you can use mine if you like."

How cute.

He nods, frowning slightly, feeding into the act by shivering barely, even if he felt perfectly fine. You undid your sweater, a tight T-shirt under it. His eye loomed over, and a small smile spread on his lips as you wrapped him up in your warmth. You hugged him while you did so, pausing for a moment; you let him go and turned him to you.

"Korm, I am going away next week. Just to go see...a Friend. Your Mother and I had coordinated the nurse to stay with you. I will ensure you are all set and she knows what you like. I will be back before you know it.."

His heart stopped. Now, he really felt sick. You couldn't. He needed you like the day required the sun. You couldn't leave him. You couldn't a b a n d o n h i m.

His thoughts raced, making him dizzy on his feet, and you held him, calling his name.

Who was this friend? Where were you going? What if you didn't come back. What if something happened to you? What if someone took you away or you got hurt. Our worst, what if you fell in love with someone. You were so sweet, so gullible, and caring. Anyone can just trick you easily.

He wouldn't let that happen. You were his. You would stay with him.

After his "attack," you had settled him back in bed, running around, making sure he was warm. And comfortable while calling and speaking to his doctors and Mother. He just looked away from you, stewing. His plan formed as you stepped outside, and he sat up to let his doctor look over him.

"You know, it might be my trouble sleeping. Doctor, would you have anything strong to help me sleep. Something that won't wake me up no matter what? I think it will be the perfect thing for my issue."

He stoked your face as you slept in his bed, hovering over you. 

So precrious while you slept. Of all the times we would sneak into your room next to him, this was different. Your breathing was lighter, and the tea he had made you was a special.. addition. It was next to your bed, empty.

He had already gone through your phone. The messages from the person with the pink heart beside their name almost made him sick. You must have just forgotten. You were made for him and him alone. He would remind you. He hit the delete and block buttons with pleasure, not before sending a nasty message to them. He canceled your flight and even, to be extra careful, canceled your cards as well. That will keep you here with him for a while.

He cooed at you, nuzzling your passed-out neck as he climbed over you. That smell, the warmth. He needed to be closer. He needed to be with you.

He wanted to be inside of you. Make sure you have a part of him wherever you go.

He bit your ear, sucking on the soft plush lobe, his hands wandering along your sleeping form. 

"I love you Y/N. I love you so much it hurts. Won't you take care of me like you always do?"

He settles between your legs, kissing and sucking down your neck, lifting your shirt so his greedy mouth can indulge in your taste. He needily pressed himself to you, his cock painfully hard and already leaking with his love for you, rutting with the force of months of nasty thoughts about this moment. He finds his way to your nipple, which is now hardened and rising fast with your intake of breath from his attack of kisses and humping. He smiles, sucking his other hand, massaging and pinching the other. 

He sits up after giving your chest 10 minutes of attention and feeling you cum against him from the stimulation with satisfaction. He licks his lips, unable to wait as he presses himself to your now lubed-up hole, his eyes crazy with his love for you.

"Don't worry, Y/N. I will take care of you this time. I will ensure that I will take care of you daily for the rest of your life. My wonderful, wonderful caretaker."

Author Note: ahhh here it is...I feel like it was short but here we are :> my first writing I hope everyone like it <3

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

Being a native of Foosha Village and falling for Shanks would involve...

Shanks x reader

Sorry if the timeline is a bit wonky, I wasn't able to determine how long exactly the Red Haired pirates spend on Foosha nor how much time passes between the beginning of Luffy's adventure and him getting a bounty, at least in the Live Action continuity...

*****

🏴‍☠️ Being Foosha's resident doctor, you have known Luffy since he was a baby; he is usually in good health, but sometimes you are called to treat a small wound or a bruise he sustained while he played... or got into trouble as usual. You quickly grow fond of the child, who in turn comes to consider you as a sort of older sister. He routinely eats at your place when the Partys is closed, and you insist he regularly attends the village's school, pointing out even a pirate needs a basic education.

🏴‍☠️ One day you are called to the village's little harbour; a pirate crew has docked that morning, some members of the crew have come down with a sickness they cannot diagnose, and the captain has insisted none of them go ashore lest they infect the villagers. Privately you have your misgivings about their presence, in case your visitors are the sort of people who depredate defenseless villages and indulge in violence and bloodshed for the sheer pleasure of it, but as a doctor you have sworn to assist any person who needs it, so you take your bag, introduce yourself once you have reached the ship, and are admitted on board.

🏴‍☠️ You are quickly brought to the captain, and so you find yourself face to face with Red-Haired Shanks, one of the most famous pirates of the Four Seas... even though he doesn't look particularly glorious at the moment. He explains that the first signs of the sickness appeared three weeks ago, when a few of his men started coughing and complaining of chills even though it was summer, and soon many of them were struck down with the fever that, in the confined spaces of the ship, quickly spread to the whole crew, even though the captain ordered to confine the sick in their quarters... and then to do the same to the healthy ones, to protect them. There had been no one capable to treat the men, since the ship doctor had been killed in a scuffle with another crew two months ago, and since then they had not acquired another yet.

🏴‍☠️ "Not the wisest decision of my life, I know; I should have realized that a doctor is vital for a crew, more than a cook or even a navigator. I thought we would have more time, because we hadn't needed one in more than a year... please, help us." he says; he is lying on his cot, clearly weak and in pain for the fever, but there is an unquestionable, unquenchable energy in his eyes, the desperate fire of his force of will that has led him to become one of the most respected and powerful pirates of the Four Seas, burning as bright as his red hair "I will pay you well, you have my word, and I promise we came to your village to rest for a while and search for help; we don't want to hurt anyone. No, take care of my men first; some of them have been in pain for weeks. Save them, I beg you."

🏴‍☠️ The desperation in his voice, the sincere worry of a captain who deeply cares for the men under his command, would be enough to dispel your qualms, if you had any. You immediately start attending your patients, and are relieved to realize they are suffering from red fever, a technically fatal illness that can nonetheless be quite easily cured, that a few men probably contracted on the last island they visited and then spread to the rest of the crew. The number of patients to treat causes some difficulty, but fortunately Foosha's apothecary is well-stocked with the ingredients you need to prepare the medicine, and Makino and a few other women offer to assist you as nurses. It takes a few days, but soon Shanks and his men are on the road to recovery, the least sick already back to health.

🏴‍☠️ Shanks is immensely relieved for your help, and thanks you profusely; as he promised, he offers to reward you handsomely for your service, and seems impressed when you insist to accept your usual fee and nothing more, plus a compensation for your assistants. "I am a doctor." you simply explain, shrugging your shoulders and sincerely convinced there is nothing heroic, or even just commendable, in what you did "I swore to help whoever needed it, pauper or King, hero or bandit; you and your men were sick, and I could treat you. End of the story." "Nevertheless, I really appreciate your help, doctor; meeting you was a blessing from the Gods." Shanks says; he is back on his feet, his already familiar straw hat on his head, and you find yourself smiling back without realizing. He has a very nice smile. "I was happy to help; and please, call me (name)."

🏴‍☠️ As promised, Shanks and his men create no disturbance in Foosha; rather, they take such a liking to your little village that they decide to stay for a while, to rest before resuming their travels. The villagers quickly grow fond of them, and soon Shanks and his crew become part of your community, as if those men hailing from the four corners of the world had always been there. You are, for obvious reasons, one of the first they come to know, and you learn to appreciate their company... especially the captain's.

🏴‍☠️ Once he and his men no longer need your assistance as doctor, you would have no reason to seek Shanks' company, nor he yours; still, you end up meeting every day or almost, all of it because of (or thanks to, you'll think back later) Luffy. Becoming a pirate has always been your young friend's dream and aspiration, and predictably Shanks, an expert captain and famous corsair, quickly becomes his idol; he follows him around, hanging off his words, begging to know about their travels and adventures, which Shanks is always happy to. Soon your young friend become a sort of mascotte for the pirate crew, a younger brother they all like and are happy to entertain.

🏴‍☠️ You are in the habit of going to the Partys every night, both to relax after work for a drink and spend some time with Luffy, and the pirates have likewise selected the bar as their favourite meeting point, which means that without either of you realizing (or wanting, which doesn't mean you regret it, or even try to avoid it) you and Shanks quickly become acquainted well beyond the simple relationship between a doctor and an one-time patient.

🏴‍☠️ The first opportunity you have to really bond happens during your village's yearly festival: there is music, food, dancing, even a firework display, and the pirates are obviously happy to join the celebration. You are sitting alone in front of a bonfire, having gotten momentarily separated from your friends, looking at the couples dancing as you vaguely reflect on your duties for tomorrow, when suddenly Shanks appears next to you. "You don't like dancing?" he inquires after you have greeted each other, as he slides on the bench next to you, a jug in his hands; you shrug, admitting that you actually do, but you haven't been invited by any of the men present. "Oh! Then they don't know what they're missing." Shanks seriously comments; he drinks a sip from his drink, leaves it on the bench, stands, and offers you hid hand. "Shall we?" he asks. "There is no need, really! You don't have to..." you hurry to explain, and he determinedly shakes his head. "I know I don't have to; but believe it or not, I enjoy dancing, and I am told I am pretty good at it. Come on, it is a night of celebration; let's enjoy it."

🏴‍☠️ You could point out that from what you have seen the pirates don't need a special occasion to revel and have fun, but you gladly accept Shanks' hand and let him lead you to the improvised dancefloor in the village's square. Shanks takes one of your hands in his, gently rests the other on your hip, and a moment later you are moving together in time with the music, and Shanks had not lied, he is actually a very good dancer, and you can't help smiling as you follow his steps, noticing that the red of his hair is even brighter than usual thanks to the light of the bonfire, and his smile brighter still. In the end, the rhythm changes to a slow dance, and Shanks gently circle your waist with an arm, just like all the men around you are doing with their partners. "Is this... all right?" he asks, suddenly uncertain, and you nod, intimately surprised of how all right it is, as you silently rest both of your arms on his shoulders, your hands overlapping behind his head. Another smile passes between you, a smaller, more intimate one; you suddenly feel shy, and giddy, and you wish this moment would never end.

🏴‍☠️ Unfortunately it does, in the end, when Shanks' men reclaim his help for a prank they are pulling; he then takes your hand and kisses the back. "The men of the village don't know what they are missing, you are a very good dancer." he says, and then the other drag him away, and you remain there, suddenly alone, and wondering why you feel so warm in the face, while the party goes on around you. Sleep eludes you that night, and when you finally dream, it is of him, still unsure whether what you are feeling is simply due to the moment of intimacy you shared during your dance... or this is something more lasting, and deep.

🏴‍☠️ You are still thinking about it that night, as you nurse your usual drink at the Partys, so lost in your thoughts Makino asks if you are all right. Before you can answer, "Is this seat taken?" someone asks pointing to the stool next to yours; it is Shanks, smiling at you, and you smile back as you nod, and he asks Makino for some dinner, his leg brushing against yours under the counter as he sits. Once more, you are quietly enjoying each other's company; as he eats, Shanks look at you out of the corner of his eye, and when your gazes meet and you realize, he smiles, not exactly unabashed but still not shy, open in his interest, and it is not the first time a man looks at you, but still, you feel yourself blushing... and, you discover, it is not an unpleasant sensation. Not at all. He asks about your job, and you reciprocate inquiring about a few places he and his crew have visited, and that you have always dreamed of seeing, even though you have never left Dawn Island, and have lived in the village your whole life. You doubt anything you can have to say could be of interest for Shanks, but he seems sincerely taken by your conversation... until his leg touches yours under the counter once more, this time not by accident, and you feel all the blood, and the warmth, of your body rush to your face.

🏴‍☠️ "I have made you uncomfortable. I am sorry." Shanks says after a moment, misinterpreting your silence for discomfort, and you quickly shake your head; you can see Luffy approaching on the street behind him, ready to demand his idol's complete attention, and you hurry to take advantage of the little time you have left. "Not at all. I... I am glad we had a chance to talk. I like it. I... I like talking to you." "And I like talking to you, (name). Really. You are... a really good person."

🏴‍☠️ After a while you decide it is time to go home. "See you tomorrow, Makino." you say as you take your bag and stand, and in a moment, Shanks has done the same. "I'll walk you home." he proposes, more as a request than as an order, and you are suddenly a young girl again, because your heart skips a beat. "But Luffy..." "Luffy is with the others, they can take care of them for a few minutes; there'll be no problem... unless you'd rather go alone, that is."

🏴‍☠️ Two minutes later you are walking side by side along the village's main street; you have slipped your arm under Shanks', his happy smile making you unconcerned about the gossip that will probably spread in the village as soon as someone sees the two of you together. You don't talk much, still enjoying each other's company, but Shanks uses his free arm to return the greeting of a few people who cross your path. "I love this place." he says after a while "The people here are so friendly and kind, I feel I could stay here forever."

🏴‍☠️ Usually a compliment paid to your village would please you; still, those kind words feel like someone had spilled a bucket of cold water on your head. "But you will not, right?" you realize, thinking out loud "You are pirates, the Sea is your home, and a stay in a town or village a simple vacation. You have been here for about two months; you'll probably leave soon, right?"

🏴‍☠️ Shanks' silence, and the touch of guilt in his dark eyes, is answer enough; he tries to meet your gaze, but you avoid him, suddenly feeling the stupidest, naivest woman of the East Sea. After a minute spent looking at your feet you hear Shanks softly calling your name. "I'm fine, don't worry..." "No, I mean... I think we're here, aren't we?" he asks, and your embarrassment deepens when you realize that you had indeed reached your house, and were it not for him you would have walked past it, and kept going until you crossed the whole village. "I'm sorry, I... I am so dumb..." you mumble as you begin searching for the keys in your bag.

🏴‍☠️ Shanks remains silent until he sees you open the door; he is serious, more serious than you've ever seen him, but his eyes are full of sadness. "I am sorry." you repeat, not quite sure what you're apologizing for, and he shakes his head. "I should be the one apologizing." he gently says; you're standing on the doorway, face to face, and you're torn between the impulse of closing the door, sparing yourself another moment of pain... and the desire to take advantage of the little time you have left, and invite Shanks in. You know he'll not decline (... right?), and it'll probably make it harder to say goodbye when he and his men will leave, and you're usually not one to let your feeling dictate your actions, but...

🏴‍☠️ "I better go." Shanks says, sparing you the need to decide, and for a terrible moment you think he means he's leaving Foosha right now, but he simply takes a step back, a sweet and concerned smile on his handsome face. "I am a pirate." he gently says "This is the life I have chosen, and... I will keep living it until there is life left in my body. I am not saying it is always easy, nor that I have never been tempted, but I could never live on land, no matter how... how good the company would be." "I would never ask you to." you assure him; the simple idea of a man who has probably lived a pirate life since he was a boy and has become one of the most notorious captains in the Four Seas, leaving everything behind for you, after having known you for two months, is risible, of course, but still, why can't you help feeling the tiniest bit disappointed? "Your men need you, and being a pirate is in your soul. You could never be happy otherwise, and... I want you to be happy, Shanks."

🏴‍☠️ There is nothing else to say, and after a quiet goodbye Shanks depart, and you remain looking at him through your window as you mentally chastise yourself, because how could you be so stupid to catch feelings for a man who you'll never have? You have only known each other for a few weeks, and the sooner he leaves the sooner your heart will begin healing, but you already fear you will never forget Shanks, not even in a hundred years.

🏴‍☠️ You begin avoiding him as much as you can, which means mainly avoiding the harbour and the Partys (you tell Makino this is a particularly busy period for your practice, not wanting her to think it is because of her; she looks at you, clearly unconvinced, but accepts your explaination) and hoping whatever feeling you have developed will soon start dissipate, like crushes often do, until... until one day Luffy shows up at your home, crying and more upset than you've ever seen him. "It's not me; it's Shanks." he says when you, terrified, start checking him for wounds or injuries "You need to come now, (name), he... he..."

🏴‍☠️ He wouldn't have looked for you if the patient were beyond helping, but Luffy is too upset to explain what exactly has happened to the captain, which can only increase the terror in your heart; you run to the harbour as quickly as your legs can carry you, and when you reach his cabin on the ship, Shanks, lying on his cot and surrounded by his closest friends, smiles, clearly pained but happy to see you. "Hey, here's my favourite dance partner." he says "I am fine, don't worry..." He clearly isn't, and your legs amost collapse under you when you see what has happened to his left arm; you are able to remain calm and focused as you clean the wound to avoid infection and then bandage it, while Shanks looks silently on, his eyes full of warmth and pain, not necessarily for himself.

🏴‍☠️ "What has happened to you?" you ask in the end, sitting on a stool Luffy has brought you before leaving with the others; Shanks quietly answers telling you all about the child's kidnapping, him intervening and having to fight the Sea King that inhabits the waters around the island, and this is when you start crying, overwhelmed by the courage and generosity of the man in front of you, who has paid such a terrible price for it. What will he do now? You know how tenacious and strong he is, but will he be able to fight and lead his men without an arm? You have already treated this sort of wound, and you know it might keep paining him for the rest of his days; what if an enemy takes advantage of his weakness and he can't defend himself...?

🏴‍☠️ "I am all right." he gently says as he uses the hem of his cape to dry your tears, and you feel more guilty than ever, because he has just gone through a terrible trauma, and still he is able and willing to comfort you "Truly; Luffy is safe and this is what matters. It is just an arm, I have a spare one to use..." "How can you joke about it?" you ask, crying and laughing at the same time, and then you have thrown your arms around his neck, sobbing and hating how useless you feel, and Shanks holds you tight with his arm around your waist and his cheek against your shoulder, feeling your very presence more soothing and healing than any opiate or medicine he could have taken. "It is so good to see you again." he whispers; you can both feel your hearts beating as one, a sensation whose beauty and sweetness you cannot describe in words "I know you've avoiding me. No, no, it's ok; I know why you did it, and it's probably for the best, even though I have missed you..."

🏴‍☠️ You don't answer, quietly enjoying the peace and comfort Shanks' presence always brings you despite the heartbreak; there must be dozens of men on the ship around you, but you are alone in the tiny, sparsely furnished cabin, enjoying a fleeting, precious moment of intimacy. In the end you turn your face to meet Shanks' gaze, and you do not vocalize your feelings, but he understands them all the same, and a moment later your mouths meet in the sweetest, most intense kiss of your life. Shanks moans, his lips avidly caressing yours, and a moment later you are running your fingers through his hair, and you want him so much your heart is about to burst.

🏴‍☠️ When you finally part, five minutes later, neither of you is smiling. "I don't want to cause you pain." Shanks says, deadly serious; his hand is holding yours, his thumb caressing the back "We are meant to leave in three weeks..." "And you will; I will not beg you to stay, and I know that saying goodbye will be harrowing; but it'll be anyway, since I can't stop thinking about you." you admit with a sigh "I want to be with you, Shanks, be it for a day or a year; if, ehm, you want to be with me, and I know you are in pain, and obviously as a doctor I am not supposed to date my patients..."

🏴‍☠️ You are blabbering, as usual when you are nervous, but Shanks is quick to put an end to your speech kissing you soundly once more, holding you as if he never wants you to go. You lie down on the cot together, your legs entwined and your bodies pressing against each other, but after a while you are forced to stop and change position, because a moan of pain warns you your side was pressing agains the stump of his arm. "My poor darling, I am so sorry for what has happened to you." you murmur, but Shanks smiles, and gently kisses your forehead. "Luffy is safe and you are here next to me." he says "As far as I'm concerned, it was a small price to pay."

🏴‍☠️ You and Shanks are determined to make the most of the little time you have, so you are nearly inseparable for the next three weeks. You don't want to neglect your work, since your patients need you, but if you are not at your practice, you are with him. You sleep in his cabin (the cot is tiny, but squeezing together is not a problem for the two of you) make sure his wound is clean and neatly bandaged, and walk with him on your favourite beach, enjoying his quiet, solid presence next to you, his beautiful smile, and the way he has to circle your waist and lead you in a dance when you least expect it, making you laugh. Luffy reacts with disgust the first time he sees the two of you sharing a kiss, but he is happy for you, secretly thinking you and Shank deserve each other - and for the future young King of the Pirates there is no better compliment than this.

🏴‍☠️ Before you become intimate for the first time, Shanks asks you to make sure you don't get pregnant, and you comply, privately thinking you wouldn't mind having his baby, were it not unfair to both to keep father and child separated, quite the opposite, because a child with his smile and eyes would alleviate the solitude you know you will suffer once he will have left. You feed him food with your fork at the Partys, fall asleep lulled by his heartbeat, and sit next to him at the end of the wharf, your legs dangling and his arm around your shoulders as you look at the sun setting behind the horizon, and wish your time together would never end.

🏴‍☠️ It does, unfortunately, and on one clear, warm morning, Shanks and his crew prepare to leave the village. Luffy is inconsolable, even after Shanks gifts him his most precious possession, his straw hat, with the promise to ask for it back when the young boy has become a great pirate; you, on the other hand, feel pain and heartbreak beyond words and tears. The two of you have spent the whole night making love, with an intensity and an abandon you had never experienced before, and he looked as grief-stricken as you feel while he whispered his feelings in your ear and promised he would never forget you, but still, your heart is full of doubts and anguish while you walk to the harbour to say goodbye to the man who has, in true pirate fashion, stolen your heart. He lied about your affection to comfort you, an unpleasant voice whispers in your ear. He has a woman like you in every town and port his ship visits. He will forget your face in less than a month and in two he won't remember ever meeting you. Worst of all, he will die soon, battling another pirate crew or drowning, and you'll cry for him for the rest of your days...

🏴‍☠️ A few of the pirates you have gotten to know in the last months say goodbye to you and you wish them good luck, having gotten sincerely fond of those brave, freedom-hungry men who have chosen such a dangerous way of life and can face any enemy with a smile on their faces. In the end, you and Shanks find yourselves face to face, and "Please, do not cry; I am already desperate, your tears would kill me." he softly begs as the tips of his fingers caress your cheek, and you shake your head: you can't help being sad, you admit, but you knew this moment would come and do not regret being with him, even just for a few short days, and no matter what the future has in store, you will keep him in your heart forever. "Just promise me one thing: find a doctor for your crew, as soon as possible; I can't stand the idea of you and your men travelling without someone taking care of your health." you ask him, and for the first time since you met, you see Shanks hesitating. "I will, I promise; but..." "But?"

🏴‍☠️ "But, I was hoping I wouldn't need to look for a doctor; that you would join my crew and fill the spot. I... I know it would change your life, and I won't lie to you, it is a dangerous life, especially for a person who is not a trained fighter and even if we would all do everything we can to ensure your safety. We have known each other only for a few months, but it would make me the happiest man on the Sea if... oh, forget it, it was a stupid idea, how egotistical can I be asking you to leave everything you know and love for..." He is mumbling, and looking at him in that moment, unsure but hopeful, all your doubts and fears disappear like snow at the first light of spring; he cares about you, he really does, much more than simply because of the advantges your presence on the ship would provide the crew, but since he could never renounce his way of life to be with you, he feels unworthy of asking you to do the same. How could you ever doubt him?, you wonder while tears of happiness begin falling from your eyes... and how can you say no to him?

🏴‍☠️ "Oh, Shanks... nothing would make me happier; I'd leave in a minute if it meant being with you." you sincerely answer "But I can't. I am the only doctor in the village, and it would take months to request the capital to send another one here; I can't in all conscience leave my patients without anyone caring for their health. And there is Luffy; he needs me, at least for a few more years. Believe me, I... I am not simply looking for an excuse; I really want to be with you, but..." "I know." he interrupts you, and the reassurance about your feelings for him doesn't make your refusal easier to accept. "I know what sort of person you are, how much you care for the people of the village; I wouldn't expect any less from you." You sigh, wishing for a moment you could actually disavow your professional oath and forsake the people you have promised to take care of, and follow the man you love towards whatever fate awaits him. You are doing the right thing, professionally and towards a boy you love as if he were a child of your body, but the prospect of losing Shanks forever makes you feel as if you were renouncing a part of you...

🏴‍☠️ "You know, it... It doesn't have to be forever." you tentatively add wringing your hands, a moment after one of the men has called to Shanks to tell him they're ready to go "It will be a few years, but one day Luffy will be old enough to take care of himself, and in the meantime I could instruct a new doctor for the village or ask for one to be sent here. And then, once I'm no longer needed... I-I could come. To you. I mean, I wouldn't ask you to wait for me, if you... met someone else, or if simply your feelings changed..." "I will." Shanks immediately answers; he's looking at you as if no treasure he could ever find would compare "I'll wait for you, and you'll wait for me, and once Luffy no longer needs you, I'll come back for you. And from then on, no one and nothing will ever separate us."

🏴‍☠️ The promise is sealed with a kiss, that you and your lover share on the harbour in full view of the crew and the villagers, and there is no need to say you love each other, because a look of Shanks's warm eyes is enough to reassure you and he can read the same feelings in your gaze. A few minutes, and you are looking at the ship disappearing into the horizon with Luffy by your side, not bothering to hold back your tears while a stubborn, fierce hope fills your heart.

🏴‍☠️ Ten years pass, slowly, often excruciatingly so, but at least you can keep busy instead of spending days and nights crying over your lost love. You focus on your work, finding gratification and sincere joy in taking care of the people you grew up and live with, and helping them when they are sick or wounded; five years after you said good-bye to your lover, two girls who have just completed their studies at the village's school ask for permission to follow you in your work, and you gladly take them on as apprentices. You write to the libraries of the larger towns in the island, asking for books written by ship doctors or that would help you specialize for your future responsabilities as a member of Shanks' crew, and follow his adventures in the papers.

🏴‍☠️ The news of your and Shanks' promise has somehow spread to the village, and save for Luffy and a few of your friends, most of the people think you are wasting the best years of your life, and should have never believed in him. "He said that to make fun of you, or at least to comfort you and make you think he actually cared." they say "He's a pirate, (name), he must have a woman like you in every harbour. By now he has probably been with ten others." "Even if he actually cared, ten years is ages to spend waiting for someone! What if he dies in the meantime? And even if he returned, are you sure you want to live such a dangerous life?" "Don't you want to marry and raise a family? A pirate ship is no place for a child, and in ten years you'll be past marriageable age; there are many good men here in the village..."

🏴‍☠️ They mean well (most of them do, at least), but you don't listen, and while you miss Shanks more and more every day and sometimes even wish you had forgotten duties and responsibilities to follow your heart, because whatever length of time destiny will allow you to spend together you will have still wasted ten years, you never waver, sure in your heart you have made the right choice, and you don't care how naive and idealistic you would sound if you said it out loud, you know he's also thinking of you, saddened by the distance between you and nonetheless carrying on, knowing nothing and no one will stop you from being together once the time is right. The idea of becoming a pirate is both terrifying and exciting, and had you not met Shanks, you would have been happy to stay in Foosha forever, single or otherwise; but now you know he is your destiny, and you will share whatever future and dream he will pursue, because you know he will always be worthy of your devotion.

🏴‍☠️ On the other hand, you do miss him. Fiercely, desperately, a feeling which is hunger (why is his warm body not flushed against yours when you wake up? Where are the avid and sloppy kisses you had already become dependent on, and that now you cannot do without?) and jealousy (is another woman flirting with him in this very moment? Touching him, smiling at him, catching his attention even if just for a moment? And how can you discover her name and city or village of residence, to go and teach her not to touch what belongs to others?) and protectivity (what if something happens to him and you're not there to take care of him? Has he found a doctor like he had promised you?) all in one, that becomes a permanent presence inside you, from the moment you wake to when you go to sleep... and sometimes even longer. His smile, his kind and determined voice, the subtle energy and power his very figure emanated... you even miss his cold feet, and that affectionate but vaguely annoying way that he had to pull your hair to get your attention. Deep in your heart, you know he is also thinking about you, that he remembers his promise and is honoring it, no matter how difficult it might be; but however pleasant and productive your days are, no matter the joy you feel in being in the company of your friends and in successfully treating your patients, his absence is still a weight in your heart, a dull but persistent pain that before long becomes as familiar as the colour of your hair of the medical coat you wear at your practice. You have not stopped eating (that would be bad for your health!) and you are not going to wither away like the protagonist of a romantic novel whose sweetheart has deserted her, but you miss him, deeply and desperately, and every time your eyes fall on a red-haired head, your heart skips a beat...

🏴‍☠️ Luffy is, as you expected, the only one who fully believes in Shanks' promise to you, just like you trust the pact the captain and the child have made about Luffy's future and the straw hat; you never told him he, and his well-being, is one of the two main reasons why you elected to stay in Foosha, because a child doesn't deserve to feel guilty for the choices of an adult, but Luffy is much smarter and more perceptive than he is given credit for, and in the end it is you who, exactly ten years after saying goodbye to Shanks, he tells he is finally ready to leave the village to pursue his dream... and you need to do the same. "I know you have stayed here to look after me, (name); and I appreciate it a lot. But now I can take care of myself, and I'm leaving to find a crew and become King of the Pirates. You have to go too; don't you want to see him, after all these years? I'm sure he missed you a lot too; find him, become his doctor, and say hi for me."

🏴‍☠️ You do. After an heart-felt goodbye ("Don't lose the first-aid kit I gave you! And please, Luffy, I don't need you to remind you to eat, but don't get cold!") you prepare a small luggage and your doctor's bag, entrust your practice to your apprentices (who by now are more than up to the task, and who you know will take as good care of the villagers as you did), and your home's keys to Makino, and leave. Part of you still can't believe you are actually doing it, that you are leaving everything you knew and loved behind, the village you were born in and all your things at home, to pursue a life you are probably unprepared for and that could cost you your life, but you don't care, and whatever happens, you know you won't regret the choice you have made... the choice to follow your heart.

🏴‍☠️ The only, but not negligible, difficulty you have to face is that you have absolutely no idea where Shanks is. Your deal was that he would come back to get you in Foosha once Luffy no longer needed you, but since you have no way to contact him, you can't ask him to meet; the most reasonable choice would be to wait for your young friend to make a name for himsef, either earning a bounty of fighting the Marines, so that news of him having left the village and become a pirate would reach Shanks, who would then know it is time to make good on his promise, but not knowing how long it would take, and determined not to waste any more time, you decide to take the matter in your own hands and go to Shanks yourself... even though you have no idea how, and where to find him. According to a by now weeks old newspaper article you had read, your lover has been seen in a certain island across the East Sea, so you buy a ticket to reach it, hoping to still find him there, or at least that he had left word of where he would head next.

🏴‍☠️ Ten days of navigation later, the ship has to make a stop along the way to resupply; you are walking down the dock as you wait for the captain to call the passengers back on board, trembling with excitation and hoping you and your lover will soon be reunited, when your eyes casually fall on a man walking down the pier, unhurriedly but with the sort of determination that leads anyone who crosses his path to give way. You have never met him, but your lover has told you about him, and you would have recognized him in any case, because Dracule Mihawk, the greatest swordman in the world, is not the kind of man you can mistake for someone else... if only for the enormous sword, as long as he is tall, hanging from his shoulders. Normally you would have no reason to approach him, not last because Mihawk doesn't seem the sort of man who tolerates being bothered without a good reason, but Shanks has told you the two of them know each other of old and are, if not exactly friends, at least good acquaintances; could the swordsman know where your lover is? Could he tell you, if you tell him you are also a friend of Shanks and he is supposed to meet you anyway?

🏴‍☠️ To approach him requires all your courage, since Mihawk, while perhaps not unnecessarily violent like some other pirates, is the most intimidating person you have ever met; but finding Shanks is more important than anything else in the world, and if you are to become part of the crew of an important pirate like your lover, you need to find your courage and learn to face danger with your head held high. So you reach him, and ask him if he knows where your lover is. "I mean him no ill will; actually... we are also good friends. I... I come from Foosha Village, my name is (name)..." you begin, stammering under the piercing gaze of the swordsman when suddenly he interrupts you. "You are the doctor, I gather. The one who remained at the village to care for the boy who had eaten the Devil Fruit." "Y-yes! It is me!" you exclaim, surprised and immediately flattered; Shanks has told him about you! "We had agreed to meet once Luffy had... well, I am looking for him now, and I am heading to the island where he was last seen but since you have known him for a long time, I thought that perhaps you know where he is..."

🏴‍☠️ Mihawk, apparently indifferent to your blabbering (he's probably used to people being nervous in his presence, and how could they not?) points out he is not Shanks' father nor a member of his crew, and as a consequence he is not in the habit of keeping an eye on his movements. "But coincidentally, I know where he is; in fact, I had in mind to meet him myself." he adds, before mentioning a semi-deserted island much closer to where you are than the one your ship is heading to "If you leave now, you can reach him before nightfall." It is the best news you have ever received, and you thank the swordsman profusely, forgetting for a moment how intimidated you are by his very presence. Mihawk simply nods, and then offers you a folded piece of paper. "If you meet Shanks, will you give him this for me? I think you know the person it concerns." he asks, and your eyes open wide as you open the bounty poster... Luffy's bounty poster! You haven't had access to newspapers during your journey, but it seems that in the few short weeks since he left the village your young friend has already made a name for himself, earning the attention of the Marines and, as a consequence, a remarkable bounty; you wouldn't have expected anything less from him, you think, your heart full of pride and happiness. "I thought Shanks would appreciate seeing it, given his interest in the boy." Mihawk points out "Will you give it to him, when you meet him?"

🏴‍☠️ Of course you promise, happy to save Mihawk the effort of going himself after the precious informations he gave you. Your heart pounding, you are quick to go back to the ship about to depart, retrieve your belongings and run, quickly telling the captain you have changed your mind and won't be continuing your trip with them. The smaller island you have to reach is very close but, you discover after asking around, there are no regular vessels that reach it, given that it is almost uninhabited (which is probably why Shanks and his men have chosen it as their base) but you are able to find a fisherman willing to get you there. And so, soon after dark, you finally lay foot on the same ground your lover is walking on, closer than you have ever been in ten long years...

🏴‍☠️ ... and you are immediately surrounded, a number of heavily armed pirates pointing their weapons at you, ready to shoot at the first sign of danger. "Don't, please! I mean you no harm, I am a friend!" you hurry to explain, recognizing a few of the pirates who were already in Shanks' crew when you first met and hoping they also remember you "I am (name), the doctor of Foosha village. Many of you were sick with red fever and I was able to help you, remember? I need to speak with Shanks, he's waiting for me... sort of..." Fortunately it works, and many of the pirates you had met ten years ago welcome you as a friend, still remembering what you had done for them, and lead you to their beach camp, where Shanks and the others are resting after an impromptu party.

🏴‍☠️ Ten years have passed, and still it takes you less than a moment to recognize the man sprawled in a hammock, even before the red hair and the lack of his left arm are visible; the handle of your bag slips from your fingers and falls on the sand. You must look horrible, you suddenly realize, tired after a long day of travel and with your hair tussled by the wind, and this is the sort of situation you would like to look your best for, but you don't care, you care about nothing in the world but the man in front of you, still lost in his hangover dreams.

🏴‍☠️ "Shanks." you murmur, theoretically too low for him to hear, but he does, even before his men can wake him up and tell him he has a visitor. He lifts his head, gingerly standing from the hammock, and in the darkness descending on the beach, he sees you, and for a full minute that's all he seems able to do, looking as if he can't believe his own eyes. "... (name?)" "H-hi." you stammer, suddenly shy and even scared; you have trusted him, and the bond between you, for ten years, confiding that what you shared could resist the test of time and that your lover would keep you in his heart like you have kept him in yours, but suddenly, now that the moment of truth has finally come, all your certainties seem to desert you. What if the people at the village were right, and you have wasted ten years of your life for a naive, romantic dream? What if Shanks has forgotten the promise you two shared? Even worse, what if he has decided to renounce it after time and distance ended up attenuating his feelings for you? You could go back to Foosha and resume your old life as village doctor, a good and productive life, but you know you will never survive the disappointment... "It's... it's good to see you. I came, ehm, I don't know if you remember what we had agreed to do once Luffy..."

🏴‍☠️ "You are here." Shanks murmurs, as if thinking out loud; suddenly sober, he stands and walks up to you, still disbelieving and at the same time delighted beyond words "I can't... you came. You actually came." "Yes, I did. I know we had agreed you would return to the village, but I have trained two new doctors, and Luffy has left to become a pirate, and you wouldn't believe it, he has already..." He stops you, not in words but with a hug; Shanks' arm has circled your waist, pressing your body against his, and it is all so familiar, from his scent to his touch to the sound of his voice, that suddenly you can't control yourself anymore, and you start crying, out of joy, out of relief, out of the simple and visceral pleasure of being with him, once more, with your captain, your lover, your Shanks. "I have missed you so much." you murmur, and his delighted laugh is music to your ears; Shanks presses his forehead against yours, still holding you close, while his crew rejoices all around.

🏴‍☠️ You walk together on the beach for a while, away from the camp, silently enjoying each other's company, until Shanks asks you about Luffy, who must have left the village since you did too, and you show him the bounty poster, that your lover observes with delighted pride. "I can't believe you asked Mihawk for directions..." "Well, I am not saying I wasn't trembling with fear, but I wanted to find you, no matter what. I... I have never stopped thinking about you, you know? And please, tell me you haven't spent ten years journeying through the Seas without a doctor." Shanks smiles, and explains that they actually found a doctor soon after departing Foosha, a capable man who took good care of the crew for ten years... and who just two weeks ago decided to leave, having met a special someone on an island they had docked at, leaving the position vacant. "I let him go, because I have never forced anyone to be part of my crew, but I had no idea you would come... Curious, isn't it? As if destiny had decided it was time for us to meet again, as we had promised."

🏴‍☠️ You shrug, mostly uninterested in assigning responsibility: whether it was destiny, or simple coincidence, you are together once again, not because of a concatenation of events but as a result of your own choices. You did what you thought was right, and now you are free, and determined, to follow your heart. "I came to join your crew, as you had asked me to do ten years ago." you tell Shanks, turning to face him; those words do not need to be said, but you want him to hear... to know that for a whole decade, you have never let him go in your heart "To be your doctor, and your lover, if you'll be mine. What do you say?" Shanks doesn't immediately answer; his hand touches your cheek, gingerly, as if he feared you were just a mirage about to disappear if he only looked too closely. "How beautiful you are." he murmurs "My (name)... ten years ago, I told you meeting you was a blessing from the Gods; I didn't know how right I was. I have never stopped thinking about you; I was sure Luffy would leave the village soon, since he is almost a grown man, and I was ready to come to you as soon as I was certain he didn't need you anymore. But now you're here, and I'm never letting you out of my sight."

🏴‍☠️ It is a promise and a declaration in one, nothing less than what you expected and the only thing you would have accepted. Shanks' hand finds yours; the night enveloping the beach hides a kiss that tastes like homecoming and cheap rhum, your lover's body welcoming you in the warmth and security of his embrace. From now on, your life together begins; from now on, you're part of the Red-Haired Pirate crew.