spideysl0ve

[spideysl0ve]

held my own weight

park gyeong-seok x f!reader

synopsis: the worst moment in your life brings you a gift

warnings: stepmother!reader. adoptivemother!reader. adoptivefather!gyeong-seok

SPOILERS FOR SQUID GAME SEASON THREE BELOW -> DON'T CLICK 'KEEP READING' IF YOU DO NOT WANT SPOILERS!

gi-hun pushed himself backwards, falling to his death a hundred feet below.

your eyes are wide, not believing the sacrifice that this man made for the baby.

the baby didn't have a mother, and needed one. everyone knew since junhee died, that you were the babygirl's only hope at having a good life if you survived.

you stumble out of the elevator which took you away from the sky squid games, clutching the tiny, squirming baby in your arms.

the infant's soft whimpers pierce the heavy silence that wraps around you like a cloud. the weight of her small body feels like the only thing keeping you pulled to the earth.

your heart is a fractured thing, splintered by the losses that pile up behind you.

junhee, the babies' father player 333, and gyeong-seok, your gyeong-seok, whose name still burns on your tongue.

you thought you’d lost him in the rebellion, that chaotic blur of screams and blood a few days ago. the heart inside of your chest aches for his comfort.

the memory of his face, his warm hands, his quiet strength, haunts you as you step into the blinding light of the outside world.

the baby, daughter of 222 and 333, clings to you, her tiny fingers curling into your shirt.

you��re all she has now, and the weight of that responsibility presses down on your chest, making it hard to breathe.

the prize money is yours...or rather, yours and hers.

they call it a “split,” but you know better.

every cent of her share will go to her future: diapers, formula, clothes, a savings account for when she’s older.

you’ll make sure she’s cared for, even if it means using your own share of the 45.6 billion won.

you can’t think about the money now, though, not when your heart is still raw, torn open by the thought of na-yeon, gyeong-seok’s little girl, waiting for you in the hospital.

she’s sick, her fragile body fighting a battle no child should have to face.

you’ve been her stepmother for only a short time, but the love you have for her is undeniable.

how will you tell her about her father?

how will you explain that you survived when he didn’t?

the hospital is a blur of white walls and antiseptic smells when you arrive.

your arms ache from holding the baby, but you don’t dare let her go.

she’s asleep now, her tiny chest rising and falling against your own. you navigate the sterile corridors, your worn shoes squeaking against the polished floor.

na-yeon’s room is at the end of the hall, and you brace yourself as you push open the door, expecting to see her small form alone in the bed, her eyes searching for a father who’ll never come back.

fortunately, he’s there.

gyeong-seok is there, sitting beside na-yeon’s bed, his broad shoulders hunched as he holds her tiny hand.

the man's dark hair falls over his eyes, and he looks tired, so tired, but alive.

your breath catches, a sob clawing its way up your throat.

you thought he was gone.

you thought the rebellion had taken him, that the games had stolen him like they stole so many others. here he is, real, his gaze lifting to meet yours. his eyes widen, and for a moment, the world stops.

the baby stirs in your arms, and you clutch her tighter, tears spilling down your cheeks.

“y/n,” he whispers, his voice breaking.

he stands, crossing the room in two strides, and then his arms are around you, pulling you close. you sink into him, your face pressed against his chest, the familiar scent of him...paint and cedar and something uniquely gyeong-seok...flooding your senses.

you thought you’d never feel this again, never know the warmth of him, the steady beat of his heart.

he’s alive.

he’s here.

na-yeon watches from the bed, her eyes bright despite the paleness of her skin, her newly transplanted bone marrow giving her a fragile kind of hope.

“i thought you were dead,” you choke out, your voice muffled against his shirt, “the guards said you were eliminated and i thought—”

“i know,” he murmurs, his hand cradling the back of your head, “i thought the same about you.”

gyeong-seok's voice is thick with emotion. when he pulls back, his eyes are wet. they land on the baby in your arms, and his expression shifts...grief, understanding, and something softer, something resolute.

he doesn’t need to ask. he knows.

“222?” he says quietly, and you nod, your throat too tight to speak.

“also 333's daughter,” you manage, your voice barely a whisper.

you felt the need to honor him too somehow, even though he nearly killed you and the baby during the last round of the last game.

gyeong-seok's jaw tightens, and he reaches out, brushing a gentle finger across the baby’s cheek.

“she’s ours now,” you say.

the words are a vow, “I promised junhee.”

gyeong-seok’s eyes meet yours, and there’s no hesitation in them.

“we’ll raise her,” he says, his voice steady despite the tears that threaten to spill.

“together. you, me, na-yeon, and her.” he glances at his daughter, who’s watching you both with tired, yet curious eyes from her hospital bed.

the days that follow are a blur of adjustment.

you move into a small apartment, paid for with the prize money. it’s modest, but it’s yours, a sanctuary for your patchwork family.

na-yeon’s health improves slowly, her hair starting to grow back in soft, dark wisps.

she’s enchanted by her new little sister, whom you name ji-yeon, a name that feels like a promise of joy.

na-yeon spends hours sitting beside ji-yeon’s crib, singing soft lullabies or telling her stories about a world she’s only beginning to understand.

you watch them, your heart swelling and aching all at once. na-yeon’s laughter is a fragile, precious thing, and you’d do anything to keep it alive.

gyeong-seok is your rock, as he always has been.

he paints again, his fingers stained with color as he creates portraits and landscapes, pouring his grief and hope into every stroke. you find comfort in the routine of your new life: feeding ji-yeon, helping na-yeon with her schoolwork, curling up beside gyeong-seok at night, his arm draped over you as if to shield you from the memories of the games.

the pain still lingers andyou see it in the way gyeong-seok’s hands tremble sometimes, in the way na-yeon asks about the “bad place” you went to, in the way ji-yeon’s cries sometimes sound like a reminder of the parents she’ll never know.

one afternoon, you’re at the park with ji-yeon strapped to your chest in a carrier.

the babies' tiny head rests against you, her soft breaths a steady rhythm.

gyeong-seok is nearby, sketching a portrait for a woman who approached him earlier.

she’s around five years older than you, with kind eyes and a quiet demeanor, and she mentioned working with gyeong-seok at the park before.

the woman's name is no-eul, and there’s something familiar about her, something that tugs at the edges of your memory.

however, you can't place it.

she watches gyeong-seok work, her gaze occasionally drifting to na-yeon, who’s playing nearby, her laughter ringing out like a bell.

“she’s beautiful,” no-eul says, nodding toward na-yeon, “she looks so much healthier now.”

you smile, your heart swelling with pride.

“she’s a fighter,” you say, adjusting ji-yeon in her carrier, “like her father.”

you glance at gyeong-seok, who’s focused on his sketch, his brow furrowed in concentration.

no-eul’s eyes soften, and you sense a story there, a connection to your family that she hasn’t shared.

you take a chance, your voice gentle.

“would you like to grab some tea with me sometime? it’d be nice to talk. maybe… make a friend.”

no-eul’s expression flickers, a mix of surprise and something like gratitude. she shakes her head, but there’s a warmth in her refusal.

“no, thank you,” she says softly, “but I appreciate the offer.”

the woman's gaze drifts to ji-yeon, and for a moment, you see a flicker of longing in her eyes, as if she’s remembering something or someone lost to her.

when no-eul leaves, without letting gyeong-seok finish her sketch, you look at gyeong-seok, his eyes soft as they meet yours.

you know he feels it too.

the happiness of the fragile, beautiful hope of a life rebuilt.

ji-yeon’s tiny hand brushes against your finger, and na-yeon’s laughter fills the air as she eats her candy.

for the first time in a long time, you feel whole again.

masterlist

[spideysl0ve]

hiii!

i know, surprisingly i'm still alive ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

i'm finishing some big studying projects rn and that's also why i've been so inactive lately, thankfully i am finishing the 6th of this month meaning i will get to write again! (๑>◡<๑)

i'm really really sorry for taking this long in saying anything and also for the requests i still haven't fulfilled, i will be publishing them soon! (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

thank you for your patience and see ya soon ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

-spidey

[spideysl0ve]

For Her - Lando Norris x Reader

summary: She came to support him. Instead, she was met with hate and a paddock full of people who acted like she didn’t exist. But if there was one thing about Lando Norris, it was that he loved out loud (3.2k words)

content: protective boyfriend, public relationship, public displays of affection, romantic grand gesture

AN: happy new season guys!!! what a race, I hope china will be kinder with my heart :') here's another fic for our race winner! muah <3

........................................................................

The first race of the season should have been magical.

It should have been the kind of morning you’d always imagined—walking through the paddock with the giddy excitement of someone witnessing greatness up close, feeling the electricity in the air, the intoxicating mix of tire smoke, adrenaline, and champagne already waiting for its moment in the podium spray. You had thought of how proud you would feel watching Lando, how thrilling it would be to see him in his element, how belonging you might feel in a world that, until now, had existed for you in stories and through screens.

You had not imagined being denied entry.

"Miss, I’m going to have to ask you to step back."

The security guard barely spared you a glance, already moving on to the next person in line, his voice impassive, as if he had done this a hundred times before and you were simply another face in a sea of hopeful girls who had tried to talk their way into the paddock.

You gripped your lanyard a little tighter, your heart skipping slightly. "I have a pass," you said, voice gentle but firm as you lifted it to eye level, the McLaren logo glinting in the sunlight.

The guard exhaled sharply through his nose, unimpressed. "We've had a lot of fans trying to sneak in today. If you don’t have the right accreditation, I can’t let you through."

Your stomach twisted.

"I do have the right accreditation," you tried again, as kindly as possible, despite the heat creeping up your neck. "I’m with McLaren. My boyfriend-"

"Yeah, that’s what they all say."

The words were clipped, dismissive, and spoken with the kind of flat finality that suggested he had already decided you were lying.

Embarrassment coiled in your chest, wrapping itself around your lungs, making it suddenly difficult to breathe.

You stood there, cheeks burning, as people brushed past you, throwing curious glances your way. The seconds stretched endlessly, each one more excruciating than the last.

It wasn’t until a McLaren staff member recognized you—"Oh, she’s with Lando," they had said offhandedly—that the security guard finally stepped aside, not bothering with so much as an apology.

By the time you walked through the gates, the joy you had carried that morning had dulled into something smaller, something fragile.

And then, somehow, it got worse.

...

The McLaren motorhome stood like a beacon in the paddock, its sleek glass windows reflecting the bustle of team personnel moving inside. You exhaled slowly, shaking off the earlier embarrassment, and made your way toward the hospitality lounge, longing for something warm and familiar.

A latte, perhaps. Something to reset the day.

You stepped up to the hospitality counter with a practiced sort of grace, the kind that had been instilled in you from your childhood—shoulders back, chin lifted, a polite smile even when you wanted to disappear.

The woman behind the counter was stunning in a sharp, effortless way, her McLaren uniform crisp, her dark eyes shrewd, assessing. She barely looked up when you stepped forward.

"Good morning," you greeted, your voice light, pleasant. "Could I get an oat latte, please?"

The woman’s gaze flicked to you then, sweeping over you in a way that wasn’t unkind but wasn’t exactly warm, either.

"Are you with media?" she asked, already sounding bored.

You shook your head, still polite. "No, I’m—"

"Hospitality is for team guests only," she interrupted, her words clipped, a polite but unmistakable dismissal.

There was something about the way she said it, the way her lips curled just slightly, that sent something sharp down your spine.

You held up your accreditation again, your expression kind but unwavering. "I am a team guest. It is my first race though! I'm with Lando."

A pause. A flicker of something in her gaze.

And then, a small, almost imperceptible smirk.

"Ah," she said slowly, like she was only just now realizing. "Of course you are."

There was something else behind her tone, something you recognized.

You had met people like her before, in glittering lobbies, at perfectly curated events, in spaces where perception was everything. People who measured others in careful glances and quiet, ruthless judgments.

The woman tilted her head, her smile suddenly saccharine. "I’m afraid we’re only serving certain guests at the moment."

The words landed with the soft cruelty of a velvet dagger.

She wasn’t saying no outright.

She was refusing you while pretending it was about something else entirely.

You stared at her for a moment, your fingers tightening slightly over the strap of your bag.

You could have fought. Could have pointed out that this was ridiculous, that you had every right to be here, that her behavior was as transparent as it was petty.

But instead, you simply let out a soft breath and smiled.

Not the kind of smile that was warm and grateful.

The kind of smile that veiled the frustration you were feeling.

"No worries," you said gently, dipping your head, your voice smooth, graceful. "I wouldn’t want to trouble you."

And with that, you turned and walked away, back straight, head held high, because if nothing else—you were not the kind of woman who begged.

But it still stung.

...

The hotel room is quiet except for the faint murmur of the city outside. The occasional car hums past beneath the window, the distant noises of Melbourne nightlife drifting in through the small gap in the balcony door. Inside, the glow from the bedside lamp casts soft golden light over the pristine sheets, the half-finished cup of tea you abandoned hours ago, and your phone—face-down, untouched, deliberately ignored.

You had set it aside like it burned you.

And in a way, it had.

You don’t need to look at the screen to know what’s waiting for you there.

A photo. You, walking alone through the paddock, caught at an unflattering angle—your hands adjusting the strap of your bag, your gaze flicking off to the side. Out of context, impersonal, just another frame in someone else’s story.

But the caption beneath it?

That made it personal.

The caption beneath it, however, was anything but subtle.

"Classic gold digger. No personality, no job, just another wag looking for a paycheck."

The replies were worse.

"She looks so full of herself. I bet she spends his money like crazy."

"Lando deserves better. She looks disgusting."

"Does she even like racing or just his wallet?"

You had expected something like this eventually. Being seen always came at a cost.

But expectation doesn’t soften the blow.

It doesn’t make the words less sharp. It doesn’t stop them from settling in the quiet places of your mind, the ones that whisper in the dark when the world is still.

You exhale slowly, smoothing your hand over the sheets, willing away the tightness in your throat.

It’s fine.

You were raised to handle things like this with grace, with an understanding that women who stand beside successful men are often reduced to spectators, accessories, footnotes in their own stories.

You know who you are. You know your worth.

And yet, knowing doesn’t stop the sting.

A keycard beeps at the door.

Then, the soft sound of it swinging open, of footsteps—light, easy, carrying a kind of restless energy even now.

"Hi, darling," Lando’s voice fills the space before he does.

You don’t turn immediately, letting yourself blink once, twice, composing yourself in the quiet before offering a small smile as he steps inside.

He looks effortlessly disheveled—his hair still damp from the rain outside, his McLaren polo slightly untucked, the fabric creased like he’d run a hand over it one too many times.

He is still buzzing—from the high of the weekend, from the thrill of being back in the car, from the sheer joy of doing what he loves.

And then he looks at you.

And everything shifts.

His grin falters. His brows pull together.

"Hey," he says again, but softer this time, slower. "What’s wrong?"

You hesitate, fingers brushing against the sheets. "It’s nothing."

Lando stills.

"You’re upset."

It’s not a question.

You exhale, tilting your head slightly, lips curving in something almost amused. "No big deal, this is your weekend."

But Lando doesn’t smile.

Instead, he moves—crossing the room in three long strides, sinking down in front of you, his hands warm against your thighs, his gaze level, intent.

"Tell me," he says, quiet but firm.

All day, you have been ignored, dismissed, treated like an inconvenience. And yet, here he is, giving you his undivided attention, his entire world narrowing down to this moment, to you.

You hesitate. Then, finally, you murmur, "People weren’t exactly kind today."

His grip on your legs tightens just slightly.

"Security thought I was a fan trying to sneak in. Hospitality wouldn’t serve me." You let out a small, humorless laugh, shaking your head. "And now there’s a photo of me online. People saying I’m a disgusting gold digger."

Lando doesn’t move.

Doesn’t even breathe.

Then, slowly, he reaches for your phone, flipping it over with careful precision before scrolling. He doesn’t need you to guide him—he finds it immediately.

His jaw tightens.

And then, in a tone so low and steady that it makes your stomach flip:

"Are you joking?"

You open your mouth, but he’s already shaking his head, pushing himself up, pacing now, running a hand through his curls.

"Such bullshit," he starts, turning sharply, voice too controlled, too even, "that after everything—after how much effort you’ve put into being here, after how much of your life you’ve adjusted for me—these people had the nerve to treat you like that?"

You shift under his gaze, biting your lip. "Lando, it’s not—"

"No, no, hold on," he interrupts, hands in the air like he needs a second to process. He lets out a short, disbelieving laugh, but there’s nothing amused about it.

"Because from where I’m standing, you’re the easiest person to love in any room, and I genuinely don’t understand how anyone could be that dense."

He exhales sharply, shaking his head, jaw tight. "Honestly, I don’t even know whether to be pissed or impressed by their level of dickheadness."

He stops, inhales sharply, then turns back to you.

"Tomorrow," he says, voice steady now, decisive. "We fix this."

You raise a brow. "We?"

Lando tilts his head, giving you a look like you have just asked if the sky is blue.

"Obviously."

...

There are very few things in life that can silence an entire paddock.

Lando Norris walking in hand-in-hand with you is apparently one of them.

The usual morning commotion—the hurried strides of engineers, the murmured strategy discussions, the distant hum of espresso machines—all of it seems to slow, the air shifting as one by one, heads turn.

Eyes follow you as you move through the paddock, curiosity crackling in the air like static before a storm.Conversations taper off, whispers trailing in your wake, phones discreetly lifted, cameras capturing the moment in real time.

Lando, of course, is unbothered.

If anything, he thrives under the weight of their attention. His grip on your hand remains firm, steady, unwavering, his strides unhurried, his smirk bordering on self-satisfied.

He wants them to see.

It’s deliberate—the way he holds you close, the way his fingers brush over yours in soft, thoughtless patterns, the way his head tilts toward you slightly every time you speak, like you are the only thing worth listening to.

There is no question about what this is.

There is no question about where you belong.

He makes sure of it.

And then, with perfect, almost cinematic timing, he steers you toward McLaren hospitality.

Right to the coffee bar.

The barista from yesterday stands behind the counter, the same sharp-cut uniform, the same perfectly applied lipstick, the same calculating gaze.

Only now, it falters.

She sees Lando before she sees you, her posture straightening, professional mask slipping into place like second nature. But then, her eyes flick toward you—toward your hands intertwined, toward the subtle, unspoken intimacy of the way he keeps close.

You watch as realization dawns.

Oh.

Lando leans against the counter, effortless, grinning.

"Two oat lattes," he says, voice bright, easy, amused. "One for me, one for my girl."

The silence that follows is exquisite.

The barista hesitates—just for a fraction of a second, just long enough for you to see it.

Panic.

"Of course," she says, voice smooth but not quite as sharp as before.

And just like that, there are no shortages, no waiting, no excuses.

The coffees are made within seconds.

Lando watches, humming thoughtfully, tapping his fingers lightly against the counter as she slides the first cup toward him. He lifts it to his lips, taking a slow, exaggerated sip before letting out a long, obnoxiously satisfied hum.

"Mm," he muses, shifting his weight, sparing her a glance. "Tastes better today."

His smirk is dangerous.

"Must be the service."

The barista’s lips press together just slightly.

You take your coffee, cradling the cup in your hands, offering her a soft, serene smile.

"Thank you," you say lightly.

You watch as she winces.

And Lando, the ever-efficient instigator that he is, takes it one step further.

"You know," he muses, as if the thought has just occurred to him, "I think I should make this a tradition."

He turns to you then, eyes bright with mischief, voice just loud enough for the surrounding staff to hear.

"Morning coffee," he says smoothly. "Every race weekend. For the foreseeable future."

The barista looks like she wants to disappear.

You, on the other hand, can’t help but smile.

...

The checkered flag had waved, the roar of the crowd still vibrating through the air, but none of it mattered—not the celebrations, not the flashing cameras, not the McLaren team swarming the pit wall in victory.

Because the moment Lando climbed out of the car, eyes scanning the chaos, he found you.

And then—he ran.

Straight toward you, helmet discarded, race suit half-unzipped, curls a disheveled mess from the heat of the cockpit.

You barely have time to react before he collides into you, arms wrapping around your waist, lifting you off the ground like you weigh nothing.

You shriek—an actual, real shriek—as your feet leave the pavement, the entire world tilting as he spins you in circles,laughter spilling from his lips like he can’t contain it.

And then—he kisses you.

Right there, in front of thousands of fans, in front of cameras, reporters, his entire team.

Hard. Fierce. Like he’d won the race and you in the same breath.

The world erupts around you—cheering, chanting, Oscar groaning dramatically in the background.

"Oh my god. You two are disgusting."

None of it matters.

Because Lando is grinning against your lips, breathless, victorious, yours.

When he finally sets you back down, he doesn’t let go.

Doesn’t even try to.

Instead, he beams down at you, cheeks flushed, curls damp with sweat, voice all cocky, all Lando.

"So, did I impress you or what?"

You roll your eyes, fond and exasperated all at once. "Eh. You were alright."

He gasps. Actually gasps.

"You’re joking." He turns toward the cameras, mock-betrayed. "Did you guys hear that? I win a Grand Prix, and she says I’m ‘alright.’"

You bite your lip, pretending to consider. "You were pretty fast, I guess."

"Pretty fast?" he repeats, positively scandalized. "Babe. I am literally the fastest man in Australia right now."

You burst out laughing. "I was kind of rooting for Oscar."

Oscar, mid-drink of water behind you, chokes.

"Lies." Lando pulls you back in, forehead resting against yours, his voice dropping into something softer, something just for you.

"Say you’re proud of me."

You sigh dramatically. "I guess I’m—"

"Say it."

You grin, heart pounding. "Fine. I’m proud of you, Norris."

He hums, satisfied, smug, still absolutely glowing. "Thought so."

...

Lando was still riding the high when he got to the media pen, his race suit unzipped to his waist, curls damp with sweat, and that stupidly charming grin still plastered across his face.

It wasn’t just a ‘first win of the season’ grin.

It was a ‘my girlfriend is here, and I just won a whole-ass race for her’ grin.

The interviewer barely got a word in before Lando pointed directly at you, standing just off-camera.

"Her."

You blink. "Me?"

"Yeah, you!" He turns back to the cameras, nodding enthusiastically. "Let’s just get this straight—I did this for her. Like, entirely. One hundred percent. Full motivation. If she hadn’t shown up, I probably would’ve parked it in a gravel trap on lap ten."

The interviewer laughed. "So, you’re saying she’s your good luck charm?"

"Absolutely," Lando replied, dead serious. "I mean, have you seen her? Look at her."

The camera did not pan to you, thank god. The poor guy running the live feed probably had no idea what to do.

But Lando? Oh, he was just getting started.

"She walked into this paddock today looking like an actual goddess, completely unaware that she is, in fact, the sun incarnate, and people want me to talk about tire degradation? No. I want to talk about her."

The interviewer tried so hard to stay professional.

"You—uh, you had great pace today—"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Lando waved him off.

"Lando, I don’t think—"

"Listen, I need to emphasize something." Lando leaned in, tone conspiratorial. "Do you know how lucky I am? Not only is she breathtaking, but she’s also, like, annoyingly smart. Like, did you know she reads all the time? Real books.Not just memes and Twitter threads like me."

He gestured vaguely, suddenly overwhelmed by his own emotions.

"She doesn’t even realize how much people admire her. But I see it. I see everything. And I just think the world needs to start appreciating her at my level."

"That is… very sweet." The interviewer was visibly struggling to keep up.

"Just had to get that out there."

"Well, congratulations on the win, Lando," the interviewer finally managed, skimming over his list of unanswered questions he had prepared.

"Thank you." He nodded seriously, finally letting go of the mic. "And big thanks to the team, of course."

You rolled your eyes from behind the cameras, suppressing a smile.

...

The internet had seen many things, but no one was prepared for Lando Norris using his post-race interview as a full-blown love letter. 

"Lando’s race pace was great, but his girlfriend propaganda was even stronger."

"THE WAY HE JUST POINTED AT HER IMMEDIATELY I CAN’T."

"Lando Norris said ‘this win is for my girlfriend’ and proceeded to recite a romantic sonnet on live TV. My standards are ruined."

Later, as the two of you curled up in the hotel room, finally away from the cameras, Lando buried his face in your neck with a content sigh.

"You know," he murmured, voice sleepy, warm, full of love. "I really did win that for you."

You ran your fingers through his curls. "I know."

"I meant every word, too."

You smiled. "Don't you think it was a bit much?"

"I don't think it was nearly enough," he said, already half-asleep, grinning like he had never been happier.

[spideysl0ve]

When it hits 9 pm and I pull out this combo:

Ps: I have severe writers block. Help

[spideysl0ve]

I’m so glad I stumbled onto your blog! I was wondering if I could request a monster trio headcanon for one piece. I was wondering how would they react to having a s/o on the crew whose role was to be the scribe? She basically set out to sea in hopes of writing the greatest adventure story and she joined the straw hats and decided to write out all of their adventures and stories. How would they value the work she did to ensure the straw hats story would live on? Would they ask her to also write about their blossoming “love story?”

♡･ﾟ𓏸 Monster Trio x Scribe!Reader Headcanon𓏸･ﾟ♡

♡ Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, gn!reader (with romantic s/o dynamics) ♡ Warnings: Fluff, supportive bfs, romantic tension, praise for your writing, mentions of legacy/storytelling, love story references, emotional softness, no use of Y/N ♡ Notes: Thank you for the lovely request!! I had so much fun writing this—soft, dream-chasing Strawhat energy is my JAM. This is romantic-coded, but still soft and cozy! These boys adore you and want the world to remember it ~~

𓏸⋆｡˚☁️˚｡⋆𓏸

🍖Luffy

Luffy is beyond excited that someone is literally writing down his story

He lit up the first time you told him your dream

At first, he thought “scribe” just meant you liked books

When you explained your dream—telling the greatest adventure story ever so people stuck in small lives could feel free—something clicked

That’s what Gold Roger’s story did for him

He immediately declared that you were going to make people want to be pirates

He constantly interrupts your writing like “HEY! Did you write about the Sea King punch? What about when I kicked Crocodile’s butt?!”

He doesn’t always understand the full weight of what you’re doing, but he respects your dream because it’s yours

He takes it seriously because everyone supports his dream the same way

He’s very into the idea of his rise to Pirate King being written as a legendary tale

He wants people to read it and feel inspired, just like he did as a kid

He’s obsessed with your writing now—brings you snacks, peeks over your shoulder, and grins when he sees his name

He absolutely wants the love story included

Not because he’s super romantic—but because he thinks it’s cool and funny

“Make sure you write the part where I asked you out and you said yes really fast”

You did not say yes fast—he asked twice, but he swears he heard a yes the first time

He gets kind of serious when it comes to your place in his story

“You can put that part in too, right? That I love you? That we sail together?”

It’s not about the mushy stuff—it’s about you being part of the journey

“When I’m Pirate King, I want them to know you were there. You wrote it. That’s important.”

He says it so proudly—like he’s always known your name would be written in history beside his

♡｡ﾟ☁︎｡♡ﾟ

You're sprawled on the deck one evening, a gentle breeze stirring your pages. Luffy plops down beside you, upside down like a gremlin, head hanging over the edge of the bench.

“Whatcha writing?”

You smirk. “You.”

“Oooh!” He rolls over eagerly. “Read it to me!”

You hesitate for a second—because this part’s soft. It’s not about battles or meat or dreams. It’s… this:

“He laughs at the sky like it’s an old friend. He loves with the same wild heart he sails with—loud, boundless, impossible to hold. But if you’re lucky enough to be his, truly his, he makes you feel like you’ve already touched the sun.”

When you look up, Luffy’s staring at you wide-eyed. Then he beams—beams—like he’s never heard anything cooler in his life.

“That’s SO COOL!!! Write more! Write the part where I kissed you! And the part where I said I’d never leave you behind! That’s important too!”

He grabs your hand like it’s the anchor holding him to the ship.

“I want people to read that and want to fall in love on the sea.”

⚔️ Zoro

Zoro was confused at first—thought “scribe” was just a fancy word for someone who sat around reading books

Then he saw you scribbling after battle, muttering about footwork and blade arcs, and it clicked

He doesn't ask about your work directly but will silently glance over your shoulder now and then

Especially curious when he spots his name in the margins

One night, you were half-asleep at your desk, and he dropped off a sake cup with a quiet, “Don’t forget to write the part where I saved your ass”

The idea of a love story written about him makes him grumble

“Tch. What’s there to say? You like me. I like you. End of story.”

But later, you find your notes moved slightly and a new entry about Loguetown added—with perfect detail about how he looked at you when you were hurt

You didn’t write it—he did

Zoro doesn’t care about fame or legacy, but he cares because you care

You’ve caught him rereading entries about battles when he thinks you’re asleep

When he reads your writing about him—his resolve, his strength—he gets quiet

“That what you really see when you look at me?” he asked once

When you nodded, he didn’t say more, just trained harder that night

He pretends not to care about the romance stuff, but when you suggest keeping it private, he actually frowns

“Why wouldn’t you write it? It’s real, isn’t it?”

It’s not about the world knowing he’s in love—it’s about the world knowing you’re his

“Put it in the book. Make it clear.”

He won’t say ‘I love you’ out loud a hundred times—but he wants it written. Inked into history. Quiet. Permanent. True.

♡｡ﾟ☁︎｡♡ﾟ

You find Zoro in the crow’s nest, dozing shirtless with a bottle beside him. Classic. You don’t mean to wake him—you’re just scribbling quietly in the corner—but he cracks an eye open anyway.

“You stalking me?” he grumbles.

You don’t reply. Just keep writing.

“…What are you saying about me this time?”

You smirk faintly. “Want me to read it?”

He shrugs, but the way he leans in says yes.

“He walks like the world owes him nothing. Like pain is just something to cut through. But he’s the one who stands between you and the storm, every time. Even if it kills him. Especially if it kills him. He doesn’t say he loves you. He just stays.”

You glance up. His brows are drawn, mouth tight, jaw working like he’s chewing on glass.

“…Tch.” He looks away, then back at you. “You’re gonna make me sound like some damn tragic hero.”

You shrug. “You kind of are.”

He takes your hand wordlessly, callused fingers curling around your pen-stained ones. Doesn’t say anything else. But you catch him rereading the entry later when he thinks you’re asleep.

🍳Sanji

Sanji is your biggest supporter—like, aggressively supportive

Brings you snacks, checks your wrist when it cramps, makes you tea or coffee without even asking

Fawns over every line you write like you’re the author of his heart (which you kinda are)

“Mon amour, your words will immortalize us! Should I pose for the cover illustration? Shirtless, of course—unless you prefer mystery~”

He’s completely enchanted by your dream to tell stories—especially their story

It’s romantic, meaningful, and he thinks it’s the most beautiful thing in the world

Sometimes you catch him just… watching you while you write. Like the weight of it all hits him out of nowhere

“We’ll be gone someday,” he once said softly, cigarette glowing. “But your words won’t.”

He’s the most emotionally open about what your writing means

Will 100% beg you to read parts of it to him like a bedtime story

And when it comes to your love story? Oh he wants the whole thing

A novella-length subplot with kissing, longing glances, dramatic declarations—he’s all in

“Put in every moment,” he says one night, curled around you as you write

“Every glance, every word I said that made you blush, all of it.”

Not embarrassed at all—he wants the world to know how deeply he loved you

“I want people to read it and feel jealous,” he says with a crooked smile

“That they weren’t loved like I loved you.”

Flirty and ridiculous 80% of the time—“What are you saying about me now? Is it about my devastating charm? My noble soul?”

But that last 20%? Pure, sincere, overwhelming admiration

He knows you’re creating legacy—and he’s honored to be part of it

♡｡ﾟ☁︎｡♡ﾟ

Sanji catches you writing at the galley table, nibbling the end of your pen. You don’t even notice he’s there until he’s sliding a plate beside you.

“For the brilliant mind behind our legend,” he purrs.

You roll your eyes. “You wanna hear the part I wrote about you?”

He leans in immediately, chin propped on one hand. “More than I want air.”

You clear your throat, a little bashful now.

“He’s fire, but not just the kind that burns. He’s warmth, too. He’s the hand that feeds, the eyes that linger, the voice that sings when he thinks no one hears. He loves like he’s starved for it—like he wants to feed it back to you in spoonfuls until you’re full. And you’ll never convince him he deserves the same in return.”

Silence.

When you glance up, Sanji looks like he’s been slapped by Cupid and set on fire.

“…Mon dieu.”

His voice is thick. He presses a kiss to your wrist. Then your knuckles. Then your palm.

“You better publish that. I want the whole world to know exactly how ruined I am for you.”

𓏸⋆｡˚☁️˚｡⋆𓏸

[spideysl0ve]

݁ . 𔘓 ؛ our future

⇢ masterlist

⇢ series masterlist

⇢ akagami no shanks x bartender!reader.

⇢ tw: english isn’t my first language.

⇢ summary: epilogue

years had passed since the birth of their son, and now, the young boy who had once clung to his father’s coat was a strong, confident teenager named kai.

 life aboard the red force had settled into a new rhythm. it wasn’t always quiet, with battles and adventures around every corner, but it was full of laughter, warmth, and a sense of camaraderie. 

kai had grown up surrounded by the crew, who treated him like family. he had inherited shanks' fiery spirit and y/n’s caring nature, a perfect blend of the two. 

now, kai was beginning to carve out his own path, learning the ways of a pirate, but always with the love and protection of his parents and their loyal crew.

it was a victory celebration that night, following another successful skirmish with a rival crew. the mood on the red force was light, the crew laughing and enjoying themselves, the sound of music drifting through the air as they toasted to another battle won. 

kai, standing proudly beside his father, watched the crew with a sense of admiration. shanks had always been his role model, the man who inspired him to chase after his own dreams. 

it was clear that kai had inherited not only his father’s courage but his leadership skills as well. 

y/n, ever the supportive mother, watched from a distance with a soft smile, her heart swelling with pride as she saw her son growing into a young man capable of standing alongside the red-haired pirates.

the celebration was in full swing, with the crew sharing stories of their adventures and battles, when a sudden presence cut through the jubilant atmosphere. a shadow appeared on the horizon, a figure that seemed to almost glide above the water, his silhouette unmistakable. 

mihawk, the world’s greatest swordsman, landed gracefully on the deck, his black sword gleaming under the moonlight.

 the moment he stepped off his sword, the mood shifted.

serious, focused eyes turned to the legendary swordsman as he approached shanks and the crew. without a word, mihawk reached into his coat and pulled out a wanted poster, tossing it onto the table in front of them.

“you might want to see this,” mihawk said with an amused smirk, his voice carrying a hint of something like respect. 

the crew leaned in, intrigued, as the poster fluttered to a stop. the image of a young man with a familiar, carefree grin stared back at them.

 it was luffy, the boy who had once sailed with shanks, and now, his bounty was visible for all to see. 

the amount written on the poster was staggering, a sum none of them had expected. kai’s eyes widened, his jaw dropping slightly in disbelief.

 the bounty on luffy’s head was beyond anything they had imagined, a reflection of how far his influence had reached across the seas. it was the first of many steps toward becoming a true pirate king.

shanks studied the bounty for a moment, his gaze softening as he looked at his old friend’s face on the poster. memories of their time together flashed through his mind.

luffy’s stubbornness, his dreams, and their many adventures. “he really did it,” shanks muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else. 

kai, who had grown up hearing stories of his father and luffy’s bond, looked at shanks, his expression one of pride and admiration. 

"he really made a name for himself, huh?" kai asked, his voice filled with respect for the man whose bounty had just skyrocketed.

“he always did,” shanks replied, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

 "luffy’s never been one to follow the rules, and now the world knows it. but that’s what makes him so special." y/n spoke now, kai nodded thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving the poster. 

it was clear that, just like his parents had once done, he too admired luffy’s drive and spirit. 

shanks placed a hand on kai’s shoulder, his expression becoming serious for a moment. “one day, you’ll be just like him, making your own name in the world, forging your path.”

the crew erupted into cheers, raising their glasses high in the air, celebrating not only the victory of the day but the legacy of the man who had once been a part of their lives.

 shanks couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride as he looked at his son. the journey had come full circle.

his old friend’s dreams were being realized, and now, he had his own family to guide, his own son to teach.

 the world was changing, and in his heart, shanks knew it was time for the next generation to rise.

as the cheers died down, shanks looked at kai and to his y/n, his eyes gleaming with pride. 

“looks like you’ve got some big shoes to fill, kid,” he joked, a playful glint in his eyes.

kai grinned, the same spark of determination that shanks had once seen in luffy flickering in his own gaze.

“i’m ready,” he said, his voice firm with the confidence that only a son could inherit from his father.

the future had started.

kai’s future, the future of the pirate world that was shifting before their very eyes. 

luffy’s bounty was only the beginning, and there were still oceans to sail and adventures to be had. 

with his family and crew by his side, shanks was ready to face whatever the future brought.

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݁ . 𔘓 ؛ settling seas

⇢ masterlist

⇢ series masterlist

⇢ akagami no shanks x bartender!reader.

⇢ tw: pregnancy, long, really long, english isn’t my first language.

⇢ summary: y/n moves to the to the red force.

in the first month y/n’s first few days aboard the red force were an adjustment, but with shanks by her side, it didn’t take long to feel at home. 

the crew, already a family, was quick to welcome her aboard, though they couldn’t quite hide their curiosity about the pregnancy. 

shanks was especially protective, always checking in to make sure y/n was comfortable.

lucky roo made sure there was always an extra plate of food for her, often teasing that the baby would probably have a love for food like the rest of the crew. 

beckman and yasopp kept their distance at first, respecting her privacy, but soon they were joining in on lighthearted conversations about the future.

 johnny and yosaku, the young ones, were excited to have a new little crewmate, often asking questions about the baby, despite their somewhat awkward delivery.

as y/n began adjusting to life on the ship, shanks would steal moments with her, walking on the deck together in the evenings or just sitting quietly in her quarters. 

the sea had always been a place of freedom for him, but now, with y/n by his side and a child on the way, he found himself thinking about the future in ways he hadn’t before.

in the second month, y/n felt the early signs of pregnancy more intensely. 

some days, she had to rest longer, but shanks was always there, offering a hand or support. the crew seemed to rally around her, offering whatever help they could. lucky roo often brought her food that would help her feel better, while beckman, though reserved, shared wisdom about handling the more challenging parts of pregnancy.

the ship’s daily routines continued, and y/n found herself adjusting to life aboard the red force. she’d often sit with yasopp or johnny, hearing stories of the crew’s past adventures. 

although she couldn’t be as active as she used to be, she enjoyed being part of the family.

shanks would sometimes come to her quarters, sit with her for hours, talking about everything and nothing. 

those moments felt precious, a quiet time amidst the chaos of their pirate life. there was still much to do, but having her by his side made shanks feel like he was building something solid, a future he never quite expected.

by the third month, y/n’s pregnancy was becoming more noticeable, and the crew was even more protective of her.

shanks kept a particularly close eye on her, not wanting her to overdo it, but y/n insisted that she was fine, even helping lucky roo in the kitchen.

lucky and yasopp had both been eagerly asking shanks about how the baby would be raised. 

"you should totally teach them how to be a pirate, i wish i had done that with my boy" yasopp insisted enthusiastically.

back on the ship, the quiet joy of having a child on the way settled in. 

shanks would sometimes smile softly when he caught a glimpse of y/n resting her hand on her stomach.

 “you know,” he said one evening, “i never thought i’d be here, like this. ready to be a dad.”

y/n smiled, leaning into his side. “you’re going to be a great dad, shanks. i know it.”

as month four rolled around, the crew continued to make y/n feel comfortable. she was able to move around the ship more easily, although shanks made sure she had plenty of time to rest. they had become a small family, and even johnny and yosaku would try to keep her entertained with their silly antics.

shanks was still in awe of how smoothly things were going. 

there were moments when he would simply look at y/n with a quiet tenderness, amazed at how their life had changed.

 they still had so much to do, so many adventures to experience,but everything felt right when they were together.

“i’m really lucky, you know?” shanks said one evening, as they stood on the deck, watching the sunset. “to have you with me, and to be starting a family.”

y/n looked up at him, her smile soft and warm. “we’re lucky to have each other.”

 by the fifth month, y/n’s pregnancy was showing more clearly, and shanks was continually amazed by how strong and resilient she was.

 despite the discomforts, she remained active, whether helping in the kitchen or simply enjoying the company of the crew.

one afternoon, while shanks was on deck discussing strategy with beckman, y/n stood with lucky roo, who was showing her some new recipes he was working on.

“do you think the baby will like this one?” lucky roo asked, pointing to a dish he had just finished.

“i’m sure they’ll love anything you make,” y/n replied with a smile.

shanks caught sight of them from the deck and smiled to himself. there was something about the crew’s constant support that made him feel at peace. he knew there would be challenges ahead, but for the first time in his life, he truly felt ready for them.

 the sixth month marked a turning point.

 with the baby growing, y/n found herself needing more breaks, but shanks never left her side. if he wasn’t checking in with her, he was quietly working alongside the crew, always keeping one eye on her.

one evening, after a particularly long day of sailing, shanks found y/n sitting on the deck, gazing out at the horizon. he joined her, sitting beside her in the quiet.

“how do you feel?” he asked, his voice soft.

“tired,” y/n admitted, leaning her head on his shoulder. “but it’s a good kind of tired.”

“yeah?” shanks grinned. “i’ll make sure we take it easy for the next few days. we don’t want you overworking yourself.”

“i think i can handle it. but thank you.” y/n chuckled. 

the rest of the crew kept a similar watchful eye, always ready to help in whatever way they could. 

shanks had become more protective, but y/n appreciated it, especially when she needed a quiet moment with him.

 as the seventh month came, y/n’s belly had grown significantly. 

the crew had already started making small plans to ensure everything was ready for when the baby arrived. 

lucky roo had already been brainstorming how to make the most delicious meal for the occasion, and yasopp had begun researching pirate-friendly baby gear.

shanks found himself becoming increasingly excited about the future. one night, as they shared a quiet moment together on the deck, he asked, “have you thought about names?”

y/n smiled, feeling the weight of their future together. “i have a few ideas, but i’m still thinking it over.”

“we have time,” shanks replied, squeezing her hand. “but i think they’ll have the best of both of us.”

the crew’s excitement grew, and so did the bond between shanks and y/n. despite the unpredictability of their pirate life, they had everything they needed—each other, and a family waiting to be born.

by the eighth month, y/n felt the anticipation of their new arrival. she was still able to move around the ship, but shanks insisted on taking more care of her, always watching out for her needs.

 it seemed as though the entire crew was involved in preparing for the baby, helping in ways big and small.

on one quiet evening, as shanks stood on the deck with beckman, looking out at the vast ocean, he spoke, his voice thoughtful. “i don’t know what we’ll do once the baby’s here. things will change.”

“you’re already thinking about the future, huh?”beckman glanced at him, a small smile on his face.

“yeah,” shanks replied, his voice soft. “we’re going to be a family, beck. and i want to make sure we’re ready for it.”

the ship sailed onward, but for shanks and y/n, their hearts were already focused on what was to come—the beginning of their family.

the final month was a whirlwind of excitement, anticipation, and a few nerves. 

everyone on the ship was preparing for the arrival of the baby, and even shanks, who had always been so composed, found himself caught up in the excitement.

“ready to be a dad?” beckman teased one evening as he watched shanks pacing.

“i hope so,” shanks replied with a laugh, though there was a nervous edge to his voice.

y/n, as always, reassured him. “we’ll be fine,” she said, her hand resting on her belly. “we have the best crew, and we have each other.”

the red force sailed under the stars that night, its course set toward an unknown adventure. but for shanks and y/n, the biggest adventure of all was just beginning.

after months of anticipation, the day finally arrived. y/n had been feeling off for a few hours, slight cramps that she tried to ignore, but soon they grew more intense. shanks immediately noticed her discomfort, his protective instincts taking over. 

he called for help, and the crew quickly responded. beckman and yasopp steered the red force toward a nearby island, making sure y/n had the privacy and comfort she needed, while lucky roo and johnny worked to prepare a safe, calm space below deck. everyone was on edge, but their steady teamwork gave y/n reassurance.

shanks stayed by her side the entire time, holding her hand tightly, his eyes constantly watching her with a mix of love and worry. 

“you’re doing great, y/n,” he whispered, trying to calm both of them, though his own anxiety was clear. y/n smiled at him through the pain. 

“we can do this, shanks.” hours passed, and the pain grew more intense, but y/n’s determination didn’t falter. 

then, with one last powerful push, their son was born.

 the room was filled with the sound of his first cries, a wave of relief flooding through the crew as they witnessed the beginning of a new chapter for them all.

shanks’ face softened in awe, tears filling his eyes as he looked down at his son.

 “he’s perfect,” he whispered, kissing y/n’s forehead and then gently touching the baby’s tiny hand.

 the crew gathered around, each of them marveling at the newborn, their expressions softening as they cooed over the little one. 

lucky roo made a lighthearted comment about the baby already looking like a pirate with his fists clenched, while yasopp grinned proudly. 

beckman gave shanks a look of approval, silently acknowledging the moment. as the crew settled into their new dynamic, shanks felt an overwhelming sense of peace. 

he had never known a love like this,his family, his crew, and now his son.

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 . 𔘓 ؛ great news

⇢ masterlist

⇢ series masterlist

⇢ akagami no shanks x bartender!reader.

⇢ tw: comfort, pregnancy,english isn’t my first language.

⇢ summary: shanks is back because y/n wrote him an urgent letter.

the day had barely started, but the moment shanks stepped foot off his ship, his mind was racing.

 the urgent letter you had sent was unlike any message he’d ever received from you before. your words were simple but full of worry, a sense of desperation that hadn’t been in your voice before. something had happened, something important, and now, here he was, making his way back to the town he hadn’t seen in what felt like forever.

as he walked into the bar, his eyes immediately searched for you, the familiar warmth of the place almost soothing after the rough sea journey. 

the air inside was still, the quiet hum of morning chatter barely there, just like you.

you were standing behind the counter, your back to him as you prepared some dishes, but when you heard the door creak open, you turned around, and for a brief second, the world seemed to slow.

his breath hitched when he saw you, standing there like no time had passed. 

he rushed toward you, his steps quick, his heart in his throat. 

"y/n," he called out, voice tinged with worry. "what happened? what’s wrong?"

you met his gaze, but there was something different in your eyes, something that hadn’t been there before. a slight nervousness. it made his chest tighten.

 "shanks…" you started, your voice shaking slightly. you had been waiting for this moment, yet the reality of it all was still settling over you like a heavy weight.

he frowned, stepping closer, his hand resting gently on your arm.

 "what’s going on?" he asked, voice soft, but full of concern.

taking a deep breath, you looked at him, your fingers nervously twisting the fabric of your shirt. 

"shanks," you said, meeting his eyes, "i… i’m pregnant."

the words hung in the air, heavier than anything he’d ever felt. shanks blinked, his expression frozen for a moment. it wasn’t disbelief, but shock. complete, utter shock. 

"pregnant?" he repeated, his voice barely a whisper as he took a step back, as if trying to process the words. "are you… are you sure?"

 "yeah. i’ve known for a little while now. i… i didn’t know how to tell you." nodded slowly, your stomach twisting with both anxiety and something else, something unspoken.

shanks stood there, silent, his face unreadable. then, slowly, his hand reached out, taking yours in his, his thumb gently tracing the back of your hand. 

"why didn’t you tell me sooner?" his voice wasn’t accusatory, just full of quiet concern, as if the weight of the news hadn’t fully hit him yet.

"i didn’t know what to say," you admitted quietly, your voice trembling. "i’ve never done this before, shanks. i didn’t want to put more on you."

his gaze softened, his thumb still stroking the back of your hand. 

"y/n," he began, his voice low but full of something deeper than you had expected. "this is big. but I’m here. i’m not going anywhere. we’ll figure this out. together."

there was a long silence between you two, his words hanging in the air like a promise. for the first time in a while, you felt your heart settle. 

the world felt a little less overwhelming, even as everything around you changed.

"you’re not alone in this, y/n. not now, not ever. i’ll be here. i’ll always be here." he stepped closer again, his other hand reaching up to cup your cheek.

you let out a soft sigh, closing your eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of the last few days lift, replaced by something softer, something you hadn’t dared to hope for. a sense of security. of peace. and love, quietly blooming between you both.

"thank you," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "thank you for not walking away."

"i’m not going anywhere. we’ve got a lot ahead of us, but we’ll handle it, one step at a time." shanks gave you a small, tender smile, his thumb brushing your cheek. 

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݁ . 𔘓 ؛  letters to my heart

⇢ masterlist

⇢ series masterlist

⇢ akagami no shanks x bartender!reader.

⇢ tw: hurt/comfort ig,english isn’t my first language.

⇢ summary: hanks writes a letter.

my dearest y/n,

i don’t even know where to begin.

i’ve never been the kind of man to sit down and put words onto paper, but for you, i’d do just about anything.

maybe it’s because this time, leaving feels heavier. maybe it’s because, for the first time in my life.

i feel like i have something.

someone.

you.

worth coming back to.

by the time you read this, i’ll already be far out at sea, with nothing but the waves and the wind to keep me company. but even as i stand on the deck, surrounded by the life i’ve always known, my mind keeps drifting back to you, your laughter echoing through the bar, the way your fingers linger when you pass me a drink, the softness in your eyes when you think no one is looking.

i swear, if i close my eyes, i can still feel you beside me, warm and steady, like the one thing in this world that doesn’t slip through my fingers.

i know this isn’t easy.

i know that watching me leave time and time again must hurt more than you let on.

you try to be strong, and you are, but you don’t have to be, not for me. if you ever feel like the loneliness is creeping in, just remember that i feel it too. i may not be there to hold you, but i want you to know that my heart never really leaves you.

you once told me you didn’t want to be just another moment in my life, and i need you to know,you aren’t. you never were.

you are the reason i keep coming back, the reason the sea, for all its freedom, doesn’t feel as endless anymore.

because now, there’s a shore i long for, a place where my soul feels at peace.

and that place is wherever you are.

i don’t know how long i’ll be gone, and i won’t make promises i’m not sure i can keep. the sea is unpredictable, and so is the life i lead. but there’s one thing i can swear to you, with every fiber of my being: i will always find my way back to you. no matter how far i sail, no matter how many storms i face, i will return.

so, until then, keep the bar warm for me. keep your smile, keep your fire, keep living the way you always do, with that quiet strength that makes it impossible not to fall for you. and if, on the loneliest nights, you find yourself wondering if i still think of you, just know this, there won’t be a single day that goes by where you don’t cross my mind.

until i can hold you again, sweetheart.

yours, always and forever, shanks

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݁ . 𔘓 ؛ sailing seas

⇢ masterlist

⇢ series masterlist

⇢ akagami no shanks x bartender!reader.

⇢ tw: angsty, suggestive in the end, english isn’t my first language.

⇢ summary: shanks has to sail away.

the night was quieter than usual, the soft hum of the bar fading into the background as you and shanks stood outside, just beyond the warm glow of the lanterns.

 the salty breeze carried the distant sound of waves, a reminder of where he was meant to be, where he always belonged. yet, for a moment, he lingered, as if reluctant to step away.

"so this is it, huh?" you murmured, your arms crossed loosely over your chest, trying to mask the ache settling deep inside you.

shanks gave you a lopsided smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

"for now," he said, his voice warm but edged with something heavier, something unspoken. "you know i’ll always come back."

"yeah, i know." you nodded, even though it didn’t make it any easier. 

his hand reached out, fingers grazing your cheek before settling against your skin, his touch gentle, lingering.

 "you gonna miss me, sweetheart?" he teased lightly, but there was a quiet vulnerability beneath his words.

 "maybe just a little." you scoffed, rolling your eyes even as a small smile pulled at your lips.

he chuckled, pulling you closer, wrapping you in the warmth of him, the scent of the sea clinging to his coat. 

you breathed him in, memorizing the feeling, knowing it had to last you until the next time.

"i should go," he murmured, but he made no move to pull away.

you tilted your head up to look at him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

 "not yet," you whispered.

his gaze darkened slightly, understanding settling between you. 

the air felt heavier, charged with something that had been building for too long.

without another word, he kissed you.

slow and deep, like he was trying to make time stop, like he wanted to leave a piece of himself with you. 

and maybe he did.

and he wanted to place a piece of him inside you too.

and he definitely did asthe night stretched on. 

it didn’t matter if by the time the first hints of dawn began to creep over the horizon, shanks had to leave. 

no, the only thing that mattered was your love, and he proved it by leaving behind more than just a memory, more than just whispered promises in the dark.

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loooove this omg 😻😻😻😻

Burns

Charlie Swan x fem!reader, Carlisle Cullen x fem!reader 

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: age gap (for both men, both are legal but carlisle is like 223297493 years old so do with that what you’d like lol), burns (second and first degree), doctors office, me knowing too much about twilight 

Author’s Note: IM WRITING A PART 2 RN BUT WANTED TO SEE IF YOU GUYS LIKED THIS <3 I literally randomly had a burst of inspo to write this and i lowkey love it…

Summary: You’re a waitress at the local diner to pay off tuition in the summer. You have a small crush on the chief of police who comes in to get his coffee from you. You thought that was all it was until you met the resident doctor when you have a mishap and now you’re stuck between two incredibly charming men that both have a little crush on you. 

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

Forks, Washington was under a near constant cover of rain. You were aware of it when you woke up in the morning, prepared to see the dreary weather that greeted you through the window. You could smell the rain on the pavement before it came, see it in the clouds as they hovered above. You were always prepared for it, always ready for it. 

Today, the sun was out. Summer usually calls for something more temperate. You found that those days weren’t necessarily unwelcome, but never your favorite. Everyone went outside when it was sunny. You could see people you hadn’t seen in ages. You never made an effort to see them in the first place for a reason. There was an uncharacteristic amount of skin showing. It may only be mid 70s but everyone suddenly acted like the ocean water was a relief to their burning skin. 

You sweat easily, especially in the diner. The Lodge had little to no air conditioning and the sun brought people in droves. Everyone wanted a bite to eat. They all remembered the diner had milkshakes. It was never a great mix for a waitress. 

You turned the corner on your heel, giving a quaint smile to Cora, your coworker. She looked like she was going to melt away. 

“Do you think anyones gonna leave early today?” she asked quietly behind the counter. You shook your head. She had the coffee pot in her hand and was holding it tightly so it didn’t spill. You looked around the packed diner, laughter bubbling from sections where it normally was silent. You shook your head, giving her a sad look. 

“We’re in for one.” 

“I should’ve called out,” she muttered. “You should’ve called out. This place needs us.” You shook your head. 

“You’ve gotta put food on the table,” you reminded her. She had a kid who was going into middle school. You had met her when Cora brought her in, her headphones stuck in her ears and reading some trashy teen novel. 

“Always the voice of reason,” she muttered. “Plus, you gotta pay tuition.” 

“Don’t remind me.” 

You were going to college in Seattle but always worked the summers back in Forks. You loved the little town despite its insanity. You found that most of it was quiet, even on louder days. Plus, it was always easy to find a job back home. You were practically shoved the waitress apron when you returned this summer. You had been doing it since you graduated high school, always trying to find something to keep yourself occupied. You were coming upon your senior year in college and the extra money helped immensely. 

“Hey, your boyfriends here,” Cora teased. She pushed herself off the counter to refill someone’s coffee cup. You furrowed your brows in confusion even though you knew exactly who she meant. 

You watched as chief of police Charlie Swan walked through the doors with a clink of the bell above his head. He met your eyes and gave you an awkward half wave, which you returned slightly more enthusiastically. He walked up to the counter, squeezing between the people sitting there. Someone said hello to him and he gave them a nod in acknowledgment. 

“You guys are busy today huh?” he questioned, scoffing. 

“Just a bit,” you admitted. His presence never ceased to bring butterflies to your stomach. Maybe you were harboring a small/not so small crush on the sheriff but you tried your best not to show it. You assured Cora it was just something silly for you to feel as you passed through your work day. Still, her eyes lingered on yours as she went around the counter to greet someone else because she knew you were busy. “It’s the sun.” 

“Brings out all the loonies,” he said. 

“I imagine you’re busy out there too.” He was always scanning around to make sure no one was doing anything wrong. His eyes flicked from you to the people beside him, then back to you. 

“Taking my 15.” 

“Just to see lil ol me?” you teased. Even as the words left your mouth you felt self conscious of them. This time though, he gave a half smile. 

“You make the best coffee I’ve ever had,” he promised. You tried not to get flustered. 

“Well, it looks like you need a double today, Sheriff.” 

“Charlie, how many times do I have to tell you?” You rolled your eyes. He leaned against the diner counter even though there were no seats. You turned around, every other table lost in your mind. Cora would help you out until he left.

“Well Charlie, it might be too hot for a hot coffee. You could’ve gone to one of those fancy coffee shops,” you offered, grabbing a coffee pot. 

“Yeah, can you imagine me ordering there? I have a hard enough time with you.” 

“I think I get what you mean by now,” you joked. You poured him a cup and grabbed three sugars and two creams. “Anything else?” 

“You always this quick with your service?” he questioned, looking at the people down the line who hadn’t gotten their food. 

“I’m just the coffee girl with a pretty smile. I don’t control the food orders.” You handed him a stirring stick as he opened his sugar packets. “Plus, you’re the chief of police Charlie. I don’t wanna get arrested.” He chuckled, a real genuine laugh. 

“I think I’ll let you off for this one.” You smiled at your success. The laugh was guaranteed to be the highlight of your shift. 

“Thanks Charlie.” You turned back to the kitchen which was starting to call things out. “Anything else?”

“No ma’am.” He grabbed some cash out of his wallet. “Keep the change.” 

“You’re my favorite customer Charlie,” you joked at his more than generous tip of 100%. He did a little salute with his finger and raised the cup to you. 

“Go do your job otherwise you’re bound to get more angry customers than I am.” 

You nodded once and bowed out of the conversation gracefully. You grabbed the food from behind you and started to bring it out. Cora gave you a look as you passed her, the smile plastered on your face a clear tell of your conversation. 

“Peach cobbler,” you said to one of your regulars. She was a small old lady who always came in on Saturdays, at exactly the same time. You enjoyed talking with her and catching up on her life. She got the same thing each time and the consistency was something you appreciated. “Sorry it’s been slower today Miss. Heidi. The heat has the whole of Forks out!” She shook her head, brushing you off. 

“No worries at all,” she assured you. “It’s not like I’m not gonna come back.” You shared in her shaky laughter. She picked up her fork just as you were about to leave and pointed it at Charlie. “You making heart eyes at the chief over there sweetheart?” You flushed immediately. Maybe you weren’t so great at hiding it. 

“Maybe. But keep your mouth shut Heidi,” you whispered with a smile. She chuckled. Her eyes lingered on Charlie who was finishing his coffee already. He had started a conversation with the man beside him. Charlie seemed to know everyone in town. 

“Aren’t you a little young for him?” You rolled your eyes. 

“It’s perfectly constenting and legal,” you assured her. “I’m plenty older than his daughter if that’s what you’re gonna say.” 

“I was gonna mention.” Her eyes wrinkled at the edges, shaking her head. Her movements didn’t feel like she was disagreeing with you. More so that she was gossiping with a friend, just girls being girls. “He had his heart broken by her mother, you know. He’s a good man.” 

“Is that your consent Heidi? Because I don’t even know if he feels the same way.” Your voice was lighthearted. She grabbed your hand, her saggy skin feeling comforting. 

“I wouldn’t worry too much sweetheart.” You scrunched your face a little and shook off her words. You were still on the clock. 

“Enjoy your peach cobbler Heidi.” 

-

You brushed your hair out of your face. The sun had finally subsided for the evening, giving way for the clouds. You embraced their presence, appreciating the way that the cool air felt on your overworked skin. Cora was still hanging around after her shift, waiting for her husband to come pick her up. You sat on the back steps of The Lodge, watching the trees sway. 

“The air feels so crisp,” you muttered. 

“You say the weirdest things,” she grumbled, laughing. She was leaning against the building. “It’s the trees.” 

“I know.” You were going to leave right after work and finally drive back home but you needed a moment to sit and enjoy the day. It had been a long shift. Cora and you were officially trauma bonded. 

“How was the chief?” 

“Good,” you promised. “Sweet.”

“A guy can be sweet and catch criminals?” 

“He’s assertive,” you argued. When Cora laughed she did it with her whole chest. 

“Honey, you’re down bad.” You rolled your eyes and stood up. Cora’s eyes followed you as you did so, turning back to the door inside the diner. “You’re goin back into that hellhole?” 

“Forgot my phone,” you said. “Also, I am not. It’s a work crush. I’m entitled to one! Just like you like the produce guy!” 

“I do not like the produce guy. I think he’s hot. Big difference!” You rolled your eyes as you opened the door back inside. The heat hit you again, unpleasantly. You had to weave through the cooks to get back to the front. You couldn’t remember when you had put your phone down. You were making a phone call during your break. Maybe you had left it on hte steps outside after all? 

“Hey Jerry?!” you called to the cook in the back.

“What?!” 

“You seen my phone?” 

“No! All I’ve seen are burgers!” You rolled your eyes harder this time and dipped underneath the counter to see if you had put it with the sugars and stuff. You let out an annoyed groan when it wasn’t there. 

You turned too quick and ran right into the closing waitress. She was holding a hot pot of coffee and effectively spilled it all over you. You gasped involuntarily, the feeling of scorching coffee seeping through your clothes. The gasp turned into a seethe as you packed up. You could hear her speaking, the high pitched, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” reverberating off your eardrums. You had dropped coffee on yourself before. All you could think of was that you needed a towel and some cold water. 

You turned on a dime and walked back to the kitchen. You turned on the sink back there and fumbled your hand around for a towel to use. 

“Jerry, towel,” you mumbled, the burning skin now setting into a tingle. He turned his head around and saw you. He started to fumble around. You walked in front of him to grab the towel and just barely lost your balance, causing your hand to fly up onto the table. 

Right onto the stove. 

This time you yelped. The coffee was already forgotten as there was now more of an issue at hand. 

“Woah dollface!” Jerry exclaimed. He grabbed your wrist because you were just staring at your red hand. You had put your entire palm down. You looked up at him, tears staining your eyes from pain, and he brought you over to the sink. 

“Oh fuck,” you groaned as he put it under the cold water. It didn’t subside any pain, just added another sensation. “Jerry that hurts!” 

“Hey Y/N, I have your phone in my apron.” Cora came through the door to witness you breathing heavily next to the sink, Jerry the cook practically holding you down. 

“She burned her hand on the stove,” he explained. 

“She spilled coffee on me,” you blubbered childishly. You could feel all your body parts at once, like you were on fire. You had no brain power to say anything else. 

“Oh Jesus,” Cora muttered. She rushed forward, grabbing your wrist to look at it. “You gotta get this checked out honey.” You gave her a somber looking face. “I know, I know. I’ll take you. Where’s your car keys?” You reached in your apron with your non burnt hand. It was soaking wet from the coffee. 

“Is she okay?” the waitress asked, sticking her head through the window. 

“She burned her hand on the stove,” Jerry said. 

“She what?!” 

Cora put her hand on your back, leading you out the door. You took deep breaths, in through your nose and out through your mouth. You were fine. You were gonna be fine. 

“I’ll be okay,” you whispered. “You have to g-”

“I’ll have Steven do it,” she said. Her husband. You gave her a look of pure thankfulness as she helped you into the passenger seat of her car. 

“I really don’t have to go to the hospital over this,” you tried to say. 

“I know you don’t. But I think it’s safer than waiting.” You put your head against your headrest. 

-

Cora dragged you by your free arm to the front desk. She was the one who gave your name and your information as you stood beside her, holding your hand. You looked like a mess, given the coffee all over you. You were sure this could all just be fixed by some water and ointment from the store but Cora insisted. 

She rambled on about how a family member hadn’t gone in for a burn and it ended up being more severe then they thought, damaging below the skin. Her words were not comforting. 

Eventually they called you back to be looked at. You sat on an exam table with a thin paper on top. A nurse had come in to check on you and give you something for your hand while you waited for the doctor. 

You were in a row of beds. Cora pulled the curtains aside to give you privacy. 

“I really don’t think that’s necessary,” you said. 

“They don't get to know all your business. HIPAA or whatever.” You squinted. 

“I don’t think-” 

“Ladies.” Carlisle Cullen stepped through the curtain at the open side. He was holding a clipboard, a charming smile plastered on his face. Your breath hitched at the sight of him. He was gorgeous. “Y/N, I hear you burned your hand.” You nodded. 

“And her chest,” Cora muttered. She must have noticed Carlisle’s looks as well. Or maybe she just noticed your reaction to him. You cleared your throat. 

“I had coffee spilled on me.” 

“No, you should check it out. It’s bad.” You gave a look. Carlisle’s smile remained, shaking his head. You had heard of him but never had a reason to come out and see him. You wouldn’t even call this a valid reason. 

“Sounds like an awful case of bad luck.” You nodded. “Can I take a look?” He sat on a spinny chair and pulled it towards you. You extended your hand to him. 

“I’m gonna go call Steven,” she said to you. You nodded. She patted your back, her eyes lingering on your doctor even as she left. Carlisle held your hand in his, gently looking it over. You looked down at him. 

“A stove did this?” 

“Yeah. It was dumb,” you promised. “I lost my balance looking for a rag for the coffee burn.” 

“And that’s okay?” You nodded. 

“I think. I mean, my hand feels way worse,” you assured him. 

“Your friend seems to think otherwise.” 

“Cora’s dramatic by nature.” He laughed gently. 

“Well the stove fought back.” He wheeled backwards towards the table beside your bed. “It looks like second degree burns on your hand. I’ll send you home with some ointment for it and you’ll wanna wrap it up so that you don’t get it caught on your clothes or anything.” You nodded. “I’ll wrap it for you first, show you how to do it.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Of course.” He stood up and fumbled in the desks drawer. “Are you sure you don’t want me to check on the coffee burns?” He glanced back at you. You looked down at your shirt. It had mostly gotten your stomach. You could still feel pain there, probably driven by the fact you never got to clean it off. 

“If you think it’ll help?”

“Stomach burns are interesting just because of their placement. It’s harder to wrap them. I think it would be beneficial for me to make sure they’re only first degree, if anything.” You nodded. You would listen to him read the phone book. 

“Okay.” He walked back over. Before even touching your shirt he made eye contact with you. 

“Only if you’re comfortable. I can wait till your friend comes back if you want me to.” You shook your head. 

“I’m okay!” you promised. You cleared your throat and grabbed the hem of your shirt. You carefully lifted it up over your torso, holding it just above the wet spot. Carlisle’s eyes went down to your body. 

“You said the hand hurt more?”

“By far.” 

“Can I touch you?” Please. You cleared your throat again. 

“Sure.” He put an icy hand on your hip, lightly brushing your burn with his thumb. 

“How much does that hurt? Scale one to ten?” 

“Five.” He applied more pressure. 

“Now?” 

“Seven. Your hands are really cold, which could be worsening the effects,” you joked. He chuckled, his lips turning up a bit. 

“Sorry about that.” He backed up a bit. You put your shirt back down. “Those are first degree burns. It only hit in some spots. Should feel numb or touchy for a couple days. You can put the ointment there too but you shouldn’t have to wrap it up.”

“The hand needs it.”

“The hand needs it,” he agreed. He had put some stuff on the counter, which he now took in his hands. He squeezed something out a bottle and put a bit of it on his finger, taking your hand back in his. “Let me know if the pressure is too much.” 

You watched him, your free hands fingers curled under the bed you were sitting on. He gently covered your hand, using such a light touch that it was like he was barely there. 

“You’re good at this.” 

“It’s my job,” he said, smiling. “Are you from out of town? I don’t think I’ve had you in here before.” 

“Just lucky,” you quipped. “I go to college in Seattle too so I’m usually out there.” He nodded slowly. 

“Fancy.”

“The drive back is beautiful.” He nodded slowly. His hand lingered on yours as he examined his work. “So is this town.” 

“Do you work at the diner?”

“Yeah! That’s where I got this beauty.” He scooted back, grabbing the bandages.

“I think my son’s seen you there. He’s graduating high school in a year and likes his seclusion,” he explained. 

“Son?” you asked. 

“Edward.” 

“No, I’m just stunned you have a child. You look far too young,” you said, laughing incredibly. He grinned sheepishly. You tried not to think of him being married or the lack of ring on his finger. 

“He’s technically my foster son,” he described. 

“I see. Do you do it all on your own?” You winced. That was aggressive. “I don’t mean to pry.” “It’s alright,” he said, shaking his head, completely cool. “Yes, they’re all under my care. I haven’t found the right one quite yet. Plus, she’d have to take on more than a couple stragglers with me.” His eyes flicked up to yours. They met for a moment longer than they should have. You had to look away. 

“Sounds like a task.” 

“It’s definitely not for everyone.” He tightened your bandage. “There. I’ll send you home with some of this, it’ll be sent to wherever you get your prescriptions.” He stepped back from you. “Try to be careful around stoves next time.”

“Yes sir.” He gave you one more look, a kind hearted smile and then was on his way. You followed him until he was gone out of view. You were glad he hadn’t checked your pulse because you were sure it was beating out of your chest. Cora came around the corner. 

“He’s too old for you too,” she said. You laughed dryly, shaking your head. You could practically still feel his touch on your hand. So gentle. 

“You’ll learn to get used to it,” you teased her. She rolled her eyes. “Were you waiting out there the whole time?” 

“Wanted to give you and Doctor Dreamy some alone time.” 

“You’re such a wingwoman!” 

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell the Sheriff.” 

Part 2

[spideysl0ve]

݁ . 𔘓 ؛ are we?

⇢ chapter 5

⇢ masterlist

⇢ series masterlist

⇢ akagami no shanks x bartender!reader.

⇢ tw: fluff,english isn’t my first language.

⇢ summary: shanks is confused because he dosen’t understand why everyone talks about them.

the evening was quiet at the bar, the usual hum of patrons filled the space, but there was an odd sense of calm between you and shanks.

 he sat on one of the barstools, sipping a drink, watching you work as you prepped a few dishes behind the counter.

 it had been a long day, and you were glad to be getting a moment to just breathe, but shanks couldn’t seem to shake off the curious feeling that had been growing in him ever since you’d both stepped into town.

"hey," he said, catching your attention as you flipped a pan, the sizzle filling the air. "i can’t help but notice... why’s everyone been talking about us lately? i mean, it’s like they all know something i don’t."

you paused for a moment, glancing over at him with a small smile, clearly amused by his confusion. it was hard not to be, given the fact that he, the infamous red-haired pirate, had no clue what the town was whispering about.

"well, shanks... it’s because we’re official now."  you wiped your hands on a towel before answering, your voice light and teasing. 

his eyebrows shot up in surprise, and for a second, he almost choked on his drink. 

"official?" he repeated, a playful glint in his eye. "are we?"

"i don’t know, are we?" you shrugged slightly, your smile tugging at the corners of your lips. 

shanks leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtful for a moment before he chuckled, shaking his head as if the whole thing was just too funny.

 "well, if they say so…" he said with a teasing smirk, clearly enjoying this little back-and-forth. "guess we can’t deny it then."

"you sure you’re ready for that? for people to know we’re together?" you leaned against the counter, giving him a playful look.

he grinned, his usual confident demeanor returning in full force. 

"why not? if the world’s ready to talk, we might as well let them know the truth." he stood up from the stool, closing the space between you two in a few long strides

. "we’re official, then," he said softly, taking your hand in his. "if you’re okay with that."

your heart fluttered in your chest as he held your gaze, and you felt a warmth spread through you. 

"i guess we are," you whispered, your fingers tightening around his. "official."

"guess that means we’re stuck with each other now, huh?" shanks leaned in then, his lips brushing against your forehead before he pulled back with a grin. 

"guess so, redhead."you chuckled, your heart lighter than it had been in a long time. 

"good. because I wouldn’t have it any other way." he smiled wider, a glimmer of something deeper in his eyes as he took your hand in his once more, pulling you closer.

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heyyy

i'm suffering with school and studies, so i can't really write much but i'll be publishing the chapters from bartender's heart, my shanks series 🫶

i'll try to be back as soon as possible luvs

[spideysl0ve]

 . 𔘓 ؛ monkey d. luffy

⇢ chapter 4

⇢ masterlist

⇢ series masterlist

⇢ akagami no shanks x bartender!reader.

⇢ tw: fluff,english isn’t my first language.

⇢ summary: luffy goes to y/n’s bar as he is in trouble because of stealing.

aubrey was used to seeing all kinds of people come and go through her bar, but luffy was different.

he had first stumbled in a while back, wild-eyed and hungry, a grin that stretched from ear to ear despite the clear exhaustion on his face.

aubrey had been behind the bar at the time, just finishing up some cleaning, when she noticed him pacing around, looking confused and more than a little lost.

she could tell right away that he wasgoing to be a pirate, his demeanor too carefree, but there was something genuine in the way he carried himself that intrigued her.

at first, she’d just asked if he was looking for something to eat.

"i’m starving!" without skipping a beat, luffy had eagerly replied with a simple.

aubrey had laughed and made him a quick meal, nothing fancy, but enough to satisfy his hunger.

as she handed it over, she’d been surprised when he grinned widely and started devouring it like he hadn’t eaten in days.

they talked a little here and there, and she quickly learned that he had a tendency to get in trouble for the oddest reasons.

he wasn’t malicious, just... thoughtless at times. over time, their relationship had blossomed into a bit of an unspoken arrangement.

luffy would pop in when he was passing through town, and aubrey, knowing he didn’t have much to his name, would feed him for free, no questions asked. it was a small kindness she offered to the young pirate, and he’d always leave with a loud

“thank you!” and a full belly, promising to come back whenever he was in town again.

today, however, was a bit different. luffy had found himself in a bit of trouble after helping himself to some food from a local market without paying. the shopkeeper was angry, but luffy had been too busy to even notice the mistake until it was already too late. that’s when he had found his way back to aubrey’s bar, hoping she might be able to help him out like she always did.

shanks was leaning casually by the bar when he noticed luffy walk in, his usual loud personality dampened by the sense of guilt hanging over him.

aubrey gave luffy a nod as he approached her, but her focus quickly shifted back to the shopkeeper standing behind the counter. she had to sort out the mess that luffy had made.

“hey, luffy. what’s going on?” she asked, voice calm but with an undercurrent of concern. she’d always had a soft spot for the kid, despite his reckless nature.

“uhh,” luffy scratched his head, a sheepish look replacing his usual grin. “i might’ve, uh, taken some food without paying for it.” he glanced nervously at aubrey, waiting for her to scold him, but she just sighed and motioned for him to sit down at the bar.

“let me take care of this, alright?” aubrey said, her voice firm but not unkind.

“stay here, i’ll handle it.” she turned to the shopkeeper, who had been glaring at luffy from across the room, clearly still upset but willing to let it slide if the situation was resolved properly.

aubrey walked toward him, explaining the misunderstanding and offering to pay for what luffy had taken, something she had done a few times before.

meanwhile, shanks, who had been watching the exchange with a bemused expression, leaned closer to luffy.

“so you’re the guy causing all this trouble?” shanks asked with a slight grin, his voice carrying an amused tone.

luffy, still looking somewhat uncomfortable, shifted on his seat.

“yeah, guess so. but i didn’t mean to, honest!” he threw his hands up in defense. “i was just hungry, and it’s not like they’re gonna miss it, right?”

shanks chuckled, taking a sip of his drink, clearly entertained by luffy’s carefree attitude.

“you know, you might want to try paying for things every now and then. i don’t think this kind of stuff is gonna fly everywhere you go. even a pirate has to keep some kind of rules, or you’ll find yourself in real trouble.” the older man spoke.

luffy nodded vigorously.

“yeah, i get it! no more stealing!” he said earnestly, though there was a hint of mischief in his eyes, as if he wasn’t entirely convinced he’d be able to follow through.

shanks raised an eyebrow.

“i wouldn’t bet on that,” he teased, leaning back in his chair. he had seen this kind of reckless spirit before, and he knew it would take a lot more than a few words to change luffy’s ways. but it was entertaining to watch the kid try, and shanks wasn’t in any hurry to rush things.

while shanks and luffy exchanged lighthearted banter, aubrey had finished sorting out the payment. she returned to the bar, and as she did, she glanced at shanks, her expression softening.

“he didn’t mean to cause any harm,” she explained, her voice kind but firm. she didn’t want the pirate captain to think she was excusing luffy’s behavior, but she understood him in a way most others didn’t.

shanks raised his glass slightly in a casual salute, acknowledging aubrey’s words.

“i get it,” he said, his tone understanding but still playful.

“he’s a good kid. just needs a bit of direction, i suppose.” he turned to luffy with a knowing look. “but he’s also got a lot of potential. you could do worse than him on your crew, aubrey.”

aubrey gave him a small smile.

“maybe, but he’s got to learn a little about responsibility first,” she replied, her eyes flicking toward luffy as he nodded solemnly, agreeing in his own way. “i’m just glad he’s got people like you around to help him out.”

“well, i don’t know about that. but i’ll keep an eye on him. just don’t let him get too far into trouble. i think he has enough energy to get himself into it without much help from the rest of us.” shanks chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

“oh, i’ll be sure to keep an eye on him, don’t worry.” aubrey laughed, shaking her head fondly.

“thanks for everything, aubrey! i’ll make it up to you, i swear!” the two pirates exchanged a few more words, and luffy, looking a little more at ease, finished his drink and stood up.

“just don’t steal anything else,” she called out with a teasing smile as luffy waved enthusiastically, heading for the door. shanks followed, a final chuckle escaping his lips.

it was moments like this, unpredictable, slightly chaotic, but full of warmth, that made aubrey’s life a little brighter. and though luffy might get himself into trouble again, she knew she’d be there to help him out when he needed it.

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[spideysl0ve]

 . 𔘓 ؛ ways of love

⇢ masterlist

⇢ pt.1 pt.2 pt.3

⇢ s1!seong gi-hun x reader, cho sang-woo x reader, kang sae-byeok x reader, abdul ali x reader

⇢ a/n: hiii, i'm back, sorry i was off for all this time, but everything has been too much lately but i'm better now soooo squid game headcanons ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

⇢ tw: fluff, not poly they’re separated, english isn’t my first language.

⇢ summary:  what are their love languages? 

🎰₊˚seong gi-hun·˚ 

₊he’s sooo sweet, he surely loves to cuddle with you, which will probably end up in him tickling you while you both giggle playfully.

₊expect a lot of pda, this man loves you and looooves to show he loves you, he will never shut up about you.

₊he would love to walk with you and his daughter in the park, maybe have a picnic there.

₊he didn't tell you when he got into the game, he didn't want you to know because he'd think you would think he was a loser and you would leave him </3

🔪₊˚cho sang-woo·˚ 

₊he’s more reserved, he actually doesn't like pda but will have his arm around your shoulder or waist, he likes to show that you're his and he's yours.

₊always having his scent around, the tobacco and cheap cologne that always lingers around him also follows you.

₊he will definitely try to take you to at least an elegant restaurant, he feels like you deserve it.

₊he probably lied to you about the games, just like he did with his mother, but it would be harder for him to it with you.

🧢₊˚kang sae-byeok·˚ 

₊she’s very private, i feel like nobody would know you two are dating except for his brother and a few more people like really close friends

₊SHE DEFINITELY HOLDS YOUR PINKY, i'm so sure she will walk just holding pinkies in such a gentle, sweet way.

₊she soooooo protective of you, always being around you, you low-key have scary dog privilege with her

₊she did tell you about the games, so that you took care of her brother, so you knew she wasn't coming back when gi-hun came as she asked him in the games </3.

🔵₊˚abdul ali·˚ 

₊sweetest man on earth, he's like a little puppy always around you all over you, kissing you and hugging you.

₊this man loves you and loves to show the world how he loves you, he will never shut up about you, is he's favorite topic.

₊he would definitely cook you as his love language, and he cooks soooooo fucking good.

₊he did tell you about the games, just that not so clearly, so you thought he had left you when he didn't came back <////3

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[spideysl0ve]

Hi! I love how you write so much! You do such an incredible job!

I was hoping maybe you could do a Smoker X Wife reader who is always making sure he isn’t neglecting his health.

We all know Smoky has to be a workaholic and a perfectionist so he is always determined to do his job 100% while neglecting his health. Meaning no sleep and forgetting to eat.

 . 𔘓 ؛ four times

⇢ masterlist

⇢ husband!smoker x wife!reader.

⇢ tw: fluff, gender-neutral reader, mild injury care, english isn’t my first language.

⇢ summary: 4 times y/n, smoker’s wife, takes care of him.

the first time you took care of smoker was after a nasty skirmish at the harbor.

a brawl with a rogue group of pirates had left him bruised and battered, though, as always, he shrugged it off like it was nothing.

"it's just a scratch," he grumbled as you pulled him into your shared quarters, his coat slung over your arm after he'd stubbornly refused to leave it behind.

"scratch or not, you're sitting down," you countered firmly, guiding him to the chair by the window. "let me take a look."

he huffed but relented, muttering about how he'd dealt with worse. the sight of him, the man known for his imposing presence,reduced to a scuffed-up heap made your heart twist with concern.

gently, you rolled up his sleeve to reveal a gash along his forearm, not deep but angry-looking and raw.

"you really need to stop punching things with your bare hands," you teased, trying to keep the mood light.

"they deserved it," smoker replied, his gravelly voice tinged with pride.

"and now you're paying for it." you chuckled despite yourself, reaching for the first-aid kit.

as you cleaned and bandaged the wound, his eyes stayed on you, softening as your hands worked carefully but efficiently. it was rare for him to sit still like this, to let someone tend to him without protest.

"you don't have to fuss over me," he said quietly.

"i’m not fussing," you replied, tying the bandage securely. "i’m making sure you don’t bleed all over the place. big difference."

"still. thanks." his lips quirked into the smallest of smiles.

you brushed a hand gently over his knuckles before letting go. "always," you said softly. "now stop getting into fights you don’t have to."

"no promises," he muttered, but there was warmth in his voice now.

"figured as much." you sighed, shaking your head.

and though smoker might've never been one for overt displays of affection, in that quiet room, with the soft creak of the ship and your hands tending to his wounds, there was no denying the depth of the bond you shared.

 ------------------------✩┈┈∘*┈୨୧┈*∘┈┈✩--------------------------

the second time you took care of smoker was after a long day of work, where he’d been out on a particularly frustrating mission. he’d come back late, his face pinched with exhaustion, and his usually sharp demeanour dulled from the weight of the day.

you found him sitting at the kitchen table, rubbing his temples, trying to shake off the tension in his neck. the moment he saw you, he grumbled a half-hearted greeting.

“rough day?” you asked, already setting a warm mug of tea on the table in front of him.

“you could say that,” smoker muttered, his eyes still unfocused. his whole posture screamed exhaustion, like every muscle in his body had been pushed to its limits.

you moved to sit beside him, your hand gently resting on his shoulder.

"come on," you said softly. "let me help you relax."

with a sigh, he leaned back in his chair, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as you began massaging his neck. the weight of his usual stoic demeanour seemed to melt away under your touch, and for the first time in a long while, he let himself be vulnerable.

“i’m fine,” he said, though the words were quiet, almost as if he didn’t quite believe them himself.

“yeah, i know,” you whispered. “but sometimes, even the toughest need to take a break.”

you continued working your fingers into the knots in his shoulders, feeling the tension slowly dissipate as he let out a soft sigh.

his hand rested over yours as you massaged his neck, a silent thanks, the touch more tender than he would ever say out loud.

"you always know how to make me feel better," smoker muttered, his voice low but genuine.

you smiled gently, brushing a strand of his hair away from his face. "it's the least i can do," you said, leaning closer to press a soft kiss to the top of his head.

for a moment, the world outside the kitchen faded away, leaving just the two of you in that quiet, peaceful space. and as you continued to help him unwind, it became clear that, even though he never asked for help, he always appreciated it when you were there for him.

------------------------✩┈┈∘*┈୨୧┈*∘┈┈✩--------------------------

the third time you took care of smoker was on a day when he’d been buried in paperwork for hours. the sound of flipping pages and the occasional frustrated grunt was the only noise in the office, his eyes glued to the pile of documents that seemed never-ending.

you had noticed that he hadn’t taken a break in ages, barely even noticing the time pass as he worked. it was a familiar sight, one that often made you worry—he tended to push himself too hard, and sometimes he forgot to take care of himself in the process.

so, you decided to do something about it.

quietly, you walked into the room with a tray of food in your hands—nothing fancy, just his favourite dish of rice and grilled fish, a small bowl of soup on the side.

you set it down gently on the desk next to him, and his tired eyes flickered up at you, a flash of surprise crossing his face.

"i didn’t ask for food," smoker muttered, his gaze drifting back to the paperwork.

“i know," you said, offering him a playful smile as you slid the tray closer to him. "but you haven't eaten in hours. and if i have to keep reminding you to take care of yourself, i will."

he grunted, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips despite himself. he didn’t say anything else as you sat down across from him, simply reaching for the chopsticks and starting to eat.

you watched him for a moment, just enjoying the rare sight of him slowing down, his shoulders less tense as he took a break from his endless work.

after a few minutes, smoker finally spoke, his voice softened by the warmth of the meal. "you always know what i need before i do, huh?"

you gave a small, quiet laugh. "i’ve been with you long enough to know when you’re running on empty."

he didn’t answer right away, but you caught the way he looked at you, the slightest bit of gratitude in his tired eyes.

when the meal was finished, you gently cleared the tray and gave him a look that silently told him to rest.

he gave in, leaning back in his chair, allowing himself to take a breath.

"thanks," he said quietly, his voice sincere. "i don’t know what i’d do without you."

you smiled softly. "you’d probably eat instant noodles and get a headache from all that paperwork," you teased.

smoker chuckled under his breath, relaxing for the first time that day. “guess i’ll have to keep you around then, huh?”

“that’s the plan,” you said, your voice light with affection as you moved to sit beside him, content just to be in his company.

------------------------✩┈┈∘*┈୨୧┈*∘┈┈✩--------------------------

the fourth time you took care of smoker was the quietest yet most intimate. after a long day of chasing down leads, dealing with paperwork, and handling countless responsibilities, smoker had barely kept his eyes open by the time he returned home.

as he slumped onto the couch, sighing deeply, you noticed how utterly exhausted he was. his usual sharp edge seemed dulled, his body slumped as if it couldn’t hold itself up anymore. you knew he’d been running on fumes for too long.

without saying a word, you quietly grabbed a blanket and draped it over his form, gently smoothing it down as you moved to sit beside him. smoker didn’t protest; he barely even looked up from his tired, bleary eyes.

“you should get some sleep,” you murmured softly, brushing a hand through his hair, trying to ease the tension from his shoulders.

he muttered something unintelligible under his breath, his body shifting slightly as if he wanted to pull away from the world, but he didn’t. instead, he leaned into your touch, closing his eyes as if he knew that for once, he could let someone else take care of him.

“i’ll be fine,” smoker muttered, his voice thick with exhaustion.

you shook your head with a small smile, settling beside him more comfortably. “you’re always fine until you burn out, but tonight, you’re going to sleep. and i’ll be here when you wake up.”

he let out a deep, contented sigh, still wary but too tired to argue. the tension in his muscles slowly unravelled as he relaxed under the warmth of your touch. you sat beside him, not speaking, simply existing in the quiet moments.

eventually, smoker drifted off to sleep, his breathing soft and even. you didn’t move, not wanting to disturb him. instead, you stayed close, keeping watch as he rested—his peace was all that mattered now.

you could feel your eyelids growing heavy, but you stayed alert, the quiet weight of his presence beside you keeping you grounded.

smoker had always been the one to protect others, the one who carried the burden alone, but tonight, you were there to share the weight of the world with him, even if only for a while.

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[spideysl0ve]

HEYHEY!!! I absolutely love your headcanons, please never give up!!

So, could you do a "how did i get so lucky to find you?" with Luffy?? If I may, I would like the reader to have gone through difficult things and Luffy would always try to cheer them up.

Have a great day, and take your time to do It! <33

 . 𔘓 ؛ finding joy

⇢ masterlist

⇢ writing prompts

⇢ monkey d.luffy x reader.

⇢ tw: fluff, gender-neutral reader, comforting luffy, english isn’t my first language.

⇢ summary: "how did i get so lucky to find you?" prompt with luffy.

the crew bustled around the deck, preparing for the evening, but you sat off to the side, quiet and lost in thought.

memories from your past weighed heavily on your mind, the ache of things you couldn’t change pressing hard against your chest.

luffy noticed immediately.

he always did when something was off. bounding over to your side, he plopped down beside you, his wide grin unyielding despite your somber expression.

“whatcha thinking about?” he asked, tilting his head like a curious child.

you sighed, the weight of your thoughts lingering even as you appreciated his presence.

“just... old stuff,” you murmured. “things that are hard to forget.”

his brow furrowed briefly, not entirely understanding, but his determination to help shone through.

“well, thinking too much makes your head hurt,” he said with simple conviction. “and if your head hurts, you can’t eat as much meat. so you gotta stop!”

“that’s your solution for everything, isn’t it?” despite yourself, a small laugh escaped your lips.

“yep!” he declared proudly, stretching his arms up toward the sky. “but it works, right? see, you’re already smiling!”

“you’re something else, luffy.” you shook your head, a mixture of amusement and affection bubbling to the surface.

“you bet I am!” he grinned wider, clearly taking it as a compliment.

the ache in your chest eased as you looked at him, his carefree nature pulling you from the grip of your past.

“how did i get so lucky to find you?” you asked, half to yourself but loud enough for him to hear.

“lucky? did i lose something?” his head tilted again, confusion flickering across his face.

“no, luffy. it’s just... you make things better, even when it feels like they can’t be.” you laughed fully this time, shaking your head.

“well, yeah! we’re nakama! that’s what we do!” his grin returned, brighter than ever.

and in that moment, you realized that no matter how heavy the past felt, luffy’s unwavering spirit would always be there to remind you of the joy waiting just ahead.

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