anunusualghost

[anunusualghost]

The Greatest Pirate You've Ever Seen

Synopsis: The Legendary Sparrow and Joy Boy meet.

An: Gender neutral reader. For funsies, reader is Jack Sparrow coded. I think it's a neat concept I haven't seen yet. Sparrow D. Y/n because we like to have a little fun around here 🥺

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You think it's been days since you last set foot on land. The dingy ship you'd stolen on its last legs. There's an island in the distance. Dressrosa, you think. Land of the toys, faires, and whatever else fairytale bullshit. 

Sounds like a good time.

You check your compass and sure enough, it's pointing towards the kingdom. While you were here you might as well get a proper log pose. It'd save you from another week of drifting along aimlessly. You dock what's left of your ship and make your way into town.

It's…an experience. 

The rumors weren't wrong. Children’s toys walked alongside humans like it was normal. You suppose it wasn't the strangest thing you'd seen in the New World. Fish people and Minks were definitely up there. 

“Hey you, tin man. Is there something going on today?” You call out to a robot.

He spins his head around to address you. 

“You haven't heard? They're having a tournament for the Flame-Flame fruit. It's being hosted by a member of the royal family.” 

He proceeded to eye you wearily. You supposed you looked out of place here compared to the usual civilian. 

“Royal family?” You muttered.

That's right. 

A warlord and his goons inhabited the island. It would be wise to lay low. On the other hand, there wasn't a wanted poster of you in existence. You were a myth as far as most people were concerned. Nobody would bat an eye at you. Unless you gave out your name, that is.

“Thank you darling.” You give the robot a pat on the arm and leave to search for more information.

You didn't really care about the devil fruit. It's not like you could eat it either. But what you wanted was here. That was enough of a reason for you to enter the tournament. 

The application process was simple enough. Sign your name and take a number. Although the woman at the counter looked at you like you were crazy. You were unfortunate enough to be one of the earlier entries. Having to wait as bigger and louder contestants piled in. Forced to listen to their misplaced bravado. 

You decided you were too sober to put up with this. Getting ready to scrounge around for a bottle of rum before the fighters started whispering around you. Their sights directed on the latest contestant. An old man. 

“Poor old fool probably doesn't know where he is.”

“What's with the little guy?”

“Is this some kind of joke?”

There was something off about the guy. He didn't have the gait of an old man struggling to stand. He's too agile. His hair is practically jet black, not at all grizzled with age like his ‘beard.’ Were people seriously buying this?

You may have been buzzed, but your eyes still worked. 

Your suspicions were confirmed when another fighter challenged him. The supposed geezer dodged every punch thrown at him with ease. Grabbing his opponent and slamming him into the ground with a spin. 

You smirk, popping open the cap of your compass. The needle immediately points in his direction. This just got very interesting. You make it a point to actually read the name on his back. 

‘Lucy’

Even his alias is bullshit. 

You think you might have a good time after all. And the slim chance you actually win the devil fruit, you could sell it for a decent sum. Oh, just thinking about all the rum you could get is sending shivers down your spine. Maybe you could even afford a nice ship. Black sails and all. 

You unconsciously reach down towards your pocket. Your fingers making out a familiar shape. Seems your day just keeps getting better. The flask is decently full. 

You're about two swigs in before someone calls out to you.

“Hey! Where'd you get the food?” It's Lucy. (Who in Luffy fashion, equates drinks to meaning food must also be around.) 

“This?” You give the flask a shake, swishing around its contents. 

“Forgot I had it on me, honestly. But if you manage to find a bottle, bring it here would you?” 

He sulks for a second, mourning the loss of a potential meal. Then all at once he's full of energy again. 

“Sure!”

He's a friendly one. You wonder how long your compass will stay pointing at him. How long you'll follow around this time. 

“That beard of yours real?” You questioned. 

He seemed to remember where he was. His voice immediately picking up in pitch and rasp. 

“Why yes young whipper snapper. I grew it myself.”

It's a terrible impression, and you can see the string holding his beard up in place. You're close enough to see his face now. No crows feet or wrinkles. But you don't call him out on it. You're curious to see where this goes. Unfortunately, you don't have much time to sit and talk. The first match is about to begin. 

Your match. 

“You're a strange one, aren't you? Don't die before the funs begun okay?” You call out behind you.

He scrunches his face up in confusion.

“Huh?” 

You'd be sure to find him after your round. For now…

“Block A!” The announcer calls out.

One by one, the fighters make their way towards the arena. Each name earning ear shattering cheers. When they finally get to yours, the announcer nearly keels over in surprise. It's then you realized you used your real name. He takes multiple breaths of air, as if fighting to keep the oxygen in his lungs.

“Ladies and gentlemen….We have-we have a pirate only rumored to exist! We have the marines’ very own boogeyman! We have….”

The audience goes silent in anticipation.

“WE HAVE SPARROW D. Y/N!!!!!!”

The crowd erupts in absolute pandemonium. Screaming so loud you can barely hear yourself think. You begin to walk the bridge towards the arena. People are practically throwing themselves into the murky waters below for a better look. 

There's a scowl on your face as you reach the center.

“They always forget the ‘captain,’” you mutter.

You stumble the rest of the way, silver flask in hand. The audience quickly puts two and two together. The infamous Captain Sparrow…Was an inebriated mess.

“HEY! ARE YOU DRUNK!?!”

“WHO LET THE COMPETITORS BRING IN DRINKS!?!”

“GET THIS ALCOHOLIC OFF THE ARENA!”

You pay them no mind. They're the ones who set their expectations so high. If the fools wanted to believe you were some all mighty pirate, let them believe. 

“BEGIN!”

You were immediately surrounded on all sides. No doubt the one to beat you would get an increase to their bounty. A sort of claim to fame. Although some competitors eyed you with scrutiny. 

“This small fry really Sparrow?”

You say nothing, already bored with the competition. If this was the best they had to offer, maybe entering the tournament itself wasn't the right move. You go to take a swig from your flask before it's knocked out of your hands. The tip of a sword held against your neck. 

“If you're who you say you are, then you'll put up a fight.” One of the opponents threatens.

You finally look up at the men around you.

“Is that a challenge? If you're gonna point your sword, then you better be ready to use it.”

One sweep of your sword.

“Waltz.”

And all your opponents were swept out to the waters below.

The crowd shrieks out in excitement. As if they weren't just cursing you out. You begin to stumble your way towards the exit. Damn shame you were out of rum. Maybe that Lucy guy would find you a bottle after all.

Suddenly, the audience lets out gasps. 

“What!?! SOMEONE'S COMING BACK UP!” The announcer shouts.

You turn around to see a burly man haul himself up the platform. The bag on his head falls away, causing another uproar from the audience.

“IT’S THE FIRST DIVISION CAPTAIN SERVING UNDER BLACKBEARD!!! JESUS BURGESS!!!”

He approaches you with the confidence of a man who didn't almost lose. His expression is smug as he sneers down at you. 

“So you are the legendary Sparrow. Who knew you'd finally be seen in a place like this?”

His smile widens as if he'd just gotten a great idea. 

“Say, why don't you forget about the Flame-Flame fruit…And join Blackbeard’s crew!”

You stare at him in utter silence. The cogs in your brain turning while they try to process the offer. It's subtle, the way your laughter bubbles up. Then all at once you're hollering while clutching your stomach.

“Join you lot? The pirates who feed off left overs and scraps?” Your tone is mocking, as if the very idea is ludicrous. 

“I'm nobody's lackey. I'm Captain Sparrow D. Y/n.” You recover from your laughing fit, straightening yourself up. 

“You seem to have forgotten the captain part. But don't worry, I'll make sure you remember it from now on.”

The grin on his face shifts into a scowl as he lunges for you.

“HOW DARE YOU!!!” 

“Waltz!”

You make sure to use more force this time, sending the pirate flying out through the walls of the arena. You sheath your sword and continue back inside the waiting area.

“The winner is Sparrow D. Y/n!”

You figure that's the end of that. So imagine your surprise being greeted by the end of a sword yet again. A tall blonde man? glares down at you. 

“You bastard!” He hissed out.

“While technically true, that's not a nice thing to-” 

“Shut up! Who the hell do you think you are?!? Stealing my rightful glory?!?! You ruined everything for me!!!”

You were regretting entering this tournament more and more. You used your finger to direct the blade away from your neck.

“Glory huh? You sure about that? Because I have no idea who you are.”

He shoves you harshly into the wall. Arm pressing down against your neck this time.

“I’m the Pirate Noble Cavendish. Beauty of the sea. Women throw themselves at me in my presence.”

“Then you should consider being in a boy band, mate.” You said before trying to move.

He only added on more pressure, droning on about his fantasy in the spotlight.

“I'll just have to kill you to regain my image. The man who killed Sparrow. Then people will never forget who I am.” 

Your hand moved little by little towards your holster. Finger ready on the trigger at a moments notice. All you had to do was draw your weapon.

“Heyyyyyy!!!!! Sparrow!! Good job on your match!” A familiar voice called out.

Your grip loosens around your pistol.

The blonde’s hold on you goes slack to see who it is.

“Oh, cabbage is here too? Nice.” Lucy greets.

“IT'S CAVENDISH!” Your assailant screeches before composing himself.

“Never mind. I found a solution to my little problem. If Strawhat isn't here, I'll just take out Sparrow instead.” He explains.

“To dinner or with a gun? I gotta say, one of those options sounds a lot more fun than the other.” You comment.

“Why you-!”

Lucy pulls on Cavendish’s collar. Effectively lifting him off you before tugging him away.

“Quit arguing! The next round is about to begin.”

And as the blonde is being dragged off, you can't help but taunt him a little. 

“P.s. I was talking about the gun.”

“Count your days Sparrow!”

If all your interactions were going to be like this, then you'd better find a secluded space to watch the rest of the matches. A shame that blonde was with Lucy. You would've loved to observe him a little more. 

—---------------------------

Block B was decently entertaining. Especially with that Bartolomeo fellow. You wished the opponents in your block would have lasted half as long. At least you could look forward to the final round. The competitors looked stronger for Block C. Maybe that Lucy guy would be a finalist. 

There were also rumors going around now of a pirate who'd entered. Why he was being targeted, you had no clue. But clearly he'd done something to earn himself a manhunt. If only you could remember the name.

“BLOCK C! BEGIN!”

Bodies were immediately thrown from the arena. You were surprised they managed to fit a giant on there. Size gave him a small advantage over the rest. Then there was the old man and his grandsons. For an actual grandpa, he was spry. And he seemed to be targeting Lucy???

You watched as he chased after the smaller man. Getting stopped and blocked off by another competitor. Lucy himself became cornered. He retracted his arm in a punch, stretching back further than humanly possible. 

“Gum-Gum Pistol!”

Gum-gum?

Wasn't there a rookie with that devil fruit?

What was his name?

There was a screech from somewhere above you. Followed by the heavy footsteps of guards. The scream repeated until you could just make it out.

“STRAWHAT!”

Ah, that was his name. 

Strawhat Luffy. One of the worst generation captains. He kept taking out opponents one by one, opting not to use his devil fruit anymore. He must've still wanted to keep some semblance of anonymity. Although he couldn't help but throw out the occasional kick and punch that defied the natural laws of physics.

In his short time out in the arena he'd managed to: tame a wild bull, take out a warrior from Elbaf, and be one of the last two men standing. His fist collided directly against the old man’s. The resulting impact sent everyone from the audience unconscious.

A perfect clash of Conquerer’s Haki.

A wide grin broke out across your face.

You can't remember the last time someone piqued your interest. And as he inflated his haki covered fist, you didn't think anyone would ever captivate it as completely again. Maybe you'd let him win the tournament if you faced off. Just to see what he'd do from there.

“The winner of Block C: Lucy!!!!”

You decide to explore for a bit since the arena wouldn't be ready for another fifteen minutes. You tug down the brim of your hat to hide your face. Strange. There's no sign of the injured competitors. You don't have much time to dwell on it though. Various shouts starting to echo through the corridors.

“GET BACK HERE!!!!”

“STRAWHAT!!!! WE NEED TO TALK!!!”

“MR. STRAWHAT!!!”

You duck behind a hallway. The sound of the stampede draws closer. Good news, you're not the center of attention anymore. Bad news, they were about to put your source of entertainment on a skewer. 

Before you can rationalize against it, you stick out your hand. The feeling of fabric brushes against your fingertips and you pull as hard as you can. You hold down Strawhat, covering his mouth with your hand. He wasted no time struggling against your grip.

“Shh. They're about to pass by.” You whispered.

He stops squirming, relaxing into you with a sigh. Sure enough, his pursuers run straight past the two of you. When you're sure they won't come back, you release him. (He still peeks cautiously from behind the corner.)

“You're really popular today. I almost feel bad keeping you to myself.” You tease.

He lets out an exasperated noise, clutching at his head.

“Don't tell me you wanna fight me too!!!”

You wave him off with a laugh.

“Not really my style to jump someone. Besides, you're amusing to watch. Wouldn't want to break you, now would I?”

Your words carry a certain undertone to them. One he absolutely does not pick up on. Throwing all flirtatious notions out the window.

“You wouldn't break me. I'm made of rubber, so attacks just bounce right off me.”

As if to prove his point, he flexes his bicep. 

He's got a boyish charm to him. All smiles and not an ounce of hesitation behind his eyes. You can tell he's one of those go-getter types. It'd do him well in the New World. 

“You know, I'm really glad you beat the crap out of that Burgess guy.” His voice snaps you from your thoughts.

“And why's that?”

“I don't want someone like that win Ace’s fruit.”

Ace? Not Fire-Fist. He knew him on a personal level. Perhaps someone who was still left in Whitebeard's crew. You wouldn't know. You didn't exactly keep up with what happened at Marineford. Nevertheless, you thought it was admirable he wanted to preserve the image of someone who was important to him.

“You really want it that bad huh?”

“Yeah. As long as it doesn't fall into the wrong hands.”

You liked honest people like him. Easy to deceive. They were always the most loyal too. You begin to walk away, trusting he'll do the same and find a better hiding place.

“Till next time, Strawhat.” You call out behind you.

“See ya!”

When the final round is about to begin, right after Block D, you're mildly surprised not to see Strawhat anywhere. You finally catch sight of a golden helmet. But you could tell just by the way he held himself now. You check your compass to confirm your suspicions.

Sure enough, the needle is spinning around in the opposite direction. You were no fool. The man in front of you was the furthest from Strawhat. He was taller, blonde hair peaking out from under his helmet. Not to mention his outfit was different. A blue tail coat in place of the Hawaiian button up. 

“You're not Strawhat, are you?”

He stiffens at your question.

“Why do you wanna know?”

And his voice, it definitely wasn't Strawhat. He seemed almost defensive. Protective of the real Strawhat. You figured being honest wouldn't hurt. 

“He’s a very intriguing individual. I would have loved to get to know him better. But seeing as he's gone, I have no reason to continue fighting in this tournament.” You explained. 

“You don't want the devil fruit?” He asked in disbelief.

“I want what every pirate wants: freedom to live how I want to. No skin off my back if I get the fruit or not.”

He hesitates for a second before speaking again.

“The, uh, real Lucy wanted me to hand this off to you.”

He passes on a bottle of sake to you. Not quite rum, but it'd get the job done. You're surprised Strawhat kept his word. It makes you grin from under the brim of your hat.

“A good man that one is. Don't worry about me, I'll find my own way out. Have fun.”

—-------------------------------------

You aren't quite sure how things ended up like this. One minute you're searching for your next dose of fun, the next, Dressrosa is being destroyed by its king. Out of all days, it had to be the one when you were visiting the island.

You were just trying to find a boat. Not even halfway to the docks when a mass of strings shot out in front of you. They surrounded the entire island, caging everyone inside. Were…were they moving!?!

“Oh buggar,” you muttered under your breath. 

You had no choice but to back away to safety. Watching as the string sliced everything in its path. The entire kingdom was in an uproar. Toys transforming back into people. Buildings shifting and moving around. Stampedes running back and forth, not knowing which way to flee. 

You headed towards the center of the city. Where everyone else seemed to clutter. You finally had a clue what was going on as Doflamingo was thrown out from above the castle. Strawhat right behind him in some new form. 

He was fighting with everything he had. The citizens around you were cheering for him. For their freedom. And you understood the situation you were in. You'd all be crushed if Doflamingo wasn't stopped.

And Strawhat was just the man to do it.

He gave a final punch, sending the warlord flying into the cliffside. Strawhat deflated right after, falling into the center of town. There were murmurs around you. People hesitant to celebrate just yet.

It looked like he won…until Doflamingo removed one of his arms from the rubble. Then the other. The citizens screamed out in terror. Once again running in the opposite direction. None of them sparing a second glance towards Strawhat. 

If he truly was the only one who could get you out of this mess, then you'd make a gamble. You approached him through the frenzied crowd. Making sure to keep your eye on the warlord above as he healed himself. 

“Strawhat,” you called out as you kneeled down next to him.

He feebly raised his head, recognition flashing in his eyes. Then relief. Poor thing could barely see straight.

“Can you still fight?”

He tried to get up, only for his arm to give out under him. You were quick to steady him from falling. Letting him put his full weight on you.

“Need…ten minutes,” he struggled to get out.

“Ten minutes? You can promise me you'll be able to win in ten minutes. Not a second more?”

His gaze sharpened, becoming more determined.

“Ten minutes. Then my-my haki will be recharged.”

It's a very risky gamble. And you had no plans of dying anytime soon. Ten minutes exactly was a long shot, especially if you ended up dead anyways. But for whatever reason, you trusted him. 

“Done. But I expect rum this time. None of that light weight stuff. Got it?” 

Against all odds, he laughs. It's every bit as exhausted as he is. And it reassures you that much more.

“Sure thing Sparrow.”

You're not sure who grabs him and moves him out of the way, but you're beyond grateful for one less distraction. You draw your sword in anticipation of what's to come. You'd never brand yourself as a hero. There was just a mutual goal between you and the kingdom of Dressrosa right now. The goal being not seeing those pearly white gates. 

There's a feeling of dread as Doflamingo descends down towards you. Heavenly Demon they called him? It was very fitting. He practically loomed over you. The red glint from his sunglasses didn't help either.

He looked surprised to see you standing here instead of Strawhat. Judging from the way his smile widened, it's a welcome turn of events. You don't let it faze you. 

“Can't say I love what you did with the place, but something about it screams Doflamingo,” you comment. 

You weren't delusional enough to believe you could beat him. But stall him for ten minutes? That you could do. It was best to keep him talking for as long as possible.

“Captain Sparrow D. Y/n. You finally make your appearance after so long in the shadows. And in my kingdom no less.” He sneered down at you.

“Finally someone who doesn't forget the ‘captain.’ You know, if you weren't a murderous sociopath or evil dictator, we could be great friends.”

You can see him shift his fingers, thin strings following the movement. He takes a step forward. You stand your ground.

“What's someone like you doing protecting Strawhat?” 

He's trying to do the same as you. Stall for time. Although his reason is very different from yours. Trying to analyze the best way to attack.

“I’ve got a lot invested in his survival right now. He's a very interesting man, wouldn't you say so?” You tried to bait.

“I hope you have some return on that investment. Strawhat’s a dead man walking.”

It doesn't goad him to strike first like you wanted. Instead, saying something that has your blood running cold.

“How about we make a trade? I'll let him live if you give me the compass.”

You freeze for barely a second, but it's enough. Far too late to open your mouth and deny its existence. 

“Don't try to play stupid with me. I know all about Tia Dalma’s compass… and what it does. So do we have a deal?”

You'd sooner crush it beneath your boot than ever hand it over to someone like him. 

“A compass that points to what you want most, or Strawhat's life? You've really got me in a bind here. Do you think his life is really worth that much? Or is the compass worth that little?”

You pretend to think on it, stalling for a few more precious seconds.

“I'll get back to you on that.”

It was effectively the straw that broke the camel’s back. He slashes his hand down, sending a wave of string at you. You dodge to the side, raising your sword up to block his kick.

Damn, this guy was fast.

Behind you came another onslaught of thread from what appeared to be a clone. They sliced down your back as you made a hasty escape. The former warlord let out a cackle. His clone joining him at his side. The ground beneath you beginning to morph into more string.

He was using his awakening. 

“Buggar,” you mumbled as the two Doflamingos charged towards you.

Just like last time, you blocked one with your sword and ducked under the second attack. The ground receded into itself before jutting out in a spike. Your reflexes were better this time. Jumping towards a building and stumbling towards the rooftop. You unfortunately didn't make it very far.

“I wonder…” He started as he flickered his fingers. The building crumpling into a heap of threads from under you.

“What type of devil fruit did you eat? It'd make it easier to find a use for it after I take it from your corpse.”

You find it in you to manage a smirk.

“What makes you think I ate one?”

It makes him falter. Just enough time for you to hop onto the next building.

“Or maybe I did. Maybe I ate the Op-Op fruit. That's two things now you can never have.”

You can see the veins on his forehead bulge.

“Strike a nerve, did I?”

The ground gives way completely. At least ten buildings ahead of you sharing the same fate as the previous ones. Doflamingo is diving towards you, his clone following suit. Right where you want them.

“Waltz!” 

You swing your sword with as much force as you can muster. The slash cuts the clone straight through. It falls away back into thread. The real Doflamingo, however, isn't so fortunate. Your attack tearing up the flesh on his arm. 

And just when you think you might have a moment of reprieve, he forces his arm through the pain. His hand wrapping tightly around your throat. You're suspended in midair. He could snap your neck or slam your skull on the pavement if he so desired.

You kick your legs to no avail. The little air in your throat being squeezed out. You would not die here. You still had an ace up your sleeve. 

“I expected much more from you. But you're a weakling just like every other pirate.”

He applied more pressure onto your neck. You could see your vision start to get spotty.

“You're no devil in the shadows. No boogeyman hiding in the dark. You're human. And humans…Can be killed.”

You don't really have a choice. It's either use it or die. You grip his arm back. A defiant look in your eye. You open your mouth, prepared to use your attack, when a shout interrupts you.

“MINGOOOOOO!”

Doflamingo snaps his head in the direction the voice comes from.

It's Strawhat. 

You take the confusion he caused as an opportunity to break free. A strange sensation overtakes the warlord’s arm. He glances down at you in surprise. Vision almost distorted as you somehow kick yourself free. The next instant, you're a few feet away from him.

“Remember this day as the day you ALMOST caught Captain Sparrow!”

And with that, Luffy charges at him.

You don't get to see much of the fight, having been teleported out of the way. You're on a different rooftop when you realized what's happened. You'd been moved to safety. What a lucky day. Your eyes make contact with another pirate’s. This one bloodied up with his arm practically hanging off.

“Rough Day?”

“Shut it.”

—-------------------------------

It feels like a miracle when Strawhat lands the final punch. Everyone holds their breath as Doflamingo lays in a crater. With no sign of movement, the civilians cheer for their newfound freedom.

The days seem to blur together after that. Celebrations, avoiding the marines, setting sail with all the pirates who fought to free Dressrosa. You only stuck around as long as you did because your compass refused to change its course. 

Though you don't mind it all that much. Watching as several Captains take an oath to become part of Strawhat's ‘fleet.’ You're pleasantly surprised when he not only shows visible discomfort at their offer, but also downright rejects it. His own crew doesn't seem the least bit surprised by his actions. Taking it upon themselves to drink the massive cup of sake.

The other captains gape in shock as he explains himself. He didn't want to hide behind numbers to get his way. He wanted to rely on his own strength and his crew. Somehow, he manages to bring it back to friendship. How if he really needs help, the other pirates will have his back. Equals instead of subordinates. 

Ugh, so sweet it could give you cavities.

Then they go around and throw it back in his face. Taking the oath anyway. Bartolemello notices the lack of sake in your hand, pushing a full cup towards you.

“C’mon! Don't you wanna pledge your loyalty to Strawhat?”

You scowl at the very idea.

“I'm nobody's little groupie. If you want to worship the ground he walks on, be my guest.”

It's something Luffy happens to overhear. He remembers you saying something similar to Burgess. He's glad someone here is still sane. (Not kissing up to him as a way to show gratitude.) You have a bottle of some kind of alcohol in your hand. Same as when he first saw you. 

You stumble your way towards his direction and he wonders how you don't topple over. Even during the tournament you were off balance.

“Why do you walk like that when you fight?” He questions when you're near enough. 

It catches the attention of his first mate, who goes on to give an explanation before you can open your mouth.

“It's a fighting technique. People let their guard down when they assume their opponent is drunk off their ass.”

Luffy nods along like he gets it. Although you're quick to shut down the idea with a murmur.

“Yeah. Totally a technique…and not a substance problem.”

“Wait. YOU'RE ACTUALLY DRUNK?!?” Zoro exclaimed while Luffy found himself laughing.

“You're funny!”

You tilt your head up and smirk.

“Part of my charm.”

You stick by him and his crew after that. Eating and drinking at your leisure without disruptions. The calm before the storm. You keep checking your compass to see if it'll change. It doesn't, which is strange. You're hardly ever on the same course for long. 

There must be something more to Strawhat that holds the key to your boredom. Something about him that'll keep you on your toes for the foreseeable future. He seems nice enough not to shoo you away. His alliance partner on the other hand, eyed you with caution.

Noticing you constantly popping the lid open and catching a glance at the needle. It spins around a few times before settling in a direction not north. He's right to be distrusting. You're a person of legend. Not much known about you except the wreckage you leave behind.

“How do you expect to sail with a broken compass?” He asked after a while.

“The compass isn't broken. It doesn't work like a traditional one,” you begin to explain.

“It leads you towards the thing you want most in the moment. Great for someone like me who isn't interested in treasures. Dangerous in the hands of someone like you, savvy?”

Dangerous in the hands of someone cold and calculating. Someone who could decide they wanted destruction. 

“And what exactly is it leading you to?”

You can tell he doesn't believe you. So you decide a visual demonstration will cement the idea.

“What i want most…Is fun. For some reason-”

You move and the head of the compass points towards Luffy. 

“That's in Strawhat’s direction.”

At the sound of his name, Luffy turns towards you from his plate. 

“So far you've lived up to my expectations. Hope you don't mind if I tag along a little longer.” You address directly.

“Absolutely not! We don't need someone like you ruining our plans!” Trafalgar shuts down.

“Is he always this high strung?” You ask Luffy before returning your attention to Law.

“Mate, we're pirates. The world's at our fingertips and we answer to no one. What's the point in living if there's not a little risk?”

Luffy's eyes practically light up. You remind him a little of Shanks with the way you embody freedom. So he decides he wouldn't mind it if you tagged along with him and his crew. You did help out with Doflamingo, after all. He didn't see the problem as long as you pulled your weight.

It doesn't go unnoticed by his crew how he calls you Sparrow. Not some messed up version of it or calling you by an attribute you have. Maybe it's because you'd made a memorable impression. Or you'd earned his respect in such a short time. 

“You might actually be the first person whose name Luffy remembers.” The sniper commented.

“Don't know how someone could mess up Sparrow. It'd be an achievement. But my friends call me Y/n.” You offer.

Luffy butchers your first name immediately. You cackle along with the rest of his crew at the blunder. 

“Hey! You're laughing!” He pouts.

“You should just stick with Sparrow, and I'll stick with Strawhat.”

“What?!? I thought we were friends!”

You smirk from under the brim of your hat. 

“We could be. If you’ve got another bottle of rum lying around for me.” Your tone is playful, bordering flirtatious.

“I'm sure they're stocked somewhere below deck.” He responds.

You decide to push things a bit further, giving his cheek a light pat.

“Be a good boy and go get one for me then.”

He frowns, but it's more annoyed instead of mad.

“I don't take orders from anyone either,” he says stubbornly.

“You owe me one. My face is on a wanted poster thanks to you.”

“Is that so?” He thinks about it for a second before bowing his head down.

“Sorry to hear that.”

“DON'T GIVE IN LUFFY!” His sniper chastises. 

A little later, Strawhat approaches you. By then the noise had died down and most of the pirates had drunk themselves out cold. You're once again explaining how your compass works. He's listening intently, and not at all in Luffy fashion, asked a rather intelligent question.

“Could somebody really find the One Piece with that?”

“Theoretically, if that's what they wanted most.” You answer.

“So if I touched it right now, it'd show me the way?”

“Is that what you want most?”

It's a test. And he passes with flying colors.

“Not right now. Getting back the rest of my crew is more important. Besides, using that thing would be cheating. And I wanna become King of the Pirates on my own.”

Honest to a fault, but not naive. He's also a good person. There weren't many of those left.

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

You're starting to understand more and more why your compass was solely trained on Strawhat. Not just anybody had enough guts to barge into an emperor’s territory. Let alone steal a Road Ponyglyph from one. It's exhilarating to think about.

Of course, he did almost kill you and his crew through starvation. Which was NOT the thrill you were looking for. 

You'd only taken a nap. A measly hour, but that was all it took to create the foul concoction before you. Strawhat had presented the pot to his crew with pride. A sea food boil, he'd called it. The broth was purple like poison. The food undercooked, yet somehow overcooked. The smell was enough to kill.

“You find that in Davey Jones’ Locker?” You questioned.

“Nope. I made it. Eat up!” He pushed the pot towards you with a smile.

“I'd rather not.”

“What? It's not that bad.”

From behind him, the skeleton took a cautious spoonful of the boil. Immediately he began gagging before heaving over.

“Your skeleton just died for a second time.” You pointed out.

“Brook’s being dramatic.”

He waved off before he tried some himself. Face scrunching up in disgust as he spat it out. He chose that moment to reveal he'd used up all the ship’s stock. With no other option, the crew split up to see if they could find anything. You included.

You let out a gutted cry a few minutes after separating. 

“What happened!?! What'd you find!?!” The reindeer asked, cowering behind the navigator. 

“The rum’s gone!!!! What happened to the rum!?!?” You cried, sinking down onto your knees in despair.

Were you being dramatic? Yes. But if you were going to starve, you'd rather die doing what you loved. 

“I used it up. Sometimes Sanji uses wine when he cooks and I wanted to see what would happen.” Strawhat explained.

You have him an anguished look. Opening your mouth to speak and having nothing come out.

“Get used to it. Luffy does things like this all the time.” The navigator said in exasperation.

“But the rum-!”

“I know, I know.”

If almost killing his crew wasn't bad enough, Strawhat nearly killed himself a second time from eating the scales of a toxic fish. You couldn't really blame him. He was so hungry he was trying to eat the doctor. And the rabbit. And at some point your hat? (He thought the feather was a bird.)

Despite it all, you were never bored for long. Germa 66 made an appearance. (Who were apparently the masterminds behind Blackleg’s disappearance.) The island was made of confectionaries. And there was a wedding to crash. 

Everything seemed to be going well. As well as they could go when infiltrating an emperor's territory. But when Strawhat was finally face to face with his cook, things took a turn. Being the sap he was, he approached his cook with open arms. He'd told him how happy he was to see the blonde okay. How now they could leave and have things go back to normal.

But Blackleg wasn't receptive to it. 

He tried shooing Luffy away. When it didn't work, he resorted to violence. He landed hit after hit with no sign of stopping. Not until Strawhat would agree to let him go. He didn't, of course. You were right about Luffy being loyal to a fault.

The navigator was screaming at Blackleg to stop. Screaming for her captain to fight back. Screaming for you to do something. It wasn't your place to intervene, but you didn't exactly want Strawhat to die. If he did, then you'd lose your heading. (Your entertainment.)

You didn't think the cook would go that far. Seems you were wrong. He was charging up a powerful attack. No longer willing to pull his kicks. He lunged forward with every intent to put an end to the fight. There was a loud impact. The hilt of your sword blocking his leg from reaching Luffy.

“I think you've made your point, yeah?” 

You could have sworn you saw a brief glimpse of relief. Although it was quickly masked by a scowl.

“Get out of my way,” he spat through clenched teeth.

“Does it make you feel big and strong to beat on someone who won't fight back?”

He looked like he was fighting back tears. Glancing over your shoulder at his wounded captain. It wasn't hard to put two and two together. Not when the rest of Germa were peaking their heads out of the carriage.

“Or is nothing else working to drive him away?” You made sure to lower your voice. 

“I don't know who you are, but you have no right to get involved with this.”

“You see, that's the funny thing.” You draw your pistol before he can even blink. You won't shoot it. But it does wonders to prove your point.

“I don't need anyone's permission to choose how I live. I do what I want. I take what I want. I'm a pirate, savvy?”

Your words ring true to him, despite not knowing it. He was a pirate. Not anymore. His future wasn't his anymore. But if that meant keeping his captain and his friends safe, then so be it. 

“Then take Luffy and get out of here…Please.” 

He's a softie just like his captain. You wonder what it is about Strawhat that attracts good people. 

“He won't follow anyone’s orders but his own. And you know that.” You shut down.

He doesn't say anything back. There isn't much you or the navigator can do besides watch him go. You can only listen as Strawhat makes one final promise before he's out of ear shot. He won't eat or move. Not until he has his cook back. 

He won't give up on what he wants.

You can see Big Mom's army in the distance, marching towards the three of you. There's far too many. This isn't a fight any of you could win. Nami tries to get Luffy to move. He refuses. 

A man of his word. 

You decide this is where you part ways. You're not about to be punished for another man's pride. This wasn't like Dressrosa where it was fight or die. You were free to leave. Free to fly. So you did. 

“Sorry. I didn't sign up for this.” You apologize before beginning to walk away.

“So you're just going to leave!?! You won't even try to help us!?!” The navigator accuses.

You don't get the chance to defend yourself.

“Nami. Let them go. This isn't their fight.” Strawhat scolds.

He looks at you like he can see your very being. Then he gives a knowing smile. One that catches you off guard.

“Besides…Y/n will be back. I know it.”

You feel a heaviness in your chest. One you haven't felt in a long time. Guilt. He finally says your name right, and you fear you'll carry that with you when he's found dead. You push through it, casting one last glance back.

“Don't count on it. Good luck."

—----------------------------

Something's wrong with you. There's gotta be. Here you are before a decent ship, ready to be untethered and set sail. Yet you're hesitating. Sparrow doesn't hesitate. Your compass spins around erratically, indecisive. You don't know what you want. 

That's not entirely true. You know what you want, but you don't know if you're ready to let go of it yet. He just had to smile at you. Had to say he trusted you. What gave him the right to see the good in people?

Surely he was just speaking in hypotheticals. Something to calm down the navigator. He didn't mean it. But the more you tried to rationalize against it, the more your reasoning unraveled. Strawhat was an honest and loyal man. You knew that to be true. So when he said he believed you'd come back, he meant it.

You didn't realize you'd already started walking. The needle of your compass set in a direction. This is just protecting your investment. Nothing more. 

It wasn't too hard finding the dungeon. Or dungeon book. The chaos was familiar and welcomed. So very Strawhat. The room was up in flames. Big Boss Jimbei was there trying to set everything in the book free. And Strawhat was about halfway done tearing off his hands. 

You shot a few rounds at some unsuspecting guards. Stopping them from sneaking up on the former warlord. He gives you a nod, silently thanking you. Strawhat notices you soon after. Looking at you the way a puppy looks at its owner. The heaviness is back in your chest. Weighing it down in a way that feels good now. Warm. His trust hadn't wavered. 

“I knew you'd come back!”

It makes your face hot. You hide it beneath the brim of your hat, pushing down the softness of your expression. 

“If I let you die, I lose my heading. And it'd be very troublesome to find something new right now.” You justify. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say,” he waves off. Like he knows you're not telling the entire truth.

—---------------------------

Somehow, things keep going Strawhat's way. You think some higher being up there must be looking out for him. There has to be for him to find another worst generation captain to ally with. And after almost dying for a third time, he'd managed to get his cook back. Fate is on this man’s side…And you couldn't be more excited to see where it takes him.

The wedding was absolute chaos. The aftermath was even worse. If somebody would've told you a few months ago Big Mom would be chasing after you on a sentient cloud, you probably would have believed them. But to be chased for someone else's benefit? You'd have called them insane. 

You kept slashing and slashing at that damn cloud to no avail. You were thankful for Nami’s quick thinking, supercharging the cloud to electrocute Big Mom. Seems the entire crew had insane luck. 

You didn't know if Strawhat would last up against Katakuri. But the more time you spent on his ship, the more faith you had in him. The same trust he'd given to you. You'd forgotten what it was like working as a team. Fighting against a common enemy just to do it all over again. 

As planned, he'd come back. Not that you were worried he wouldn't. He was battered beyond belief. Worse than his fight with Doflamingo. But he accomplished what he wanted. His cook fussing over him before handing him over to Chopper.

It all worked out in the end. It always did for Luffy. Although the escape was a rough one. You thought it was a little funny how Blackleg immediately got to cooking. An eager Strawhat trying to follow him to the kitchen.

“So, who's our new guest?” The blonde questioned. 

“Sparrow.” Luffy answered, which you were quick to correct.

“Captain Sparrow!”

“Same thing.”

You flashed him a small scowl before returning your attention to the cook. He looked unbelievably happy. A pep in his step as he began to gather ingredients. He belonged out in the sea, and he would embrace it with open arms as long as Strawhat was his captain. 

“Guess you're a pirate after all,” you commented.

He didn't even try to hide his smile.

“Guess so. Any meal preferences?” He asked. 

“Anything that pairs well with rum.”

“Got it.”

Luffy watched the interaction with a grin. You really fit in here. He thought about asking you to join his crew. Especially when you'd come back for him and Nami. But you weren't the type to follow someone else's orders, and he respected that.

Still, you got along with most of his crew. You were a strong fighter. A great strategist when you were put on the spot. And your bounty was over 2 billion, but who's counting? 

So while Sanji’s preparing food for everyone, he goes to bother you. The only one who wasn't preoccupied. He crouches down by your side, invading your personal space.

“Is it still pointing at me?” He asks.

You open up your compass, and he watches in fascination as the needle points directly at him. It's not his first time seeing it. Yet that doesn't make it any less cool.

“Seems like it,” you respond.

“Good. You really came through for us, you know?”

You swear that damn smile never left his face unless he was fighting. He's got not a care in the world. You envy it a little. He's too trusting for his own good.

“You should believe what they say about me. I'm unreliable and impulsive. The second my compass swings in the opposite direction, I'll be gone. Off to a new adventure.” You warn, just as Bege had done a few days earlier.

“You haven't heard the stories, have ya kid?” He asked Strawhat.

“What stories?”

“Sparrow is a flake. They'll be your best friend as long as you have what they want. The second you don't, they turn tail and leave. You really okay working with someone like that?” 

You understood the skepticism. This was a risky job and any margin of error would be everyone's downfall. But Luffy vouches for you, and it makes you sick.

“Of course I trust I them! Sparrow came back for us when we were captured!”

You try not to let it show as Beigi sends you a doubtful look.

“Guilty as charged.” You played off, raising your hands.

Trust is a fickle thing, you've come to learn. Being stranded on an island for three days really proved the point. So you don't know how to react when someone gives it to you wholeheartedly. 

“But you came back for us.” Luffy defends.

You've told him he's nothing more than entertainment to you. Something temporary until the next thing catches your eye. And still he trusts you. It's so sad you could almost laugh. But your softening heart beats your bitter thoughts to your mouth. 

“For you, jolly little sailor,” you correct.

He decides he likes the way that nickname sounds. Not mocking or degrading, but sugary sweet. He prefers it over you calling him Strawhat. It makes him lean a little closer into your personal space.

“I miss my crew,” you admit quietly.

He reminds you of what you left behind. The people who believed you would become the greatest pirate anyone's ever seen. You see the way he interacts with his crew, and you can't help but think of yours. You'd forgotten what working with a team was like until you began following him around.

You miss the chaos on deck. The constant chatter. Irritating your first mate and making questionable decisions. For the first time, it's not the alcohol that makes you honest. It's something else. 

What's the word?

Ah yes.

The very same that’d been running through your mind lately.

Trust.

“You had a crew?” Luffy questioned. 

“I did. I wasn't a very good captain to them, but they stuck around anyways.”

For all the hell you put them through, they'd stuck around. Your second crew anyway. The one you'd built up after your trust had been shattered the first time.

“I figured they'd be better off without me. I left them the ship stocked with supplies and left.”

You convinced yourself it was a mercy. Who wanted a captain that drank all the time and chased treasure on a whim? You always put yourself first, even when you tried not to. It's what was best. (Though you knew what it really was. Leaving before they had a chance to betray you just like before)

“The one I left in charge, Turner, he's a promising man. A good man. He's just got one flaw.”

“What's that?” 

Luffy was listening intently. Quiet for the first time since you'd known him. Not antsy in his seat, but patient.

“He fell victim to one of life's greatest curses. He fell in love with a young lass. And everybody knows love’s a weakness waiting to be exploited.” You explained.

From the corner of your eye, you could see his brow furrow in disagreement.

“Love's not a weakness. If you don't have someone to fight for, then what's the point? Me and my crew are stronger from it. We trust each other, and that's more than enough.” 

“You sound just like him. A fool with a bleeding heart. He'd throw everything away if she just asked him to. But she'd never ask that of him. Know why? Because she loves him. And so the cycle repeats. Life's cruelest trick.” You know you sounded bitter. But you'd seen it one too many times.

What people would sacrifice for their lover’s happiness. 

You'd never let that be you. Even if you did fancy someone, you'd never let them change you. 

“You ever been in love?” You questioned.

“Not really. Hancock keeps asking me to marry her, but I'm not interested in that stuff. What about you? Is there someone waiting for you?” 

You snort at the idea. You suppose it's a courtesy to return the question. Although you're sure you made your answer clear with your whole spiel. 

“The sea is my one true love. Vast and free. It can be as calm as a summer’s day, or as unforgiving as a woman’s scorn. There's beauty in the unpredictable. Don't you think?” You say, tilting your head up to see him better. 

In that moment, you looked so carefree. So breathtaking in your aloof lifestyle. No rules or regulations. Just you and the sea. Luffy's heart begins to beat a little faster in his chest. You don't follow after anything. You only use your compass to chase what you want. 

It hits him then. Really hits him. He doesn't have something you want. He is what you want. And maybe he's starting to want you too. You're reliable when it counts. And despite what you think of yourself, you were a good captain. You did love. Because only a good captain who loved their crew, would know when they needed to step up or let go. 

Maybe he'd be something for you to hold onto this time.

—-------------------------

Like most things Strawhat related tend to go, the ride to Wano was hectic. You clung on tightly to the mast as the ship ascended up a waterfall. The rest of the crew was in similar shape. All except Strawhat, whose laughter rang out from the figurehead. Again, you envied him. Just when you thought things were over, the ship was being sucked into a giant whirlpool. 

Blackleg opted to save the women first. (Which you respected.) The reindeer and skeleton followed suit. All that was left were you and Strawhat. 

“I don't think I can carry anyone else!” He shouted above the crashing waves.

“I can take care of myself! Just go!” You reassured.

Sanji looked towards his captain for confirmation. When he got it, he took off with the others. Kicking through the air until they reached land. All the while, you and Luffy continued to be tossed around the ship. He stood next to you, unfazed by the sudden turn of events. 

“Okay! Let's ride this thing out!” He cheered.

He was crazy. But you'd gotten this far. Might as well embrace it. You pulled him close to you, bracing your legs. 

“Hold on to me and don't let go!” You instructed.

He wrapped his arm tightly around you, keeping one hand on his hat. You focused your attention on the shore. The waves beginning to warp. You just needed one clear shot and you could get out of this mess. 

“What about the ship?!?” Luffy called out. 

“I’ve got it!”

And as if the universe were mocking you, you were hit by a huge wave of seawater. Your strength immediately zapped from your body.

“I, uh, don't got it anymore.”

Instead of being met with disappointment, he only gave you a reassuring smile. 

“It's fine. Things’ll work out.”

You sure hoped so. Your vision going black as the ship tipped over and sunk.

—------------------------------

You were surprised when you came too. You figured you would have ended up drowning. But like Strawhat said, things worked out. You washed up on the shores of Wano. No sign of Strawhat or the Sunny. To make matters worse, your pistol was drenched. You'd have to find more gunpowder. 

You make your way towards a town. The people there sent you odd looks. You're sure stood out like a sore thumb here. It would be wise to take up a disguise of some kind. Then again, you could always say you were a tourist. 

Right as you approached a vendor, the sky seemed to darken. You could feel it before you saw it. Something big was coming. Cracks of electricity filled the air. Your skin was prickling. You looked up and froze.

There was a serpent in the sky. No, not a serpent. A dragon. It didn't take a genius to figure out who it was. Kaido, King of Beasts. It suited him, unbelievably so. You were actually trembling. This was the man Strawhat and Trafalgar wanted to beat? 

It'd take one hell of a miracle because right now, their chances didn't look so good. 

You nearly keeled over in shock as a small body collided against the dragon. Immediate recognition coursed through you. You'd seen that person before. That familiar bulked up form. 

Strawhat was fighting Kaido.

Never a dull moment with that one. You cringe as the emperor knocks him out with a single swing of his club. The worst part? Kaido was drunk off his ass. He wasn't even trying. 

You fought the urge to run over. It wouldn't do any good to expose yourself now. You knew he was crazy, but to outright challenge an emperor? The man had a death wish. You hoped for his sake he'd be imprisoned instead of executed.

Under normal circumstances, you would have cut your losses and left. But you were in too deep now. In for a penny, in for a pound, they always say. So when the skies finally cleared and Kaido slank back into his hole, you forced yourself to continue on. Bartering for gunpowder from a still shaken vendor.

You masked your face beneath your hat and tried to gather information over the following days. The people here were suffering. Counting on some old prophecy from 20 years ago to save them. Yet whispers of a potential uprising were silenced by Kaido’s Beast Pirates.

The more you asked around, the more attention you brought on yourself. It didn't help that weapons were forbidden for civilians. You should've been smarter about it. Not worried about Strawhat and his crew.

You sat down to grab a drink. Something to take the edge off. You didn't even notice the approaching officers. Not until they were directly behind you, a gun pointed at your back.

“Just having a drink. Not a crime last I checked,” you mumbled.

“You're coming with us, Sparrow!” One of them commanded.

You wondered how you were recognized so easily. Then you remembered you had a wanted poster now. It wasn't hard to pick you out from a crowd. You got up without making a fuss. Paying your tab before your arms were forced behind your back. You decided fighting wasn't worth the energy. Not unless you really needed to.

They brought you to a rather high class building. High class for your taste at least. You didn't usually seek out brothels. The pirates forced you on your knees before a frumpy looking man. Their shogun, you presumed. 

“Sparrow D. Y/n. What a wonderful surprise.” He beamed down at you.

His gaze was predatory. As if he'd just found some golden ticket. He was slimy in every sense of the word. You'd gathered enough from the civilians to know so. 

“Your reputation precedes you. I'll tell you what, I've got an offer I think you'll like.”

Your expression remains unimpressed.

“Work for me. You'll have riches beyond your wildest dreams. Bodies to warm your bed every night. And nobody would ever dare defy you. Whaddya say?”

You pretended to be interested before bursting his bubble. 

“Join a mutineer who has a history of mutiny. I do wonder how that'll play out. I think I'm gonna have to pass. Besides, I'm not a lap dog.”

You meet his eyes with a defiant grin.

“I won't lick the boot of a cowering fool just to please his ego.”

He scowls at you. Pulling out a sword and holding the blade against your neck. You don't flinch, much to his dismay.

“You won't join my crew? Fine. But you're not leaving until you give us the compass.”

Buggar. Somebody else who knew your little secret.

“The compass? What ever could you mean?”

“Don't play dumb! Where is it!?!” He snapped at you.

“Mmm, you're gonna have to be more specific than that. I've got many compasses.”

“THE COMPASS THAT SHOWS YOU WHATEVER YOU WANT!”

“It's-” you tried reaching in your pocket for it, but you feel nothing.

It's then you realized it was probably knocked out during your arrival to Wano. In other words…

“Gone.”

Your day just got a hell of a lot worse. At least it hadn't fallen into the wrong hands. Just into the sea.

“I don't believe you. Search them,” Orichi orders the Beast Pirates.

That was your cue to leave. You swipe your leg in a circle, effectively knocking over the closest officers to you. You take advantage of their shock and make a break for it. Jumping out the window and stumbling away as the guards gave chase.

“Had to bind my hands. They're not sea prism though. Just my lucky day.”

You concentrate, slipping your wrist from the cuffs. Then the other. When all is said and done, you're a few blocks away on top of a building. Your stamina is significantly low. You'd have to work on that for the big fight.

—-----------------------------

M E A N W H I L E  I N  U D O N

“There's something peaking out of your pocket, Mr. Strawhat. I've been meaning to ask you about it.” Hyougorou pointed out.

“There is?”

Luffy reaches in his pocket and feels something smooth and round. He eyes the item in surprise.

“Woah! It's Y/n’s compass.”

It's the first time he's gotten a proper look at it. There's special engravings in a language he can't understand on the cover. The needle spins around in a circle rapidly.

“It must've gotten broken somehow.” The old comments.

Luffy shakes his head.

“It's not a regular compass. It points towards what you want most.”

Yet for whatever reason, it couldn't pinpoint what he wanted. Spinning around in no particular direction without stopping. Did he even want anything? He wanted Kaido to be defeated, but it's not like the compass could point to that, right?

As soon as he thinks it, the needle points directly at the old man.

“Woah! That's so cool!”

He wonders….. if he decided he wanted you. He'd reunited with his crew briefly, but you were nowhere to be found. He was sure you had a devil fruit of some kind. And if you weren't in Wano…then you'd probably drowned.

The needle snaps in another direction unwavering.

He lets out a sigh of relief. He'd be sure to give you your compass back when he saw you again.

—----------------------------

It was the night of the raid and there was still no sign of you. There was no time to stall the attack. No more time to wait. The Sunny set sail, preparing to aid the Samurai. He couldn't help but look at your compass. It was still pointing somewhere, which meant you weren't dead. Or at least, he thought that's what it meant. 

He thought about following it, but if you were hiding it was probably for a good reason. You managed to keep your face a secret for so long. It's only natural you’d stay out of trouble when tensions were this high.

The waves were erratic and the storm around Onigashima was raging. The sea and its unpredictableness. If there was a time for you to show yourself, it'd be now. Law and Kid had already made their appearance. The Beast Pirates trying to ambush and outnumber the alliance. 

Right as he was preparing to counter their attack, someone on deck shouts-

“What's that!?!”

From the fog rolls in a ship. It's severely damaged. Torn up sails and various holes in the hull. Almost like a ghost ship. It's a miracle the thing is still floating. 

There's a figure in the center of the deck. A familiar hat with a singular feather sticking out. He can't help but break into a grin when he finally makes you out through the storm. You look like a phantom. A ghastly apparition here to bring bad tidings. 

“Starting the party without me, are you? Ouch. I thought we were friends.” Your voice cuts through the air.

“Took you long enough! I thought something happened to you!” Luffy shouts back. 

Not that you'd left or abandoned him. But that you were in danger. It didn't even cross his mind you were done helping out. He truly believed you'd stick with him. He's a sap. It makes you grin. 

“Is that Sparrow?!?” a different voice calls out.

Eustass Kid? That's two worst generation captains Strawhat had under his belt. And one of the rowdiest ones at that. 

“Some nerve showing your face around me!!!” He continued on. 

“You two know each other?” Trafalgar questioned. 

“Sparrow stole all our money.”

Ah yes. The usual dine and dash you had with other pirates until your compass shifted. It wasn't anything personal. You were just in a bit of a pinch. And it's not like you expected to see him again. 

“We had fun didn't we? If it makes you feel any better, the rum didn't last long.” You excused. 

Luffy watched the interaction with a scrunched up expression. You never tried to steal from his crew.

“Am I not supposed to pillage and plunder? And it's CAPTAIN Sparrow. Don't forget the captain.”

“Captain of what? The inebriated?”

“You'll see soon enough.”

Before you can argue any further, the enemy begins their assault. Shooting off cannons and sending any pirates that can fly to attack. All three crews fend them off effortlessly. Meanwhile, the three captains are at each other's throats. Yelling about who was better and stronger. You were almost tempted to join in.

They launched off towards a battleship, bickering as they went. They were an interesting bunch. You lifted up your hand, focusing your attention towards the same ship. 

“Let's have some fun here. Shake!”

The battleship warps and pulls towards you in a spiral. You jump forward, your image distorted as you land on deck. Scrunching the ship to your liking before slicing through. You move onto the next one, being passed by Strawhat and Kid. The previous ship returning back to its shape as it sank. 

You slide between the two captains, shooting off a few shots towards a dazed henchman. From above, Trafalgar uses his room to suspend the ship. You spiral the mast towards him for an easier target. He blinks in surprise before slashing his sword. You distort a piece of debris close to you, landing on it before you can reach the sea. You watch as Eustass causes more damage to the ship. Using his ability to repel the cannon balls back. Luffy lands the finishing blow in his Bounce Man form. Law teleports next to you while the other two land onto the platform. 

“What the hell kind of devil fruit is that!!?” Kid interrogates. 

“The Warp Warp Fruit. I can warp reality to my liking. Takes a lot of stamina, but I couldn't let you lot show me up.” You responded.

Luffy practically beams at you. A stark contrast from the way he'd been trying to one up the other captains. You're okay. More than okay if your attacks were anything to go by. Even reality was yours to take.

He reaches down into his pocket where he's kept your compass. It doesn't have a scratch on it, which he's incredibly proud of.

“I kept this for you,” he said as he extended out the compass.

“Isn’t this a surprise? Thank you, jolly sailor,” you coo as you take it from him. 

At the exchange, the needle goes from pointing at you to pointing back at Luffy. 

He's still staring at you with bright eyes. Like you might've meant something to him. For once, you're glad to see it. 

—--------------------------------

One long, excruciating and painful night later, the land of Wano was liberated. The amount of scares Strawhat gave you couldn't have been good for your heart. Two death announcements and he'd bounced right back. You knew there was something special about that man. There had to be for your compass to be stuck on him.

The man you'd invested so much time in…Was Joy Boy. 

The Sun God Nika.

Warrior of Liberation, which made sense in hindsight. 

He’s everything good in the world personified. It's no wonder that damn smile rarely left his face. Why he was able to make friends just about everywhere he went. How he was able to win you of all people over. 

And you'd heard them. The repetitive drumming that set your being ablaze. It made you tremble in excitement. Pulled you in deeper against the hold Strawhat had on you. You wanted fun, and now you'd always have it so long as you stuck around.  

The next few days were designated to celebration. The biggest festival being held as soon as Strawhat woke up from his injuries. Which just so happened to be today. 

He walked around the various stalls with his first mate. Seemingly looking for something. When he couldn't find it, he decided to ask for help.

“Hey, Zoro?”

“Yeah?”

“You've drunk a bunch of alcohol right?”

Zoro eyed him with confusion.

“Yes?”

“Could you tell me which’s the best rum?”

He had to do a double take to make sure he heard his captain correctly. Luffy? Wanting to find good alcohol? Luffy, who never drank, wanted rum??? Maybe Kaido had knocked a few screws loose. 

“Why do you wanna know? Trying to celebrate like a real pirate this time?” He teased.

“No. It's for Y/n.”

“Sparrow? Are you gonna ask them to join our crew?” Because he couldn't fathom another reason Luffy would go out of his way for you.

“Maybe.”

The truth was, Luffy wanted to celebrate with you. You tried to buy time on the rooftop. Tried to save Nami when Kaido was about to attack. He was appreciative of all of it. He hadn't seen you since the battle. Since he'd used Gear 5. 

His haki could seek you out in this new form. And it had. He'd felt it the moment his eyes landed on you. The call to freedom. It was loud and alive. 

He wanted to see what it'd be like to have the feeling consume you. Let the fire set you ablaze. He was entertainment to you, and that was fine. You were entertainment to him, too. Fun in the freedom he'd sought out. 

He found you later that night. You were sitting at one of the vendor’s booths. Watching the fireworks go off with a drink in your hand. You smiled when you saw him, patting the seat next to you. He extended the bottle towards you almost shyly. 

“It's the good stuff this time. I had Zoro pick it out.” He explained, remembering all the times you complained about getting sake.

You popped off the lid and took a sip. Your posture immediately relaxing. 

“A man after my own heart,” you cooed before extending the bottle back to him.

“Here, let's share.”

He looked at it for a second. Then back to you. You had an easy going smirk. Weightless and content. Not like you were silently plotting. So he takes the bottle and tilts his head back. He regrets it as soon as he does it. Making a sour face and giving you back your rum.

“Why is it spicy?”

You can't help but laugh at him. 

“You're a light weight. I’d say water it down, but what's the fun in that?”

He pouts, trying to take the bottle back to salvage his pride. You don't let him, keeping it just out of reach.

“Do tell what's next, Joy Boy.” You tease.

“Don't call me that. I'm still Luffy.” 

He's still the trusting fool you'd met in Dressrosa.

“We'll go whenever the log pose takes us next. Hopefully to the next Road Ponyglyph.” He answers before questioning you.

“What's your plan?”

You open your compass for what feels like the hundredth time. You know where it'll be pointing without looking. It's at Luffy.

“Stuck with you.” You responded.

“Good.”

“Good?” You raise a brow at that. 

“I like having you around. And your power’s pretty cool.”

Nobody's ever said it was good to have you around. 

“Well let's hope you keep having what I want.” You hide under the brim of your hat. 

“I thought I was what you wanted.” He says bluntly.

“You could be, if you're willing to work for it.” The flirtatious edge is back in your tone. 

A pleasant shudder runs down his spine. He decides he likes when you talk to him like that. Just you. 

Luffy flocks to you. It's not infatuation. It's admiration. You are the very definition of freedom. You march to the beat of your own drum. And it calls to him. He feeds off it. He wants you to keep following him around. To be what your compass always points towards.

He likes the challenge you bring. Knowing you're not permanently his, but that he has to earn your attention. You keep him on his toes. You don't fawn over him or try to tie him down.(Like a certain snake princess) Instead, it feels like he's the one doing the chasing. He's the one trying to get you to stay. And he likes it.

He likes chasing freedom.

Luffy wasn't much of a drinker. Yet here he was passing the bottle back and forth with you. A dopey smile on his face as he listened to you ramble on about your old crew. He's practically got hearts in his eyes when you tell him about your fight with a kraken. 

“If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was flirting.” Sanji comments from a little ways away. The other Strawhats nod along, picking up on their captain’s strange behavior. 

Luffy takes a second to process his words. When he finally does, he practically lights up. 

“Hmmm, yeah!”

“HUH!?!” the entire crew gapes at him in shock. 

“I guess I am flirting.”

He has no shame or embarrassment admitting it. A go-getter who knows what he wants. The embodiment of a God had his sights set on you. You're not intimidated by it. No sudden urge to be a better person. It's as you said before, you won't let someone else change you. 

“Well aren't you just sweet? You want to be mine?” You questioned. 

He nods drunkenly against you. He’s hanging onto your every word, and it makes your heart thud. You lean your face closer to his, watching him eagerly follow suit. His forehead rests against yours softly. Right as he's about to close the gap, you put your hat on his face with a light shove.

“Work for it then.”

There is no sweetness. That's not who you are. But Strawhat doesn't seem to be fazed by it. He adjusts your feathered hat so it sits properly on his head. His cheeks darken in a flush. Pressing closer to you.

“I will. M’ gonna be king of the pirates. So just join my crew already.”

You lift up his chin with the tip of your finger. 

“Convince me.”

You get up to leave, taking his beloved straw hat with you.

“I’m gonna head over to the springs. Are you coming with, my jolly sailor bold?”

You'd called him yours.

He practically scrambles up to follow after you. 

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

An: whoever requested smut of this scenario, I see you and I will do it...eventually. I just wanted to get the fluffier stuff out first. Hope y'all enjoyed!!!!

[anunusualghost]

𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 (𝓋)

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: Prince Luffy has come up with an idea that he calls "trade places day." It means that he'll pamper you and treat you like royalty. When the conversation wanders and Luffy reveals troubling information, alluding to secrets and hidden intentions, the day suddenly gets cut short. What course of action will you take? ~3.5k words.

Part 5 of (?) - (read part 1 here) Pairing: Luffy x reader (she/her pronouns used) CW: SFW!

✦ Chapter 5: These are things I warned you about ✦

You couldn’t remember the last time someone had lavished you with attention and care like this.

The face mask was cold and smooth on your skin, the relaxing effect only dampened slightly by Luffy’s less-than-delicate handle on the thin brush it was connected to. He hovered over you from above, so close that his robes trailed on your skin.

“I don’t understand how this isn’t tickling you right now,” he spoke, but you couldn’t see him, eyes closed in bliss (and slightly covered with rogue swipes of face mask).

“It’s soothing, Luffy, not ticklish.”

He hummed in response, and you felt the brush leave your skin for a second, returning momentarily to plaster down another cool blob of eucalyptus and clay.

“If your face isn’t ticklish at all does that mean you aren’t ticklish anywhere?”

You giggled. “Luffy, what kind of question is that?”

“Well, what about… right here?” One of his fingers poked you hard in the side, causing you to jolt in surprise. It didn’t elicit as dramatic a response as he hoped for, other than make you burst out laughing.

“What the hell was that, Luffy?”

“I thought you would be ticklish.” You could hear the whiny pouty face he was making. “Now, how long does this stuff have to stay on your face?”

“Good rule of thumb for these things is approximately 20 minutes.”

He yawned and pulled up a chair next to where you were laying on a spa table. “That’s so long. Are you going to take a nap now?”

“I’m not feeling very sleepy.”

“Can I take a nap?”

You giggled again. “That wouldn’t make you a very good palace spa worker, now would it?”

The prince let you a sigh and, even though his words would otherwise come off as unenthused, his sarcasm was thick and the smile through which he said it even thicker. “Okay fine, I’ll hang out with you.”

A few moments of quiet passed by. It wasn’t awkward between you two, whenever it got like this. It was peaceful.

“You know,” you ventured, “I was wondering something about your family, Luffy.”

“What is it?”

Another lull in conversation while you counseled yourself. You had learned over the past few weeks that, above all else, you could trust this man. You felt comfortable enough to inquire further.

“Do you remember when we first met?”

“Of course I do,” he responded, and again, you could hear his smile as you sat with your eyes closed.

“Well, so… you know your great aunt?”

“Oh, that old Granny?”

“She was the one who recommended my services to you, right?”

Luffy hummed out an “mmhmmm.”

“I wanted to know more about her. Her recommending me seemed kind of out of the blue, like it shocked me. I was just curious about what sort of person she is. And if you knew why she recommended me to you.”

“Hm. Granny is a funny old lady. I don’t know too much about her but I’ll tell you what I know. When I saw her in the palace, after I got back from being out at sea, when I was first injured, you know? Right before we met? She pulled me aside and told me that she had someone she wanted me to meet. ‘Young man,’ she said,” (Luffy began to do a ridiculous old granny impression) “’there’s a young woman I want you to meet. She’s a masseuse in the bath house. Her hands work wonders. I think they could heal you.’”

“My hands could heal your massive injury?” You were not-so-subtly incredulous.

“I don’t know what she meant by that. But when I told her sure, she sent you my way and we met the next day.”

“I see. Well, can you tell me anything else about her? What sort of woman is she?”

“Granny is different, like you and me. Granny doesn’t get lost in who is royal and who isn’t. She actually—I don’t know if you know this, but it might be interesting –she married into nobility. Ages ago. She was a commoner, just like you,” Luffy put his words simply. From anyone else maybe they would have come with a pang of judgment, but you knew that him calling you a commoner wasn’t a declaration of judgment, rather, it was a statement of fact. He assigned no positive or negative value to your social status.

But that actually wasn’t true—of late you were starting to suspect that Luffy viewed people who were not members of the nobility through an intrinsically positive lens. Little things he did, or side comments he made, seemed to suggest as much, at least. He had never come outright and stated a by-default dislike for his own kind (royalty) but you could have sworn that you could see it more and more.

“She was a commoner like me?” You prompted him for more.

“She was. Her marriage to her husband was a love match. It was scandalous. I heard whispers about it growing up. People treated her differently for it. I never cared, obviously. Honestly, she always seemed to have a bit more humanity in her than these—” Luffy stopped short and bit his lip, though you couldn’t see him. He shook his head. “Than some other people. She’s a weird lady, though.”

You let the information sink in.

Your thoughts started to pick up speed.

You knew there had been something here that was interesting to you. Something that stuck out and demanded to be examined. Fragmentary memories rushed through your mind, replaying your first chance encounter with the granny in question.

“You’re too young and pretty to do this job. What are you doing working so hard in the palace? You ought to be married by your age. Surely you have no shortage of suitors. I wonder why you don’t marry up in wealth and social status.”

Her eyes had been piercing, her tone was sharp.

“I know a few young men who would be happy with someone as pretty as you for a wife. Regardless of social status. Maybe I’ll introduce you sometime.”

Had her attempt at an introduction been sending you to Luffy’s quarters a couple days later?

You tried to shake off the thought, but it crept farther into your heart.

“I always wondered why she sent me to you,” you mused out loud to Luffy. “She made some interesting comments to me when I met her. She said stuff about marrying up in wealth and social status. She vaguely offered to introduce me to some prospective suitors. It makes more sense now, knowing that she was born into the peasantry herself. And then she sent me your way—I suppose, in some manner, I owe her my life, don’t you think? Or at least, I owe her my freedom?”

Luffy’s silence went on for longer than you expected. He was either asleep or thinking hard. You couldn’t see him, eyes shut and lids partially covered with the face mask.

“You aren’t nearly as free as I’d like you to be, you know.” His voice was softer now. More intentional. You knew what he was alluding to.

An awkward silence ensued. You felt like it wasn’t the time or place to go into every single detail about why you had been repeatedly refusing his offer to join his crew. It was complicated, evidently too complicated an issue for him to understand. As you were beginning to muster up a satisfactory answer, he continued, changing subjects.

“Oh, also, my granny. I wonder who she was offering to introduce you to. Do you think it could have been me?”

The way he stated things so bluntly, when they ought to be put delicately or at least with some semblance of tact, never failed to amaze and delight you. He put into words the very thing that had been making your mind wander and your heart tremble.

“Maybe it was you who she was trying to set me up with,” you laughed, again, incredulous at the absurdity, and also partly to cover up the emotions this conversation was evoking. “But there’s no way. Someone like you? With me? There’s no way, Luffy, that’s crazy talk. I think she must have been trying to get at something else.”

“What would be so crazy about that? Is it just because I’m a prince?” The poutiness entered back into his tone. “You really think I would care about something like that?”

This conversation was verging on dangerous territory. Not dangerous for your physical safety, like it might have been with anyone else, but more so dangerous for the safety of your heart.

There was only an extent to which you could self-delude. At a point, you had to accept it for what it was—this man worked his way into your heart and grabbed ahold of it. In fact, he had grabbed ahold of it early into your acquaintance. It was an attachment that was impossible to evade.

It would have happened sooner or later. The level of affection you felt for Luffy wasn’t yet unbearable. It was mildly unpleasant. Thus, the topic at hand was equally as unpleasant. It made your heart trip and your chest rise and fall faster. It made your insides stir and flutter.

“I know you wouldn’t care about something like that, Luffy. I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant for someone as, well, as handsome, talented, and accomplished like you, I’m an unfit match. Your granny had good intentions though, so I’m very flattered, if those were, in fact, her intentions.”

If your eyes were open, you would have seen the prince’s cheeks color at the praise and the self-deprecation you indulged in. 

He took a deep breath, about to blurt out a response, but you held up a hand. “Let’s get this face mask off of me, Luffy. I think we mixed it wrong and it’s drying too fast and in all the wrong places.”

This may or may not have been a fabrication devised to stave off another set of unpleasant and heart wrenching comments from a man who was now so dear to you.

Luffy took his time wiping your face off, getting every last speck of the mask off your skin. He applied some oil to your face, patted your head, and looked very proud of himself.

“See!? I told you I could do it. Look at how glowing your skin is—it’s beautiful!” He was beaming in smiles. You knew that his praise was meant more as a self-commendation for completing something that you told him wasn’t easy, but again it stirred your heart.

“I guess you are cut out for this, Luffy, I have to hand it to you.”

“Wooooowwww, really?”

He smiled wide.

Today was some sick joke you were going along with. At least sick to the part of yourself deeply yearning for Luffy’s extended companionship. The theme of today was, as Luffy called it, ‘trade places day,’ an idea he hatched while he desperately searched for entertainment.

You initially tried to turn him off of the idea, but you gave in sooner or later. He was unrelenting in his search for amusement.

“Now I’ll get you some tea and one of the robes you always get me,” Luffy said, and you got hit with a pang of how improper this was.

The prince giving you a spa treatment. Getting you tea and plush robes. Pampering you. It gave you an almost concerning level of gratification…

But while he was out of the room, your mind wandered to other things: your wages, which were now holding your family up in stability and contentment, your reflection in the mirror, which seemed to glare back at you in defiance of your resisting your emotions, and—like a stroke of lightning—the memory of Luffy’s brother smiling, three inches away from your face. His eyes had looked like tiny flames resided inside. His gaze burned.

It had been two weeks. You hadn’t seen him since then, and the extra time to think about it made you feel a lot better than you had initially. You felt stronger. If he tried you again, got too close, or made you uncomfortable, you wouldn’t restrain yourself. You knew, for certain, that Luffy would have your back.

Thinking about him brought up a mix of emotions, though. You did like how charming he was, and the kind of attention he gave to you, even if unasked for. It would be nice to feel his lips on your skin—but it’d be nice to do a lot of things. There wasn’t any point in ruminating on it. Why do that, when his brother was here, in front of you now, smiling so sweetly and helping you into a plush bath robe?

“Now come out onto the patio, I’ve got a surprise!” Luffy vibrated in excitement. He was funny like that, so readable and pure. A ray of sun in human form.

He led you by the hand out to the patio where you sat on reclining beds next to a pool of water, vibrantly blue because of the tiles that lined the pool walls.

“Look at this,” he walked back inside, and then out, holding a tray. “I arranged for us to have these. They’re extra special because it’s mango season.”

Parfaits. Two big ones, stacked with mango slices, mango syrup, and even mango ice cream, something you’d never had the privilege of tasting before.

Sitting the tray down on the end of one of the chairs, Luffy sat next to you. He cozied up close, reaching for the parfaits and handing you yours. He watched your take your first bite, noticed how wide your eyes got, and his heart felt full.

“Luffy,” you said between mouthfuls, “I think one of the best parts about this kingdom are the mangoes. Aren’t we lucky?”

“The best parts of this kingdom are the mangoes and the people. Everything else can go to hell.”

The sudden change in the tone of his voice caught you off guard. Looking away from the mound of mango in front of you, you saw that Luffy’s jaw was clenched and his eyes were steely.

“I have something I need to tell you,” he began. “This might seem abrupt. I guess it is. They’re going to come back for me soon—my crew—since I’m almost finished healing. I can take my bandages off whenever, but I’ve been putting it off to spend more time with you. I’ve been thinking. I really want you to join my crew. In my mind, you’re already a member.”

At this point, he put his parfait down and grabbed one of your hands, looking at you earnestly. “There are things I need to do here and to prepare for before I leave. Things that are secret. A plan I’m trying to stick to for once in my life. I want you to join my crew and get out of here before anything happens. I can make arrangements for your family. You won’t have to worry about them.”

“A plan?”

“Maybe—maybe I can share it with you? But I need you to promise to join my crew, okay?”

“But my family, Luffy.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. I’ve made preparations for them to be fully protected and funded more than they currently are. I’m sure they’d understand if you left with me.”

It seemed like the day just turned sour. Thoughts of him leaving, thoughts you had been trying to put off for weeks, were here, bolded, in front of you. Your stomach turned.

“When, Luffy?”

“When am I leaving? I was hoping next week. There’s a lot I have to do until then, though.”

“Will you ever come back?”

He looked at you. Deep and inquisitively, right in the eyes.

“I will come back. Sometime soon. In a few months. Please, just join my crew. I don’t want to have to kidnap you.” His smile on those last words was chagrined, joking, and sad, somehow. “You’re meant to be on my crew, I’m sure of it. I already wrote to the crew members. They want you, too. Come join us. Just say yes.”

He squeezed your hand tight. Tears started to well up in your eyes. He was making a strong case for himself. You were scared about it, though, scared of the astronomical change it would entail for you, scared of your family being far, far away. But there was something so comforting about him. You believed in him without qualification.

“Luffy, just give me a couple more days to think it over, please.”

“Of course.” One more squeeze to your hand before the sliding door to the patio (behind you) was knocked on. He dropped your hand and told whoever it was to enter.

It was one of his other waitstaff members. One of your colleagues, but you never really saw them. You didn’t talk to them much. Most of your time was spent in your room or with Luffy, so you were a bit ostracized. It didn’t bother you too much.

“What’s up?” Luffy asked.

“I have a special message for you, from your brother, Prince Ace.”

Luffy rolled his eyes. “Gosh, what does he want now?”

“The prince has requested the masseuse for a spa service in his complex.”

“Tch. Again? I had a talk with him about this already.” His brows furrowed and he looked annoyed. “I told him he needed to stop trying to hog you so much. He requested your presence a bunch last week too and I told him to back off. You’re my friend, not his spa lady.”

A few moments of silence passed while the servant gawked, you grimaced, and Luffy pondered what to do.

“What time does he want her to go?”

“He said immediately, your highness.”

Another bout of annoyance flickered across Luffy’s expression when he heard those last two words. He turned to you.

“Do you want to go? Or should I tell him no? I don’t want him to get… weird about you.”

“Weird?”

Luffy shook his head. “I swear he does this sometimes. If he starts getting weird just tell me. You don’t have to go and see him if you don’t want to. If he gets pissy about it, I’ll talk to him.”

“What do you mean by weird, Luffy?”

“I don’t know how to describe it. Intense. I don’t think he will get like that, but if he does, just tell me, okay? Now, do you want to go and see him or not? I’m not sure what he wants with you. I guess I should stop singing your praises to everyone who asks.” His frown turned into a smile at the end, and he elbowed your side softly.

You appreciated the gesture, but your heart was starting to race. It had been two weeks since you saw Ace. Two long weeks. Two weeks where you had thought about him often. Would you be able to see him tonight, banter and flirt a bit, without anything happening? Would that unpredictable man be able to keep his hands off of you? And vice versa?

Against your better judgment—for it was screaming at you to say no—you agreed apprehensively.

“Okay Luffy, I’ll go.”

“Are you sure?”

“He’s your brother. It’ll be fine. I don’t mind that much. How weird can he get?”

You tried to be lighthearted to play off the fact that it felt like an invisible string was tied to your waist, and that string was being gently tugged towards the other side of the palace, wielded by a man you knew you couldn’t trust. Or could you?

It was a confusing sensation, sickening, and exciting all at once.

Luffy rubbed the back of his head and smiled, a signature and sort of shy gesture of his. “Okay, fine. You can go and see him. But after this I want it to be just us for a while. Until I leave. Until we leave.”

You exchanged a pair of warm smiles between the two of you and you rose, getting ready to head over to Prince Ace.

“Will we continue the rest of ‘trade places day’ when I come back from Prince Ace’s? Or shall we do it tomorrow?” You looked at him, puzzled. “I’m down for either.”

“Let’s do it tomorrow. We can catch up about your meeting with Ace and then I can give you the massage I promised you,” he answered, back in normal spirits again. “Besides, I can’t let us just cancel the rest of our date because Ace got in the way, can I?”

Your heart did a cartwheel at the word ‘date’. He was joking, surely, but… the day had kind of felt like a date. You would play that back in your head later. Now, you had to attend to the other man taking up the other half of your mind—Luffy’s brother, Prince Ace.

“Wait, I have an idea, let me walk you over there. Is that okay?” Luffy asked, and you eagerly agreed. More time with him was always nice, and you felt like it’d make a good impression on Ace to see his brother drop you off. Maybe he’d be a bit more “normal” and less “weird.” Or maybe he’d be worse. And what did that even mean?

He was already plenty weird and intense when you saw him last. Maybe he’d apologize when he saw you and Luffy. Maybe he’d go back to normal after seeing the dynamic between his brother and you.

You were naïve and sorely mistaken.

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thanks for reading! next chapter TBD, most likely a week from today! also based on the results of my recent poll, i may post 2 chapters next week? perhaps.

[anunusualghost]

𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 (𝒾𝓋)

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: Prince Ace has summoned you to his quarters for a spa service, but you quickly realize that he's in a very peculiar sort of mood. When his comments depart from friendly and start leaning toward inappropriate, what can you do? He is a prince, after all... ~5k words.

Part 4 of (?) - (read part 1 here) Pairing: Ace x reader (she/her pronouns used) CW: NSFW (18+) - masturbation! Out of character Ace!

✦ Chapter 4: Your eyes are summer, mine are winter ✦

The sunset that night was red and gold. The last rays of sun matched the gold accents adorning every part of the palace imaginable. Mesmerizing, eye catching, and extravagant.

When you knocked on the huge, ornate doors to Prince Ace’s quarters, he commanded you to enter. The ceilings were vaulted, colorful tiles graced the floor, massive, green plants accented the walls, and the music of fountains met your ears. It looked, felt, and smelled like paradise.

The main room was much cleaner than Luffy’s. It was sparser than his brother’s, filled with wooden furniture in a dark shade and gold everywhere you could imagine—no hints of dust or grime could be seen; you could tell he made sure his space was meticulously cleaned each day.

Prince Ace was standing off to the side, downing a cup of water. He looked like he just got finished working out. His chest was bare, and his flowy, traditional-style pants were a dark brown. The golden trim was studded with tassels and the pants rode low, so low that you could see the sharp, v-shaped carving of his pelvic bone and wiry happy trail snaking up his lower abdomen.

He noticed you staring before catching your eye. “Sorry I’m a bit of a mess right now,” he began, “I just got done with some swordsmanship training. Hot and sweaty. I guess I’m in the perfect condition for a nice, long bath. What do you say, shall we head to the bathing chambers?”

You nodded, following in his direction. His back and shoulders were broad and toned, thick with muscles, not too big and not too small—picture perfect. He walked leisurely and slowly, relishing the anticipation of your hands on his skin.

When you reached the bathing quarters, you set your tray down and asked him what sort of service he would prefer.

“Let’s do one of those traditional bathing routines. Those last the longest, right? I could really use some relaxation.”

You assented, taking a moment to inspect his expression. You couldn’t quite place the look on his face. Was he being smug? Sly? Proud? Or were you just reading into it too much? You fancied the shadow of a smirk on hips lips.

Those were pretty lips. He had pretty skin. Pretty freckles. A pretty smirk. It was a bit difficult to focus.

As you started the preparations for the bath, he undressed. Fully nude, he wrapped a towel around his bottom half. It was hard to stop your face from heating up, hard to drag your gaze away from the demi-god standing in front of you. There was something about this man that made your heart flutter in a different way from his brother. You tried to push it out of your mind. It was your first time performing a service for Prince Ace, your first time meeting him one-on-one, and you wanted to make a good impression.

You asked him to sit on a spa chair for the first few steps of the routine. Wetting a cloth in some warm water, you began to wipe him down, running the fabric over his body delicately. Droplets tricked down his muscles. You could smell his sweat, and his cheeks were still pink from the exertion of his workout.

A couple minutes into the process, you realized that Prince Ace was staring at you. It felt like his eyes would burn a hole in your face from how attentively he observed you. Right about now most people would have their head back, resting their eyes in search of the most relaxation possible. But he was laser focused.

“I was so surprised when I learned you were a palace spa worker,” he broke the silence. His voice was gravelly, deeper than you remembered. “I was certain you were a member of the nobility. The royal colors fit you well.”

“Thank you, your highness.” You smiled cordially at his attempt to break the ice, looking up at him from where you knelt on the floor by his side.

“What do you think of my brother? Is he treating you well? It’s my understanding you joined his team quite recently.”

“Your brother has been very kind to me, your highness. He has been generous, considerate, and given me far more attention than I expected or, certainly, deserved.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

You smiled and thanked him, bowing your head.

When you finished wiping him down, you took a moment to draw a steamy, hot bath, pouring liquid soap into it. It frothed up while you started exfoliating his arms and legs. Usually this wasn’t odd at all—you had performed this multi-step process countless times—but there was something about having this man, of all men, bare and basically naked in front of you, staring you down with such an intensity… You tried not to think about it too much.

 “You speak so formally,” Prince Ace observed as you brought an exfoliating mitt to one of his calves. “I promise I won’t bite. Unless you want me to, that is.”

That familiar sensation of red-hot embarrassment crept up your neck and twisted in your chest. How am I supposed to respond to that? You asked yourself. Maybe he was just trying to be nice and put you at ease. Maybe he didn’t realize how that came off.

“I’m sure that your highness would never bite someone unprompted.”

A smirk spread across his lips. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

You thought better of what you had said the second you saw his smirk. Had you sounded inadvertently flirtatious? Hopefully he wouldn’t think you were being deliberately improper. If he was anything like his brother, you could expect some more humanity and kindness from him, so you told yourself not to sweat it too much.

Moving upwards to scrub his thighs, you tried not to think about the small possibility of him making a move on you, slightly worried that if he did, you wouldn’t be able to resist in reciprocating. But this was Luffy’s brother, you reminded yourself. He wouldn’t be the type of person to do that.

“If I was Luffy…” he began to speak again, voice trailing off for a moment. “I don’t know if I’d be able to control myself. You’re too pretty to be on his team. I’m sure he doesn’t appreciate you half as much as I could.”

“O-oh, thank you your highness. You’re too kind, I’m sure I don’t deserve half as much praise from either of you. Thank you.”

“Has anyone ever tried anything with you? Being a masseuse and all?” Prince Ace raised an eyebrow.

Obligated to answer, you responded, choosing your words carefully. “Yes, your highness, but I fear a detailed recollection of each instance might be inappropriate to discuss here, when I am honored with such noble company.”

“I see. I was just wondering if I would be the first.” He cracked a grin, winking on his last word, but saw your body go rigid at the implication. He waved a hand light-heartedly. “Don’t worry. Remember, I don’t bite unless you want me to.”

You let out a nervous smile, then asked him to get in the tub for the next step.

“Should I drop my towel? I haven’t had a spa treatment in ages. Enlighten me.”

Your stomach did a flip, eyes lingering on his abdomen. The fact didn’t escape him.

“If you are comfortable with it, my highness, that’s what I would suggest. The water is far too soapy for me to see anything, and I won’t do much more than apply oil to your arms and back before I leave you to soak for a while.”

He nodded and you turned around while he stepped into the water of the tub. It was a bubble bath to the next degree, with essential oils and special soap that would make his skin softer and his muscles relax.

The tub was sunken, built into the ground and laid with tile. You crouched, sitting on your knees behind him while you massaged the oil into his back and arms.

Prince Ace’s hair was wet and his skin was glistening. He was so handsome you didn’t know how to mentally process it, let alone think about the fact that you were touching him, or the fact that he was being overtly flirtatious with you.

You worked out a knot in his shoulder, another one closer to his neck, and he let out a groan. The noise was downright sinful.

“Mmmmm, fuck, that feels good. You really know what you’re doing.” He turned around to look at you, and you were so close to his face that you held your breath and averted your eyes. “It’s a pity you aren’t in this bath with me, isn’t it?”

Your heart felt like it stopped. Prince Ace brought up a soapy hand and gently placed it on your chin, pulling you to look at him in the eyes. You took a deep breath in and out, trying to still your shaking hands.

“You know,” he continued, voice getting lower. “When someone this pretty gets this close to me, my imagination runs wild. It’s a shame you’re my brother’s.

“Your highness, I-I’m sure I don’t understand what you mean.”

“I’d love to help you understand, gorgeous.” The prince ran a thumb across your bottom lip and it felt electric. “But I don’t think I’d be able to stop at just one bite… You’re far too alluring for your own good. But I’m sure you know that. I’m sure you’ve seen the way Luffy looks at you. It frankly just increases your appeal… Do you know how much self-control I’m using right now?”

You shook your head no. He maintained searing eye contact with you for a moment, then dropped his hand, thinking better of it.

Prince Ace knew he was being brazenly forward, that you had no right to say no to him in any capacity, that you were his brother’s recent companion, and that he should remember his status as heir.

“Continue.” He ordered you, and you got back to work, trying to drown out your internal dialogue that was screaming in distress and confusion.

A few more minutes of massaging his shoulders passed before you worked up the courage to inform him that you’d be back in twenty minutes when the soaking process was over.

When you closed the door behind you, you needed to go sit down and think about what the fuck was going on. It was beyond you. Was the prince just trying to provoke you? Genuinely trying to get you in bed with him? Preying on your downfall? Why you, of all people? Why Luffy’s brother?

Meanwhile, Prince Ace let out a sigh of relief. Relief because the bubble bath was frothy enough to conceal what was below the water, and relief at his own exercise of restraint, if barely successful.

It’s not like he really would have cared if you had seen it. But he preferred to play with his food before he ate it, and he was just getting started.

Prince Ace massaged one of his pecs that was tight, rubbing it in circles before his hand trailed down his abdomen, entering the water at the same time he let out a deep sigh.

Widening his thighs, he took leisure in the sensation of teasing himself, relishing the feeling of his own hand while thinking about you. It had been far too long.

Soft ripples danced on the water’s surface. The trickling sound concealed the sounds of his hand moving up and down and the few soft grunts that left his lips.

This would be a quick one, he told himself, but the next one would be far longer. Rougher. Louder. Sweeter.

He finished in record time. Imagining your face twisted up in ecstasy did the trick.

When you knocked on the door a few minutes later, his manner was completely different.

“Enter.”

He was quiet for the rest of the service, but that didn’t stop him from latching his eyes onto your every movement. You rinsed him off, massaged his arms a bit with some soothing oil, then helped him into a plush robe.

“That was marvelous.” He smiled, and you fancied that it was genuine. You were still on edge, though. It was hard to forget that he had been three inches away from your face not too long ago.

“Shall I take my leave, your highness? Or is there anything else I may do to serve you?”

“Not tonight. Thank you.” The prince nodded at you and then swiftly walked off to his bedchambers. You felt like you had whiplash. Were you imagining how forward he was being earlier? Or was he just toying with you? What the fuck was that all about?

---

The next day, Luffy invited you over for breakfast since he didn’t get to have dinner with you the night before.

“Ace wants to borrow you again,” he said in between mouthfuls of food. “Is that okay with you?”

Your stomach sank. If you didn’t obligingly go back to Prince Ace you felt like it would make a scene. It was almost unfair of Luffy to put the weight of the decision onto you, but he figured that giving you the choice was the freest thing he could do for you.

You very apprehensively acquiesced, trying to pretend like everything was okay, like Prince Ace didn’t behave out of the ordinary, alluding to the fact he wanted to have his way with you. Maybe you were being dramatic about things; maybe he was just a huge flirt and didn’t mean anything of it.

“What time would he like me there?” You asked Luffy.

“Same time?” He shrugged, unbothered. “The rice is really good tonight, isn’t it?”

You mentally prepared yourself while Luffy stuffed his face. He evidently didn’t notice your apprehension.

After your meal, conversation was pleasant. You talked about his crew, his family, your family, how you had been liking the palace, how you liked your new room… the list went on.

But dusk approached quickly, and you couldn’t shake the idea that Prince Ace had something in store for you.

---

While your nerves ran wild, Prince Ace thought long and hard that day. He couldn’t get you out of his head. This had happened before countless time—he’d fixate on one person, use them, toss them aside, and forget about them. He thought he had long changed that habit, but he was discovering the tendency was as loud as ever. And his self-control was negligent because he was stressed about the war he was involved in and touch starved. 

Luffy wouldn’t care if he took you, the sick part of him whispered. Luffy never cared. He had other things to do, like going back to sea, asserting his freedom without a kingdom balancing on his shoulders, doing god knows what. Luffy didn’t care about women either. He never did. Luffy wouldn’t care.

Prince Ace wanted you. He wanted those pretty hands to be on his skin forever. He wanted to sweeten you up, play with you as much as he liked, get bored with you, and discard you.

Was there anything so wrong with that? You were a nobody. Nobody would care.

He mused on what you would look like without your robes on. He wanted to smell the skin of the back of your neck, feel how soft your hair was, wrap his arms around your waist, soil you and make you his.

His self-control was coming undone, and the reasonable part of himself was fighting a losing battle. He didn’t have the wherewithal to ignore the sick part of himself, and that was confirmed even more when he opened the door for you and saw you looking up at him with that tray of yours.

“Hi there.” He smiled and it looked more like a gloat. “Come on in.”

At his urging, you sat on a chaise in the main room that was parallel to his. He poured you a drink out of a glass decanter—the liquid was a deep red.

“Have a drink with me. Go on.”

It tasted fruity, definitely alcoholic, and it made your mouth go dry. You’d never had something like this before, accustomed to the rare occurrence of only having a shitty beer once every year at a festival or parade.

“What do you think?”

“It’s delicious, thank you,” you responded sincerely. You hoped he wouldn’t get too feisty today. No bathing rituals, you told yourself. Nothing good would come of another bathing service with this man.

“I want you to have as much of it as you like,” the prince instructed you, gesturing to the decanter.

“Thank you, your highness.” Confused at his kindness and concerned that he had ulterior motives, you had another sip of the liquid and it made your stomach warm up.

Prince Ace felt his heart twist. Every time you called him “your highness,” it made him feel funny. He liked it. He wanted to hear you say it over and over, in a different context… but this would do for now.

“I think we should do something different today,” he eyed you while you finished your glass. “I don’t feel like having another bath, but I do need some relaxation. What do you suggest?”

It felt like a loaded and euphemistic question. You had a gut feeling that he was hoping you’d say something suggestive. You were going to play dumb.

“You may benefit from a massage or facial. I have a nice eucalyptus and clay one I did on Luf—oh, excuse me, I meant Prince Luffy. He enjoyed it a lot.”

“Luffy, did you say? So, you two are really getting close, I see.”

“Yes, your highness. It is not of my own accord, rather, the prince has asked me to refer to him only by his first name. As is my duty, I do what he says. No disrespect is entailed.”

Prince Ace nodded. “As is your duty, you do what he says? Hm. I can’t say that I’ll ask you to refer to me in the same way. I like hearing you call me ‘your highness,’ to be honest, it does something to me.”

Your mouth went dry. Really dry, this time. You could feel your nerves starting to shake inside. Unsure of how to respond you told yourself to just play dumb, so he can’t accuse you of mouthing off or being improper. This man was unpredictable and obviously horny.

“It does something to you? What do you mean, your highness?”

He smirked. “Let’s just say I hope to hear you say that many more times.”

The fuck?

“Oh. Of course, your highness.”

A few moments of silence passed.

“Care for another glass? I insist.”

If he insisted, you would oblige. You drank another glass and he matched you.

“Now, about that facial. Shall we?”

Your heart started to beat faster, whether it was from the alcohol or the idea of being close to this man again, you couldn’t tell.

When Prince Ace was set up on the spa table in the bathing chambers, you got to work. You wiped his face down, pushed his hair back, prepped his skin, and applied the mask.

Your heart ran in circles. He was just too handsome. He was preposterously handsome. Unreasonably. Stomach-churningly handsome. It almost made you sick to look at him.

It made you even more sick to think of what Luffy would say about the dynamic happening here. It felt like Prince Ace was setting a trap, and you felt yourself almost willingly stepping into it. But it wasn’t really your own choice because the power dynamic was so painfully present. What made it even more stomach-churning was the thought that if you did have a choice, if it was up to you to decide whether or not this man kept flirting with you, you would have said yes. It made you extremely uneasy, but it was at once flattering and arousing.

You were slightly intoxicated, buzzing, leaning close to his face, and applying the clay mask. It hurt to process how stunning he was. How close he was. How badly you wanted to kiss him, and how badly you knew you couldn’t and shouldn’t for your own good. This man is dangerous, you told yourself. Act like it.

“It seems like,” Prince Ace said as you brushed the mask onto his skin, “any time you touch me it feels amazing. Bathing ritual or facial. Your hands are like magic.”

“Thank you, your highness.”

His heart pattered, his stomach flipped, and he could feel heat rushing downwards.

“Say that again.”

“Your highness?” You questioned, and, seeing him nod, you said it again. “Your highness.”

He took a deep breath in and out. “I like the sound of that.”

“I wonder whether or not your highness is called your highness hundreds of times a day. Is it each instance that brings you this much pleasure?” You asked, knowing that you were playing with fire, and not being able to help it. The alcohol made you bold.

“You’re right, I’m accustomed to hearing it. It sounds so much more enthralling when you say it, though.”

“Why might that be, your highness?” No longer were you playing with fire—you were actively fanning it.

“Pretty words and pretty praise coming out of the lips of a pretty maiden are enough to bring anyone pleasure. The current circumstances replicate that tenfold. Can you blame me?”

“I suppose not, your highness.”

Another smirk flitted across his lips. The rest of the service was completed in silence.

When his facial was done, you got the supplies together and cleaned up the bathing chambers for a minute or two while he watched you. His eyes traced your movements.

He was tickled that you seemed to have a little bit of fire in you. No deer in the headlights looks tonight. Maybe he could get more out of you. Maybe you’d be really fun to toy with.

“Care for another drink?” Prince Ace prompted, and you knew that it wasn’t in your best interest, but you said yes anyway. Dancing with the devil.

You sat across from him and drank together. It had been ages since you had a nice, strong drink. Your third glass was working quickly—nerves looser, eyes less shifty, more bold and in the mood to engage with this ridiculously attractive man and soon-to-be emperor.

“Did you know,” he started, “whenever Luffy has something that I want, I take it.”

“Is that so, your highness?”

“Yes. And he seems to have something right now that I want very badly—that I’m coveting, you could say. Can you guess what it is?”

“Freedom?” You asked, looking him straight in the eye. You knew your comment had been scathing and all too real. It was out of line. Punishment-worthy. The alcohol didn’t help with your impulse control. If you kept going like this, you warned yourself, everything would come crashing down.

Prince Ace was stunned, speechless, and shocked at your audacity.

“I was going to say something else, but yes. I have to admit I am quite jealous of my younger brother. He lacks responsibility, nor does he care about it. He gets to pal around with his attractive waitstaff, sail on the sea, and avoid the life he was destined for. Do you think my jealousy is warranted, pretty servant from the bath house?”

“Of course, your highness. I can’t help but wonder, is your jealousy why you take what you want from Luffy?”

The room was silent for a good ten seconds while he stared at you. He hadn’t expected this wit or discernment or the fiery rapport. You were looking at him like he was made of glass. Like you could see his every thought.

“Maybe that is why I take what I want from him. But does the reason really matter?”

“It depends on who you ask, I suppose, your highness.”

“And what if I asked you?”

“Would you so carelessly ask the opinion of a humble servant girl? I am sure my position on the matter is of the utmost irrelevance to your highness.”

That’s fucking audacious, Prince Ace thought. Mouthing back to a prince. He liked it. He wanted you to keep doing it.

“I am sure it isn’t,” he said severely in response. “But I happened to ask you because I think it always apt to consult the objects of my desires themselves, when possible. Do I make myself clear?”

“You do, your highness.”

Your words manifested a wry grin on his face. His cheeks were pink from the alcohol, skin glowing and hair wet. Instead of following up to insist on an answer from you, the prince stood up and bowed.

“I fear I’ve had one too many, madam. Thank you for the lively conversation. You can see yourself out.”

On your walk back to Luffy’s area of the palace, your mind was reeling. You couldn’t quite make out the particulars of your conversation towards the end.

Was the prince implying that you yourself, as an object of his desire, would be the deciding factor in whether or not he was going to “take you” from Luffy?

You surmised that, despite the confusing aspect over whether his reason for acting that way was valid, it felt clear—he wanted you. To what extent, you couldn’t begin to articulate. Based on his flagrant flirtation, you figured he was alluding to an affair of some sort. An affair because he was heir-to-be and you were lady in waiting. An affair because you were a commoner.

But what about having an affair with you would be “taking” you? Was he implying that there was something going on between you and Luffy? Or did he only say “take” because he just was referring to having you on his own waitstaff?

Your head swam and your stomach hurt from the alcohol. You regretted reciprocating the flirtation, for speaking boldly, and not holding your tongue. But part of you was enthralled with the attention. If this were a fantasy land, you’d love to sleep with him and forget about it, see how good he was in bed and then go back to your life. It needn’t be more than that. But with a prince, of course it would be.

What would Luffy think? Would your speaking out of turn, or flirting back to some extent, impact Luffy’s attitude to you? Based on all the stories he told you about his crew, you had a gut feeling that Luffy would understand you and not be upset or disgusted no matter what you did. He had a true heart of gold, it seemed.

You needed to come up with a game plan before Prince Ace summoned you again. You’d deal with it tomorrow, though. This sort of strategizing and critical thinking was impossible when you were intoxicated.

What was lucky for you, however, was that Prince Ace didn’t send you another summons for two weeks. The two weeks passed in the bliss that was getting to know, and, if you were honest with yourself, starting to fall for, Luffy, the prince that treated you like any other person, or vice versa.

But for Prince Ace, the two weeks passed in agony. This agony was self-inflicted; he was forcing himself to stay away from you, knowing that in the event he saw you again, he wouldn’t be able to resist touching you.

Exercise your self-control, he told himself. Have some goddamn discipline and grow up. You can’t keep acting like you used to; you’re a changed man. Just because you’re stressed, lonely, and starving for intimacy doesn’t mean you can steal what seems to be Luffy’s prized possession at the moment. And it’s not like she even wants to be stolen—or does she? The way she was looking at you, the way she talked back, the way she calls you “your highness”… at the mental images, Prince Ace’s heart started to patter.

He steeled his heart. But no amount of self reprimanding could erase the fact that he couldn’t get you out of his head. That he was so absorbed in thinking about a servant like you was nothing new. What made it new was your connection to Luffy, your evident wit, your charm, and your strength.

He could only keep up the charade of discipline for long before his will crumbled. He needed to have you, and the next time he saw you, he had a plan for how he was going to make you his.

Prince Ace felt confident that you wouldn’t have any problems with it. As much as you seemed to feign indifference, he could see how your eyes flashed when he grabbed your chin that one time, how your gaze trailed along his abdomen and lower, how you bit your lip to hold back remarks. It spurred him on.

When you finally read received his summons after that two-week period of bliss, you felt a mix of confusion, apprehension, and excitement. Who knows what he’s going to try, you told yourself. And who knows whether or not I will try back.

But always at the back of your mind was Luffy. Luffy’s promise to you of getting you on his crew. His candor. His growing affection. The lingering smiles. The heart-melting kindness. No amount of flirtation would be worth slighting or spurning Luffy.

It was easy to forget every trouble that had ever bothered you when Luffy was around. His outlook on life was radical, just as much as his friendship and sincerity towards you were. So when Prince Ace summoned you again, you warned yourself, don’t get too deep into this mess. Don’t get too feisty. And, above all, don’t do anything to ruin your connection with Luffy.

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next chapter (tentatively) a week from today!

[anunusualghost]

𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 (𝒾𝒾𝒾)

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: Prince Luffy has taken a liking to you. If you refuse to be on his crew, he has a different sort of proposal. Are you going to allow yourself to grow closer to him, or will something (or someone) get in the way? 3.2k words.

Part 3 of (?) - (read part 1 here) Pairing: Luffy x reader (she/her pronouns used) CW: SFW! (so far...)

✦ Chapter 3: The night erases all worries ✦

You returned to Prince Luffy’s quarters after a couple of nights. He was happy to see you, immediately treating you as cordially and kindly as he had before. He treated you like an old friend, like there wasn’t any class difference between the pair of you, and it was easy to let your differing statuses fade into the background.

It was a little troubling though, and a hard line to walk, because as much as he treated you like a friend, and as much as you felt like one, you couldn’t shake the glaring fact that he was a prince. It was a fact that was dangerous to forget, and you didn’t want to fly too close to the sun.

When you entered his chambers, he was waiting on the chaise for you, staring at the door. He cracked a grin and got up.

Prince Luffy had been thinking about you ever since he met you. There was something about you that he couldn’t get out of his mind. He was wondering about your personality, your reality, and what you needed. He was determined to get you on his crew someday and he had a nagging feeling that you were better at woodworking than you let out. Of course, he already had someone on the crew who specialized in that, but he figured the more the merrier. Franky could use some help.

He decided that utilizing your services was a good excuse to have you come over, eat dinner with him, and keep him company. That maybe you felt more at ease when you were able to do your job and chat after or during. Maybe you felt on edge (and would be more comfortable talking to him) when you followed the palace protocols, which he knew had been your survival mechanisms.

After coming to this conclusion, the prince wondered what sorts of services you were capable of doing. He didn’t want to risk any more massages, gods forbid that happened again. So, when you came to see him, he eagerly asked you what his options were. “I don’t feel like a massage today. What else do you do?”

“I can do facials, bathing rituals, hot stone treatments, scrubs, manicures, anything like that.”

He thought about it. “How about a facial?”

“Certainly. But I must insist that we do it in the bathing chamber, because there’s too much and clay water involved to risk getting it all over your bed. Is that alright?”

When he agreed, he led you to the huge bathing chamber. It was spectacular—everything was made of marble, there was a bathhouse-style tub in one corner, a shower in another area, a sauna, sinks, you name it. All of this for one person? One person who couldn’t care less about it.

You pulled out a wooden folding table that was tucked away in a corner and set it up. Gesturing to it, you encouraged the prince to lay down.

“Do I keep my clothes on?” He asked quizzically, and you stifled a laugh at how clueless he was before telling him to keep them on.

The facial was nice. You could see each of his dark, long eyelashes, every pore, the shape of his lips. He was pretty.

You moved his hair out of his forehead, wiped his face down, then mixed up a eucalyptus and clay mask, applying it delicately to his skin with a brush.

“That tickles,” he giggled, moving around a bit. His eyes were closed and he scrunched his nose up whenever you brought the brush close to the center of his face.

“Please stay still, prince, so I don’t get this everywhere.”

Pouting, he corrected you. “It’s just Luffy. No prince. You never say my name just as it is.”

“My apologies, Luffy,” you said, realizing that his name minus his status slipped out of your lips with far too much ease. “Now, would you please stop wiggling around?”

Hearing you say his name made him smile and your heart did a thumping thing.

The prince enjoyed the treatment. Your touch was gentle, the clay mask smelled good, and you smelled good too. He opened his eyes once and you were close enough he could have leaned up and—

When the treatment was over, Luffy marveled at his glowing skin in the mirror, thanked you, and then you ate dinner together. A routine was forming, one that you had no qualms against. It was nice to eat dinner with him. He was unassuming, non-threatening, compassionate, and kind.

During the meal you talked about what life was like growing up. You learned that childhood had been rough for him—Luffy didn’t have the attitude that there was anything particularly hard about it, but it sounded twisted and tragic at times. He was put in isolation frequently for misbehaving, for spouting what his father called nonsensical dreams. He fought with his brothers but loved them all the same. He wasn’t allowed to play with toys, wasn’t allowed to have friends other than other nobility (who were horrible company), wasn’t allowed to go anywhere by himself or be by himself much until he was older. He funneled all this frustration into the only thing they would allow him to do—strength and combat training for hours each day, until he got old enough and strong enough to set sailing. No one could stop him from taking to the seas and no one dared to.

As you listened to him talk about his childhood and his attitudes towards the unfreedom that came with being a prince, you started to understand why he was being so kind to you, and why he spent all his time out at sea. The context and sincerity made you trust him more.

All he wanted was to be free. You felt the same. You shared a similar dream. You wanted to be free from the stress of money and labor, and he wanted to be free of the ginormous expectations and suffocating responsibilities foisted upon him by nature of his birth. But for Prince Luffy, achieving his dreams didn’t sound like the most herculean task. Maybe his fate was to be free. But you knew that yours wasn’t. You were stuck. You couldn’t think too much about dreams because this was your life, for good.

When the conversation about your shared dreams and differing circumstances dwindled down, you were both quite touched at how much you seemed to have in common. Dreams and views on life. Understandings of how things should be. Freedom.

Now came the moment the prince had been planning for. “I have a question,” he began, “I know you won’t join my crew yet, but… will you join my waitstaff? So we can hang out more? You’d get paid a lot more too.”

You were caught off guard and flattered, but hesitation flooded your body, twinged in happiness at the gesture.

“I want to say yes, but I need to get permission from the head of my department before I agree to anything,” you said.

“I already did that. She said it’s okay with her if it’s okay with you.” He beamed and you felt your stomach flip.

“She did?”

You accepted his offer. He couldn’t stop smiling for the rest of the night.

“Your room is all set up,” Luffy said eagerly, “it’s the building next door. I made sure your pay would be tripled. And you get nice new robes too. I don’t want them to work you to the bone really so I told them to take it easy on you, you can just be the resident spa lady and that’s it. Does that all sound okay?”

You were speechless. The generosity was too good to be true. Triple pay. The words rang in your ears for a few seconds. Triple meant that you’d be able to send so much more back to your family. Think of the things they could do, you told yourself. Meat every night. New tools. New bedsheets. Tears started to well in your eyes.

After that, Luffy showed you to your new room. It was spacious with a plush bed. Such a stark difference from the old servant’s quarters. You’d miss some of your coworkers there, your friends, or, well, as close to friends as they could get. But it was worth it for all this.

Luffy was elated—one step closer to convincing you to go to sea with him. He hadn’t known you for long, but he knew that he wanted you on his crew, there was just something about you.

---

Your first couple of days on Luffy’s waitstaff team were uneventful. Luffy disappeared for a little while on palace business, dragged into meetings with his father and preparations for his eldest brother’s return from a long trip. The kingdom was going to throw a festival for Prince Ace, a welcome back party of sorts, since it had been over a year that he was last there. There was only a week until he was expected home.

You were quick to recognize that there had been no festivities for Luffy’s return, but it was not like he would have wanted them anyway.

The rest of the team told you that you didn’t have to help with preparations, since you were there expressly for spa services, but as you had nothing else to do you figured why not. It was easy to get sucked back into the monotonies of palace events, cleaning, etc., and it was a nice way to pass the time.

When Luffy finally summoned you, it had been four days. His presence was always in the back of your head—wondering about him, what he was doing, what he thought of you, why you got along so well, whether he was being sincere in asking you to join him at sea. The offer sounded crazy, considering the fact that he hadn’t known you long and you were just a commoner.

It was nice to see him again. He welcomed you all the same—with a big smile and a laugh. This time you gave him a manicure before you ate dinner. He had never had one before and was absorbed in the process for the first couple minutes, then got distracted and started chattering about other things.

“The doctor on my ship is named Chopper. He’s a reindeer. He’s the best doctor I know.”

You paused. “A reindeer?”

Luffy nodded vigorously. “He can fix anything. I wonder if he could do manicures, too. Do doctors do those?”

You let out a laugh. “Princ—Oh, sorry, Luffy, manicures aren’t something doctors do. They’re cosmetic. But if he’s so amazing, who knows.”

“Do you like giving manicures? Maybe you could teach him when you join my crew.”

He was talking about it like it was a given already. Would he fixate on this for a while and then forget about you? Fear of that is one of the reasons you were holding off on accepting his offer, as well as the fear of being disappointed, over-promised, and left for nothing.

“I do like giving manicures,” you started. “It’s basically just holding hands with a stranger for an hour and getting to make friendly conversation. It’s very repetitive and soothing to follow all the steps, too.”

“A stranger?” Luffy cocked his head. “But I’m not a stranger, right?”

A smile worked its way across your lips and you felt your heart threatening to flutter. Something about his unassuming way of making conversation, of insisting on your familiarity, and looking at you so plainly… it made your feel funny. That doesn’t bode well, you told yourself. You’re starting to like him like him, aren’t you?

“No, Luffy, you’re not a stranger.”

He was pleased with your response, as well as the results of the manicure, telling you that his hands had never looked so clean before. While he was chatting away, you pondered on what it would be like to really hold hands with the prince—his hands were nice. Big, strong, and manly. They’d feel good other places too…

“I said it’s dinner time,” Luffy broke you out of your distracted train of thought. “C’mon.”

The dinner table was set, the meal was enjoyable, and you found yourself feeling genuinely happy. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this happy. It was scary how happy you were.

Luffy was in the middle of a long-winded story about his right-hand man and best friend, Zoro. You learned that everyone on his crew was a member of the commonfolk— some came from countries that didn’t have a monarchy, some came from countries that Luffy had actually liberated from abusive and authoritarian governments.

You started to see that Luffy meant what he said he meant. He was a nobleman by birth but not by attitude. By attitude he was a something of an anarchist, a revolutionary, and a freedom fighter. Contrary to every other member of his family, his immediate friends and chosen family were as far from royalty as could be. He raised them up, fought for them, would die for them, loved them, and cared for them, and they did the same for him.

Maybe you could let yourself dream a little bit more about running away to join his crew. Running away to sail the seas with Luffy, no longer Prince Luffy, to you, but Luffy.

“He uses three swords, one in each hand and then one in his mouth. He bites the hilt and everything. I don’t know how his teeth handle it, and he’s so strong he can cut through—”

The huge wooden door on the other side of the room swung open with a bang. You couldn’t make out right away who was barging in, but you heard him before you saw him.

“LUFFY!”

He was tall with a dark, thick head of hair and sparkling eyes, wearing an all-black, high-collared military general’s uniform and tall black boots, with a sash and cape in the royal colors. There was a golden pin the right side of his chest—the royal crest. Your eyes grew wider.

“ACEEEE!” Luffy jumped up, running towards him, and the two brothers embraced, slapping each other on the back. You could immediately see the sibling dynamic jump out. “You’re back early?! I haven’t seen you in ages, how’ve you been? Have you still been getting your ass kicked?”

Prince Ace laughed and threw it right back in Luffy’s direction. “Yeah? Are you still not king of the pirates, little bro? What have you been up to, just gettin’ injured? Your crew had to drag your ass back home?”

“Pffft, you wish! last I heard they had to escort you out of the general’s meeting because you got your briefs in a twist—"

More bantering happened before the pair realized you were watching the reunion quietly, mere feet away.

Ace paused mid-sentence, spun on his heels, and sauntered over. “Who do we have here?”

Before you had the chance to get up and curtsy, he leaned down and pressed his face close to yours, like he was inspecting you. At this proximity, you could make out freckles that dusted his nose and cheeks. He had gorgeous, long eyelashes just like Luffy’s. His eyes were a deep, dark color; you would have thought they were black except for some residual rays of the sunset shining from the skylight above. His eyes were a rich chocolate, entrancing. It was hard to look away.

“You’re gorgeous,” he pronounced after a second. “The royal colors fit you beautifully. Luffy, I take it this is your fiancée? Have I missed out on yet another secret engagement? You dog!”

“No, she’s—" Luffy started, but Ace cut him off with a raucous laugh.

“I didn’t know you had it in you! C’mere.” He walked over, pulled Luffy’s head down forcefully, and started rubbing his hair with his knuckles.

They play fought for a moment until they were both out of breath before returning to the subject of you.

“So, where are you from?” Prince Ace approached and leaned down again, far too close to your face for comfort. His eyes did the same trailing around your face that Luffy’s had done the first time you met him. They landed on your lips for a second before flashing up to your eyes. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you around before. Which noble family are you from? You’re ravishing.”

“Excuse me, your highness, I’m not—” You tried to speak again but Luffy cut you off to deliver the news.

“She’s not my fiancée, she’s a member of my waitstaff and a friend.”

Prince Ace’s jaw dropped, maintaining how close he was to your face for a second, studying it one more time before straightening up.

“Waitstaff? What’s she doing eating dinner with you?”

“We’re friends,” Luffy arched an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t we eat together?”

Prince Ace exhaled and did a stiff bow in your direction. “Apologies for my impropriety, miss. I did think you were far too pretty for him,” he nudged his elbow in Luffy’s direction. “Not like this idiot could ever pull someone in the first place.”

You weren’t sure how to react. You were comfortable with Luffy at this point but… another prince?

The brothers didn’t waste a second before going back to fighting and catching up; you saw an opportunity to see yourself out and Luffy obliged.

---

When Prince Ace went back to his living quarters late that night, he started to pace.

There was something sick and twisted inside of him. It was tugging at his heart and whispering in his brain. He knew he shouldn’t indulge. He knew he couldn’t be trusted to indulge. But he notoriously lacked self-control when it came to these things.

One time couldn’t hurt, could it? He was just curious.

He wanted to get another glimpse of that woman from earlier.

So, she was a masseuse? Worked in the palace bathhouse before getting promoted (twice), ending up with Luffy, of all people? At first, he just assumed she was his brother’s fiancée because the colors she was wearing and how alluring she was. But afterwards, as he interrogated his own head of staff, Prince Ace learned that those robes were merely a new design for Luffy’s waitstaff and nothing more.

His mind wandered… a pretty woman like that, in private? Let alone one skilled in using her hands?

He hadn’t been touched in over a year. A massage or traditional bathing ritual would be nice. He deserved it.

Prince Ace stood still, ran his hands through his hair, and tried to control himself. But he lasted no more than thirty seconds before he hunted down a scroll and pen, and pinned the following note:

“Masseuse from Prince Luffy’s waitstaff requested at Prince Ace’s chambers tomorrow at dusk.”

Then he pinned another short message to have delivered to his brother:

“Need a massage. Borrowing that pretty servant for a night.”

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thanks for reading!! next part out a week from today or sooner if i'm feeling frisky!

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[anunusualghost]

𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 (𝒾𝒾)

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: Prince Luffy summons you to his living quarters. He’s not what you’d expect from a prince. Does he have ulterior motives in being so kind and talkative to you? ~5.3k words.

Part 2 of (?) - (read part 1 here) Pairing: Luffy x reader CW: Barely NSFW, with mildly sexual themes towards the end.

✦ Chapter 2: Gold of the most precious ✦

The door to Prince Luffy’s living quarters—which was basically its own complex—was huge, maybe 20 feet tall and made of dark wood. It contrasted beautifully with the limestone walls, of which the whole city was made.

The usual protocol of the palace was to knock and be called in. But Prince Luffy was a bit odd. He declared that anyone who wanted anything should walk freely in and out of his chambers without making a fuss. This was one example of how his manners were rumored to be decidedly different in comparison to those of the rest of the nobility.

You obliged the ushering of one of his waitstaff members and soon found yourself pushing open the door, then silently stepping into the main room.

Space here felt warped, like an alternate universe.

The central room was big, with vaulted ceilings. Gold was everywhere—the furniture, the walls, the cups, every possible avenue for gold was utilized. There were silks and thick tapestries strung from one wall to the other, draping elegantly. The textiles were in striking, vivid shades of red, purple, and orange, the colors of the royal family.

There were portraits on easels, some on the walls, cabinets of treasures, huge plants, scrolls of paper, even a couple small fountains. It was like someone jammed as much stuff into the space as possible. The room was utterly unorganized, and a thick layer of dust covered most of the items. It was silent except for the sound of water trickling into pools.

Initially you thought you were in a huge atrium because, peeking through the canopy of fabric above, you could make out a quickly purpling sky. You soon realized, based on the temperature and subtle reflection, that there was glass overhead. Something rare to see both in and out of the palace.

The room smelled like oud and incense, plumes and trails of smoke winded their way through the air. The scent was overwhelming, sinking into your clothes. It wouldn’t come out for weeks.

“Your highness, I have come to complete your spa service, requested via scroll for dusk.” Your voice rang out, clear and loud, through the room. No one responded. “Your highness?”

Silence in return. You stood like this by the door for a handful of minutes before you thought that the prince may get upset if he was left waiting for his spa treatment too long. Cautiously, you walked forward, threading your way through the room, head swiveling to make out where the prince might be. Perhaps in his bed chambers.

Through a huge monstera plant, perched on a chest covered in gold filigree, you caught a glimpse of someone laying on a chaise. A moment or two more of close inspection from a short distance confirmed that the person was, indeed, Prince Luffy.

You maneuvered closer, between piles of objects. It was miraculous that nobility had so much stuff. Maximalism. Over consumption. Straight-up greed.

Prince Luffy was asleep. His mouth was open, and he was drooling, face pressed into the fabric of the cushion. His arms and legs were thrown in all directions and his position looked extremely uncomfortable.

Your shoulder was starting to hurt from the huge tray of pots and towels you were supporting on one side. You wanted to sit. But that would be improper. So, you stood off to the side, out of the way, and stared at him for a good fifteen minutes before he woke up from his stupor.

As you waited, you studied his face.

You had never seen him this close before. Mere feet away, you could see his thick eyelashes, his ruffled, dark hair, tufts in all different directions because he was napping so hard. His cheeks were rosy and there was a curved scar under one of his eyes. You thought that if he smiled it would be quite endearing. But you feared that he would be in a rotten mood given the scene you witnessed earlier. Maybe you’d never get to see that smile.

Prince Luffy’s robes were crimson and gold, shifting slightly off his shoulder to reveal his bandaged and muscly chest. A thin, masterfully crafted golden chain hung delicately around his neck, accentuating his summer-tanned skin and clavicles.

He was handsome. Exceptionally handsome. Maybe the most handsome man you’d ever laid eyes on. It was fitting that someone this gorgeous and strong would be a prince. He looked like he was made to be a prince. Destined for it.

After a while, his eyes fluttered. He shifted. Waking up, eyes blinking, he sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. An imprint of the cushion’s pattern marked his cheek.

His voice was deep and scratchy when he spoke.

“Who’re you?”

“Prince Luffy,” you said solemnly, curtsying. “I am here to perform your spa treatment.”

“Oh. You’re the spa lady my great auntie ordered for me?”

You nodded and curtsied again, causing his face to twist up into a scowl. “None of the bowing stuff, c’mon. I’m a person just like you.”

You froze, mid curtsy, unsure of what to do. Was he messing with you, or being sincere? It was hard to tell with these people.

“Put the tray down and come sit, you look exhausted,” Luffy said, scowl melting away as he patted the chaise next to him. “I bet your shoulder hurts.”

“Yes, your highness.” You squeaked out, in what was a combination of confusion and anxiety.

“Drop the ‘your highness’ crap, too, ‘kay?” He patted the spot next to him again.

Nervously, you placed the huge tray on a table nearby and sat on the chaise next to him. To be this close to one of the princes felt unreal, so much so that you felt weird in the brain.

Your social status was so removed from nobility, so far from wealth or a stable upbringing, that you never imagined something like this would happen—a prince speaking to you like an equal, imploring you to sit next to him, demanding you drop the formalities.

So, the rumors about him were true. He was odd. He spoke to people out of turn, treated non-nobles like something other than mere peasants—like equals. Just like his great aunt, the woman who sent you here in the first place, apparently.

What did she mean by sending you here? Was she hoping to secure you a promotion? A look at what life looks like for the other half, encouraging you to “marry up” as she said? But you had seen enough of the other half to last a lifetime. You were borderline sick of the absurd displays of wealth and condescension.

“Call me Luffy. What’s your name?” The prince asked, and when you answered, he smiled. His smile was more dazzling than you expected; his light was almost blinding. “I like that name,” he replied. “Nice to meet you.”

You responded in kind, nerves going crazy from how close you were to him. Your bodies were almost touching. He smelled good. The eye contact was intense.

“You’re here from the spa? What sorts of services do you do?”

You had to force the words out, too distracted by the sensation of being star-struck. “I-I can do basically anything. Scrubs, traditional bathing rituals, massages, facials…” Your voice trailed off. He stared at you for a second, his eyes trailing around your face. For a second you thought he was looking at your lips but… you tried to shrug it off. Maybe there was something in your teeth?

You continued, taking his silence as a prompt for you to keep speaking. “Did you have any particular service in mind, your highness?”

A twinge of annoyance flickered over his face at your last couple words, but it disappeared as soon as it arrived. “Well,” he began, “my calves are kind of tight. Can you do a leg massage? Is that a thing? I’ve never done this before.”

You nodded. “Yes, I can do a full body massage, a full leg massage, or just focus on your calves. What do you prefer, your highness?”

“Hmmmm. Let’s just do my calves for now. I’m hungry. Will it be fast?”

“It will take around half an hour. Is that satisfactory for you?”

He nodded and smiled. “Yup.”

“We just need to shift to the bathing quarters and I can get us set up.” You started to get up and he remained seated, arms crossed, looking pouty.

“I hate it in there. It’s cold. And boring. Can we just do it in my bed?”

The last sentence burned in your ears, and you could feel your face and body start to heat up in embarrassment before you realized you needed to give a response instead of gawking at him. “Oh, uh, certainly, your highness.”

Luffy raised an eyebrow and looked you in the eye. “Please, no more ‘your highness’.”

“My apologies, sir. Yes, I can perform your service while you’re in bed. Just lay down on your stomach towards the foot of the bed with your feet hanging off of it, and I can get to work.”

Luffy assented, getting up and leading you towards his bed chamber. His request to do the massage in his bed was kind of concerning. You didn’t know him or what he was capable of, so you were hoping that he wouldn’t try anything with you in the bedroom. It would be nothing that hadn’t happened before, and whenever it did happen it was awkward and, depending on the person, dangerous to turn them down. But you always managed to get out of it somehow—your quick wit and clever words worked in your favor. It was unsettling, no less.

When you entered the room, you were struck by the state of it. It was dark with draped fabric everywhere. Barely visible behind the swathes of fabric were tattered maps plastered on the walls haphazardly. The room was a mess. Empty plates full of bones were scattered everywhere. His huge bed was unmade, blankets askance and wrinkled.

 You could tell no one except the prince had been here for a long time, an interesting fact that you added to the roster quickly growing in your mind, a tally of reasons why this man was different than any you had met before.

Reaching the bed, Prince Luffy began to get undressed. You turned away, but you could see what he was doing in a mirror nearby. You couldn’t resist, curiosity taking over.

The prince slid out of his traditional-style robes, fully exposing his broad chest covered with thick layers of bandages, as well as his crimson-colored undergarments. This would usually unfaze you but something about this man stirred your heart. Was it because he was a prince, and you were starstruck? Or was it something else?

He laid on the bed as you instructed, and you got to work. You stood by the foot of the bed, from which his feet were hanging off, and put some oil in your hands, warming it up for a second. When your hands touched his skin he exhaled, and you felt how warm he was. Like a space heater.

Prince Luffy’s skin was a pretty tan shade, legs carved in strong, robust muscles. The hair on his legs was dark and surprisingly soft. You worked over his calves for some time, putting your elbows into it, working out knots and tightness, getting an arm workout because his muscles were so damn thick and strong. He exhaled a few more times and winced when you attacked a particularly rough knot.

After around ten minutes, his body stilled, and he went quiet. You could hear faint snoring. He was asleep again. He must have needed it.

When your work was done, you started to pack up. You wiped excess oil off the prince, put away your supplies, grabbed him some water and tea (as was customary after a service), and stood near the bed debating on whether or not you should wake him for his meal.

You were about to walk away when his stomach rumbled so loud it woke him up.

“Damn,” he croaked out. “Did I fall asleep again? I’m so hungry I could eat a horse,” he continued, sitting up. “You know what, I have an idea. Why don’t you stay and eat with me? Food is always better when you have someone to eat it with.”

You felt a pang of nerves, stuck by the impropriety of the request and the idea that a prince was asking you to eat a meal with him. There had to be some way you could decline respectfully, right?

“I won’t take no for an answer,” he beamed again, getting out of bed and sliding his robes back on. “Come on.”

You had no other option but to accept and follow him back to the main room. He cleared off a table that was piled high with junk and motioned for you to sit. Ringing a rusty bell, a waitstaff member came in, eyes basically bulging out of their head when they saw you sitting next to the prince. You tried to signal “HELP ME” with your eyes, to no avail.

Before you knew it, there was a large plate of piping hot food in front of you. Food that you had never tasted or seen in your life; there was some sort of meat cooked in a what looked and tasted like a yogurt sauce with long grain rice, covered in spices you didn’t know existed, salads full of parsley, tomatoes, chips of toasted bread, lemon, and a ridiculously luxurious spread of dips, some of them made from red pepper, others made from yogurt, garlic, chickpeas… you wouldn’t dare to guess how much all of this cost.

Or maybe you would. But you couldn’t understand or fathom how or why someone could spend this much money on one meal, and to eat is so regularly… no wonder the prince was ripped, he was eating ungodly amounts of protein every day, something that you and many other people you knew struggled to do.

He practically inhaled his food. It was gone in less than five minutes, and he went in for seconds and thirds. You watched, eyes wide, hesitating to join in. Was he serious about sharing a meal with you? Was it improper to accept food from a member of the royal family like this? Was it all a trap, a trick to get you in trouble, some sick game played to dupe you for his own entertainment?

No, it wasn’t. He motioned for you to eat.

“Go on, it’s delicious,” he smiled, speaking through a mouthful of food. “Try it.”

You did as he said, reaching a hand up to your mouth, cautiously stuffing in a piece of bread covered in meat, tangy yogurt, and rice. It was unlike anything you could have imagined. Fireworks on your tongue. A shiver ran down your spine, both at the mind-blowing flavors and at the idea that this level of abundance was only available to someone this far up in the royal family.

Where was all this money coming from?

You knew the answer. Crippling taxes. War. Trading precious metals out of the country’s seaside port. All sorts of ways. How much of this wealth was deserved? How much luxury was enough for one person? How much greed was acceptable, while the large majority of the peasantry was starving, begging for scraps, working for 16 hours a day?

These were things you weren’t mean to ponder over. They’d only make you sick and miserable with jealousy.

You ate the whole plate without speaking while the prince continued to do the same, happily scarfing down whatever he could get his hands on. He was enjoying himself. Another tinge of jealousy hit you, twisting inside.

Remember your place, you internally reprimanded yourself. Coveting a lifestyle you would never have was a waste of energy. Energy you could be using to work.

When the meal was over, the prince burped loudly and you bit your lip to fight back a laugh at his manners, which, other than the great amount of food he just consumed, were reminiscent of some of your friends and family.

You started to think that he might have good intentions. He radiated kindness, his smile seemed pure. He was easygoing. Not condescending. He almost felt like, as he said earlier, a regular person. It wasn’t his fault he was forced into these circumstances. If he hadn’t been born into the monarchy, you pondered, would he be someone you were friends with? Would he get along with those in your life who acted the same way?

“What’d you think?” He asked, drawing you out from within yourself. “It was yummy, right?”

You nodded. “Certainly.”

“I can tell that you enjoyed it because of the look on your face when you first tried it. It was adorable. I want to know more about you, though. Where are you from? Why are you in the palace?”

It kind of felt like Prince Luffy was taking you hostage with curiosity and conversation. You had no right to see yourself out either, so maybe you ought to enjoy yourself. Don’t speak too out of turn, or be too casual though, you reminded yourself. He’s wearing the colors of the royal family, and his living quarters are dripping in gold. We are not the same.

“I’m a member of the peasantry. My family lives in the Western quarter of the city and we come from a long line of woodworkers. I’m in the palace because a family friend’s daughter referred me, and I’m not very good at the wood craftsmanship, so it was the best option for employment.”

“Woodworkers, huh? Hmmm… What sort of things do they make?”

“Furniture, tools, and weapons. Sometimes they get commissioned for boats.”

“Boats?” He perked up. “What sort of boats?”

“Fishing boats, mainly. Small and medium sized ones. They don’t get the opportunity often but it’s their favorite sort of work.”

The prince’s eyes started to twinkle. “That’s your family? Did they ever teach you how to do that?”

You tilted your head, thinking deeply. How truthful should you be? What if he expected something from you? You decided to downplay your skills, lest he request something of you that you couldn’t deliver.

“They taught me a little, growing up in the workshop and stuff. But I don’t think I could make anything. It’s been a long time since I sat at the lathe or picked up a hammer or whittling knife.”

Prince Luffy paused. “Have you ever been out to sea?”

The question, like all of them, caught you off guard.

“I’ve been on a couple fishing boats, yes, but we hadn’t gone farther than a league off the coast.”

He nodded again, thinking deeply. Suddenly he blurted something out, like the idea struck him out of the blue and just had to come out. “Do you want to join my crew?”

Again, you had to pick your jaw up off the floor. His crew, as in the group of friends he sails around with? What the fuck? Was he being serious?

“Your highness, I-I must decline your offer with the utmost respect and consideration, if you will allow me. I can’t shirk my commitments and responsibilities to my family… In the most humble manner, I ask that you accept my rejection of your offer in consideration of my personal circumstances.”

“Okay.” He shrugged with a smile. “But I want you to come back for another meal soon. You’re nice. I want to hear more about the woodworking. But now I’m ready to take another nap. I’ll call for you tomorrow or the next day.” He got up from the table, waved at you, and walked towards his bedchambers. Before he got to the door, he spun around and said, “Also the massage was great. Maybe we do another next time?”

You nodded in agreement and went to curtsy before you stopped yourself about halfway and straightened up quickly and awkwardly.

“I saw that,” he laughed heartily and went into his bedroom, winking as he closed the door. “See ya.”

Stunned, you left the compound and went back to your room in the servants’ quarters outside of the main palace. You couldn’t sleep, playing back the interaction in your head, questioning if it was real. Had you been too stiff to him when he was being so cordial to you? Was he really planning on summoning you again? Why did his great aunt send you to his quarters, singled out of anyone else?

Your head was swimming. In the early hours of morning you managed to sleep.

---

The following day passed in futile anguish. The prince didn’t summon you and you had a stomachache from the rich food you ate the day before. You wondered if he ever would summon you again, or if those were empty words. Most likely empty words. You had been promised things by nobility more times than you could count, and the number of times they followed through you could count on one hand.

Your day was the usual, other than your colleagues and acquaintances from every department coming up to you and accosting you for details on how your evening with Prince Luffy went. You didn’t want to flame gossip more than possible, so you downplayed how you felt about it, feigning nonchalance.

“Guess you didn’t listen to my advice about keeping a low profile, huh?” Your friend jokingly remarked.

More coworkers swarmed you during the morning meal.

“Was he handsome?”

“How did he treat you?”

“Was he really weird, like everyone says he is?”

“What service did you do for him?”

“How did you get called there in the first place?”

Their questions echoed the same ones going on in your mind. You gave one-word answers and ate as fast as possible.

By dusk, your nerves started to ball up and twist inside. But there was no summons—you would not be seeing him today.

Even more so, the next day your nerves were on the fritz. As time passed, you felt relieved. Maybe the day would go with no summons as well. Hopefully he forgot about you, you told yourself. But part of yourself was curious and hopeful for the diversion.

His summons came around dusk. Time passed quickly before you were facing those huge wooden doors again, shouldering a heavy tray and wearing a fresh pair of robes. One deep breath and you entered.

The prince was awake this time, sitting on his chaise, elbow propped up, palm pressed against his cheek, staring into the distance, looking bored.

When he heard your footsteps and saw you enter the room, his face lit up. “You’re back! I held off on dinner so we could eat together.”

The table was already set. He made you put your tray down and basically forced you to sit at the table and eat. The dishes were different this time—utterly overwhelming and ridiculously rich. This all felt too good to be true. Dinner with a prince twice in a week? You didn’t take too much convincing this time; you accepted his invitation maybe a bit too readily. You were hungry and overworked. It was a well-deserved moment of relaxation and an opportunity to get real, hearty nutrition.

Delicious food. No formalities. He treated you like a friend already. It was suspicious, but his manner and general energy weren’t threatening. He had an air of kindness, joyfulness, a way of acting that seemed totally carefree and unassuming. It was wild that this man was a prince. It was easy to talk to him, easy to pretend like he was normal.

Prince Luffy asked you many questions about yourself. He inquired more about your family’s woodworking business. He wanted to know about the boats you built. You speculated that his curiosity must have to do with all the months he spent at sea.

He asked about what they fed you in the servant’s quarters, what your favorite food was, what you grew up eating, how your family acted, if you had any friends, what your favorite thing to do was, what your dreams were, if you ever wanted to be free.

You didn’t know how to answer the last two. You decided to take a risk and be brazenly truthful.

“I dream of traveling. I’ve never been outside the kingdom before. Sometimes when I was growing up, I’d just go to the coast and stare out at the horizon, wondering what was across the way. I think in a way, my dream to travel the world is a wish to be free. Free from all obligation, free from wage labor, free from the need to send money back home, free from the worrying about whether or not my family is scraping by.”

“Wow. That’s the most you’ve talked so far. I knew you had it in you. I have the same dreams. That’s why I go out to sea. Can I share one of my dreams with you? Can you keep a secret?” He paused and you apprehensively nodded yes. “I dream of being king of the pirates. Of being the freest person there is. Free from the ties of this palace and my duties as a prince.”

“That’s a beautiful dream,” you responded sincerely.

His smile shined brighter. “Thanks. I think so too. Nothing can stop me from achieving it. Not even the palace walls or the might of my father. I’ll escape for good someday.”

Your stomach flipped. Vulnerability from a prince. Secret dreams from a prince. Did this count as treason? Certainly not but… you knew he was talking crazy. How many people knew about this dream?

Anyone else would scoff at his words behind his back. But there was something in you that whispered, ‘he’s telling the truth.’ He would be king of the pirates, someday. He would leave this place forever, leave it behind as a distant memory.

Something about Prince Luffy inspired total confidence.

“Our dreams are kind of the same,” he smiled. “I like you!”

Warmth crept up your neck; the feeling threatened to take over your face. The meal continued with conversation. You opened up to him a bit more, sat in your chair with less rigidity, and let out a few genuine smiles. At the end of the meal, he called in someone to clear away trays.

The waitstaff member wouldn’t look you in the eyes. You mused on what they would say about this when they gossiped. They were probably used to his behavior. Maybe they got along with the prince too. Maybe they were in on his dreams.

The prince could talk for hours on end, but it was starting to get late. You broached the subject of your spa treatment capabilities.

“Are your calves still tight? Would you like to do another massage?”

He thought for a second. “Sure. Can we do it like last time?”

In the bedroom with the prince at such a late hour? You evaluated the situation. You felt like you could say no or decline it but… maybe that would make things weird? Maybe he’d get offended. Probably not. You felt more at ease with him after your meal and the bonding, but not this at ease. Kind conversation and intrigue aside, you had no idea how he’d act if he was upset or slighted. While it didn’t feel like it, this was only your second evening spent with him.

“If you lay in your bed, I might not be able to reach all your muscles. That’s why the spa tables are preferred. But if you insist, as is your right, of course, I will do my best.”

He was happy with your response and then requested a full body massage. You asked him to lay on the edge of his bed to give you the best access. The angle wasn’t ideal, as you had to reach over him, and it felt a bit scandalous, but you made do. He was obviously unbothered.

The massage went like any other massage you had ever done. You started with him lying face up, worked on his muscles a bit, avoiding his bandages. Halfway through you asked him to flip over, getting to work on the upper sections of his back that weren’t covered by bandages.

You spent some time on his arms, trying your hardest not to think about the fact that his skin was such a pretty shade, that his muscles were thick and defined, that he could probably pick you up with one arm, that you were standing over him, body pressing on him at times, almost on his bed…

You pushed the thoughts out of your mind. He was attractive, yes. The most attractive and fit man you’d ever laid your hands on. But he was a prince. There was, and never would be, any sense or point in crushing on a prince.

Crushing is one thing, you told yourself, but just appreciating his attractiveness is another thing… right? You knew that there was an element of delusion in your logic, but you decided to ignore it.

When you finished working on his arms, you moved downwards to his calves then worked your way up to massage his thighs. He was tense at first, but with each knot you soothed, you felt him relax.

His legs were something else. Calves sculpted by the gods. Thick and hairy thighs. The epitome of masculinity. Attached to such a regular-seeming, kind man… Pay attention! You reprimanded yourself. No daydreaming on the job.

While your internal dialogue went rogue, Luffy was deep in thought.

The Prince had never really thought about women before. What it would feel like to be touched by one. Their soft skin. Alluring eyes. Curves. Lips. Scent.

He never thought about what it would feel like to have a woman’s warm, soft hands touch him. What it would feel like for pretty fingers to dance around his body, press into his flesh, stay there for hours.

He had never really thought about any of this until now, and it was having quite the dramatic effect. His heart started to beat a little bit faster.

When your hands reached his thighs, his breath hitched. You didn’t notice. Something warm sunk in the pit of his stomach, pooling at the base of his spine, blood rushing elsewhere… His head spun. Your hands felt like magic. What would it feel like if they crept upwards? What would it feel like if you crawled on top of him and—

“Okay, all done,” you chirped, shocking him out of his train of thought. He felt tangible disappointment as your hands left his skin. “Do you need anything else from me?” You queried.

“No, thank you. I’m—” he took a beat, throat feeling thick with cotton, voice lower than usual. “I’m going to go to sleep now, I think.”

“Okay, I’ll clean up. Good night, your highness.”

He was too distracted to correct your error. You soon left the room, shutting the door behind you. He flipped over, heart racing, looking downward just to confirm. Fuck.

He couldn’t remember the last time his body forced this sensation on him. He closed his eyes, remembering the way your hands pressed on his thighs, remembering the feeling of melting into your touch…

Rolling back over, he groaned into his pillow. Why now?

For this to happen with you, a new friend and waitstaff member who was probably suspecting the worst from him—it was unfortunate timing, but he wouldn’t let the incident get in the way of the friendship he was determined to form with you. It was just a one-time thing, surely.

Nothing could shake his decision to get you on his crew, to share his dreams of freedom with you. Not even this.

The prince remedied the problem and then fell asleep, trying to think as little of it as possible.

< last chapter | masterlist | next chapter >

thanks for reading! next chapter out a week from today or sooner if i'm feeling frisky. i'm so excited for you all to read chapters 3 and 4 omg. it's going to get spicy.

taglist: @eggrollforyou @starchild-unnamed @ocean-mochi  @dahl14 @starzbrii @qhevy @midnightbears @divinedolliebun

[anunusualghost]

𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 / 𝑀𝑒𝓈𝒶𝓎𝓉𝒶𝓇𝒶

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: You work in the palace bathhouse. One day, you receive an unexpected promotion. You discover that you’re a little too good at your new job, and a little too close to nobility for comfort. Will you be able to avoid getting noticed by the Emperor and his three sons, Ace, Luffy, and Sabo? Or will you bite off a little bit more than you can chew? ~4k words.

Part 1 of (?) - I anticipate this will be 5 parts+ Pairing: Luffy x reader, she/her pronouns (and more... but I won't spoil it) CW: SFW (for now). This series will have angst, scandal, jealousy, unhealthy obsession, lots of explicit content, and possessive behavior. I think this is better than the Zoro series, so strap in... O_O

✦ Chapter 1: Prelude to a sick heart ✦

The prince had never really thought about women before. What it would feel like to be touched by one. Their soft skin. Alluring eyes. Curves. Lips. Scent.

But that changed one day.

---

Your job was a sweet one—you worked on what you referred to as the pseudo-medical waitstaff for the palace. Pseudo because among your colleagues were apothecaries, masseuses, doctors, medicine women, estheticians of sorts, poison tasters… the list goes on. The department’s official name was “Office of Care and Medicinal Practices for the Assurance of Health of the Royal Family.” The King was a fan of unnecessarily long and official sounding names for things. So, pseudo-medical waitstaff it was.

As much as you worked in the palace, you had only seen glimpses of the royal family a few times. Most of the people you were in proximity to were the emperor’s distant relatives—a couple twice-removed cousins here, a great-nephew thrice-removed there, some noblemen he kept around just to be cordial.

You landed this job through some miraculously lucky twist of fate. A position opened up and you got word of it through a neighbor whose daughter worked in the palace doing the same thing. With her good word and your eagerness to work, your spot was secured. Thank goodness for that, too, because you were days away from resorting to begging for food in the marketplace or resorting to… less savory lines of work.

It has been a little bit more than six months since you started your contract at the palace. Only recently did you start getting very close to the upper echelons of nobility. Of course, you saw the emperor a few times growing up in the capital of your nation. You caught glimpses during huge festivals, the occasional parade, and there was a rumor you heard many times as a child.

The rumor went something like this: if you walk around the Western border wall of the palace and look up at the largest balcony in the middle on the top floor, right around the sunrise, you can see the emperor lounging there and reading, taking in the sunrise and smoking a cigar. You only went to investigate the rumors once when you were very young and sure enough, there he was. He waved at you from far up above. You were much smaller back then, no older than five. That was a rare occurrence, and it made a strong positive impression on you.

When you were a child, you went years without seeing him. He was in poor health and aging, increasingly paranoid of being poisoned, and only concerned with two things: not getting assassinated and making sure his eldest son ascended to the throne. He was unsuccessful (so far) with the former, and time had yet to tell if he would be successful with the latter.

Since starting work in the palace, you learned that things go awry here often. It was a dangerous place. You always were under the impression that the emperor’s kingdom was a quiet one—but it seems like that was just the faithful and effective work of public relations.

You witnessed attempted assassinations, tasters dying from everything from poorly prepared foods to genuine arsenic, spies from neighboring nations being found out, conspiracies within almost every department, and more. Every time an incident of scandal and lies occurred, word around the palace was that it made the emperor sick. He had the habit of withdrawing to his chambers for weeks on end whenever there was a scare.

You couldn’t blame him. But you also had no idea how he maintained his good reputation outside of the palace—neighboring nations knew him as a reasonable, stand-up guy with a loyal citizenry. Sometimes you couldn’t help your opinion shifting, given his behavior inside the palace and the fact that the country was involved in two wars at the moment. He may be a sort of coward, a paranoid old man, sickly and frail, but one thing was for certain: his sons were smart, strong, loyal, and fit for the throne. Well, two of them were.

Prince Ace was the eldest. He was quite the heartthrob. Not only was he devilishly handsome, but he was also kind to anyone, regardless of noble status. He had an air of royalty. You could tell he was of high birth not only because of the luxurious clothes he wore, but because of the way he carried himself.

His shoulders were pushed back whenever he walked, head held high, and chin up. He was cunning, strategic, and a decorated war general. The citizenry admired him for it, and it was generally accepted fact that, as both the first-born and the one most fit to rule, he would take his father’s place when the moment came. And the moment was quickly approaching. He had been out of the palace on business for quite some time.

Prince Sabo, younger than him by just a few months, was similarly regal, but it had been three years since you’d seen him, as he was off on diplomacy business with a neighboring country, and, rumors said, secretly engaged to a princess, who had been promised to him since birth.

The youngest son, however, seemed like quite the opposite of both.

You hadn’t worked in the palace for long before you started to become acquainted with Prince Luffy through rumors. His presence was said to be loud, unavoidable, noisy, and overbearing. He seemed to live in his own little world. He couldn’t be asked to do or care about much, other than whatever fit his fancy for fleeting moments at a time. He neglected every responsibility he had, scorned relatives with poor manners, and refused to engage in governmental affairs or bureaucracy. Some whispered that he didn’t even want to be a prince.

His brothers were often out of the palace, frequenting neighboring nations, visiting distant battlefields, and meeting diplomats, as princes do. But Prince Luffy was out of the palace for vastly different reasons. He traveled for fun, did whatever he felt like with his friends, threw parties, and generally caused a mess wherever he went. He was rarely home, and both the emperor and his older brothers thought of this with relief.

Of course, this was never the case initially.

In his adolescence, the emperor tried to get Prince Luffy to do the things princes usually do. He tried to get him to participate in noble business, sit at war tables and strategic meetings with the higher courts, to fraternize with the rulers from other countries (and their daughters), and so on. But after years, the emperor decided that Prince Luffy was a lost cause.

Seeing that Prince Luffy harbored no ill-will towards his brothers and had no misapprehension that he would take the throne someday, the emperor figured this was for the best. He was too exhausted to care, after a certain point. Too paranoid and occupied with other things to pay much attention to Prince Luffy.

The kingdom bordered the sea, and the youngest son spent most of his time sailing with his favorite band of ruffians that he lovingly referred to as his crew. As long as he didn’t start any wars, and as long as he settled down someday with a wife, the emperor decided that Prince Luffy could have free range. No amount of exploring on the sea, however, would exclude Prince Luffy from the fact that he had noble blood and obligations at home. No amount of escapism would render these facts null. But his brothers always thought that maybe Prince Luffy would manage to avoid those obligations altogether by some twist of fate.

But back to your job. You ‘specialized’ in bathing rituals and massage. These were easy enough skills to learn, and the palace demanded a plethora of workers adept at all kinds of relaxation methods, so you were always busy.

Recently you got a sort of promotion. One of the older women in your department slipped on the tile in the bathhouse and it rendered her, for a time, unable to work. The lady who ran the whole team of fifty or sixty-odd masseuses picked you out, for some reason. You were to take over for the injured woman for as long as it took her to heal, and the estimated recovery time was around six months.

Your mind immediately got to calculating. In six months, surely you could surpass the woman whose position you were filling. She was old as bones, first off, and she didn’t seem as eager to work as you. You were desperate for money, to the point where you’d do almost anything, and you actively sought out more responsibilities in the palace. But it was always a balancing game. You wanted to make yourself essential to the staff, but also didn’t want to draw too much attention. It seemed at times that this was an impossible game to play. But you figured you could try your hardest to turn the tides in your favor for longer-term employment at this level, and, of course, higher wages.

Before your temporary promotion, you worked mainly in the smaller bathhouse. You performed scrub and massage treatments for nobility, their guests, and the like. But this new promotion would send you outside of the bathhouse on occasion. You were now on standby to do house-calls, of sorts. If nobility requested a certain service in their room quarters and your coworkers were busy, it would be your duty to go pick up the slack.

What concerned you the most was that there were only three people on this new team, you being one of them. There were many times where the other two ladies on the team were too busy for your own comfort. In other words, they were so busy that you knew you’d have to venture out of the bathhouse someday soon. The thought made you nervous, so much so that when the time rolled around for your first visit to a nobleperson’s living quarters, you were shaking like a leaf, sick with anxiety that you were going to screw it all up somehow.

Your first house call was to some random and very distant cousin of the emperor’s late wife. She was nice enough, but you noticed, as you always do, the small ways that nobility treat commonfolk as less than. Some of them had plain disgust written all over their faces when you were nearby. Others looked down their noses at you, clicked their tongues, snapped their fingers, and talked to you like you were stupid. But whenever you started what you were called there to do—a massage or a bathing ritual, like a multi-step pampering scrub or mask—they almost morphed into semi-normal people.

After you performed a service for them, after they saw how skilled, methodological, and attentive you were to every step of the process, you could see their whole demeanor shift.

Respect. You gained their respect, only after providing something to them. Before proving your utility, you would be treated by some as a waste of space, an irritant, an annoyance, irrelevant. But afterwards they always seemed to look you straight in the eyes. 

You walked away from your first house call less nervous and more perplexed by the change in the noblewoman’s demeanor. You wondered if that would be a common occurrence. It was.

A few weeks passed and you got more comfortable with the house calls. You got more comfortable seeing the ridiculously adorned living quarters, the gold-covered walls, canopies of rich colors, atriums, plants, incense, and, almost every time, seeing the gazes shift from disdain to respect.

After a while, you started to become personally requested, individually singled out. It was concerning. The balancing game you were playing? You were playing it wrong, evidently, because you started to get noticed.

One of your coworkers pulled you to the side one day and whispered something to you. Her name was Aaliyah. She was close to your age and especially kind. You considered her some kind of friend, though you generally avoided befriending coworkers.

“You know,” she started in a low voice, eyes shifting around to see if anyone would notice. “I remember that you said before you wanted to blend in. But I’ve heard whisperings circulating around that you’re really good at giving massages and scrubs and stuff. If you’re not careful, the royal family might catch word of it. You know they’re always curious about this stuff… so just be careful, ‘kay? Don’t want to attract too much attention, right?”

You gave her a severe look and whispered back. “Wait, are you serious?”

She nodded. “I heard one of the older ladies talking about how you’re getting requested so much she thinks you’ll start getting pulled for services for the inner family soon if you keep it up. Just had to tell you.”

You shivered. “Thanks for the heads up. Fuck.”

The next couple weeks were eventful. You found out that the old lady whose position you were temporarily filling was more injured than initially thought. So, you’d be in this position longer than anticipated. Longer than the initial period of six months you had been planning on. But that was good news for you.

Were you going to be able to keep things lowkey until then? Could you maintain your place comfortably in the middle rungs of the palace employment, going under the radar, being essential but not too essential? Could you dodge being noticed by the higher nobility for another year?

Maybe you could pull it off. Stop putting in so much effort, you told yourself. Calm your attention to detail, your perfectionist tendencies, your desire to be good at what you do. Allow a slip up here and then. Less effort. Maybe be late a couple times. That’d fix things, right? Smooth things over?

It didn’t.

---

It hadn’t been more than a week before you were asked to provide a service for someone closer to the emperor’s immediate family.

You just never knew with these people. They were touchy. The emperor’s punishments for insolence weren’t too bad, but for treason? They were brutal. Life ending. You never wanted to risk it. You never wanted to even be in a place where someone could accuse you of something, or to be too close to the wrong people at the wrong time. It was troubling. But it’s not like you had any place to say no when it came to being individually requested.

The service you were requested for was a spa treatment for the emperor’s aunt. She was a sweet old woman, maybe around 80 years old, who was renowned for being too nice to waitstaff, speaking out of turn, and treating the emperor like he was still a child. She didn’t give a damn for decorum, noble manners, or tradition. Some people spoke poorly of her for it, but you were intrigued by her reputation.

When you stepped into her living quarters, you were shocked by the simplicity. She was kind, gestured to somewhere you could put the huge tray you had to carry, and offered you a place to sit while you discussed what sorts of masks and scrubs you could offer her. This may seem inconsequential, but it was strikingly different than members of her extended family who demanded lists and barked out orders.

You agreed on a multi-step spa ritual. She led you over to her expansive bathroom, decked out in clean marble and glass surfaces—only the best for royalty. It was spotless. It smelled good. It was a night and day difference from the bathing quarters that you, as a member of waitstaff, were designated to.

The old woman undressed. This was part of your job, so you were unphased. You started by applying oil to her scalp and hair and wrapping it up in a freshly steamed towel. While she sat, letting the oil soak in, you got the bath ready and made sure the room got steamy and hot.

When the room was so filled with steam it felt suffocating, you helped the old woman get in the bath, which was filled with shallow, steaming-hot water. You applied black soap to her arms, legs, and torso, then washed her off carefully.

She was smiling at how enjoyable it was to be pampered. Kindness and calmness radiated off of her. It made you like her more. Her skin was crepey, soft, and a deep olive color from her favorite pastime of sunbathing.

After washing her off, you did a deep scrub on her arms and legs, applied another mask of sorts to her body, washed it off, used an exfoliating cloth… the steps went on. This was an hour and a half long process. You were sweating, sleeves rolled up, working carefully. During one of the rinses, she said something that caught you off guard.

“You’re too young and pretty to do this job,” she rasped out so quietly you had to still your hands and lean in. “What are you doing working so hard in the palace? You ought to be married by your age. Surely you have no shortage of suitors. I wonder why you don’t marry up in wealth and social status.”

You had to pick your jaw off the floor. None of the nobility had said anything like this before—in fact, it felt like none of them until that point had even seen you as an actual person.

“O-oh, uh,” you stuttered, unsure of the proper response to someone so above you in every facet of life. “You’re too kind. Thank you, madam.”

“I know a few young men who would be happy with someone as pretty as you for a wife. Regardless of social status. Maybe I’ll introduce you sometime…” Her voice trailed off. You didn’t know what else to say other than do a customer service half-laugh and thank her.

Neither of you said a word for the rest of the service. You toweled her off, applied lotion, and helped her put on a white, plush robe. Guiding her back to her room, you helped her get seated, got her a cup of tea, and bowed before leaving the room.

When you went to grab the door handle, she spoke again. “Put some thought into it.”

You thanked, bowed again, and left the room quickly.

What was that?

That was weird. You shook your head as you hurried off, unnerved by the candor and directness with which she spoke to you and saw you. You knew better than to count on anyone for anything, let alone those above you. Surely, she wasn’t serious about introducing you to anyone. Hopefully you wouldn’t see her again, lest she make trouble for you or ask questions that were too intrusive.

---

The next day, the palace was up in arms over the return of Prince Luffy from a long journey at sea. It had been over two years since he stepped foot in the palace. He was only returning this time because he was injured. Or at least, that’s what you heard through the grapevine.

After a session of gossiping with the bathhouse staff, you and a handful of coworkers were ordered to restock supplies in a sauna area closer to the emperor’s quarters than was usual. You went in a large group, each carrying a tray filled with clay pots and towels.

To your surprise, you caught a glimpse of the prince from afar—the whole corridor was in a commotion as he stalked down the large hallway, followed by a squadron of guards, his personal waitstaff (which he had, allegedly, tried to get rid of many times over), and court staff trying to get him to do administrative, princely duties. They had scrolls and tablets. It looked like he was deliberately walking fast enough to shake them. Some of the entourage was running to keep up.

The group following the prince must have been twenty people. You barely saw him, surrounded by your coworkers caught in the uproar of whispers, stares, murmurs, people pushing and shoving, trying to get a glimpse of him.

He had dark hair. You knew that already. His robes were crimson, bandages visible over his chest that would usually be bare in his traditional garb. From this distance, you could barely make out his facial expression. He looked pissed off, like he was scowling, in a rotten mood. You were glad to not be in his way.

---

“You’ve got an interesting request,” one of the ladies above you in the spa team ushered you over to her later that day. “I couldn’t believe my eyes at first but sure enough, it’s real, my dear.”

She pulled a scroll from her pocket and opened it slowly. It read:

“Request for the youngest and newest member of the inner team of masseuses and spa workers for the Office of Care and Medicinal Practices for the Assurance of Health of the Royal Family: report to the west-facing living quarters of the anterior of the inner palace for scrub and spa treatment at dusk.”

You looked at her flatly. So what? Just another request? You had no clue what the big idea was.

“Noted, madam. I will prepare accordingly.” You responded evenly, trying to not let your confusion show on your face in case these were details you were supposed to know beforehand, or know something about.

“Do you know what that means?” She asked, pointing at the last line of the scroll. “Do you know whose quarters those are?”

Fuck.

“No, madam, my apologies.”

“Those are Prince Luffy’s quarters, my dear.”

Her words went in one ear and out the other. You went silent for a second, trying to process and understand what could have gone wrong for you to be requested there.

“There must be some mistake,” you blurted out. “Surely, there is some mistake.”

“I thought it was a mistake as well. But I went and checked with the head of his waitstaff team, and they told me that you had been recommended to the prince directly, by his great aunt. Prepare your working materials and head there near sunset. Good luck.”

She handed you the scroll (which would serve as your entry pass) and shuffled off.

Your stomach sank.

Performing a spa service for one of the princes? How on earth was this your lot at the moment? This was way out of left field—ridiculous, uncalled for, concerning, absurd—and far more than you bargained for. More than you could chew. You felt a knot of nerves ball up inside of you before you realized you had maybe an hour to prepare.

You had no idea what sort of things the prince would request. The summons didn’t have any details either. Panicking, you squeezed everything you possibly could onto your tray, washed your hands, and changed into a fresh pair of robes.

The hour passed like it was a matter of seconds. Before you knew it, the sun was starting to set.

next chapter >

Inspiration: This fanart of Luffy, Ace, and Sabo. (if the link doesn’t work, or if it links directly to my twitter, lmk plz LOL). Lots of Arabic music (in particular, Mesaytara by Lamis Kan… if you’re curious about where the story is going, look at the lyrics in English). I’m thinking this palace, and the kingdom altogether, are kind of a crossover of a few different cultures, a fictional melding together of aesthetics that have been swimming around in my head. Also, obviously, Apothecary Diaries was on my mind.

Thanks so much for reading! I'll drop part two on Friday or earlier if i'm feeling bold. Here's my masterlist.

[anunusualghost]

Let’s Make Something to Keep me in Your Head

‼️SMUT! NSFW! ‼️

Senku x Reader

Synopsis: It’s the night before the planned attack on the American colony, and you spend the last few moments with Senku before he sets sail in a chase you don’t know how it’ll end.

Song inspo: For You To Play-Orgavsm

...

'Cause I hate it when you’re gone.

What if you forget me?

Your lips fervently lock around Senku’s—quick, messy, and uncoordinated- moving with passion rather than reason. You dig your fingers into his hair, pulling him closer—unconsciously trying to keep him as close as possible for as long as you can- afraid the second you let go, he’ll be gone.

Senku reciprocates the passion of your kiss with his own. His tongue pushes past yours, moaning softly as he feels you pressing against him- locking your legs around his waist. The second your lips pull away from his, you're gasping for air, your chest heaving against him. You can feel the drool from the kiss leaking from the sides of your mouth, but Senku doesn’t waste a second, ignoring his own heavy panting - his need for air - his lips attack your neck. You’re crying out gently as he sucks harshly on your skin, marking and bruising your once pure skin.

Your eyes are squeezed shut as you feel Senku’s hips pressing against yours—no rhythm or pattern- all erratic- void of any thought. Your fingers run down from his hair down towards his chest- shoving his tunic off his shoulders, all the while his lips bite down on your shoulder- his own hands shoving down your clothing. It’s messy and uncoordinated - limbs getting in the way of each other, attempting to rid the other of their clothing.

“You’re drenched,” Senku mutters in utter shock, his usual teasing tone gone. You can feel your skin go hot from his words, turning your face away from his, as you spread your legs further for him, allowing him to see you fully.

Oh, let’s make something to keep me in your head.

Senku pushes in slowly, groaning as he feels you squeezing around him. He can feel your hands squeezing his, your tears falling onto his back. He pulls out gently, hearing you gasp as you continue to squeeze him, locking your legs around his back, your heels digging into him. He looks down at you, his eyes locking with your tearful eyes- you nod weakly back at him.

He pushes back in, his face nearing yours until his lips find yours again. You moan into his mouth as he thrusts gently into you.

I’ll do all that you want, baby, there ain’t no limits, darling.

You don’t know how long you’ve been caged under Senku, his hips snapping against yours. You don’t know how long you’ve been in his quarters, moans and whines bouncing off the walls as he makes a mess of you- your slick running down your thighs and rubbing off onto Senku. The sounds of your arousal add to the sound of his skin meeting yours.

I’d rather you stay, so we could keep going…

Tears are running down your eyes as you arch against the bed. You're chanting his name like a prayer- your stomach tightening as you dig your nails into his back. His hips begin to move against yours frantically, his breathing erratic. You can feel him panting against your neck.

You don’t try to push him away- your legs stay wrapped around his waist in a deadly vice. Senku doesn’t attempt to break away either- he doesn’t try to pull out from inside you.

…but if you’ve gotta leave, then baby, no point in slowing

…

@smokefilm THIS IS SUCH AN OVERDUE THANK YOU BUT THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR RECOMMENDING THIS SONG!

A/n: Let me know what you think! If you got any criticism/advice I’m open to it!!! I’m not the greatest at smut and I’m trying to improve!

[anunusualghost]

i BREATHE for lowkey clingy senku bruh 💔 especially after the petrification and even more especially after humanity is back up and running

Senku is definitely a bit clingy after the petrification!

Before he was much more subtle and “nonchalant” with his affections for his S/O. Small things like letting them hold onto him or having a hand on their back and guiding them in crowds.

But the petrification is a bit of an eye opener for him. He values his loved ones 1000% more than he already did. When his S/O is revived he always wants them near and finds comfort in their presence, it grounds him. It’s not very noticeable to people who don’t know him as well, but to people like Taiju and Yuzuriha? They see it clearly.

Somehow when everyone is working Senku always ends up next to his S/O. Doesn’t even matter if he started working in a whole other area. Gen swears he can teleport. In his down time, when he’s granted it that is, he likes to sit under a tree with his S/O. , their back to his chest and his chin on their head. He says it’s because, “If I have to touch grass, so do you.”

Once civilization is revitalized his work isn’t done, but he has more time to spend with his S/O. He wants to make up for the teenage things they missed out on. They had to grow up fast, so he wants to take them back in time in a sense(haha get it). He takes his S/O out on the dates they would have had before. Picnics, movies when they start to be made again, star gazing, you name it. And all the while, he’s touching his S/O in some way. It’s subconscious, like he’s scared they’ll disappear.

[anunusualghost]

DRAWN TO YOU. || s. ishigami

Rebuilding the world takes time. So does love. But gravity doesn't ask for permission. The tides don't apologize You've always been drawn to him. And him, to you.

| fic masterlist. | song of the chapter.

iii. judgement | 15.5k words

The forests’ canopy thinned as you four stepped into the clearing, and for a brief moment, everything stilled. Wind shifted through the trees. Sunlight cut gold across the ground. And Tsukasa stopped walking.

His sharp eyes swept over the site before him—hand-built huts, a fire pit that’s long been put out, bundles of drying herbs and makeshift tools and spears. There was even a wooden sign carved with blocky letters that read LABORATORY, hammered crookedly above a small structure cobbled together with wooden planks and twine.

“Interesting,” Tsukasa murmured, half to himself. “You guys built all this?”

Senku, already halfway up the ladder to his tree-top lookout, glanced down. “Sure did.”

Just below, Taiju lingered beside the stone form of Yuzuriha, her preserved body propped gently against a nearby tree. His voice dropped tenderly. “Hang on just a little longer, Yuzuriha. We’ll bring you back as soon as we get more of that miracle water… the something-or-other acid.”

Tsukasa’s gaze lingered on the stone girl. Then back at the site, he walked forward, his steps slow and measured, and tilted his head at the sign above the hut.

“Huh… You’ve got a laboratory?” he said softly, more out of curiosity than surprise. It wasn’t directed at anyone in particular—Senku was already out of earshot, adjusting something up in his lookout hut. And it’s not like Taiju was paying him any attention. 

“Yep,” you said, stepping forward. “You’ve officially entered the Stone Age Science Department.”

Tsukasa turned toward you, eyes flicking over your face—not assessing, not exactly. Just… reading. It unnerved you a bit. You couldn’t seem to get a read on him.  

His expression was mild, pleasant even, but too composed. Like someone who was always thinking two steps ahead. His eyes, warm brown and insanely calm, gave away nothing. No judgment, no interest, no disdain. Just… quiet consideration. And for some reason, that felt worse.

You shifted slightly under the weight of his gaze, more aware of your posture than you wanted to be.

Most people in this world wore their emotions on their sleeves—like Taiju, for example. He could barely contain a single thought without blurting it aloud. Senku, though, was a different story. It took you a while to read him, even though you clicked with him almost immediately. He didn’t emote the way everyone else did—at least not normally. His energy was restless, like a nuclear bomb ready to explode. But over time, you learned to understand the complicated language of him.

The way his fingers twitched when he was itching to get his hands on something—most likely a new experiment. You noticed how his knee would bounce when his thoughts were spinning faster than he could explain. Saw the slight squint of his eyes when someone said something scientifically incorrect—like it physically pained him not to correct them.

You noticed how he tapped his pen—or an eraser, or, on the rare occasions when you were allowed to sit near one another, how your fingers would end up intertwined with his, his own digits twisting or tugging at any rings you wore—basically anything within reach—in tight, repetitive patterns when he was focused. How he’d run his tongue along the inside of his cheek and furrowed his brow when he was trying not to snap. You studied him like he was the only book worth reading, and it paid off. His irritation, his excitement, his rare flickers of pride—they were all there if you knew what to look for.

But Tsukasa? His calm wasn't laziness. It was deliberate. Measured. He only acted upon things that seemed efficient for him. 

And the way he was looking at you now… it felt like being studied by a predator who hadn’t decided if you were prey. Not in a threatening way—at least not yet—but in a way that said he could be dangerous. If he wanted to be.

And the worse part… you couldn’t tell if that was entirely a bad thing.

Tsukasa lets out a quiet huff, “I don’t doubt that. You’ve built quite a bit, considering how long you’ve been awake.”

And you finally remember the conversation—if you can even call it one—at hand. You didn’t answer right away. His tone wasn’t accusatory—just observant—but something about it rubbed at the ends of your nerves. Like he was pulling on a long, tangled thread you weren’t ready to unravel. Still, he wasn’t wrong.

Senku had been the first to wake. Alone. Months before anyone else, clawing his way out of stone and into the ruins of a world that had long since stopped running the way it used to. He spent weeks scouring what was left of humanity and longer still deciphering the miracle fluid—collecting nitric acid, recreating the right ratios, testing and testing until something worked. It took nearly half a year to bring back Taiju. Another stretch of time passed before they revived you.

Six months of patient planning, trial, error, and something more akin to faith than science—just to make sure you’d wake up safe.

You knew because Senku had told you. Not in a bragging way. Just… plainly. Like it was obvious. Like of course he waited. Of course he wanted to do it right. Whatever ‘right’ meant in a crumbling society with a population of 2 people.

And then Yuzuriha. She was supposed to be next. The final piece to your group, and complicated puzzle before you all embarked on the true mission of eventually reviving everyone.

But instead, Tsukasa had emerged. 

A necessary move, but still unexpected. A calculated risk that you had no way of knowing if it would pay off in the end.

Tsukasa’s gaze moved past you then, settling on Yuzuriha’s stone form, propped carefully beneath a tree like she was only asleep. The faint crease between his brows softened. “It’s good you have each other,” he said. “Most people wouldn’t have made it this far alone.”

You followed his gaze, and your chest tightened. Yuzuriha’s face was so serene, so untouched. Like she’d never known the world could end.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “We’re lucky.”

Tsukasa didn’t respond. He just nodded once—more to himself than to you—and turned his attention back to the settlement.

The creak of wood underfoot signaled the slow ascent up the rope ladder, one after the other, into the makeshift shelter nestled high in the trees. A repurposed watchtower of sorts—Senku’s domain of blueprints, clay sketches, and carefully stored minerals. Sunlight filtered through the canopy in fractured beams, casting gold across the roughly patched walls. The air smelled like old wood, ozone, and something faintly metallic.

You sat cross-legged on a rolled mat, fingers absently tracing the ridges in the bark floor while Tsukasa ducked into the space, straightening to his full height with a quiet sort of grace. He took in the cramped lab with a flick of his eyes—observant but unintrusive.

Then he turned toward you, toward all of you gathered loosely around the center.

“Let me introduce myself properly,” he said, voice steady, casual but not careless. “I’m Shishio Tsukasa. But you can just call me Tsukasa.”

“Last names don’t really mean much in this world, do they?” Senku said, arms crossed as he leaned back on his heels, clearly watching for a reaction.

“I’m Senku,” he added, blunt and unbothered. “The sane one who’s in charge of science.”

He didn’t gesture, but his tone changed just slightly as he went on. “That’s Taiju, the simple one who’s in charge of heavy lifting.”

Taiju stepped forward first, eyes bright and hand outstretched like he hadn’t just met the strongest man alive. “I’m Taiju! The simple one!” he said with a laugh, shaking Tsukasa’s hand like they were old companions.

You barely held back a laugh.

Tsukasa took it all in stride, expression unreadable but definitely watching—measuring, maybe. Then his gaze slid over to you.

“And you?”

His voice wasn’t demanding, but it carried the weight of someone used to answers. His eyes were back on you now—steady, unreadable, that same calm calculation threading through them like spiders silk through a needle.

You straightened up from where you’d once been sitting on the wooden floor, brushing a bit of dust from your sleeve with a theatrical little flick—like you were about to take a bow on some makeshift stage. “And I—”

“You can ignore most of what she says,” Senku interjected flatly, not even bothering to glance up from the small project in his hands. “Chronically indecisive, occasional hypochondriac, pathological nuisance—and, if you catch her on a good day, vaguely helpful in keeping us from dying of infection.”

You blinked, mouth still half-open, the introduction catching mid-air. “Pathological nuisance?” you echoed, narrowing your eyes. “Excuse you, if it weren’t for me, your weak-ass immune system would’ve tapped out on Day Three.”

Senku didn’t miss a beat. “Sure. Thank you for your dedicated service, Dr. Overreaction.”

“Love to see your scrawny ass make it through winter alone,” you muttered, folding your arms across your chest—but not before the corner of your mouth twitched. Just slightly.

Senku’s smirk mirrored yours, subtle but unmistakable. It wasn’t warmth, exactly, or sentiment—but it was familiar in his own weird, standoffish way. The kind of dry, deadpan exchange only the two of you would find funny. A silent equation solved between glances—unspoken, precise, and weirdly comforting. The kind of thing that reminded you why you stuck around, even on the days when your own mind was a little too loud.

Still, the weight of someone else’s attention hung in the air—heavier now, somehow.

You shifted, just enough to glance to the side.

Tsukasa was watching.

Not in a rude way. Not even intense. Just… observant. Careful. The kind of gaze that didn’t flinch or drift or apologize. The kind that made you aware of every inch of yourself—your posture, your tone, the way you’d fumble with your hands when nervous.

He wasn’t watching the banter like it was a joke.

He was studying it. Studying you.

Noticing the hitch in your voice. The glance down before you pulled yourself together again. Like he was memorizing patterns, reading a language he wasn’t fluent in yet—but had every intention of mastering.

It made your skin crawl, just a little.

Not because he seemed hostile. But because he didn’t. Because whatever conclusions he was drawing—he kept them to himself.

And somehow, that felt worse than if he had said something. At least then you’d know what page he was on.

You told yourself it wasn’t fair. That he hadn’t done anything wrong. Hadn’t been rude or cold or anything to deserve that kind of wariness—well, besides punting a lion through the forest. But even then, that was to save the rest of you. Still, the unease lingered. Guilt crept in right behind it.

You didn’t like that feeling. The way it coiled up in your ribs.

You weren’t trying to judge him.

But some part of you already was.

You crossed your arms, eyes drifting away from his profile. Maybe you were overthinking it. Wouldn’t be the first time. He hadn’t earned your suspicion. If anything, you were the one holding too tightly to the old habit that’s probably done you more harm than good.

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, your fingers restless at your side.

“So you’re a—” Tsukasa tried to speak up, but was interrupted.

Grrggkk—

The sound came low and loud, like something ancient had just stirred beneath the floorboards. Your head snapped toward it, alarm jumping instinctively in your chest.

Taiju blinked owlishly, both hands wrapping around his stomach. “...Was that me?”

You stared unimpressed. “Seriously, Taiju…” you muttered, dragging a hand down your face. “You couldn’t have waited five more seconds to digest quietly?”

A beat of silence passed, heavy with secondhand embarrassment.

Tsukasa’s brow lifted, but he didn’t look away. If anything, he seemed faintly amused. “What exactly have you all been eating?”

You didn’t miss a beat. “Regret,” you said flatly. “Regret and moral compromise.”

A pause. Then, without looking up, you added, “And oversalted mushrooms,” aiming a pointed glance in Senku’s direction.

Senku didn’t even pretend to look guilty. He just shrugged and shifted his weight to stretch, one arm pressing to the small of his back with a grimace. “Mostly wild greens. Mushrooms. Occasionally a rabbit, if luck decides to throw us a bone.”

“Luck,” you echoed under your breath, brushing a speck of dust off your sleeve. “If you count slowly starving to death as a form of luck.”

Tsukasa’s mouth twitched at the corner—barely there, but noticeable. A flicker of something softer, maybe even a little entertained. “Well,” he said, stepping toward the window and peering out past the foliage, “you won’t have to live like that any longer.”

The light filtering through the canopy dappled across his shoulders as he scanned the tree line, his posture effortless but alert. “I’ll handle hunting and defense. You’ll have meat again—real meat. No more chewing on disappointment.”

Taiju nearly vibrated beside you, a grin splitting across his face. His eyes were practically sparkling with cartoonish joy. “This is awesome! All I ever dream about lately is eating meat until my belly’s about to explode!”

You leaned against the post of the shelter, arms crossed, and gave a half-lidded look of mock sympathy. “Well this must seem like a fever dream for you, huh,” you deadpanned.

Tsukasa didn’t turn from the tree line. Didn’t crack a smile. But his voice was steady, final. “Now that I’m on your side,” he said, quiet and certain, “you’ll never go hungry again.”

He was true to his word. 

Tsukasa did handle all of the hunting.

You watched him sprint after a wild boar—fast. Faster than you’d ever seen anyone move, like the forest itself had cleared a path for him. The animal barely made a sound before it dropped. 

Later, he scaled a tree like it was second nature, hands curling around branches with the ease of instinct. When he dropped back down, he held a bird in one hand—neck limp, wings trailing like fallen leaves. He hadn’t even ruffled a feather.

And then the river.

You’d glanced up to the splash of movement—there he was, waist-deep in the current, soaked to the skin and unbothered by it. His grip on the makeshift spear was sure, eyes narrowed just slightly. Focused. Patient. Until—

One quick jab. A flick of silver. Then another. And another. He emerged from the water with a bundle of fish slung through a twist of twine, dripping and glistening in the sunlight like something out of a fable.

You didn’t say anything.

Just watched from the riverbank, one arm slung over your knee, teeth worrying your bottom lip.

⏾𖤓

Later, the four of you had gathered by the shore.

The sun was dipping low, casting everything in amber, and the breeze carried the thick scent of salt and smoke. A little ways back from the surf, Senku knelt over a crude rack he’d rigged up from twigs and vines, the last of the fish hanging above a controlled column of curling gray smoke. The rest of the meat Tsukasa had caught—cleaned, salted, expertly portioned—was already set aside.

Taiju hovered nearby, visibly vibrating, his eyes glossy with hunger. “So if you cook it immediately,” he said slowly, watching the fish intently, “you don’t… need a fridge to keep it from going bad?”

You dragged a hand down your face. “I pray for whatever goes on up there in your brain, Taiju…”

Senku didn’t even glance up. “I’m not cooking the fish. I’m using the aldehydes in the smoke to kill the microbes.” He adjusted a few stones to redirect the airflow, casually dodging the smoke curling toward his face. “In words your feeble brain can understand: I’m smoking them.”

“Smoking them,” Taiju repeated reverently, eyes practically shining. “Like… smart cooking!”

Tsukasa sat nearby, his arms loosely draped over his knees as he watched the process. “With me and Senku working together,” he said calmly, “we should have plenty of preserved food for a while.”

A low, agonized sound escaped Taiju as another wave of savory smoke drifted past him. He leaned forward, hands on his thighs like the smell alone was physically painful. “I’m gonna die before it’s even done! The smell is too good—it’s cruel.”

Senku finally rose to his feet with a sharp crack of his neck, spine stretching like it had been holding civilization together on its own.

“Well, we can finally take the first real step toward civilization now,” he said, eyes shining bright with excitement.

Taiju nearly fell over. “SO WE’VE BEEN ON STEP ZERO THIS WHOLE TIME?!”

You leaned back on your elbows, staring up at the dusky sky, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Step zero,” you groaned, “and I already want to retire.”

Senku didn’t miss a beat. From where he stood near the smoking rack, he glanced over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “You can retire once civilization is up and running. For now—” he tossed a small twig onto the fire for emphasis, “—we’re gonna need you, doc. So try not to up and run on us.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes—but it was half-hearted at best. “Yeah yeah. No promises.”

The fire crackled softly beside you, its smoke curling lazily into the dusk. For a moment, things felt still. Not peaceful, exactly, but settled in that rare kind of way—like everything else had paused just long enough for the world to catch its breath. You leaned back into your palms, eyes drifting to the shifting colors in the sky, your body heavy with the day’s exhaustion.

But then, through your peripheral vision, Tsukasa moved.

He stepped away from the group without a word, heading toward a large, jagged rock at the edge of the clearing. The quiet crunch of his footsteps in the sand drew everyone’s attention.

You sat up straighter, frowning slightly.

Taiju turned his head, blinking. “Huh?”

Senku’s arms remained crossed, his expression unreadable, but his eyes followed Tsukasa’s, unblinking, calculating.

“Hey, Tsukasa,” Taiju called out, his voice laced with confusion. “What’s wrong?”

There was no response. Just the slow walk—then a halt beside one of the larger rocks near the edge of the clearing.

And then, without warning, a sudden, sharp yell—followed by the crack of stone.

You flinched.

The rock shattered under Tsukasa’s fist, splitting clean down the middle.Dust plumed into the air in soft clouds as shards of the rock tumbled down in uneven chunks.

Everyone was still. Even the fire seemed quiet.

You watched, breath caught, as the dust began to clear. Tsukasa stood at the center of the wreckage, his fist slowly lowering, the muscles in his arm still tensed from the impact.

But he wasn’t looking at the broken stone.

He crouched beside it, reaching into the rubble with careful hands, sweeping debris aside. Something pale and human-shaped began to emerge. It took a second to register what you were seeing—until the shape became clearer. A statue.

Taiju gasped again, eyes widening. “Wha—was that—?”

She was curled in on herself—arms up, knees drawn in. As if shielding herself in the final moment. Her face was turned slightly, mouth parted in the middle of a breath that had never finished. The pose was almost too human—too desperate.

Tsukasa knelt, brushing the residual gravel from her face with a quiet reverence. Then, without hesitation, he slipped one arm under her legs, the other at her back, and lifted her from the sand as if she weighed nothing.

Turning to face them again, he spoke evenly. “Sorry if I startled you.”

He carried her a few paces before kneeling beside a flatter rock, easing the statue down like someone laying a person to rest. “Just noticed this person buried under that rock.” he said simply, brushing the dust from his hands.

Taiju’s eyes softened as he stepped closer, lips twitching into a grin. “Told you he was a solid dude, didn’t I?”

Senku let out a low chuckle under his breath, the tension in his shoulders easing by degrees.

“It’s like having a superhero on our team, huh?” he said, watching Tsukasa from the corner of his eye.

You didn’t say anything.

But your gaze lingered on the fractured stone where the statue had been.

⏾𖤓

The sky had deepened into that burnished orange where sunset starts to blur into night, gold fading to bruised purple at the edges. The fire popped and cracked steadily behind you, the scent of woodsmoke clinging to your clothes, hair, skin. Embers floated up like tiny stars, chasing the last of its light.

Bellies were full. For once.

Taiju lay flat on his back in the sand, limbs sprawled out in every direction like someone had just dropped him from a great height. He patted his stomach with both hands, eyes shut, totally content. “My belly’s so full…” he groaned, dragging the words out like they physically weighed something. “It’s like I ate a whole cow.”

You rolled onto your side to look at him, one arm tucked under your head. The sight of his ridiculously round stomach—inflated like a beach ball—made you snort. “You look pregnant.”

Taiju wheezed a laugh without opening his eyes. “Maybe I am.”

You shook your head, dragging your fingers idly through the sand. A few quick strokes, and you started tracing lines without thinking—stars, spirals, anything to give your hands something to do. The grains of sand got stuck under your nails, but you didn’t mind.

By the fire, Senku was still crouched with his elbows on his knees, a long fish bone stretched between both hands like he was reading its future. The firelight reflected in his vermillion eyes. He hadn’t looked up once, but the grin spreading across his face was unmistakable.

“Alright,” he said, tone suspiciously dangerous, “time for a fun little pop quiz.”

You groaned instantly, loud and dramatic, flopping back like your soul had just left your body. “Why are you like this?”

He continued as if you hadn’t spoken. “For a technological civilization, what’s the most important component to have?”

He paused. Just long enough to make it irritating.

“Correct answer gets you ten billion points,” he added, smug as ever.

You sat up halfway, propping yourself up on your elbows, face already twisted in mock seriousness. “Oh, oh! I know!” You decided to play along, waving a hand enthusiastically in the air like a kid who didn’t actually know the answer but still wanted the attention.

“No, not you,” Senku deadpanned, without even glancing in your direction.

You dropped your hand with a groan, head falling back against the sand. “What’s the point of asking all of us if you’re just gonna pick someone to humiliate?”

Taiju sat up a little straighter, squinting hard like the question physically hurt his brain. He scratched his head, then rubbed his chin like a philosopher, eyes narrowing into deep, painful concentration.

“Well, it’s gotta be… something that’s, techy,” he said slowly. “But what exactly…”

You turned your head to watch him, amused.

He trailed off, face scrunching tighter and tighter—until finally, a lightbulb practically exploded above his head.

“I’ve got it!” He lit up suddenly, like he’d just cracked a divine code. He leapt to his feet and pointed both hands at Senku with the force of someone declaring a prophecy. “Smartphones!”

You just closed your eyes and prayed for his poor soul. Head dropping to shake in disappointment.

Senku turned to him with the fakest, most exaggerated smile you’d ever seen. Full teeth. Pure sarcasm.

“Oh sure!” he said, clapping his hands together. “Smartphones would be great, wouldn’t they?”

And then his entire face dropped flat. “We’re not jumping ten billion years into the future, dummy!”

Taiju recoiled, visibly wounded, and laughed nervously.

Tsukasa, who had been mostly silent, sitting off to the side with his arms resting loosely over his knees, spoke up at last. “Maybe… iron?” he offered, voice calm, thoughtful.

Senku actually considered it for a second. “Iron’s important. But not at this stage.” He pointed upward with a single finger. “There’s something even more essential.”

You huffed and flopped fully onto your back again, arms spread out like a starfish. “Why can’t I just say it? I get the most use out of it anyway.”

Senku raised an eyebrow. “Because it’s no fun if you get the answer right away.”

You scooped a fistful of sand and let it drizzle between your fingers. “Fuck you and your stupid point system.”

“Anyway,” he said, sitting back with a flourish like a game show host revealing the prize behind the curtain, “since you’re all out of guesses…”

“—it’s calcium carbonate.”

You groaned again, louder this time. “I could’ve told you that.”

He grinned. “And yet, you didn’t.”

You scowled, digging a rough line into the sand with your finger. “I’m taking your stupid points and shoving them right up your—!”

“Uhuh, save your breath,” Senku cut in smoothly, his pinkie twisting in his ear unamused, but his tone had a little too much satisfaction in it—like he enjoyed shutting you up.

Before you could retort, Taiju suddenly sat up with a jolt like he’d just solved the mystery of the universe.

“Of course!”

Everyone looked at him. His face was lit up with understanding—except it absolutely wasn’t.

“Once again,” he added cheerfully, “I have no idea what you’re saying!”

Tsukasa, who had been sitting quietly just a few paces away, offered a calm guess. “Do you mean lime?”

Senku snapped his fingers. “Yep. Let me think of a way to explain it so even someone like Taiju could understand.”

He tapped a finger to his chin in mock concentration, “It’s the stuff they use to mark athletic fields.”

Taiju’s eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas day. He gasped and shot up, pointing at senku once more. “Cool! So we’re gonna have to find a gym storage locker and grab some whatever-that-was carbonate?”

Senku’s entire expression froze. His lips twitched into a wide, terrifyingly fake smile.

“Oh sure! Yeah! Let’s just head to the gym,” he said, all teeth.

Then, instantly, the mask dropped. His face twisted into something feral, full of utter disbelief and rage.

“DON’T BE SUCH AN IDIOT! YOU THINK WE’LL FIND A GYM AFTER 3,700 YEARS?!”

A beat passed. Somewhere nearby, a wave crashed dramatically against the rocks.

You sighed too, dusting some of the excess sand off your arm. “Come on, Taiju. Think.”

You sat up, brushing hair from your face and shooting him a look. “You know those shells you’ve been using to shave that big, oafish face of yours?”

Senku picked one up from the sand beside him and held it between two fingers like a delicate petri specimen.

“If we pulverize them into a fine powder,” he continued, “we’ll have all the calcium carbonate we need.”

Taiju didn't wait to hear another word. He was already on his feet, suddenly energized like someone had flipped a switch. You had no idea where the basket came from—possibly summoned from his sheer enthusiasm—but he slung it over his back like a backpack and sprinted toward the shoreline.

“Well then! Looks like I’m needed for some serious brawn duty!”

You watched him go, one eyebrow arched, fighting back a laugh. “He really is something.”

Senku snorted, gaze following the big oaf’s retreating form. “That man is a golden retriever in human form,” he muttered, almost fondly.

You didn’t disagree.

⏾𖤓

Several coarse linen bags filled to the brim with soft, chalky powder.

Senku crouched beside one, his hand already buried in the fine white grains, expression glowing with exhilaration. He sifted it through his fingers like treasure, and then—because he just couldn’t help himself—he murmured with all the glee of a man high on chemistry:

“Calcium carbonate actually gets me excited.”

You didn’t even glance up. You were still hunched beside a flat slab of stone, pestle in hand, the muscles in your forearm flexing slightly as you helped grind down another handful of shells. Your bare legs were half-covered in sand, and you had your hair pulled back, skin glistening with salt and sweat. You rolled your eyes, letting a scoff pass your lips—but the smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth betrayed your amusement.

“Try not to blow your load prematurely,” you muttered, bone-dry, eyes still on your work.

Senku didn’t dignify it with a real response—not verbally at least. He shot you a slow, sidelong glance, mouth twitching like he was holding back either a laugh or a sigh. His gaze lingered for a second too long before he finally tore it away, brushing off his knees as he stood.

“Check it out,” he said instead, switching gears without missing a beat.

He held up four fingers like a teacher who couldn’t help himself, even if no one was technically enrolled in his class. His face lit up—not the sarcastic grin he wore when Taiju said something stupid, or the sly smirk he saved for mocking you—but with a real, unfiltered kind of excitement.

“There are four super useful things you can do with it.”

You didn’t answer, not at first. Your hands kept working, pestle scraping slow circles in the stone bowl, but your eyes flicked toward him. You didn’t mean to watch him the way you did—like gravity had just pulled your attention there. That excitement of his—it was infectious, even if you’d never admit it. Heaven forbid you feed into his already gigantic ego.

“First is agriculture,” he said, holding a finger up as he listed each of the compounds uses. “We can use it to neutralize acidic soil by blowing away the hydrogen ions. That’ll be a major upgrade for the farmland.”

“Second is construction,” Senku continued. “If we heat the calcium carbonate and mix it with sand, we get mortar. A less sophisticated cement. We can use it to build houses and furnaces.”

“Third is hygiene,” he added, tone dipping slightly—heavier.

You held up a still damp clump of seaweed you’d fished out earlier, a faint grin curling at your mouth. “Take calcium carbonate from seaweed,” you said, flicking a bit of saltwater at him for good measure. “Add oil, heat it up, and—ta-da! Basic saponification. Soap.”

Senku paused. Tilted his head at you like he wanted to argue the stolen spotlight, but couldn’t quite hide the flicker of pride that passed across his face. “I was getting to that,” he muttered, almost grinning.

You tossed him a look over your shoulder. “This world’s brutal. Getting sick means game over, remember?”

He nodded, suddenly serious again, tone softer. “A little bar that gets rid of harmful microbes is a lifesaver in a world without doctors.”

You stretched out a leg, the grass cool beneath you. “There’s only so much I can do at this stage of civilization,” you muttered, almost to yourself. 

“With the limited fauna and flora left around here—and most of it local stuff that barely scratches the surface medicinally—I’m kind of stuck. If anyone comes down with something serious, we’re screwed.”

He glanced over at you then. Really looked at you, like maybe he’d heard the quiet exhaustion beneath your voice—but all he said was, “We’ll fix that.”

You looked over at him, skeptical. “You say that like it’s easy.”

“It’s not,” he admitted. “But I intend to rebuild civilization exactly as it was. Every last bit of it. Medicine. Industry. Technology.” His voice gathered strength like momentum pulling downhill. “All of it. Down to the last microchip if I have to.”

You blinked at him. He wasn’t smiling—but he didn’t have to. That fire in his eyes said enough.

“And when we get there,” he added, a little quieter now,  “you won’t be stuck anymore.”

You huffed a quiet breath, something like a laugh caught halfway in your chest. The corners of your mouth twitched.

“Guess that means I’m stuck with you forever then, huh?”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “Ten billion percent correct!”

You snorted. “Ehh. I guess it’s not that bad. I’ve survived this long with whatever the hell you’ve got going on… what’s a little eternity?”

A few feet away, Tsukasa looked up from where he’d been silently watching. You hadn’t even realized he was listening. He just studied the two of you—something unreadable in his expression. Then, voice calm and even:

“I have to hand it to you, Senku. You’re pretty amazing.”

Senku didn’t look up right away. “Hm?”

Tsukasa took a step closer, his shadow flickering from the fire. “I mean, you freed me in the middle of a lion attack. Yet you were calm and spoke clearly.”

He paused, tone softening just enough to make the words feel genuine. “I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

“Yeah, truly one of a kind,” you muttered as you tossed another bit of crushed shell into the mortar bowl, not even glancing up. “An egocentric know-it-all is really a marvel of science.”

Senku scoffed, barely pausing his movement. “If someone’s got to know it all, better me than someone who used to think that dividing by zero would unlock infinite energy.

Your head snapped up, “Oh my god will you ever let that go? I was like—eight?!”

Tsukasa chuckled faintly, watching the back-and-forth with a glimmer of amusement. “You two make quite the pair.” Then letting his gaze settle on Senku again.

“You truly have my respect.”

Senku didn’t answer right away. He gave a sidelong glance, subtle and brief—but sharp all the same. Then he looked back down, scooping calcium carbonate into a shallow dish like the conversation had already ended.

The fire crackled beside him, casting thin wisps of smoke into the air. His hands moved with clinical precision, measuring without even needing to look.

“For the last ten billion years or so,” he said flatly, “almost without exception, a man who praises another to his face is either flirting or scheming.”

That earned a quiet snort from you.

“Aww, are you flirting with us now, Tsukasa?” you asked, keeping your tone light, trying to cut through the rising tension with a little edge of humor. “You sure you’re not just trying to sweep him off his feet? He’s pretty hard to please.”

Senku, however, didn’t laugh. He didn’t even smile. He looked up sharply, narrowed eyes locking on Tsukasa’s face. His voice, while still calm, dropped lower—more focused.

“So what are you getting at?”

His tone wasn’t explosive—it didn’t need to be. His eyes were venomous enough.Those crimson eyes, sharp and analytical, burned. Controlled. Calculated.

Tsukasa blinked, then furrowed his brow slightly, clearly not expecting the escalation. He gave a small, almost confused pout, but then his expression softened and he smiled.

“It’s nothing like that,” he said, exhaling a quiet chuckle. “I’m really not doing either one of those.”

He paused again, choosing his next words more carefully.

“I was just thinking…” His gaze landed firmly on Senku now. “If there’s anyone who could rebuild modern civilization from scratch—it’s you.”

Another beat. 

“Yeah,” he said simply, his voice settling. “That’s all I was trying to say.”

Senku didn’t respond. His posture didn’t shift—shoulders squared, gaze locked. Whatever easy rhythm had existed a few minutes ago had vanished. His expression was unreadable, but something colder lingered in his eyes now. Analytical. Like he was trying to solve Tsukasa the way he’d solve an equation—with absolute precision, no room for error.

Tsukasa stood over the both of you, his silhouette tall and unmoving, shadows cast long by the low-burning campfire. He wasn’t being aggressive, not exactly. But his presence commanded the space. You could tell he wasn’t expecting pushback—at least not this kind, anyway.

You glanced between them, internally wincing. The tension was too thick now, and you were absolutely not interested in becoming collateral damage. You shifted your weight, rubbing your hands together like you were brushing off excess dirt.

“I’m gonna go rinse off by the river,” you said, already backing away. “Shell dust’s starting to cling to everything ya’ know…”

Neither of them stopped you.

Thankfully, Taiju came barreling back just in time.

“Yo!” Taiju called out, breath hitching a little as he reappeared through the trees, arms full of snapped branches and dried brush. He dropped the bundle down between the three of you with a heavy thud, bits of bark scattering into the grass. “Got more for the fire!”

Perfect timing. You ducked away before anyone could rope you back in.

You didn’t look back.

Behind you, the boys carried on. 

Taiju rolled his shoulders with a groan, spine cracking faintly as he stretched. “Man,” he huffed, “so this is the kind of stuff you gotta do to build a civilization, huh?”

Senku finally looked away from Tsukasa, turning his focus to Taiju instead.

“That’s right,” he said, voice leveling out. “One step at a time. The journey is a slow one, that's for sure. But we keep on getting closer.”

Taiju gave a thoughtful nod. Then blinked. “So… are you just waiting for her to come back?”

Senku raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“You said there were four uses for the seashells,” Taiju said, puzzled, “but you only told us about three.” 

That caught Tsukasa’s attention again. He didn’t say anything, but the way his head turned—just slightly—made it clear he was listening again.

Senku looked up at him, something unreadable flickering across his face. Then he smiled, holding up three fingers.

“No, they’re only three.”

“I said three earlier. Didn’t I?”

“Oh! Did you?” Taiju frowned, scratching the back of his neck. “Huh. Maybe you did. Man, my memory is all screwed up!”

⏾𖤓

You were half-submerged in the river when you heard the soft patter of footsteps near the bank—barely audible over the quiet rush of water. At first, you figured it was a bird. Maybe some wild animal, rustling through the underbrush. Nothing worth worrying about.

Until it spoke.

You flinched, shoulders jerking out of the water as your head snapped toward the sound.

Sure enough—just your luck.

Senku.

He was crouched casually at the river’s edge, arms resting on his knees like this wasn’t the most compromising goddamn moment of your life.

“Are you serious right now?” you said flatly, shoulders tensing just under the surface of the water. “I’m literally bathing, you degenerate.”

“I know,” he said, as if that excused anything. “But we need to talk.”

You stared at him.

He stared right back.

Water rippled around your arms as you sank slightly lower, submerging up to your chin. “Senku,” you said slowly, “you’re my closest friend. You’re probably one of the smartest men alive. But holy shit, do you have any idea how little class you have?”

He blinked, picking up a small flat stone and turning it over in his hand. “We’re living in a stone world. Class is a social construct.”

“Oh my god, get help.”

“You want me to come back in five minutes?”

“Try fifteen.”

Still, he didn’t budge. Instead, his voice shifted—low, steady, serious. “It’s about Tsukasa.”

You stopped swearing. That alone should’ve told him just how quickly your attention had snapped back.

Senku continued, eyes fixed on the stone in his palm, thumb brushing grit from its surface like he was grounding himself with the texture. “I don’t think he’s shown his hand yet. Not fully. I can’t prove anything. But I know people like him. And I know the way he looks at us when he thinks we’re not watching.”

Your fingers found a pebble beneath the surface and flicked it toward a nearby rock. It hit with a soft plink.

He looked up at the sound.

“I’m not saying he’s a threat,” Senku went on, “but I am saying... if something does happen, I need you and Taiju to be ready. Taiju’s strong and you’re smart enough to know what to do to survive.” 

There it was. That same stubborn, self-sacrificing logic you’d come to expect from him. He could devise an entire roadmap to humanity’s revival, but not one that included him being saved.

You wrinkled your nose, half from the water up your sinuses and half from where this was clearly headed. You exhaled, slow and deliberate. “Yeah… no. That’s not gonna happen.”

His head turned toward you now. “Don’t be stupid.”

“I’m being loyal, jackass.”

He went quiet.

You tilted your chin up, water catching on your collarbones. “If something goes wrong, we handle it together. I’m not running off and leaving you behind. And Taiju sure as hell isn't either. Not happening.”

“You don’t understand—”

“No,” you cut in, voice firmer now. “You don’t. You’re not invincible, Senku. You can’t fight worth a damn, and you think two steps ahead of everyone else but never about yourself. Someone’s gotta watch your back. You know I’m—we’re—not going anywhere. So you better start getting used to that.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it.

You dunked again, water rushing over your scalp. When you came back up, you blew out a breath. “Besides. It’s not like you can fight for yourself.”

“I have science,” he said, completely serious.

“That won't get you anywhere is Tsukasa crushes you with his bare hands”

A tiny sound escaped him—half a huff, half a breath of laughter. You didn’t have to see it to know his mouth quirked a little at the corner.

You turned your head fully toward him, water lapping gently at your shoulders. “You’re stuck with me, Senku. Just get that through your dumb thick skull already.”

He didn’t say anything for a long moment. But he didn’t argue, either.

Then—very softly, almost like he didn’t mean for it to slip out—

“…Good.”

And just like that, he stood up, dusting off his hands and turning to go.

Then, he paused—glanced back over his shoulder, just barely.

“You still got good aim, right?”

You blinked. “Yeah? Why do you ask?”

His expression didn’t shift. “Just making sure.”

And then he walked off.

You sank deeper into the river, heart thudding slowly but hard. You knew, then—whatever was coming, he was already preparing to face it alone.

And you were already planning not to let him.

⏾𖤓

You tried to sleep. Truthfully, you did.

But with the way you could still hear Taiju snoring like a damn horse, it was kind of hard to.

You were used to it—years of childhood sleepovers had prepared you for whatever strange noises could come out of that boy’s mouth—but still, no matter how many times you shifted positions or buried your face deeper into the thin blanket, you just couldn’t slip into that peaceful abyss. No matter how hard you tried.

And it wasn’t just Taiju.

Tsukasa, for all his silence, had barely moved. He was curled onto his side, back to the room, but his breathing—steady and measured—felt too intentional. Like someone pretending to sleep.

You hadn’t even tried to lie down with them. From the jump, you made it clear: three guys in a tree hut wasn’t exactly your idea of comfort. Senku didn’t argue, none of them did really. Instead, he’d tossed you an extra blanket and told you to crash in the “lab”. You jumped at the chance and immediately took your sleeping back and made your way out.

But sleep still wouldn’t come.

Eventually, against better judgement, you decided to call it quits and take a stroll. You barely made your way out of the laboratory before you spotted him. Senku was crouched at the base of the tree, just outside the hut. No fire, no lantern. Just moonlight threading through the canopy in pale streaks, catching on the sharp lines of his hair and the shadowed dip of his brow.

But you noticed his hands moving—He was working.

You stalked from afar as he looped twine through carved wood, testing the tension of a tightly notched bend. It wasn’t elegant—crude by modern standards—but its silhouette was unmistakable.

A crossbow.

You stopped a few steps away, not wanting to startle him. But he didn’t look up. Just gave a small twitch of his fingers—barely a gesture, but one you understood. An acknowledgment. An invitation to stay.

So you moved in slowly, sitting across from him, cross-legged in the dirt. You didn’t speak. Neither did he.

There wasn’t a need.

Unlike the heavy quiet inside, this silence had no weight to it. It moved, pulsed gently between you. Unsaid, but understood. You both knew Tsukasa wasn’t sleeping. Both felt the shift in air since earlier that evening. Both knew something was coming. Even if neither of you said it.

Senku adjusted a knot, tugging gently at the string, pulling it taut. You leaned in, elbows on your knees, watching closely. He didn't explain what he was doing. He didn’t have to.

Behind him, the crickets sang into the open dark. A slow breeze rustled the trees above, tugging gently at the ends of his hair. The moon cut sharp through the branches overhead, draping you both in pale, silver light. Summer air clung to your skin, thick and warm—but you barely noticed.

You just kept thinking how badly you hoped it wouldn’t come to this. That whatever this was, whatever he was bracing for—you’d never have to use it.

⏾𖤓

The sun was just barely cresting the horizon, gold peeling slow across the edge of the sea. Early enough that the air still felt a little cool, the kind of soft chill that only stuck around before the day took over. Wind carried salt and morning mist, curling lightly in your lungs as you sat perched up on a sun-warmed rock, watching the beach below.

Taiju’s voice rang out, too loud for how early it was.

“Shells! Shells! Shells!”

You blinked slowly, eyes still adjusting to the light of the sun peaking its way above the coastline. You watched him bound across the shoreline with impossible energy—the basket strapped to his back full of white fragments and whole pieces alike, feet barely sinking into the sand. No human being had the right to be that energetic before sunrise. And yet, here he was.

You raised a hand lazily. “You missed one on your left, musclehead!”

He twisted mid-run, spotted it, and lit up like you’d just handed him gold. “Thanks!”

Senku, crouched beside you on the rock, didn’t say anything, but you caught the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Below you both, Tsukasa stood in the shallows—ankle-deep, water curling around his calves. His spear was resting loosely in one hand, but his posture was anything but relaxed. His gaze was fixed on the sea, and his back—broad, still, unreadable—held a tension that said he wasn’t admiring the view.

Senku watched him from above, eyes narrowed slightly, silent. Not blinking much. Not looking away. Senku hadn’t moved in minutes, elbow resting loosely on his knee, eyes closed as though lost in thought. The breeze tousled the framing pieces of his hair, but his posture never shifted.

You shifted slightly, the edge of the rock digging into your thigh. The sunlight stretched farther now, catching glints of white off the scattered stone statues still half-buried in the sand and surf. Some had clearly broken. Some remained whole. All of them watched in their own silent, terrible way.

Then, Tsukasa spoke.

“We have so much freedom in this Stone World,” he said, voice light. “Nobody is around to claim that shells are their personal property.”

He held something in his hand. A small pink shell, soft in color, oddly delicate in his grip. It caught a glint of sun as he turned it slowly between his fingers.

“Or the ocean. Or the land.”

You and Senku both remained silent. The waves lapped at the shore. The sun reached higher.

Tsukasa kept speaking.

“A long time ago,” he said, voice lowering just slightly, “there was a poor boy whose little sister was going through surgery.”

You felt your breath catch.

“He collected seashells to make a necklace for her. Something to help her feel better. She loved The Little Mermaid.”

He was still staring at the horizon, but something had changed. His stance. His voice. The softness from moments ago had drained slowly, replaced by something sharper.

“But along came an older man. He reeked of booze.”

“The boy thought he was collecting shells, but the man, the man accused him of stealing the shells, and beat him so badly, he was almost unrecognizable.”

You felt Senku shift beside you.

Tsukasa's grip tightened.

“He never got the chance to make his sister feel like The Little Mermaid.”

Then, without warning, his hand clenched. The shell shattered in his palm.

And with one sharp step forward, he drove his fist into the face of the stone statue in front of him. The head broke clean from its shoulders, cracking loose with a heavy thunk as it rolled toward the rocks. It stopped just shy of your feet.

You looked down. Then slowly, over to Senku. He was already watching. Not Tsukasa—just the broken face in the sand, his gaze slightly lowered, unreadable. But something had shifted behind his eyes.

Not shock. Not fear. Just the slow, sinking weight of confirmation. The kind that feels less like victory—and more like grief.

“You do know what you just did, don’t you?”

He glanced up, meeting Tsukasa’s gaze now. There was the ghost of a smirk tugging at his mouth—but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“That may have been a statue. But we both know you just killed a man.”

Tsukasa didn’t flinch. His expression remained steady as he turned in the water to face you both.

“Of course I know.”

His voice was calm. Steady. Almost too steady.

“Tell me something, Senku.” He didn’t even glance at you. “Are you planning to bring back all the greedy, black-hearted adults who ruined the world we came from?”

You tensed where you sat, trying to steady your breathing. The rock beneath you felt colder now. But Tsukasa continued, unbothered.

“Sure, they’ll be grateful at first. But once civilization returns, the rich and powerful will crawl right back to the top.” He took a step forward, water rippling at his shins. “They’ll say, ‘This used to be my property. You better start paying me rent.’ Then they'll collect taxes. Strip us down. Rob the young people—us—of the future all over again.”

He was getting closer now, moving across the sand toward the base of your rock. His voice never rose, but the weight behind it grew heavier.

“We live in the Stone World now. A paradise that hasn't been ruined by greed. I think we should only revive the young and pure-hearted, and make sure that we keep this world natural and not owned by anyone. This is our chance to purify humanity.” 

He reached out, hand resting gently on the head of another statue.

Senku’s mouth had drawn into a thin, quiet line. His body was still, but you saw the muscles in his jaw shift. Just barely.

“Don’t you agree with me, Senku?”  

And then Tsukasa moved to strike. But Senku’s hand was suddenly on his shoulder. Not forceful—more like a pause. A warning. Almost… gentle.

“No,” he said softly. “I don’t.” His voice wasn’t loud, but it was firm. Clear. Unshaken.

“That speech didn’t move me one millimeter.”

And then—he looked up. Eyes sharp. Smile returning, crooked and stubborn and so entirely Senku.

“I’m the kind of guy who absolutely loves technology. I get excited by space, and mechs, and Doraemon, and stuff like that.”

Your heart skipped, partly from secondhand embarrassment, partly from pure, unfiltered fear. Because this was Senku we were talking about.

A man who could barely lift a log. Someone who looked like he was on the verge of passing out after taking the school mandated mile. Facing someone who could probably punt him across the forest with his bare hands. And he didn’t even blink.

“I’m going to use the awesome power of science,” he said, grin widening, “to rescue every last person.”

For a moment, no one moved.

You were frozen on your perch, hands clenched in the fabric of your pants, heart pounding loudly in your ears. Every instinct in your body was screaming at you to do something—but what? Tsukasa barely even acknowledged you as a presence. You knew he could snap your ribs like twigs if he wanted.

And Senku…

Senku just stood there. Close—too close. Barely a step between them, the wind tugging gently at both their clothes. But neither of them moved.

This guy’s gonna be trouble, Senku thought, teeth gritted behind a calm expression. But if we hadn’t woken him up right then, we would’ve been lion chow for sure. His gaze stayed locked on Tsukasa’s. The situation forced our hand.

And now Tsukasa was talking about saving only the young—deciding who was worth reviving, like it was a moral absolute. Like he was some self-appointed gatekeeper for humanity’s second chance.

He won’t do anything rash. Not yet. Not until he figures out how to make the revival fluid himself.

Senku didn’t blink. So no matter what…His hands stayed at his sides, steady. I have to stay tight-lipped about the miracle fluid in the cave.

The tension between them pulsed, tight as a drawn bowstring. Neither flinched. The air felt brittle with it—one wrong move, one wrong word, and it would all snap.

And then—A voice. You heard him before you saw him.

“HEEEEEEEEY!!”

You turned sharply—just in time to see Taiju barreling down the beach toward you like a freight train made of good intentions and absolutely zero survival instincts. His arms were sloshing with something—some kind of pot? He was beaming.

“Awesome news, you guys!” he called, practically glowing as he skidded to a stop in front of you. “Check this out! You see? I got a whole pot full of the miracle fluid from the cave!”

The words dropped like a bomb.

You didn’t breathe.

Senku’s expression fractured instantly—his whole face tensing, eyes blown wide, jaw slack with horror so intense it almost looked comical. You saw the exact moment his soul left his body. If you weren’t seconds from cardiac arrest, you might’ve laughed.

Instead, you stared in raw, ringing silence as Taiju held the bottle aloft like a prize, completely unaware of the look Senku was giving him—a look that screamed I’m going to strangle you.

“And that means we can finally use this stuff to bring back Yuzuriha!” Taiju beamed.

You saw Senku twitch. Actually twitch. One of his eyes spasmed at a different speed than the other.

Taiju blinked at him, still clueless. “Huh?”

Tsukasa straightened slowly, that dangerous curiosity settling over his features like a calm fog. He turned fully toward Taiju now, eyes sharp but smile untouched. “So, what's this miracle fluid you’re talking about?”

Time stopped.

Before Taiju could even think about answering, Senku sucked in a sharp breath—like rebooting a system on the verge of total failure. His head snapped toward Tsukasa, back stiffening as he pulled himself back together, his composure returning. You could almost hear the mental gears grinding.

And then—crack.

Senku tilted his head with a sharp pop of his neck, followed by a low, too-casual chuckle.

“I won’t waste my breath trying to explain the science behind it.” He met Tsukasa’s gaze head-on now, “Showing you will be 10 billion times faster.”

You all made their way back to the grove where Yuzuriha’s statue rested—a quiet, half-sheltered patch at the edge of the woods, where the earth rose just slightly into a gentle mound, crowned by moss and fallen leaves. Light slanted through the branches in golden shards, catching on her stone form almost as if nature itself had chosen to spotlight her.

Yuzuriha’s expression remained as peaceful as ever, lips caught mid-smile, her hair frozen in the delicate sway of a long-gone breeze. It was eerie, seeing her like that—like time had tried to keep her safe by pressing pause. Like the universe had been kind enough to cradle her moment.

“Okay, Yuzuriha…” Taiju’s voice broke the hush, low and solemn.

“I promised we’d save you, and it’s happening for real this time.”

You stood a little off to the side, arms stiff at your sides, chewing the inside of your cheek so hard you could taste bitter copper of blood. Your eyes flicked to Senku, crouched beside you, as calm as if he were preparing afternoon tea instead of conducting the single most dangerous science demonstration of your collective lives. He filtered the nitric acid with surgeon-like precision, his sleeves rolled, fingers steady, completely unbothered by the fact that a man who could fold him like a lawn chair was watching his every move with predator-level focus.

You wanted to scream.

Instead, you fought the overwhelming urge to bury your face in your hands—not that it would help. Not with the way your heart was pounding in your ribs like it wanted out.

Tsukasa stood just a few meters away, a statue among statues, his arms loosely crossed, eyes half-lidded in patient observation. But his stillness was deceptive. A glacier looked still too, until it collapsed and took half the coastline with it.

Tsukasa's ideology wasn’t just strong. It was calcified. Hardened like old resin—an amber-encased wasp of conviction and vengeance that nothing, not logic nor sentiment, could touch. Not without shattering in the process.

You weren’t cracking that with words. Not today. Which meant… kiss your dreams of a new wardrobe goodbye. Or a pillow. Or a phone. Or, well, maybe surviving the week.

You exhaled through your nose, quiet and slow, and forced yourself to scan the landscape—not for escape, but for leverage. Anything that resembled an opening, a pressure point, a sliver of uncertainty in Tsukasa’s expression.

A crack. A seam. Give me something.

But there was nothing. Just towering pine silhouettes against the now blue sky, and the sharp mineral tang of stone and seawater settling into your lungs.

Because this wasn’t a disagreement. It wasn’t even a debate. This was a collision. A war of philosophies dressed up like a strategy meeting. A renaissance reimagined as a powder keg.

On one side: Humanity, messy and whole. Flawed, corrupted, scarred—but worth reviving.

On the other: Selective salvation. A future hand-picked, scrubbed clean of power-hungry elders and systemic rot. A world where strength was right—and compassion was rationed like oxygen on a lost spaceship.

And the terrifying part?

The truly, deeply horrifying part?

Sometimes—when you really let yourself think about it—he almost sounded right.

The world had been broken. Not just cracked, but diseased. A society so terminally ill with greed, inequality, and negligence that maybe—just maybe—it did need to be wiped clean.

And Tsukasa? He had the gall to try. To reset the board. Not out of malice, but belief. Real, raw, immovable belief.

You didn’t know if that made him noble… or terrifying. Probably both.

So instead of spiraling further into that existential rabbit hole, you did the only logical thing: you shook the thought loose like static clinging to your skin and turned your eyes back to Senku—who was still crouched like some gremlin chemist beside the container.

You stared. No—you glared, hoping, however irrationally, that your increasingly hostile death-beam of a look might sear a warning into his oblivious side profile.

No luck.

Senku was completely absorbed, brows pinched together in ruthless calculation, mouth set in a thin, unimpressed line. You envied that singular focus, that terrifying detachment. Because whatever chaos was chewing up your nerves from the inside out didn’t seem to touch him at all.

And then—He stiffened. Just slightly.

You followed his gaze in time to see Tsukasa re-enter the clearing, backlit by shifts of the morning sunlight, a freshly-killed bird slung over his shoulder like an afterthought. The very picture of casual menace.

Senku didn’t look away. Instead, he turned back to the bottle, brow furrowing deeper as he tipped the ceramic container over the filter. A single drop—just one—clung stubbornly to the rim before falling with an anticlimactic plip.

And then… nothing.

“…What the hell?” Senku muttered, rotating the vessel in his hands as if mass alone might convince it to give up a few more precious milliliters. He tipped it again. Still empty.

A beat passed, tense and silent. “For some reason, we don’t have enough revival fluid for even one person.”

Taiju flinched like he’d just been sucker-punched. His arms instinctively tightened around Yuzuriha’s statue, adjusting his grip with the frantic care of someone holding something both priceless and on the verge of shattering.

“Crap! Did I really grab it too early?” His voice cracked under the strain, eyes wide with a guilt that went marrow-deep.

Senku exhaled sharply through his nose and stood, flicking the bottle once like it had personally offended him. Then he turned to Taiju with exaggerated ease. “Just grab some more,” he said flatly. “We’ll hang back and play twenty questions or something while you’re gone.”

A bluff. You could see it. Hell, you could feel it. But Senku, the absolute menace, wasn’t done.

He smirked—just enough to bait the hook—and turned his head a fraction toward Tsukasa, his voice rising half a note louder than necessary.

“But do try and make it quick, would you, big oaf?”

Tsukasa’s head tilted in that quiet, unreadable way of his. His spear glinted faintly in the light—then he set it down beside him with deliberate care, eyes narrowing in thought.

“I’m the fastest,” he said calmly. “So it makes more sense for me to go.”

You stiffened, spine locking with involuntary dread.

“But I’ll need to know exactly where to find this ‘miracle fluid.’”

There it was. The bait, swallowed whole.

Senku, without much hesitation, gave out the location of the cave. Tsukasa gave a curt nod in response—no dramatics, no bravado. Just a single pivot, a clean turn of his heel. Then, he moved. Not a run. Not a sprint. A launch.

Like a bullet shot through silence, he disappeared into the woods, cutting through the trees with the kind of terrifying grace that wasn’t just trained—it was innate. Something primal. Built into his bones. Leaves kicked up behind him in swirling gusts. Birds erupted in protest from the canopy, startled into a frenzy.

And then he was gone.

The clearing, once tense, now felt eerily hollow—like someone had pressed pause on the whole world and the residual energy hadn’t caught up yet. The silence didn’t feel peaceful; it felt haunted. Like the wind itself was holding its breath. The trees swayed with that slow, sleepy cadence only found in early morning woods, their long shadows pooling at your feet like ink. The grass shifted in Tsukasa’s wake, blades still quivering from the force of his exit. A few displaced leaves spiraled lazily through the air before settling in the dirt.

It was too quiet now. Like the forest itself was waiting. Watching.

You swallowed hard. You didn’t breathe—not yet.

Only once the last faint echo of Tsukasa’s footfalls had dissolved entirely into the underbrush did Senku finally exhale beside you. Not sharply. Not even with relief. Just... tired. Quiet and hollow, the sound of a man bleeding out energy at a microscopic rate.

Then he yawned.

Actually yawned.

Arms stretching overhead like a cat just waking from a sunlit nap, his back arching in a slow curve, fingers flexing toward the sky with all the urgency of someone not seconds away from an impending ideological implosion.

You stared at him, equal parts bewildered and furious.

“Are you fucking serious?” you muttered, somewhere between a hiss and a prayer.

Senku, still mid-stretch, cracked one eye open to glance sideways at you. His expression was half-lidded, entirely nonchalant—but that glint, that cursed little spark of mischief in his eye, burned like static.

“Well, it was either this, or go head to head with the strongest high school primate. Of course I chose the less physically draining option.”

A beat. His smile curled just slightly.

“Of course, if you’re feeling brave, you’re more than welcome to catch up with him and try. Although, you'd be lucky if you even have enough time to say anything before you pass out.”

“You know the second he comes back you’re as good as dead right?”

You could only gape at him for a moment, struggling between the urge to scream or laugh or both simultaneously. The audacity of this man.

“You know the second he comes back, you’re as good as dead, right?”

And for a moment—just a moment—Senku’s expression changed. Subtle. Not fear. Not panic. But a quiet acknowledgment. His next breath came slower, heavier, like gravity had curled into it. “Doesn’t matter,” he said simply. “Tsukasa’s gone for now, isn’t he?”

You didn’t reply. What was there to say?

Taiju, despite the delayed reaction in this accelerating spiral, perked up like someone just turned his volume knob back on. “Yeah! Like a bolt of lightning! I’ve never seen a guy move so—uh—!”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

Because Senku moved.

It was like flipping a switch. One moment he was just stretching, spine bowed in a lazy arc, fingers flexing like a bored cat, and the next—sharp purpose sliced through the air. He shifted from stillness to motion like a blade being drawn, rising with practiced ease and a quiet snap of movement that made your pulse catch.

In his hand, the same ceramic bottle he’d sworn was empty. But now, as the slanted light of morning hit it just right, you could see the faint shimmer of liquid inside. Nitric acid, cold and deadly and gleaming like the answer to an impossible question.

You didn’t think. You moved.

Heel pivoting in the dirt, you snatched the container of distilled alcohol from the ground without a word. Your body fell into rhythm beside his like muscle memory. No plans needed. No cues. Just action born from fear induced urgency.

Senku didn’t waste a second.

“Hurry it up,” he muttered, already peeling away the waxy seal. “We need to revive her before he gets back.”

“Yeah yeah, I know—I’m rushing too!” You felt your heart racing, but your hands stayed steady. The rhythm mattered more than panic.

Behind you, Taiju blinked. He looked between the two of you like someone flipping through a conversation ten pages too late. “Huh? What’s the rush? Tsukasa just left, didn’t he?”

Senku didn’t even glance up. “Exactly. Which means we’ve got a narrow window before he realizes I lied through my teeth.”

You couldn’t help it—you barked out a laugh, sharp and short. “Props to you for telling him a bold-faced lie.”

Taiju’s brow crumpled. “Wait, what’s going on? You literally just said there wasn’t enough revival fluid!”

“Taiju, please try to keep up,” you said, eyes on Senku’s hands as he measured each drop with ruthless precision. “That’s what he was lying about.”

Senku, as focused as ever, didn’t even look at Taiju. “Do you really believe I’d set out a collection pot that was the wrong size?” He sounded almost offended.

Taiju shook his head, eyes wide. “No, you wouldn’t! Then why did you send Tsukasa out to get more?”

“It’s a calculated risk,” Senku replied, already stirring the mixture. “I wanted him gone before we revived her. Even if it meant revealing the cave location.”

Taiju still looked lost. “Why would you want to get rid of Tsukasa? He's like, totally awesome!”

You turned to him, trying to lace your tone with something firm enough to break through the confusion. “That’s why he’s a threat. He wants to remake this world into a place where only the young and strongest survive.”

Senku’s voice dropped just slightly, his next words tinged with something colder. “And that kind of thinking doesn’t move me one millimeter.” His eyes narrowed, flint and steel in the morning light. “But a civilization-building game? Now that gets me excited.”

And that was what finally clicked. You could see it settle behind Taiju’s eyes. His shoulders pulled back. His stance evened out. There was still a flicker of uncertainty, but it was steadier now—tempered.

“Yeah. Okay. No need to explain,” he said after a long breath. “I trust you both to make the right decision.” Then, quieter: “Something happened while I was gone, huh?”

You looked toward the edge of the forest, still feeling the air shift where Tsukasa had vanished like a storm. “You could say that. And you’re right, Shishio Tsukasa is an awesome guy.”

You didn’t stop there. You let the truth hang heavy in your voice.

“Who also happens to be a murderer.”

By the time the mixture was fully prepared, the three of you were already moving—feet pounding the forest floor, ducking under branches, leaping over roots slick with dew. Senku clutched the bottle tightly, his breaths short and controlled. You followed close behind, lungs burning but unwilling to slow, and Taiju surged ahead like an unstoppable force fueled by sheer hope.

He reached the statue first. Yuzuriha stood exactly where you’d left her.

“Yuzuriha…” Taiju’s voice cracked with something raw and trembling as he stood in front of her, the precious bottle cradled in both hands. “Sorry to keep you waiting, but I’m here.”

He tipped the revival fluid forward, slow and deliberate. The first drops fell like holy water, gliding over her forehead, trailing down the bridge of her nose.

“Just like I promised,” he whispered. “I’ll help you.”

You stumbled into the clearing behind him, bent double with your hands braced on your knees, breath coming in ragged pulls.

“Taiju…” you wheezed. “We kinda don’t have the—”

But the sentence cut off as Senku tore into the clearing behind you like a missile in a lab coat, his hair practically windblown from the sprint.

“Did you forget that we’re in a hurry, you big oaf?!”

He didn’t even break stride. One long lunge brought him to Taiju’s side, where he yanked the bottle from his hands and poured the rest over Yuzuriha’s statue with clinical precision.

Taiju staggered back, eyes wide. “Senku! You just dumped it on her?!”

He whipped his head toward you, flustered. “Shouldn’t we—I don’t know— gentle?"

You glance at the statue. The fluid glistens as it weaves through the fine cracks in her petrified form, tracing the fossilized strands of her hair, seeping down the delicate features of her face.

For a moment, the three of you fall into a taut silence, the kind that clings to the skin like humidity before a storm. The revival fluid seeps into the fine fractures across Yuzuriha's petrified form, darkening the stone where it flows, tracing paths down her hairline, her cheeks, her arms.

A small pool gathers at her feet.

The silence that followed was unnatural. It pressed against your eardrums, thick and buzzing, like the charged stillness before lightning splits the sky.

The three of you stood there—breath held, hearts pounding, caught in the space between hope and dread.

Nothing moved.

Taiju shifts beside you, fidgeting, his brow furrowed deep with tension. "Wait, why is nothing happening?"

You don’t answer immediately. You’re too busy watching Yuzuriha’s statue, searching for any sign of change. The silence is unbearable. Even the wind seems to hold its breath.

Taiju circles her, scanning her form from different angles, as though he might uncover some obvious flaw or misstep just by looking hard enough. “Don’t worry, Yuzuriha, it’s fine!” His voice is laced with that desperate, fragile optimism people use when they’re trying to delude themselves by believing whatever they’re saying. Then he turns to you, eyes wide and glinting with fear. “This is fine, right?”

“The reaction’s not instant,” you say, still a little breathless, your mind flashing back to the moment Tsukasa had revived—stone skin cracking, breath hitching, life crashing back in a wave. “It takes a second.”

Senku nods beside you, crouched low to observe every detail like a scientist watching the universe take its first breath. “The petrification is much like cryostasis,” he begins, his tone more focused than dramatic. “The stone shell acts as a protective coating formed from trace metals present in the human body. An unknown process causes them to undergo a phase shift, locking the organic structure in place and preserving it indefinitely.”

Taiju glances between you and Senku, visibly struggling. “You totally lost me, Senku! That’s so complicated…”

Senku gives a small smirk. “That’s my theory, anyway. Based on an entire year of painstaking experiments and a mountain of guesswork.” He turns his gaze back to Yuzuriha. “Anyway, my point being—if even a single part of the body is exposed to the revival fluid and starts to break down that outer shell, it sets off a chain reaction—”

He doesn’t get to finish.

Because it starts.

A thin crack races across the surface of Yuzuriha’s stone form with a sound like dry twigs snapping underfoot. The statue twitches, ever so slightly—an almost imperceptible shudder. Then more fractures blossom across her arms, her neck, her cheeks, like the veins in a tree after being struck by lightning.

Senku’s voice drops. “—that ripples through the entire organism. And the petrification is undone.”

The next crack is louder. The stone splinters along her collarbone, then her waist, then down her legs. And then she begins to fall.

“Yuzuriha!” Taiju’s arms shoot forward, catching her with all the urgency of someone trying to stop time from slipping through his fingers. Her weight crashes into his chest—not heavy, but startlingly real. He sinks to his knees with her cradled in his arms, fingers splayed against her back like he still doesn’t quite believe she’s there.

“Please—please open your eyes.”

His voice is raw, torn at the edges, cracking beneath the weight of years spent screaming into silence—all of it condenses into that one broken plea. His fingers clutch her shoulders, trembling, as if loosening his grip for even a second might send her crumbling back into stone.

And for a moment, the entire forest holds its breath.

The wind dies. The birds go quiet. Even the sun filtering through the trees feels slower, gentler, like the world itself is waiting.

Then—just a flicker.

Her eyelids twitch.

Once.

Twice.

Then they part, hazy and unfocused, catching the morning light like glass touched by fire. fluttering faintly like wings breaking free of frost. Her lips part, dry but alive. She draws in a shaky, shallow breath. And in a voice he hasn't heard in what feels like lifetimes, she whispers—light, disoriented, but unmistakable

“…That you, Taiju?”

It hits him like a landslide. The laugh bursts out of him in a wild, uneven sound that crashes into a sob. He presses his forehead to hers, shoulders heaving with emotion too big for words, too real for logic. His whole body aches with it—with the sheer overwhelming truth of hearing her voice aloud once more.

The sunlight spills around them like liquid gold, filtering through the branches in warm, dappled light. It glows against her skin, lingers in her eyes—still hazy, still unfocused—like the world itself is welcoming her back from a dream.

She’s here.

She’s back. 

And you honestly couldn't feel any happier in a moment like this. There's a strange, quiet warmth that seeps in beneath your skin, the kind that lingers in your chest long after the adrenaline fades. 

You glance up at Senku, whose reaction is...well, expected. Arms crossed, shoulders stiff, he looks like a man waiting impatiently at a terminal where the intercom keeps announcing delays. His expression hovers somewhere between deep existential regret and secondhand embarrassment, the particular kind worn by someone who realizes—against every fiber of logical foresight—that he's wandered into a completely different genre than the one he signed up for. 

You feel it too, in a way. That sense of being in a moment that’s not meant for you, and yet still being moved by it. An emotional current you can’t fully explain—but don’t want to deny. “Even after all these years, they’re both as oblivious as ever,” you murmur, the words slipping out like an observation and a sigh at once.

Senku groans, low and sharp, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I swear, at this point I’m convinced they’re biologically immune to emotional self-awareness.”

You give him a questioning look, but don't reply.

But he doesn’t look away. For all his exasperation and sarcasm, his gaze remains fixed on Taiju and Yuzuriha—Taiju’s voice still trembling as he speaks, Yuzuriha barely nodding, as if grounding herself in each syllable. There’s something vulnerable about it. Something honest. And despite himself, Senku watches.

You let out a breath—half sigh, half laugh. “Still allergic to romance huh?”

Senku clicks his tongue, the sound sharp and practiced, and turns just enough to meet your eyes. His expression is flat, unimpressed, the universal face of a man being dragged into a conversation he wants no part of. “Yeah, real shocker,” he replies, dry as ever. “Turns out dramatic confessions don’t exactly rank high when you’re trying to reverse centuries of technological regression

“Right, because clearly there’s no emotional nuance involved in rebuilding society,” you counter, your voice dry.

“None that can’t be solved with infrastructure and running electricity,” he fires back without missing a beat.

“You know,” you say, stepping a little closer, “one day you’re gonna be hit with this thing called feelings—real ones—and it’s gonna bite you in the ass so hard, you won’t even have a scientific theory prepared for it.”

Senku rolls his eyes with such force it’s a miracle they don’t detach and begin orbiting his skull like rogue satellites. “Please. Emotional compromise is a waste of neural bandwidth.”

“You’re emotionally stunted.”

“I’m scientifically optimized.”

You narrow your eyes. “Those aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“Debatable,” he mutters, and just like that, the moment slips into familiar banter. Comforting, maybe—but short-lived.

Because the clock is ticking.

Senku’s posture straightens with clinical precision, as if a switch has flipped. The ease in his voice vanishes, replaced with clipped efficiency. “Pardon the intrusion on your big emotional breakthrough or whatever,” he says, turning toward Taiju and Yuzuriha, “but you need to make a decision before he gets back.”

He holds up two fingers—steady, deliberate. “There are only two options, so choose carefully. Plan A: The three of you run away this instant, and find a new place to live. Put as much distance between yourselves and Tsukasa as possible. The farther, the better.”

A pause. Heavy.

“Plan B: We join together and fight to stop Tsukasa’s murder spree, using the only weapons we’ve got—the tools of civilization.”

Taiju looks at him like he’s just asked him to choose between breathing and blinking. “Come on, man! Obviously we’ll stay and fight by your side. I mean, really—what kind of people do you think we are?!”

You flash a grin and elbow Senku lightly. “I asked him the same thing, Taiju. Never seems to get it though.”

Yuzuriha, barely steady on her feet, is already nodding, fists clenched, eyes bright. “Mm-hmm! I have no idea what’s going on,” she admits, voice chipper but earnest, “but I’ll help however I can!”

Senku sighs, rubbing at the back of his neck like he’s suddenly aged ten years. “I’m not making assumptions,” he says, quieter now but no less firm. “And I’m not trying to be nice. It just seemed logical to give you the option to flee. That’s all.”

But Taiju’s already gearing up, fists clenched, jaw set. “Listen, Senku!” he shouts, voice rising like a tidal wave. “If Tsukasa is killing people, then we’ve got no—”

A voice cuts through the forest like a blade through silence.

“So I’m ‘killing people,’ now?”

The temperature drops. And you swear you can feel every muscle in your body lock.

He steps out from between the trees like he was born from them, silent and effortless, each movement soaked in that unnerving calm—the kind of stillness that only exists when someone is completely, terrifyingly sure of themselves. His lion-skin coat flutters slightly in the breeze before he shrugs it off in a single, fluid motion. The air around him seems to thicken.

“Huh,” he muses, tilting his head just slightly, eyes narrowing as they settle on the group. “I’d say that’s a matter of perspective.”

You, Taiju, and Senku all gasp in unison—caught off guard, completely unprepared for how quickly he returned.

“I call it culling,” Tsukasa says, voice low and unwavering. “For the benefit of the new world.” 

He begins walking toward you—slow, purposeful steps that somehow feel louder than they should. Every footfall slams into the ground like a countdown.

Taiju immediately throws an arm out, stepping protectively in front of Yuzuriha, Senku, and you. His voice cracks as the weight of the situation finally hits him full-force. “Hey—if things go bad… take care of Yuzuriha, okay? I’m gonna stop him. Right here. Right now!”

Before you can stop him—before anyone can stop him—Taiju lets out a yell and charges forward, a mess of wild energy and desperation.

“Okay wait, let’s not get overconfident now—!” you shout, hand instinctively reaching out, even though you already know it’s pointless.

Senku groans sharply. “This guy killed a freaking lion with his bare hands! You’re 10 billion percent screwed, you idiot!”

But even as he says it, Senku’s already turning on his heel, sprinting to the half-buried clay pots that lie below the hut and pulling out a sleek, makeshift crossbow. The same one you watched him build nights prior. 

An arrow is already drawn, string taut.

He doesn’t hesitate. “Hey—catch!” he barks, tossing the weapon to you in a single, precise motion.

Your hands close around the grip almost before you realize you’ve moved. Training? Muscle memory? Instinct? Doesn’t matter. The moment it’s in your hands, your body’s already adjusting, anchoring your stance, raising the sightline, locking onto your target.

Tsukasa. 

He doesn’t flinch.

You fire.

The arrow wasn’t meant to hit—not this one. It was a distraction, a disruption. Something to make him blink, even for half a second to at least try and break up the fight. That’s all Taiju would need.

But Tsukasa moves.

Not out of fear. Not with panic. No—with precision.

A blur of controlled force, he pivots sharply on one foot, body twisting mid-stance with terrifying grace. One arm snaps outward.

And he catches the bolt.

He doesn't deflect. He doesn't dodge. He caught it.

The reaction time alone is staggering—but it’s the technique that freezes you cold. With seamless precision, his palm redirects the arrow’s momentum downward, burying it into the soil at his feet like a snapped twig. The movement isn’t flashy. It’s not some grand display of power. It’s dismissive. The way you swat a fly.

But Tsukasa doesn’t pause to gloat.

With that same effortless momentum, he spins—fluid, brutal, measured—and closes the distance to Taiju in a single breath. One blink and he’s already there.

Then—

CRACK.

His knee slams square into Taiju’s crossed fists just as the boy regains his footing, bracing instinctively. A solid, bone-deep impact sends a shockwave rippling through the clearing. Loose leaves scatter. Yuzuriha gasps and you flinch as Taiju is launched backward.

His boots tear twin scars in the earth as he’s thrown like a ragdoll on invisible strings. For a split second, it looks like he might go down—but he doesn’t.

He plants his foot. Slides. Stumbles. But stays up.

Coughs once. Arms still raised. Gritting his teeth.

You stare, breath caught halfway between awe and terror.

Tsukasa pauses, expression unreadable. “No one’s ever taken one of my kicks full-force and remained standing,” he says calmly. “It's true but what's even more interesting…” His eyes narrow, sharp as cut obsidian. “...is the feeling I get that you actually refused to attack me just now. You had a clear opening—and you didn’t take it. Why?”

Taiju wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, voice rising with conviction that sounds more like a war drum than a plea. “I don’t hit anyone! You can punch me, kick me, do whatever the hell you want! But I’m telling you—”

He jabs a finger forward, breathless but unwavering.

“You have to stop breaking those statues, man!”

The words hang in the air, louder than they should be. Like he just screamed the world’s biggest moral in the middle of a high-speed car crash.

Tsukasa blinks.

Senku deadpans.

Yuzuriha has her hands half-covering her mouth, frozen.

And you?

You just stare at him. Dumbfounded.

“Wow. What a real riveting realization, Taiju,” you mutter, blinking slowly. “Thanks for the ethics lesson, Gandhi.”

Your words hang in the clearing with a weight that’s half sarcasm, half stunned disbelief. Even Tsukasa seems taken aback, visibly thrown. He pauses, arms folding over his broad chest, brows furrowing slightly as he studies Taiju with something approaching genuine confusion.

“Taiju,” he says, his tone slower now, deliberate, like he’s double-checking the logic on a math problem that doesn’t quite compute. “Let me make sure I understand you. You’ll let me pummel you as much as I want... if it means I’ll stop breaking those statues.” He leans forward slightly, eyes narrowing, disbelief flickering beneath the calm. “That’s what you’re saying, right?”

Taiju, bless him, doesn’t flinch. He just nods, firm as ever. “Yeah! Exactly!”

Tsukasa just… blinks. Actually blinks. The man who fought a lion with his bare hands—visibly caught off guard by one human anomaly in front of him. He brings a hand up to his mouth, eyes drifting off to the side like he needs a second to process, jaw tightening faintly as he exhales through his nose.

When he looks back down at Taiju, there’s no smugness in his voice—only confusion. Honest, genuine, grounded confusion.

“I don’t understand,” he says quietly, his head tilting. “You aren’t making any kind of deal.”

And the thing is, he means it. He’s not mocking Taiju. He’s not playing games. He just truly can’t wrap his head around the idea of someone offering themselves without asking for anything back.

Senku chuckles under his breath, that familiar dry amusement threading through the tension. It’s not that he finds the situation funny—more that the sheer absurdity of Taiju’s honesty has momentarily short-circuited even Tsukasa's ruthlessness. He paused. Just for a second. But sometimes a second is everything.

“But,” Tsukasa says, the weight returning to his voice like a stone dropped into water, “if you insist on getting in my way—”

“I don’t care how many times you wanna come at me!” Taiju shouts, voice full-throated and loud enough to cut through the trees. “I’m not gonna stop trying to stop you!”

There’s a flicker in Tsukasa’s eyes. And then he lowers his gaze, his next words slipping out like a blade drawn slow from its sheath.

“That girl you just revived... what if I told you I’d kill her instead?” His tone doesn’t rise. It doesn't need to. It's laced with cold intent, the kind that silences everything around it.

Before anyone can move, Taiju reacts—pure instinct. He throws himself in front of Yuzuriha in a blur of motion, arms outstretched like a shield made of flesh and willpower.

And then—He stops. Freezes. Mid-motion.

His eyes go wide, unnaturally wide, like something’s gone suddenly, horribly wrong. A thin, dark line of blood begins to trail from his temple, cascading slowly down the side of his face. For a moment, he sways there—upright, statuesque.

Then he drops.

Not like someone falling asleep. Like a marionette with its strings cut.

Yuzuriha’s gasp cuts through the silence. “Taiju!?”

She drops to her knees beside him, scrambling to catch his weight as it hits the forest floor. Her hands hover, unsure where to press, what to do, her voice cracking around his name again and again.

You blink, a sharp sting of disbelief in your chest.

“Oh, great…” you mutter. “Fantastic. That’s... not ideal.”

Senku strides over, crouching beside Taiju with that same calm, clinical detachment he reserves for life-or-death assessments. He gives the unconscious boy a once-over, eyes narrowing at the blood seeping down the side of his face.

“Well,” he says dryly, “seems like it did hurt him. He’s bleeding like a stuck pig. He’ll need a couple days to sleep it off—if we’re lucky.”

You hear Yuzuriha’s breath hitch beside you, her hands still pressed uselessly against Taiju’s shoulder as if willing him back awake.

Tsukasa’s voice cuts through the moment like a crack of thunder.  “Yeah. So let’s not fight each other.”

He steps forward again, calm as ever, and grabs his discarded lion-skin pelt from the ground, flinging it back over his shoulders like a king reclaiming his crown. His spear rests easily in his grip, an afterthought to the threat that’s still hanging in the air.

“You just protect your girlfriend,” he continues, casting a glance at Yuzuriha, “and quit worrying about some random statues.”

Then, without another word, he turns. The clearing seems to part for him as he walks, his silhouette fading back into the trees like a nightmare slipping out of reach. “Meanwhile, I’ll do what I need to do.”

His voice echoes once more, low and final, as he disappears into the forest.

“Stay out of my way.”

The second you’re certain he’s not going to leap out of the shadows again, you finally release a shaky sigh of relief. Your knees feel weak, threatening to buckle beneath you, and every fiber of your body wants nothing more than to fold forward, face planting into the dirt, and stay that way for the next business week. But, of course, Senku doesn’t have time for self-pity or dramatic collapses.

“Please, never make me do that again...” you mutter.

Senku, never missing a beat, is already back to his usual brisk, no-nonsense demeanor. “That arrow was going at over 200 kilometers per hour,” he states matter-of-factly.

Yuzuriha’s eyes widened. “That’s crazy. And he just grabbed it?”

But no one really answers. Senku’s attention has shifted as he stomps impatiently on Taiju’s unconscious form. “Naptime’s over! Rise and shine, Taiju! Come on, get up!” he demands, repeatedly kicking him.

Yuzuriha, clearly panicked, shouts, “You said he needed a few days to sleep it off!”

Senku shoots her an exasperated grin, dark and slightly mischievous, as he continues his assault on Taiju’s ribs. “Oh, give me a freaking break. Is this it? You’re just gonna lose that easily, you big oaf?”

You can’t help but defend your friend. “Cut him some slack. You’d have been as good as gone if you took that hit.”

Just when you think Taiju is out for the count, his eyes snap open with a spark of determination. “No way! Not me!” he snaps, hauling himself upright in one smooth, surprisingly energetic motion.

Yuzuriha exhales in relief. “Oh wow! Are you really okay?”

Taiju pumps a fist in the air, grinning like a kid who just won a game. “I’m made of stronger stuff than that! And I’m still full of crazy energy!”

You exchange a glance with Senku, who shrugs with an amused smirk. But your caring, analytical instincts kick in immediately.

“That’s nice to hear and all, but I should probably still check if you have a concussion… and patch that wound up,” you say, already shifting gears into caretaker mode.

Taiju’s eyes blaze with determination as he suddenly tries to dart off in the direction Tsukasa disappeared. “But we gotta stop him! Before he can murder anybody else!”

Luckily, Senku grabs hold of his collar—well, tries to. More like he slows him down, getting dragged along by Taiju’s sheer strength as they struggle against each other.

“Wait, you big oaf!” Senku grunts, tugging with all his might, which is practically nonexistent.

Taiju shakes his head fiercely, refusing to be held back. “I won’t give up that easily!”

“Don’t you understand what just happened?!” Senku huffs, pulling harder. “He showed us we can’t stop him with brute force!”

Taiju finally freezes, that hard truth sinking in. “Still... we’ve got to do something.”

Senku releases his grip and strides over to where the arrow shaft is buried deep in the soil. He kneels down, tapping the earth thoughtfully.

“In the Stone World,” Senku begins, voice low and steady, “there’s only one surefire path to defeating a S+ tier boss."

Taiju and Yuzuriha gasp at him, wide-eyed and breath caught, but you already know exactly where this is headed. Senku’s voice drops to that familiar mix of excitement and unshakable certainty. “By advancing civilization, and crafting weapons of science!”

“How exhilarating…” You roll your eyes, half amused, half bracing yourself for the inevitable grind.

“Hell yeah it is, get excited!”

an: hey guys... heh? you still here???? bro never trust me when I say imma post at a set date, it never works out in my favor. typically I blame my pookie @lo1itado11 for it but she wasn't even available at the time I should've been writing so this is all on me... and then when I did try to lock in I got sick and rotted in bed--also i like a Roblox addict rn, I've been playing 99 nights in a forest like one of those 24 hour streamers, and I'm not even good....BUT ENOUGH ABOUT THAT!

i'm back! slightly longer chapter than usual but I genuinely couldn't find a decent part to finish this chapter off so I just cut it... next chapter will be SIGNIFICANTLY longer as well because of all the scenes I plan to get done so you can look forward to that!

I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! I will be taking a break from writing for this specific series for like a week or so(lies, i'll find a way to slowly write for it) but I want to focus on shorter one shots, also for senku... but my inbox is always open (I'm begging for requests, PLEASEEEEEEEEE I love writing wtv crazy little scenarios anyone can come up with as long as they fit my guidelines)

anyway, I hope you all have a great day!!

taglist: @jmclouds @hyperl0gic @gingerthorns @jinu-x-rumiii

[anunusualghost]

࣪ ִֶָ☾.

ʚɞ | cw: smut, fingering, teasing, sensory detail, MDI    >ᴗ<

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"stop moving."

senku's voice was low. calm. dangerously precise.

you shifted again, only a little, but his hand landed against your lower back—firm, not rough. "i'm not moving that much," you huffed, trying to act unaffected.

"you are." his pencil hovered over the sketchbook, unbothered. "i can't measure muscle tension properly if you keep fidgeting."

"maybe i wouldn't fidget if you didn't keep touching me like that."

he finally looked up. and smiled. slow. sharp. "like what?"

you didn't answer.

you were straddling his lap, shirt off, skin bare under the dim light of the lab. he said it was for a reference sketch—anatomy, posture, balance. "strictly scientific," he told you.

and maybe it started that way. maybe.

but now his fingers were gliding along your waist again, deliberately slow. memorizing the curve of your hip. "you're the one who said i could use you," he murmured.

"for drawing, senku."

his grin widened. "then stop looking like a distraction."

you opened your mouth to argue, but choked instead when his hand slid lower, fingers brushing the inside of your thigh, grazing close—too close.

"i said stay still," he repeated, voice quieter now. firmer.

"senku—"

"you're the one who got in my lap."

you were about to shoot back something—something about how he was the one turning a sketch into foreplay—but then his fingers dipped between your legs, slow and steady. and suddenly, there was nothing to say.

you hesitated—just for a second. and that was enough.

he slipped two fingers inside you, deep and smooth, and you gasped, hips jolting. his other hand gripped your waist, anchoring you, keeping you right where he wanted you.

"shh. stay. still."

his touch was maddening. slow. calculated. he moved like he was taking data—memorizing every clench, every twitch, every breathless sound you made.

"interesting," he murmured, lips brushing your ear. "your pulse just jumped."

you whimpered.

"breathing's shallower too. that's expected—sympathetic nervous system triggers dilation in blood vessels, muscle sensitivity—"

"senku—shut up," you moaned, half-laughing, half-desperate.

he paused. blinked.

then he smirked. "you don't like science right now?"

"not when you're finger-fucking me."

"hm. shame," he teased, curling his fingers and earning a cry from you. "you're the perfect case study."

you dug your nails into his shoulder, body trembling as his fingers pushed deeper, his thumb circling just right, forcing your hips to jerk despite yourself.

he didn't let you move.

"you said i could touch. didn't say how much," he whispered, mouth at your neck now. "don't squirm. i want to feel everything."

your body gave out before your words could. you came hard around his fingers, thighs shaking, head buried in his chest.

he held you through it, breath heavy, whispering soft praises you could barely hear through the buzzing in your ears.

finally, he pulled back—dragging his soaked fingers up your stomach, smearing slick over your skin like a signature.

"ruined the sketch," he muttered. "worth it."

you slapped his chest weakly. "nerd."

he grinned, eyes sharp and full of heat. "thanks, ill take that as a compliment"

[anunusualghost]

erogenous zones — senku i.

brief summary: senku swears he won't react

what to expect: suggestive

your sword's note: to celebrate husband is back, here is this thing. more on my mistresslist

The soft mumble of the fan twirling back and forth kept you from understanding the paragraph you had re-read 3 times already.

Summer vacation had just started, and with your new found freedom, your friend group decided to do a sleepover. That was hours ago. You all agreed to watch a movie and ended up watching a cringey movie on teens and parties, the kind that are so bad they are good; it was so funny that even Yuzuriha wheezed while laughing. Now Taiju slept on the floor while Yuzuriha laid on the sofa. You had slept an unknown amount of time until the unfamiliarity of the living room's floor as a sleeping place woke you up. Taiju was still beside you snoring and Yuzuriha was still in the sofa like the sleeping beauty. Senku was nowhere to be found, but the bright led light bleeding in through the corners of his closed-door bedroom gave you an idea of where he was.

"I thought we said no computer." You said placing a hand on his shoulder, leaning in sideways to look at him as a reprimand.

"I thought you said you were able to sleep like a baby in the floor." Senku shrugged, his eyes not leaving the screen.

You hummed and laid down on his bed, one arm hanging off the edge of the bed while your legs were half bent on the air, cheek pressed against the mattress as you followed the movement of the fan blowing air. For some reason you were wide awake, and without anything else to do, you turned on your phone and opened a chapter of a novel you were reading in the morning. Which turns to the beginning; The soft mumble of the fan twirling back and forth kept you from understanding the paragraph you had re-read 3 times already.

It was only 10 or 15 minutes after your appearance that Senku decided to turn around. You were focused on the phone, trying to finally figure out what was happening in the story.

"Still reading?" He asked. You nodded and sighed.

"I can't concentrate."

"Maybe because it's 3am, just throwing that variable out there." He mumbled getting off the chair and sitting in the edge of his bed. As if asking for the phone, Senku extended his hand, and somewhat unaware of what it meant to surrender the phone you placed it in his hand and closed your eyes until he started chuckling.

"What?" You asked but he remained silent, that until you remembered what you were reading and immediately reached in to grab the phone.

"I see you are interested in this kind of explorations of the human body." Mockingly he said as he fought to keep the phone.

"It only started, I didn't know!"

"Lies, it had been going on for about three pages... three pages of filth is surprising, how do they extend it for so long, just go to the point." Senku managed to mumble before you accidentally hit him in the process of retrieving your phone.

"'M sorry." You mumbled after shutting your phone off.

He stayed quiet for a while. Normally, he wouldn't have minded going on a rant explaining biology and mocking you, but that was the problem, you. The problem was that things were odd between you two; he wasn't so stupid as to not know the difference between the platonic feelings he had for friends like Taiju or Yuzuriha compared to whatever was happening to him about you.

And you were too, face pressed against the mattress in a lame attempt to suffocate yourself just so the awkwardness wouldn't consume you. If it would have been Yuzuriha you would have laughed and showed to her willingly, if it was Taiju you would have screamed and then laughed so hard until it hurt, but it was Senku, the same Senku who since the beginning you couldn't quite place in the same mental category as Taiju and Yuzuriha, the same Senku whose hand didn't shriek away when the emotions overcame you and your touch became lingering on his skin rather than a passing accident, the same Senku who would be already looking at you when you turned to take a glimpse of him in class, the same Senku who didn't mind anymore when his shoulder was completely pressed against yours.

He laid down beside you and sighed silently. Your eyes interlocked.

"Are you curious?" He asked out of nowhere. You took your time to answer, not knowing how to reply to his odd question, but decided to reply by shrugging, ambiguous and imprecise.

"What about you?" You asked after a while.

"This is just textbook stuff, light work, no reaction." Senku affirmed.

"No reaction? Highly doubt it."

"Well physiologically maybe... emotionally though, zero."

"Senku that can't be, you are not that bleak."

"It can be." He nodded.

"Bet it can't."

"What are we betting?" Suddenly interested he asked.

Each one of you stated their firm belief, completely stubborn on not backing down.

"And are you going to prove it just by staring at me?" Senku asked after another wave of silence between you passed, only filled by the hums of the fan and the distant snores from Taiju on the living room.

"Why did you assume that it was going to be me to prove or disprove it?" You quickly asked; his eyebrows furrowed a little, only so quickly that he corrected it but you noticed.

"I took some contextual evidence and made an assumption." Now he shrugged.

"Contextual evidence like what?"

"Contextual evidence like the fact that it was you who brought it up, the fact that you were reading the filth in question..." He counted with his fingers, "And the undeniable tension."

"So taking a direct approach, I see." You mumbled after the last part of his words startled you.

"Come on, you can't be that bleak." Again he shrugged, with a smile.

"Hypothetically speaking, what would be life after the proving or disproving of the facts?" You asked in roundabout ways. It took him a while to peel the coats of your implication.

"Life after." As soon as he realized that you were asking how things would change if you two decided to indulge in the desire hidden as a bet, he spoke. "It would be different, I can guarantee that. As a double sided sword, the tension would disappear, easing the stress but also dismantling the chase. Maybe it is like a small realization that gives way for something better, hypothetically speaking."

You smiled, and he followed with a smile of his own; something soft and almost undetectable.

It took unmeasurable strength to move closer to him, mainly because the heat had made your body almost melt into his bed and moving away from the merciful overwatch of the fan felt like suicide, but you gave in to your heart's command and moved after gathering enough momentum and willpower.

You had imagined during your soft delusional fantasies how the impossible confession would happen between you two. You knew Senku well, also his allergy to romance and aversion to general socialization in an overly emotional manner, but you fantasized of being the one and only that could break through his armor and flood him with sentiment; it did things to you to imagine yourself being so special for him. You had imagined one and a million scenarios, ranging from script and location —honestly nothing so mundane, so human and daily. Now it felt surreal. Not short of your fantasies or expectations, never, simply different, still unbelievable.

"Do you need a vague list of where you need to test?" Senku asked, unmoving.

"I have a feeling you are enjoying this too much because what the hell..." The closeness resonated within both of you. He arched a brow as if to ask again, you shook your head hard. "I know some."

He then rolled to his back, and watched waiting for you. The moment you had imagined for long; you held yourself up resting on your forearms, leaning in. Your hair fell on his face, but he gently tucked the strands behind your ear. You didn't want to kiss him abruptly, so you dragged a caress through his cheek and down his jaw, fingers unconsciously brushing his neck. He knew he lost immediately, the way his body filled with anticipation and completion. He didn't voice it, hoping you hadn't noticed.

After a long minute of caresses that he received silently, your gaze found home in his lips and slowly you moved to brush your lips against his. Your eyes were shut tight but his remained open, beaming with the satiation and at the same time growing of his curiosity. Your lips were soft, quivering only so slightly to make him smile. When you opened your eyes you saw him smiling, a genuine tender smile, and so one of your own followed. You repeated the action between soft giggles, each time with more conviction, not brushing but pressing, and in the last time Senku held your face and caught your bottom lip between his. The sensation of the warmth and wetness of his lips around yours made you shiver, and you quickly ought to reciprocate so you imitated his action.

"So are kisses still overrated?" You asked quoting an old debate of you two.

"I might have to redo my assessment, but my evidence is highly inconclusive and I need to collect more data." Senku said in all seriousness, which made you laugh.

Your next kisses repeated the pattern, occasionally alternating, but it was until you decided to try licking his lip that a stronger reaction escaped him.

"Did you just gasp?"

"Physiology." He couldn't even deny. "The lips are just full of nerves."

"And you full of the audacity." A quick kiss pressed to his lips after you finished speaking.

Since your arms started to hurt, you laid back down. The process repeated some more, soft brushes, more decided pecks, then gently sucking on each other's lips until a lick made either of you exhale and move away.

"Let me try something new." You pleaded, flustered in the darkness, Senku nodded. You trailed kisses from his lips across his cheek to his jaw, and then moved to his earlobe, wrapping your lips around it and letting your tongue rest against his skin. The air in his lungs left fast, and much to his misfortune once you noticed, you licked some more, moving up the cartilage in his ear until his squirming made you stop. "You didn't like that?"

"It was odd, ticklish." Senku commented.

"How about this?" You asked before inching closer to his neck and planting a kiss. His heart almost stopped, but once it regained its sense, it rushed to beat unbridled.

"Don't."

"Why not? Was it bad?" You rushed to question him. He stayed silent before uttering that it was the opposite. "Let me do it again."

Adamantly, he agreed, and you moved close to him again, your breath velvety on his sensitive skin. It was now him shutting his eyes close when he felt your lips on his neck again, and for the first time in forever, formulas and topics stopped rummaging his mind because he needed to tell himself over and over again to not lose it. Your peppered kisses on his neck made his system shake, and once you grew bold and decided to proceed with a half-open mouth kiss, pressing your tongue too to then lick him up, he moaned.

"That is enough." Though you tried to kiss his neck some more, he put a hand between your mouth and his skin. "Your turn."

"Hey this is not about me in any way, shape or form; we were trying to test you."

"Yes but I want to touch you like that too."

His brazen statement took you aback, but you nodded nonetheless. He moved down in the bed, enough for his face to align with your neck. He repeated your actions but stopped dead in his tracks when you started laughing instead of gasping for air or moaning.

"That tickles." He stated for you, and you nodded giggly. "Well now I am the lustful piece of shit."

Senku rested his head on your chest for a moment, still leaving kisses across your collarbones.

"I am happy." You said out of nowhere, he looked up. "I really like you."

"Hmm." He mumbled with his cheek pressed on your skin. "You know I do too, don't make me say it."

"You like yourself too? Hey I saw Senku first don't make this into a competition." You complained and he bit your neck. For a moment he just stayed there, hidden in the warmth of your neck with his hands holding your waist. Then another kiss, slow and deliberate, both of you more confident in your newly acquired skills, holding each other with a nervousness close to fearing the other one would liquify into bubbles and vanish; between soft licks and sucks, you both opened your mouth at the same time to lick and your tongues met, eyes opening immediately and breathing gone erratic. You looked at each other almost asking for permission, but your tongues didn't separate, instead after a silent consensus you continued making out.

The dim light of the computer still on, and the hums of the fan twirling back and forth, the sounds of the wet kisses you gave each other, all made you sigh content.

"Can I?" Senku asked after a while, his hands playing with the hem of your shirt and tracing numbers in your skin.

"Can you what?" You put your forehead on his, your eyelashes tickling him. He squeezed your waist and you licked his cheek. "Sure, whatever you mean."

He nodded thanking you and waited attentive for any reaction, to tease you or to stop. His hand climbed inside your shirt and he hesitated for a moment before placing it on one of your breasts to squeeze it gently. "Can I?"

"Can you what?" You asked again but he didn't respond, not knowing what he meant you agreed confused and waited to see what he was going to do. After some moments of courage, he lifter your shirt and grabbed both your breasts, squeezing them softly until he moved downwards and planted a kiss in one. At your curious gaze he proceeded to lick the skin until his lips wrapped around your nipple. "Wait..."

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked immediately, his mouth not leaving you.

"N-No it's not that."

"Does it feel good?" Senku asked, his other hand tracing unknown patterns in your other breast.

"Well yes."

Needless to say he grinned and kept on sucking and licking.

"Don't blame me this is my first time ever seeing these." He shrugged. "I will compensate for my lack of childhood breastfeeding."

"Senku shut the hell up."

Between laughter he continued, alternating between your breasts and then lowering his kisses to your stomach.

"Yuzuriha!" A yell from the living room stopped you both.

"Is everything okay!?" At the bloodcurdling scream, Yuzuriha answered startled. When Taiju explained that you and Senku were nowhere to be found, she calmed him down. "Maybe the bathroom or Senku's room."

Yuzuriha decided to check the bathroom and Taiju rushed to the room, where you didn't have time to do anything but pretend you were asleep as Senku held you to his chest to hide the nakedness of your torso.

"Found them!" Taiju cheered. "Though it is odd, they are hugging."

"Huh, maybe they figured it out." Yuzuriha shrugged.

"They are so cute, I love my friends!" Taiju mumbled after a yawn, laying horizontally at the edge of the bed and falling asleep fast.

"Are you guys awake?" Yuzuriha asked, shaking Senku's shoulder only slightly.

"No...?" You whispered, suffocated in Senku's chest.

"Good to know. Keep it lowkey." Yuzuriha caressed your cheek to then pull down your top. "Goodnight."

[anunusualghost]

Excuse me… SIR?! Pt3

✦part1 part2

✦characters: first years

✦gn!reader

✦the boys suddenly cracked a naughty, suggestive joke

✦you guys really loved the “You are NAUGHTY!!” Series so what if we switch it up and the boys gonna surprise you this time!?👀

Ace Trappola

You were sitting together on the couch in ramshackle, and you reached for the popcorn in his lap. His voice was calm, smug even:

“Careful where you reach, babe. Unless you’re trying to grab something other than popcorn.”

You freeze. Arm extended. Soul leaving your body.

“Ace! WTF?!”

He grins wide, clearly loving the way your face goes up in flames.

“What? Can’t a guy have a little fun? You're the one digging around down there~”

You throw a cushion at him. He cackles and dodges.

“You are unbelievable!”

“Aw, come on, It was a joke! You’re cute when you’re all shy like that. I should say stuff like this more often.”

Help. He will say worse next time!!

Deuce Spade

You were patching up a small scrape on his arm, being all sweet and gentle, when he accidentally dropped this line:

“I think I’m developing a condition. Every time you touch me, my heart does… weird things. Like—like I’m overheating. Down there.”

You paused. He paused.

“W-WAIT! NOT—NOT LIKE THAT—!! I MEANT—MY STOMACH—NO—MY LEGS—WAIT—!!”

You stared in shock. He was melting. Blue hair fluffing up in panic.

“I-I’m not trying to be weird I SWEAR!!”

You burst into laughter, and he just buried his face in his hands.

“Please forget I said that. Or kill me. Either works.”

Jack Howl

You were play-wrestling with him, something you always did, until this time he pinned you down and said, dead serious:

“You keep letting me win like that and I’m gonna start thinking you like being underneath me.”

BOOM.

Silence. You stared at him, wide-eyed. He blinked.

“...What?”

You just kept staring.

“Wait. Did that sound… oh. Oh.”

He stood up immediately, face red, ears flattened in embarrassment.

“That came out wrong. I meant in a battle sense—! I wasn’t—!!”

You started laughing.

He groaned and covered his face.

“Stop laughing—! I didn’t mean it like that!!”

Now you’re both flustered idiots.

Epel Felmier

You were helping him fix his uniform collar after he’d come back from spelldrive training, all windblown and flushed. He grumbled, face pink but still trying to act cool.

“You’re fussin’ over me like we are married…”

You laughed. “Well, someone’s gotta take care of you.”

Then he smirked. That dangerous, Epel-is-up-to-something smirk.

“If I say I want a reward for lettin’ you baby me… would you sit in my lap or would you ride it?”

You choked.

“EPEL! WHAT THE HELL?!”

He grinned, clearly proud of himself.

“Heh~ I knew I’d get that look outta you. Who’s blushin’ now, huh?”

You tried to scold him, but he was too proud of himself.

Sebek Zigvolt

You were helping him clean his sword when you jokingly called him your “knight in shining armor.” He turned dead serious, chest puffed with pride, and declared:

“If I were truly your knight, then I would ravish you like in the human romance stories!! Wait—NO—I MEANT—!!”

You choked.

“RAVISH?!!”

Sebek turned red all the way to his neck. He started waving his arms like a malfunctioning NPC.

“I meant protect!! Protect!! CURSE THESE HUMAN WORDS!!”

Lilia was laughing so hard in the background you could hear it through the walls. You were wheezing. Sebek was panicking.

“DISREGARD THAT STATEMENT! I AM STILL A CHASTE AND LOYAL KNIGHT!!”

He will never live it down. You’ll quote it back to him every time he tries to scold you.

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

[anunusualghost]

A Little Bit Is Never Enough, I Want It All!

FratBoy Ryusui Nanami x GN Reader x Nerd Senku Ishigami

Previous Chapter Chapter 3: The Perfect Titration with a 1 Billion % Error. Chapter Summary:  What are the chances that the stranger who walked you back to your dorm happens to be the TA for your chemistry lab? Even more so, what are the chances that your lab group will start a fire during a titration lab? What will Senku, the lab TA, do?

You were beyond tired. Your alarm is blaring in the background, ringing painfully in your ears as you try to wake your body. Bones and joints popping as you stretch. Your mouth feels dry, and you can feel the heavy drag of your eyelids as you try to open your eyes. Your vision is blurred as you try to feel for your phone to turn off the alarm. Your fingers clumsily tapping against the screen, in hopes that the blind taps will turn off the alarm. You sit up on your bed, slowly trying to blink away the sleep as your brain tries to catch up to the fact that you are no longer sleeping.

You didn’t even have any alcohol to drink, yet your body and mind move as if you had. Your mind begins to wander how Ryusui is doing — you can’t even imagine the amount of alcohol he consumed after you left the party — the cruel self-induced hangover waiting for him. The thought of him bailing on your morning meetings flashes in your mind, but you shake it off — he promised.

 Even so, with a deep groan, you leave the comfort of your bed and start getting ready for the long day ahead. 

              ‘Are you running late?’ - 7:15 A.M

Your fingers twitch nervously over the keyboard- your attention flickering between the message you sent Ryusui and the students walking past the bench where you were sitting, desperately hoping it was Ryusui approaching. You’ve been waiting for over ten minutes- a minute longer with no reply from him- every passing second further fueling the pessimistic voice in your mind.  Your teeth tug at your lower lip as you debate whether to leave or wait a bit longer.

How long are you going to wait for him?

Your fingers frantically type out another message- cursing yourself for being foolish- of course, Ryusui wasn’t going to show. Probably passed out in a frat house to sleep off the hangover, ignoring all responsibilities. As your fingers hover over the send button, contemplating whether you should wait, a vaguely familiar voice interrupts your spiral.

“You look like shit.”

You snap your attention to who you hoped was Ryusui, but instead it was Senku, the stranger who walked you home last night. He’s standing before you with tired eyes matching yours and an energy drink in one hand- no doubt from the many he purchased the night before.

“You look like shit squared.” You attempt to joke back, a poor joke, unsure if it will land- that is, until you hear a chuckle from Senku.

“That was so lame.” Senku laughs as he takes a seat in the empty spot beside you, making sure he leaves enough space between the two of you. “What are you doing up so early?” he asks you, snapping the top of the energy drink open.

“I’m waiting for a friend,” you spill to him, not realizing your tone reveals a layer of disappointment you’ve been trying to bury and hide. “I don’t think he’s going to show. Probably experiencing his first hangover.”

Senku hums, acknowledging your words. He thinks about what to say. He’s never been fond of drama, opting to stay far from it, but he can’t help but feel pity for you- he’s been there before.  

This is the second encounter he’s had with you, and it’s just as the first- alone, except for the lack of crying this time.  He takes a long sip of his drink. Maybe you need a push- he thinks.  “Is this friend the reason you were walking alone at night?”

You hesitate to answer, toying with the ring on your finger as you consider your response.

“No?” Your voice is unsure, your answer comes out as a question, which earns you a puzzled look from Senku, prompting you to elaborate further. “I mean, he would’ve walked me home if I asked, but I didn’t want to ruin his fun.”

“Sure,” Senku answers in a flat tone. He finishes the last of his drink before glancing down at his watch. “Don’t you have a class to get to, or do you like to be kept waiting?”

His question hits a nerve - you glance down at your phone, checking the time: 7:39 A.M.

“I have a class at 8, it’s a lab…” You glance at the message you sent to Ryusui—no response.

“Do you need me to walk there with you?” Senku asks, his hands in his hoodie as he waits in front of you, looking at you as if he were testing something, watching how you would react.  

Before you can answer for yourself, your phone pings with a message sent by Ryusui- answering Senku’s question for you.

              ‘SORRY’               ‘OMW’ -7:40 A.M.

“I’m going to wait a bit longer.” You send Senku a shy smile, which he doesn’t reciprocate. No, he looks at you as if disappointed by your choice to stay.

“If it’s a lab class, you’re going to want to get there early.” He advises you. He’s been a TA for the chemistry lab for three semesters now, and he’s seen it all. “Get there last, and you’ll end up with a bunch that doesn’t know what they’re doing.”

You bite your lip, nervously contemplating, and just as before, Ryusui answers for you.

              ‘Wait for me’

At times when you should watch out for yourself and put yourself first in your friendship, you don’t. Those feelings that lay dormant in your brain crawl out selfishly to please him.

Wasting all of our time again.

“I think I’ll be fine,” you tell Senku. Senku knows it’s not fine—he can see the worry in your eyes and the way your fingers fidget with your ring—he notices, but doesn’t say anything about it.

“Have it your way.” He stands up from the seat beside you and readjusts the bag on his shoulder. “Guess I’ll be seeing you around.”

“I guess so.”

You watch as Senku walks away, and once again, you’re left waiting all alone.  

All you do is wait for him.

 Whether it’s from impatience or anxiety, your foot taps against the ground rapidly as you watch the time on your phone.

7:50 A.M

The tapping of your foot increases as you frantically type on your phone, worried that you will be more than just late for your class. Just as you are about to hit send, you hear heavy panting coming towards you- it’s Ryusui.

He’s jogging up to where you are sitting, and he’s towering over you, his hands on either side of you, as he attempts to catch his breath. Your eyes run over him. He looks like he jolted up from bed, putting his shoes on before he dashed out the door. His hair was a mess, tangled and pointing in all directions. Sweat drips down his chest, no shirt hiding his well-sculpted torso, pairing perfectly with the obnoxious gold chain hanging from his neck. Your nose scrunches at the smell invading your nose—a mix of his musk and alcohol.

“You’re late,” you tell Ryusui, as much as you wanted to sound upset at him, it comes out weak and shaky- angry at yourself for putting up with his tardiness. “I’m going to be late…”

“I know, I know, I know,” Ryusui repeats, flopping down to the empty seat beside you, tilting his head back as he rests on your shoulder. He grabs onto your hand, lifting it and pressing the back of your palm against his forehead, groaning as if he were dying- the throbbing pain in his head comes creeping back. “Give it to me straight, am I going to make it, doctor?” He asks with a cheesy smile.

Your uneasy expression flickers until a soft smile replaces it. The cheesy grin reminds you of the childish Ryusui you grew up with, always unserious despite the family name he bears. You could never stay mad at Ryusui for long, not when he uses his charm against you. Not when your heart aches and yearns for him even after years of nothing evolving beyond friendship.

“Hmmm~” you hum as you feel the heat from him transfer to your palm, slowly moving your palm to the side of his neck, pressing two fingers lightly against the skin. “Based on my non-existent medical degree, only a true love’s kiss can save you.” Playing along with his antics.

You make a move to pull back your hand, but Ryusui grabs your wrist, stopping you from leaving him. “Are you going to kiss it better?” Ryusui coos, his eyes flickering between your dilated pupils and lips- you notice it, a blush creeping onto your face. Your mouth opens and shuts, failing to find the words you’re desperately searching for.

“I-it,” Your mouth opens and shuts, failing to find words, stuttering as you’re desperately searching for what to say. “It- you will only spread the infection to me.”

Ryusui lets go of your wrist, pouting at you. “You wouldn’t even kiss me if it saved my life,” Ryusui whines, clutching his chest — you don’t budge. Ryusui notices you glancing at your phone again — the sparkle from your ring flashing him, reminding him of something he wanted to ask you — a selfish question, one that he doesn’t get the chance to ask. ‘Where did you go last night?’

“Ryusui, I have to go.” There’s urgency in your voice as you get up, frantically looking at your phone and back at him. You were late, and every second you waited, the worse it was going to be.  

“I have nothing going on today after my classes,” Ryusui says, holding onto your hand, stopping you from rushing off. “Wanna explore what this tiny college town has to offer?”

Exploring the college town with Ryusui? It wasn’t a bad idea. If anything, it was more of your pace—just you and him. “I’ll do whatever you want, as long as you’re with me.”

“A promise is a promise.”

Senku hated being a TA. If he had a choice, he wouldn’t have even signed up for it. He wouldn't have done it for three semesters in a row, especially for the freshman class. It was just going to be another long, agonizing semester's worth of students' questions that should have gotten them kicked out of the lab. Another semester of resisting the urge to bang his head against the counters when he sees another student without their safety goggles on. Still, he needs those letters of recommendation from the Chemistry department — he needs to kiss up to every faculty member there. He needs to build a reputation for himself — his research and academic standing weren’t enough.

Senku’s eyes scan the crowd of students entering the lab, noticing the same patterns each semester. There’s always a system—every semester, students obsessed with their GPA rush to the tables near the TAs. Those he suspects of flunking or dropping tend to choose seats at the back of the lab, out of sight from prying eyes. This year was no different. Sometimes he wishes it were, maybe then he could be entertained by the slackers and their antics and not have to deal with the kiss-ups who ask question after question.

Senku ignores the hundreds of curious eyes watching him, keeping his focus on the pencil he’s tapping on the lab table out of boredom. He knows why the attention is on him — he’s the head of the lab TAs, and everyone is waiting for him to start the class — but Senku waits instead. His eyes flicker away from the pencil for a second, scanning the few empty seats in the lab — latecomers who got lost looking for the lab.

His mind drifts back to his first day. Everything that could go wrong for him did. Painful memories that he wishes would stop haunting him keep resurfacing. Alarms that never went off, causing him to arrive late to his classes. Difficulty finding the classrooms to the point of even entering the wrong room. Worst of all, what ruined his first semester—his first year—was showing up late to lab and being stuck with a group with no ambition. While other groups struggled together, he struggled alone.

Senku shakes the horrible memories from his mind, glancing at the time on his watch. It's ten minutes past the start of class. He was being overly gracious with the time he spent waiting for anyone who might be experiencing the predicament he had experienced a long time ago. Senku stands up from his seat, and the chatter among the students instantly silences.

 Senku has always disliked giving introductions. In his mind, they’re pointless because no one truly cares about his personal life—the random facts he’s forced to share to follow a social norm he despises. No one even listens to the parts that matter, the crucial information he ends up repeating over and over until the semester ends.

“The name is Senku Ishigami. I am one of the three TAs in charge of this lab section.” His words are monotone, void of personality, stating rather than sharing. He announces useless information about himself, including his major, year in school, hometown, and hobbies. Then he gets to the information that everyone should listen to, but don’t. “Our office hours are listed in the syllabus and can be found in the lab module. If you’re having trouble finding it, please ask around. There’s a billion percent chance that someone in here knows it.”

Senku pauses, waiting to see if anyone, for any reason, has questions about his introduction, but all he hears are hushed whispers. Senku steps back, nodding to one of the other TAs to introduce themselves. His eyes stay on the lab floor, the introductions lost to his ears, waiting for them to finish so the lab can get started.

As the last TA begins their introduction, Senku hears the lab door open. The hinges on the door squeal loudly as it opens, interrupting the introductions and drawing attention to the latecomer.

You walk in, panting heavily from the jog that you forced on yourself, despite your disheveled appearance, Senku recognizes you right away.

“You’re late.” He tells you, with an emotion you can’t quite discern.

“Sorry.” Your apology sounds weak as you’re still catching your breath. Surprised to have crossed paths with Senku again so soon. Even more, you're shocked that Senku is your lab TA. He notices your eyes darting around the lab, searching for an empty seat.

“Lab groups are groups of four. There are open spots in the back,” he speaks to you in the same bored and indifferent tone he introduced himself to the class, different from the interactions you had with him. He watches as you thank him in a hurried tone, rushing to the back, shaking under the many nosy eyes of your peers.

As you settle down with the first open group you see, the last TA finishes their introduction, giving back the attention to Senku. Senku goes over the details of the lab. Knowing that the objective of the lab would fall on uncaring ears.

“…and due before the start of the next lab is your lab report. I will not repeat this, so listen up. Please ensure that you record both your initial volume and final volume of the titrant. You’re going to need this information when answering questions in the lab report. And with that, you can begin the lab.”

As soon as he finishes his spiel, the chatter among the groups picks up, and Senku leaves everyone to their own devices, knowing that eventually there will be groups that will ask for his help.

The titration lab typically takes between one and one and a half hours to complete, which is more than enough time for a three-hour lab block. Yet there were only fifteen minutes left in the lab, and you were the only one left. The rest of the lab groups had already completed their experiments and were dismissed.

Senku had already dismissed the other TAs when you were the only person still trying to complete a titration. Senku usually advises working within your group to speed up the process, but in your unfortunate case, it was your group that slowed you down. Mistake after mistake, the size of your group slowly dwindled until you were the only one left.

The first mistake was a near miracle that he was about to catch it before panic spread throughout the lab—maybe not a pure miracle, but more like Senku couldn’t help but be curious about what kind of group you ended up being after ignoring his very helpful advice.

It had been only twenty minutes since he let go of the reins, and the class started their lab. His eyes roamed the classroom, gauging the pace of the class. From what he could tell, everything seemed to be moving as expected. From what he could see, everyone appeared to have prepared the analyte solution and was now working on setting up the titration.

There was no logical reason for Senku's curious eyes to wander to your lab group, but they did. Luckily for him, you weren’t too far in the back, so he could keep an eye on you. But once he sees the lack of analyte prepared, he wishes he hadn’t seen you. He pitied you. However, he did warn you - come in late, and you’re stuck with the short end of the stick.

He can hear the members within your group bickering with each other while you stand behind them as they fight over who should prepare the solution. You were the only one in the group with goggles covering your eyes and gloves on your hands.

Senku normally doesn’t walk around the lab to oversee everyone, but he can’t help the nosy side of him from showing. He gets up from his seat in the front of the lab and begins to walk around, lingering over your group.

“I said, let me do it. I have retaken this lab twice now. I know what I’m doing,” a member in your group argues. What might’ve sounded like a convincing argument in their head wasn’t as reassuring to those in your group. 

Senku has seen just about every mistake or error someone can make in a lab, at least he thought he had. He doubts himself, thinking it might be his imagination. He does a double-take — one second it’s there, and the next it’s gone. But from your group’s reactions, there was definitely fire. He looks around the lab and notices that nobody but him has seen the small flame from your group.

The fire was more than sufficient to kick your entire group out of the lab, not to mention the lack of protection. Perhaps it was your presence, but he decides to be merciful —except for the idiot who caused the fire.

“Move.” His voice is assertive, his actions deliberate as he turns off the hot plate, removing the analyte from the heat. He takes the solution to the waste beaker and brings it back to your group. “Goggles and gloves now.” He speaks as if scolding a child.

The members of your group scramble, except for the one who started the fire. He doesn’t get far when Senku pulls him by the collar of his lab coat. “This is your third time taking this lab, right?”

The student hesitantly nods their head at Senku’s question. “Well, this is your last time because I’m kicking you out of this lab.” The student tries to argue, but Senku quickly dismisses them. “Out.”

You watch wide-eyed at Senku’s display of leadership, not once wavering, even when the student shouts curses as they leave the lab. The rest of your lab group quickly moves to your side, tense and cautious now that they've gotten Senku’s attention. “If I catch anyone without their goggles and gloves, I’ll be kicking you out of the lab.”

As his final warning, Senku leaves your group alone once more but keeps a close eye out for any other mishaps your group might cause.

The second mistake was the one that wasted valuable time for your group. At this point, Senku hadn’t noticed that your group had nearly emptied the titrant from the burette, a slow and painstaking long mistake. The analyte in the flask was almost filled to the brim with solution and had yet to turn pink until you awkwardly asked for his help. Senku already knew what mistake your group made when you described the situation to him, and with a single sentence, your group understood as well.

“Did you add the indicator to the analyte?”

Frustrated and embarrassed, the group member who had taken charge of this lab run removed their lab coat and goggles and exited the lab. “Fuck this shit, I’m done.”

The third mistake was entirely egotistical. You had taken charge of every part of the lab until the point of the drip. The remaining group member who hadn’t left or been kicked out had demanded control of the stopcock. Their reasoning?

“I got steady hands.”

Senku let out a deep sigh filled with disappointment when he watched you step back from the setup and let your partner attempt to finish off the experiment.

Everything seemed to be going well until the analyte finally turned a light pink. It was the color you were waiting for after two failed attempts, and what was supposed to be the perfect titration quickly became another failed attempt. Your partner with ‘steady hands’ turned the stopcock the wrong way. Instead of turning the stopcock to shut off the flow of the titrant, they turned it so that the titrant poured rapidly into the analyte, changing the light pink to a dark magenta.

Senku could see the frustration in your eyes, your fingers fidgeting again as you try to find the words to say. He can see you trying to reassure your partner that it was fine, that you could redo the experiment and still have plenty of time left over, but he can see the blank expression on your partner's face- they didn’t care. Your partner doesn’t apologize; the only words he gives you are, “I’m dropping out.”

And now, here you were on your fourth attempt at the perfect titration, with Senku sitting on the lab chair beside you, observing you yet amused.

“I think you’re the only group that has taken this long to complete a titration lab,” Senku snickers as he watches you resting your chin on the lab table, eyes focused on each drip that falls into the analyte. “And the only group that had three dropouts within the first day...”

“That’s just my bad luck following me around.” You mumble.

“Or just the consequences of your poor choices.” His words sink into your mind- a quiet 'maybe' slipping past your lips.

It’s quiet except for the small drip that echoes softly throughout the lab until you lean back in the lab chair, stretching with a soft groan. The bottom of your shirt rises, exposing your skin to Senku, and he doesn’t realize he was staring until your words cut through.

“Did you hear me?” you ask, waving your hand at his face. Senku shakes his head, muttering a quick no. “I asked what I missed at the beginning of the lab.”

“Just my introduction—useless information about myself.” Senku dismisses his words, pushing them aside, but you lean attentively toward him.

“Like what?” you ask, shifting your eyes away from the titration to his.

“You don’t have to pretend to care.” He tries to push you away with his words, but you don’t budge.

“I do care.” You protest, and before you can nudge more words from him, your analyte turned a light pink.  “I did it!” you cheer, your smile contagious as you look back at Senku.

“Only took you four attempts.” Senku snickers as he holds up your product—the faintest of pink swirling inside the beaker. “But it’s got to be the most beautiful titration I’ve seen.” Before more praise can slip through his lips, he hears you curse under your breath.

Senku looks away from the beaker and notices your demeanor has changed. Your bright smile turned into a stoic expression, lips slightly turned downward into a slight frown. Your eyes didn’t sparkle with joy, staring blankly at your lab notebook. He walks over and glances at your lab notebook. It takes him a second before he notices your big mistake.

“You didn’t write the initial volume…”

“Yup.” You groan as you press your face against the cool surface of the lab table. He watches you scribble down a random number in your notebook, calculating the percentage of error in his head until he bursts out laughing. “That means you have a billion percent error.” His words draw a deep sigh from you.

Senku knows he shouldn’t —it wouldn’t be fair to the other students —but he gently pulls your notebook away from you, taking your pencil away from your fingertips. The words he says out loud contradict what he writes in your lab notebook.

“I’m a TA, I can’t give out answers, but I’m here to guide you in your journey of learning.” His voice trembles slightly as he does something he knows he shouldn’t—reciting the words in the job description that outline his responsibilities, the very ones he is currently breaking for you. He moves the pencil against the blank space you left, writing a range of acceptable values for your initial amount, all of which would produce an error percentage lower than that of the other students.

He hands you back your belongings, and you stare at him wide-eyed as you realize what he did for you.

“I’ll clean up, you can start heading to your next class.” He looks away from you, hands shaky, as he starts to disassemble your setup. He expects you to run away; you have all you need, but you don’t —you linger behind him.

“You never told me your introduction.”

He stops whatever he was doing, looks at you, and your eyes are waiting patiently for him to answer you. He tries to push you away again.  “If you really want to know, you can attend my office hours and I’ll tell you then.”

“What are your office hours?”

“If you have gotten here on time, you would know where to find them.” He teases. Words that usually would carry a tone of annoyance are void of it. And just as before, he makes an exception for you. “They’re from 6:30-7:30 A.M.”

“What? What kind of office hours are those?” you gasp, which makes Senku laugh.

“The type that was designed to keep students from coming.” He snickers as he watches your face fall into an exasperated look.

“Well…I guess you’ll be seeing me at your office hours.” You say this with determination, oblivious to how your words sound, unaware that you are walking a fine line between friendly and flirty, catching Senku off guard- wondering if it’s intentional. “So that I can know more about you.”

Senku snaps his attention back to the flask in his hand, avoiding your gaze. "Damn, you’re irritating.”

TAG LIST: @rebeccawinters @rhemiar @anajellyc @rinchanisasimp @creatorbiaze @the-wild-tomato

I believe I tagged everyone that wanted to be tagged. If I missed you, please let me know! If you want to be tagged as well, just leave a comment!

A/n: AHHH! I'm such a liar. I was initially going to have some ANGST! in this chapter, but then at some point I got stuck and realized the pace was moving too fast if I included it in this chapter.

I also wanted to focus on developing the relationship between Senku and Reader, and not so much on Ryusui, in this chapter. Unless I change my mind again, next chapter will be all angst and centered around Ryusui and his relationship with reader.

Possible special appearance from Moz, Tsukasa, and Hyoga? :0

I will also be posting an update regarding my blog later today! So keep an eye out!

LOVE YALL!

[anunusualghost]

looking for trouble! (hisoka)

⁺ . ✦ .　⁺ 　 . ✦ hunter x hunter (hisoka x reader) ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . ⁺

content (18+): nsfw, female reader, hunter exam, zevil island, deep in the forest, degrading, bungee gum bondage?

word count: 4.6k

a tune for you: rule #34 (fish in a birdcage)

The darkness encompassing the indigo forest would be enough to unnerve a weary traveler, to send shivers down an unsuspecting spine, just as the touch of the cold night air nips at exposed skin. To others, however, its representation differs. Perhaps it’s an austere simplicity. The night: homogenous, consistent, peaceful even; a harmonious change from day. Or maybe it’s scandalous. A break from the life which you return to in the rather unsuspecting morning.

Zevil Island was about what you expected; lush trees extended far into the distance, speckled with occasional plains, mountainous rocks, and deceptively peaceful beaches. As the moon casts its glow amongst the scene, drowning every winter leaf and blade of grass with a mysterious sheet of pale blue light, the soft flutter of butterfly wings mingles with the whistling of wind, surrounding you as you walk.

The faint hoot of an owl sounds in the distance, and your breathing grows calmer. Looking down, you study the two badges in your hand: #174 and #105, yours and your target’s. You caught him out in the beginning, a large man with a red nose and a sword, tracking him to a field of tall grass after leaving the boat. Unbeknownst to him, you hid in the shadows, lurking deep in the thick branches of an oak tree until the sun set just below the horizon, casting the subtle gloom of dusk over the meadow.

It was over in a second, the creeping darkness and growing exhaustion hindering his senses as you stalked, hidden by the tall blades of grass. His body fell to the floor with a thud, the sound softened by the dense foliage below, and you quickly swiped the badge from his satchel.

That was mere hours ago. And now, the darkness had crept up on you, just as you had to him.

Yawning, you continue your walk through the trees, somewhat overconfident as you stride down the path which winds between trunks, leading you deeper into the forest. Your only task now is to find a place to hide, to ride out the next few days in peace, safe and away from whoever may be targeting you. Peace and quiet.

“Hey.”

Damn it.

The sound makes you stop in your tracks, eyes shooting up from the ground, seeing a figure up ahead, peeking through the foliage. Your hand instinctively moves straight to the knife in your belt.

Hisoka.

You narrow your eyes as you approach, knowing it would be useless to run from him. You meet his gaze, his stare piercing into you as he fingers a card, leaning casually against a nearby tree. There’s something behind those eyes: a sinister desire. For blood, no less.

Hisoka the Magician, nothing but a merciless killer, scheming and preying on those weaker. And they stand no chance, like a cat and a mouse. A cat with a fetish for carnage. A cat who likes to play with his food.

But you are no mouse.

You had encountered him before, in the sticky fog of the Misty Wetlands, where the heavy air sat deep within your lungs. You were close to the second stage, mind fuzzy as you continued to run, recalling nothing but the sensation of sitting, laying down, or simply standing still. That is, until you stumbled upon Gon’s neck in Hisoka’s hand.

It was an altercation. Hands. Knives. A fishing rod.

And those words he spoke to you, still ringing in your ears as he finally let you go.

You passed.

“I don’t want trouble,” you utter hesitantly, finally reaching the small courtyard with a hand up, approaching cautiously, ready to strike at any moment.

“And what if I do?” he smirks, pushing himself from the tree and making his way towards you. With a hand on his hip, he saunters closer, broad shoulders swaying as he walks.

“I’m not your target.”

“How can you be so sure?” he crosses his arms slyly, flicking the card back in his pocket.

“105 was my target, and I was his,” you pause, growing slightly nervous. You can feel an energy, a craving, a radiating force coming from his body. Something pent up, about to explode. “I’ll tell you what I know about your target, just let me leave.”

“Hmm…” he hums, eyes narrowing further as a smile creeps up on his thin lips. “Your two badges are still worth something to me.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, your mind reeling in dread. You can’t beat him; at least, you don’t think you can. You’ve seen what he can do, what options do you really have? The surrounding trees may offer cover, but he’d surely run you down.

“You wouldn’t come out unscathed,” you say after clearing your throat, the blunt words spoken with a slight apprehensive tone. “And you’d need a third badge too.”

His hand moves to his chin and he hums, that devilish smile still plastered on his damned face. He’s already decided something.

“What if we came to an… arrangement?” he proposes, stepping closer as he lets out the soft huff of a chuckle. “An agreement in which we both stand to gain something… and you can leave with both your badges.”

Your stomach turns with anxiety at his words. Nothing could ever be so easy.

“What kind of arrangement?” you ask, almost knowing you might regret it, the words coming out in a hoarse whisper, caught deep in your throat.

He grins, a fisherman who just felt a tug on his line. Slowly, he reaches out his hand, palm upwards, extending his pointer finger out to you.

Within a second, he snaps it back, a beckoning call which somehow sends you flying ten feet forwards straight into him. Your face hits his chest, your body crashing into his as your hands instinctively move up to try to lessen the blow.

“What the-”

“You see,” he sighs dramatically, interrupting your complaint and wrapping one arm tightly around your waist to hold you against him. “I’ve found myself in quite the bind… a predicament, one may say. So much built up with no way to release it…”

Your eyes widen as you feel the slight touch of his fingers grazing up your neck, his other hand still firmly holding you in place, your hips tightly pressed against him. Immediately, heat travels straight to your cheeks as you look up into his narrowed eyes.

“I… you don’t mean…” you stutter.

“I’m sure you’ve figured it out by now, haven’t you?” he smirks as his fingers snake around your neck, his touch firm. Your breath catches as they tighten, and he begins to slowly back you up against a nearby tree, the rough bark tickling the back of your scalp. “I haven’t killed anyone in days…”

You watch his chest rise and fall, his breaths growing quicker, lips parted slightly. And those eyes – dull and clouded with a repressed haze – bare into your soul, scanning every element of your face.

Swallowing, you too let your gaze fall along his face, his body, those muscular arms which hold you against the trunk. What am I doing? This is a terrible idea…

“What’ll it be?” he huffs impatiently, grip tightening as he leans in, causing you to gasp. “You leave in the morning, both badges in hand. As if nothing happened.”

His breath is hot against your ear, rough with his smoldering passion. You freeze, heart racing in nervousness, or… excitement? You can’t tell, and it only makes you feel worse.

To kill… to fuck… is it all the same to him?

The silence is unsettling; his hand remains on your neck, the hold unwavering as a soft dusk breeze makes its way through the forest, rustling leaves along the way.

“Okay…” you steady your voice, looking up into his eyes. “It’s a deal.”

A smile flickers across his face for a fleeting moment, but within an instant, his lips are crashing against yours, hungry and desperate. He lets out a soft sound against your mouth, something between a growl and a moan, as he pulls your hips forward, further into his.

“Good choice…” he murmurs as his grip on your throat releases and his fingers snake backwards, the feeling of sharp nails trailing along your sensitive skin making you wince. Your head snaps back as he pulls your hair, and within a moment his mouth is on your neck. He plants hot, messy kisses along your flesh, occasionally grazing his teeth across you, as if holding himself back from taking a bite.

The cool breeze tickles your neck, now wet with a thin layer of saliva, sending a faint shiver down your spine. Apprehensively, you reach your hand up to the nape of his neck, sliding your fingers through his hair, unintentionally pressing his face closer to your skin.

He groans, and you feel the harsh pinch of a bite at the base of your neck. His hands travel down to your hips, now pulling you away from the tree and backing you up deeper into the forest, the path out of sight.

“Wouldn’t want to be interrupted,” he murmurs between breaths, his mouth moving up to plant kisses along your jaw.

You watch in the darkness as he pulls back, his eyes scanning the environment behind you, expression lighting up for a moment. Without a warning, he pushes you backward, sending you stumbling down into the thick grass below, the dampness of the vegetation cold against your hands as you hit the floor.

He grins, walking closer and leaning over your body between your legs, the moon above disappearing as he steps in front of it, like an eclipse. The white rays of moonlight create a blurry haze around his silhouette, his body a looming shadow above you.

Oh, he’s not gonna be gentle…

Crouching down, his face just inches from yours, he lets his eyes wander over your body fully, taking in your entire form. Your chest, rising and falling swiftly. Your eyes, wide in anticipation. Your hands, propping you up slightly as you rest in the thick grass.

“You’re scared…?”

His question is rhetorical; he knows you’re terrified. Terrified of him and terrified of the consequences. And yet, there’s something that draws you in, something that keeps you from running. Something…

“Does it matter?” you whisper, eyes meeting his through your eyelashes.

“No,” he smirks with a shrug, now moving to settle between your legs, his arm reaching behind you on the grass, steadying himself as he gets onto his knees. “It’s more fun that way.”

As the last words leave his mouth, he captures your mouth in another kiss, his lips moving furiously against yours. You slowly let yourself fall back into the grass, hands gripping his shirt as you pull him down with you. Sounds of soft pleasure fill the air, your senses heightened, feeling the soft skin of his face against yours and the dry tack of his face paint tickling your nose.

You’re just as desperate for it now, your desire snowballing with every kiss, touch, breath. It’s wrong and dirty and indecent but you just can’t help yourself, his body pressing yours deeper into the ground.

And then the movement starts, his hips grinding into yours as he uses a hand to pry your thighs apart. The sudden friction sends a jolt of electricity through your body, a small sound escaping your lips but immediately captured by his.

He lets out a deep breath, his arousal growing more intense as he continues his movement into your hips, one hand keeping you pressed against the grass. Your arms wrap around his body, fingers sinking into the soft fabric of his shirt, tugging at it urgently.

A thin string of saliva connects your lips to his as he pulls back, wasting no time in pulling his shirt over his head and exposing his bare chest to you. His muscles, accentuated under the moonlight, tense slightly as the brisk air hits him.

He leans back in, eyes trained to yours as he tosses his clothes to the side. His hands move to your shirt, not waiting for confirmation before pulling it and over your head, nearly ripping the fabric with his urgency.

You shiver, unable to decide if the reason lies within your exposure to him or the elements, and you fall back to the grass.

“Forgetting something?” Hisoka teases as he slips a finger under the bridge of your bra, lifting your back from the ground as he pulls it towards him. His other hand slides behind you, his fingers working to unhook the clasp.

You feel the color rush to your cheeks as he drops your undergarment to the side, his eyes hungrily trailing down to your exposed chest. He continues to study you for a moment, his tongue pushing against the inside of his cheek as he lets his gaze roam down, and down… and down.

Oh.

Your pants are already being torn off, the coarse fabric quickly sliding down your legs as he tugs them up in the air.

Instinctively, you tuck your knees, pressing your thighs together nervously as he kneels in front of you, eyes still taking in your appearance in silence. It feels demeaning, degrading, dirty, the way he looks at you. And something about it makes heat pool between your legs.

He stands, his fingers slipping under the waistband of his own pants, tugging them down just enough to see his v-line peeking out from the pale fabric.

“Get on your knees.”

His demand rings though your ears, the hum of sound clouding your thoughts. It’s as if your body moves on its own, fueled by nothing but inherent lust and scandal, your knees digging into the dirt as you look up at him.

You tug his pants further down, desperate for him, to feel him, to tastehim. He smirks, allowing you to remove it, letting the fabric fall to his ankles.

The resulting sight makes your breath catch in your throat, your eyes widening as they stare, unmoving from him. The size is…

“Make it fit.”

Your stomach drops, not in fear, but rather sensuality: the thrill of desire. Moving in, you waste no time giving him what he wants, your tongue running up the length of him, pausing gently at his tip and moving back and forth, a slight saltiness spreading throughout your mouth.

Hisoka grows more restless, his breathing staggering, the air caught in his throat as you toy with him.

“Get on with it,” he growls, his hand quickly grasping your hair at the scalp, pulling your face closer to him.

You smirk, eyes not leaving his as you lick a long, thick stipe up your palm, saliva glistening in the night. Your hand moves forward, gripping his cock and beginning to move, tantalizingly, back and forth.

He groans, his fingers intertwining further into your hair and sharp nails scraping against your scalp.

You move slowly, teasing him further with your tongue, taking him deeper, an inch at a time as your hand continues to work at his base. The pressure builds in your mouth, your jaw opening to accommodate him as you continue, almost choking and gagging.

As your lips touch him, taking him in, he lets out a straggled moan, strong arms forcing your head forward again, more and more, until you’ve taken his entire length in your mouth. You grip his thighs, feeling him hit the back of your throat and push harder. You twist, making him fit.

And then he pulls you back, just as you had gotten the chance to adjust. That is, before he thrusts your face into him again, and again, and again. It’s aggressive and violent, his grunts growing louder with every push, his hips moving forwards to meet your face, forcing himself even deeper into your mouth.

You feel tears blurring your vision, unable to feel anything except the sensation deep in your throat, the pain of him hitting against you, but the pleasure of knowing what you’re doing to him.

The muscles of his thighs under your grip begin to tighten more frequently, his gasps and moans growing more desperate.

“Fuck…” he grumbles under his breath, the word barely distinguishable from the series of pleasurable sounds caught deep in his throat, just as he is caught in yours.

He pulls you back by your hair, a strangled grunt escaping his lips, lips which immediately twist into a scheming smile. With his other hand, he places his finger under your chin, using his thumb to wipe the stray saliva dripping from the side of your mouth.

You fall onto your back, pushed back into the grass by Hisoka as he straddles your body. He leans in, mouth finding yours in a kiss as he positions himself over you, sliding his hands along your bare arms outwards, his hands meeting yours. After just a moment, he pulls his hands back, running them back up your arms, one finding your breast and the other, your hip.

You shift to move your hand, but it’s stuck. You tug and pull, furrowing your brow and pulling back from the kiss to glance to the side, staring at your hand, almost cemented to the ground.

“Why can’t I move-”

You’re immediately silenced, Hisoka’s finger moving to your lips, a sly smile plastered on his face.

“Don’t concern yourself with such trivial matters such as your hands…” he whispers, kissing at your jawline as if nothing happened.

The wet sensation draws your attention back to the moment, forgetting about your hands, or lack thereof. He moves again, positioning one leg between yours, pressing down into your body. You move your body up and closer to his as you begin to buckle your hips against his thigh, craving stimulation.

He smirks against your mouth, feeling your slick against his thigh as he continues to kiss you. Suddenly, he shifts his position, moving his other leg between yours. One of his hands travels to your hip, pushing you further into the ground.

“Such a dirty slut for me, aren’t you?” he purrs, his mouth pulling away from yours as his hand moves from your hip, trailing down to your inner thigh. You shiver, eyes meeting his in the starlight, a shadow looming over his face.

He slides a finger up, gently skimming along your skin as he makes his way closer to your core. His finger moves further up, teasing your folds, his touch far from gentle.

“Ah-” you dig your head into his shoulder, your hands gripping at the dirt as he continues to move his finger. Your eyes widen as you feel his sharp nail graze against your clit, the pain and stimulation sending a shudder through your body.

“Careful-” your forced whisper is quickly halted as he moves two fingers into you, slipping easily inside your throbbing pussy. You tighten around him, your heels and hips digging deeper into the dirt as your muscles contract.

It’s messy, inconsistent, almost selfish. He moves his fingers deeper inside of you, forcing small sounds of pleasurable pain from your lips, as if he cares not for your satisfaction, and only for what you can do for him.

After only a moment, he removes his fingers from inside of you, sliding them seductively up and across your neglected clit. They continue their journey up, sliding along your navel, sternum, and up to your neck.

“Clean them,” he demands suddenly, not waiting for a reply and shoving his fingers into your mouth, the tips pressing down into your tongue.

You let out a soft groan, the sound catching in your throat as his fingers muffle you, that is, before you begin to suck and lick him clean. Your tongue moves across and between his sticky fingers, lapping up your wetness from his skin.

As you continue to work at his fingers, he spreads your thighs further apart with his legs, settling between them. His fingers push further down against your tongue, eliciting a small whine from you.

You gasp as you feel him between your folds again, the tip of his cock sliding back and forth against you, lubricated with your slick.

He finally removes himself from your mouth, his hand now resting beside your head on the grass. His body remains pressed against yours, his hips stopping their movement as they slide back, positioning his tip at your entrance.

You bite back a moan in anticipation, pursing your lips as you look up at him, hovering over you.

“Beg for it,” his mouth twists into a smart grin.

“Please…” the word leaves your mouth before you can even register how degrading the situation is. You’re simply too frustrated, too needy. “I want you so bad… please…”

“Say my name,” he whispers close to your ear, his own breathing unsteady as he processes your words. “I want this whole island to hear you.”

“H-Hiso-”

The rest catches in your throat, the sensation of him slowly entering you drawing out a long and straggled moan, mingling with the remnants of a real word. Your fingers tear at the grass below, body contracting as he pushes deeper and deeper, filling you up more than you thought possible.

The movement begins, slowly at first, then speeding up in aggressive desperation. Your head throws back in pleasure, unable to tell if the stars you see above are real ones or not. Hisoka grunts with every thrust, each one growing in power as his fingers dig into the ground beside your head.

And the dirt. It coats your hair as he rocks you back and forth, stuck to the strands with the soft grassy dew acting like glue. You bite your lip, stifling a desperate moan into the night, knowing anyone could be in the surrounding forest.

Hisoka’s hand moves to your neck again, giving you no time to process as he tightens his fingers around you, using you as leverage to fuck you even harder.

“What did I tell you?” he grumbles through his clenched jaw, his pace unwavering. “I want to hear you.”

You oblige, forcing yourself to whisper his name, focusing on nothing else than the word, trying to distract yourself from the tightening around your throat, and the pounding in your stomach. It feels as though your organs are moving, shifting positions to accommodate his selfish length.

“Louder,” he growls.

You try, raising your voice as he continues to grind his hips against yours, his movement losing coordination as time progresses, growing less calculated, more carnal.

It really does feel like he wants to kill you.

You feel the pressure building within you, in time with the tightening of fingers around your neck. Vision growing hazy but body taught with pleasure, you manage to stutter.

“H-Hisoka… I can’t…” Your throat closes tighter, silencing you again.

“I don’t care,” he grunts, his breathing signifying he’s close to the edge. He has no plans of stopping…

You should hate it. It should scare you, terrify you even. The thought of dying: fucked to death on a deserted island by a man who cares not to even learn your name. But your body doesn’t work alongside your rational thoughts.

The constant rhythm, the stimulation, the force, it all comes to a climax.

Your body shakes, his name on your tongue as you feel the release. You tighten around him, your head digging back into the ground, just as he lets out a strangled gasp.

His hand releases your neck as he pushes his lips into yours, his hips moving as he rides out the waves of pleasure. You capture each other’s moans, drowning them in the sheer force of the kiss, passionate and feverous, as messy as anything coming before it.

A final gasp escapes your lips as your body relaxes, growing limp under his as your muscles twitch with remnant stimulations. He pulls his lips back from yours, gliding them against your jaw, his head eventually moving to settle beside yours, with his forehead pressed against the grass.

Breathing. In and out. Just the sensation of it feels like a blessing through all the turmoil. The dark of the night feels duller now, the sky softening into a darker gray rather than a piercing black.

The feeling of time passing is indescribable, minutes turning into hours or hours turning into minutes: you can’t tell. You’re sat there, quietly, simply left alone with your thoughts and a heavy body above you, hands still stuck to the floor.

The silence of the forest continues, as if unaware of the chaos, unaware of the fact you were just fucked to an inch of your life, the leaves still rustling with the same rhythm they did hours before. A peeking dawn cracks over the tops of the trees, the sky hinting to shades of purples and oranges in the distance.

“Hmm…” Hisoka hums, picking his head up to see the changing sky, as if waking from a slumber, the new light now highlighting his face in different ways than before. His face paint is smeared, no thanks to your nose and his sweat, with small pieces having been chipped away. And his hair. His hair has flattened, small pieces falling in front of his face, contrasting their normal pushed-back appearance.

He pushes himself off you, his abs clenching as he lifts himself up, standing up fully with a deep breath. Leaning down, he wipes the slight tint of brown dirt from his knees, the grass and soil falling back to rest on the ground, leaving him completely clean, a different sight from you. In silence, he delicately gathers his clothes, scattered across the grass in different places, putting each item back on, casually but with concentration, eyes no longer darting to you as you watch him, your hands still glued to the ground by some unknown force.

He shrugs his last layer on, smoothing the wrinkles of his shirt as his hand runs across the clove and spade on the front of the fabric before settling on his badge, #44. He straightens it out delicately before adjusting his clothing one more time. As he does, he stares off into the trees, through the dense trucks and into the fading darkness.

“Well, it’s been a pleasure,” he finally says, sighing and waving his hand dismissively as he walks away. With that, your hands are free again, the pressure releasing and allowing you to move your wrists. You gasp, immediately sitting up onto your palms as you watch him, walking back through the forest and to the established path, already beginning to smooth his hair again. Without another word, he disappears into the foliage, his footsteps growing softer and softer as time passes. And then, silence.

And it leaves you: naked, dirty, wet, and disheveled in a patch of grassy soil, blades littered across your body and scattered through your hair. Your breathing slows, the rise and fall of your chest softening as you draw your gaze upwards and to the sky, those warm colors, scaring away the sins of the cold night as they escape to the west, away from the light.

But what could you really have expected?

Perhaps you really were like the others in the end.

Just a mouse.

Happy Birthday Alexis! <3

[anunusualghost]

Content: teenage!Hisoka x teenage!Reader, modern high school AU, loyal!Hisoka, Hisoka is whipped for reader lmao, Hisoka and reader are both 18, séxual themes

Notes: in Ch. 405 of HxH, it’s revealed that Hisoka is CANONICALLY a loyal man who is surprisingly vanilla. He wants a “partner who he can love to the death” (Ch. 405). So there will be parts in this where Hisoka isn’t a cheating bastard who’s obsessed with séx. Thank you for your understanding!!!

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────••─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

High School!Hisoka, who’s obsessed with your body. Hips, breasts, ass or thighs? Nah, give him all four. Even if he’s only reserved to touching your hands, he’s definitely making the most of it. Watch him cover even your hands in love bites.

High School!Hisoka, who leaves love bites in the most inconvenient places. Oops, he “accidentally” left one on your face! Let’s hope your parents don’t think someone beat you up. Oops, he “accidentally” left one on your ear! Let’s hope your parents didn’t think you stubbed your foot or something.

High School!Hisoka, who’s rich for no apparent reason. You’ve never met his parents before, but you’re sure that they might be some sort of multi billionaire for Hisoka to have such refined taste in luxury and for Hisoka to spend so much on every mall trip you go on with him.

High School!Hisoka, who likes stealing whatever candy or gum you’re eating from your mouth with an intense kiss before walking away and chewing on the candy or gum with a smirk as if nothing happened, ignoring the students staring dumbfounded at the both of you in the hall.

High School!Hisoka, who doesn’t even study and yet still passes every single test. You beg him to tutor you, and he eventually agrees with the condition that he can touch you as much or wherever he wants to for the next day. You agreed, and he enjoyed that day way too much.

High School!Hisoka, who can and would kill for you. Who the fuck was ogling you during history? He’ll rip that son of a bitch apart. Who tried flirting with you during study hall? He’s going to make that motherfucker’s life a living hell.

High School!Hisoka, who spoils the shit out of you. If he catches you looking at something for even a split second when you’re both shopping together, he’s buying it without hesitation. You could never forget the time when you first started dating him and unknowingly went into a Chanel store and he bought you nearly half of the items there.

High School!Hisoka, who seems to have a sixth sense for you. Even if you’re in a whole other country, (which you were; you had been on vacation with your family), he could still sense if you were uncomfortable or in pain. He would immediately send you a call the moment your discomfort started, which honestly kind of creeped you out, but it was cute nevertheless.

High School!Hisoka, whose love language is physical touch. Whether it’s squishing your cheeks, kissing you, groping your breasts (which he does far too often for it to be considered anything but an obsession), or fucking you raw, he loves touching you. He lives for touching you.

High School!Hisoka, who most definitely wants to try out some freaky positions. (Sabrina Carpenter mentioned???) Every time you’re on your phone and watching a new Juno position from the Short n Sweet tour, Hisoka is always behind or next to you, his hand dangerously close to your panties, smirking while suggesting to “learn the position.”

High School!Hisoka, who doesn’t mind being teen parents with you. He’s rich enough to give both you and your child(ren, but he won’t tell you that until he gets you pregnant again) a happy and luxurious life. Plus, his parents couldn’t care less, and he’s sure that he would be able to convince your parents.

High School!Hisoka, who would burn the world for you. If you were ever lost or physically out of his reach, he will absolutely and without hesitation burn down the world just to find you.

High School!Hisoka, who loves you far too much to ever let you go.

[anunusualghost]

Operation: Getting My Boyfriend Back With Their Ex!

A/n: This was requested by 🍵 anon- Request Based on this post: Read Here I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!

Pairings: Senku Ishigami x GNReader

Summary: It was a slip of the tongue from Yuzuriha. Her heart aches for the pink-haired girl as Luna rants about her romantic dilemma, unaware that her words will set off a chain reaction.

“It also doesn’t help that he’s fresh out of a relationship…”

“We need to break things off.” His words were like a slap to you- stinging enough to bring tears to your eyes- your voice hoarse and shaky.  

“Where is this coming from?” You step toward him, his gaze wavering away from you, not wanting to meet your eyes. He shifts away from you, having his back turned to you. “Not even an hour ago, you were whispering how much you love me into my ear. What happened?” You're overwhelmed with emotion, anger dripping from your words, yet your eyes reveal nothing but heartbreak.

“Nothing.” The lies slip effortlessly from his lips, “I just don’t love you anymore- feelings can change.”

You’re seething silently, biting your tongue while you stare down at him, who is still refusing to meet your eyes. It doesn’t take you long before you’re on the same wavelength as him, and your mind deduces his actual reason.

“It’s because of them, isn’t it?” Your voice is hopeful, despite his harsh words; as clichéd as it sounds, maybe it wasn’t you. Perhaps the problem lies with the armored man who came pointing a gun in your direction. You watch intently as his fingers twitch before sighing in defeat. He turns to you with an expression matching yours.

“Why do you always make things difficult?” His question comes out as a plea - your keen observations making things more complicated for Senku.

“Because you’re a difficult person.” You joke, your laugh dry as the tears you’ve been trying to hold back finally break through the barrier. You step forward again, and this time, Senku doesn’t move back. He doesn’t pull away when you reach for his hand and squeeze.

“Is this really what you want?” you ask, giving him a chance to walk back on his words.

“I want you to be safe.” He doesn’t take the chance.

“I can protect myself. I don’t need-” You try to speak up for yourself—you don’t want him to worry about you, but you don’t get the chance—Senku snaps at you.

“What can you do against a damn machine gun?” his tone enough to cause more tears to fall. “They’re going to target me and anyone close to me. For your safety, whatever we had between us is over.” Your cries only grow worse with every word, hurting him more than he lets on.

“I’m still counting on you to help with the aircraft carrier,” his voice croaking while his fists balled up, waiting for your response.

“Of course, Senku.”  Your voice is bittersweet as you smile. “What makes you think I was going to give up my love for engineering?”

He knew your words had a double meaning- he knew what you were trying to say.

“Because obviously nobody’d ever be that outta line….right?”

It was a slip of the tongue from Yuzuriha. Her heart aches for the pink-haired girl as she rants about her romantic dilemma, unaware that her words will set off a chain reaction.

“It also doesn’t help that he’s fresh out of a relationship…”

When it happened, the day you and Senku broke up, word spread quickly. Hushed whispers, averted glances as you left the command room—despite your disheveled appearance, dried tears, flushed cheeks—your head was held up high as you walked over to your workstation.

Nobody knows who broke up with whom, so rumors were started and bets were placed on what really happened behind closed doors, further spreading misinformation about the exchange- making it frustratingly difficult for Luna to get to the truth.

“Senku totallllyyy got dumped!” Ginro shouts childishly as he expresses his fantasies under the guise of a viable theory. “You’ve seen the way Ryusui’s been staring at them!”  

“No way! Senku was the one who dumped them!” Yo shouts back, his words slurring due to the alcohol in his system. “I heard he has a thing for Kohaku.”

“Does anybody know the truth?” Luna whines as she hears yet another testimony that contradicts the last.

...

The status of Senku’s new relationship quickly reaches you, and you knew it was inevitable that Senku would appear before you with excuses. So, while Luna was piecing together Senku’s past romances, Senku was with you, the very ex she was currently obsessing over.  

“I thought you should hear it from me, but I’m dating Luna.” He says it to you as if it were a chore, and that only upsets you even more, not for you but for her. “And before you-”

“Senku, I know you inside out.” You stop him before he starts spewing words like a fountain, acting indifferent as you continue to work on the design of the carrier. “So I’m sure you have some rationality for your sudden relationship status, but I’m your ex, and back before petrification was a thing, exes usually don’t stay in contact. So, unless you’re here to talk schematics of the carrier, I think it’s best if we keep our distance.”

“Right.”

Oblivious to you both, Luna was watching you two from afar, and thus began her obsession with you.

Why? Why? Why?- The words chant in her mind as she clings to the wooden pillar, her head slightly peeking out to get a glimpse of you and Senku. It’s the same routine as the day before. Senku makes his way to your workshop, checking up on you and Kaseki, but he doesn’t leave right away. He doesn’t have any other reason to stay; his share of work is located elsewhere, and yet he lingers around, specifically around you.

A whine mirroring a puppy escapes from Luna, pouting as she watches Senku lean forward and closer to you, his shoulder brushing against yours, as he points to something on your blueprints. The space between you both is shrinking to something non-existent.

Her teeth bite her bottom lip as she watches you lean forward, not towards him but to note something on the blueprints. That doesn’t stop Senku from resting his hand on your lower back. His movements are natural, as if he doesn't give it a second thought. It’s something that happens so often between the two of you that you don’t think twice about it. It isn’t until you notice Kaseki’s shocked expression that you remember what you are to Senku.

You push Senku off as if his touch alone burned your skin. The gesture was enough to remind Senku of his mistake. Yet the act alone let Luna down a rabbit hole. The ‘why? Why? Why’? Alternating between another question, ‘Why you and not me?’

…

Why? Why? Why?—the words chant again, blocking any other thoughts from forming as Luna watches you. You were doing nothing unusual- just taking a break with the others. But somehow, your presence drew Senku to join you. It’s as if an invisible force were pulling him toward you whenever the two of you were in the same room.

Every time without fail, Senku would squeeze right beside you, not caring if that meant nudging an oblivious Chrome out of the way. He’d nudge his way back to you, talk and joke to you as if everything was the same, but it wasn’t. He’s gotten used to being with you that he’s forgotten this isn’t how you act towards friends- or even exes.

“You’re amazing.” He doesn’t think twice before the words slip from his tongue. “I love that brain of yours.” Heartache fills you every time he praises you. 

You wonder if Senku was aware of the look in his eyes —how his eyes shimmered with awe and love —was making things more difficult for you to move on—snapping your head in the opposite direction to avoid getting lost in his eyes. With his attention on you, you doubt he notices his girlfriend has been hiding behind a pillar, not so discreetly. How discreet can someone with pink hair be?

Luna is making a mental list of everything Senku does with you, none of which he does with her. And it should upset her—any sane girlfriend would be upset—but it doesn’t. She’s crying, not because she's heartbroken that her very first boyfriend doesn’t pay her any attention. She’s crying because in her mind it was so obvious! You love Senku, and he loves you back!

Days of investigating—days of watching you interact with Senku, it reminded Luna of a love drama. Her nails dug into the wood pillars, biting her lips in anticipation, squealing with a blush covering her cheeks every time Senku moved closer to you. Her hopeless romantic mind was overwhelmed with the idea of Senku kissing you, pulling you close, or waiting for a slip of the tongue to say ‘I love you’. But it never happens. You evade his advances- Luna screams internally.

When you think no one is watching, you glance back at Senku—Luna can see the longing, the heartache in your eyes. When Senku casually compliments you, she notices how your eyes soften and your breath catches, yet you act as if you didn’t hear him! In Luna’s mind, she’s mistaken. She believes you were the one who broke up with Senku.

The question of ‘Why you and not her?’ morphs into ‘Why did you break up with Senku?’.

…

It was only a matter of time before you had had enough of the staring eyes watching your every move. Without looking over your shoulder, your pencil still moving on paper, you called out for Luna.

“Luna, I know you’re there and I know you’ve been watching me, so come out.”

You hear her heels hitting the wooden floor, the sound growing closer until it stops, and she’s right beside you. You look up from your work and notice she’s flustered.

“What is it that you want from me?” you ask. Your voice isn’t rough or mean; it’s gentle and patient.

“WhydidyoubreakupwithSenku!” Luna doesn’t mean to shout, but she’s nervous. The words spill from her lips- the opposite of how a cool and capable woman would speak. 

“What?” you stutter out, surprised at her bold and incorrect assumption.

“It’s just that…” her words are quiet, but you listen closely, “I’ve been watching you and Senku, and I know he’s my boyfriend… but I KNOW HE STILL LOVES YOU, AND I KNOW YOU STILL LOVE HIM!”

It takes you a moment to process her words, staring blankly at her before bursting into laughter. Between each laugh, you wheeze out your response to her. “I didn’t break up with him. He did!”

“WHAT!” she shouts at the sudden development. In her mind, it doesn’t make sense. Not when Senku is the one yearning, and your indifferent attitude towards him. “WHY?!”

“Senku’s an idiot in anything that isn’t science.” Your answer makes her smile. “He didn’t want Xeno or Stanley to target me, so he ended things.”

“He is an idiot,” Luna mutters in agreement.

“Sometimes I have to remind him what we aren’t dating anymore…”

“He still loves you!” Luna gushes, but it doesn’t diminish the somber expression on your face or stop the tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

“I love him too.” Your voice trembles as you turn away from Luna. Luna stands hopelessly beside you, her mind racing with ideas to persuade you to fight for your love, but your words were a punch to her heart- “But it’s over.”

Did Luna create a plan to get her boyfriend back with his ex-lover despite how crazy it sounds? -Yes.

Did she rope the rest of the Kingdom of Science into her scheming plans despite the weird looks she got? -She sure did.

Could Luna’s plan possibly backfire and have her walking the plank? -Most definitely.

Did that stop her? -No!

Luna tries to stay calm and composed, but she can’t help fangirling inside when she notices Yuzuriha giving her the signal that everything is ready for Luna’s plan to happen.

Kaseki eagerly waits on the sidelines to help his favorite apprentice reunite with his favorite scientist. Luna gives him a knowing nod — ‘Get ready.’

 Luna looks up to Magma and Yo, who are holding up huge sheets of metal, in anticipation of Luna’s signal. With hand motions mimicking a gun, Magma and Yo run at each other with full force- the metal sheets clinking loudly against each other- the sound eerily similar to a gunshot.

The sound echoes loudly throughout Perseus, and everyone pretends to move around in fear, shouting ‘sniper!’, adding to the chaos that Luna planned for. Kaseki moves quickly to your workstation, and Luna runs towards Senku in his lab.

Kaseki calls out for your name, desperately. He looks up to you with tears in his eyes and his voice quivering with worry, “It’s Senku.”

You don’t hesitate to drop whatever you’re holding—regardless of the hours of work you’ve put into it—the only thing on your mind is Senku. You push past Kaseki in a hurry, moving across the deck of the ship. Rushing in such desperation that you don’t notice Ginro’s cheesy smile when you run past him. Ignoring that if there indeed was a sniper, you were out in the open- an easy target for them.

You burst into the med-bay, expecting to see Senku badly wounded again, but no one is there. You turn around, ready to run out again—risking yourself to shout for Senku’s name-anything to find him, but you don’t get far. Senku stands before you, holding onto the frame of the door. He’s panting loudly before you, sweat running down his forehead, his hand clutching onto the side where he was once shot.

Neither of you wastes a second before you’re running towards each other. Your hands running through Senku’s body trying to find where he was shot- Senku does the same for you.

“W-where?” Senku stutters, his hands run upwards, holding onto your jaw with such tenderness, afraid he’ll hurt you even more. Your hand stops running around and holds onto Senku’s wrists while he cups your face.

“You got shot, again.” You cry, the idea of the situation repeating itself overwhelming you.

“I’m okay,” Senku says softly once he realizes you were okay, that you were safe in his arms. “They told me you got hurt.”

“I’m fine,” you reassure him, leaning into his touch for comfort. It’s the first time in weeks since you last felt Senku’s embrace, always pushing him away. You didn’t realize you missed it as much as you thought—sobbing into his chest. “Senku…”

“What is it?” he asks softly, pulling you back from his chest so he can see your expression. You don’t say anything, staring back at him with tearful eyes—enough for him to feel his heart ache more than it has since the day he left you. The unknown force that has always attracted Senku closer to you is now pulling you toward him with increasing magnitude. You don’t resist the force nor his intent—you lean closer to him until your lips meet his- Slow and full of yearning.

“I love you.”

…

Oblivious to both of you, Luna and the rest of the kingdom of science were pressed against each other, peering through the open inch of the door as you rekindled with their leader.

Single once again…- Luna cries happily despite her first breakup. 

A/n: I think this was the quickest I wrote :0

I'm also slightly trying a different type of writing style? I'm not sure if it's dramtically different, you can still tell it has my style but something more? Does that make sense? Let me know what yall think!

[anunusualghost]

Please Don't Use Science To Justify S-

A/n: This is a new and improved version of the original. Same concept, but (IMO) better descriptions and grammar! WARNINGS: THIS IS SMUT! NSFW! IT'S FILTHY PLEASE BE ADVISED STORY CONTAINS: hand-job, oral (male-receiving), thigh-fucking, edging, swallowing bodily fluids, dacryphilia, and overstim.

Everyone could sense the stress piling on Senku. The way his eyes twitched at every failed attempt to create yet another tool for the Kingdom of Science—you didn’t bother yourself with the schematics, only there to ride the wave of progress.

You observed him quietly, watching the bags under his eyes worsen day by day. His gravity-defying hair, askew from the countless times his fingers ran through it. And what motivated you the most was the untidiness of his clothing. The last thing he cares about is his appearance—and it shows. His collar tugged low and to the side, revealing more skin than he typically would.

Bad luck seemed to drown Senku, and you were witness to it all. Snickering to yourself when you catch the moment Senku trips over a rock, the blueprints in his hand scattering across the dirt. You listen attentively to the agitated sounds that spew from Senku’s lips.

You saunter over to him, carefully avoiding stepping on any of his blueprints unless you want to become a victim of his recent outburst. And if you’re being honest, you don’t think your words will provoke much of a reaction from him. It was just supposed to be a joke—a ruse—something to irritate the scientist further. A joke as a method to relieve his stress and improve his mood—surprised he took the bait and ran with it.

“You need to get laid.” You say as if it were an observation- the answer to all his problems.

“Are you offering?” Senku quips back without missing a beat, not once offering a glance in your direction, his attention fixated on the mess of blueprints.

You thought Senku was immune to teasing—immune to biological needs and wants. Not that you were complaining, although your wrist was starting to ache.

“Haah… slow down,” Senku whined. His body is at your mercy- shivering and twitching from the cool touch of your hands moving up and down with precision and a pace faster than light itself- his hips buckling at the feeling of your hands squeezing him cruelly.  

Begrudgingly, you comply with his plea. The pace of your wrist slows until it comes to a complete stop. Dazed and confused, Senku looks down at you, the sight causing him to spew curses under his breath. You're looking up at him with wide eyes, mouth wide open, with your tongue sticking out a glob of spit. Senku watches impatiently as it falls from your tongue and onto him. Hissing at the warmth of your saliva mixing with his own excretions.

“You’re so pretty like this,” you tease, smirking as you lather him with your spit. Your thumb drawing circles on the tip of him, your fingers gently squeezing the base. You reposition yourself, dropping onto your knees so that you sit between his thighs, and your mouth hovers over his tip. “I wonder what expression you’ll make when I take you into my mouth.”

“Heh, guess we will find out.” Senku tries to be his snarky self, not wanting to unravel in your hands completely, but he can’t hide the look of anticipation on his face. You’re looking at him with a mischievous grin that slowly dissipates into wanton desire as your lips inch closer. Your lips are pressed against him, the warmth and slick feeling of your mouth on him, gently sucking only his tip.

“Is that all you can handl-” he chokes on his words when you take him completely. The sounds that emerge from Senku’s lips are uncharacteristic. A low groan, verging on animalistic, slowly gives way to pitchy whines and gasps. You bob your head up and down, drool running down the side of your mouth, tears welling up in your eyes at the feeling of Senku hitting the back of your throat. Lewd wet echo throughout the lab. The only thing deterring others from entering is a hastily made, poorly designed sign with bright red letters: Stay Out. You pull back, your drool connecting you both.

“Sorry, what was that?” you ask, feigning innocence. You’re pecking kisses onto him, each kiss receiving an airy gasp from Senku. You welcome him back into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and bobbing your head.

Senku can feel the stress on his shoulders dissipating- all thanks to your warm tongue swirling around him, his hips occasionally bucking. He can feel himself hitting the back of your throat- his ears were blessed with the sounds of your quiet gagging. His fingers tangling themselves into your hair, selfishly moving you at his desired pace.

“C-can I?” he asks, almost begging. With your mouth full of him, you hum- nodding your head. He can feel you moan around him when he tugs at your hair, pulling you flush to his hips. You grip his thighs, whining at the feeling of his cum running down your throat. When Senku’s grip falters, you pull away- your body eagerly begging for air. Senku slides beside you, breathing rapidly, while he covers his eyes with his forearm.

“I underestimate the science of hormones…”  Senku laughs, falling onto his back. “Sucked the stress right out of me”

“Next time I’ll charge you,” you joke.  

“Are you trying to bring back prostitution?” Senku asks, smirking at the idea.

“Depends on the pay…I wonder how much dragos this is worth” you mutter. Senku snickers at your response- his mind reeling at the thought of Ryusui’s dragos crashing due to an unforeseen market.

The feeling hits him like a wave. His eyes grow heavy — the lack of sleep finally catches up to him. He can barely manage to stay conscious, nearly missing your words.

“You know where to find me if you need me.”

...

The very next day, you hadn’t seen Senku at all. Not that it mattered to you anyway—you were just someone who happened to give him some much-needed head. It wasn’t until the sun set and you were ready to go to bed that Senku arrived at your hut. When you opened the door, you couldn’t hide the smirk on your face. You knew exactly why he was there.

“Back so soon?” you teased as you let him inside. “Am I that good?”

“Good or bad doesn’t have to do with anything,” Senku explained. He averted his gaze from yours, rubbing his neck to maintain his cool demeanor. However, the light blush on his ears exposes him. “Sexual activity has been proven to help reduce stress and improve well-being due to the hormones that are released-”

“Please don’t try to use science to justify a blowjob.” you interrupt him, not wanting to hear the biological processes that would somehow correlate to having his dick sucked.  

“I’m not,” Senku says with slight annoyance. He has his arms crossed as he finally decides to match your gaze. “But I need you to do it again…”

 “Need or want?” you ask as you move closer to him. You tilt your head to the side and place your palm on his chest. You feel him stiffen under your touch, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he grips your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. He leans down to whisper in your ear, “Need.”

“That’s too bad…My jaw still aches…” You whine.

“Don’t take more than you can handle.” Senku retorts. You feel Senku’s palm rest on your jaw, and you lean into his touch. The tips of his fingers tug at your bottom lip, and you comply with his silent demand. You part your lips just enough so that his fingers find the warmth of your mouth. You lightly suck at his fingers. “Your mouth looks fine to me.”

With his fingers still in your mouth, you mutter, “What if I gave you something better than my mouth?” Your words amuse him. He studies your face, looking for any hint as to what you're suggesting…

surely you don’t mean…

“And what would that be?”

You don’t answer; instead, your hands wander to the strings holding his tunic closed. You untie his tunic and push it off his shoulders. You raise your hand to your mouth and let some saliva fall from your lips and pool onto your palm.

Senku’s breathing hitches at the warmth of your hands, stimulating him. He let his head rest between your shoulders, soft moans escaping his lips. He feels his knees buckle every time you slow your pace and squeeze, gasping at your cruel treatment. He can feel it. The same sensation of ecstasy- the release of oxytocin, the throbbing of his cock, the rapid beating of his heart. He was close.

And then he wasn’t. You’re pulling away, feeling the loss of your warmth as he moves back from your neck. You’ve never seen him so needy; you almost felt sorry for him, especially with the way his eyes pleaded with yours.

He watches patiently as your hands move under your dress, noting the removal of your underwear. His gaze doesn’t leave you as you turn around and press your bottom against him. Your forearms find rest against the wall. You position his cock between your thighs. The base of his cock rubbing against your wet folds. Senku places his hands on your waist to steady himself.

“Just the thighs,” you mutter. You can feel him hesitate, the tip of his cock barely disappearing before pushing back. At first, his thrusts are shallow and weak until he hears you whining at the feeling of the tip of cock brushing against your clit. The soft moans- the gasps of pleasure that escape from your lips give him the confidence he needs. He tightens the grip on your waist before his mouth finds its home between your neck once again. Senku parts his lips, his tongue swirling the exposed skin on your neck- your breath hitching at the feeling.

“Senku...” you moan. He doesn’t pull away; instead, he hums against your skin. Littering kisses just as you did to him. He begins to quicken his pace, the slick of your arousal spilling onto him, making it easier for him to thrust against your thighs. He can feel you trembling against him, almost pulling away.

Not again…

Without a second thought, Senku pushes you both to the ground. You found yourself with your stomach on the ground, your back arched as your moans got louder and more frequent. He has you caged to the ground, one arm over your head and the other slithering under your dress. They travel from your stomach and go further down until they find what they’re looking for.

Your eyes jolt open at the feeling of his fingers rubbing circular patterns onto you, “Senku,” you whine.  You were supposed to be pleasuring him, but instead, you found yourself at his mercy.

“Don’t like the taste of your own medicine?” Senku teases. He lightly tugs at the bud, alternating between a sadistic pinch and a soothing rub. It didn’t take a genius to know you were reaching your end. You were squeezing your thighs far tighter than before. Your hips were trembling, and were you crying?

Your words are garbled and slurred- he can’t quite uncover your words except for the quiet chants of ‘Senku’ rolling off your tongue. You can feel your eyes crossing, your nails rake across the ground, your body thrashing against Senku’s as you feel yourself closer to sweet release.

You feel Senku’s hands find yours, his palm resting on top of yours and squeezing gently. You lift your head enough to look back at Senku. He catches your stare and leans toward you. The sensation of his lips against yours is enough to overwhelm you. Before you know it, something inside you snaps. You can feel it dripping down your thighs, soaking Senku’s thighs along with it.

Senku continues to thrust against your thighs as he feels you cry into his mouth. Feeling you squeezing around him was enough for him to push him to the edge, granting him what you had denied him. With a final thrust, he lays plush against your back as he pumps his cum against your stomach. His cum dripping down below and mixing with your own release.

With his last ounce of strength, Senku pulls you up and moves you away from the mess you created together. You lie next to each other, trying to regain composure. It was quiet except for the sounds of shallow breathing, both of you trying to catch your breath.

Senku breaks the silence with words that make a grin spread on your face.  “There’s a billion percent chance I’m going to be stressed tomorrow…”

“You know where to find me.”

...

A/n: I've been looking over my past work and :0

All I can say is that I think I've definitely improved since I started...