Now we know how Dr. Stone men are in love, how about when their courting/pursuing and to being a husband? đ€
masterlist
ËËËê° đ ê± RAE'S NOTE. it took time but here you've it, my dear. i hope you enjoy the read as i've enjoyed writing it (^^).
ËËËê° đ ê± pairing. senku Ă gn! reader, gen Ă gn! reader, tsukasa Ă gn! reader, xeno Ă gn! reader, stanley Ă gn! reader
ËËËê° đ ê± summary. how they'd flirt with you, plus a brief example of their confessing.
courting headcanons
âSenku Ishigami is in denial (again). He absolutely denies heâs âcourtingâ anyone, yet heâs inventing things that just happen to make your daily life easier. He calls it âoptimization,â but his ears go red when you thank him. Not at all subtle.
âYour life is soon filled with more details about science than before. His explanations of scientific concepts come in an oddly intimate manner, with metaphors tailores too your own interests. Then, he decides to make little experiments for just the two of you, such as stargazing sessions where he quietly watches your reactions more than the sky.
âSenku starts to remember everything, and when I say everuything I mean it, you say. Offhand comments become projects. Do you like a certain scent? Heâll recreate it. Say you miss a food? Heâll reverseâengineer it. If you ask him? It's for the advancement of civilization, 10 billion percent sure.
âHis version of a confession is undeniable his in style, indirect but unmistakable. He'll invite you to join a longâterm project, something that will take months or years.
âDon't make a big deal about it⊠I want you in my future when we rescue humanity.â
âWould you believe me if I told you it started as a joke? Gen Asagiri flirted with you as he had done with many others before, but with you, something's different. He starts sizing up your reactions more closely after every interaction. His jokes become gentler, more intimate. His compliments stop being generic and become specific, almost vulnerable.
âThen, he starts bringing you things that seem casual⊠But that everyone knows is not. A pretty feather, a perfect leaf, a polished stone, all small tokens which he hands you theatrically. And once you turn around with his gift already in your hands, he stares at your back with a tenderness that he doesn't allow himself to show face-to-face.
âGen can be a showman in public, in a way. But in private, his act tones down, revealing a softer side of him. He likes to sit with you at sunset, when the world turns golden and still. And when the conversation becomes intimate, he looks at you with an expression he doesn't use with anyone else: a mixture of longing, desire, and fear.
âIn case it wasn't clear, he's afraid of what he feels. He's insecure about his own feelings because of their profound nature. However, one day he blurted it out as if it were a joke, despite the slight tremor in his voice.
âYou know⊠I like you more than is strategically sensible.â
âAs I've said before, Tsukasa Shishio shows affection through protection. He doesn't see you as weak, if you're wondering it, yet he doesn't hesitate to position himself between you and any possible threat without making a show of it.
âTsukasa is an avid listener at that. When you speak, he gives you his full attention, as if your words are something sacred. He doesn't talk much about himself. Nevertheless, it's your trust in him that makes him lower his walls, sharing personal details that no one else knows.
âAnother quiet show of his interest comes in the form of small rituals he has started to form with you: He leaves wildflowers where he knows you'll find them, he prepares the best piece of meat without saying a word, he covers you with his coat while you sleep, he watches you tenderly when you think he can't see you. They're not that grandiose, but they're enough to make you warm on the inside.
âThen, one day, the imminent arrived. It was in the way he looked at you, really at you, and admitted wanting to give you a future, one which he's willing to protect with his own life if it meant you would be happy.
âI want to build a world where you can live without fear.â
âI hope you're ready, because Xeno Wingfield finds your mind stimulating enough, which translates to a new attraction to debating with you about anything and everything. If he starts seeking you out to debate, to listen to your ideas, to ask your opinion on complex issues⊠Oh, heâs already halfway gone.
âSimilar to Senku, he finds it intimate the prospect of sharing knowledge, especially the one he holds dear. For such, he'll offer to teach you anything you may ask him about, whether it's the intricate works of space, or why his gloves have those metal claws attached.
âIntense emotions aren't Xeno's strength, which seems pretty clear, so he lets them escape through small cracks during your moments together. Funnily enough, if you make him laugh, really laugh, he stares at you as if he doesn't understand what just happened to him.
âWhen he finally decides to say something, he does so with precision and a deep vulnerability. Despite the firmness present in his voice, his hands trembled just the slightest. For him, admitting his affection is a leap of faith.
âYou have become⊠Important to me. More than I anticipated.â
âWe're already aware that Stanley Snyder is a man focused on actions; that is, his affection is shown through various actions that demonstrate his attention to you. He fixes things for you, sharpens your tools, stands guard nearby without being askedâŠ
âThose eyes of his will be set on you, whether you're aware of their constant presence or not. He watches you from a distance at first, almost like a soldier assessing a battlefield. Based on what he learns from his curious and respectful observation, he adjusts his behavior accordingly. His attention is constant, silent, and almost devotional in nature.
âHis teasing is⊠He teases you dryly, to be honest. Yet if someone else does it, he shuts them down with a single look. He's the only one with the right to fluster you, and everyone should know that.
âStanley isn't the most open about himself at first, taking his due time to open up for you. His life comes to your knowledge in fragments: a story from his past, a scar explained, a rare laugh shared. He doesn't talk about himself. Not out of pride, but because he doesn't know how. But with you⊠Things just slip out.
âAnd, when he finally gains the courage, his confession comes bluntly, directly, and devastatingly sincere, just like him.
âIâm yours if you want me. Just say the word.â
synopsis: in which senku tells stories about you â which does nothing to change the fact that he undeniably misses you. 4.7k words
pairing: senku x maomao!gn!reader (there's no denying it, it's romantic now)
tags: canon divergence (slightly?), 70% flashbacks, reader is inspired by maomao from apothecary diaries, written as gn but i may have made pronoun mistakes along the way js lmk!, fluff, yearning senku but he doesn't know it yet (kind of) tw: self poisoning, suicide/self-harm jokes
(prequel to this)
"Come on," Chrome whined, tugging on the edge of Senku's dress persistently. "You never tell us anything about life before the stone!"
"I've already told you about the inventions before," Senku retorted, swatting Chrome's hand away. "All of the ones you asked for, by the way."
"Okay, that's true, but you never told us about your life before the stone," Chrome clarified.
Kohaku nodded in agreement. "All we know is that your father is the founder of our village. Were you as unpleasant then as you are now?"
"I feel like he was always like this, ever since he was born," Gen chimed in, biting off a piece of his meat on the stick he held over the fire. "I wonder if anyone even liked him."
"Anyone who did would have to have been incredibly stupid," Ginro mumbled.
Senku didn't really know what made him cave in. Maybe it was the way that this wasn't the first time that they had asked him to talk about his life before the petrification. Maybe it was the way they were so quick to assume things about his life without concrete proof.
"For the love of â" he sighed exasperatedly, heavily planting himself onto the ground out of irritation. "Fine!"
Chrome, Kohaku, Gen, and Kinro collectively blinked at the same time. They didn't actually expect that to work, not when it hasn't been working for the past two weeks.
"I'll tell you about my life before the petrification," Senku said, "but you have to keep your mouths shut and don't interrupt me with any stupid questions. Understood?"
Chrome and Ginro nodded eagerly. Even Kohaku and Gen fell silent out of curiosity. This would be the first time the stoic, logical scientist actually shared things about his life, and they weren't going to let that chance go away.
"I'll only talk about one thing," Senku clarified. "And it will only be about this one thing, since I'm planning on reviving them sooner or later, and you might as well learn about them now."
"Them?!" Ginro gasped, and immediately yelped when Kohaku knocked their elbow deep into his gut in order to shut him up.
Gen politely raised his hand, making Senku sigh again for what would seem to be the first of many that night. "What, mentalist?"
"Are 'they' a friend of yours?" He asked.
The question made the scientist fall silent. Were they friends? He barely even considered Taiju a friend, and he's known him for much longer than he's known you.
And there's no way what he feels for you is that of a friend. He may be more knowledgeable with science and facts, but he wasn't ignorant about how his biology reacts different around you.
"I guess you could say that," Senku said. The rest of those surrounding the campfire exchanged odd glances when they all noticed the softness that his tone took.
Which meant that his story was just beginning.
âââââ
The first time you met Senku was a memory that Senku could never forget, because he was the only one of the two of you that actually remembered it.
You were both in your first year of middle school, and Senku had once again stayed behind in his school's science laboratory to make some things that Byakuya would definitely scold him for trying to make at home. At least the lab was left basically unsupervised, leaving him to do whatever he wanted as long as he cleaned up after.
After another failed simulation of his rocket engine, he packed up and went home, his head deep into calculations and possible solutions for his trial today.
He didn't expect to hear manic giggling from the small patch of trees beside the exit of his school.
Senku was curious. Of course he was; it was part of the basic structure of his ingenuity as a scientist. He would not have become the person he is now without curiosity, as it was his biggest strength. (And weakness.)
He approached the source of the sound cautiously. For all he knew, it could be some escaped convict that's currently hiding out in the greenery of his school.
He pushed the branches away, revealing a kid.
Their back was turned towards him. Their white uniform was dirtied with lines of soil, hair decorated with the random stick or stray leaf.
They were hunched over something, muttering to themself and laughing. Based on appearance, they were definitely not an escaped convict, but with how they were acting, they might as well be one.
(As if he isn't the same way when he was passionate about something.)
The kid was stuck in their own world, giving not a single sign that they were aware of Senku's presence behind them. He slowly approached them, peering over their shoulder to see what they were so focused on.
Now that he was closer to them, he could make out a bit of their unceasing mumbling, catching a few worlds like "rare⊠effects⊠test it outâŠ"
Once he got a better view of what they were holding, he could no longer stay silent. "You do know that's poisonous, right?"
That was enough to snap the kid out of their trance. They yelped and spun around, the momentum causing them to fall ungracefully onto the dirt. Their eyes, wide with shock, stared up at Senku, as his seemingly uninterested red ones stared back at them.
That was the first time you had seen this boy. You were a kid that was always in their own separate plane of existence, never talking to someone long enough to remember their names or faces. Despite his unnatural hair and eye color, you don't remember seeing anyone like him in your school, but you were wearing the same uniform.
"You know about poisonous mushrooms?" You said incredulously. Not even your parents, who have been putting up with your antics since you could read books about poison, ever understood your interests. They only understood enough to keep you out of harm's way â not that it always worked.
The boy shrugged. "It's not hard to tell. The colorful ones are normally poisonous, sometimes even by touch alone."
You shook your head, holding your bundle of mushrooms towards him. He instinctively recoiled, but that didn't deter you. "These ones are only poisonous through ingestion! I read somewhere that these make your head feel fuzzy and affects the way your brain perceives color. I can't wait to try them out later."
The boy blinked. Once, then twice.
"You're crazy," he muttered, his eyebrows creasing. He couldn't believe there was someone as stupid as you.
You waved his insults away. "These aren't poisonous enough to kill. I mean, whoever eats these would most probably sleep for almost two days, but it doesn't kill if you just eat small amounts of it. I'll be fine!"
"How do you know so much about mushrooms?" The boy asked.
You grinned, standing up and dusting your uniform off with your free hand. Your parents were sure to murder you once you arrive home wearing yet another dirtied set of uniform, but to you, it was worth it if you were able to keep these mushrooms.
"I'm an apothecary!" You proclaimed, tilting your head up high.
The boy offered you a blank look. "Apothecaries don't wander around school campuses hunting for poisonous mushrooms."
"There's no better way to develop an antidote than testing it on yourself!" You didn't let the boy's pessimistic view on your practices dampen your spirits. "There's nothing like the threat of your own life being ended to find the most effective antidote out there!"
His expression morphed into something discreetly concerned. "You're insane."
"I prefer the word 'eccentric,'" you countered, weaving around him to leave. "Only geniuses would appreciate my dedication to my work."
Your last words were said as a murmur, obviously to yourself and not to him, but he froze nonetheless. Did you just assume that Senku was⊠stupid?
Despite being closed off and not having that many friends, there was no doubt that Senku had pride. Pride as a scientist, a soldier of technology, and a genius. The fact that you had indirectly demoted him to the status of an average person because he had said nothing but insults about how you do your craft hit a spot Senku refused to acknowledge existed.
"Some poisons have long-lasting side effects," he said snarkily. "Your own perception of color could be permanently altered depending on the strength of the mushroom's poison. Even worse, you could partially paralyzed."
You stared at him, eyes blank and unreadable.
Then you turned away without saying a single word.
Senku sputtered, slightly tripping over an overgrown root as he tried to catch up with you. "Wha â hey!"
You had gone back to your mumbling, your pace unnaturally fast for a small kid. You left Senku in the dust made from his own ego and audacity as he keeled over and started wheezing. For someone with a strong brain, he sure sucks at any kind of physical activity.
"Wait!" He called out, weakly reaching a hand out in a pathetic attempt of stopping you from leaving.
You finally turned, tilting your head at his distraught state. You had just stepped out of the gate, and he was already winded? What a weak kid, you noted.
"I'm a scientist," he said, finally gaining enough of his composure to straighten his back and lift his chin up high. "I can help you with your mushrooms."
You frowned. You couldn't really recall if there was ever a time where someone willingly offered to help you with your "weird" interest. "How do you plan on helping me?" You asked.
"I can help you develop antidotes," he offered. "I'm knowledgeable in chemistry and biology, so it would be easier for you to make an antidote, thus giving you more opportunities to test out poisons."
Putting a hand beneath your chin, you gave a moment of thought. It would be helpful to have another person of science working with you.
Maybe I can even try out stronger poisons now that I don't have to be completely mobile to administer a cure! You thought gleefully.
"Deal!" You chirped, holding out your hand. Your palms and fingers were stained with clumps of dirt, and Senku physically recoiled at the sight.
You looked down at your hand, suddenly aware of how dirty it was. "We'll shake on it tomorrow when my hand's clean! I have to head home. See you around, scientist!"
You gave him a single wave, before you launched into a sprint, obviously looking forward to working on the mushrooms in your house.
Senku slapped his hand on his forehead, shaking his head back and forth indignantly. What the hell did he just get himself into?!
He resumed his more relaxed trek home, his mind going back to his rocket model and more improvements, but now, his thoughts occasionally circled back to you â you and your messy uniform and beaming smile.
Then, he realized.
I don't even know their name.
Senku, at the time, didn't really understand why he was so hellbent on getting on your good side. You were just some random kid that he's known for less than an hour, but he was willing to put his dignity as a proud scientist on the line just for you to not card him off as another average person.
Whenever Taiju or Byakuya asked why he tried so hard to get close to you as he grew older, he had simply said that he didn't want you insulting his intelligence, since he was smarter than people who were even as old as his dad. But now, three thousand years later in a new world, he knew exactly why he sought for your companionship so much. It was the same motivation that drove him to look for your statue, somewhere out there, separated from his over the centuries that you've both been in stone.
From then, when you were kids, even until now, you had been the only one who didn't make him feel like an anomaly in society. Of course, he wasn't ashamed of how much smarter he was compared to the average adult, but he knew that his ingenuity also put up invisible walls between him and kids his age.
Though he may be the most logical child â or person in general â that you would ever meet, he was still inherently a human. Humans thrived on connection with others, because they were social beings. All humans, no matter how young or old, no matter how normal or twisted, will always seek human connection, whether consciously or otherwise.
Now that he had the chance to forge an alliance (because Senku would rather die than call it a friendship) with someone who was as passionate and knowledgeable in an aspect of science as he was with the entire subject, he subconsciously grabbed onto the chance and didn't want to let it go.
When young Senku arrived at his home, his father immediately noticed something was different about him. Byakuya could tell that his son seemed⊠hopeful.
"Did anything interesting happen today?" Byakuya asked lightly, peering at him over an old newspaper.
"I met an apothecary," he announced. "They're very odd."
"Like 'Taiju' odd?" Byakuya said teasingly, but Senku shook his head, ever the serious child.
"They're another plane of odd, but⊠they're like me."
The last part of the statement was so soft that Byakuya barely caught it.
"What do you mean, Senku?"
The kid shrugged, any ounce of childlike softness that had surfaced just a few moments ago already gone, as quick as it had arrived. "They're passionate about poisoning themselves."
Without any further elaboration, Senku retreated to his room, ready to work on his rocket during the time he had left before Byakuya would force him out to eat dinner.
"'Like you,' huh?" The older man mused, staring outside the window. The sun had began to set, which meant that he should get started on dinner soon. "I hope you find a friend in them, Senku," he muttered to himself, smiling slightly as he stood up and rolled up his sleeves, ready to get to work on food.
âââââ
Over the course of the next few months in your first year of middle school, you found yourself spending a lot of your free time with Senku. Through him, you met Taiju, the brawn. You thought that him and Senku complimented each other perfectly; that is, Taiju was nothing short of an airhead.
"Why would you try to eat that?!" Taiju cried, slapping another kind of brightly-colored mushroom out of your hands just as you were about to pop it in your mouth.
A scowl immediately replaced the once blissful expression on your face at the idea of digesting a new kind of fungus. "Taiju, we've been over this! I'll be fine! I just want to see how strong the effects of the poison are before our dear scientist administers an antidote!"
Senku rolled his eyes from behind his monocle (of course he had a monocle), examining the piece of the suit he was developing for Byakuya in order to help him with swimming to pass the astronaut qualification exam. "As if I would give you the antidote, apothecary."
"You always do," you sang, snatching the mushroom from off the ground again and putting it in your mouth before Taiju could stop you. Unlike either of them, you were a perfect balance of physical and mental strength; your reflexes outmatched both of Senku's and Taiju's combined. "Don't worry! I swear to you that I'll always come back alive!" You shouted through a mouth full of mushroom.
"No!" Taiju lunged forward, albeit quite dramatically, tackling you and making you both fall to the floor of Senku's bedroom slash lab. He wrapped his arms around your stomach, trying to squeeze it to make you cough out the mushroom.
But it was too late. You had already swallowed.
You swiftly elbowed Taiju in the stomach, trying to get him to let go, but he didn't even wince. Stupid meat shield.
"How are you feeling, apothecary?" Senku asked monotonously, not even bothering to turn around to make sure that you were okay. However, his hand was already reaching for the antidote that you made before you decided to eat the mushroom.
"Vision is getting blurry," you noted, grinning. "There's also a ringing in my ears, and I'm losing feeling in my fingertips." After a pause, flexing your numbing fingers, you made your conclusion. "I'm about to lose consciousness in less than twenty seconds. Please administer the antidote."
With that, you grew limp in Taiju's hold, and Taiju immediately let you go to make you lay down flat on the floor, brow creased in worry. You had done this a dozen times in front of the boy, leaving him trained in handling it, but he never really stopped worrying for you. It was stupidly sweet, you couldn't lie.
"Senku, you heard them! Give the cure!"
"Shut up, you big oaf, I'm doing it," Senku sighed, standing up and walking over to your body, kneeling over you and forcing the liquid into your mouth. He put down the bottle to massage your throat, trying to make you swallow. His other hand was on your wrist, his pointer and middle finger pressed on your pulse point to track your heartbeat.
He felt your throat move reflexively beneath his hand. He couldn't help the small feeling of relief that let made his shoulders sag almost imperceptibly.
"Are they okay?!" Taiju asked, looking over Senku's shoulder.
"Pulse is stabilizing," Senku muttered, more to himself than to the boy hovering behind him. "Breathing is evening out as well. They'll be fine; they'll wake up in a few hours or so."
Taiju let out a big sigh of relief as he leaned backward, sitting down heavily on the ground as if he was the one who had administered the cure. "Thank the gods they're gonna be okay! I should put them on the bed so they'll be comfortable when they wake up!"
He immediately reached forward, aiming to do just as he suggested, but Senku stopped him. "Just leave them there, you big oaf. If they wanted to be on the bed, they would have sat on the bed before they drank the poison in the first place."
Taiju hesitated, tilting his head in conflict as he battled between his thoughts and the suggestions of the smartest person he knows â well, now one of the smartest people he knows. "Are you sure that's fine?"
Senku sat back down on his desk chair, clicking through various websites displaying graphs that made Taiju's head hurt just thinking about looking at them. "They'll be fine there. Just go back to molding the plating for the suit. I still have to work out new simulations."
"Alright, if you say so!" The strong boy spared you one last glance before grabbing the aluminum sheet that he had before you had passed out, deciding to just work near you in case you wanted company when you woke up.
Senku mentally scoffed. Stupid oaf.
He let you stay unconscious on the floor of his bedroom, knowing that you preferred the feeling of the cool wood beneath your body whenever you were passed out because of a new poison.
Not that he left you there for that reason. Totally not.
âââââ
High school arrived faster than anyone had anticipated â except for Senku, obviously. The demon probably counted down the seconds from the end of their middle school to their first day in high school.
Luckily, the three of you had gone to the same high school, which was the sister school of your middle school. During your first year, you had met Yuzuriha, a sweet girl who was insanely good at arts and crafts. Taiju had been the one to introduce her to the group, and she quickly became part of your odd little circle of individuals. Along the way, you had noticed that Taiju had developed feelings for her, and Yuzuriha felt the same.
Now, it was only a matter of when either of them would cross the line.
Other than that, you were still close friends with Taiju, Senku, and now Yuzuriha. Growing up into a taller, smarter version of yourself did nothing to pacify your obsession with poison. All it did was make you bolder, and Senku's hair would have turned white a long time ago because of you if it weren't for the fact that his hair was⊠you know⊠genetically white already.
Due to your insanity and Senku's aloofness, most people kept their distance from your group. Although it made you seem like a bunch of nerds and weirdos (which, let's be honest, you were), at least you weren't tortured with being approached every day by new people hoping to be friends with you.
You already had your circle of friends, and that's enough. It took you a long time to even warm up to Yuzuriha, and you were still in the process of doing so. The thought of adding someone else to your group sent shivers down your spine.
You were with Senku in the lab, as usual. Although it was technically club time, Senku simply worked on his own thing despite being the head of the science club, leaving the rest of the members with basically free time on their hands.
He was muttering to himself about something as he peered into the microscope, while you were doing the same on another table, but you were currently making an ointment for the rash that appeared on your back a few days ago as a side effect from another mushroom you decided to eat. Your antidote had done well in keeping your heart from stopping, but it left the non-lethal side effects for you to deal with separately. So fun.
Taiju barged in, slamming the door open as he announced, "Senku! I will confess to Yuzuriha today!"
You looked up from your work and grinned at him. "Finally. Don't mess it up."
Senku, on the other hand, look at him as he replied, "Great, do you want this potion I made? It makes you irresistible, and it boosts your confidence level by two billion percent." He grabbed a beaker filled with a strange fluid and held it out for the boy to take.
You watched Taiju consider it for a moment, before he cemented his resolve and shook his head with a determined frown creasing his eyebrows. "Thank you for the offer, Senku, but I won't need it today! It's either she likes me back or she doesn't â whatever comes next should be up to her and how she truly feels!"
"Bravo," you nodded in approval, giving him a small round of applause for his awareness. "Good luck, Taiju."
He smiled at you. "Thank you!"
With that, he left the lab.
"Yo, Senku, does that potion actually work?" One of the club members asked.
An evil grin spread on Senku's face as he poured the liquid out into the drain. "No, this is petroleum."
You perked up. "Do you still â"
"No, I'm not giving you any of that," Senku interrupted you, giving you a scolding glare. "One of these days, your organs will stop from the amount of stress you put them under."
Huffing, you deflated into your chair and rolled your eyes. "Boo. No fun."
You soon engrossed yourself in your work, while Senku decided to take a little break by the window, sipping on his drink while he watched his friend confess to his crush.
Then the flash of green light came from the distance.
He turned to you to warn you, to make sure you would be safe.
You looking back at him in confusion was the last thing he saw before the stone swallowed him whole.
âââââ
The people surrounding the bonfire were silent. The only sound heard was the crickets and the crackle of the burning wood.
"So that's what happened to you when the petrification happened," Gen hummed softly. For once, there was no tint of mischief or manipulation on his face; his expression was simply neutral, neutral in a way that only a person who knew how it felt to turn to stone could have.
Senku scoffed out a laugh, but it wasn't humorous. It did nothing to alleviate the tension that lingered in his frame ever since he started his storytelling. He couldn't believe that he actually let himself be convinced to tell your story, like you were some kind of legend that could only live through memory.
"Senku," Kohaku started. Her voice was unnaturally soft, with a feeling akin to pity. Senku didn't like it. "If you were able to develop the revival fluid, then why haven't you revived them yet?"
"You think I wouldn't have done that already if I could, lioness?" Senku said, voice void of emotion as he stared at the flame in front of him. "I haven't been able to find their statue. The change in terrain during the past thousands of years seemed to separate us far enough for them to go to a place that I can't reach yet, not with our current tools and situation."
"It would be good to have someone good at medicine with us," Chrome muttered, adjusting his headband. "Maybe they can make the all-cure drug faster than we did!"
Senku let out a chuckle. "Nah, they don't really dabble in pharmacy. They'd probably make some other kind of remedy, purely out of the plants that they could find."
The thought made Chrome's eyes sparkle. "So they're a scavenger too?! That's so cool!"
"I wish they were here so we could meet them," Suika said sadly, sniffling a little bit as she slowly recovered from the tears that she shed from Senku's stories. "They seemed like a good person."
"Yeah, they are."
Chrome stood up, grinning with a determination that only he could have. "Senku, I swear to you that we will do everything we can find them and revive them!"
Senku stared at him. His words sparked a memory.
"I swear that I'll always come back alive!"
The scientist couldn't help but throw his head back in laughter. "If you want that to happen, Chrome, then you better work two billion percent harder tomorrow so we can make the phone!"
Ginro groaned dramatically, flopping on the ground. "Look what you did, Chrome! Now we're subjected to more labor because of you!"
"We have to do whatever Senku wants either way, since he's the village chief," Kinro reminded his brother. "Rules are rules."
While the rest of the circle conversed with each other, Senku slipped away from the gathering as he made his way to the observatory. The turmoil of the entire exchange made the exhaustion sit heavier on his bones, and he needed an ample amount of sleep for his brain to function to its highest potential tomorrow as they continue the reinvention of the phone.
As he laid back with the blanket pulled over his chest, he stared out at the open sky, watching the stars glint in the black night.
He was participating in this war against Tsukasa for multiple reasons; ownership over the Cave of Miracles, diplomacy, resources, manpower⊠the list goes on. The whole village knew this, which is why they were all willing to help him.
However, there was one more reason that he decided to keep to himself. After endless calculation and prediction based on how much the land has developed during the petrification, where he was originally, where he found Taiju and Yuzuriha, and where their school once was, Senku was over eighty percent certain that your statue was hidden somewhere deep in Tsukasa's territory. If he wanted to find you, scanning that whole area would be the best place to start.
"I swear that I will find you," Senku whispered to the stars, as if they could somehow convey his message to wherever you were hidden. "No matter what it takes. So hold on for a little bit longer for me, apothecary."
He closed his eyes and let himself sleep. That night, he dreamed of your eyes, and how much he yearned to see them open once more, free of stone.
notes: i wrote this in a lot of intervals, which is why it might seem inconsistent at some point. get me someone who yearns like senku. prequel to this, so if you haven't read it, give it a shot! hope this was worth the wait, thank you to all those who showed love for this little idea of mine <3
starred by Ishigami Senku (Dr. Stone) x Reader || Genre: Fluff? idk || Length: <500 words || Rating: General || tags: unrequited love, friends, pre-petrification, highschool
Summary: You are simply attracted to Senku.
see more of it: unbelievable
a/n. dr. stone is back!!!!!!! time to appreciate my radish guy
_260412_
You have always find that Senku is attractive, look-wise. He might be weak and not as strong as his best friend, Taiju, but his brain was on another level. Nothings attracted you more than a smart brain and a man who knows what he wants.
You didn't think someone would think as you do. He's not even that famous around school. A total science geek who rather spend hours in lab or in his house to do his research on how to make a rocket. It's far from the ideal student idolized by the girls.
At one point, you become grateful that he thought of you as a friend. It started from Taiju who was close with Yuzuriha. As Yuzuriha's best friend, you were introduced to Taiju and Senku. During that introduction, you immediately find yourself attracted to him.
Since then, you hang out with Senku a lot. Although sometimes, you suffered helping him in experimenting. You even started to wonder if his dad is rich because of these weird machines laying around his house.
How can someone afford that?
Also, he would spend hours try to explain about the experience that he did. Taiju would die of boredom and confusion with those scientifical explanation. While you and Yuzuriha tried your best stay for hours listening to him.
Yes, it was stressful. But you love to see him so passionate with things that he loves. Slowly, you've realized that your attraction towards his looks slowly become attraction to what he actually is.
He didn't seem like he cared, but he cared and understand his friends well with his own way. He trusted his friends' capability although he seemed egoistical and only 'using' them for his own goals. Either you were blinded by your own feelings or you're way too naive, you slowly falling in love with him.
Have you ever think about confessing your feelings? Several times. No, maybe thousands times. But you try to held on.
At this point, you don't even know if Senku ever realized your feelings. You never bother to tell him at all. Even if you tell him, you didn't even know if he could reciprocate it or not. It would be embarrassing if he didn't feel the same as you did.
So lets say, as much as you liked him, you rather it become your own little 'secret' from him. With how he focused toward his goals and dreams, you rather supported him with what you could do (at least for now.)
"Y/n! I need your help in this experiment!"
"Okay, coming right up. But I demand a treat as usual!"
"Check it on the fridge. I already buy it for you!"
Heyyyy could I pretty please make a request for nsfw Sai Nanami in this Sai Nanami-less time?? Specifically perhapes, just maybe, a reader who has a thing for hands??
Kicking my feet rn reading your stuff btw
đąđș â After finding out about how much you love his hands, Sai takes matters into his own !
âââ
Sai is handsome to say the least, blessed with great features and good hair. But his hands, oh, theyâre a different type of handsomeâ soft and slim, with a few veins that makes them look almost delicate, with these circumstances it was natural for you to develop a love to hold them, but that love was quick to turn into something more intimate, more deeply rooted and fuelled by your burning desire for him.
âfuckâ right there..!â you whimper, struggling to hold onto a thread of self control that quickly slips out of reach, its especially hard when Sai is showing no mercyâ if you want hands, youâre getting them.
heâs knelt infront of you as youâre perched on the edge of the bed, grasping onto the soft fabric that drapes onto your bed, in an effort to ground yourself from his fingers plunging in and out of you.
his eyes are glued to your pussy, the slick sounds of arousal and his name sliding off of your tongue like music to his ears, the sort of song you could listen on repeat and never get bored. He swallows hard, a deep blush creeping up his neck as he tries to keep his composure. âmm, you like that? right there?â
you nod frantically, hips twitching and thighs shaking as he doubles his efforts, fingers working to rub that perfect spot inside you that gets you arching off the bed. his thrusts are calculated and precise, making mental notes of exactly what makes you tick. âyouâre closeâ he doesnât necessarily ask, more of a statement as he feels you fluttering around his fingers. âyeah, oh shit, please donât stopââ
everything becomes a blur, the room, him and yourself as you reach your peak, your mind singularly focused on the sparks of pleasure travelling around your body, causing you cry his name in ecstasy.
as you come down from your high, his fingers still pump in and out of you, drawing out each ounce of pleasure whilst you tilt your head back, searching for a breath. His eyes meet yours, glimmering in the light âwas that good? you want more?â
he sure knows how to put those pretty hands to good use.
Ryusui is at the helm of the ship, keeping watch, when he spots something bobbing in the distance, a large, ornate, watertight chest. It's decorated with faded gold leaf and what looks like a logo, partially worn off. After spotting a giant chest at sea, his pirate fantasies start going crazy. He is 10 billion percent sure that he needs that treasure chest.
After some convincing, Senku finally agrees to pick it up (mostly scientific curiosity about how the chest has lasted that long + free materials).
Ginro and Kinro haul it aboard. Inside, nestled in now-soggy and moldy velvet, is a perfectly preserved stone statue of y/n. Despite the fetid smell, the stone has unusual, pretty veins with rose quartz pink threading through the gray. Ryusui immediately calls it "gorgeous." Kohaku points out the necklace in the box, a platinum nameplate necklace, the letters mostly worn smooth, but y/n is still visible enough to make out.
Now the question is what to do with your statue.
Senku crouches beside the chest, tapping his chin. "We're heading to the Americas. English is the dominant language there. If we meet anyone, we need a translator. Let's do it."
Ryusui adds, "Also, look at that stone. Anyone that beautiful inside must be revived. For the sake of beauty!" He's already mentally spending the hypothetical gratitude you'll owe him.
But Gen holds up a hand.
"Hold on. Hold on." The mentalist steps forward, his expression serious. He circles the chest like he's examining a crime scene. "We're just going to revive anyone we find floating in a box?" He ticks off fingers.
Kohaku frowns. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying," Gen says slowly, "that we don't know who this person is. What if she was locked in that chest for a reason? What if she's dangerous? A criminal? A spy?" He looks at Senku. "You and I both know the Stone World brought out the worst in people. What if she's the reason that cruise ship went down?"
Ginro's grip on his staff tightens. "I didn't even think about thatâŠ"
"You never think," Kinro mutters, but his eyes haven't left the statue. He's studying your frozen face like he's trying to read your soul through the stone.
Gen states, "We have limited revival fluid, Senku-chan. Every drop is precious. Do you want to waste it now or revive her later when we have a surefire supply? Should we not save it?" He gestures at the chest. "What if she betrays us the second we land? What if she's working for someone else?"
Ryusui steps between them. "Then we'll handle it. I'm not afraid of a woman in a box."
"Enough." Senku's voice cuts through. He looks at the statue, then at Gen. "You have a point about the fluid. But we also have a point about the language barrier. So let's think logically."
Senku holds up one finger. "One. We revive her with minimal fluid, just enough to bring her back. We conserve the rest."
Two fingers. "Two. We keep her separated from critical supplies until we know her intentions. Kinro, you're on guard duty."
Kinro salutes.
Three fingers. "Three." Senku looks directly at Gen. "If she tries anything, you're the one who talks her down. That's why I keep you around, mentalist. Your job is to read people. So read her."
Gen exhales heavily, running a hand through his hair. "And if I'm right? If she's trouble?"
"Then we deal with it." Senku's smile is sharp. "We've taken down an empire. We can handle one girl from a cruise ship."
Ryusui claps his hands together. "Wonderful! Democracy is so efficient when I get what I want." He grins at the statue. "Don't worry, my beautiful treasure. You're about to meet your new captain."
Gen mutters under his breath, "I'm going to regret this. I'm 10 billion percent going to regret this."
After laying some cloth over your body, Senku uncorks a small vial, less than he'd use for a normal revival, just as promised. "Kohaku, stand ready. If she attacks, you know what to do."
Kohaku unsheathes her blade. "Finally. Something simple."
Senku drips the fluid onto your stone chest.
The cracks spread. Gray falls away. Color bleeds back into your skin.
Y/n cracks open, gasps, and immediately panics. You quickly stand upâthe cloth falling down, looking around for your phone, your ring light, your tripod.
In English: "Oh my God, did anyone get my gifts? I was at 400 GIFTS! WHERE TF AM I? ACTUALLY, WHO ARE YOU GUYS?"
After feeling a breeze on your body, you quickly look down. Your cheeks turn red as you try to bury yourself deeper in the box after realizing you just exposed yourself to a room full of strangers.
Ginro's face turns so red he looks like a tomato. Kohaku just sighs and hands you the blanket. Senku laughs and quickly explains the situation in the best english he can speak.
You are too numb to fully realize what's really happening. 'They can't know. Not yet. If they think I'm useless, they won't expect anything, and kill me, what do they mean the world turned into stone? How did I get here? Play dumb. Stay safe.' So after some thought, that's what you do⊠You play up the ditzy "TikTok influencer" persona at first. Hearing this news upsets you. What do you mean, your whole family and the life you knew is gone? You can't believe it, you need more evidence. Afraid for your safety⊠and your sanity, you complain about the lack of Wi-Fi, and flirt aimlessly with everyone. The crew automatically thinks you're a shallow individual.
"She's speaking English," Gen observes. "Anyone here speak English?"
Silence.
Then Ryusui clears his throat. "I know⊠some." He says it like he's admitting a weakness. "Business English. For trade. 'How much.' 'Good price.' 'You are beautiful, marry me.'"
Senku stares at him. "That last one isn't business English."
"It is in my business."
Kinro, who values discipline and hidden strength, notices something off. He sees Y/Nâs hands, rough, calloused, with small burn scars. He watches you closely with his eyes, sharp and calculating. He says nothing, however, but he stares.
Later that night, it hits you.
You're sitting on the deck, wrapped in a blanket Suika gave you. The stars are wrong. The air smells different⊠no salt spray mixed with sunscreen and diesel fumes from the cruise ship. Just⊠ocean. Primordial ocean.
Your family's faces flash through your mind. Your dad's food. Your mom is falling asleep during a movie on the couch, but swearing sheâs paying attention. Your older sister's text you never answered because you were livestreaming.
"Be right back, doing a stunt for gifts!"
That was the last thing you ever said to her.
Your breath feels heavy. Your chest heaves. You press your palms against your eyes, trying to hold back tears, but the tears come anyway, hot, silent, humiliating.
Ryusui, while doing his rounds on the ship, hears your quiet sniffles. He pauses mid-stride, his boot hovering over the deck. For a moment, he considers walking away, he's never been good at tears. They're not profitable. After a couple more sniffles, he realizes itâs a girl crying.. Something he canât resist. He then walks over
"You're crying," he says in English. The words are stiff, awkward, each syllable carefully placed like he's building a house of cards. His accent is thick. But he tried. He actually tried.
You flinch, scrambling to wipe your face. Ryusui is standing a few feet away, arms crossed, head tilted. He's not mocking you. He looks⊠curious. Like he's observing a rare ship.
"Go away," you mumble in English, then switch to Japanese. Or what you hope is Japanese. "Leave. Please."
His eyes widen. Surprise flickers across his face, genuine, unfiltered. "You⊠speak Japanese?" he asks slowly, in his native tongue. Then, with a crooked smile: "Very bad Japanese. But Japanese."
You shrug, pulling your knees to your chest. "I had a roommate in college. She was from Osaka. She said my Japanese sounded like a drunk toddler, butâŠ" You trail off. "I learned enough. For emergencies."
It's not the whole truth. The whole truth is that your roommate, Mika, was the first person who ever made you feel like you didn't have to perform. She taught you Japanese over tough homework assignments and crying sessions about student loans. She called you her "sister."
She was on that cruise with you, begging to hang out with you that night. But you didnât, you had to internet panhandle to pay for school.
Ryusui doesn't push. He just nods, then slowly moves closer, lowering himself onto the deck next to you. He sits close enough that his shoulder almost touches yours. His big goofy hat, with that ridiculous huge feather, casts a shadow over half his face, but underneath it, you can see the sharp line of his jaw, the slight furrow in his brow, the way his mouth presses into something that isn't quite a frown.
Underneath his big goofy hat, you see his not only his vulnerability but how HOT he is. It's hidden in the clench of his teeth, the way his hands rest on his knees like he's bracing for impact. He's not good at this, sitting still, being soft. But he's trying.
"I don't cry," he says, like he's confessing a flaw. "I get angry. I get greedy. I get obsessed. But cryingâŠ" He pauses, staring out at the black water. "I don't know how to do it."
"Lucky you."
"My brother," Ryusui says quietly. "He's still stone, I would assume. Somewhere. I don't know if he's alive. I don't know if I'll ever see him again."
You look at him. His profile is sharp in the moonlight, that nose, that chin, the way his blonde hair falls across his forehead. But his jaw is tight, muscles jumping beneath the skin. He's holding something back. You recognize the posture. You've worn it yourself a thousand times in dressing rooms before finals, in break rooms between dishwashing shifts, in your dorm after failing an exam.
"I miss him every day," he continues. "But I don't cry. Because crying doesn't bring him back. Action brings him back. Desire brings him back. I will find him. That's not hope. That's a business contract with the universe."
You wipe your nose with the back of your hand. "My family is in America. Or⊠they were. I don't even know if they're stillâ" You can't finish. The sentence crumbles in your throat. You press your lips together, hard, trying to hold the rest of yourself together.
Ryusui turns to face you fully. No grand gestures. No theatrical declarations. His eyes are warm. Like he's looking at something valuable and trying to protect it. You quickly look away, to awkward to stare into his eyes.
After a bit of silence. The waves lap against the hull.
Then Ryusui says, softly: "Ginro mentioned something. Earlier. When we pulled you out of the chest."
You look at him, confused.
"He saidâŠ" Ryusui pauses, like he's choosing his words carefully. "He said your hands were covered in scratches. And burns. Old ones. He thought it was strange, He said they didn't match your face."."
You instinctively tuck your hands under your thighs. But Ryusui reaches out, slowly, giving you time to pull away and gently takes your wrist. He turns your palm upward.
Ryusui takes your hands like they're rare artifacts. He turns them over slowly, examining every line, every scar, every callus.
You try to pull away. He doesn't let go.
"Tell me about this one." He traces a thin white line across your index finger.
You sigh. "A knife cut me while I was doing a cooking livestream, really deep cut but I kept smiling. The show must go on."
"This one?" A small round burn on your wrist.
"Tutoring. A kid's mom was a welder. She taught me in exchange for lessons. That's from a spark."
He looks up, surprised. "You can weld?"
"Badly. But I fixed my dorm table. Saved two hundred dollars."
"And this?" His thumb finds the longest scar, jagged, from your thumb to your wrist.
You go quiet.
"That one," you say slowly, "cost me a scholarship."
Ryusui waits.
"I played softball. Had a partial scholarship. Needed full tuition, so I picked up extra dishwashing shifts. One night, I was exhausted. A glass broke. My hand went into the sink." You flex your fingers. The scar pulls tight. "Couldn't play for six months. Lost the scholarship."
Trying to ease the tension after touching a sore spot Ryusui asks "And the locksmithing?"
You blink. "How did you"
"Your fingertips. They have calluses in strange places. Not just from strings or dishes."
You stare at him. He's more observant than you gave him credit for.
"My neighbor was a locksmith. An old man. He taught me in exchange for helping him clean his shop." You shrug. "I can pick most basic locks. Padlocks. Deadbolts. Some safes."
"Have you ever used this skill?" He said with a concerned look on his face.
"ONLY To break into my own apartment when I locked myself out." You almost smile. "Saved a hundred bucks."
Ryusui stares at you for a long moment. Then he lifts both your hands to his lips and kisses your knuckles one by one.
"You're not a treasure," he murmurs, soft breath against your skin. "You're an entire museum. Every scar is an exhibit of how you refused to break."
He looks up at you.
"When we get to America, I'm going to find you a cello. And a welding torch. And a lock to pick. And then I'm going to watch you do all of it."
"That's a weird date idea."
His face turns red. "WellâŠI'm a weird man." He grins. "Desire is weird. Get used to it."
You don't know what to say to that. So you say nothing. You just let him hold your hand while the ship rocks beneath you.
After a moment, Ryusui releases youâŠbut he doesn't move away. He turns to face you fully. No grand gestures. No theatrical declarations. This time, you look into his eyes, and they are warm. Like he's found something valuable and is trying to protect it, his treasure.
"You want to know what I see when I look at you?"
"A translator?"
He laughs, a real one. Quieter, rougher than his usual laughter. "No. I see someone who fought. And some who refuse to lose."
You blink.
"Your necklace." He nods toward the platinum nameplate still around your neck, the letters worn but legible. "Y/N. thats a beautiful name. And the way you stand. Shoulders back, chin up. Even when you're pretending to be dumb, you stand like someone great." He tilts his head. "I know great. I am great."
He takes your hand again, the same one, the scarred one, and holds it between both of his. His palms are warm, calloused from ropes and sails. Not soft like a rich man's hands should be. He works. He sails. He builds. The contrast makes something in your chest tighten.
"Here's my offer," he says. "You help us get to America. You translate. You use that pretty little genius brain of yours. And when we get there, I will help you find them."
"You can't promise that."
"I'm Ryusui Nanami." He grins, and it's cocky, but underneath it is something softer, something almost tender. "I don't make promises I can't keep. It's bad for business."
Your lip trembles. "What if they're gone? What if theyâ"
"Then we build a memorial," he says simply. "And you cry until you can't cry anymore. And then you keep going. Because that's what people who refuse to lose do."
You stare at him for a long moment. The moonlight catches the gold threading in his coat. His hat casts that ridiculous shadow. He looks like a pirate king and a lost boy all at once.
Slowly, you squeeze his hand back.
"I'll help you," you say. "But not because of the treasure. Because you're the first person here who looked at me like I wasn't crazy."
Ryusui's expression softens, rare, precious, like finding gold in a river. Like watching a storm cloud part for one perfect ray of sun.
"Then we have a deal." He pulls you to your feet, and for a second, you're closer than you expected, close enough to see the flecks of amber in his eyes, close enough to smell salt.
He doesn't step back.
"But fair warning, y/n," he says, voice low. "I'm going to fall in love with you. It's already happening. I can feel it in my wallet."
"That doesn't make any sense."
"Desire never does."
He walks you back to the sleeping area, matching his stride to yours. At the entrance, he pauses. The lantern light catches the side of his face, softening the sharp angles.
"For what it's worth," he says quietly, "I'm sorry. About your family. About everything you lost." He hesitates, then adds: "And when you're ready to stop pretending to be dumb? I'll be here. I like the smart version better anyway."
Then he's gone, boots echoing on the wood, coat billowing behind him, that ridiculous hat bobbing as he disappears around the corner.
You're left standing there, tears still drying on your face, holding the blanket Suika gave you.
You look down at your hands. The scars. The calluses. The evidence of every fight you've ever fought.
And for the first time, you don't hide them.
You feel something you haven't felt since before the stone.
Hope.
After that night, Ryusui is direct in his pursuit of you.
You, however, are terrible at being pursued.
Not because you don't notice him. You notice him constantly. The way his hair catches the sunlight. The way his laugh echoes across the deck. The way his hands, those warm, calloused, surprisingly gentle hands, move when he talks.
He's too cute. It's infuriating. And you have a problem: you don't know how to act around guys you actually like. Flirting with strangers on TikTok? Easy. Performing for a crowd of pageant judges? Second nature. But a real, actual, attentive man who looks at you like you're made of gold? You short-circuit.
So you do what you always do when you're overwhelmed. You avoid. When he offers you the finest clothes, the best food, the most comfortable hammock, you mumble "thanks" and disappear below deck. When he finds you to teach you how to sail, you let him hold your hands, mostly because you've gone temporarily brain-dead from the contact, but you don't meet his eyes. You stare at the horizon. You stare at the ropes. You stare anywhere but his stupid, handsome, perfect face.
(No learning ever really gets done. You're too busy trying to remember how to breathe.)
He says things like, "Your desire for a better life is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," and your cheeks burn so hot you're surprised the ship doesn't catch fire. He drops silly pick-up linesâ"Are you a treasure chest? Because I want to open you"â and you have to physically turn away so he doesn't see you smile.
You want to flirt back. You do. The words are right there on the tip of your tongue.
But every time you open your mouth, your brain supplies: 'He's too pretty. He's too pretty. He's TOO PRETTY.' And then you say something like, "The wind is very⊠windy today," and flee.
Ryusui, to his credit, doesn't give up. He just grins, watches you run, and murmurs to himself: "So cute~ She'll crack eventually. Desire always wins."
After three days of this Kohaku finds him at the helm, staring in the direction you disappeared.
"She's avoiding you," Kohaku observes.
"I know."
"Does that bother you?"
Ryusui's smile is insufferably pleased.
"No. Because she's not avoiding me because she hates me." He tilts his head. "She's avoiding me because she likes me. Her ears turn red every time I get close. Her breathing changes. She forgets words."
He laughs, soft, almost tender.
"She's amazing, but she turns into a stuttering mess when I hold her hand."
He looks at Kohaku, eyes bright.
"That's the most valuable treasure of all. Someone brilliant everywhere except when she's near me."
Kohaku stares at him.
"You're weird."
"I'm in love," he corrects. "There's a difference."
Later, that day, the sky turns black.
It happens fast, faster than anyone expects. One moment, the Perseus is sailing under clear blue skies. Next, the horizon is swallowed by a wall of grey.
"Storm!" Chrome shouts, pointing. "Big one! Really big one! Ten billion percent big! THIS IS SOOO BAD"
"Everyone to positions!" Ryusui's voice cuts through the chaos. He's at the helm, both hands gripping the wheel, his ridiculous hat somehow still on his head. "Senku, I need a heading!"
Senku is already calculating, eyes darting between the sky and the waves. But something's wrong. His jaw tightens.
"The stars are obscured," he mutters. "I can't get a fixed position. The storm threw off our last heading. Give me a second"
The first wave hits. Water crashes over the deck. Kohaku grabs a rope to keep from sliding. Suika screams. Chrome slips and slides into Kinro, who doesn't even flinch, just plants his feet and holds steady. A piece of driftwood ends up hitting Senku, knocking him unconscious and unable to help like usual.
Ryusui wrestles the wheel, but without clear coordinates, he's sailing blind. His knuckles are white. "Someone give me something to work with!" he shouts. "North, south, anything!"
Y/N Steps Up, and then you move. You've been quiet for the last three days. Playing dumb to the rest of the crew and always too nervous around Ryusui to not act dumb. The crew has mostly written you off as harmless but useless.
But now, you step forward.
You look at the sky, really look at it. The clouds are thick, but there's a break in the west. A sliver of stars. A sliver of moon.
Your brain, trained by years of late-night studying, of Marine Biology labs, of navigation courses you took for fun because you were bored, kicks into gear. You calculate.
"Thirty-seven degrees north by northwest!" you shout, in English, fast and fluent, the words tumbling out like they've been waiting. "Adjust heading to two-seven-zero! There's a break in the reef at zero-eight-zero degrees! If we hit it now, we can ride the current through!"
Ryusui stares at you.
"What?"
You switch to Japanese, still broken, but faster now, more confident. "North-northwest! Thirty-seven degrees! Turn the ship! NOW!"
He doesn't hesitate. He spins the wheel.
The Perseus groans, tilts, and then, miraculously, slides into a pocket of calmer water. The waves are still high, but the ship isn't taking direct hits anymore. You're riding the current, just like you said.
Senku, still half unconscious, looks at his sextant. Then at you. Then back at his sextant.
"She's right," he says quietly. "The coordinates are correct. How did youâ"
You're already moving again, crossing to the railing, squinting at the water. "The current is shifting! Another five degrees to port in thirty seconds!"
Ryusui adjusts. The ship responds.
For the next twenty minutes, you navigate. You call out headings in rapid English, then translate into broken Japanese. You calculate drift based on cloud movement, wave patterns, and the few stars you can see. You point out hazards before anyone else sees them.
By the time the storm passes, the Perseus is battered but intact.
And everyone is staring at you.
The Silence
The deck is soaked. The crew is exhausted. But no one moves.
They're all looking at you.
Chrome's mouth is hanging open. Kohaku has one eyebrow raised so high it's disappeared under her bangs. Ginro looks like he's seen a ghost. Suika is peeking out from behind a barrel with wide eyes.
Senku is the first to speak.
"You knew how to navigate." It's not a question.
You wipe water from your face. Your hands are shaking, from adrenaline, from fear, from the weight of the secret you've been carrying.
"Yes."
"In English."
"Yes."
"Using maritime terminology."
"âŠYes."
Senku crosses his arms. His expression is unreadable, but there's a faint flush creeping up his neck. "How long were you going to keep pretending?"
You look at your feet. Then, at your hands, the scarred, calloused, honest hands that Ryusui kissed that night on the deck.
"As long as I needed to," you admit. "I didn't know if I could trust you."
"And now?"
You meet his eyes. "Now I'm standing on a boat that didn't sink, surrounded by people who didn't let me drown. So⊠I guess I trust you."
Senku stares at you for a long moment. Then he snorts, but it's not mean. It's almost⊠fond.
"Hmph. Logical. You should have said so earlier."
Ryusui steps forward. His hat is crooked. His coat is soaked. But his eyes are blazing.
"No more games," he says. "Who are you? Really?"
You take a deep breath.
"My name is Y/N. I'm eighteen years old."
Someone whistles. Chrome, probably.
"I was a top 5 contender for Miss America. The pageant paid for my undergrad at Stanford. I double-majored in Linguistics and Marine Biology."
Senku's head snaps up. "Double major? At eighteen?"
"I graduated high school early. Started college at fourteen." You shrug like it's nothing. Like it isn't insane. "I was bored."
"BORED?!" Chrome shrieks. "You were BORED so you went to COLLEGE at FOURTEEN?!"
You ignore him.
"I was doing the TikTok live, begging for gifts as a social experiment. A performance art piece. I was trying to fund my Master's in Sociolinguistics."
"A master's degree," Senku says slowly. "At eighteen."
"I was supposed to start after the cruise."
"The cruise," Ryusui prompts. "Why were you on a cruise?"
You hold up your hands, the scarred ones.
"I worked four jobs. One of them was a Disney Princess stand-in on the cruise ship. That's why I was there when the petrification happened."
You tick them off on your fingers.
*"Princess stand-in. Dishwasher, back of house, 2 AM shifts. ESL tutor for recent immigrants. Freelance translator online."
Kohaku's expression shifts. She looks at you differently now, not with suspicion, but with something like respect.
"Four jobs," she repeats. "And school."
"And pageants."
"And a social experiment."
"And a locksmith apprenticeship," you add, because why not? The dam is broken. "And I learned to weld badly from a student's mom. And I used to play cello until I lost the scholarship because of this" You hold up the long scar on your palm. "âand I locked myself in that chest as a stunt. '100 hours in a chest for charity gifts.' The petrification happened mid-livestream. The chest was airtight. It floated free when the ship broke apart."*
Silence.
Absolute, complete silence.
Then Gen, who has been standing in the corner with his arms crossed, speaks.
"So let me get this straight." His voice is flat. "You're eighteen. You have two bachelor's degrees. You're working on a master's. You were a pageant queen. You worked four jobs. You can navigate by starlight. You can pick locks. You can weld. You play cello. And you've been pretending to be an idiot this whole time because you didn't trust us?"
You nod.
Gen stares at you for a long moment. Then he puts his face in his hands.
"I owe Senku ten bucks."
"You bet against me?!"
"I bet you were just a regular influencer!" Gen groans. "How was I supposed to know you were a secret genius?!"
Ryusui (Eyes Literally Turning into Dollar Signs). He walks toward you. Slowly. Deliberately. He stops inches from your face. You have to look up to meet his eyes. "You're not just beautiful," he says, his voice low. "You're a valuable asset. A scholar. A worker. A performer. A strategist. A genius."
He grins
"I'm not just asking you to marry me anymore."
He drops to one knee. Right there on the wet deck.
"I'm ORDERING you."
"You can't order someone to marry you," you say, but you're laughing.
"I'm Ryusui Nanami. I can order whatever I want."
"That's not how marriage works."
"Then we'll invent a new kind of marriage. One where I give you everything you've ever wanted, and you let me worship you for the rest of my life."
Kohaku sighs, annoyed at his antics
Ryusui ignores them. He's still on one knee, looking up at you like you're the sunrise.
"Say yes," he says. "Not because I'm ordering you. Because you want to."
You look down at him, this ridiculous, greedy, surprisingly soft man who kissed your scars and promised to find your family and taught you that desire isn't shameful.
"Ask me again when we get to know each other better," you say.
He grins. "Deal."
That night, the crew throws a small celebration. Because you survived the storm
Chrome won't stop asking you about marine biology. "Wait, there are FISH that GLOW?!"
Suika curls up next to you and falls asleep with her head in your lap.
Gen brings you a cup of something warm and says, "I misjudged you. I'm sorry."
And Ryusui?
Ryusui sits across from you the whole night, watching you with an expression you can't quite name. It's not just greed anymore. It's not just desire.
It's something softer. Something he's not ready to say out loud.
But his eyes say it anyway.
'You're not a treasure I want to own.'
'You're a treasure I want to protect.'
And for the first time in a long time, you think maybe just maybe you've found a place where you don't have to pretend.
Later that night, there's a knock on your cabin door.
"It's me," Ryusui says through the wood. "Don't run. I know you want to."
You consider pretending to be asleep. But your heart is already pounding, and your feet are already moving, and before you know it, you've opened the door.
He's standing there in his coat, his hat, his ridiculous confidence. But his eyes are soft.
"Come with me," he says. It's not a request.
He doesn't ask. He shows.
He leads you through the ship, past the sleeping crew, past the storage holds, past everything familiar. He takes you to his private quarters, the cabin you've never been inside, the one everyone whispers about.
"Silk sheets," Chrome had said once, awe in his voice. "He has actual silk sheets."
You're about to find out if that's true.
Ryusui opens the door.
The cabin is smaller than you expected, but richer. Lantern light flickers off polished wood. Maps cover every surface, pinned to the walls, spread across the desk, rolled up in barrels. The world, drawn by hand, waiting to be claimed.
And yes. Silk sheets. Deep red, almost burgundy, pooled on a bed that looks too soft for a ship.
"You actually have silk sheets," you say.
"I have standards," Ryusui replies with a deep voice.
He moves to the desk, gesturing for you to follow. Maps are spread out, detailed, obsessive, beautiful. He traces a line across the Atlantic with his finger.
"I'm going to rebuild the world's economy," he says. Not bragging. Just stating facts. "Currency. Trade. Desire as a driving force. I need a partner who understands value."
He looks at you.
"Not just of gold. But of people."
His hand drops to the map, palm flat.
"You worked four jobs for a dream. You lost a scholarship and found another path.hell you navigated a storm just today,â He shakes his head. "That's not luck. That's not even talent. That's refusing to lose."
He steps closer.
"That's the most valuable thing I've ever seen."
You should say something clever. Something flirty. Something that hides how terrified you are.
But you're tired of hiding.
"I'm scared," you admit. Your voice cracks. "I'm so scared, Ryusui."
"Of what?"
"Of being poor again." The words tumble out, hot, messy, honest. "Of going back to that life. The 2 AM dishwashing shifts. The ramen for every meal. The feeling of my card getting declined at the grocery store. I built that TikTok persona because I couldn't afford to be me. The real me was broke and tired and terrified."
Your eyes burn.
"The TikTok begging? That wasn't a social experiment. That was survival. I needed people to give me money because I didn't have any other way to pay for my master's. And I was ashamed. So I made it a performance. I made it a joke. I made myself into a character so I wouldn't have to admit that I was drowning."
Ryusui doesn't interrupt. He just listens.
"And now I'm here," you continue. "In a stone world. With nothing. Again. And I can't, I can't do it again. I can't start over from nothing. I can'tâ"
His hands cup your face.
Warm. Calloused. Gentle.
"You never have to beg again."
His thumbs wipe away tears you didn't know were falling.
"I will give you everything. Clothes. Food. Shelter. Safety. A future."
He tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes.
"But I need you to want it."
His voice drops.
"Want me."
You stare at him. This ridiculous, greedy, impossible man who kissed your scars and promised to find your family and looked at you like you were made of gold when you were at your lowest.
You kiss him first.
Lantern light flickers against the wooden walls, casting shadows across the maps and the silk sheets. The ship rocks gently, a soft, rhythmic motion that feels less like sailing and more like breathing.
The world outside doesn't exist. There is no stone. No petrification. No storm.
There is only him. And you. And the heat is building between you.
Ryusui continues the kiss, not softly but hungry.
Ryusui has been patient.
Too patient.
Days of avoiding, blushing, running away. But now you're here, in his quarters, and you kissed him first.
The restraint snaps.
He's a hedonist. A man of appetite. Before the petrification, he wanted for everything and got everything. Endless beautiful woman, wealth, whatever he desired.
But it's been years since anyone touched him. Years of stone. Years of rebuilding. Years of wanting and waiting and needing.
And now you're here. In his quarters. Beneath him. And you kissed him first.
He kisses you back like you're water and he's been dying of thirst. His hands are everywhere, your waist, your back, your hair. He walks you backward until your legs hit the edge of the bed.
"Finally," he murmurs against your lips. "I was starting to think you'd never stop running."
"I'm done running," you breathe.
"Good." He pulls back just enough to look at you. His eyes are dark, and hungry. "Because I'm done waiting."
He undresses you slowly. Too slow.
"You have no idea," he mutters against your neck, "how long I've wanted this."
"It's been a few daysâ"
"Years." His teeth graze your pulse point. "I've been stone for years. Before that, I was too busy building an empire toâŠ" He trails off, hands fumbling with the clasp of your skirt. "I haven't touched anyone in so long I forgot what skin felt like."
Your heart clenches.
"Ryusuiâ"
"And then you fell out of that chest." and then he pushes you down, "And you were beautiful. And smart. And pretending to be dumb so badly it was almost cute."
His lips find your collarbone.
"And I thought, 'There she is. The treasure I didn't know I was hunting for.'"
You want to say something clever. But his mouth is moving lower, and your brain is short-circuiting.
His fingers find the hem of your shirt. He lifts it, inch by inch, and presses a kiss to every new inch of skin he reveals.
"Shoulders," he murmurs against your collarbone. "Elegant."
The shirt falls to the floor.
He traces your collarbone with his lips. "Collarbone. Exquisite."
Your breath hitches.
His hands find your waist, sliding under the fabric of your skirt. "Waist. Perfect."
"You are a treasure. The most valuable one I've ever found. And I'm going to catalog every inch of you."
He does.
Every button. Every piece of fabric that falls away, he replaces with his mouth. His hands. His words.
"Ribs. Picturesque."
"Hips. Lovely"
By the time you're both naked, you're trembling. Not from cold. From want.
He knows what he's doing.
That becomes obvious very quickly.
Every touch is deliberate. Every kiss is placed exactly where it will make you gasp. His fingers find spots you didn't know existed, behind your ear, the small of your back, the inside of your wrist.
"You're trembling," he observes. Not mocking. Curious.
You look up at him with half-lidded eyes and say, in English:
"Is that all you've got, Captain?"
His eyes flash.
"Oh," he says, low and dangerous. "You're going to regret that."
"Am I?"
"Ten billion percent."
He flips you over.
His red scarf is draped over the bedpost. The same one he wears every day. The one that's become his signature.
He reaches for it.
"May I?" he asks, holding it up.
You know what he's asking. Your heart pounds.
"I'mâI haven'tâ" You swallow. "I'm not⊠experienced."
He pulls back, just enough to look at your face.
"How inexperienced?"
Your cheeks burn. "I've done some things. But not⊠not this. Not with someone whoâŠ"
"Who what?"
"Who knows what they're doing."
His expression softens. Then sharpens into something hungry.
"Good," he says.
"Good?!"
"Yes. Because now I get to teach you." He kisses the corner of your mouth. "I get to be the one who shows you what your body can do. I get to learn every sound you make. I get to be the standard every other man fails to meet."
He grins, greedy, delighted.
"By the time I'm done with you, you won't remember your own name. You won't remember there was a world before this. You'll only remember me."
Your breath catches.
"That's⊠very confident."
"I'm Ryusui Nanami. Confidence is my brand." He lowers you onto the silk sheets. "Now. Let's begin."
He kisses your forehead, gently.
He doesn't rush.
He hovers over you, his body warm against yours, and whispers:
"I'll give you pleasure. You give me your sounds. Fair trade."
He takes his time learning your body, every gasp, every arch, every spot that makes you dig your nails into his shoulders. He builds you up slowly, then pulls back. Up again. Higher. Further. Then back.
By the time he finally positions himself above you, you're a mess. Sweating. Panting. Desperate.
"Please," you whimper.
"Please what?"
"Please justâI needâ"
"Tell me." His voice is soft but confident. "I need to hear you say it."
"I need you inside me. Please. Ryusui. Please."
Every gasp. Every moan. Every broken cry of his name, he takes them all, hoards them like gold.
"More," he demands. "I want more."
You give him everything. While desperately grinding against his bulge.
He gives in and moves against you, slow, then fast, then slow again, learning your body like a map, like one of the charts spread across his desk. He finds every spot that makes you arch, every angle that makes you moan, every rhythm that makes you fall apart.
And when you're close, when you're right there, he stops.
"Say what you want," he says.
"What?"
"Say it. In English. In Japanese. I don't care. But I need to hear you say it."
Your face burns. But you're done hiding.
"I want you," you say in English. "I want you to make me come. I want you toâ"
You switch to Japanese, broken but determined.
"I want you. Don't stop. Please."
Ryusui's control snaps.
"Good girl," he groans. "That's my treasure."
And then he doesn't stop.
Neither do you.
He pushes it in.
And you feel it.
"HAAH! S'too biiiiiig," you whine, but your body can't stop. Can't stop clenching around him, can't stop pulling him deeper, can't stop the way your hips roll up to meet his.
He groans, low, guttural.
"You feelâŠ" He can't finish the sentence. His forehead drops to yours. "You feel like you were made for me."
The juices saturating between you grant enough momentum to finally get a good, smooth rhythm going. He moves inside you like he's sailing, confident, powerful, inevitable.
"Fuckâthat's it," he encourages you. "Take it like it's yours, treasure."
The way you cream harder every time he calls you treasure doesn't go unnoticed.
"Oh?" His grin is sharp. "You like me talking sweet to the pussy? Or do you just like being my filthy little treasure slut, hm?"
Gritting your teeth, you grab onto Ryusui's shoulders like reins, you're going to kill him, pulling him closer to you.
âY-yes captainâ you mutter out
You can barely keep your head from up. Your eyes keep rolling back. Every thrust punches a sound out of you that you didn't know you could make.
He Takes Over
Something shifts in his expression. The playfulness drains away, replaced by something darker. Hungrier.
"Keep calling me captain?" He pulls out just for a moment, just long enough to flip you onto your stomach.
He pushes back in from behind, and the angle is everything. You cry out, face buried in the soft silk sheets, fingers scrambling for something to grab onto.
"I said I was going to conquer you," he growls in your ear, one hand braced on the small of your back, the other fisting in your hair. "I meant it. I'm going to ruin you for anyone else. I'm going to fuck you until the only name you remember is mine."
Your brow furrows from the noise Ryusui makes you're not sure if he just laughed or snarled. But it's the only warning you get.
He spreads his knees wider, planting his feet firmly on the bed as he bullies his cock up into you like he's claiming territory.
All you can do is go slack, falling forward onto the pillows. His grip bruises your hips, not allowing you to run from the way his blunt cockhead plows into your womb like a battering ram.
The bed beneath you groans. The frame creaks under the strain. The wood and silk protest like the entire thing might fall apart at any moment.
"RyusuiâI can'tâI'm gonnaâ"
"You can," he says. "And you will. And then you're going to do it again. And again. Until I say you're done."
You come so hard you forget your name.
For a solid five seconds, you have no idea who you are, where you are, or what year it is. There is only pleasure, white-hot, overwhelming, impossible.
Ryusui follows you over the edge, burying himself deep, his groan vibrating through your entire body.
He collapses beside you, pulling you into his chest, both of you gasping for air.
For a long moment, neither of you speaks.
Then:
"What's your name?" he asks.
You blink. "âŠWhat?"
"Your name. What is it?"
You open your mouth. Close it.
Nothing comes out.
Ryusui grins, wide, satisfied, insufferable.
"I win."
"You're insufferable."
"I'm effective." He kisses your forehead. "Now. Grapes?"
He feeds you grape, and strokes your hair while you recover. His touch is gentle now, almost reverent, a stark contrast to the man who just fucked you into oblivion.
"You're my greatest treasure now," he says quietly.
"Does that mean you'll sell me?" you say, half-joking
He looks horrified.
"Never."
His hand stills.
"I don't trade what I love."
The word hangs in the air. Love.
You don't say it back. Not yet. But you curl into his chest, and he wraps his arms around you, and the ship rocks gently beneath you both.
"Ryusui?"
"Hm?"
You stay silent
He presses a kiss to the top of your head.
"Tomorrow, I'll remind you. Tonight, just rest. You're mine now. And I take care of what's mine."
You fall asleep like that, in his arms, in his bed, under silk sheets in the middle of the ocean.
And for the first time in years, you don't dream about drowning.
Thatâs the question youâd been mulling over recently. Things were finally somewhat peaceful within the Kingdom of scienceâ no figuring out how to make revival fluid, no wars against Tsukasas army and nothing to do but work towards building the ship. So now you had nothing but time to think about more trivial things.Â
Things like your long term relationship with a certain scientist.Â
You usually had the answers to many questions, being smarter than most did that, and if you didnât have the answer to one youâd just ask your slightly smarter boyfriend. However, if you were to ask him this oneâ he probably wouldnât know the answer to it either.
Still, you couldnât let this one go since it was driving you crazy.
Dating.
What does it even mean?
You and Senku had decided to date back at the end of middle school. No dramatic confession, no fireworksâjust a mutual, quiet understanding. You liked him. He liked you. Why complicate it?
And honestly⊠nothing has changed since then.
You still walk everywhere together. Still sleep beside each other, backs nearly touching for warmth. Still hugâlong, comfy hugs that make the world feel steady again. Sometimes you hold hands, fingers loosely linked like itâs no big deal.
Itâs comfortable.
Itâs safe.
Itâs⊠childish.
Your jaw tightens. Your thoughts are so damn childish, what are you twelve?
God, get it together, you scold yourself internally. Youâre thinking about stupid shit.
But now that youâre not constantly worrying about being murdered, or petrified, or starving, your brain has space for these thoughts. Too much space.
You still hadnât kissed. Or said âI love youâ even when there were moments where you could tell the both of you wanted to say it to one another. Or done anything a normal couple at your age would do.
You sigh quietly, staring at the empty table in front of you, lost in thought.
ââŠKnock knock, anyone there?â
Genâs voice cuts through the air, light but teasing.
You donât react.
He blinks. âWow. Sheâs gone gone.â
Still nothing.
A moment later, a finger pokes your cheek.
âOi,â Senku says. âStop spacing out.â
You jolt like youâve been struck by lightning. âWâWHATâ?!â
The sudden movement makes you knock your plate over, and your frantic scrambling draws laughter from almost everyone nearby.
âAdorable,â Gen snickers.
Your face burns. âI wasnât spacing out!â
Senku raises an eyebrow. âYou totally were.â
Before you can retort back, Ryusui plops down across from you, resting his chin in his hand, eyes sharp with interest.
âSo,â he says casually, âitâs cute how you only stopped spacing when Senku called out to you! Speaking of you and Senku, howâs it going?â
Instant death. Shots were fired. He called you out.
How did he know you were JUST thinking about the sad state of your relationship?
You choke on air. âHâHUH?!â
Senku sighs. âWhy is that any of your business?â
Ryusui smirks. âBecause you two act like a married couple and a middle school couple at the same time. Fascinating contradiction.â
Gen hums. âNow that you mention it⊠you are oddly awkward sometimes.â
Your hands fidget in your lap. âWeâre not awkward.â
Ryusui tilts his head. âThen why do you act like strangers when romance comes up?â
Senku answers flatly, âIt doesnât matter.â
You nod quickly. âYeah. Isnât this how a normal couple acts?â
âOh, sweetheart,â he says, leaning closer. Then he lowers his voice and whispers in your ear, âI can tell the two of you havenât even kissed yet.â
Senku remains seated, arms crossed. âWhatâd you say to make her freak out?â
Ryusui crouches beside him. âI told her the same thing Iâm about to tell you.â
Senku glances over. âWhich is?â
âYou havenât kissed her.â
ââŠSo?â
Ryusuiâs jaw drops. âSo?!â
Senku shrugs. âItâll happen eventually.â
âEventually?!â Ryusui throws his arms into the air dramatically. âYouâve been dating for over three thousand seven hundred years! Man up and make a move while you finally have time!â
Senku clicks his tongue. ââŠI donât know how.â
Ryusui freezes. Then he puffs out his chest. âLucky for you, Iâm a relationship connoisseur. You may be a genius in science but Iâm a genius in dating!â
He proceeds to ramble about timing, confidence, instincts, and seizing moments when adrenaline is high and emotions are raw.
Senku listens. Annoyed, but interested (not that he would ever admit to it).
Then stands. âShut up.â
But the words Ryusui said stick.
Later that night, youâre sitting beside Senku againâthis time surrounded by paper, charcoal scribbles, and calculations.
Fuel logistics.
The ship needs enough power to cross long distances without overloading capacity. You both scribble numbers, muttering under your breath.
âIf we use oil exclusively, weâll exceed weight tolerance,â Senku mutters.
âYeah, thereâs the problem with the ships capacity,â you reply. âHmm⊠what if we stagger consumption?â
He pauses. âExplain.â
You lean forward, excitement bubbling. âIf we calculate fuel usage per nautical mile and store it in segmented containers, we can reduce excess storage by optimizing burn rates based on wind conditions.â
You scribble rapidly. âLookâif we assume an average wind assist of 15%, we can reduce fuel load byââ
âI got it!â you suddenly shout. âWe cap fuel at this amount, reserve emergency storage here, and rely on sail propulsion for the first leg!â
Senkuâs eyes light up. âThatâs genius, I really wanna kiss you right noowwâ!â He suddenly blurts out, slurring the ânowâ when he realises what he just said.
âSo kiss me,â you jokingly say, hanging the piece of paper on the open door of the lab. A few moments later, you realise that he didnât take your words as lightly as youâd expected. The scientist was walking closer to you by the second and for some reason you kept on backing away, until the two of you were now outside.
You couldnât say nor do anythingâ I mean who could at the sight of his beautifully flushed face glowing in the moonlight? So instead you lick your lips in anticipation, staring up at the silver moon reflected in his crimson eyes as he looks up at the sky in an attempt to keep his nerves at bay.
Then⊠he grabs you suddenly, exhilaration surging through himâ
âand kisses you.
Right on the lips.
Your brain explodes.
Itâs warm. Softer than you expected. His lips hesitate against yours, like heâs half-afraid you might pull away. You can feel his breath stutter, feel the faint pressure of his thumb tightening against your sleeve as if heâs grounding himself.
It lasts only a momentâbarely enough time to register that itâs realâ
Then Senku pulls back as if shocked by his own actions.
Your heart is pounding so loudly youâre sure he can hear it. Your face feels hot, your lips tingling where his were, and youâre staring at him with wide eyes, trying to process the fact that after everythingâ
It finally happened.
Senkuâs ears are bright red. His expression is caught somewhere between disbelief and panic. ââŠIââ
You laugh, breathless and a little shaky, the sound bubbling out of you before you can stop it. âTook you long enough!â
That makes him freeze and he thinks to himself. How can someone be so perfect?
Before he can overthink itâbefore he can retreat back into logic and reasonâyou grab the front of his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric, and pull him back down.
This time, you kiss him.
And you do it like youâve been holding this in for yearsâbecause you have.
His breath catches sharply, a soft sound against your mouth, and for a heartbeat heâs completely still. Then he melts into it, hands finding your waist, pulling you closer until your faces are pressed together, cheeks squishing slightly, awkward and perfect and real.
You tilt your head, instinct guiding you, and deepen the kiss. Your lips part just enough to catch his lower lip, gently tugging it between yours.
The kiss grows slower, warmer, unhurried.
Thereâs no rush. No panic.
Just closeness.
When you finally pull back, youâre both breathless, foreheads touching, noses brushing as you laugh softly, dazed smiles spreading across your faces.
Your lips tingle. Your chest feels too full. âI love you.â
âYâknow, I love you too. And Iâm 10 billion percent sure Iâll always feel that way!â He chuckles before giving you another peck on the lips.
And suddenly, you get it.
Dating isnât about labels. Or milestones. Or what you should have done by now.
Itâs this.
âïža/n
21/12/25
2000 words
@smiskisworld/-fischll/fischll
-TYSM FOR READING MY WORK AND GIVING ME REQUESTS!!
-this is written from a request I got, Iâve never written a Senku fluff before so I hope I did him justice!! ps: not proofread or anything yet so ignore the wording and lack of info Iâll proofread one dayđ„čđ
-sorry for the wait I promise Iâll get to the rest of my requests soon Iâm just busy writing my ryusui fic Iâm not even updating it Iâm just writing so much for it lol I do this for the love of the game
-13 year old me would be so proud of me for writing about my childhood crush like aww TYSM TO THE GOAT @anajellyc for requesting this!! Youâve been here from the start and I genuinely love how u motivate me to write ily twin
Something so trivial for Senku. Itâs just a stupid made up human holiday. There was scientifically no use for it. But you loved it.
YES,, it was a capitalism cash grab. A humiliation ritual at best. And seeing all the singles drag themselves to the stores the day after to grab what ever cheap candy they could get their hands on was pathetic. BUT,, love to you meant everything.
So Senku would make sure that THIS Valentineâs Day,, your first Valentines Day together would be perfect.
However for you it was not the best day. Your period, your dreaded monthly came to rain on your parade. And that wasnât even the HALF of it. Your favorite dress shrunk in the wash, you burnt your hand trying to style your hair, AND TO TOP IT ALL OFF, your heels BROKE.
âThatâs it Valentines Day is CANCELEDâ, you moaned into your pillow to emotionally exhausted to put the effort into anything. You already gave Senku his gift, a well saved up trip to the new planetarium that just opened,,
So why is he at your door,,, with a bouquet none the less
âHappy Val-â
âWho are you and what have you done with my loverâ, you cut him off. He smirked at you and pushed past you into your house. Already on his way to put the flowers in a vase, making sure it was cut. The way you always did to his flowers.
âI know you love this stupid holiday, so I decided to humor youâ, he smirked at your incredulous look. Walking over he kissed away the worry in your brows.
Senku was a weirdo, but he was your weirdo and thatâs all you could ask for.
