((Brook x Reader, romantically. Set at the beginning of the timeskip. Requested by someone on Quotev.))

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Your hand set around the doorhandle, pushing it down until the lock clicked. With a light nudge of your foot, you moved the wooden door open and walked into the room behind it. A row of mirrors with stools on one side, shelves lined with make-up and costumes. Some props right next to the door. A table in the opposite corner, packed with snacks and tea and- uhm.. A large human skeleton?

You brushed back the bangs from your eyes, as if that strange view would go away, gazing at the skeleton propped up by the table.

Was this some kind of prank again?

Your manager had said there was a new rookie singer waiting to meet you but... Well, there was no one here. Except a fake skeleton with a funny afro, that is.

Did they really think this was a time for jokes? Your lead singer had just up and left -ran away with a groupie- and in a few days you were supposed to hold a concert at a charity event.

The skeleton turned its head and you could feel the pair of empty eye sockets staring directly at you.

Wait, how did it just move on its o-

"Ah, what a lovely lady. May I humbly request to see your panties?"

...

The scream had left your lips just as one of the prop-guitars by your side smashed into the skeleton's skinless face.

A crack sounded as part of the fake guitar crumbled to the ground, along with the apparently not so fake skeleton.

"Yohoho! What a smashing introduction!" it laughed with amusement evident in its surprisingly smooth voice while it sat back up from the ground where you had sent it and began dusting off its old fashioned suit.

"Wh-what in the world..?" was all that you managed to mumble out, stepping back instinctively from this creepy.. thing?

Surely this was just some sort of new machine prop the tech guys had built? For the upcoming Halloween-themed event? But how did it move and talk so fluidly? There was no way this was something artificial, no?

Now that the skeleton had stood up, you noticed how freakishly tall it actually was. Maybe a little less than nine feet?

It was, to say the least, rather intimidating.

You held up the part of the guitar that was still clutched in your hands, pointing it at the skeleton threateningly, "what are you?"

The afro-wearing skeleton turned its head and even though there weren't any muscles or skin, you could tell that he was smiling.

"A musician," he answered your question, taking his funky little hat and dipping it low like you had seen older people do to greet another, "I take it you're (Y/n)?"

Musician? If he knew your name then.. was this your new rookie singer?? A talking skeleton? Really?

Slowly, you began lowering your improvised weapon.

"Uh, yeah, that's me.. Then are you.. Brook?" you cautiously asked the tall bone-construction before you, your eyes still lingering on this strange view of a man. If you could even call him a man in the first place.

The invisible smile on his skull seemed to widen and he bowed politely, "it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

At least he was well-mannered enough for a skeleton. Although.. didn't he ask something about your underwear?

You realized you had been silently staring at Brook for a good bit when he waved a boney hand in front of your face, causing you to slightly shake your head and drop the broken prop.

"Right, right," you said, pinching the bridge of your nose, "sorry, my manager loves to not warn me about stuff like.. this."

At the last word, you gestured toward his whole appearance, before then brightening up with a smile, "anyway. If you're our new singer then I should show you around the place. Have you meet the crew and all that."

It would be better to just go with the flow right now, you thought as you lead Brook out of the room and toward where the stage was being set up.

Showing him around, you wondered how in the world your manager found this dude. Was that what had he been doing all these weeks? Digging up corpses until he found one that could sing? Weirdo.

Well, whatever.

He didn't smell like rotting bodies at least and he was capable of complex thoughts, so who were you to judge his looks?

While introducing him to the part of the crew that was currently here, you watched his reactions. It was strange how his emotions were so obvious to tell on a face that didn't have anything but bone. This would need some time to get used to.

Aside from you, it appeared as though a good chunk of your colleagues had either been told about Brook or had already seen him before since only very few freaked out when they met him.

Good for you though. Less of a hassle to explain.

Not that you could explain. You had no idea how or why he was like this. Perhaps you should ask? Or would that be rude?

"-and this is where we'll be performing together in a week." you ended the long tour at the center of the unfinished stage, spreading out your arms toward where the future audience would be, "I'm curious to hear you sing. The manager said you were destined for great success so we all have high expectations of you."

The lanky skeleton leaned over you a bit, looking out into the empty plaza with equally empty eyes.

"Yoho? They did?" he asked, sounding almost embarrassed, "ahh, you'll make me nervous."

You couldn't help but raise a brow.

"I'll make you nervous? Have you ever looked into a mirror? I'm more worried you're going to make the audience nervous, haha!"

Although he joined your laughter with a subtle chuckle, you could tell there was something bothering him. As if he had a troublesome problem on his mind.

"By the way," Brook said after a moment of silence, "you haven't said what your position in the band is yet."

"Oh, sorry. Must've slipped my mind after you scared me half to death," you responded, turning around to face the skeleton, "I'm the drummer! I'll also support you with some backing vocals for a few songs."

Holding out your hand, you smiled at the tall skeleton, "looking forward to working with you!"

When Brook reached out to take your offered hand, you had to suppress a shudder. Naked bone on skin was not a nice feeling.

But strangely enough, his hand felt warm. As though, despite not having any blood, there was life pulsating somewhere in him.

Well, duh. He wouldn't be here if he were 100% dead.

"Yoho~ Likewise," Brook said, pulling up your hand a little as he leaned down and placed what you assumed was supposed to be a kiss on your knuckles. Of course, he didn't have any lips so it felt more like he was about to bite your fingers.

Still, you could feel a subtle warmth creeping up your neck.

For a dead man, he was worryingly flirty.

"Now that we have a bit of free time," the skeleton man said, leaning forward more, "could you show me your panties?"

You blinked at him. So he did actually ask that before.

Pulling away your hand, you placed it over his face instead and gave him a good push that made him almost fall over backwards.

He was weirdly light. It made sense though since he was literally nothing but bones.

Deciding to take his flirting with a grain of salt, you threw him a grin, "I might show you if our charity concert is successful."

You didn't expect a skeleton to be able to blush.

It was a funny sight.

"Now come on, since we don't have much time we should start practicing right away," you told him, giving a pat to his back but only hitting some loose clothes due to the lack of a body.

This would be hard to get used to, you could tell that much by now.

Well, better get to it already.

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Bright lights flashing, heat rising, the bass vibrating throughout your body, cheers echoing in the plaza and sweat running down your back.

It was a familiar feeling of ecstasy as you brought the drumsticks down to the drums, the beat mixing with the other instruments and pushing forth your new lead singer's voice.

You leaned slightly to the side into your microphone, singing along with the chorus. Your voice mixed with the other backing vocalist into a mini-choir.

You could barely see anything but you didn't need to use your eyes anyway. What kind of musician needed to see to make music?

The song built up toward your drum solo and although it was short, you didn't hold back on it. Spinning the drumsticks and rocking your head, you let the music flow.

Oh, how you loved to play like this. Without having to hold back for anything or -one.

It felt natural yet exhilarating. Each beat rushing through your veins. An addiction you never wanted to quit.

As Brook took over again, you had a bit more attention to spare, looking at your new colleague as he was singing the last parts of this song.

Although everyone had been -let's say- sceptical about his talent, it was quite obvious why your manager picked this dead-man-walking. Something about his voice reached deeper than just the ear. You couldn't put your finger on it entirely but it felt.. nostalgic?

Whatever it was, it did a great job with riling up the audience. His unusual looks were no issue since this was a spooky themed concert and no one questioned a singing skeleton on stage.

Hell, they were digging it even.

The last note rang out and Brook drew out his vocals for a grand finale that sent shivers up your spine. Such a smooth voice.

You wondered what it would sound like if he used it to talk d- ah, wait. Not on stage.

Good thing your face was already flushed from the physical exhaustion of playing an entire concert.

One or two shades deeper wasn't noticeable.

You leaned your head up as colorful confetti fell around you and your bandmates, chest heaving to catch air.

You did it. With just one week of prep-time, you actually pulled off a good show. The audience chanting for an encore was proof enough.

Sadly you couldn't give them one when you had already played everything you practiced. Next time though.

You were so tired, not just from the playing but also from a whole week of pulling all-nighters, that you barely remembered getting to the backstage room reserved for you. You had a smaller one to yourself since you were the only female bandmember.

Only when something icy cold was pressed against your forehead did you come back to your senses somewhat.

Making a surprised 'uwah!' sound, you shot up to see Brook holding out a cold can to you, his skull-face looking happy.

"Great job out there, (Y/n)," he complimented, taking a seat by your side and lifting a can of his own to his li- uh.. teeth, "I almost got goosebumps! But I don't have any skin! Yohohohoho!"

With a light sweatdrop, you opened up your can and took a long gulp of it. The sweet-sour taste of citrus washed away any dryness and soothed your throat.

Glancing over to your tall singer, you watched intently as he drank. Over the week, you had noticed that he was able to eat and drink like everyone else, despite him not having a stomach or a throat or anything fleshy at all.

Where did the food go once he put it in his mouth? It appeared to just.. vanish? What would happen if he put something that wasn't food in his mouth? Would it also disappear or would he just have a block of wood stuck in his jaw?

Brook had taken notice of you staring at him and so he turned his head toward you. His jaw opened but before he could say anything, you had stuck two of your fingers between his teeth.

"Ah-!" the skeleton made, clearly taken by surprise when you wiggled around in his skull.

The tip of your fingers stuck out the bottom hole of his jaw, completely unharmed. You could wrap around his lower jaw with ease.

So only food got magically consumed.

"(Y/n), hawd arr yu doong?" mumbled out Brook, unable to talk clearly with two of your fingers in his mouth.

"Why are you mumbling? You don't have a tongue that could get blocked," you responded, confused how his body was imitating regular human things when it didn't even have the organs for that.

Pulling your hand back again, you took another sip of your lemonade.

The still shaken skeleton rubbed his jaw, looking a little confused himself.

Then he checked the area of your breakroom, as if making sure you two were alone here.

"Say, (Y/n)," he began, "do you know of devil fruits?"

"Those funky fruits that give you powers when you eat them?.. OH! Is that what this is?" pointing at Brook, you wondered how you hadn't thought of that yourself. Now that he mentioned it, it seemed obvious.

Of course those freakish fruits that defied the laws of nature would also be able to turn a man into a peeled version of himself.

Brook nodded, sitting back up and sipping his drink.

"I died fifty years ago."

"... H-huh? Oh, uh, wow. You.. You look pretty good for a zombie?" you stumbled out, caught off guard by that rather straightforward yet heavy statement.

Your befuddlement drew the signature 'yohohoho' laugh from your boney friend as he placed his now empty drink down, a somber expression crossing over his face for a moment. Then it was gone, washed away by another smile.

This one was almost cheeky. If he had any cheeks. Yohoho!

"Mind telling me a bit about yourself too? Since I told you a secret of mine," the skeleton asked, his tone free of pressure that made it clear you could decline if you wanted to.

You thought about it. But you didn't have to think that long.

He was now a part of your band, something you considered to be at the same level as family. It would be good to know and trust each other.

"Hm, let's see. I joined this band six years ago after my first one of four years.. disbanded, so ten years of music in total," you told Brook, tapping your chin thoughtfully. Was that enough? Maybe you should add something personal? He did tell you that he literally died. That was a pretty big thing to tell someone.

The tall man perked up, tilting his skull lightly to the side, "you said disbanded in a strange way. May I ask what happened?"

After a brief hum from you, you leaned back in your chair, staring up at the ceiling. You could probably trust him with part of the story.

"We had this one pirate crew that kept following us and robbing every place we played at. I don't know why they were so obsessed with us but over time, word got around that wherever we went, the pillaging followed. Naturally, no one wanted to have us anymore," putting a hand over your ribcage, you closed your eyes, "so we split up."

Although that wasn't the whole story, you didn't want to trauma-dump on someone you had only met a week ago. Maybe one day you'd tell him the rest of what tragedy had befallen your previous family.

Even if it happened all those years ago, you could still feel your heart sting. They had been family, yes, but staying with them also would've meant giving up on your dream. You weren't about to do that. Not then, not now.

But sometimes, you wondered what could've been if only those damned pirates had left you be.

"I'll never forgive those bastards for forcing us to drop everything we had. Pirates can go rot in hell for all I care," you mumbled to finish up your part of the secret exchange.

You were too preoccupied with keeping your emotions in check that you didn't notice the uncomfortable look on Brook's face.

"Anyway," you said as you hopped up from your chair, picking up the empty can and chugging it into the trash, "we should be celebrating! Not moping around, haha!"

"Right," Brook said, crossing one of his thin legs over the other as he looked at your standing form, "the concert was a success, yes?"

You threw your emptied drink after the first can as well now, looking at him as you wondered about just how old he was exactly if he died fifty years ago and not really paying attention to what he was saying, "yeah, I guess."

"May I see your panties now then?"

"Who said I'm wearing any?"

A brief silence followed. You could practically feel Brook's gaze wander down from your face to your- Thud!

Brook had keeled over backwards, off his chair and to the ground, a large fountain of blood spewing from his triangular nose.

You didn't know a skeleton could get such a strong nosebleed. Or, well, any nosebleed at all for that matter.

It took you a whole few seconds to realize he had pretty much passed out on your floor.

What a pervert... A strangely polite and somehow cute pervert. But a pervert nonetheless.

Leaning over him and waving a hand over his face, you waited to get a reaction but didn't get one ever after you slapped his skull a few times.

He must've been even more exhausted than you. Coming into a new band and then having to perform in just one week. It was understandable that he needed rest now.

You didn't really think he would be too much to carry so you grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him over yours.

You were right, he was super light and easy to carry. Although his bones were a bit uncomfortable. No fat to cushion their edges and all.

With a sigh, you carried the passed out lead singer to his own room.

There would be many more concerts to come.

And who knows, maybe after one of them you'd show him what he asked for.

Maybe. Just maybe. If he behaved.