Heather Dale's music changed my life

... And much more but I don't want this drag

✒️ note that while I am in every fandom listed above, I am not opening requests for all of them simply because I am unsure of my ability to properly characterize and fully understand the lore within that media. The ones with highlighted are the ones that I am most confident writing for.

✒️ If you are a part of the fandoms that I am not yet writing for but still want to interact (whether it'd be a question about my opinions on one specific character or just rambling about your favorite piece of lore) you can feel free to send in an ask through my inbox and I'll do my best to respond!

I am willing to write:

- fem!reader, gn!reader, platonic & romantic relationships, fluff, angst, headcanons, oneshots, smaus, (separate) multiple characters (max: 3 characters).

I am NOT willing to write:

- incest, large age gaps, smut/nsfw, pedophilia, yanderes, assault, body shaming, abusive relationships, cheating/infidelity, character x character, character x oc.

Please note that if you requested something that makes me uncomfortable, that request will be deleted.

Masterlists

Genshin Impact Masterlist — 9 works found !

Twisted Wonderland Masterlist — 7 works found !

Record of Ragnarok Masterlist — 4 works found !

Fairy Tail Masterlist (no works yet!)

Dr. Stone Masterlist — 1 work found ! (Masterlist coming soon...)

Blue Lock Masterlist — 2 works found ! (Masterlist coming soon...)

Divider Credits:

@enchanthings

You slipped into the private room at the tea house, letting out a massive breath you felt like you’d been holding for three days. Thoma was already inside, meticulously organizing a secondary platter of golden-brown Tonkatsu, while Kuki Shinobu sat quietly in the corner, trying (and failing) to untangle a bunch of paper streamers.

"Did you make it without him seeing you?" Thoma asked, setting down a pair of chopsticks.

"I took four different detours, changed my walking pace every two minutes, and hid behind a komainu statue when I heard boots," you said proudly, setting the piping-hot box of fried food on the low table. "He has no idea."

"Right," a playful voice piped up from the window frame. "And the faint aroma of frying oil clinging to your clothes was just a new perfume you're trying out, I assume?"

You froze.

Sitting on the outer ledge of the open window, swinging his legs with an utterly shameless grin, was Heizou. He was lazily twirling an unlit sparkler between his fingers, his green eyes sparkling with amused mischief.

"Heizou?!" you gasped, dropping your hands to your sides. "How—where is Kazuha?!"

"Ah, Kazuha?" Heizou tilted his head, hopping gracefully down onto the tatami mat. "Well, when he told me there was a 'suspicious breeze' near the Shrine, I pointed out that the wind was actually blowing from the south, meaning any anomaly would be down by the docks. He gave me that soft, knowing smile of his, wished me a happy birthday, and wandered off to write a poem about autumn leaves."

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "He sold me out."

"Oh, don't blame the poor samurai! He's a gentle soul," Heizou chuckled, strolling over to the table like he owned the place. "Besides, you started planning this days ago. You asked Yoimiya for sparklers, cleared out half the oil supply at the local diner, and you've been avoiding eye contact with me since Tuesday. How cruel... I was beginning to believe that that you were planning on breaking up with me..." Lies.

Shinobu sighed, tossing the tangled streamers onto a cushion. "I told you we should have just bought him a bottle of sake and called it a day."

"Hey, now! Don't ruin the mood," Heizou said, stepping closer to you. He reached out, his fingers catching your wrist and gently tugging your hands away from your flushed face. "I, for one, think this is the best birthday party I've ever had."

"It's not a surprise if you knew the whole time!" you huffed, though you couldn't suppress the small smile tugging at your lips.

"Ah, but the menu was a mystery!" Heizou leaned in, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper as he inhaled the scent coming from the table. "I knew you were hiding something, but I didn't know you managed to get a double order of crispy chicken skewers and deep-fried tofu. You really pulled out all the stops."

"If it's for you..." You mumble quietly, a rosy flush creeping up on your cheeks. Heizou merely raised a brow. "Hm? I didn't quite catch that."

"... for you... too much..."

"Do my ears deceive or did you get quieter?"

"UGH, I SAID THAT IF IT'S FOR YOU, NOTHING WOULD BE TOO MUCH!" 

"Aww, how you move me with your words, partner!" 

Meanwhile, your party guests simply looked on with a blank look on their eyes.

'Get a room you lovebirds.' Was their collective thoughts.

❝ Thank you for reading this lovelies! ❞

A shrill voice shattered the gentle tide.

"Oh shitttt..." You couldn't help but curse. Of course, this kind of crap would happen when you wanted the day to be absolutely perfect. 

A few yards down the sand, a couple was in the middle of a screaming match so intense that a nearby crowd of Onikabuto seemed to be fleeing for cover.

"The cheating part isn't even the bigger problem here! Why didn't you tell me you were gay?! If you had, we—no, I wouldn't be suffering with a BROKEN HEART! Did you like deceiving that much...?" 

"No sweetheart, it's not like that! He was just helping me appraise antique porcelain, I swear!" the partner bellowed back, waving his arms wildly.

Heizou immediately stopped in his tracks, his green eyes lighting up with unhelpful fascination.

"Technically," Heizou murmured, leaning in close to you with a playful grin, "if he’s appraising porcelain at two in the morning near Nazuchi Beach, it’s not just porcelain. Also, look at his posture—he's hiding something in his left coat pocket. Classic deflection. But the better question is: why did he feel like hiding something seemingly innocent from his partner? Unless-"

"Heizou," you sighed, laughing despite yourself as you tugged his sleeve. "We’re supposed to be on a romantic walk."

"Right, right! Romantic walk," he agreed, though he glanced back over his shoulder three times as you steered him away. "Just saying... if she checks his coat, she’ll find the pawn shop receipts. Or perhaps an engagement ring... "

"Heizou!" You hissed, "day off, remember?"

He merely chuckled, "right, right."

Sure, the walk was ruined by a bad omen that must not be said out-loud, but that was just a small, teeny tiny setback on the special day you had planned just for Heizou!

Despite the rough start on your day, you had thankfully prepared a few back-up plans! You guess being with Heizou for so long has rubbed off on you.

Now, plan B: A quiet indoor tea session at a cozy nook you reserved.

Except the Inazuman sky decided that a subtle weather change was far too boring. Within five minutes of walking toward town, thunder clapped so hard it rattled the floorboards, and the sky opened up into a apocalyptic deluge.

By the time you both scrambled inside his place, you were completely drenched. Hair plastering to your faces, clothes heavy with rainwater, squelching with every step.

You slumped against the closed door, wiping water from your eyes. "I’m so sorry, Heizou. The weather forecast said clear skies all day. This whole day is completely ruined."

Heizou shook out his dark red hair like a wet puppy, rain dripping off the tip of his nose. He took one look at your defeated expression, then at his soaked boots, and broke into a low, rumbling laugh.

"Ruined? Are you kidding?" He reached out, gently sweeping a wet strand of hair behind your ear. "When was the last time the Tenryou Commission let me run through a hurricane without giving me a stack of paperwork afterward? It’s liberating!"

You glanced towards him, meeting his emerald eyes. "You sure you're not just saying that because you want me to feel better...?" 

"I promise."

Determined to save at least one tradition, you insisted on baking the small cake you’d prepared earlier.

Well, "cake" might have been a generous term. Somewhere between the humidity, the sudden temperature drop, and a slight mishap with the oven timer while trying to dry off your clothes, the cake had collapsed into a flat, mildly lopsided crater.

You placed the plate on the low table between you two, staring at the sad pastry with dismay. "It was supposed to be a fluffy Onikabuto-shaped sponge cake."

Heizou sat cross-legged across from you, wrapped in a warm blanket, two cups of hot tea steaming beside him. He inspected the cake with the gravity of a man reviewing a major case file.

"Hmm. Upon closer inspection..." He poked it with a fork. "...it has character. A tragic backstory, even."

"You don't have to eat it," you murmured softly.

"Are you kidding?" He broke off a piece, popped it into his mouth, and chewed thoughtfully. "Crispy on the outside, dense on the inside—it’s a limited-edition masterpiece. Chef’s kiss."

Outside, the storm raged, rain pattering rhythmically against the windowpanes. Inside, the room was warm, smelling of tea and slightly overbaked sugar.

Heizou leaned across the small table, resting his chin in his hand, his eyes sparkling with warmth under the dim lamp light.

"So, my dear detective partner," he coaxed gently. "Let's review the evidence of today's case."

"Exhibit A: A public break-up melodrama that provided top-tier entertainment. Exhibit B: Getting caught in a torrential storm that forced us to drop all work and rush home. Exhibit C: A cake so unique it defies traditional pastry physics. And finally-" Just hearing Heizou list out each and every failed plan made you shrink in your seat. Sure, most of these were out of your control but still! The day was a complete disaster! 

"-Exhibit D: You, spending the entire day trying to make me happy."

"The verdict?" Heizou pulled you by the wrists, coaxing you over until you were wrapped in the same blanket beside him, his arm sliding naturally around your waist. He rested his cheek against your temple, letting out a soft, contented sigh.

"​If today had gone according to your plan," Heizou began, his voice dipping into that playful, analytical cadence he used when laying out a airtight case, "we would have had a perfectly pleasant, entirely predictable afternoon. And predictable is fine! Predictable is nice. But do you know what my favorite part of being a detective is?"

​"The dramatic reveals?" you guessed with a faint smile.

​"Unpredictability," he corrected, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. "The unexpected turns. The mysteries. Today, Teyvat handed us a bizarre comedy of errors—a soap opera on the beach, an impromptu monsoon, and a cake that defied all laws of culinary science."

"Wow, alright, rub it in why don'tcha?" 

​He paused, his expression shifting from teasing to deeply sincere. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small gift you’d given him earlier—a customized, hand-carved deer you'd managed to slip into his coat before the rain hit. He turned it over in his hand, running his thumb over the polished wood.

​He leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your temple, his breath warm against your skin.

​"Predictable days are easy to forget," Heizou whispered, wrapping his arm securely around your waist and pulling you closer into his lap until your head rested right under his chin. "But this? A day where everything went hilariously off the rails, where we got completely soaked, hid from the storm, and ended up tangled together under a blanket eating flat cake?"

​"I'm going to remember this birthday for the rest of my life," he murmured against your hair. "Not because the plans worked, but because I got to navigate the chaos with you. You made an effort to give me a perfect day, and in doing so, you gave me something way better: a memorable one."

​You couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled up in your chest. You leaned deeper into his chest, listening to the steady, comforting beat of his heart under his clothes. "So... you don't mind that the cake tastes a little burnt?"

​"Mind?" Heizou gasped in faux indignation, pressing a quick, affectionate kiss to your lips before grinning wildly. "My dear assistant, I intend to finish every last bite. But first... you're warm, the storm is loud, and I have zero cases waiting for me until Monday. Let's just stay right here."

​You smiled, closing your eyes as he tightened his grip around you, the thunder outside completely forgotten beneath the warmth of his arms.

❝ Thank you for reading this lovelies! ❞

He won't insult the person. Instead, he will use his overwhelming, terrifyingly polite aura to make the outsider realize exactly who they are dealing with.

It’s less about doubting you and more about a breach of respect. He believes his partner deserves the highest decorum, and someone casually hitting on you insults the sanctity of your relationship. Once the person scampers off, he might give you a fond, slightly amused sigh. "You truly are dangerously charming, my love. Try to notice it next time, will you?"

Qin Shi Huang

An Emperor like Qin Shi Huang never gets jealous because it implies that the other party has a chance of winning you over (but damn is he possesive).

Qin Shi Huang considers himself the center of the universe—and if you are his significant other, you are the empress/emperor of his world. He is inherently possessive because, in his mind, everything under heaven belongs to the Emperor.

Qin will not sit back and watch. The moment he sees someone spending too much time with you or throwing out subtle flirts, he will lounge his way right into the middle of it. Literally. He might slide right between the two of you. What a little shit (I say this with all the love in my heart).

He handles it with supreme arrogance masked as a smile. He will loudly praise you, touch your hair, or remind the person of his status. If the guy doesn't take the hint, Qin’s blindfold might slip down just enough to give them a gaze that promises an absolute beatdown. He likes to mark his territory visually—holding your hand, pulling you onto his lap, or wrapping his royal robe around your shoulders.

Qin is secure in himself, but he loves drama and loves showing off what is his. He expects total devotion because he gives total devotion. He’ll teased you about it later, leaning in close to whisper, "That person was looking at you with greedy eyes. But they forget... where the Emperor stands, no one else is permitted to claim the prize."

Buddha

On the scale of jealousy/possesiveness scale, Buddha is bordering on never, entirely due to absolute security and a hands-off philosophy

Buddha is the definition of "doing whatever he wants" and being completely unattached to petty worldly anxieties.

He knows you love him. You know he loves you. Why would some random person change that?

If someone is hitting on you, Buddha will likely be sitting nearby, chewing on a lollipop, watching the whole thing unfold like it’s a funny reality TV show. He knows you're oblivious, and he finds your cluelessness absolutely adorable.

He doesn't step in out of anger. If he does step in, it’s usually because the other person is getting annoying or interrupting his time with you.

He’ll walk up, drape his arm heavily over your shoulders, blow a bubble-gum bubble in the guy's face (what a little shit part 2.), and say something like, "Hey, thanks for keeping my babe entertained, but we're gonna go grab snacks now. Catch ya later." 

Buddha is so deeply secure in his own skin and your bond that jealousy rarely—if ever registers. He trusts that you can handle yourself perfectly fine.

If the person gets aggressive, Buddha will simply crush them into the dirt without a second thought, but standard flirting? He just shrugs it off. He knows that at the end of the day, you’re walking away with him.

"You don't have to say a single word about what happened, Yuu. But please let me know if you're ever uncomfortable or in pain. From now on, the Scarabia lounge is your personal comfort zone—no exceptions!"

Malleus Draconia

As a dragon fae, Malleus understands the biological and spiritual significance of flight better than anyone. The discovery hits him with a heavy, somber gravity.

The secret might spill during a quiet, late-night walk in the Ramshackle courtyard when the moonlight catches the distinct scarring peeking from underneath Yuu's shirt.

The air grows noticeably colder, and a faint, protective green aura might flicker around him. His expression softens into something profoundly sorrowful. To a dragon, the loss of wings is a tragedy beyond words.

Malleus treats Yuu with a newfound, gentle reverence. He is incredibly careful not to touch Yuu's back without explicit permission. He feels a deep, quiet anger at whatever circumstances caused this to happen to his favorite human, but he keeps it entirely checked to avoid distressing Yuu.

Malleus will subtly start accommodating Yuu without making it obvious. Need something from a high shelf? It's levitate down before Yuu can even reach. Want to see the view from the top of the castle? Malleus will find a way to bring the magic of the skies down to earth for Yuu.

"To lose your skies... I cannot fathom the strength it takes to walk forward as you do, Child of Man. You need not explain the past to me. Just know that while you reside in this world, my shadow will always be a safe harbor for you."

Vil Schoenheit

Vil is hyper-aware of bodies, posture, and the phantom tells of physical trauma. He probably figured out something was wrong long before the official reveal—perhaps noticing a slight imbalance in Yuu’s gait or the way Yuu tenses when someone approaches from behind. When the secret finally breaks (perhaps during a costume fitting or a rigorous P.E. cleanup), Vil handles it with absolute professionalism and hidden warmth.

Vil doesn’t gasp or make a scene. He simply stops what he’s doing, his sharp eyes taking in the scars. His expression hardens, not out of disgust, but out of a fierce, protective instinct.

Vil immediately shuts down any onlookers or gossips with a terrifying glare. Once they are in private, he addresses it practically. He doesn't pry into the trauma, but he does demand to know how Yuu is taking care of the phantom pain and scar tissue.

Vil’s way of showing affection is through meticulous care. He will personally concoct specialized therapeutic creams to help with skin sensitivity and tension around the shoulder blades. He validates Yuu's beauty and worth, ensuring Yuu knows that a lack of wings doesn't make them any less magnificent.

"A secret like this must have been exhausting to carry alone. Put your shirt back on, Yuu. You don't owe anyone an explanation. Tomorrow, you are coming to Pomefiore; I am crafting a regimen to ensure those scars are properly cared for. You are a prefect of Night Raven College, and you will hold your head high."

And, most importantly, you noticed the exact micro-second his voice dropped from its usual edge to a flatter, genuine tone.

"You're running on three hours of sleep," you said, sliding into the chair across from his lab desk. You didn't look up from your book, but your hand precisely reached out and intercepted a glass beaker he was about to blindly knock over with his elbow.

Senku didn't look up from his notes, his pen scratching furiously. "Ten billion percent incorrect. It’s three hours and fourteen minutes. And your point is?"

"The coffee stain on your cuff," you remarked, turning a page. "You only spill when your spatial awareness degrades from sleep deprivation. Also, you said 'Yo' today instead of your usual 'Oi.' Your vocal cords are strained from yelling at Taiju, meaning you're trying to overcompensate for low energy."

The scratching pen stopped. Senku finally looked up, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly. It was a look you loved—the look he gave a particularly stubborn physics problem.

"You're a creepy baseline of observant, you know that?" he said, though there was a twitch of a smirk on his lips.

"I just pay attention to my favorite scientist," you said easily, leaning your chin on your hand. You never hid your feelings in metaphors. You liked him. You had liked him for a year. You told him every Tuesday. "And because I like you, I brought the snacks you prefer when your brain is fried. They're in your bag. I put them there before you noticed."

Senku blinked, checking his side bag. Sure enough, a pack of his preferred energy jellies was sitting right on top. He let out a sharp, amused huff.

"Acts of service," he muttered, tearing one open. "How logical of you. Saves me the time of going to the vending machine."

"I aim to please," you smiled, leaning back. "Though, a 'thank you, you're the light of my life' wouldn't hurt. Words of affection, Senku. It’s a recognized love language."

"A pseudo-scientific concept," he countered immediately, though he didn't stop eating the snack you'd provided. "Feelings are just chemical surges in the brain. Asking for verbal confirmation is redundant when the data—your presence here wasting your study period—already proves the thesis."

"Maybe," you chuckled, your voice softening as you watched him work. "But hearing the data out loud makes the brain release a little extra dopamine. I like hearing how you feel about me. Even if it's just a percentage."

Senku paused, his eyes darting to your face, analyzing the open, unabashed affection written there. He wasn't a guy made for grand romantic gestures, but he moved his laptop exactly three inches to the left—perfectly clearing the space on the desk so you could rest your arms comfortably.

"Quality time," he grunted, looking back at his screen. "Shut up and sit there then. I have a rocket report to finish."

You smiled, settling in. You knew exactly what that space meant.

Three thousand seven hundred years didn't change his core, but it changed the stakes.

In the Kingdom of Science, Senku was a visionary in a dirt-stained tunic. He carried the weight of human civilization on his shoulders, scheming against Tsukasa, managing a village of primitives, and inventing the modern world from scratch.

And you were right there beside him, the silent grease in the gears.

You were the one who noticed Gen Asagiri’s fingers twitching in a specific pattern when he was lying to the villagers, allowing you to smoothly step in and redirect the conversation before a riot started.

You were the one who saw the slight limp in Chrome’s stride after a long foraging trip and secretly left a poultice in his shed.

You cleaned the charcoal dust off the shared blueprints before the humidity could smear the lines into illegibility.

You read everyone perfectly. Except, lately, the one person who mattered most.

"Senku," you said, stepping into the lab hut late one evening. The war with Tsukasa was looming, and the tension in the village was a physical weight. "The calcium carbonate yields are fluctuating. You're adjusting the formula manually every batch, which means you're trying to hide a deficit from the others."

Senku didn't look up from his earthenware vessels. "It's a minor variable. Nothing the village needs to panic over. I’ve got it handled."

"You've got everything handled," you said, your voice dropping, losing its usual playful edge. "But you haven't looked at me in three days. And when you speak to me, your pitch rises by about five hertz. You do that when you're trying to sound dismissive." You didn't want to sound needy but the looming threat of the Empire of Might has a way of making your heart ache with doubt. You hated this feeling. Abhored it, if you were being honest.

Senku stopped stirring. His posture went rigid. "We're preparing for a war that determines the fate of humanity. I don't have the bandwidth to calibrate my vocal cords for your psychological check-ins."

The bluntness hit differently in the dark of the Stone World. It didn't feel like a playful remark anymore; it felt like a wall slowly closing in on your fragile self.

"I’m not checking in on a test subject, Senku. I’m checking in on you," you said, stepping closer. "I need you to talk to me. Truly, truly talk to me. Not just give me orders or logic puzzles. I need a word, Senku. Just one genuine sentence to know we're still... us. Before everything goes to hell."

Senku turned around slowly. His eyes weren't filled with the warm curiosity of the old school lab. They were cold, analytical, and utterly exhausted.

"That's exactly the problem," Senku said, his voice dropping into a dangerously quiet register. "You're constantly analyzing the data. You're looking at my posture, my voice, my habits. It's like you're trying to build a psychological profile to predict my next move like I'm a puzzle to be solved."

You flinched. "I do it because I care about you-"

"No, you do it because you want a specific emotional output," Senku interrupted, his words sharp as obsidian. "You want 'words of affection.' You want reassurance. But right now, human civilization is resting on a knife's edge. I can't afford to be psychoanalyzed every time I breathe heavily or turn my head. I need a partner in the lab, not a therapist who's overthinking every single variable because she's insecure."

The word insecure hung in the humid air of the hut like a foul gas.

Your throat tightened. Your gift—the thing that allowed you to understand everyone, to protect everyone—was being framed as a suffocating leash. You looked at him, searching his face, but for the first time in your life, your brain short-circuited. You overanalyzed the coldness in his eyes, multiplying it by the stress of the impending war, and came to a devastating conclusion: He thinks I'm a liability. He's pulling back because I'm a distraction.

"I see," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "The data is clear then."

Without another word, you turned and walked out of the hut, leaving him alone in the dim glow of the firelight.

For the next two days, you were a ghost.

You still did your job perfectly. The calcium carbonate was sorted. You anticipated every need of the Kingdom of Science before they even knew they had it. But you didn't step foot in Senku's personal space. When you handed him tools, your fingers never brushed his. When he spoke, you answered with crisp, professional efficiency.

You shut off the valve. No blunt declarations of love. No teasing observations. After all, you didn't want to be insecure.

Senku kept working, but the silence in the lab was deafening. To a man who lived by empirical evidence, the sudden absence of a constant variable was glaringly obvious. The desk wasn't cleared. The countless amounts of containers in the lab weren't arranged. When he reached for the small cup of water, it wasn't there. 

Because you weren't there.

On the third night, as the rest of the village slept, Senku found you down by the river, meticulously washing out glass vials.

"The manganese solution is ready for tomorrow," you said smoothly, not looking up as his footsteps approached. "You don't need to check. I measured it to the milligram."

"I don't care about the manganese," Senku said.

You paused, your hands hovering over the water.

"Your breathing is shallow," Senku continued, walking up to the edge of the riverbank. "Your shoulders are locked at a twelve-degree elevation, which means you're in a defensive posture. And you haven't looked at my face in seventy-two hours. It’s an illogical waste of energy to avoid eye contact with a coworker."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. "Are you psychoanalyzing me now, Senku? I thought that was a suffocating waste of time."

"It is," Senku said, stepping down into the shallow water, ruining his shoes without a care. He stopped right in front of you. "But apparently, it's the only language you're willing to listen to right now."

You finally looked up, your eyes bright with unshed, angry tears. "I was trying to give you space! You said I was too deep, that I was overthinking, that I was making you feel like a puzzle. So I stopped. I stopped analyzing you. I stopped pushing my feelings on you."

"And your conclusion was that I wanted you to disappear?" Senku asked, his voice losing its harsh edge, replaced by a rare, raw frustration. "Ten billion percent incorrect. Your deduction skills completely failed you, idiot."

You blinked, startled by the sudden shift.

Senku groaned, running a hand through his gravity-defying hair. He looked completely out of his comfort zone, pulling at the collar of his tunic.

"Look," he muttered, his eyes darting to the side before forcing themselves back to yours. "I'm a man of science. I don't do the... emotional monologue thing. It's inefficient. But you want words? Fine. Here's the raw data."

He took a step closer, closing the distance between you until you could smell the faint scent of sulfur and woodsmoke on him.

"I didn't pull back because you're a distraction," he said, each word deliberate, heavy, and completely unvarnished. "I pulled back because you're the only thing in this world that isn't a calculation to me. When Tsukasa threatens the village, I calculate a countermeasure. When a chemical fails, I calculate a new formula. But when you look at me and tell me you love me—or when you notice I'm tired before I even realize it—there is no formula for that. It scares the hell out of me because I can't control it. And if I lose this war... I lose you. And that is a variable I cannot mathematically survive."

You stared at him, your breath hitching in your throat. Your hyper-observant brain was screaming, analyzing every micro-expression. The slight tremor in his jaw. The dilation of his pupils. The utter, terrifying honesty in his voice.

He wasn't rejecting you. He was terrified of losing you.

"Senku..." you breathed.

"You're disgustingly good at reading people," he muttered, looking away, a faint but undeniable crimson flush creeping up his neck. "So read this: I need you here. Just as you are. Blunt, annoying-" you almost scoffed at that—but you'll let it slide, "-and overly observant. The lab is completely inefficient without you. And... I like the dopamine rush when you talk to me."

A tear finally spilled over your eyelashes, but a wide, brilliant smile broke across your face. It was the most un-Senku-like confession possible, which made it the most perfect thing you had ever heard.

You stood up, wiping your hands on your tunic, and took the final step forward, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. He stiffened for a fraction of a second, completely unaccustomed to the sudden physical contact, before his hands found your waist, gripping you with a quiet, desperate intensity.

"Quality time," you whispered into his shoulder. "And those were very good words of affection, chief scientist."

"Shut up," Senku mumbled, though he didn't pull away. He rested his chin on the top of your head, his heart beating a steady, rapid rhythm against your chest. "We have a war to win tomorrow. Don't make me waste any more time explaining the obvious."

"Understood," you smiled, closing your eyes and listening to the perfect, uncomplicated science of his heartbeat.

Rin Itoshi

You lean back on the couch, a smile decorating your lips. Kenyu Yukimiya... From what you could gather from skimming his page, he was a model—rather good-looking too, and you've seen your fair share of drop-dead gorgeous people. He, despite not being in the starting line-up, also plays for Bastard München.

His personality was just your type, you wonder how he slipped from your radar this long.

"Well I suppose that's because I'm not really into the sporty types... Until now, that is."

'(P.S. I'm going on a trip to Japan next week... Perhaps you can be my tour guide)'

Your post flashes through your mind and almost immediately you start to regret it, a pink flush crawling up to the tips of your ears.

Truth be told, you weren't gonna to go to Japan; your plan was to stay at your penthouse and just chill. You didn't know where the sudden boldness came from but now, you have to reap your consequences.

After all, you didn't want to lead someone on—that's not who you were. You were raised to follow up on your words, even if you meant it as a joke.

Ding!

The notification piqued your interest. Quickly unlocking your phone, you found one message from Yukimiya.

You gulp down your anxiety as your heart hammers in your chest. 'Why am I even active on this platform if all it does is bring me anguish...' You lament to yourself.

Throughout the week, you and Kenyu—Yukimiya insisted that you call him by his given name—have been messaging each other basically 24/7 despite the timezones separating you both.

He tells you about his team, how practice is going and small time modeling gigs. You began to feel rather fond of him. Really fond.

He was kind, he asked you about your day, your troubles, and he was actually engaged in the conversation instead of simply pivoting the attention all on him—it was the bare minimum, sure, but it still turned you into a blushing mess.

You couldn't wait to visit Japan. And more importantly: you couldn't wait to see Kenyu Yukimiya. The cold, crisp air of Japan hits you the moment you step out of the terminal, a stark contrast to the stifling anxiety that had consumed you during the entire eleven-hour flight. Dragging your sleek suitcase behind you, you pull your coat tighter around your shoulders.​

You actually did it. You booked a last-minute flight, packed your bags, and abandoned your cozy penthouse plans all because of a spur-of-the-moment post and a text message.​

Pulling out your phone, you open your chat with Kenyu, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. The terminal around you is bustling, a blur of Japanese announcements and rushing travelers, but your focus is entirely locked on the screen.

The screen of your phone darkens as you lock it, sliding it back into your pocket with fingers that feel suddenly clumsy. Your heart is hammering a frantic, embarrassing rhythm against your ribs, loud enough that you half-wonder if he can hear it from a few feet away.​

You lift your gaze, looking up from the glowing screen to find him standing just across the bustling terminal. Kenyu is leaning casually against a pillar, the background noise of the airport melting away into a strange, focused quiet. He’s looking right back at you, a soft, knowing smirk playing at the corners of his lips—the exact kind of look that makes your stomach do a dizzying, weightless drop.​

For a second, the heavy fatigue of the long flight and the fog of jet lag evaporate completely, replaced by the dizzying reality that he's actually here, right in front of you, looking even more unreal in three dimensions than he did through a camera lens.​

"Well," Kenyu's voice carries effortlessly over the ambient murmur of the arrivals hall as he pushes off the pillar, closing the distance between you step by slow step. "Are you going to keep staring at your phone, or are you going to let me officially welcome you to Japan?"​

Any lingering regret about leaving your couch completely vanishes, replaced by a sudden, electric wave of excitement. This trip might not have been planned, but looking at him, you have a feeling you won't be regretting it at all.