Dream - Isagi Yoichi

🕸️ 034 . the life we never lived.

synopsis seen through kaiser’s pov: the photos should’ve been his. he remembers being there—holding your hand, whispering promises—but now, it’s all gone. rewritten. like he was never part of your story.

i thought so hard on this, look at the timestamps & compare

series MASTERLIST

notes from lily ❦⋆ : thank you all for reading 🫶🏼 i hope i did a good job on this, & i hope yall had fun reading this. shjsjeksk ineed2sleep

TAGLIST

@mixolya @x3nafix @96jnie @tamashithe2nd @cookielovesbook-akie @yuiearyi @noomimi @stargirljas @jhsluvv @lotusofia @livelaughloveshidou @swagkittybear @axquella @passw-0-rd @hwaassaa @saeglazer @tofumiarchives @justanotherweeb666 @metaphorically-here @ravenbc @levihanmyotp @rybunnie @adrnmyknight @etherealrin @shosuki @90s-belladonna @wwastro @shr00mfairy @pan-kojiwa @pctterheadd @shumeow-h @deadlydollsstuff @renchai @nomyimi @beomn @heartmaddie @orphicarchive @sky-casino @8x9d @hanmastattoos @biscuitsx

© ffleurist 2025 do not plagiarise, translate, or rewrite my writings without my permission !

Masterlist of HTF/Viral Hit ✨Bullshit✨

Lookism Masterlist | Part 2 ☞ (multi-character headcanons/dynamics)

Lookism Storylines ☞ (fun shit. mix of x reader and with reader)

Gun + Goo | Jake + Samuel | Everyone else ☞ (single character-centric standalones)

... Even More Lookism Masterlist ☞ (different characters in same scenarios series)

You're here! How To Fight/Viral Hit Masterlist | Seong Taehoon

Maintained collection of my HTF/Viral Hit silly writing, headcanons and ramblings

General

Seong Taehoon x Reader: HTF discovering You & Taehoon dating

HTF sharing love hotel room hc (Taehoon, Yeonwoo, Museong, Seongjun, Jinho)

HTF x Reader: tall, quiet, glasses (Hobin, Taehoon, Wangguk, Yeonwoo)

HTF Boys Dating/Boyfriend hc (Taehoon, Seongjun, Yeonwoo, Wangguk, Munseong)

Kissing: Seong Taehoon | Baek Seongjun

Being ill + looking after them (Taehoon, Wangguk)

HTF x Reader: Kabedon with Taehoon, Seongjun

Men of Lookism: Bathhouse Meeting Part 3... with Guests

HTF Boys responding to "NICE BUTT!"

Hugs from HTF Guys hc

Comforting YOU hc: Seong Taehoon, Baek Seongjun

Lookism/HTF reacting to your deepfakes

The Way of the Househusband: Lookism and HTF hc

Lookism + HTF: Who fell first and who fell harder hc

Lookism + HTF react to: "Surprise! You're having a baby!"

Lookism + HTF Guys: Boobs, Ass, Thighs or...?

HTF Boys reacting to you wearing their clothes: Munseong, Wangguk, Yeonwoo, Seongjun, Taehoon

Lookism+ HTF guys react to their fanfics...

HTF texting habits: Munseong, Yeonwoo, Wangguk, Taehoon

Baek Seongjun Standalones

Baek Seongjun x Reader: Kimono

Baek Seongjun x Reader: Broken

Baek Seongjun x Reader: Cuddling to a bit more hc

Baek Seongjun x Reader: Happiness

Baek Seongjun x Reader: Prince

Baek Seongjun x Reader: Washing Dishes

Baek Seongjun x Reader: Cooking on the boat

Other standalones

Ji Yeonwoo x Reader: Confessing to You

Ji Yeonwoo x Reader: Older reader hc

Ji Yeonwoo x Reader: Love at first sight

Seo Haesu BS

Haesu x Reader x Taehoon (if you actually want to read something, you're going to be disappointed)

Seo Haesu x Reader: Rainy days

Seo Haesu x Reader: Catnaps

Seo Haesu x Reader: You like me

Seong Hansu x Reader: an old man and his memories

Baek Seongjun's Dad x Reader (simp over someone else, kid)

Joshua dating hc

Ramblings

HTF/Viral Hit Women

prev⟺next

Being Sukuna’s girlfriend is not always easy. He’s the type to show his love rarely, but when he does, it’s aggressive, to say the least.

You’ll often wake up with his large hand wrapped around your neck, his warm fingers just long enough to reach around your entire throat. At first, it was startling—a demon man you just started dating who shows basically no affection is choking you in your sleep? Was he trying to kill you and just got tired half way through??

All of your questions cease although, the moment you find out why he does this. You decided to pretend to be asleep one night as you were lying in his royal chambers, covered in love bites from moments before when he decided to suckle and nip at your skin—another strange way he shows his love for you. Your eyes flutter shut as soon as you hear him walk out of the bathroom, knowing he’s just finished brushing his teeth and is now ready for bed.

The mattress dips when he lies down next to you, inches away at first, but when you feel his large frame hover over your face to make sure you’re asleep, he moves right up against your back. You’re surprised to feel one of his muscular arms wrap tightly around your waist, the other reaching under your head so that you’re essentially using him as a pillow. His chest rumbles lowly when his hand moves below your chin, fingers carefully wrapping around your throat as usual.

You’re waiting for a squeeze, the tip of one of his nails jutting into your skin, or even a few harsh words in your ear. But all you feel next is his fingers tightening slowly, the tip of his index hovering just above your pulse point, before pressing into your soft, pliant skin. You feel your heart race against the pad of his finger, then another rumble from his chest against your back.

“Mine,” he whispers gently, before running his thumb over the soft edge of your jawline. He then presses one last kiss to the top of your head before lying his head down and closing his eyes.

Let’s just say, you never question his weird, sometimes animalistic, possession over you; because in reality, he’s just a big guy who doesn’t know how to express his unyielding love for you.

It’s givinggggggg tiger!sukuna. Should I…explore the waters of that concept more? I probably will despite the reaction to this💪🏻🫡

˗ˏˋ 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐫 : 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐭 ´ˎ˗

𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝

↳ sour honey :: 🔞

↳ tell me you love me :: 🔞

↳ i know you love me :: 🔞

𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬 | 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝

↳ hours :: 🔞

↳ pancakes

𝐡𝐜𝐬/𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐬 | 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝

↳ mack’s trick or treat :: 🔞 (sfw as well)

↳ comfort

↳ things armin does

↳ s/o & clothing

i hope you find something you like <3

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last updated 3/16/2025

all of my work is tagged #mimi’s notes or #mimi’s thirsts

YO I LOST THIS BLOG WHEN I LOOKED AWAY AND NOW I CANT FIND IT

Its like the avatar boys in a high school setting and they confess to reader or visa versa if you find it plsssss tag me or send it my way

Also the person page was talking about basketball aonung or something like that

I didn’t even finish it man😫

Fool's Heart (Part 1) - Liam Mairi

summary: reader has always brushed off Liam’s flirting, knowing he never stays with one girl for long—but when she finally admits to herself that she wants more, she finds him with someone else. Heartbroken, she avoids him until he confronts her.

pairing: liam mairi x fem!reader warnings: angst word count: 1.8k

Part 2: Click here

⸻⸻⸻✦ ♡ ✦⸻⸻⸻

Y/N sat on her bed, staring blankly at the stone wall across from her, her mind a tangled mess of emotions. She hadn't meant for this to happen. Falling for Liam Mairi was never part of the plan. He was a flirt, a charmer, someone who never stuck with one girl for long. And yet, here she was, her chest tightening at the thought of him with someone else.

Y/N had never cared about Liam’s reputation. At least, that’s what she told herself. He was the golden boy of their squad—brilliant in battle, effortlessly charming, and infuriatingly attractive. But he was also a flirt, one who never lacked new romances. Twice a week, without fail, another girl would slip into his room, and twice a week, Y/N would bury herself under her blanket, pretending she couldn’t hear the muffled giggles or the sound of a door shutting a room away.

Earlier that day, they had been in the training yard, catching their breath after sparring. Liam leaned against the wooden post, his shirt damp with sweat, a lazy grin playing on his lips. "You know, Y/N, if you keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna start thinking you like what you see." Y/N rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. "Liam, I could be blindfolded and still land a hit on you. Maybe focus on your footwork instead of flirting?"

Liam let out a dramatic sigh, pushing off the post to step closer. "You wound me, truly. Here I am, offering you the privilege of my undivided attention, and you just throw it away." She smirked, shaking her head. "Undivided? You were flirting with that second-year cadet not even five minutes ago." Liam chuckled. "Jealous?" Y/N scoffed, shoving his shoulder lightly. "Please. I just think it’s funny that you recycle the same lines. You should at least try to be original."

His grin widened. "Oh, but I am. See, the thing is, none of them get the same treatment as you.” She felt her stomach flip at his words but masked it with an unimpressed expression. "So, what you’re saying is, I’m special?" Liam leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a teasing murmur. "Very." Y/N stared at him for a beat before shoving him again. "Go shower, Mairi. You stink." His laughter echoed as she turned on her heel and walked away, but she couldn’t shake the warmth spreading in her chest.

A knock on her door snapped her out of her thoughts. "Y/N? You in there?" Violet’s voice was gentle, but firm. Y/N hesitated for a moment before sighing. "Yeah, come in." Violet stepped inside, closing the door behind her. She took one look at Y/N’s expression and raised an eyebrow. "Okay, spill." Y/N groaned, running her hands over her face. "It’s nothing." Violet snorted. "Bullshit. You've been weird around Liam for weeks. And before you say anything, I've seen the way you look at him. What’s going on?"

Y/N bit her lip, hesitating. Then, before she could stop herself, the words came tumbling out. "I think—I know—I have feelings for him. And it’s driving me insane because he’s Liam. He’s never serious about anyone." Violet nodded slowly, as if she had already known. "What changed? You guys have always been close, but something’s different now." Y/N exhaled sharply, her mind flooding with memories. "It’s always been there, I think, but I just ignored it. I didn’t want to acknowledge it because I knew it wouldn’t matter. He flirts with everyone. But lately... lately it’s been different."

Violet crossed her arms. "How so?" Y/N let out a humorless laugh. "It’s the little things. The way he always makes sure I have my favorite seat at the table. How he somehow remembers the exact way I take my tea, even though I only drink it when I’m sick. The way he teases me, but it’s never too much. He always knows when to stop, when to be serious."

She swallowed hard before continuing. "A few weeks ago, I was freezing after drills, and he just—he just wrapped his jacket around me without saying a word. He didn’t make a big deal out of it, didn’t expect anything in return. And then there was that night after sparring when I was exhausted, and he just sat with me in the common room, letting me rant about how much I sucked. He told me I was strong, that I was getting better. He said he believed in me." Y/N let out a shaky breath. "It’s stupid. I’m being stupid. He is just a friend."

Violet shook her head. "It’s not stupid, Y/N." "It is," Y/N insisted. "Because at the end of the day, he still has a different girl in his bed every other night. And I’m just another cadet in his squad." Violet studied her best friend for a moment before sighing. "Look, I won’t pretend to know exactly what’s going on in Liam’s head, but I do know one thing—he cares about you. I see it. We all see it. And maybe, just maybe, he’s been waiting for you to see it, too."

Y/N shook her head. "And what if he hasn’t? What if I go to him and he laughs in my face? Or worse, what if he doesn’t even care?" Violet grabbed Y/N’s hand, squeezing it. "You’ll never know unless you try." Y/N hesitated, her heart hammering in her chest. And then, with a deep breath, she stood. "Okay. I’m going to talk to him."

By talking to Violet, she had found the courage to do something about it. To go to him. To knock on his door and tell him that she—The sight of him stopped her cold. Liam was leaning against his doorway, shirtless, his pale skin illuminated by the flickering hallway torches. And in front of him, pressed against his chest, was a girl.

Blonde, beautiful, draped in nothing but one of his shirts. His hands rested on her waist, his head dipping close as he whispered something that made her giggle softly. Y/N’s stomach twisted violently. She should move. She should run. But her legs refused to work. All she could do was stand there, helpless, as Liam’s lips found the girl’s neck, as she curled into him, as his door clicked shut behind them. And just like that, everything shattered.

A sharp inhale burned her lungs. She pressed her fingers against the cold stone wall, willing herself to breathe, to stay upright. But it was impossible, because the truth had never been clearer. It had never been her. Not really. She had let herself believe in something that was never hers to have. That she was somehow different. That the way he looked at her meant something. That she wasn’t just another girl who could be so easily forgotten in the morning.

Gods, she was an idiot. A broken laugh escaped her lips, bitter and self-deprecating. Of course this was how it would end. Of course she would be the fool who thought Liam Mairi could be anything other than what he was. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she turned on her heel, her vision blurring as she walked away. She would be fine. Eventually. But tonight, she let herself grieve the fantasy she had so stupidly let herself believe in.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Y/N spent the next week and a half avoiding Liam like the plague. She skipped meals when she knew he’d be in the dining hall, trained at odd hours to avoid crossing paths, and stuck close to Violet or Rhi whenever she had to be in the same room as him. But it was impossible to avoid him forever, especially when they were in the same squad. 

Liam noticed. At first, she thought he might not. He had enough distractions—flirtations, fights, responsibilities—to keep him occupied. But by the end of the second week, it was clear he had run out of patience. His stares had become more pointed, his usual teasing remarks absent, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

That evening, as she tried to slip out of the training hall before he could catch her, a strong hand wrapped around her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt through her, but she forced herself to stay rigid, unreadable. “Alright,” Liam’s voice was low, rough, tinged with irritation. “What the hell is going on?” Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she turned to face him. His piercing blue eyes bore into hers, full of confusion, frustration, and something else she couldn’t name. Her pulse pounded, her instincts screaming at her to run, but his grip on her wrist—firm, steady—held her in place.

“Nothing,” she muttered, attempting to tug her hand away. He didn’t let go. “Bullshit.” His voice sharpened, his brows drawing together. “You’ve been avoiding me for days—weeks, actually. You barely look at me, you leave the second I walk into a room, and don’t even try to deny it because I see it every damn time. You won’t even spar with me anymore. What did I do?” His voice softened just slightly at the end, the frustration laced with something dangerously close to hurt, and that nearly broke her. But she refused to let him see how much this was tearing her apart.

Y/N clenched her jaw, anger bubbling up—not at him, but at herself. Anger for feeling this way. Anger for thinking she had been special. Anger for hoping. “You didn’t do anything, Liam,” she snapped, her own voice betraying the turmoil inside her. “That’s the problem.” His brows furrowed, his head tilting slightly as he tried to piece her words together. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

She let out a sharp exhale, shaking her head. “It means I’m an idiot,” she bit out, her chest tightening with every word. “It means I let myself think—just for a second—that maybe you were different with me. That maybe I actually meant something to you.” Liam’s grip on her wrist slackened slightly, his expression shifting from frustration to something raw—something she couldn’t bear to see.

“Y/N—” “I saw you,” she cut him off, her voice cracking despite her best efforts. “That night. With that girl. And I felt like a fucking idiot because I actually thought—” She let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head at herself. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.” Liam’s lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but no words came out. And that silence, that hesitation, was worse than anything he could have said.

Her throat burned as she swallowed against the lump forming there. “I have feelings for you, Liam,” she admitted, the words barely more than a whisper. “And I hate myself for it.” Then, before he could say anything, before he could see the tears welling in her eyes, she yanked her wrist free and turned away, walking off before the weight of her own words could crush her completely.

Part 2: Click here

Deceiving the Duke | 6 | Todoroki Shouto

pairing: Todoroki Shouto x Female Reader

length: 3.1k of 30k words | 6th of 9 chapters

summary: When Camie Utsushimi elopes on the eve of her society debut, scandal threatens to destroy the family’s prospects. It’s up to you, a maid, to impersonate Camie throughout the Season, long enough that her elder sister can make a match. The only trouble? Lord Shouto Todoroki is also intent on making a match—and that match, quite impossibly, appears to involve you.

tags/warnings: romance, regency au, class differences, hidden identity/identity porn, aged up characters, eventual smut

Over the course of the ensuing weeks, your certainty only grew worse: you were developing feelings for Lord Shouto.

You sent another letter to Camie, ashamed to tell her that not only had you continued the scheme against her express wishes, but now you were falling for the worst person possible. She wrote back, heartbroken to hear it, demanding once more you put a stop to things before they went too far.

But you couldn’t help yourself. You would never again get time with Lord Shouto–you wanted to revel in it as long as you could.

You reassured yourself that he meant to marry the princess–a rumor that was only growing stronger as the season crept onwards with no hint of a proposal to anyone from his corner–and he meant only to use you as a deterrent to the other scheming misses and matchmaking mothers crowding the parlors and assembly rooms of Musutafu.

You hoped that once your own scheme was uncovered he wouldn’t hold it against you–would understand that you’d liked spending the time with him, but had never desired to trap him in any sort of romantic understanding.

Lord Shouto made things so much more difficult for you by continuing to be so horribly good. He was kind and attentive, and so unexpectedly funny, you couldn’t help but fall harder.

He sought you out many times a week, taking you for several more promenades, insisting on a dance at every ball, and even took you riding in the park. He even let you take the reins when you’d reached an emptier stretch of road where no one might see you driving, showing you how to steer his set of bays and smiling that gentle smile when you got the hang of it and urged them to go faster.

He called several times more, bringing another bouquet of flowers for you–tiny bright jonquils tangled with orange winter cherries, and hedged with short-trimmed ferns–that you managed to squirrel away into your tiny bedroom without the Utsushimis seeing.

He was on your mind so constantly that you found yourself ducking into the haberdashery on an afternoon Miss Uraraka and Lady Asui had invited you out. An idea seized you as you had looked into the window, and you found yourself drawn over to the small selection of handkerchiefs for sale.

You didn’t have much in the way of spending money, sending most of it back to your family, but you had just enough to buy a linen square bordered in a dark blue. Miss Ochako and Lady Asui watched you almost too knowingly as you did.

You worked late into the night that evening, tucked up in your bed with embroidery thread and a book you’d ferreted out of the late Mr. Utsushimi’s study propped open in your lap–a Greek primer, with a tiny section on Ancient Greek. You found that their phonetic system did not align quite so neatly with yours, but you made do, stitching the closest approximation of Lord Shouto’s name in the Greek alphabet–how it might be spelled had he found himself there.

You hoped he would find it fun, and not too silly–-and that he would understand that you had liked him enough to think of him, even when your deception was uncovered.

Giving to him was another matter, however, as you found yourself too shy and girlish on the several occasions you saw him next. It stayed tucked away in your reticule, burning at your wrist.

You finally resolved to give it to him at a dinner party at Lady Cathleen’s, where you might hopefully be able to flee to the other end of the table and not speak to him for the rest of the night. Caroline had informed you that tables were set according to rank, meaning the Utsushimi family would find themselves at the foot of the table, with Lord Shouto all the way at the head.

In preparation, you donned the most secure of Camie’s gowns—which was not saying much—but you felt better for the more protective, higher neckline, the muted blue of its color which would draw little attention your way, for it almost bordered on the drab palette of married women or spinsters. You knew Camie had chosen it for the contrast it would draw to her largest, sparkliest choker of paste jewels, which you carefully ignored in favor of her smallest pendant.

You would be as well hidden as you could manage, at the other end of the table, and with any luck Lady Cathleen would dress her table with elaborately tall candlesticks and floral displays you might duck behind.

In fact, once you thought of it, you were almost certain you could hide Lord Shouto’s gift at the table itself, that you might not have to confront him in person with the full force of both your stupidity and your regard for him. You wouldn’t even need to witness his expression upon its receipt.

It was with that thought that you stuck to the edges of the drawing room as guests crowded into Lady Cathleen’s estate, drawing as little notice as you could. You requested the restroom as soon as you were able, instead sneaking off towards the dining room to scout out Lord Shouto’s place.

Except—as you scanned the head of the table–his place card was nowhere to be found. You knew he was coming–Mrs. Utsushimi hadn’t shut up about it, and besides that, Lord Shouto had told you as much himself. Brow furrowing, you wandered around the table.

A little shocked thrill went through you to see his name next to Camie’s, towards the opposite end of the table he should have been. Camie’s name also had managed to come unmoored from the Utsushimi block that occupied the end of the table, several seats away from Caroline and Mrs Utsushimi.

You wondered at the specificity of the mistake, and then a thought occurred to you.

Well–if there had been a mistake, it only made sense to use it to your advantage.

You quickly tucked your gift under Lord Shouto’s place card, very carefully that it might only be seen once he’d moved it. And then you took your own place card away and carried it down the table to Caroline’s spot. You’d just managed to replace hers with yours when a low voice carried across the room.

“I suppose I should be less surprised to find you in another deserted room.”

You froze, arm still outstretched over Caroline’s seat, your eyes darting up to the entryway. Lord Shouto stood there, looking as preternaturally handsome as ever. The candlelight glinted off the white of his hair, burnishing it gold, and the shadows danced in the hollows of his cheeks, the divot under his full mouth. He was dressed in a dark gray dinner jacket, a cravat tied immaculately at his throat.

He took a step into the room, a white eyebrow raised.

“Lord Shouto,” you said hoarsely, quickly whipping Caroline’s card behind your back. Perhaps he hadn’t seen what you’d been up to. “I—it’s not what it looks like.”

“Then you are not rearranging Lady Cathleen’s seating placards?” he asked in his smooth baritone. He continued into the room, circling the table to you.

A hunted feeling crept over you. “I–it’s funny it should look that way…but I, um…”

Lord Shouto drew closer, leaning in, and a gloved hand touched the place card in your fingers, tugging it gently from your grasp. He glanced down at it, a tiny smile touching his mouth. “You’d not been about to seat Miss Caroline next to me, had you?”

His gaze darted over to the middle of the table where his placard sat, like he’d already known there’d been some mistake with his placement.

Hot embarrassment burned its way through your veins, and you snatched Caroline’s place marking out of his hand. “As a matter of fact, the only empty spot is next to you,” you said, attempting to make your way around him to put it down.

“And that would not be because you had already moved another place card, would it?” Lord Shouto asked mildly, stepping in front of you so that you almost headbutted his chest. You backpedaled wildly, almost tripping over the hem of your gown.

“I—what proof have you?” you demanded, trying your best to sound as though you hadn’t just done exactly that.

Lord Shouto’s smile widened, a rare sight, and it sent a lick of heat right down your spine. You clutched a chair, aware of how stupid it was that a smile was about to send you into a swoon.

Those long fingers reached out and pulled Caroline’s place card from your grip again, and Lord Shouto produced your own, switching your places once more. “The proof that I asked Lady Cathleen to seat me here, with you,” he said simply.

A horde of butterflies exploded in your chest again, and your face went hot.

How could he say things like that so easily? An ask like that was a clear declaration of his favor–something you very much did not deserve, all things considered.

“Your Grace,” you said, in protest.

Lord Shouto’s smile flashed white in the candlelight, a clever half-moon. “It was you who doubted I might reign in my presumption by the end of the season. You should be pleased to find yourself proven right.”

Pleased didn’t quite cover the breadth of emotion you were feeling–embarrassment, guilt, and pleasure all warred with one another in your chest.

“Really, I was doing you a favor,” you insisted, gesturing at Caroline’s place setting. “She is a great conversationalist, and very pleasing to look at.”

“As you have said perhaps hundreds of times,” Lord Shouto acknowledged. “It is just as well I can look at her from across a table.”

You frowned up at him. “I am beginning to think you do not mean to find a wife, as you’d hinted.”

Lord Shouto bent his head so he could lean closer, and your hip bumped the table as you stepped back, nervous with his sudden proximity.

“Then you did take my meaning that day,” he said, his voice low.

Your skin prickled at the layer of intent in his tone.

“And I am only trying to help you now,” you told him. “You’ll get very little mileage out of me as your dining companion, considering I cannot wed.”

“Cannot,” Lord Shouto murmured, as if turning the word over in his mouth.

“Caroline can, however,” you continued as though you hadn’t heard him. “And I understand she is a very desirable match. She’s acquired several admirers, you know, and you won’t want to dally. There is a Mr. Awase who is very keen.”

“You say it as though you are not a desirable match,” Lord Shouto said.

His words were like a thunderbolt, striking through you. The very idea of you as a desirable match!

You laughed, but Lord Shouto’s face did not change, and he pressed even closer, close enough that you found yourself trapped against the table. Lightning zinged in your veins as you registered the heat of him over you, your blood singing with the thrill of a man so close.

“You do not believe so?” he asked. He was close enough that you could feel the exhalation of his words on your mouth.

Your head swam with the ridiculousness of the question, and the press of him so close. You scrounged around for an appropriate ripost, but then Lord Shouto’s face drew even nearer.

Your breath seized in your chest, and you stared silently up at him, heart racing.

Outside, a loud laugh sounded, startling you, and you jumped, almost smacking your forehead into Lord Shouto’s nose.

He dodged neatly, smiling ruefully and stepping away. But there was a light in his eyes like he was strangely satisfied–as though he’d confirmed something.

“We should go, lest we are discovered here, and your reputation compromised,” he said. “You should take your leave first.”

You could tell he meant to prevent you from switching the place settings again once he was gone, and you squinted at him suspiciously. He looked far too pleased with himself, and his smile seemed to grow a fraction wider. It was your observation that his eyes slivered into little crescents when he truly smiled that finally sent you stumbling out of the dining room, your heartbeat tripping over itself.

You found your absence had gone unnoticed when you arrived back in the drawing room, though Lord Shouto’s entrance was intently noted by every single set of female eyes. Several fans came out, flapping back immaculately coiffed curls, and Lord Shouto’s face went politely blank.

You stifled a laugh at his expense.

Eventually you were let into the dining room and you found yourself at Lord Shouto’s side once more. Lady Cathleen’s eyes flickered interestedly over you and tried not to look too strange or suspicious under her attentions.

You were pointedly studying the table linens with avid interest when you felt Lord Shouto stiffen beside you. Out of the corner of your eye you saw him draw the handkerchief out from under his place card, and you found you couldn’t lift our eyes to his face, too anxious of his reaction. You adopted a sudden fascination with the centerpiece to your opposite side–until a gloved hand touched yours in your lap.

You startled, almost knocking over your water glass, fingers reflexively seizing on the hand that had touched you.

You glanced up at Lord Shouto as his own fingers tightened on yours, and found him smiling that tiny, private smile of his. His gaze was almost molten in the candlelight.

“I see rearranging the place settings was not your only objective,” he said. There was a touch of pleasure in his voice, so rich and low. The sound made your blood fizz like a bottle of champagne had just been poured down your veins.

His hand shifted, his wrist resting on your thigh, and your breathing went shallow at the feeling of a man’s hand where it had never been before.

“I–you might think it’s silly—” you groped for something to say.

“I can think of no gift I have ever liked more,” he said.

The praise flooded through you in a warm wave of pleasure, and your ears went hot. “I…should like if you would think of me fondly, after this season,” you said.

Lord Shouto’s brows creased, and that full mouth pursed a little in thought. You tried very hard not to think of kissing it.

“You say that as if you do not plan we should ever see each other again,” he said carefully.

A hot stab of panic lanced through you when you realized you’d almost hinted at the dissolution of your scheme. You searched for some response.

“I–there is only one objective to the season,” you said. “After a match is made, I’ll have no reason to return to Musutafu, unless my husband’s estate is at a close enough remove.”

“I thought you did not mean to marry?” Lord Shouto asked. You almost jumped again when a server reached between the two of you to serve the first course–a pale soup swimming with carrots and rice.

Fuck, that was right. You had said you’d not meant to make a match. “Do not worry, Lord Shouto. You are safe from any attempts on your virtue.”

But Lord Shouto did not look at all reassured by this. “Then you do wish to marry?” he asked.

You did not see a way around answering truthfully. “I–well, yes, eventually,” you admitted. You had at least had hopes at one point, before meeting Lord Shouto, before understanding that no other man might ever measure up. Gentry though he might be, you’d never felt as light-headed, as happy, as surprisingly comfortable in another person’s presence.

You had not meant to feel quite like this about him.

“One day, I should like to,” you said, trying not to sound morose. One day, a long time from now, perhaps you would have enough distance that you might once again find the prospect of another man palatable.

Lord Shouto’s gloved thumb smoothed over your knuckles, and you realized you’d still been gripping his hand. You reluctantly let go, but he seemed to feel no need to move his hand.

“One day and the end of this season sound rather distant from one another,” Lord Shouto said.

You stared into your soup to avoid having to look at him, guilt settling heavily in your stomach. “It is complicated,” you said. “All there is to know, my lord, is that I plan this should be my last season in Musutafu. And that I should like you to think of me fondly, as I shall think of you. For all that you seem to insist on dwelling in darkened rooms, you have been a bright spot in this season.”

You pointedly studied the silverware, wanting to start in on your soup to halt conversation, but found that you could not remember how Caroline had instructed you to dine. Was it outward in, or inward out?

Your hand hesitated over the silverware, and Lord Shouto’s finally rose from your lap to press gently to the outward-most spoon.

“It’s this one,” he said, leaning in. “Outward in.”

That smile was back on his mouth, and it felt both private and conspiratorial, somehow. Like you shared a secret, though the only secret you had, really, was the one that he absolutely could not have known.

“Of course…” you said primly, like you’d just momentarily forgotten. But your heart warmed a little with his assistance and you couldn’t help the smile that wormed its way across your face in answer. “Thank you.”

Lord Shouto’s eyes seemed to linger on your mouth for a long moment, before he murmured, “Anything I may give you.”

And for a minute, it sounded like he meant more than just help with the spoon. Like he was offering something much larger, much more secret.

But of course that was nonsense. You waved him off, answering in turn. “You are kinder than you know, Lord Shouto. I will remember that too, always.”

You started in on your soup, feeling Lord Shouto’s eyes lingering on you still.

But for the rest of the evening, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just had a conversation with him whose parameters you did not truly fathom.

That Lord Shouto knew something he couldn’t.

But it wouldn’t matter, with the season so close so its end. You would just have to last a few more weeks.

[baby fever] ft. miya osamu

wc: 400

iwa | ushijima | atsumu | sakusa | kageyama | oikawa

--

You adjust the gemstone earrings as you finish up the final touches of your outfit. It’s been a really long time since Osamu has been free for date night and he was sweet enough to make reservations for tonight. You’re just about ready when he pops his head in to check on you. 

“Ya ready, babe?” 

“Just a sec!” 

You grab your purse and make your way out. Osamu is waiting for you in the entryway, standing at his full height and dressed in a crisp, white button-up shirt. His usual attire of a plain black t-shirt is already enough to make you stare, but seeing the way his chest fills out the shirt and just the slightest bulge in his tummy makes you practically salivate. 

Osamu doesn’t question the way you gape, only chuckling a bit and getting on his knees to slip your heels onto your feet. He plucks your purse out of your slack grip and slides it on his shoulder, holding a hand out to escort you. 

You have heart eyes all night, keeping your gaze fixated on him instead of dinner. Osamu, a regular receiver of your stares, doesn’t seem to mind and simply opts to feed you bites of his dish when you remain still for too long. 

At the end of the night, Osamu asks for the dessert menu and talks you through the options, pointing at the options he knows you would like. 

You stop him though. You’ve been thinking about having a whole different nightcap all night. “Don’t want dessert, ‘Samu.” 

“No?” he raises a brow, corner of lips curling upwards and thumb brushing over your pulse point. 

“No,” you say. 

“Why not?” he teases. “Not feelin’ well?” He puts a warm palm on your thigh, where 2 of his thick fingers slip just a centimeter under your dress. 

“‘Samu,” you whine, but it comes out more of a gasp. You involuntarily push your thighs together. 

He lets out a low laugh and squeezes your thigh once. When he takes his hand back, his vacated spot feels cold, and he gives your ring finger a kiss in condolence. “I’ll go pay. Be right back.” 

When Osamu comes back, he helps you into your coat and easily grabs your hand to begin the short walk home. You’re silent on the walk, feeling hot. It doesn’t get better as Osamu breathes into your ear, grazes his hand around your hips, and pushes your bangs away every time the wind moves a single strand out of place. 

He’s in an astronomically good mood and finally, you give him the stink eye. “You’ve been teasing all night,” you pout. 

“I thought you liked it.” 

You harrumph and mumble, “you won’t like it so much when we accidentally pop out a kid 9 months from now.” 

He raises a brow, pressing your whole body closer to his side. 

“Says who?”

Im sorry, I have to bother Osamu

——

“I swear to god I’m going to lock you in the bedroom.”

For whatever reason, Osamu decided that this was the night out he was going to dress down, usually sticking with jeans and a sweatshirt for most of the nights with the boys. Tonight however, he looks damn intoxicating, he looks like a bad mistake you’re more than willing to make: muscles jammed in a compression shirt that slightly cinches his waist, settled over the band of his grey sweats that cuff at his ankles. They sit low on his hips and good lord if he doesn’t hide the band of his boxers, you’re going to lose your mind.

“I look bad or somethin?”

“You think you’re gonna leave the house looking that fine! No. You look way too good to be sitting at Bokuto’s house. What do you think this is?”

He snickers as he ties his shoes, “baby, its just the boys-“

“I don’t trust you with that Sunarin. Don’t make me fight him off with a stick.”

He shakes his head and licks his lips, and you groan in frustration as he looks somehow even more fine looking.

He shakes his head and gently reaches up to rub his neck, “I'm so used to you being the eye candy, it's hard to think I could compete-"

“This is not about me,” you say breathlessly, and he gives you a quiet ‘sorry,’ before letting his shy, smiling face turn away. “You, Miya Osamu, are a god amongst mere maggots, and I shouldn’t have the permission to gaze upon you.”

He snorts and shakes his head, “you literally popped a black head on my nose yesterday, shut up.”

“That doesn’t stop you from being an absolute heartthrob.” Your swooning only makes his cheeks heat up more, and he chokes out a shy “stop,” before licking his teeth to try and break the smile on his now sore cheeks.

Quickly, you toss your arms around his neck and plant more than a few kisses to his jawline, noisy and wet, and it has him snorting.

“You’re so pretty,” you whine.

“Thank you, baby.”

“Literally going to wifey you up- you’re so handsome.”

“Shut up!” He titters.

You groan and gently cup his cheeks, “just a few more kisses, shut up and take them.” His lips are pursed out from the squishing of his cheeks as you plant a few kisses around his face, littering his nose and above his eyebrows. When you pass a kiss over his lips, he pushes out to chase the affection.

"You're so handsome." Kiss. "Truly ruining my life." Kiss. "I'd sacrifice my own left foot just to be in the same space as you." Your kiss moves up to his forehead, "literally let me be obsessed with you."

Kiss.

Kiss.

One long kiss.

You go to kiss him again, but you stop quickly as the consequences of your affection glares back at you. Instantly, your hands cover your mouth in shock, and he gives you a small chuckle as he quirks a brow at you, “what’re you lookin’ at?”

“Igaveyouahickey.”

“Huh?”

“Igaveyouahickey,” you repeat, your voice now pitched higher and more frantic. He chuckles again, this time a little more nervous before adjusting the tight cuff of his compression sleeve.

“Very funny, babe.”

You shake your head, “I wish I had those comedic capabilities, Osamu.”

With a gnaw of his lip, he gives you a deep inhale through his nose, “you gave me a hickey… on my forehead?”

“I’m so sorry-“

“how… did you give me a hickey on my forehead?”

“When… when-when I was kissing you,” you begin, now trying to hide your laughter because damn, this is pretty funny- “I think I kissed you too hard.”

“I don’t think this was a kiss, I think it’s when you sucked my face,” he says in exhaustion, working up the courage to look in the camera of his phone. He tucks his lips in to fight off his own smile, and that causes you to finally break out in laughter. Your arms clutch your sides as he stares at himself; he doesn’t blink. He doesn’t flinch. Just a close-smile stare.

“And what exactly do you plan to do to help me with this?” He asks, full knowing you don’t have a plan. You beam up innocently, and he knows that this is not going work and he’s going to walk into Bokuto’s house with bags of food and a damned purple hickey above his eyebrow.

You stalk over to him and reach your hand up and into his hair, dragging out the not-so neat locks to have some longer chunks in the center of his forehead and just above his brow, “here. Now no one will know!”

“Really?”

“Yeah!”

“Are your pants on fire, you LIAR?”

You snicker and pull back, admiring him and the pretty purple mark on his head. "It brings out your eye color."

"Oh, thank God, I was worried."

You laugh and make your way back into his arms, and he embraces you happily. "At least I don't have to worry about anyone taking you from me tonight,” you tease.

He smiles and kisses your lips, nipping at them to make you squeak, "never have to worry about that ever, baby."

"Except with Sunarin."

"Not true-“

"And Akaashi-san."

He smirks, "you may lose me to Akaashi-san."

"That's very fair."