keijiskisser

[keijiskisser]

live with love

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Reblog to let your followers know that despite your current obsession your previous obsessions still exist and are simply lying dormant until they awaken and strike again

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hear me out on your best friend BOKUTO KOUTAROU being your friendly neighbourhood spiderman...

BOKUTO who always spoke silly motivational quotes (that sometimes you could get and sometimes you couldn't) be it in real life or on the screen as spiderman (when interviewed by news reporters) – it was one of the signs you used to figure out his identity

in order to figure out if your deductions that BOKUTO was spiderman was right, you decided to try something out – asking him out on a hangout just when spiderman was being featured on the news (in an interview) in that moment, BOKUTO who received a call from you panicked and took his phone out from his spiderman suit pockets (excusing himself from the interview to answer your call) you thought it was sweet of him to make time for you (and also hilarious about how easy it was for you to figure out his biggest secret then)

BOKUTO who got so excited he forgot to change out of his suit before swinging over to your house (after the interview) once he got your call about hanging out – it was then you realised you didn't have to make up a whole plan on how to confront him about his hidden identity

BOKUTO who initially tried to sheepishly cover up his mistakes by trying to explain that it was a fake spiderman suit that he bought to give you a little surprise (for he claimed to have think you called to hang out for you were upset) yet, he found himself lost for words when you countered his excuses and told him you knew he was spiderman

BOKUTO who started showing you his new ways of affection (after you found out about his secret identity) by dropping off your favourite snacks that he bought from the convenience store at your bedroom window (no matter the day or the weather) in fact, when he didn't drop by it was both of y'alls own secret signal that he wasn't feeling well or something came up

BOKUTO who would sometimes even take you on night swings (when you were feeling low / needed to relieve your head)

when BOKUTO first took you on your first night swing with him, you were so nervous that you clutched onto his arms so tightly, red rings appeared around his arms afterwards – when he took off his suit at home for a late shower, he snapped pictures of them to show you

BOKUTO whom you once invited to show up in his spiderman suit to be a "pretend spiderman" for your nephew's birthday party (for he was the biggest spiderman fan in the world) you thought inviting spiderman (without spending actual costs on a cosplayer) to his birthday party would end his birthday with an unforgettable note

BOKUTO who did better than your expectations at being a "pretend spiderman" until your nephew asked if he could shoot webs (which he did without much thinking as the both of them were far too enthusiastic greeting each other)

you were thrown into a frenzy then when BOKUTO made that slip up (thankfully, no one really at the party got suspicious – only claiming that you invited the best spiderman cosplayer ever) only your nephew who believes the real spiderman actually visited his birthday party (which well he's not wrong...)

BOKUTO who confessed to you as spiderman on one normal night swing y'all had (except he took a route y'all usually didn't take – raising your confusion and worries) however everything soon became clear when he purposely stopped y'all on a rooftop of a building which faced a wall of an abandoned building (on the wall spelt 'will you go out with me?' with webs) and obviously you said yes to him (because who wouldn't?)

BOKUTO who was so simple minded with his confession plan that he didn't even think about having to clear up the spider webs on the building afterwards (so the next morning, y'all woke to the internet trending with topics such as 'spiderman having a girlfriend')

BOKUTO who had a good laugh over the trending internet searches that morning with you on video call

a/n: sorry my intrusive thoughts came over me and before I knew it, I got to work so..!! I love bokuto koutaro and I lowk love spiderman (so how about both of them together <3?)

[keijiskisser]

i. fresh | akaashi keiji x f!reader

ripe for the picking: masterlist

warnings: none, this is plot stuff and fluff so fluffy i almost puked

w/c: 1.9k

a/n: this chap and next chap will be sfw. after that…

the blaring alarm from your phone, something straight out of a nuclear fallout zone, wakes you with a groan, and you kick the covers off of your pajama-clad body, blindly smacking your hand down on the headboard in the hopes of turning off that godforsaken noise. after your fourth try, you get lucky, hand clasping around the device and your finger slamming down on the snooze button with such force that you fear your screen—or you finger—will break.

fucking hate that sound, you lament, but it’s the only one that can actually wake me up.

you stretch your hands above your head with an exaggerated yawn, before slowly making your way to the closet of your dorm room, weaving through half-empty cardboard boxes that you’d been too lazy to unpack when you’d arrived to campus at some ungodly hour the night before. staring at your sleepy face in the mirror, you silently wish that you could just curl back up in the blankets and sleep, but skipping class probably wouldn’t send the best message to your new professors.

it’s your first day of class at a new university after transferring in the middle of the semester, and you’re not really looking forward to swooping back into the social hierarchy of college after a blissful week at home.

unfortunately, you don’t really have much of a choice. not if i want this damn degree, you groan internally.

after taking a half-hearted shower in the grimy dorm bathroom, you throw on an random outfit—you’ve long since lost the motivation to make a good impression on your classmates since, in your experience, everyone’s a snake anyway. 

making your way out, you grab a coffee from the cafe across the road from your building and rustle around in your bag for the granola bar you’d thrown in their yesterday, fully aware that you wouldn’t have time to go to the dining hall the next morning.

you walk through the doors of your class at eight sharp, ignoring a couple of intrigued glances from people that were, rightfully so, curious as to why there was a new student this far in the year.

it’s a pretty large group of kids—from the class description, you knew it was a pretty niche course that likely wouldn’t garner that much interest from people who weren’t actually going to pursue a career in the field—so you’re a bit surprised at how full the room is. you find a seat near the front—first impressions matter, you tell yourself—and make yourself comfortable, but not too comfortable.

after all, the last thing you need is to spend the next two hours dozing off.

Keep reading

[keijiskisser]

ripe for the picking | masterlist

pairing: akaashi keiji x f!reader

warnings: 18+, university/frat au, fluff, ANGST so much angst (trust no one), fingering (f!receiving), manipulation/gaslighting, …

a/n: this is my work for @saintobio​’s frat au collab! mayhaps i got carried away and turned my idea into a series…

join the series taglist here!

i. fresh 

warnings: none!

ii. maturing

warnings: none!

iii. ripe

warnings: 18+, fingering (f!receiving), mention of gore but nothing actually gory, light degradation

iv. bruised [ … ]

coming soon…

v. spoiling [ … ]

coming soon…

vi. rotten [ … ]

coming soon…

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production crew

series m.list | general m.list

series m.list | general m.list

fun facts

akaashi has earned himself a no bullshit reputation as a director in the film industry

despite his reputation, his actors all speak very highly of him

kuroo is almost always the male lead in anything akaashi writes

akaashi uses real people as inspiration

yachi is afraid of iwa even though they've been on the same set several times before

a/n okay lets get this thing started

[keijiskisser]

vball bros (+akaashi)

series m.list | general m.list

series m.list | general m.list

fun facts

akaashi isnt sure why hes still in this group chat. he only responds when bokuto calls for him

akaashi has literally never directed an action or sports movie, hes known for romances and dramas. he has tried and failed to write several action movie scripts

akaashi did watch nautical lost. he watches every movie that yn is in

hinata doesn't know that akaashi and yn dated when they were in college. it was kept pretty under wraps

bokuto knows that they dated but not the real reason behind why they broke up.

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iwaizumi's opps

series m.list | general m.list

series m.list | general m.list

fun facts

iwaizumi can literally never catch a break from them

he was on set for a lot of the underwater scenes because prior to the movie yn was not a strong swimmer

oikawa has been trying to help iwaizumi get over his crush on yn for years

95% of the texts in this group is oikawa and kageyama arguing

iwaizumi has been offered several modeling gigs but he always turns them down so he can make sure that yn stays uninjured on set

[keijiskisser]

MY BIGGEST HATERS

series m.list | general m.list

series m.list | general m.list

nautical lost is an action movie with a lot of underwater scenes

yn got several ear infections from the amount of time she spent underwater

kyotani is not a big movie guy

yn swears she still hears waves crashing in her ears when she closes her eyes at night

yn got to know hinata, tsuki, and kiyoko despite going to aoba johsai

kyotani only listens to yn (sometimes) because of iwaizumi

[keijiskisser]

Navigation : midnight records! the starlight EP! haikyuu EP!

── .✦ "IWAIZUMI HAJIME VS. WEDDING" — iwaizumi hajime

a/n : sorry for being inactive!! finally found motivation to write for haikyuu content : post timeskip. iwa crashing out. pre wedding. he’s so in love. seijoh 4. fluff. crack.

Iwaizumi Hajime doesn’t spiral.

He doesn’t pace. Doesn’t panic. Doesn’t start talking just to fill space. He’s the one people lean on. The level-headed one during a crisis.

Which is exactly why the Seijoh 4 are now watching him like he’s a science experiment gone wrong. The groom’s waiting room is too quiet. Tense. The kind of quiet that happens before someone snaps.

Oikawa, back from Argentina just for the wedding, sips sparkling water with the smugness of someone who saw this coming. Matsukawa is filming. Hanamaki looks both entertained and slightly afraid.

And our dear Iwaizumi paces. Mutters something to himself. Then—without warning—drops to the floor and starts doing push-ups in his suit.

Everyone stares.

"Everybody stay calm, he’s spiraling,” Matsukawa says.

“He doesn’t spiral,” Hanamaki replies, blinking. “I’ve never seen him spiral. This feels illegal.”

“I once saw Iwa-chan roll his ankle and tell me to breathe,” Oikawa says, horrified. “This is terrifying.”

“I’m not spiraling,” Iwaizumi mutters, chest nearly kissing the floor. “I’m keeping my heart rate in check.”

Push-up. Push-up. Push-up

“I’m grounding myself. This is tactical. I am not emotionally compromised.”

Push-up.

“She’s gonna look like a goddess and I’m gonna forget how to breathe.”

“What was that?” Oikawa asks.

“I said I’m fine, Shittykawa.” Oikawa blinks. “You haven’t called me that since we were 18. Oh god, he’s malfunctioning.”

Iwaizumi keeps going. “She’s gonna smile. At me. In front of everyone. And I’m gonna cry. I know I’m gonna cry. I can already feel it. It’s sitting right here—” he gestures to his throat, “like a threat.”

He stops and lays flat on the floor. The silence is deafening. “I’ve never seen him like this,” Hanamaki whispers.

“He cried when she said yes, didn’t he?” Matsukawa murmurs. “This is stage two.”

“I didn’t cry,” Iwaizumi says flatly. “I teared up. Briefly.”

“You FaceTimed me,” Oikawa adds. “There were tissues involved.”

“I was sick.”

”You were sniffling,” Oikawa corrects.

“It was February.”

Iwaizumi sits up slowly. “She’s gonna be in a dress. With her hair done. And makeup. She’s gonna walk toward me like she means it and I’m gonna stand there looking like I forgot how knees work. And then I’ll cry. And then she’ll cry. And I’ll ruin everything.”

Oikawa kneels and hands him a water bottle like it’s an offering to a storm god. “You’re in love. That’s not ruining anything.”

“I’m so in love,” Iwaizumi whispers, like a confession. “It’s making me physically ill.”

Hanamaki just nods. “That tracks. We’ve been waiting years for your emotional constipation to catch up.”

“Push-ups aren’t fixing it,” Matsukawa adds. “Try burpees.”

“I will throw up on your shoes.”

There was a knock on the door: “Five minutes.”

Iwaizumi stands. Adjusts his suit. Rolls his shoulders like he’s heading into combat. “I’m marrying my girl. My terrifying, gorgeous, brilliant girl.”

He turns to them, solemn.

“If I cry—don’t say anything.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Hanamaki says.

“If I pass out—don’t catch me.”

“You’re gonna cry in, like, thirty seconds,” Matsukawa grins. “But you’re gonna look shredded in the photos.”

“I better.”

2025 © NANASRKIVES. / do not copy, repost, edit, plagiarize, or translate any of my works on any platforms, including ai.

TAGLIST (OPEN). / @ayatakanosstuff @angelkiyo @honeycrispappletree @itsmeaudrieee

[keijiskisser]

since living is hard, let's just try to survive

[keijiskisser]

⌧ | TEXTS FROM THE DUMPSTER

12: ILY (i love you) ⌦

← previous | back to masterlist

CW! | possible ooc, written in third perspective, mentions of serial killer, murder and sharp objects (its nothing too serious i promise lol), will be a lengthy read (hold on tight)

Lifting his hand to give the door a gentle knock, the soft sound contrasting with the pounding in his chest. Yet, before he could mentally prepare himself — perhaps by clearing his throat softly — the door swung open.

"Ah-"

It was Yachi who answered the door. Her hair was tied up into a messy bun which seemed to have a few loose strands dangling out. There was a recognisable crease between her eyebrows that seemed to have settled there for a while, even before Bokuto arrived.

"Yachi..right?"

Bokuto managed after a while, trying to bring his usual bright cheery smile to his lips, yet the soft crease in Yachi's eyes only served to be an obstacle. Trying to maintain a soothing and bright smile seemed like an impossibly hard attempt on his lips right now.

"Ah yes..and you're..Bokuto?"

She stumbles over her words for a moment, her hands frantically reaching up to tidy her loose bun. A few strands of hair still slips out of her fingertips though, causing little to no difference about her bun previously and now.

Before Bokuto could even give a haste reply or a simple nod, the sound of metal clanging against the ground could be heard, causing both him and Yachi's gaze to immediately follow the noise.

"You- You wanna come in..?"

Yachi voice interrupts, stopping Bokuto's gaze short as he brings his eyes back to look at her, his eyes lying back on the messy bun sitting on the top of her head before gazing down to her brown eyes.

If he wasn't mistaken, there seemed to be a subtle flash of panic within them.

"Ah...sure-!"

Bokuto replies shortly afterwards, following behind Yachi quietly as she quickly walks towards the origin of the noise before.

The dorm seemed to be a mess. From Bokuto's peripheral vision, he could see the kitchen cabinets were all strewn open but nothing was left on the shelves.

Snacks and random tools — screw drivers, a random pair of keys, a broomstick, and bobby pins — were scattered randomly across the floor, almost as if tossed aside without hesitation by someone in a hurry.

Among the flurry of mess stood two figures, one of which Bokuto quickly recognised and another whom he wasn't too sure about. Perhaps he had seen him before, yet no names seemed to surface in his mind that could perhaps match that figure accurately.

"What are you doing, Lev?"

Yachi's frazzled voice cuts in, interrupting Bokuto's thoughts as he tried to figure out who the tall, light grey haired figure was based on his side profile.

"Oh right, he's Lev..."

Bokuto murmured to himself as his eyes drifted back up to the figure whom seemed to have turned his gaze towards them as soon as he caught hold of Yachi's words.

As captivating Lev's seafoam green eyes were to Bokuto, perhaps enough to keep him wondering which foreign country he came from, a sharp glint caught his eye instead.

A sharp glint that belonged to nothing else but an large axe, which Lev held in his hands. The blade of the axe was glimmering under the ceiling light, clearly an indication that it has never been used before.

"I was just trying to break into Yn's room door!"

Lev spoke up finally, a triumph tone evident in his voice. It was clear that he failed to notice how suspicious he looked, holding a sharp axe, in a position that seemed ready to swing at anytime.

"With an axe?"

Yachi exclaims, stepping forward as she attempts to pull the axe out of Lev's hands.

"Well, none of the methods we tried in luring Yn out was working. Including telling her I haven't ate or went to school today at all."

Kenma responds, his figure leaning casually against the nearest wall from Yn and Yachi's room, clearly unbothered to even point out the possible flaws of Lev trying to knock down the room door with an axe.

"You haven't ate, Kenma?"

Bokuto asks, his tone surprised as he picks up the snack littered closest to him on the floor, tossing it to Kenma before he continues with a small smile on his face,

"Have some of these! I really like this snack!"

Despite having tossed it without much warning, Kenma catches the snack packet effortlessly before giving Bokuto a small nod of appreciation.

"So what do you think about this idea, Yachi?"

Lev asks, his chin slightly raised as he looks at Yachi, clearly proud that he came up with this idea on his own accord. His gaze seemed to be expecting a sort of praise or compliment from Yachi, lacking the awareness to notice how appalling as his actions were.

"Absolutely no-!"

However, before she could turn down Lev's idea, her words were soon cut off by the sound of a door creaking open. It was the slightest sound – comparable to the sound of a light drizzle at the brink of daylight – yet it was enough to capture everyone's attention immediately.

Standing by the now ajar door, was a dishevelled looking figure. A light shade of red lined underneath her swollen eyes. It was clear that she had been crying for more than an hour, though not a single tear remained.

A careful thread of silence seemed to be held between them as she continued to stand there, a slight hint of confusion held in her expression.

It wasn't long before the silence was quickly broken with Lev being the first to speak out,

"Is that you, Yn? You look terrible!"

Just like that, the carefully built silence was shattered quickly by a heavy and thick air of tension. Quick nervous glances were exchanged between them, their gazes flickering between one another and Yn.

"It's not like that Yn-! Lev meant you look terrific even for someone who has shut herself in for a couple hours! He pronounced it wrongly, you see..."

Yachi stammers out, a nervous laughter slipping past her lips as she finishes. Her head barely processed any of the words she was spilling from her mouth, desperately only thinking about how she could salvage the situation Lev had caused.

She wouldn't want Yn to slip back into her comfort zone once again. Just when she had finally came out after what seemed like eternity.

"What? I meant what I said. Yn does look quite terrible."

Lev continued stubbornly, not realising the outcome he was ultimately stirring the situation towards.

His words were only earning sharp glares from Yachi, whom was slowly starting to feel exasperated from how quickly Lev was dismissing her efforts in trying to make things better.

"You.."

Yachi begins, huffing out an exasperated breath as she stares at Lev, who continued to give her an oblivious look before shrugging absentmindedly.

Fortunately for Lev, before Yachi could explode from the pent-up emotions she'd been holding in on him — all her nerves, worries, and desperation — Yn cleared her throat slightly, turning everyone's attention back to her.

"It's okay, Yachi. I cried for a couple hours before falling asleep in the room. It's normal that I would look terrible."

She responds softly, a hint of bashfulness in her tone, as she gives Yachi a brief smile of gratefulness.

"I'm glad you're okay, Yn! You didn't reply my texts since the early afternoon!"

Bokuto finally speaks up, internally relieved that the tension in the air was quickly cleared up. As he met Yn's eyes, he felt all awkwardness he'd been feeling internally disappearing like dark clouds in the sky after a rain.

Instead what filled the gaps was a fresh feeling of nervousness. As she met his gaze, it felt like a swarm of butterflies fluttered within his stomach.

She seemed to blink for a moment as her gaze catches his, a look of surprise casting over her face as she swallows slightly. Her lips parted slightly before quickly falling shut once again, all her words were stuck in her throat.

She didn't look that terrible at all. A wave of warmth hit Bokuto's cheeks, painting a light shade of red across them as he became conscious of the thoughts in his head.

"Sinc- Since when were you here?"

Yn's words finally came crashing out of her lips, stumbling over one another clumsily.

She wished she could run back into her room, scramble back into the warmth of her bed and bury her face into her pillow. Yet, her legs stood completely frozen.

The most she could muster was to turn her face away quickly, hiding her swollen eyes from his sight – even if she knew he probably already had a clear view of them – pretending to fix her hair in the process.

"I- Do you want to get a quick breather with me?"

Yn could feel her fingers trembling with excitement as she stepped out onto the front step, following quietly behind Bokuto.

She had no idea what he had planned when he said that simple sentence, yet she found herself anticipating the possible events that could happen with him.

"Here. We're going on a motorcycle ride."

Bokuto responds as he leads her to a black motorbike which almost looks like it was glistening under the distant moonlight. It was practically unscathed and almost new.

Did he not ride it often? Or perhaps he took care of it really well.

Yn thought silently to herself as she took the helmet Bokuto handed to her. He had this wide grin plastered across his face that he seemed to use to hide all the possible nerves he was feeling inside.

"Are you nervous?"

She asks, finally speaking up after a moment of silence as she wears the motorcycle helmet over her head slowly.

His gaze immediately flickers over to her as he hears her words, meeting her eyes almost immediately as she looks up at him. For a moment, his eyes seemed to flash a look of vulnerability before it disappears quickly as he hops onto the motorcycle.

Glancing towards Yn, giving her his usual confident grin before revving the motorcycle engine — the sound much more dramatic and louder than what one would have expected — causing her to break out into a soft, gentle laugh.

"See, I'm not at all nervous! I got this, Yn. So hop on, okay?"

He says, still putting on his confident facade, even when his fingers were slightly trembling nervously as he held onto the motorbike's handles.

With the pace his heartbeat was going, he found himself internally praying his heartbeat wasn't too loud to the point she could hear it from where she was.

He could feel the vehicle shift slightly as she hopped onto the motorcycle, sitting comfortably behind him. With every single bit of self control within him, he tried his best to stop his eyes from shifting towards the rear view mirror so that he could get a glimpse of how she looked as she sat behind him.

Which was perhaps a breath of relief for her as she could feel her face heating up slightly, splattering a shade of pink across her cheeks as she places her hands onto his waist gently.

"Hold on tight..Okay?"

He responds as he feels her hands holding onto his waist, the grip so gentle, it almost felt non-existent. It was hard to make it sound like his voice wasn't breaking into parts, even if he was getting so nervous to the point it felt almost hard to breathe.

"Okay..."

Her soft voice tickles in his ears. It was the first time he had heard her voice so close to his ears, that one word of acknowledgement from her was enough to make the tip of his ears flush slightly.

Unable to resist it any further, he turns around, just slightly, to take a quick glimpse at her.

Her head was turned away from him, her hair dancing slightly along with the cool night wind. She lifted a hand to push a few strands behind her ear gently, slightly revealing her cheeks dabbed with patches of red.

That sight was enough to make Bokuto turn back ahead, his own face blushing slightly now as well. To see Yn's slightly reddened cheeks made his heart skip with excitement, knowing he perhaps wasn't the only one having fluttery jitters within his own heart with how close they were right now.

That perhaps.. she felt the same way. Exactly how he felt.

During the hush of the night air, even though there were little to no words exchanged during the ride — other than the occasional “woahs” from Bokuto when he swerved a little too hard — there was something comforting about the whole ride to the both of them.

It was the subtle fluttering in Bokuto's heart each time he heard Yn's soft laughter to his tiny interjections. The way he sometimes could hear her heartbeat syncing with his.

There was no way he could mistake all of it, even with the sound of the motorcycle engine revving loudly in the background. Every soft sound she made was caught clearly in his ears, easily unforgettable to him.

"Was this your first time riding a motorbike, Yn?"

Bokuto asks, keeping his gaze on the road in front of him — though one could catch his gaze flickering from time to time towards the rear view mirror to look at Yn.

"Yeah."

She replies softly in response, her response surprising Bokuto slightly.

"And you would ride with me...? Even if you've never rode on a motorcycle before?"

"Yeah. I mean..I don't see anything wrong with trusting you."

Those words. Perhaps she had no idea how much it meant to him then, but it was enough to bring a silly grin onto his face.

His heart swelled with pride as he turned around quickly to look at Yn, just a brief glance without any words exchanged, but his expressions was enough to tell her how he felt.

As she caught hold of the gaze in his eyes, she nearly choked on her own breath. His gaze matched one of a golden retrievers', one which seemed to crinkle with delight, glowing like sun peeking through the clouds.

"I'm glad."

He says after a beat of silence. His words making her heart skip a beat without much effort.

"To have your first experience of being on a motorcycle ride."

When the motorcycle finally skids to a stop, he finds himself quickly turning behind to look at her, smiling brightly as soon as he finds her eyes on him.

"You okay? It wasn't that traumatising right?"

He asks as he gazes at her, reaching out to help her unbuckle her motorcycle helmet.

Although the ride had stopped and the adrenaline she had felt from the ride was slowly disappearing, she could still feel her heart hammering in her chest. Nonstop.

"I enjoyed the ride."

She says simply, a small smile settling on her lips as she lifts her eyes to look at him — feeling his gaze immediately drift away from the buckles of her helmet to her eyes.

"Really?"

He asks softly, as though looking for some sort of confirmation from her answer.

"Really."

Hearing her words, he can't help but feel a big smile spread across his lips. He reached up to remove her helmet, trying to look calm and composed in her eyes — even when he was practically holding back from pulling her into a huge, crushing hug to express his happiness.

His fingers trembled with excitement as he removed her helmet gently from her head, keeping his eyes fixed on the helmet even though he could feel her gaze continually fixed on him.

Watching his every move, even after he turns away.

Her gaze was making his palms go sweaty, his fingers felt clammy as he reached up to take off his helmet as well. Even if his grip on the helmet wasn't as firm, it felt as though the helmet would never slip out of his fingers — especially when his fingers felt so sticky.

"This is one of my favourite places to go to when I feel stressed."

He finally responds after a while, letting his words settle into the silence of the night air as he hops off the motorcycle.

However, before he turned away from the motorcycle, he offers a hand towards her, an attempt to assist her in coming down from the motorcycle.

Her gaze drifts down to his outstretched hand for a moment, before taking it gently. He could swore he saw her cheeks flare up when his fingers interlocked with hers.

"Ah- Sorry if it's sweaty."

He adds on quickly, pulling away from her grasp as soon as she successfully hops down from the motorcycle.

Yet before he could turn away to hide his small bashful smile, a soft laugh escapes her lips instead, capturing his attention back to her immediately.

"It's okay. My palms are probably sweaty too."

She says, shaking her head gently before walking ahead. Her steps are gentle and soft against the pavement as she walks. It was almost comparable to the sound of a light drizzle.

He follows along with her, his steps falling in place next to hers as she walks. The sound of their footsteps were rhythmic when placed with each other.

"What would you usually do here?"

She asks, her steps coming to an abrupt pause as she turns around to face him with a small smile.

"Well..I scream out my frustrations here, I guess. Or vent like I am having a conversation with the moon."

He responds, gesturing towards the full moon in the sky ahead of them. In contrast to the chilly breeze that blew at them, the glow of the moon seemed warm and inviting.

She laughs softly, her eyes turning towards the moon as well, her gaze softening slightly as she meets its glow.

"You know.."

She began softly, her eyes tailing away from the moon to meet his slightly. There was still a hint of vulnerability and softness within her gaze, making his heart flutter slightly.

He finds his full body turned towards her, as though ready to give her his full attention.

Was it the vulnerability in her eyes that made it easy for him to want to hear her out so quickly? Or was it the way he wanted to know more about her that made him so readily attentive to everything she wanted to say?

He had no idea too. But he knew then that his interest in her was something he could no longer hide — no matter how much he tried, held back, or resisted.

"There was so much I wanted to say after I came out of my room. But...after the whole ride, I couldn't find the frustration to express my feelings."

She continues softly, her gaze drifting away from his eyes slowly as a soft shade of pink begins to bloom across her cheeks.

"So thank you..for letting me have this tiny breather."

He feels his breath hitch slightly at her words, the fluttering in his stomach becoming clearer each second, almost overwhelming him.

"I- No..I should thank you."

He responds back quickly, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop himself from saying anything.

"I...I really like you a lot so having you accept my invitation, even when you could have stayed at home and vented with your friends...makes me really happy."

His gaze slowly trails up to meet her gradually widened eyes, the colour on her cheeks becoming more obvious as she hears his words.

"Wha..What?"

She begins, stuttering slightly as she glances up at him. She could feel her brain short-circuiting as she hears his words, almost unsure if she even heard him right. "I..like you! Yn!"

He repeats once again, his face almost beetroot red as he turns his gaze back up towards her.

She could feel his gaze expectantly looking at her, perhaps anticipating her response nervously — hoping she'd reciprocate his feelings too.

But she knew that he didn't even need to look at her with that gaze to make her say 'yes'. The answer was already laid out simply for her all along, now just waiting at the tip of her tongue to be said out.

"I like you too..Bokuto.."

a/n: yippee!! we're finally done with this smau omg (I'm crying tears of joy) tbh it's been quite a journey for me — a journey of tears, happiness and pain — to finally get where I am right now :) I don't usually have a lot of commitment level when it comes to writing (unfortunately) so the fact that I made it here in one piece...it's really something !! tysm for reading tftd to the end. while this was not my proudest work, I had so much fun writing some of these chapters and knowing that there are people enjoying my reading (behind all the hard work I've done) maybe I will release after parts to this series (so pls look out for them !!) because ending here feels like something is missing...something like a reaction from the respective friend groups? (yeah I think so too) also if you're looking for the usual fyi's section, I'm sorry they're not here today.. :'< because I have no idea what to add LMAOO

⌗ taglist | @keijiskisser @wyrcan @insanelycooljk @mawenskiblue @cupidsblonde @blueballslock @giocriedpower @phoenix-eclipses @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @anteroz @scarltwitxh @chososneakylinkk

! note: you may fill out this form to be removed/added to the taglist! (for those who are in the taglist already, pls check ur personal settings to make sure you can be added properly!)

[keijiskisser]

omg omg pls share the link that u were talking abt in the tags of this post , weird keiji is sooooo canon to me idc

OFC FELLOW WEIRD KEIJI TRUTHER. here is the link to the tiktok. i love him smmmm awkward keiji is my roman empire 🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️

[keijiskisser]

need an akaashi written ANYTHING where he is his canonically weird-self LIKE BAD PLEASELPLEASLEPELASLEPLEADE i need him a little awkward IM BEGGING

[keijiskisser]

A Deal's a Deal.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, violence against minor characters, descriptions of anxiety, mentions of alcohol. Word count: 5k.

Next

“... Sorry. This one’s no good either.” 

Sighing dejectedly, you sink into your seat. 

You can’t tell if your companion’s disappointed. He maintains a neutral countenance, betraying nothing of his inner thoughts. Still, you study him, awaiting some visual indication before moving the conversation forward. He must sense your intentions, for he catches your gaze and smiles. 

“Should we call it a day? You look tired.” 

“The hell? Isn’t it considered taboo to tell a lady she looks tired?” You grumble. “And here I thought you were Casanova incarnate. You’ve got to work on your charisma stats.” 

Chrollo shrugs halfheartedly. “What point is there if you’re immune to my many charms?” 

“Let’s be real — ‘many’ is overdoing it, a little humility won’t hurt. I commend your budding self-awareness, though. At least we’ve made progress on that front.” 

He hums, offering no rebuttal. You realize that you’ve perked back up, reinvigorated by his goading. He certainly knows how to get people going. Among his defining features, that’s one of the first you recognized; his uncanny way of orchestrating favorable outcomes. 

Sipping your preferred warm beverage, you canvass your surroundings. 

The café’s less crowded than when you came in. There are still a few students typing away on their laptops while consuming a concerning amount of caffeine. In the corner sits an elderly couple, whose order you overheard by virtue of the volume it was placed at — “Give me a regular coffee. Straight black, none of that ‘appaccino, grand venti’ nonsense. Decaf for my wife.” 

(You prayed for the barista’s sanity when he tried explaining the different ways ‘straight black’ could come). 

“... I am losing my touch, aren’t I?” Chrollo murmurs. You snap your head in his direction, having temporarily forgotten his existence. “You prefer older men?” 

You almost choke mid-sip. “Pleh…! That’s it, I’m retiring, good luck sorting your issues out.”

“You don’t mean that.” 

“How I wish you were wrong,” you deadpan. Lifting his phone off the table, you scroll through its contents. There’s nothing new to look at. “An exorcist, huh? You’re positive that’s a real thing?” 

“They exist. They’re just rare, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.” 

“I blame the Protestant Reformation.” 

The skin beneath his eyes wrinkles. “... Cute.”  

His compliment makes you frown. 

“Quit it with the flattery, already.” 

“Flattery implies a degree of insincerity, no?” He challenges. “You of all people should know when I’m being genuine.” 

“You make it sound like I’m a walking polygraph.” 

His lips part and close as he considers his response. “That isn’t how I view you.” 

This guy’s clever with his word choice, you think. Too clever.

Disliking where this conversation might go, you redirect. 

“This ‘Hunter’ site you’ve been using… is there any way for me to access it?”

“Feeling a bit impatient, are we?” 

There’s a patronizing lilt to this tone that has you inhaling sharply. Closing your eyes, you ball your hands into fists, willing your agitated mind to relax. Your goal feels so close. This future you never believed possible dangles above your head, only to recede as if you were Tantalus whenever you grasp for it. Needling Chrollo won’t get you any closer, but at least it gives you something to do, mimicking progress. 

“The Hunter site has various measures in place to prevent account sharing. You don’t want to end up on their radar,” Chrollo retrieves his phone and tucks it into his coat’s pocket. “While your enthusiasm’s admirable, I suggest you leave this part to me.”

You swallow thickly. “... Right.” 

“Are you upset?” 

“No, I’m not,” you rest your hands on your lap. “Just, y’know. Reminded that we’re from two different worlds.” 

Outside the café’s windows, individuals from all walks of life bustle about. Some are on their phones, others chatting with friends, or holding their partner’s hands. It’s a picturesque display of normalcy. They’re likely thinking about what to have for dinner, when to set their alarm for the following day, if they can squeeze out of plans they halfheartedly agreed to over the weekend; you know this because you aspire to live the same way. 

“You’re closer to mine than you think.” 

A fervent disagreement blazes then turns to ash on your tongue. There’s an unidentifiable quality to his stare — neither kind nor outright malicious — almost clinical in its effort to elicit a reaction. You stir in your seat. Despite your time together, he’s as much an enigma as he’d been upon your first meeting. Charming and courteous, yet lacking genuine warmth, like a faux candle. 

“Do you get some kick out of riling me up?”

“Maybe a little,” he admits. “Your expressive nature is endearing. I can’t help myself.” 

His words resonate with such clarity that you can’t help but wish he’d been a little dishonest. 

“I’m not a toy for you to entertain yourself with.” 

His smile makes you squirm. 

“I know you aren’t.” 

“Then what—” you cut yourself off, fearing what might occur if you continue your original line of questioning. “Man, you’re exhausting to deal with. Has anyone ever told you that you have an awful personality?” 

“Few get to be around me enough to comment on its quality.” 

“I’m counting down the days until I’m no longer a member of that inner circle.” 

Before Chrollo can respond, his phone audibly vibrates. Newfound excitement overwhelms you at the sound. He glances at the notification and nods, confirming your speculation. He places it in your eager hands. While you prepare, he steeples his fingers and leans forward, intrigued as always with your work. 

You relax your breathing. This entire process is based on intuition, chasing after faint sensations until your desired outcome manifests. A pliable force thrums through you — what Chrollo refers to as ‘aura’ — awakening from its dormant state. Mindful of your public surroundings, you keep your dominant hand beneath the table. Where there was once nothing, a three-dimensional object rests snugly against your palm. Buttons of varying utility jut outward along its perimeter. This small item, shaped like a cassette recorder, stirs antipathy in your heart. 

Holding down rewind, the cassette whirrs to life. You prepare to record the latest audio note sent in for analysis. 

Instant Replay (One More Time!).

These past few months have seen your ability frequently leveraged. It was your personal conviction to refuse its use, lest paranoia eat away at you. However, freedom from this bondage necessitates further entanglement. You’ve parted with your long-standing morals, primed to pick through the syllables of others for your own purposes. 

Right and wrong no longer concern you. 

All you care about is surrendering this loathsome ability to the man sitting across the table. 

-

The night air is unforgiving in its chill. It infiltrates your layers of clothing with laughable ease, seeping into your marrow and demanding that you shiver as recompense. Gritting your teeth, you pick up your pace, cursing the parking garage’s elevator for being out of order. You knew parking at your friend’s apartment complex was sparse, but this is a new record. 

The heels of your shoes click against the concrete staircase as you rapidly ascend. A pale, yellowish hue illuminates your path, the lights occasionally flickering. The moon must be feeling shy tonight, for it hides behind thick, stationary clouds, refusing the world its silvery guidance.

Upon arriving on the third floor, you hear an ominous crackle in the distance. 

The consequences are immediate. Intuition tells you to pause, goosebumps erupting over your flesh from head to toe. Darkness swallows your surroundings whole in inky blots. Blinking rapidly, your eyes struggle to adjust. You feel around for your phone and turn the flashlight on. The sudden loss of power perplexes you, did the building’s breaker trip? From what you can see, the rest of the street is unaffected. 

You’re about to resume your journey when you feel something cold press against your temple. 

“Don’t move,” a deep voice demands. The roar of a car’s engine echoes nearby, as does the hurried screech of tires. “Not so much as a fucking inch.” 

Anxiety sets your every nerve aflame. You go stiff as a corpse, and perhaps you may have been mistaken for one, if not for the thunderous pounding of your heart. The moisture in your mouth dries up. Tortuous seconds drag on, devoid of any further commands. You’re ready to offer up your purse, wallet, or anything else he insists on, but he’s eerily silent. 

A pair of approaching headlights blind you. 

Is this more than a robbery? You struggle to comprehend the nightmarish events. The man holding you hostage radiates agitation, shifting his weight from foot to foot. In doing so, the barrel drags along your sweat-slicked skin. His apparent sloppiness has you weak in the knees — it’s your life hanging in the balance, why is he acting like the situation is reversed? 

Abruptly, the vehicle veers off course, crashing into a line of parked cars. A terrible cacophony follows. Glass shatters, metal debris shrieks whilst scattering, and car alarms angrily sound in disunity. What you’re witnessing doesn’t feel like real life. Your disbelief is mutual, for the man holding you captive spews curses.

You hear a click by your side; the gun’s safety being disengaged. 

“Shit!” He maneuvers you in the direction of the crash like you’re a shield. “There’s no way we were followed, no way, we did everything perfect—” 

The man never finishes his sentence. 

There’s a wet gurgle, then a wheeze, as something warm splatters on you from behind. Bile rises up your throat as the wretched noises continue. He must’ve fallen to the ground, for you no longer sense his lumbering presence, or feel the cold kiss of metal on your skin. Regardless, you refuse to budge. You squeeze your eyes shut and tremble wildly. 

“There, there. You’re safe now. ♥” A rich baritone speaks from behind. 

His declaration comes out discordant, belying the reassuring contents. You bristle at the new threat that’s presented itself. If what came before was a house cat, then this is an apex predator, the king of the jungle. The air around him feels oppressive, almost noxious. Even without a firearm directed at you, your panic reaches its zenith, soaring to heights untraversed. 

“Hm? Still scared? Ah, that’s right,” he muses to himself. “Chrollo said you’re sensitive to dishonesty. This could be troublesome.” 

“You… you know Chrollo?” 

“So you’re not in a catatonic state — how reassuring.” 

Slowly, you turn around, sensing a distinct lack of ill intent. Flashlight in hand, you try to make sense of what you witness. The scene that greets you is gruesome beyond your wildest expectations. The man who you assume held you at gunpoint has collapsed onto the ground, his jugular slit clean. Blood gushes from the wound like a geyser, forming a crimson puddle around his head. His eyes are wide, bloodshot, nearly bulging from the sockets. Liquids ooze from every visible orifice and a foul odor rises alongside them. This pitiful creature could’ve been your end. Instead, he met his, departing this world in abject terror. 

Unexpectedly, his muscles twitch. Out of reflex, you jump back and yelp. 

“Rest assured, he’s dead as a doornail.” 

“Why…” you wet your dry lips, “What… what just…?” 

While you stumble over your words, the building’s power makes a triumphant return. The lights flash intermittently, then go steady, allowing you an unobscured vantage point. Before you stands a tall, bizarrely dressed individual, with bright red hair. His beady, yellow eyes have a predatory gleam to them that he doesn’t bother suppressing. He holds a playing card in his claw-like hands, the three of spades. 

It’s coated in fresh blood. 

Your eyes fall to the fatal wound on your assailant's throat, the gears in your head turning. 

You take a step back. 

“Let’s try this again, shall we?” With a flick of his wrist, the offending card disappears, though its memory burns strong. “I’m Hisoka, Chrollo’s… colleague of sorts. Now, there’s no need to introduce yourself. I’m well acquainted with you. ♥” 

Is that supposed to make you feel better? 

You couldn’t hide your suspicion if you tried. At the very least, there’s no indication that was a lie. However, his familiarity with you is a double-edged sword. If he’s crafty, he can outmaneuver your ability. Dishonesty isn’t black and white, there are loopholes to avoiding your detection. For instance, one can remain purposefully oblivious, lie by omission, or speak in vague terms. These gray areas pass you by as if you lacked this ‘sixth sense’ to begin with. 

He was lying when he said I’m safe now, you recall. But he doesn’t seem interested in harming me…? Something isn’t adding up.

After much deliberation, you ask, “So you just happened to run into me?” 

“Nope. I’ve been following you,” he freely admits. Your aghast expression makes him laugh. “What’s the matter? You were baiting me for the truth, were you not? You’re welcome to have it. ♦” 

In your heightened state of sensitivity, you sense multiple presences converging nearby. Security guards, if you had to guess. You weigh your options. If you stay here, you’ll undoubtedly be harassed for a story that explains the chaos. Telling the truth would land you in a straight jacket whereas deception guarantees cuffs. Leaving in your car is off the table too, you’d be dubbed an important witness. There’s no way you can claim you drove by the carnage without noticing anything. 

“I can help get you out of this debacle,” he offers. “We’re both seeking the same end — the return of Chrollo’s Hatsu. The latest recording I’ve obtained is most promising. So, I’d rather we don’t continue this conversation in prison. ♣” 

Hisoka takes a step forward and extends his hand.

The security guards are getting closer, you think. There’s no time left.

And so you make your choice. 

-

You didn’t think places like these existed outside of the movies, or maybe you just don’t get around enough. 

You’ve found yourself in what you can only describe as a biker’s bar. The decor is old-fashioned, slightly worn yet authentic. There are pool tables, too many televisions to count, and a functioning jukebox nestled in the corner. Rough-looking men wearing leather jackets make up the main clientele. Fortunately, it’s Hisoka who draws the most attention, his gaudy getup acting as a magnet for the eyes. No one pays you any mind. 

For the second time this week, a weirdo treats you to drinks. The main difference is that this is a depressant and not a stimulant. 

You take hearty sips to calm your nerves. All that happened feels so surreal, like a collection of grotesque images that would be blurred out in a documentary. This is exactly what you wanted to avoid. You want to be normal, untethered by the oddity that is Nen, the ‘world’ Chrollo inhabits. You decided long ago that nothing good can come from it. Maybe if you were more adventurous, prone to taking high risks for high rewards. 

But you’re not. 

Endless money, power, and influence don’t sound appealing. Sure, there’s an allure initially, until you consider reality. Lots of money means either lots of taxes or lots of tax evasion. You barely know what a W-2 form is, much less the hoops you’d have to jump through if your income exploded. Power and influence aren’t all they’re cracked up to be either. All that scheming to stay at the top would take away from what makes life truly worth living — reading Wikipedia articles and watching eight-hour-long videos analyzing a video game from two decades ago. 

“Holy shit,” you press pause on the cassette recorder. “This Abengane guy’s the real deal.” 

“Oh?” 

“He’s familiar with getting rid o’ Nen. During his… huh, what’s it called again… oh. Yeah. Audition. Durin’ his audition for Greedy Island—” 

“ —Greed Island.” 

You wave his correction off. 

“—Yeah, yeah, whatever. But, basically, he’s legit. How’d ya even come across this?” 

“Magic. ♥” 

You make a face. “Is everyone who uses Nen annoying?” 

“Some more than others.” 

Speak of the devil. Craning your neck, you’re met with piercing gray eyes. Unlike Hisoka, Chrollo isn’t dressed like he’s auditioning for the circus. Instead, he comes across as a guy who’s going to pitch the worst idea for a startup you’ve ever heard. He’s wearing a dark blazer with a gray turtleneck beneath it, along with white pants and black loafers. You’re about to make your joke known when something about Chrollo’s demeanor changes your mind. Intensity pours off him in waves, giving you pause. 

“Good news, boss. We found your exorcist.”

The title Hisoka uses to refer to him has you tilting your head. He did refer to himself as Chrollo’s ‘colleague,’ but the word boss implies hierarchy. 

“I heard,” Chrollo smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m surprised you’re not rushing back to Greed Island to track him down.” 

He slides into the booth beside you while never looking away from Hisoka. The tension brewing in the air perplexes you. Shouldn’t this news be a cause for celebration? You’ve helped Chrollo search for a Nen exorcist for months now. Chrollo’s been searching for a Nen exorcist for months now. You’re uncertain what reaction you expected, but it certainly wasn’t this. 

“All in due time. I’d hate to cut my time with your little assistant short.”

Hisoka makes a point of looking you up and down. 

Somehow, Hisoka has made Chrollo seem normal by comparison. Disliking the attention, you reach for your drink, only to notice how light it is. Have you already drunk that much? While inspecting the near-empty glass, you realize the room’s starting to feel warm. The stress of what you endured must’ve impaired your judgment. 

What time is it, anyway? Do I have work tomorrow? 

Your watch reads 2:05 a.m.

Shit. 

“I need— need to get going…” 

“Why the rush?” Hisoka questions. “Things were just starting to get interesting. ♥” 

You ignore him and stare Chrollo down, waiting for him to move aside so you can leave. Instead of getting up, he leans closer, pursing his lips. This is the closest you’ve ever been to him. Heat creeps over your face, from your cheeks to your ears. There’s no denying that the bastard’s handsome. Your friends love teasing you about him for that very reason. They never believe your insistence on having a ‘strictly platonic’ relationship, some even have bets for when you’ll end up together. 

Maybe you would’ve considered it if you didn’t know about his Nen proficiency. 

There aren’t any readily available statistics for Nen, but if you had to guess, you’d say most of the population is ignorant of its existence. People who do know about the Hunter’s Association consider it a private enterprise that specializes in exploration and taking on contract jobs. According to Chrollo, this is by design. You can barely go about your day pretending there aren’t superhumans roaming the planet, doing all sorts of crazy nonsense. 

Society would plunge into chaos if the knowledge reached them. 

You hear what sounds like your name coming from underwater. 

Blinking sluggishly, you discover Chrollo’s hand on your shoulder. “Hm? What?” 

“I’ve been calling your name,” he speaks languidly, likely for your benefit. “Are you alright?” 

“Well…” you trail off, pondering the question. “... Mm, yeah, probably not. I gotta get home, and— god, my car— it’s still back there. I don’t want… I can’t…” 

The anxiety you thought you buried resuscitates itself. It’s dull compared to earlier, yet your breathing grows shallow and your hands feel clammy. Your intenses churn like a parasite had been embedded inside. Everything feels far away, as if you’re in a dream, physically present yet mentally adrift. 

You could’ve died. 

You almost died. 

You’d fought desperately to scrub your mind of this knowledge, but the bottle can only do so much. 

“Say, Chrollo,” with a nearly imperceptible motion, Hisoka summons a playing card between his middle and pointer fingers. “If I were to slice her pretty neck, what would you do?”  

The old-fashioned glass Hisoka had been sipping from cracks. 

Pressure invades the air like a thick, heady fog, so tangible in its potency, that the chatter elsewhere dies down. The sudden silence allows for the clinging of billiard balls to reverberate throughout. Patrons glance around, vaguely aware that something is wrong, yet ultimately unable to identify the source. This primal sense of foreboding evaporates as swiftly as it arrives. The lively atmosphere reemerges, until all present seem to have forgotten anything unusual ever occurred. 

Hisoka absentmindedly cleans up the glass shards, piling them into the corner while Chrollo drums his fingers along the table. Chrollo’s jaw is set and the skin between his eyes is pinched in contemplation. 

Hisoka lets out an exaggerated sigh. “This is turning into a bore. I was confident you’d lose your cool, even if just a bit…” 

“Pathetic.” 

The unexpected vitriol has them both turning their heads in your direction. Chrollo blinks, while Hisoka tilts his head, staring at you owlishly. 

He points to himself. “Me?” 

“Yeah, you! You’re like— one of those birds, those showoff birds… dancing with your colorful feathers… ‘nd stuff…” your speech isn’t the most coherent, unaided by the irritation that’s boiling your blood. You leer at him, fed up with everything, especially whatever schemes he’s roped you into. A rough picture is presenting itself, one stroke at a time. To Hisoka, you’re nothing more than glorified bait. You don’t know if he played a role in engineering the evening’s events, but it wouldn’t be a surprise. 

At the very least, he admitted to following you. Even if he was a third party, he could’ve disposed of the impending threat. Instead, he waited, exposing you to bloodshed for his own ends. You wish you could come up with a more scathing insult. Unfortunately, your temple is throbbing and clear enunciation grows harder as your body digests the liquor you inhaled. 

Hisoka looks at Chrollo. “I’m a bird?” 

“She’s calling your bluff,” Chrollo clarifies. “Had you intended to follow up on your threat, she’d know.” 

You’re glad Chrollo realized what you were going for. The diatribe sounded better in your head. Nonetheless, he’s communicated the essence of things, lacking as it is in panache. Hisoka hums, eyeing you like you’d make for a fine appetizer before the main course. 

“You must have kept that detail from me on purpose. What an intriguing ability. ♥” 

Chrollo brushes aside his comment and refocuses his attention on you. “I’ll drive you home.” 

“But my car—” 

“I’ll handle it,” Chrollo reassures. 

He slides out from the booth and stares at you expectantly. You get the sense that trying his patience isn’t a good idea; his encounter with Hisoka must have soured his mood. He helps steady you as you stand, securing his arm behind your back. Neither of you acknowledges Hisoka while making for the door, though you can feel his eyes tracking your every movement. 

Upon emerging from the bar, the cool air you deplored earlier feels like a godsend. You hear cars rushing up and down the street, indicating the presence of a highway. Other than that, you don’t recognize the area. It’s a small, decrepit outlet, featuring shops plastered with neon signs and bars over the windows.

Chrollo ushers you in the direction of a black, unmarked McLaren.

“If you’re gonna do all that, at least get a less basic color… like pink…” 

“I’ll give it some thought.” 

Once you’re in the passenger seat, he fixes the strap of your purse and then buckles you in. It isn’t long until you’re on the road. He stays in the slow lane, mindful to avoid abrupt motions. You recline back and rest your head, hugging your arms close to your body. At the next red light, he sheds his coat, draping it over your person. The cashmere fabric is soft on your skin, embedded with his cologne and warmth. This, paired with the low hum of the engine has your eyelids growing heavy. You try resisting the temptation. 

“Thank you.” 

“Hm? For what?” 

“... Are you serious?” you murmur. “For comin’ to get me.” 

“Of course.” 

Relief rushes over you as the surrounding area becomes recognizable. Traffic is nonexistent this time of night, it shouldn’t be but a few more minutes until you’re home. Then you can crash out on your bed and deal with the existential weight of reality in the morning. Work can fire you for all you care, you just want to sleep. If you were on your deathbed, you’re ninety percent positive they’d ask you to find shift coverage before you croaked. 

Chrollo pulls into your apartment complex, parking as close to the entrance as he can. 

You fiddle with your seatbelt, intending to make the rest of the trip by yourself.

He places his large, calloused hand over yours, preventing further progress. 

“... Chrollo?” 

He doesn’t respond. His thumb rubs slow, steady circles against your skin. You swallow a growing lump in your throat. He hasn’t been himself all night. Or, to be more precise, he’s showing you a side of himself he’s hitherto kept hidden. You always knew there was more to him than he let on. You never wanted to open that Pandora's box, lest your plans be jeopardized. Playing with fire has its risks, yet cauterizing your personal wounds took priority. You don’t know if you have the right to pray the rest of your being doesn’t go up in flames. 

“I assume you’re aware of my fondness for you?” 

“I— well…” you stumble over your words, then meekly ask, “Is now really a good time for this?” 

Chrollo lowers his head and smiles. “No, I suppose not.” 

An uncomfortable silence hangs in the air. 

“One more question, then I’ll let you go,” he looks up at you through thick lashes, an enigmatic gleam passing over his eyes. “Do I frighten you?” 

Your body tenses. He addresses you so softly, so sweetly, had you not witnessed his mouth moving, you would’ve mistaken his voice for belonging to another. Your facilities aren’t functional enough to properly process his query. Perhaps that’s the point — him cornering you at this vulnerable junction. You don’t get why. You don’t think you could even if you were sober. 

Chrollo, for his part, seems to acknowledge he won’t get far in your current state.

Or maybe he gleaned his answer.

He lifts your hand to his lips, where he presses a lingering kiss. You can’t bring yourself to be the first to pull away. He lingers a while longer, as if stuck in a trance. When he does part, the skin tingles in his absence.

“I’ll be in touch.” 

-

For the past week, you’ve carried on as if nothing ever happened. 

It’s easier this way. There are instances where your performance is threatened, like when you ran across a news article detailing the ‘grisly murder of two men at a parking garage on 9th St,’ yet these lapses can be smoothed over. Ignore, distract, forget. This cycle lends you a credence of normalcy and eases you back into everyday life. 

You haven’t seen Chrollo since that night. You suppose he’s preoccupied with his arrangements to meet the Nen exorcist. While you don’t know the specifics, you imagine he’ll have to meet this Abengane in person. In the recording, he addressed two men — named Battera and Tsezguerra — where he proved himself qualified to enter ‘Greed Island.’ Aside from a few anonymous forums, information on this mythical game is sparse. All you know is that the price is exorbitant and that Battera obsessively tracks down every copy available. 

Wherever there’s Nen, things inevitably get weird, you think.

You begin tidying up your apartment. First is drying off the dishes, which saw their first use all week for a much-needed home-cooked meal. While doing so, your phone vibrates. You throw the damp rag down in a hurry and check the screen. All you find is a notification about your upcoming menstrual cycle. Sighing, you put your phone down on the counter. 

Chrollo had been truthful when he promised to take your Hatsu for assisting in the return of his. A part of you is relieved by his absence; the other is frustrated. You want to get this over with. It’s like when you have an appointment later in the day and spend the time leading up to it in a limbo, not wanting to get involved in anything until the commitment is over. Is it possible he already took it? Curious, you hold your dominant hand out. You haven’t used Instant Replay since the night at the biker’s bar. 

Aura surges through you, concentrating at the palm of your hand. Much to your disappointment, the light pink cassette tape appears. Maybe it no longer works? As a test, you rewind the recording of the audio Chrollo provided at the café. Once primed, you press play, listening attentively for certain cues. 

“It is my great honor to profess that I, Lilith, can purge you of any ailment, even scourges derived from Nen — for a small donation of…” 

The self-proclaimed Mistress of Panaceas sounds increasingly garbled as her lies surface. Clicking your tongue, you deactivate your ability. Everything remains operational. You don’t know what you expected, you’ve overheard the telltale sounds of lying the past few days. It just hasn’t been directed at you, which weakens the effect. 

Will you really have to endure this the rest of your life? 

Shortly into resuming your task, there’s a knock at your door. 

You ignore it, not in the mood to deal with a neighbor asking for something. After thirty or so seconds, there’s another round of knocking. You suppress a groan. Why can’t the world sense that you’re moody and let you brood in peace? Trudging over, you try to put on a pleasant face, unwilling to lash out on others even if you’re in a terrible mood. Erring on the side of caution, you glance out the peephole. 

Upon doing so, you almost lose your balance.

…

He must’ve decided he kept you waiting long enough.

[keijiskisser]

⌧ | TEXTS FROM THE DUMPSTER

11: IMHO (in my humble opinion) ⌦

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CW! | mentions of failure, slight angst

The sound of your lecturer's voice could be heard in the background as you stare at your feet, your head hung low, drooping towards the ground. Your vision continues to blur slowly, your eyes slowly unable to make out where the shoelaces of your sneakers were. The white laces slowly merge with the colour of your black sneakers. "Is this really your best work, yn?" Those words continue to ring in your ear as you blink away the tears held around your eyes slowly.

"Sorry, you're in the way.." A voice speaks up from behind you but your feet remain rooted to the ground unable to shift from wherever you are. The only images that fill your mind, even as you close your eyes, are just the look of disappointment your lecturer shoots you. Was it really that bad? You think silently to yourself, clenching your fists tightly against your sides. The stack of neatly stapled pieces of paper, you held between your fingers, of all your neatly scribbled drafts and ideas started to crumple slightly beneath your tight grasps. All the effort poured into one piece... The excitement you felt when you thought of the idea after hours of mind mapping and swiping through the photos you took during the Ikea trip. The soft hums of joy that you released from your lips as you scribbled down all your ideas into the paper.

Yet, now the only sounds that could be heard audible from your lips were the sounds of your choked back tears and slow swallows. "Sorry, did you-" But before the girl from behind you could speak up again about how you were in the way once more, you turn on your heel, heading straight towards your lecturer's desk once again. Your shoulders bump against the girl's gently as you walk back towards the lecturer's desk. For a quick second, the two of you catch each other's gaze, hers reflecting something close to sympathy and yours just a reflection of hurt. A small scoff of denial escapes your lips before you continue ahead, blinking away her gaze of sympathy. You don't need her sympathy. You just want your lecturer's approval for the work you've spent days aggravating over. Not some stupid sympathy from a classmate who possibly scored higher than you for this assignment. "Yn, what's wrong now?" Your lecturer asks, pushing up his glasses slightly as he glances up at you. For a moment, his gaze seemed to flicker with a look of annoyance. After all, he just dismissed all your hard work in two simple sentences previously, didn't he? Why were you back for more? "Could you please look at my submission again, sir?" You ask, your voice holding a soft begging note within it. Begging him to not dismiss your submission so easily once again. "I worked really hard on it.." You continue softly, your gaze lifting from the clean surface of his white desk to meet his eyes. Not even a single inch of annoyance seemed to be wiped away from his gaze. He still had the same look of disappointment from when he had first taken a look at your project. But before all the courage you had taken to beg for the piece of work you refused to believe could be so easily dismissed by your lecturer disappeared simply by his cold gaze, your hands place the now slightly crumpled stack of papers onto the table once again. "Just anoth-" But before you could even finish your sentence, the sound of your lecturer's scoff cuts in. Just that simple sound was enough to make your heart drop and your opened mouth closed once more. "Everyone spent time and effort on their work, yn. Not just you." He says as he takes off his glasses, placing them gently on the desk before he looks up at you once more. You feel your gaze immediately drop from his as he looks up at you once more. You didn't even have to take a second glance into his eyes to tell that he wasn't reviewing through your work again. The simple action of him taking off his glasses was enough to tell you that he wasn't even giving another glance at your submission. He did that all the time. Every time he wasn't going to take a second look at a student's work, because it wasn't worth the effort to him. Just that this was the first time he had done that for one of your works. Perhaps he had said more words after that simple sentence of dismissal but with all the overwhelming feelings in your heart, you could no longer pick up anything else after.

a/n: sorry guys if this took so long...I was so unmotivated for so long but I finally did it !! (insert celebratory noises) also huge creds to the ppl who made the haikyuu memes on pinterest (I did not make them but they were silly) ✎ fyi!

once yn reached their dorm, she basically shut herself in the room (refusing to come out or reply any knocking & texts) until she felt better

since yachi & yn shared a room (mentioned in idk where but I rmb I mentioned it somewhere back in the chapters) she basically couldn't access her stuff in the room in the meantime yn crashed out (so no fresh set of clothes to change into after shower btw)

yachi was DEVASTATED about that (she feared she would have to be smelly until the next day) but she was really understanding about yn's emotional breakdown

she practically sat outside yn's door for who knows how long talking her out of her breakdown like a therapeutic mother to an emotional & angsty teenager

yachi +100 aura points for all that (we stan supportive friends)

bokuto did not learn the motorbike as smoothly as Kuroo expected btw (he had troubles remembering certain steps and had to be constantly reminded #problems of a short attention span person)

did he get it in the end? find out in the next chapter (insert smug looking emoji here)

⌗ taglist | @keijiskisser @wyrcan @insanelycooljk @mawenskiblue @cupidsblonde @blueballslock @giocriedpower @phoenix-eclipses @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @anteroz @scarltwitxh @chososneakylinkk

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[keijiskisser]

WHY YOU SHOULD WRITE HORRIBLY:

1. You’ll never write anything if you don’t