#pathetic attempt at a background too but i was sooo in love i did it for him

[blasphelle]

old art <3

[justanartdork]

Did I ever formally introduce this hoe??? I don't think so, or my brain is just that fucked-

Anyway, this is a Dragon demon gal I waste too much time on-

Sooo

Name: Shakira (No, not that one-)

Age: 16-17

Height: 5'6"

Gender: Female

Species: Dragon demon, somehow-

Sexual Orientation: Pansexual, she loves everyone-

Cause Of Death: Got caught in a hose fire and burned alive

Abilities: Well, since she's a goddamn dragon, she can quite obviously fly, turn into an actual dragon (Albeit only the size of a Liger) and breathe fire from her mouth, up to about ten yards. She can also heat up her hands and arms to temperatures hot enough to leave a nasty ass burn. But, it has it's drawbacks, like breathing fire too much will strain her throat and she probably won't speak for a few days at most. Now, despite being pretty fucking powerful by sinner standards, her powers are pretty limited seeing as she's actually just pretty pathetic for a Dragon. She rarely ever uses her abilities, and when she does, it's often not for anything useful, Ex: Using her body heating for frying bacon and eggs on her arms. But, when she does use it for something useful, like fighting, she can probably some serious dragon damage-

Personality: She's kind of a dummy. Well, less of a dummy, and more of just way too optimistic about a lot of things. She's the type to say things will get better while everything's being fucking ripped to shreds in the background. Another thing is that she's pretty dependent on others, and is 100% a devoted. If someone she trusted told her to jumb off a cliff and not even attempt to save herself, she'd probably do it in a heartbeat, until they cross a personal line.

Likes: Flying, Culinary, dancing, pancakes, her family, her siblings, stories, music, churros, warm blankets, swimming, sweater dresses, collecting things, cleaning

Dislikes: Her dad, Cold ass things, heat exhaustion, sadness, being yelled at, dissapointing her family, secrets, being alone, loneliness, don't leave her alone, she has sone serious autophobia, circuses, popcorn

Background: Once upon a time, she was born in Louisiana in the late 90s, And her childhood was fairly normal, if you take away her asshole dad. And, here's around the time her life just about goes to shit. To make a long story short, her dad gets shot, she helps burn the body, her mom dies a year later from a disease, she burned down one of her bully's houses with them in it out of grief, and then her own house catches on fire with her in it, and she died. Upon entering hell, and a bunch of shit involving a crazy circus later, she gets adopted by an overlord and is now living her best afterlife.

Any other information: Sheeeeeee can be a bit of a fucking hoarder. Once she sees something she likes, she keeps it and refuses to get rid of it for years on end.

Well, that was a fucking essay full of this dummy-

Have a swell time folks, I'm gonna go sob in a corner now-

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Somebody Else ~ Part 4

SOOO, I got inspired last night and ended up starting/finishing the next update. I hope you enjoy it and stay tuned for the next part! I have excellent plans for a few more chapters. Feedback is always welcomed! 

Angel Reyes x Reader/ Ezekiel Reyes x Reader 

Word Count: 1.6k 

CATCH UP HERE

Warnings: language, general angst, brother jealousy 

Translations 

He estado mejor: I’ve been better.

Estás preciosa: You are beautiful.

Por que, mi amor: Why, my love?

Vigila tu espalda hermanito: Watch your back, little brother. 

-------------------------------------

She knew he was here before she ever heard the knock at the front door. It had been fourteen pathetic days since she asked him to leave her alone and he walked away. Her body tinged with anxiety mingling through her nerves, she wasn’t ready for this to see him. Y/N gaze shifted when she heard the inevitable sound of a motorcycle turning onto the street, Y/N reluctantly braced herself against the counter trying to find any courage still residing within her. The door rattled open as the cool air found residence on her skin, Angel Reyes was a goddamn Adonis. 

“Hey Ba-.. Y/N. ¿cómo estás?”  

Angel stepped closer to her immediately causing Y/N to recoil, her new-found courage evaporating into momentary fear. When he noticed her hesitation his right hand unknowingly found home atop his heart as he gently rubbed at the aching spot. Angel felt his heart break all over again. ‘This was all your fault’ constantly replayed on an infinite loop as a haunting reminder, ingraining itself into his daily thoughts. Why did Adelita get under his skin? How did he stray from the one girl who’s remained by his side since the very beginning?

“He estado mejor.” Apprehension lingered in the room; unhappiness etched its way into the bare concrete walls. The air maintained a stagnant, stale, and smothering ambiance. But if she knew one thing for sure it was her undeniable energy with Angel even when he the cause of her heartbreak.

“Estás preciosa. I miss y—” Suddenly, she stormed towards him firmly placing her soft hands over his smooth lips effectively cutting him off mid-sentence.

“Cut the bullshit, Angel. Have you talked to her since we broke up?” Her ocean blues were glazed with unshed tears as she impatiently awaited his response unsure if she was actually prepared for the answer. Even on Y/n’s deathbed she would never admit it aloud, but some deeply rooted and fucked up piece of her yearned to be by his side once again, and that terrified her more than raising their unborn child.

Seconds crawled by before a tear slid down Y/N’s blushed cheek. Angel’s muteness was more than enough of a response to her question. She was officially an idiot…again.

Y/N’s lip quivered with melancholy; her pulse raced against her skin; her once quick-witted tongue momentarily muzzled as defeat seeped into her very core.

“I need to stop imagining situations in my head that aren’t going to happen.”

Once more Angel attempted to close the gap between them slowly inching her way. She was so close he could almost graze his fingertips against her freckled skin. Too focused to comprehend his surroundings, Angel neglected to hear the tiny whimper leave Y/N. Her hand placed defiantly in front of her frame halting his movements. “Please, stop. Don’t come any closer.”

“¿Por que, mi amor? His breathe tickled along her jawline causing her spine to shiver. Angel was a man of many skills. He so desperately wanted to push the loose tendrils of her blue hair and look into her eyes. They always reflected nothing but the honest truth, it was her God-given power and imminent downfall. But Y/N refused him forgoing his selfish whims.

“When I think of our love, I think of pain, and that shouldn’t be so. But I love you so much. That’s what makes this next part so tricky.” Stay strong, Y/N.  

The fire blazing in her dark and injured heart seemed to glow around her like an unwavering flame. She loved him because Angel had seemingly brought her back to life. She had been like a lonely caterpillar in a cocoon, and he had drawn her out and shown her that she was a butterfly. Then he proceeded to rip off her delicate wings.

“Is there something you’re not telling me, Y/N?” He was losing her. There was no absolutely doubt in his mind.

“Goodness can be found sometimes in the middle of hell, Angel. I’d say this is pretty fucking close, wouldn’t you agree?... I’m pregnant.” Y/N shuddered as air rushed past her lips releasing itself from the confines of her lungs.

Shock radiated every neuron in his entire body suddenly feeling himself come alive. Suddenly Angel was hyper-acute of the stunning figure in front of him. The edges of his vision darkened as blood rushed throughout his ears. It reminded him of the first time he heard the ocean; distressingly peaceful.

“Angel, you, uh, look a little pale. I think you need to sit down.” Still lost in translation, Y/N reached for his forearm guiding him towards the kitchenette chair. Stagnant electricity remained claustrophobically between the duo. She kneeled against the cold tile finally at eye level since he walked in.

“I’m sorry for coming in and fucking up your life. I never meant for things to get so fucking twisted. You have to believe me, Y/N. You are genuinely the best gal I’ve ever had the pleasure to call mine. Never forget that.”

A sad smile graced her lips, her muscles pulsated with uneasy energy. “That doesn’t change the fact that you want her. It was my fault, I fooled myself into ever believing I was your end game.” Her gentle hands rested on his dark denim jeans rubbing small circles all while subconsciously soothing his anxiety, allowing him the luxury of simply inhaling some much-needed air. Even after he dumped her, abandoned her for his interest in another dangerous woman filled with her own deceitful secrets, Y/N still somehow grounded him.

“Every morning, I wake up and forget just for a second that it all happened. But once my eyes open, it buries me like a murderous landslide of sharp, sad rocks. Once my eyes pry themselves open, I’m heavy, like there’s too much gravity on my heart. I’ve been in love with you my whole life but I think it’s time for me to walk away. For good, this time. I’m ... letting you go. Consider yourself free.”

Y/N pivoted off his knees standing up straight while taking a few steps away from him.

His voice a mere murmur; “When did you find out?”

She internally chuckled recalling the shitty day in question. “The day we ended things.”

Unexpectedly, Angel became the question king in concerns with all matters of Y/N’s life.

“Does anybody else know?”

The words left her mouth before her brain had a moment to register. “Simple, Ez.”

“Why did my brother know before me??”

“Because he’s my best friend.”

Shaking his head in disagreement; “He might be your best friend but he’s in love with you. He’s been drooling over you since elementary school. You run into his arms literally any time something happens. You think I don’t see this shit?” His angered tone seemingly increased forcing the veins along his tanned neck to bulge out ferociously.

“He was always the better Reyes brother. Papa Reyes never could understand what made me glued to his eldest son.”

Before Y/N could blink, Angel rushed her, invading her personal space. Her breath quickened as she quietly huffed. Angel’s hand was clasped securely along her jawline forcing her to see him, to feel his all-consuming, unbridled rage before he leaned in even closer. The hair on her neck stood up sickeningly straight as he spoke into the shell of her ear.

“When I was balls deep in Adelita, there wasn’t a moment where I even considered how you’d feel. I was blinded and betrayed by lust. You think my baby bro would want my sloppy seconds?” His malicious tone oozed with venom scaring Y/N into suspended submission. Down the road Y/N heard the tall-tale rumble of a engine cruising towards her house.

“I just wanted you to know, Angel. No matter how much I hate you, this is our child and I won’t deny you your basic rights. Trust me, I don’t expect anything from you…not at this point. Hopefully one day soon you wake the fuck up and see that I’m not the goddamn enemy. Now get the fuck out of my house.”

The wood frame rumbled as a strong fist met Y/N’s yellow front door breaking the already shattered tension. The moment was spoiled as Angel walked towards the foyer. He fingers connected with the chilled knob, twisting until success. He was met with rich, hazel eyes gleaming back at him. Fucking Ezekiel.

“Vigila tu espalda hermanito.”

Y/N appeared in Ez’s line of sight deciding to stay quiet in the background. Curiosity and awkwardness engulfed the threesome.

Ezekiel wasn’t going to back down. He finally had his chance and he would be damned to maintain his silence.

“The best man has already won.” With that, Ez clapped Angel’s rigid shoulder before moving to greet Y/N. He didn’t dare glance back no longer caring about what his brother thought and proceeded to close her front door.

“You sure do have perfect timing Mr. Reyes. I think you pissed him off.”

His chuckle aerated the room bringing a warmness to the peak of her slender neck. His muscular arms found her waist pulling her close into his chest for an embracive hug.

“Don’t shoot me. I just came for the hot meal…and enticing company.”

It was good to hear her laugh, and not just any plain laugh, but one buried within the borders of your chest that vibrated the room. His nerves soon calming as he dared a look in Y/N’s direction. She smiled sweetly, sincerely happy to be in his presence. All her life, she had learned that passion, like fire, was a dangerous force to reckon with. For it so easily spun out of control.

-----

Tags: @pupyluv247​ @feelingsonfiire @partypoison00

[manako-no-yami]

anything but clean

Rating: T Relationship(s): Odazai Tags: Grief/Mourning, Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, a teeeeeeeeeeeeeny tiny bit of Suicidal Ideation Summary:

Dazai knows better than anyone that blame is a fickle mistress, flitting back and forth and never settling in one place. The finger of accusation points everywhere and nowhere, all at once. But just because it has no direction doesn’t mean his sorrow disappears. Instead, it festers.

Dazai sits at an empty bar, and mourns.

for day 5 of @dazaimultishipweek2019!

-

There’s something about quiet bars. Something about the early morning hours, when the night is still bleeding away, when the only remaining patrons are those who either have nowhere to go or something they’re hiding from. There’s something about the way the light reflects off a glass, filtered through chilled whiskey, turning golden and warm. Like sunlight but muted, tailored for the nocturnal creatures that hide from the light.

Dazai turns his glass this way and that, rotating it between his fingers, poking the ice that bobs inside, the taste of bitter nostalgia souring on his tongue.

“Work was sooo boring today...” he whines. “So monotonous .”

His companion remains silent, watching him with sharp blue eyes, slowly nursing his own drink.

“Odasaku...” Dazai whines, resting his head on one hand, peering out at him through his right eye. “Tell me about your day. I’m sure it must’ve been much more eventful than mine.”

Oda hums, as though turning the statement over in his head.

“Been bothering your coworkers again, have you?”

Dazai sighs theatrically.

“Of course not!”

Oda cracks a small smile at that, hidden. You’d only know it was there if you knew where to look—just a small crinkle at the corner of his eyes—and Dazai knows where to look.

“Kunikida-kun is ever-grateful to have me as his partner. I even did paperwork today! He should be thanking his lucky stars for having the chance to work with someone like me , right, Odasaku?”

That small, hidden crinkle at the corner of Oda’s eye goes as quickly as it came. Just a flash, a moment of warmth. Like a candle sighing. Without it, Oda seems to melt into the background, his quiet seeping into the material of his being.

“You didn’t give him any...trouble, today?”

Dazai’s grin is sharp, rueful.

Three spontaneous, over-the-top death plans, five moments of “I’d rather be dead”, but no actual attempts, today. For once.

Joy.

“A death a day gives the coroner pay, am I right,” he laughs.

A haze of smoke passes between them, and Oda’s figure seems to shimmer a bit, indistinct.

“Dazai…” Oda’s face remains impassive, unsurprised, but his hands clench. He seems at a loss for words. Finally, after a long pause, he settles upon, “You really shouldn’t worry your colleagues like that.”

It’s a weak quip.

His voice strains near the end, like he’s choking on everything else he means to say (that they both know he wants to say), like he has to force down the truth in order to maintain the precarious peace that wavers between them.

Dazai shifts his weight, spinning in a circle on his barstool, humphing.

“Atsushi-kun should just stop worrying so much. It’s not my fault he hasn’t gotten with the program. No one else cares.”

Oda’s hands do that little clench again, a habit that Dazai noticed he has when he’s trying to control his emotions—like he’s trying to remind himself that he doesn’t need to reach for a gun.

“But they do. You know they do.”

“Like you do?” Dazai’s chuckle sounds like the tinkle of glass shattering.

For a second, all of his edges stand out, sharp and raw, before he forcefully relaxes his shoulders, that blithe smile like another layer of bandages to wrap around him and hold him together.

Oda looks resigned. Ever unperturbed. Still the only one who knows Dazai well enough to not be caught off guard. Like he’d seen this coming, the way he sees all disasters before they come. And what is Dazai, but yet another disaster?

The silence is damning, because they both know that Oda knows he can’t say anything to that—he no longer has the right.

They nurse their drinks, the silence between them thick and heavy, yet filled with a mutual understanding that Dazai wishes they didn’t have.

“…Why?”

Oda turns towards him, countenance like that of a man before the jury. Like he knows he’s committed a crime, and is willing to face it head-on.

Dazai loved that about him. Hates that about him.

“Why’d you do it?” Dazai sounds weary, like he’s older than he should be.

Oda takes a moment to savor the taste of his alcohol, contemplating. “Why do you keep trying?”

“You know it’s not the same thing. What I try to do and what you did is not the same thing,” Dazai bites back.

A clean suicide. One that doesn’t trouble anyone—and who’s fault is it, now, that he cares about troubling others?

“I suppose…I lost hope. There was nothing left to save,” Oda replies.

He doesn’t flinch when Dazai throws his drink at him, hands slamming against the bar, the glass shattering against the opposite wall.

“Bullshit. What about me?”

His eyes sting. But he doesn’t cry. He’s angry, but he doesn’t cry, because he knows it’s useless.

“You lost those orphans and decided there was nothing left in this godforsaken world worth saving?! Orphans die every day, Odasaku! Your failure meant nothing! Those kids were barely a blip on the radar! If that was all it took to break you, none of your efforts were worth anything in the first place!”

Dazai is the blood splatter upon the wall, the choked off scream that gurgles up a slit throat. He is the mess left behind. That Odasaku had left behind.

“I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not. How could you be sorry?”

His next words burn up his throat, like salt on an open wound. “You’re dead.”

As long as he remains alive, to him, Oda’s death is anything but clean—anything but forgivable.

And whose fault is that?

He’s a sad sight. Pathetic. The remaining patrons look over, but say nothing. The bartender begins to mop up the spill, looking like he wants to ask him to leave.

“If you’re allowed to die, then why can’t I?”

His voice is naked, plaintive.

His chest heaves and his vision swims, but the tears don’t fall. He’s at the cusp, waiting for the invisible cracks to converge so that he can finally, finally fall apart, but it never comes. He heaves, wishing so badly that he could cry, that he could feel human , but he isn’t, is he? This—this thing inside of him, this emptiness and this ugliness, could it possibly be human?

“Because you’re better than me, Dazai.”

A lie.

Odasaku had been the best of them, always.

A lie. That’s all that can be offered to him, and a bad one at that.

“Was I just not worth it? You couldn’t stay and—and—”

“You never needed my help.”

Another lie.

“I was a kid, too, you know,” Dazai whispers.

“…I know.”

Dazai sinks back onto the chair, composure wavering.

“Then why? Why wasn’t I worth living for? You still had one more kid you could save, and you left anyway.”

You left me.

“I’m sorry,” Oda says again. “I should’ve known better. I didn’t think.”

“No, you didn’t. You just died.”

But it’s too late now.

Maybe there wasn’t anything left of Dazai to save, anyway. Maybe Dazai was already a ghost, and Odasaku already forgotten. Maybe there isn’t a point to any of this. Maybe none of this is happening at all.

In that moment, it’s as though everything were submerged under water, floating away. Dazai is the only thing alive ( so unbearably alive ) in the middle of a dusty, forgotten tableau.

I’m drunk, he realizes, belatedly. Terribly, terribly drunk.

He sways on his seat, then leans forward. The bar surface is cool under his cheek.

“Why won’t you let me join you?”

For a second, he can smell him. His warmth. The scent of cigarettes, mingling with leftover gunsmoke. Cheap cologne.

“Because you can do so much more than I ever could.”

Dazai buries his face in his arms, and lets out a wet laugh.

“That’s unfair of you, isn’t it, Odasaku? Leaving your own ambition to another dying man?”

Silence greets him.

“I’m not suited for this. I never was. So why me?”

He asks the question to the empty air.

“Why me, Odasaku?”

He’s tired. So tired.

He closes his eyes to rest, just for a second.

 .

And when he looks up again, no one’s there.

[sup-hoes-its-me]

Depreciation (Oikawa x Reader)

 A/N: hey hey. im back at it again with another oikawa one. this one is a Soulmate AU! yay! I love these but i never do them justice. im fairly happy with this one, so i hope you like it too. Thank you!!!!

word count: 4226~

Everyone loved Oikawa Tooru. He was handsome and funny and passionate and athletic and just a seemingly pleasant person to be around. But, he was so terribly fake. For years, he naively assumed that his best friend, Iwaizumi, was the only one to know about his painful insecurities and self-doubt. He really believed it could be kept a secret.

One other person, someone the boy didn't even know, knew all about his problems. Y/N, the shyest girl in the entire class, knew everything. She had her secrets too, big, terrible secrets no one could ever know about. The most concerning of all those secrets: she was his soulmate. Just like Oikawa, she kept her secrets under lock and key. Not her best friend, not her mother, not her siblings...No one would ever know.

He could never know.

Oikawa was meant for someone else. He was meant to fall in love with a beautiful girl with flawless skin, a charming bright smile, and a voice that could swoon anyone. Instead, he was fated to be with her, the outcast of the school, the girl who locked herself in her room when she got home and avoided the vast majority of her peers like the plague.

No one could ever know she shared the same marking as the famous Oikawa Tooru. He was too good for her. Too handsome. Too popular. Too funny. Too perfect. No one would ever fawn after her like his fangirls did. Because she was nothing, and he was everything.

Y/N never took off her cardigan, nor did she push up the sleeves. It would only be disastrous if she attempted such a thing. People would see the mark inside of her wrist. They would see it and they would know. Most girls, they knew what Oikawa’s mark looked like; it was engraved into their brains much like their own mark. They studied it, checking time and time again to see if it matched, as if it would suddenly change to quench their desire for the masterful setter.

Even though Y/N knew she would never get to fall in love with her soulmate, she still sought information about him. She watched him through the gym windows as he practiced, seeing his talent and his pure, intense drive that kept him soldiering on. She listened to him talk to Iwaizumi at lunch when they ate in the same classroom, memorizing his mannerisms and his voice and the delicate ways he teased his best friend.

All she wanted, deep down, was to know her soulmate. She just wanted to talk to him. To find out what he loves and he hates. To find out his birthday, and his favorite color, and his favorite season, and his favorite movie. She wanted to know if he preferred pop or rock, if he liked chocolate or vanilla ice cream. Did he have any pets. What's his favorite holiday. What's his phone wallpaper…

She wanted to know everything about him.

Her heart always beat faster when she saw him, not because she loves him. No, it was because she was so afraid. She feared all the things about her that he could never find out. If she talked to him, the tug in her heart directed at him would only grow stronger. That's what happens to soulmates. There's a tight rope that connects them, and it constantly haunts them. Since she knows it's him she's destined to be with, the sense is only heightened until it's sometimes the only thing she can think about.

One afternoon, she sat outside the gym on the ground, cold and hard under her. She didn’t really know why she decided to sit there, right across from the room her soulmate was throwing around a volleyball with his teammates. The distinct sound of spikes rung out in her ears, balls pounding to the floor like rockets. Thud, over and over again until it was only background noise.

She found herself stuffing her earbuds in her ears, desperate to avoid the sound. Even with the music up, the memory of the noise still wreaked havoc on her concentration. Why couldn't she just stand up and leave? Why didn't she just go home? Why did she torture herself by sitting there, foolishly waiting for the practice to end just so she could see Oikawa leave the gym with a smile on his face and a bounce in his step, Iwaizumi right beside him?

For a long time, she watched the wind. It blew at the trees scattered about. It whistled past her ears. It kissed her skin, one thing she would never receive in her life. She wanted to be kissed like never before, to feel her heart racing, her hands running through his hair, rough hands roaming her waist and hips; she wanted it all. Yet, she settled for the wind.

The gym doors opened. A few members exited, ones she didn't know, nor did she particularly care about. It took a couple more minutes for her one and only to leave the gym. He looked positively gorgeous, almost glowing in the dusk. Oh, how she wanted to say something to him.

Iwaizumi walked out behind him, shutting and locking the door for the night. He was always the responsible of the two, she’d noticed. Oikawa liked to have fun, be reckless and exhausting while the ace took his time to scold his captain for those qualities.

Y/N pretended to be reading a book. She always pretended to read as to not get caught being a creep waiting outside the gym for a glimpse. She wasn't a fangirl; she was an observer of the ugly truth.

Unfortunately, today she caught someone’s eye.

The boy she stared at on a daily basis came walking towards her alarmingly fast. If he were any slower, she could manage to escape without being thrown into a trainwreck of a conversation bound to happen. She didn't want him to know her. She wanted to stay anonymous on the sidelines.

She only ever wanted to be a background character.

“Hey! I see you around all the time. I've been wondering why you always sit outside the gym,” his voice, so vividly cheerful, rang out in her ears. She removed her earbuds, shoving them into her pocket. Although she was afraid, there was still an intense need to hear his voice directed at her.

Her head did not lift from its downward tilt at her lap; it was suddenly too heavy to pick up. Her throat ran dry like a desert as she struggled for something to say. Anything. She could say almost anything. It didn't matter.

“I like the wind and the trees.” That was all she could say and all she wanted to say. It wasn't deep, and it barely meant anything. It was pathetically simple, yet so confusing at the same time.

“Come on, shittykawa. Leave her alone,” the strict one groaned, urging his friend to leave. For some reason, unbeknownst to him, he was curious about this one girl. He wanted to know her, as strange as that seemed. He’d never met her, although he saw her around often.

In a moment, instead of turning and walking away like the girl and his friend wanted him to do, his form plopped down beside her and propped against the wall. He leaned in to see what book she was reading. The topic was aliens, those damn extraterrestrials that he found so compelling. She shared an interest, a very weird one at that, which only caused him to need answers.

“I’m Oikawa Tooru,” he introduced. She knew his name though. Who didn't?

He waited for a reply. So, she gave it to him. “I’m L/N Y/N.”

She was so quiet. So different from him. Her voice radiated a sort of reserved kindness, a soft wisp of silent hopefulness that he needed to know more about. Again, he had no idea why he felt so obligated to do this.

He felt like he needed to know everything.

“Sooo, L/N-chan~, you’re reading a book on aliens,” he commented, scanning the book again. “Do you believe in aliens?” It was a silly question, a very stupid one indeed. He was just dying to start a conversation.

She nodded softly, daring to peek up at him. He had such beautiful eyes, soft brown ones she's only seen from afar. Now, being so close, she didn't want to ever look away. Yet, she did.

“I’ve always been interested in them,” she confessed nervously. What if he thought she was some weirdo for believing in something so nonsensical as aliens. It was making her brain hurt just thinking about the ridicule to come.

Only, it never came.

“Me too! I watch those sci-fi movies all the time!” He had this stupid smile on his face that she knew she couldn't dare look at. If she did, she wouldn't be able to look away. Instead, a small curl of her lips bloomed on her own face. “Have you ever seen Space Uprising? It's my favorite,” he asked.

“Of course. It's my favorite too.” What a coincidence.

“Wow, L/N-chan!. That’s awesome!” Finally, she felt herself unraveling. The caution she had did not dissipate completely, no, but she felt comfortable. She set her book to the side, letting her eyes lift to gaze at his features.

He couldn't help but gaze back, wondering how he missed this girl for all these years.

______________________

Y/N still wasn't used to hearing his voice call out for her. He would rush up behind her in the hallways, crowded with girls who wanted to stab her. Most had never seen her before, and wondered how such a weird girl could gain the attention of their favorite princely setter.

Everyday at lunch, he made sure she sat with him and Iwaizumi in one of the near empty classrooms. He would call her first name in an almost sing-song tone. Dammit. Y/N loved his voice. It was so sweet and cheerful, yet so full of life that it made her feel alive too. Part of her lived just to hear his melody.

“Y/N-chan, please give me some milk bread, please! You know it's my favorite,” he whined, watching as she unwrapped the delicious treat. Little did he know she only bought the snack because he loved it. Subtly, she wanted him to ask her for some just so she could hear him whine like a little kid. It was addicting.

“Why didn't you bring your own, dummy?” she asked as she broke the small loaf in half. She always did that, scolded him but still offered to help him. It physically hurt her to see him sad. She gave him the half, and the brightest smile broke out on his face. “Happy?”

“Very! You're so nice to me!” the boy cheered

She nodded, about to say something else. But her phone stopped her. Normally, she never receives texts, not unless they were from Oikawa or Iwaizumi. Obviously, they weren't the culprits.

Quietly, she slipped her phone out of her pocket and unlocked it, scanning over her notifications. There was only one actual text, the rest were a bland, disappointing series of unread emails and app messages from companies.

The text was from her younger cousin. For a few seconds, she wondered what the hell she could want. They never spoke, only at parties and holidays.

When she read the text though, her heart sunk in her chest.

‘Hey! I found my soulmate. We met in the mall this morning! His name is Mika, and I can't wait until you can meet him!!’

Her chest tightened. Breaths became ragged. Her heart sunk, soul clenched, mind ran wild. She felt like she was dying, but she couldn't let go.

As she stood up, chair scratching against the floor with a terrifying screech. She didn't say anything, finding that there was no possible way for her to explain how she felt. Oikawa called to her, concerned, but she couldn't turn around. She rushed out of the classroom into the nearly empty hall.

And it was then that she began sobbing. She buried her face into her palms and screamed into her skin. She wanted to just collapse into a pathetic lump on the floor and never get back up to face her friends again.

It always hurt knowing she could never be with her soulmate but hearing of other people enjoying their fate, and it made everything come crumbling down. So, she cried. She cried because she could never love her soulmate. She would never kiss him, hug him, or feel her hands running through his hair. It was all a stupid, reckless dream.

Footsteps approached her, coming from the classroom. All she could think was that Oikawa would come asking her what was wrong, and she would have to keep her mouth shut. She would have to make up some lie, fabricated just to prevent the truth from slipping off her tongue.

Instead, when she felt a warm hand on her shoulder, a deeper voice rung in her ear. “L/N, I saw what the text said.”

She kept silent, only whimpers escaping her lips and shaking her body violently.

“You’re not jealous, so what’s the problem?” he questioned, his head tilted down by her ear so he could whisper. Listening ears and prying eyes could sneak into their conversation, and neither wanted that.

All she could do was shake her head and mutter, “You couldn’t understand, Iwaizumi. You just can't.”

“I have a soulmate, too. I can understand.”

“No, this is different,” she told him without so much as an explanation. He was still deep in the darkness of not knowing, yet he felt he was getting somewhere. There was something locked up in her mind that she refused to let out; it raged on, but she wouldn't accept it.

It was always there, that lack of trust, the single secret that plagued her. Oikawa might have overlooked it; Iwaizumi, though, had his eyes on her from the moment they officially met.

“You’ve been lying to us this whole time, haven't you?” he accused. There was a silence, tense and thick. She had nothing to say. She couldn't lie no matter how much she wanted to. He already knew.

He grabbed her arm before she could yank it away from him. Her precious sleeves were pushed up for the first time in years to reveal that little mark on her wrist. Only three little lines, each one with a small bulb on the edge. It was so simple. So recognizable.

A grimace crossed her face, consuming her emotions with pure fear. He knew. Now, everyone would know. It was horrifying.

“You can't tell him.”

He ignored her as he dropped her wrist from his grasp. “How long have you known?” he asked lowly, his eyes sliding to the door to make sure the boy subjected wasn't listening.

She sighed. “Second year of junior high.”

That was a damn long time. How could she never say anything? It was infuriating. “And you never told him?”

“You know I can't.”

“Actually, no, I don't know,” he growled. “You are his soulmate. You have no right to deprive him of his fate just because you have some inferiority complex.” It was true. She never really thought about it that way. She assumed he needed to be with someone better than her. He did, but she was his soulmate…

Still, she believed fate had made a terrible mistake.

She pulled down her sleeve and shuffled. “Promise me you won't tell him.”

“Will you?”

“I’ll try.”

“That's not good enough. Swear to me you will tell him,” he lowly commanded, his hand going to grip her shoulder. He needed her to do this one thing, this one terribly important thing. It wasn't her choice, but instead a moral obligation. “If you don't, I will.”

She could only nod. It was time. God, she dreaded the day for years.

_________________________

It was around seven that night. She waited around the gym, watching Oikawa and Iwaizumi practice until they were both tired and hungry. They worked so hard, her soulmate especially. It made her chest bubble with pride.

Tonight, she would reveal that painful secret she kept hidden for years. It had been a week and a half since she was threatened by Iwaizumi, and she knew she didn't have much time left before he went through with his threats. So she waited for them to be done, like she did every day. Only, the other days she never felt like impending doom was reigning over her head.

What if he rejected her? Despite knowing it was the most likely outcome, she couldn't accept it in the pit of her stomach. It ached and stung and turned throughout the night before and into the next day. She wanted to throw up, but it was only in her mind.

That didn't make it hurt any less when she thought about their friendship ending that night. Tears gathered in her eyes as she realized she wouldn't hear his voice, or listen to him rant about aliens, or get his help on her stupid English homework, or watch him beg for her sweets at lunch. She’d never walk home with him again. She’d never ride the train beside him again. She’d never get to hug him again.

She did all her crying the night before, truly the entire week before this day. So, she just sat there, internally wallowing in her crushing self-loathing. How could he possibly fall in love with her one day if she didn't love herself?

Practice ended quickly, faster than she thought possible. And she watched as they walked out of the locker rooms with their club jackets on and bags slung over their shoulders. Oikawa smiled at her, and she couldn't help but send a small smile his way as well. Really, she just wanted to scream.

She stood from the bleachers and walked to her friends’ sides. Iwaizumi wished them a goodbye as he walked down the lengthy sidewalk into town. They were heading the other way, to the train station.

Until the train arrived at their stop, she listened as Oikawa went on about some nonsense he read in a book the night before, something about creatures of the night and a haunted house...She was so lost in thought, she barely listened.

And then they were walking down the road, which was about ten blocks from her house. He always walked her home first and then to his own a little ways away.

“Y/N, what does it feel like to meet your soulmate?” he asked lightly, hands shoved in his pockets and head hanging to stare at his steps. He asked that so suddenly, and she wondered why he would ask her, of all people. For all he knew, she's never met her soulmate. “I mean like, what have you heard about it? From your parents or friends or something…”

“I heard it's an instant connection. You only have to see them before you feel yourself pulled to them. And when you first talk to them, you want to know everything about them, so much that it hurts you. You fall in love with their voice, and their quirks, and their flaws,” she explained, her voice softening. “It only takes a few minutes or even seconds. You fall in love with everything.”

It was quiet for a minute. They kept walking, but she felt like she could just stand there with him for hours. He still didn't  know,  but it felt like she got a chunk of her confession off her chest.  He sent her a side-eyed look, questioning her, “Sounds like you have personal experience.”

“Not really...It's only what my mom and dad told me,” she brushed off the thought swiftly.

He sighed, looking down at the sidewalk once again, eyes shut peacefully. She waited for him to say something...anything. Anything to ease this tension. “I’ve definitely felt that way before. In fact, I’ve felt it everyday for months now. Maybe I'm just exaggerating the symptoms, but I swear it's real, Y/N.”

“Who?”

“That's not important. We’re not soulmates so it doesn't matter.”

He loved someone else.

It was exactly that moment when her heart tore in half. Yet, the pain sent adrenaline through her veins. All those doubts were still there, in fact, she believed that she would be turned down one hundred percent...But, with her heart clenched and a head full of doubts wreaking havoc on her well-being, she felt like it was time. She would lose him now. At least the burden would be lifted from her shoulders.

“Tooru, I lied to you. I’ve met my soulmate.”

He turned to her, stopping in the middle of that empty night sidewalk. His fingers wrapped around her left wrist, the one void of the mark. He stared, so intensely that she thought it would pierce her. “You have?”

“Yeah.”

He only shook his head, hair bouncing around his face. Desperation. It was all over his face and in his eyes. He knew this day would come, but he always dreaded it. “Well, who is it? Do I know him?” The thought of her with someone else physically tortured him, heart beating out of his chest and his legs growing weak.

She shook off his hand gently, moving her fingers to the sleeve of her cardigan. This was the last real moment of their friendship, for better or worse. The last deep breath she took lasted too long and she still felt empty; she felt empty and scared and pitiful.

Her fingers rolled up her sleeve for the first time in his presence and she showed him the mark. “I’m sorry, Tooru. I know I shouldn't bother you, but I just had to tell you, just so you wouldn't look for her anymore,” Y/N whispered, unable to look up at him.

“Why didn't you tell me?” he questioned, gripping her wrist in his hand and staring at it. It was distinctively his, but it didn't make any sense. He couldn't understand. Nothing was making any sense. Did she hate him? Is that why she never told him? “You’ve known all this time and you never said anything? Do I mean nothing to you?”

Fuck, he wanted to be angry, furious, so mad he wouldn't hold back. He was too sad to feel anything else other than the blunt force of dejection.

“No. I care about you. I just couldn't hurt you like this. I never wanted to tell you-”

“Why? Why the hell do you think this hurts me? It hurts that you weren't going to tell me. If you loved me, you would have told me something!” he exclaimed, his passion running dry. He was just so fucking put out by the entire situation. “What is wrong with you?”

Tears fell from her eyes and her face turned red. She knew this was going to happen. She knew telling him would ruin everything. Her breaths came out ragged. It just made her want to run away. He was so angry and hurt and harsh to a point she’s never seen him before.

She whispered to him, so softly you could hear the quivers and hesitation, “I’m sorry. I was afraid. I just wanted to give you a chance at someone you actually want, not me-”

He interrupted her, his voice getting louder and louder as it got harder to breathe. “I want you! I want you so much it hurts. I thought you weren't my soulmate, and I would never have a chance with you,” he exclaimed. “Do you know how much that hurt?!”

The girl stumbled back a bit, her hand pressed to her chest. She could feel the rapid pulsing of her heart against her palm. “Tooru, I-I…” But he did not let her speak.

“I love you! The whole entire school knew I loved you! How could you not get that?” he asked, clutching his hands into fists by his sides as he stared at her. His eyes creamed pain and anger while hers were cold and full of fear. As she shook, his eyes took in her form, her teary eyes and her shaking body. She looked miserable, and regret came crashing down on him. He was still angry that she kept this secret from him all this time, but happiness was beginning to bloom in his chest.

The girl he was in love with was his soulmate.

“Tell me you love me, Y/N.” It was only a breath, a few words to fall from his lips.

She looked up to him finally, her red eyes staring into his. “I’ve loved you for such a long time, Tooru. I’ve always loved you, dammit.”

After a moment, she lost control. The girl rushed up to him, crushing the space between them and crashing into his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her face pressed into his chest. There was no hesitation when he hugged her back, pressing her shaking body to his chest and nuzzling her hair.

“It’s a good thing we’re soulmates then,” he whispered beside her ear.

She laughed, nodding into his chest. “Yeah. A really good thing.”