#fuck you stupid skin mental disease from the bottom of my heart fuck you

[ashersbraincell]

Trying to calm down my fear of infection and loosing my hands like…shh shh it’s okay it’s okay…we’ve been through worse trenches…if ya didn’t loose your fingers back during lockdown mainly finger centered dermatillomania you won’t loose em from picking at the edges of your nails now…surely

[wolf-and-bard]

Proper Procedures for Wooing Witches

for @littoraly-art because you are amazing and I already said this, but I hope you have an awesome birthday <3

Pairing: Yennefer/Jaskier

Word Count: ~2.2k

Rating: T, some explicit language

„My darling Yennefer,“ Jaskier calls out as he swoops into his Oxenfurt apartment with a flat carton wedged under his arm. It already nicked the lavender mesh overlay of his newest doublet, but for once, he absolutely cannot be bothered by that. It’s too nice of a day. “Hello?” He kicks off his shoes.

High noon’s just gone by and Jaskier doesn’t expect Yen to be up yet – which means she will hex his ass if he wakes her. His giddiness outweighs his fears though, heart warming, as he takes in the cluttered entryway. Several pairs of shoes are strewn about, his and hers mixing on the ground. Yen’s all look like they could double as a lethal weapon and are some variation of black and white (though one pair is tinged brown from blood that crusts the bottom, he doesn’t want to know). It’s awfully domestic, a product of the temporary living situation they are in.

When Yen requested to use his rooms for a week or so, she explicitly asked for Jaskier not to be there, but, well, he is weak, he wants her, he couldn’t have stayed away if he tried. Yen’s been snippy from the moment he welcomed her with open arms and the prospect of sharing a bedroom, snippy to the point of grumpiness. That’s fair, Jaskier supposes. It’s also fair that she slips out at the most random times of day, coming back only when Jaskier’s gone to the academy for lectures or the pub for drinks with his colleagues. All fair and good. He catches her about once a day which is more than he can say for most of the year. Fair, yes. Nice, even though Yen is rarely, if at all, impressed with his affection for her. A bard can dream.

“Yenny,” he shouts again and whistles to himself as he slides through to the main room. To his surprise, she lounges at his dinner table by the window, one hand curled around a steaming mug, the other holding up one of his most beloved poetry collections (not only because he wrote several of the entries). Her hair falls in rich raven curls that cover her chest, barely concealed by the sheer black dressing gown she wears. It’s the only thing she wears, Jaskier notices, gulping heavily. Yen doesn’t look up from her reading, her lips are pursed and her tone clipped as she replies.

“For every time you call me that, bard, your balls will grow the tiniest fraction until, one day, they will explode, never to grow back.”

Jaskier considers it. Directs his attention downward. They do feel a bit strange, don’t they? But that’s only because he’s thinking about them. Right.

“I shall not be fooled,” Jaskier says, grinning. “But if you so insist, ‘beloved’ will do just as well. I brought you a gift.” Brushing past his dusty bookshelves and cluttered desk, he struts towards the table and drops the carton on it. It lands with a thud and swirls up more dust – how is it this dusty already, Jaskier could swear he cleaned the place, like, last month?

Yen licks her finger to turn the page which makes Jaskier laugh out loud. He rounds the table to glance over her shoulder, but immediately has to retch. There, catching Yen’s precise attention, is Valdo’s vomit-inducing sonnet about his first time taking a tumble with what Jaskier assumes was a professional. It has to be, no self-respecting person would bed the man free of his coin. Jaskier makes a mental note to spread another rumour about Valdo and various sexual diseases, then plucks the book from her hands and lets it drop to the table. She sighs softly under her breath and allows him to put a hand on her shoulder. Is that… does she lean into him? The tiniest bit? Oh, dear.

“That better not be a dress,” Yen says, reaching out. Her fingertips trace the edge of the carton as if she’s in deep debate on whether to pop it open. This is a game they’ve been playing excessively, him bringing her gifts, her making a show of whether to accept them or not. On the few occasions that Yen invites him for a drink or gives the acoustic properties of his lute a small magical boost, Jaskier fails to reciprocate her cool attitude. He’s too in love to feign indifference and it’s not like she would believe him either.

“If we’re using dress in terms of the precise cut it implies then no, no dress,” he replies, thumb rubbing her skin through the slippery material of the gown mostly to work through the tightness in his throat. It hurts sometimes because this farce makes him think she doesn’t want him. Hell, most things Yen does are aimed at making him think she doesn’t want him. But then there are fractions of admittance like this, like when her gravity shifts towards him or he finds her in his rooms, barely dressed, that make him think there might be more there. Jaskier simply has to practice patience.

“Julian, do I seem like a woman easily impressed with shallow gifts of clothes? In case you hadn’t noticed, I have a very particular style.”

“Oh, I noticed. Trust me, Yenny, you are very much one of a kind,” he replies, mesmerized by her fingers dancing on the cardboard. She loses no time in jabbing back.

“And yet you revert to common courting techniques? That’s pathetic and you know it.”

“Bold of you to assume I am courting you.”

“Bold of you to claim you are not. If I remember correctly, the last time Geralt was with us you got drunk off your ass and asked him for his permission to woo me. Which was sweet but not at all his place to allow. Then you continued to exert yourself into my life on every possible occasion with flowers and picnics and awful love songs. How else am I going to interpret all this?” Yen asks, craning her neck to look up at him from under dark lashes. Gods, she is gorgeous.

“Touché. But do not think I would waste the efforts of my best tailor on just anyone. This is advanced courting, dear.”

“I fail to see its distinguishing qualities.”

“The difference is that these clothes are hardly a gift and more a means to an end.” Jaskier winks which has her eyes narrow, fall back to the carton.

“You want to take me somewhere” Yen asks and, of course, she untangles his intentions immediately.

“Not just somewhere. My cousin’s forwarded me an invitation to a ball put on by some countryside nobleman or other. His work keeps him in Kerack so I’m to go in his stead. That is to say, I’d hoped you would go dancing with me.”

Yen looks up once more and Jaskier starts a little. He will never get used to the vibrance of her violet eyes, how they see through him. Once, she said it took no effort at all to pick at his thoughts, that she always feels as though he’s screaming them right at her. So, he does.

Please, he thinks, mouth twitching into a soft smile. Please, just this once. It would mean the world to me.

Yen huffs a small laugh and shakes her head, then draws the box towards her. Inside, she finds a slim-cut blouse made from the finest black cotton in the city, complete with white lace trim down the front and flaring out at the cuffs and collar. With it, Jaskier had the tailor make a white corset belt and a pair of deep black pants that have applications of the same lace. It would look precarious, almost edgy, on anyone else, but on Yen… the thought alone makes Jaskier’s chest tighten with adoration.

“Jules, this is beautiful,” Yen murmurs as her fingers trace the line of the seams on the blouse. Jaskier puts his other hand to her shoulder and holds on for dear life as his ear twitches. Was that? Did she just? Oh, how he itches to make a quip about the nickname. Because it’s funny, yes, but it also gives him palpitations. He feels like a lovesick puppy trying to befriend a wild cat. Which also means that any violation of trust can ruin what they have. It’s just so fucking precious, this whole affair, and if he were on the outside of it, he would squeal in delight and write a whole novel about it. He still might.

“I’m glad you like it. And it will look absolutely stunning on you. You will look stunning in it. Ah, not implying that you don’t usually look stunning. What I am saying is, the other attendees will be stunned.”

“You’re ridiculous… and stupid too. Are you certain you want to take me to the ball? I’m not exactly popular with the local nobility.”

“Quite the tragedy,” Jaskier says and because he feels daring, he bends down and kisses the top of her head. Then, he saunters over to the stove, pours himself a mug of tea and takes the seat next to her. “And yes, I am certain. In fact, there is nothing I’d love more. Let the people talk.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Yen says on another sigh. “Not about what they say or think or do.”

“Which is part of what makes you so damn sexy.”

Yen rolls her eyes and folds the clothes back into the carton.

“These are lovely, but I will not wear them to the dance,” Yen says. Which means she will go with him at least. It’s not enough, Jaskier is dying to see her wear what he picked out, dying to show the world that such a brilliant woman would choose to spend the evening with him. Most of all, he wants to make her happy. “Trust me on this. You have a reputation to worry about and bringing me along already risks that. Bringing me along in that can and will mess with your career.”

“Trust me, when I say that it won’t matter. I’m already famous and folk love to gossip about famous people. Probably more than they love my songs. I could imagine worse truths to be spread about me. Besides, didn’t you just say you don’t care what people think about you? Why then would you worry about what people think about me?”

"Well I never," she says, but her lips soften into a smile and her hand rises to fiddle with her pendant. Jaskier gently pries it off and brings her knuckles to his lips.

"I don't care either," he whispers. "I just want to go dancing with you."

"I'll portal to my rooms in Kaedwen and get one of my old dresses.” Her face is all smiles, but an edge has stolen into her voice which makes her sound forlorn, sad even, and her eyes flicker over to the folded clothes in the box. Jaskier’s throat tightens.

"Why are you so stubborn? It’s obvious you want to wear them. You don’t need to start giving a fuck now.”

"I'm trying to do something for you here, Julian. I don't usually go out of my way to attend stuck-up parties with peacocks such as yourself."

“Please,” Jaskier says. He still holds her hands in both of his and because he has no shame, and because this really does mean the world to him, he sinks off his chair and onto his knees before her legs. Yen’s eyes widen a fraction. “For me.”

-----

They dance. Oh, how they dance. Jaskier always considered himself a great dancer, he has music in his veins and has flirted and whirled his way through every ball room and banquet hall on the Continent, and it’s clear that Yen is no stranger to this art either. They are exuberant, relentless, they laugh and pirouette and demand their ground, much to the detriment of those with lesser skills. The lack of a dress doesn’t subtract from their flair, if anything, it allows for a broader range of motion

"The only way we could draw more eyes is if we'd brought Geralt along,” Yen giggles. Fuck. She’s so carefree it brings tears to Jaskier’s eyes.

"Gods no," he laughs. "He would ruin all the fun with his growling and brooding. If you're looking for more attention however..."

"Jules-"

Jaskier twirls her and, in that motion, catches her around the waist and dips her low, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips which are parted on a yelp. Before he can tug her up again, her hands come forward to cup his face and she presses into him, grins into the kiss.

“You’re absolutely ridiculous,” she whispers.

“Admit it,” Jaskier drawls as he brings her back upright and they fall into an easy basic waltz, closer to each other than the dance strictly necessitates. “You love me.”

“That is awfully presumptuous of you.” But she laughs, and kisses his cheek, and Jaskier thinks that maybe one day, she will. “Don’t bet on it, bard.”  

[dalgikiss]

Urban Loneliness // k. bakugou

index

part 5

The flower petals don’t stop coming but that’s all they stay as- stray petals that fall out of your mouth here and there when you’re least expecting it. You’ve gotten quite good at hiding away your cough, hands always flying up to your mouth just in time to catch the flower petals. You’ve begun to collect them in the jar Recovery Girl had given you.

You think they would be a lot prettier if they didn’t come from the inside of your body.

Sometimes though, you’re unlucky or maybe it’s just your reaction time has gotten dull but when you cough, someone sees a stray petal fly out. You tell them it’s a party trick, one you’ve been working on in hopes of surprising them. You’re extremely grateful that it’s only Mineta that’s seen it happen because all it takes is you smiling sweetly and blowing a small kiss towards him and he’s putty in your hands.

You’re still left to wonder who it is that has your heart even though you have an inkling of who it might be. The petals are never consistent, only coming when you’re amongst giant groups of people- class, the common room, sparring practices- you name it, it happened.

(You’re a little oblivious for not noticing it’s when Bakugou and Sayaka are around you, but that’s another story)

It’s not until one day you’re laughing one of those wheezing, clapping, tears-coming-out-of-your-eyes kind of laughs at Uraraka’s successful prank on Kaminari (with your help of course) do you find out who it is that you have a crush on.

Kaminari’s face is full of shaving cream shaped to give him a mustache and eyebrows that rival Endeavor’s and his hair has been dyed a pretty pink while he hung midair, flailing his arms around desperately for balance. Uraraka is laughing with you and both of your laughter only grows louder as more people walk into the common room.

Momo’s arms are hanging on to you for balance as she clutches her stomach. The room is full of warm laughter instead of tired groans from practice. Your heart is warm and you tell yourself you want to capture this moment forever.

Even Bakugou lets out a loud guffaw at the sight of Kaminari floating in the air. Your grin only widens when you hear it because it normally takes something short of a miracle to make him laugh. You turn to say something to him but all words die in your throat at the sight in front of you. Bakugou’s arm is wrapped tightly around Sayaka, her head resting against his broad shoulders. Your stomach turns uncomfortably but you push away the saliva that’s beginning to pool in your mouth.

“Bakugou! You got a girlfriend now?” You tease, successfully getting everyone’s attention. Uraraka’s concentration is broken and Kaminari falls onto the floor with a soft ‘thud’ and an indigent ‘ow!” from his mouth.

You’re waiting for Bakugou’s response, your stomach ache beginning to become harder to ignore.

Pleasesaynopleasesaynopleasesaynople-

“Damn straight I got a girlfriend. Got the best one there is too, you fuckers better stay away from her or I’ll blast your ass onto the other side of the planet” His eyes avoid yours.

You want to vomit.

You utter out a strangled ‘congratulations’, the word tasting bitter in your mouth. Everyone is crowding in on the new couple and you take the commotion as a distraction to run to the bathroom.

The common room’s bathroom is cold and the tiles dig harshly into your knee as you retch up flower petals into the toilet basin, fingers gripping the porcelain. You take a deep breath in an attempt to calm down but it does more harm than good and you end up gagging even more. You don’t remember the last time it’s been this bad and you’re biting back tears. After a particular hard gag -you’re realizing how disgusting you sound- something larger than the normal size of a petal falls out of your mouth.

Blinking away your tears, your blood runs cold at the sight of a full pink anemone floating on the surface of the water but your heart stops at the voice behind you.

“What the fuck?”

shitshitshitshit

You freeze at the sound of Mina cursing. Maybe there’s a way you can play this off. You turn around extremely slowly, wiping the blood away from the corner of your mouth. “Hey Mina, the bathroom’s a bit occupied right now” You laugh awkwardly. She walks towards you softly and peers into the toilet bowl, her face contorting into one of pity and worry at the sight.

“So” She begins and you nod.

“So”

“Are you throwing up flowers?”

You can’t bring yourself to look at her even when she moves to sit down next to you on the bathroom floor. Her hands are soft when she places them on your cheeks, wiping away the tears that are beginning to fall from your eyes. She whispers sweet nothings as she pulls you towards her, stroking your hair as you muffle your sobs against your palm. Your tears are too hot and they burn your face but Mina lets you cry on her shoulder even though you’re sure she just washed her uniform.

You don’t know how long you’ve cried for -15 minutes, an hour- but when you’re done, you’re sure you look like a mess and your head is spinning from the lack of air you’ve been getting. You honestly don’t know why you’re crying. Maybe it’s because you’re basically facing an unavoidable death, maybe it’s because someone has finally seen you throwing up flowers and it’s a relief to not have to hide it anymore or maybe it’s because you’re finally realizing you like someone who has a girlfriend.

Mina’s still waiting patiently for you to gather yourself, hands rubbing your back in an attempt to comfort you and it is only when you finally meet her eyes, she speaks again. “You’re throwing up flowers?”

You nod miserably, looking at the flower petals which have begun to sink to the bottom of the toilet, specks of blood decorating each one. You’re not sure how to start but you figure anything that comes out of your mouth is better than saying nothing. “I have something called the Hanahaki disease”

Her mouth repeats the name after you, testing out the syllables on her tongue.

“Basically, I’m going to keep throwing up flowers because the person I like doesn’t like me back and it’s going to continue until I die unless I get a stupid surgery that gets rid of my ability to love but what kind of shitty options are those?” You give her a watery smile when her eyes widen at the notion of death. “And I’ve just realized I like Bakugou but he has a girlfriend and normally it’s just been a few petals so I guess it wasn’t that serious but now there’s an actual flower in the fucking toilet bowl and I’m freaking out, i am so fucking sca-”

You never get to finish your spiel because Mina’s pulling you into another hug and you feel your shoulder beginning to dampen. It’s your turn to comfort her now, arms wrapped around her while she clutches the back of your shirt in her fists. “You’re NOT going to die” Her voice is muffled against your shoulder but you hear her loud and clear.

She pulls away to grab your shoulders and face you directly, black eyes boring into yours. “You’re not going to die, we’ll figure something out and you’re going to be okay”

You let her pull you up from the floor and flush the toilet, making a mental note to go to Recovery Girl’s office later to tell her of the progression while Mina’s busy dabbing a wet paper towel around your face to try and freshen you up.

The silence is broken when Mina looks at you with a teasing glint in her eye. “So…. Bakugou?”

You can’t help but let out an exasperated laugh, swatting her arm away from your face. “I guess so”

Just the mention of his name makes you feel like barfing once again but you hold it in as you both walk out the bathroom.

Stupid shitty Bakugou.

Hot-headed, crude and blunt Bakugou.

Passionate, focused, goal driven Bakugou.

Taken, no longer single, has a girlfriend Bakugou.

You’re really hating the way that sounds.

Mina drops you off at your dorm with another hug and the soft promise of “I’m going to help you figure something out, I promise” and the door closes behind you with a soft click.

There’s no longer anything to distract you from your thoughts as you sluggishly change out your uniform and into your sweatpants. You catch a glimpse of your flower jar and your stomach lurches at the sight.

You feel all sorts of emotions at the sight of it- anger, resentment, hurt, sadness but your body can’t stand much more of being awake and the next thing you know, you’ve fallen asleep on top of your covers.

X.

You wake up in the middle of the night, head spinning in pain. The pads of your feet softly made their way to the common room as you walked away from your room, in need of a new environment. Your eyes struggle to adjust to the light when you open the door to the room. Who could be in here at this time?

“Kirishima?”

He turns his head slowly at the mention of his name, greeting you with a small smile. “What are you doing here?” He asks, patting the space next to him, gesturing for you to sit.

“I could ask you the same thing,” You say, flopping onto the space next to him. His arms immediately go to rest loosely on your chest while you adjusted your head on his lap. “It’s like 3am, can’t sleep?”

“Yeah, something like that” Kirishima smiled softly -he was not about to tell you he watched a horror movie in his room and got too scared to sleep- his hands moving to gently rub small circles into your temple. Your eyes closed in bliss as he did so. “What about you?”

“Can’t sleep” you mumbled, “Are your fingers like magic or something?” He laughs at this, body vibrating against your head.

“Why?” He teases, hands smoothing over your eyebrows, “Gonna fall asleep on me?”

You’re already half asleep in his lap, nodding slowly at his question. “You should sleep too” you tell him, words slurred in your sleepy state. Kirishima’s fingers trail down towards your throat cautiously, waiting for you to jerk awake and smack him away but you don’t. You let him trace each scratch your long nails had left in your wake, each welt and raw skin. His fingers feel surprisingly nice against them.

You’re not quite sure if you’re asleep or not but you do hear Kirishima’s soft voice somewhere in the murky gray of your head. “What happened to you?” he whispers, fingers finally stilling. You open your eyes slightly, pushing his arm with your shoulder so he would continue. “It’s nothing,” you tell him, “just a cough that never seems to go away”

“There was blood on the bathroom floor when I went in after you. Are you sick?”

You tense at his words, the movement not going unnoticed to him and he stops but you relax just as fast as you stiffen. “Something like that”

“Tell me what’s going on” Kirishima all but demands. When you ignore him, he pokes your forehead hard. “Ow! Kirishima, that hurts!”

“Tell me what’s going on or I'll poke your forehead again” He warns and your hands fly up to shield your face.

“Alright, alright!” You smack his arm in retaliation. “I’ll tell you!” He grins triumphantly at this and goes back to massaging your head. “I have the Hanahaki disease” you tell him, closing your eyes so you don’t have to look at his expression.

“It’s a disease where I throw up flowers as a result of unrequited love or some shit like that. The only way for it to go away is if the person likes me back or if I get some kind of surgery to get rid of the flowers but then I lose my ability to love. What a shitty way to go” You bitterly laugh.

“Oh and if I don’t make a choice soon, i’ll die” You add in nonchalantly

Kirishima digs his finger a little harder into your scalp at the casual mention of your impending death and you whimper. “Ow! Not so hard”

“Don’t talk about dying like that”

“Sorry” You whisper, hands reaching up to take his larger one into yours. His palm is rough with calluses, a sharp contrast to your soft ones but you pay no attention to it. “Mina knows too” You mention, “She walked in on me throwing up flowers”

“So, who do you like?” Kirishima asks.

“That’s all you’re going to ask me after I tell you I’m dying because I can cough up flowers?”  

“I think finding out who you like is a much more pressing matter”

“You’re impossible”

“And you’re avoiding the question”

You sigh in response, using his hand to cover your eyes. ‘Bakugou”

“You like mmmrgghh-” Kirishima’s sentence gets cut off when you reach up to cover his face.

“Shut up!” you hiss, getting up slightly to make sure nobody was walking in, “you’re too loud!”

His red eyes can only stare down at you in shock when you drop back down onto his lap, removing your hand on his mouth.

“Don’t ask me for any details, I don’t even know myself” you warn him, “I’ll shove my foot into your mouth if you say anything”

He laughs at your threat. “Okay, fine. Is there anything I can do?” His lighthearted tone drops to something more serious, concerned about your wellbeing but you can only shake your head. The sun is beginning to peek through the curtains and if you squint, you can see the electronic clock flash 5:24am.

“I just want to sleep” You whisper, eyelids drooping. You tug softly on his collar, shifting so he could lay with you on the couch. “Come lie down with me”

He does as you ask, his body is warm and keeps the cold away. He’s splayed out underneath you and it’s only when you throw something at the light switch and successfully turn it off does Kirishima realize just how tired he is.

“Good night Kiri” You mumble against him. The fingers that were clutching onto his shirt loosened as you drifted off to sleep.

The sound of your even breathing is the only sound left in the room. “Good night” He whispers into the still air, falling fast asleep soon after and that’s how Bakugou finds the two of you when he walks in a few hours later- fast asleep on the couch together.

[sir-skarsgard]

This Isn’t Love

Pairing: Peter Rumancek x OC / Roman Godfrey x OC 

Prompt/summary: Peter is in love with OC; OC is love with Roman; Roman fucks his cousin. It’s an interesting love triangle, that’s for sure 

Word count: 2150 

Warnings/contents: Slight angst, sex implied, unreciprocated feelings, love triangle, mental health issues and various versions of self-harm including: starvation, yanking hair harmfully on oneself, sleep deprivation, etc. 

Notes: This will be a 3 part story, not including the 2 opposite endings where you have a choice between Roman and Peter, which will finally close out the story. Enjoy, and hopefully I’ll have those up soon! 

(Read part 2 here) 

Today was not my best day. I was sort of sulking, moping around school with a dull look on my face. Ever since Roman had a kid things hadn’t been so good. It was stupid, but it was something that had bugged me. Maybe it wasn’t even about Roman, maybe it was just me. 

My birthday was coming up, and while I wouldn't age, I would still be forced to be reminded how I was an accident all day long. 

My father, an Upir, had fallen in love with a mortal woman. My mother. They had stayed together, and they still were now, I, however, was a product of their love affair as they left their spouses. I was never meant to happen, and they reminded me every chance they got. My father had always said that I was their punishment for their love. I was never treated much like a child, more like a disease. 

I was a monstrosity of a person. Half-Upir, half-human. I was a 1-1000, but not in a good way. There were upsides to being half-Upir. I lived like an Upir, I could eat human food and not always give off the Upir vibe that pure-bloods did, however there were many more downfalls than there was upsides: eternal hunger. I was hungry no matter how much blood I drank or food I ate. something wasn’t wired correctly in my brain to give me a fully functioning mind and body. I was never sleeping until I stayed awake too long and randomly passed out in class or at my desk. I spaced out more than a normal person, thinking about absolutely nothing for hours on end. If I was spacing out there was no sound in my head, just distorted voices and until someone shook me from it I was like a dead person walking. 

Roman Godfrey, Shelley Godfrey, and Peter Rumancek were my only friends. Shelley was a decently close friend, though lately my time has been occupied by Peter. He was a pretty nice guy, he seemed to like me. We’d been friends for maybe a year. 

He and I were supposed to hang out after school, so I waited. I don’t know exactly how long it took for him to come, I got distracted, watching people pass by. I watched Roman as he walked out of school with Shelley. 

My mind wandered to more thoughts of Roman, dragging me further away from reality than before as I watched him get into a car. 

Suddenly someone was shaking my shoulder and Roman was gone. I looked over to see Peter, sending me a slightly worried glance. 

“You alright?” He asked softly. I nodded, sending him a small smile. Peter sat beside me and gently placed a hand on my shoulder. I tensed slightly, but I didn’t shy away from his touch. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.” I replied. “Honestly.” Peter gave a little sigh and looked away. it was quiet for a minute. I fiddled with a small key chain Roman had given me my last birthday and waited. peter finally stood and reached down for my hand. 

I let him help me up, and I didn’t bother taking my hand away, as we walked to his house. His mom didn’t seem to be home, which might have been for the best. She was always worried with me around. I could sense her fear, not because of some sense, but because of how her heart rate would increase the closer I was to Peter. 

Not that I can blame her. I wouldn’t want my only child around a creature as deadly as my kind if I was her either. Uncontrollable hunger was something not many had the will to fight away. I hardly had it as I was. 

Peter and I were in his room, sitting on his bed and joking around, playing games and talking. He had a beer at his feet, his body tuned towards me, his figure slouched and relaxed. 

I looked out his window, looking at the Godfrey household. Peter gave a gentle sigh after a minute. 

“Maybe if you weren’t hung up on Roman you’d see there’s other people.” He spoke, breaking the comfortable silence. I looked at him and frowned. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You’re in love with Roman. We all see it.” Peter clarified, slightly disappointed. I stood up, looking down at him with a small glare. 

“I am not in love with the man who can’t stop fucking his cousin.” I said jokingly. Peter gave a bark of a laughter and shrugged. 

“If you say so.” I sat back own, this time a little closer to Peter, and stared off into space. I wasn’t in love with Roman. 

I’m not in love with Roman. 

Maybe if I repeat it enough to myself and to everyone else it will be true. 

“Besides, it wouldn’t matter if I did.” I murmured. Peter sent me a small look of confusion that I caught from the corner of my eye. 

“And why is that?” 

“Roman would never like me.” I replied softly. “No one could. I’m unlovable.” I finally turned my head to meet Peter’s gaze. His eyes were soft as his lips were parted as if he was going to speak, but I cut him off. “I’m a fucked up creature. Half-Upir, half-human, I shouldn’t have ever been born.” 

“Don’t say that.” Peter softly spoke. “You should have been born, because nothing would be the same without you.” 

“Roman would still be a dad to his cousin’s kid. You’d still get here. I have no spectacular impact on anyone’s life. There’s not a person who would miss me. No one would even notice, really.” 

“I would notice. And I would miss you.” 

“Not if I had never been born in the first place.” 

“It just... it wouldn’t be the same without you.” I felt nothing but everything all at the same time. Peter was really the only person who had been nice to me lately. Roman was busy all the time and I didn’t want to bug him with me being the way I am. I didn’t even want to bug Peter with it. 

I looked at him, and felt my chest tighten. I didn’t know what I was doing as I leaned in slowly, gently placing my hand on his cheek. Peter leaned in as well, stopping just an inch before his lips touched mine. 

“I‘m just a rebound.” Peter spoke against my mouth, leaning back slightly. I stared at his lips, not feeling the energy to move to look at his eyes as I leaned back in, still unsure what was driving me to lean forwards. Maybe I was desperate. For love. Even if it was fake love. Affection. To be touched and kissed and held. Even if just for a moment. I would do anything to keep this warm feeling I had. 

“Yes, you are.” I whispered, pecking his bottom lip. Peter stayed close, and leaned in quickly, roughly pushing his lips against mine with a desperateness I wouldn’t have imagined I‘d receive. I kissed him back just as rough, running my hand through his messy hair and turning my head to the side. 

Time seemed to fly by with Peter. For the first time in the past few days I hadn’t been thinking about my undeniable starvation. His mouth worked wonders on making me forget, and that both frightened and exhilarated me. 

I laid beside him on his bed, one of my legs bent and my other laid over his leg. I puffed out a circle of smoke, glancing at Peter when he leaned off the bed and grabbed a bottle. He offered it to me, but I shook my head. He popped the lid off, drinking it carefully as he laid back down again beside me. 

“This is the part where I leave,” I spoke up suddenly after awhile of cuddling and talking a little bit. I stood up and gathered my clothes, putting them on as I went. I felt Peter’s gaze on me while I dressed. I had stayed longer afterwards with Peter than I had with anyone else. 

“You don’t have to.” He spoke up as I inspected the small bite marks and hickey’s along my stomach. I didn’t answer, just sent him a glance behind my shoulder and sighed softly. He nodded, looking disappointed as he relaxed, drinking again. “See you tomorrow then.” 

I didn’t say anything as I left, walking to my house. I snuck in my window, changing and plopping down on my bed, heaving a heavy sigh. I rolled my eyes and slammed the pillow over my face as I heard a loud moan come from my parents room. 

Putting my headphones on, I turned my music up loudly and shoved my phone in my hoodie pocket and sat at my desk, opening my computer to a blank document I told myself I’d finish later. Well, it was later and I had no motivation to finish it. I went to the previous page, reading what I had already wrote to remind myself where I was and making sure I didn’t write a scene that was basically the same thing as what was in the last chapter. 

I typed for hours. Nonsense, romance, pining, one-sided feelings. Murder. Blood. Veins popping out of skin like it seemed everyone’s did for me. 

I slammed my laptop shut and ran my hands through my hair, tugging it harshly and groaning softly, though I couldn’t even hear myself with my own music blaring in my ears. 

The window was right there. Perfect opportunity to sneak out, grab a snack and come back, but I refused. I was too far gone. I didn’t trust myself. I had little to no self-control. I didn’t want to kill anyone. I wouldn’t kill anyone. 

So instead I suffered, staying up all night and reading, all the while music blared in my ears. 

The next morning I headed to school, nodding at Roman when I saw him smoking. He nodded at me, then looked as if he wanted me to come over, but I didn’t. I went inside, smiled lightly at Shelley, and hid in the bathroom in a stall. 

The door opened, but I ignored it, rubbing my temples. The strong smell of dog filled my senses. I looked up, peeking out of the stall and seeing Peter. He smiled at me and walked over, walking in my stall without permission and locking it. 

“Hey, there you are.” He smiled down at me. I gave him a soft grunt as a greeting and looked away. There wasn’t much room to move, but I leaned against the opposite wall, looking at the ground by the toilet. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter and gestured for me to take them. “You forgot these at my house the other night.” 

“Thank god,” I whispered breathlessly, taking a cigarette and lighting it. I leaned my head back, closing my eyes and sucking in, letting it huff out of my nose so I didn’t have to take the cigarette out of my mouth. I felt Peter’s hands slip the cigarette packet in my coat pocket, and linger his hand at my waist. I opened my eyes to meet his, taking the cigarette out and blowing it out away from him and raising an eyebrow. “What?” 

“You just... you look tired.” 

“Gee, thanks.” I joked, grinning. 

“You know that’s not what I meant.” I shrugged. 

“I know. I look like shit.” I said nonchalantly. 

“You’ve never looked like shit.” He whispered. 

“Except for right now.” I corrected him. Peter shook his head softly. 

“Even right now you look good.” 

“I haven’t slept in nearly 5 days.” I replied. “And I haven’t eaten in more.” 

“Yet you still look good.” 

“I think you’re high.” 

“High on how beautiful you are.” He joked, but there was a sense of seriousness that lingered there. I don’t know what I was doing, but I cupped his cheek in my hand and leaned up to capture his lips in mine. He didn’t protest, just placed his hand on the wall behind me and leaned in to deepen the kiss. 

I pulled away, but stayed close to him, keeping my eyes closed. 

“Fuck,” I whispered, frowning. 

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked, but I had a feeling he already knew. I sighed softly and opened my eyes, gently rubbing his cheek with my thumb. 

“I gotta go.” I whispered, then I unlocked the stall and left. I couldn’t do this to Peter. I assumed me hurting him in the moment would be better than what would come in the future, so I decided to shut him out. Yes, it hurt like a motherfucker, but I thought it best. So I would do it. 

[hopeishappinessff]

Chapter 41

I felt like I was floating in the sea of pillows surrounding me. As I stretched long and wide, wherever my limbs reached my body felt as though it was being lured into a pure pillowy bliss. I wasn’t fully awake and alert and it took a while for me to recognize that I wasn’t in my own bed. By the time I opened my eyes and gazed around at the space around me, I quickly recalled exactly where I was… and that I was still completely alone. Glancing over to my right, I sighed at the sight of Chris’s empty side of the bed.

Stretching my limbs once more, I yawned and finally sat up so I could climb out of bed. I made my way into the restroom to handle my morning duties then made my way back into the bedroom and out into the hall. I crept slowly down the hall, since I wasn’t sure if he was asleep in the living room or not, and quietly shuffled along into the kitchen. I nearly jumped from my own skin at the sight of Chris perched comfortably on a countertop on the opposite end of the kitchen. Hesitantly, I eased into the space and made my way to the refrigerator. I could feel his relentless stare as he finished up his bowl of cereal, but I only continued to maneuver my way through the fridge in search of his breakfast items.

I pulled a pack of bacon from the fridge and waffles from the freezer then got to work cooking up the two items. I could hear him shuffling behind me, but I paid him no mind as I waited patiently for my waffles to pop out of the toaster. That enticing and airy aroma of his hit me before he closed in, and eventually he slipped into place behind me, pulling me back against him by my waist. "Can you come talk to me when you done eating?" He mumbled, resting his chin against the top of my shoulder. I nodded in response and after he leaned forward and pressed his lips against the side of my neck, he turned and shifted out of the kitchen.

I took my time eating my breakfast. I was in no rush to walk right into whatever it was that he wanted to discuss… the last time we sat down for a conversation, it went completely left and I wasn’t up for part two today. Once I was done, I leisurely cleaned the dishes I’d used, stuck them in the dryer rack near the sink, then finally made my way out into the living room. Chris sat on the couch across from the television bent over with his elbows resting against his knees. He stared at the screen as an episode of Ninja Turtles played and I couldn’t hold back my giggles at the sight of him so in tune with the show. He raised his gaze and smirked then motioned for me to join him on the couch.

He turned down the volume of the TV and cleared his throat, slouching forward into his previous position with his hands linked together and his eyes focused on the floor "I wanted to apologize to you… for last night." “It’s okay,” I muttered with a shake of my head, “You don’t have to apologize to me.” "No… I do. I didn’t mean to be so distant with you like that. After what happened yesterday, I just had to… I had to keep myself away from you for a while.” He explained, leaving me absolutely confused. With a sigh, he sat back from his position and pressed his back into the cushion behind him, crossing his arms over his chest "I don't know if you heard any of the shit that man was saying and I honestly don’t even know why I let him get to me like that. It’s like, one thing he said that rubbed me the wrong way, you know,” His brows furrowed as he swiped his tongue out over his lips and he released yet another sigh, “I guess I did teach you something, huh boy? You got a mean hit… just like ya pops…”

I quietly stared at him as he twiddled with his thumbs and waited patiently for him to continue on. "He told me that I have a mean hit just like him Hope... I have a mean hit like him… the only time I ever witnessed that man hit anybody was…” His jaw clinched repeatedly and he clutched the side of his shirt into his fist as though reliving that moment with his dad all over again as he spoke, “… it was when he hit my mama.” I turned my body so my back was against the arm of the couch and pulled my legs up onto it in front of me. After tucking my legs in and wrapping my arms around them, I rested my chin against my knees and fixed my gaze on the space between us, giving him my full attention.

"Hearing him say that… triggered something in me. It made me feel like he was almost predicting my future in that moment and I ain’t like how that felt. Like, I hate to admit it but my anger is something that I know I inherited directly from him. And now it's something I have to deal with every fucking day of my life and to be honest, it scares me Hope. It scares me to death to know what I'm capable of when I'm under the influence of anger. It's almost like when you watch somebody get drunk... they can't control themselves and they end up doing stupid shit, right? So like when I get angry, I can't control myself then I do stupid shit. Knowing that and feeling angrier than I’ve felt in a long time for the first time last night… I forced myself into isolation and away from you."

"I definitely wasn't mad at you in any way last night. Truthfully, I was mad at myself ���cause that nigga taunted me and I let it get to me… I let it get in my mind. But like I said, I knew I was angry… I always know when I’m angry. That’s the only thing that I have control over for now when I’m in that moment… I have the knowledge that it’s happening, which gives me the ability to respond to it. I’ve done some shit… like, some fucked up shit when I’ve been angry before,” He paused and chuckled humorlessly as he shook his head, “But I knew that with you here, the only thing I could do was be alone and away from you until I could calm down. I’m sorry if you thought you’d done something to upset me… I didn’t intend to make you feel that way at all.”

He left me at a loss for words. I could respect him for being honest enough to explain to me what was going through his mind during his time of turmoil, but I would be lying if I said he didn’t leave my nerves on edge from his proclamation. Because of his lethal anger issues, he had a fear of even being in the same room as me when it got the best of him and that truly frightened me. To know that he had enough of an understanding of himself and exactly how he reacted to anger was the only source of relief for me after he’d explained it all. I finally glanced over at him and noticed the most dreadfully miserable and frustrated expression on his face and that nearly broke my heart. Though I was terrified of the monster that I knew he was forced to carry within, the last thing I would ever do was turn my back on him. It was a card he was dealt in life, almost like a disease that he had no control over and I knew it wasn’t at all his fault. So, as I sat across from him, staring at the gentle giant that was he… I made a mental vow to myself to stand by his side, no matter what.

"How are you feeling now"? I asked quietly. With a shrug of his shoulders, he raised his brows and I watched as his face softened and his eyes lit up "I'm fine now, how you feeling?" "I'm alright, I guess." I said, nodding slowly and smirking. He stared at me for a while, roving his eyes over every inch of my face as though trying to read right into me then smiled suddenly “Come here." I did as he said and rotated onto my knees then crawled toward him and straddled his lap. He sat there and stared thoughtfully at my chest as he bit into his bottom lip. I watched him carefully as he rubbed his one, functioning hand up and down my leg, keeping the other protectively against his chest.

"You mean a lot to me, you know that? I mean you meant a lot to me before, but now that you're mine, you're like my own little personal pot of gold," He paused and chuckled softly then shook his head as I giggled, “I hope you don’t ever plan to leave me… like, ever. If you leave me, it would be just like you taking a gun and shooting me right here.” He reached for my right hand and placed it against his chest, right over his beating heart. “And I really hope I didn’t scare you with anything I just said… I just needed to let you know what was on my mind. I think that’s important, right. I always wanna be able to let you know exactly how I’m feeling and I hope you would do the same. And I wanna thank you for sticking with me through all that shit. You coulda left my ass in that bathroom all night, but you rode for me, you know... got your man all wrapped up and taken care of and I really appreciate that."

I nodded and bit down into my bottom lip as I stared down at his shirt and fiddled with the fabric between my fingers. He lifted my hand from his chest and pressed the tips of my fingers against his lips then gazed up at me through the most perfectly adorable golden puppy eyes "I really like you." I stared at him momentarily then burst into a fit of giggles "You really like me?" He nodded and leaned up to press his lips against the center of the exposed portion of my chest "I really like you." Tossing my head back, I laughed harder as I wrapped my hands around the back of his neck "Well I really like you too."

--

I laughed along with everyone in the group as Rashad attempted to 'spit game' to the cashier at the front of the restaurant and unfortunately for him, the girl didn’t seem even slightly impressed. With the lack of time we’d spent together as an entire group, we’d all agreed to meet up at Millie’s cafe and we occupied one of the largest tables in the establishment. "This nigga so stupid." Dontay chuckled, nodding over at Rashad. "I know man, he know that girl don't want his ass." Destani said with a shake of her head as she stuck a fry in her mouth.

"Nah Dez, you know you don't want that girl to want his ass." Chris stated as if his words were indeed a fact. Destani rolled her eyes at him, sticking a middle finger up in his direction, “None of that now… I’ll go ahead and let your bestie here take care of all the fucking for me, but maybe Shad would be willing to help you out.” The table burst into more loud cackles and I sat up from my leaning position against Chris’s shoulder to slap him on the arm. "Sorry babe." He muttered, quickly reaching up to rub his arm as though it truly pained him.

Rashad headed back to the table a short while later with a deep scowl, but the closer he got to us that quickly morphed into a grin. "What you grinning about dude?" Dontay asked as he stood up, allowing Rashad to slide back into his seat in the booth. "I know ya'll saw that right?" Rashad asked. "Sure did... saw her clowning your ass and you standing up there looking like a got damn fool!” Chris commented as he popped one of my fries in his mouth. “Nigga fuck you!” Rashad exclaimed through an outburst of laughter.

Chris sighed exasperatedly and rested his head against the back of his seat "Oh my goodness, ya’ll just gone keep tryna fuck me, huh? I already said I’m good on that… we are good!” He retorted, motioning his hand back and forth between him and I. “But I told Dez that maybe ya’ll could help each other out with that though.” Rashad and Destani both frowned and simultaneously threw fries across the table at him and he laughed and dodged them. I shook my head at his silly behavior and continued to munch away at my food. After the laughter died down, everyone seemed to venture off into their own separate conversations and without warning, Chris reached down for my arm and pulled me closer. I looked up at him, assuming he was only trying to get my attention, but his attention wasn’t even on me.

"What are you doing?" I asked just loud enough for him to hear. "What you mean?" He asked, dropping his aimless gaze down to me. With a scoff, I playfully rolled my eyes and nudged an elbow against him "Why are you pulling on me?" "Oh, you were too far over there… my side was cold… I wanted you closer." He stated somberly. I laughed and shook my head at him and reached for another fry from my basket, but was suddenly stopped midway. He gripped onto my hand, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the back of the ring finger of my right hand.

"Where you get this from?" He asked, staring intently at the ring. I’d been wearing the thing for quite a while now and it didn’t immediately don on me just where I’d gotten it. The moment I looked down at it though, the memory instantly rekindled in my mind and my heart immediately began to race… "Oh, um... a friend gave it to me." I could feel him staring at me through my peripheral, but I kept my gaze low for fear that if he looked directly into my eyes he would automatically know that I wasn’t telling the full truth.

"Sy," He called my name, but again I kept my gaze low and pretended as though I hadn’t heard him, "Sy'Diyah." "Yes Chris?" "Look at me." He demanded softly. With a sigh, I finally raised my head to lock my own exotic gaze onto his. His eyes roamed all over my face like he was actually reading right into my guilty conscience then he dropped his glaring eyes down to the ring on my hand.

"Where did you get this ring?" He asked. "Can we please talk about it later?" I muttered. He gave me a stern stare, but eventually nodded his head. Relief soon washed over me, but my stomach remained in knots as I thought about the ensuing conversation.

--

"So, why won’t you just tell me who gave you the ring? I mean, I know you said you got it from a friend, but I'm asking who?" Chris pestered as he pulled his truck into my driveway. He shifted the truck into park and left it running to keep the heat circulating. Sitting back and getting comfortable in his seat, he refused to unlock the doors to let me out until he finished his interrogation. I sighed and laid my head back against the head rest, gazing tiredly out the passenger side window "If I tell you where I got it from, can you please let me out?" "Yes." He replied quickly.

"It was a birthday gift... from Trey." I blurted. He didn't move, didn't even flinch, and he wore that sudden expression of stone as I awaited an angry explosion of harsh words. But that never came and he surprised me when he only sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Do me a favor and give it back to him." He said as he shut off the ignition and pushed his door open. I watched him carefully as he shut the door behind himself and walked around to the front of the truck, waiting for me to get out. Finally following his lead, I climbed out and shut the passenger door before slowly and vigilantly walking around to meet him. He’d pulled his phone out while waiting for me to get out and he quickly stuffed it back into his pocket once I was standing beside him.

He wrapped an arm around the back of my neck and together we walked up to the front porch. Once we stood face to face just outside the door, he stood me directly in front of him and gently cupped my face in the palms of his hands to stare into my eyes "Give that ring back. If you want a ring, any kinda ring, I’ll get you one aiight. I’m just not gonna sit back while you walk around with another niggas ring on your finger." I nodded as I gripped onto his forearms and stretched onto the tips of my toes when he leaned down to kiss me. He turned his head to one side to deepen the kiss and I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensation of his tongue ring. “I think you should take it off now." He mumbled as he pressed his forehead against mine and finally pulled back from the steamy kiss.

I giggled and pinched at his sides, earning the cutest laugh from him, just before he pulled me in for a tight hug "I'll take it off when I get in the house. I don't wanna end up misplacing it." "It wouldn't be a bad idea if you did, for real though." He chortled. With a roll of my eyes, I leaned back away from him and left one final sweet kiss on his plump lips then turned to unlock the door. I pushed the door open and turned back to face him, only to find him standing there gawking at me with his hands tucked down into his pockets and his bottom lip tucked away in his mouth. "Goodnight." I whispered. He held up an index finger and quickly stepped forward, landing one final kiss on my lips. I could only giggle at his antics as I pushed him back out of the doorway “Goodnight Chris."