Just a little tomato attempting to write. Writes original stories and mainly fanfiction.
| Ami V Dragnire | ff.net: addicted2tomatoes | ao3: addicted2tomatoes |
Summary: The urges were strong. Pulling, like the sea rushes to shore with a racing certainty. Arthur struggles against the want deep within him knowing that one bite could end it all.
[usuk]
For @inkwells-writing !!! Not as fluffy as I wanted it to be. It had a mind of its own. BUT IT’S NOT ANGST BECAUSE I CAN’T DO THAT AND THERE IS A BADLY WRITTEN KISS. Enjoy!
Available on ao3.
A body gently rams Alfred against the door the moment it shuts behind him. It’s late, well past midnight and dipping into early morn. Familiar fingers lace through his hair jerking his head back exposing his throat. Their shared flat is dark yet fully visible to the person against him. Not even moonlight dares to pry into their business. Emerald eyes muddied by crimson fixed at his neck, unseeing. Jaw wide open, poised to tear into soft flesh.
‘Arthur.’
The vampire stills and pulls him closer. His thoughts are frenzied and wild. Desperate. Animal blood isn’t working. It’s not working. It’s not working. It’s not working. Arthur draws in a sharp breath.
Regret swarms his mind as Alfred’s sweet smell fills his senses, drowning him in want. He can tell. He can feel it. The unique quality to Alfred’s blood that lets it run like an endless stream. He needs it. Craves it. To drink and drink until he drains it all. Alfred’s body would let him. The venom in his bite would make it worse. It wouldn’t stop. He’d bleed until there was nothing left. Just an empty shell. A husk. Dead.
His head falls to Alfred’s shoulder releasing his stranglehold. His weight dropping with it to drag them both onto the floor. That was too close.
‘I’m sorry,’ Arthur mumbles into the fabric, still pressing Alfred against the door. Not fully willing to let him go just yet. He bares his teeth again. Maybe just a taste...
He stops breathing, praying that would curb his hunger, even if it was for just a bit. ‘You need to go.’
The silence that follows is deafening.
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Alfred retorts, strong in his conviction.
He leans forwards crashing his lips into Arthur’s. The peck is hungry and fierce. It develops into a hurricane of desire, sweeping and powerful. Arthur readjusts to straddle Alfred’s lap and they put deeper into one another. Alfred’s hands move to cradle Arthur’s back as the vampire’s wandered upwards to tangle in blond locks. A soft moan slips past Arthur’s lips granting his lover access to his mouth. Alfred’s tongue rushes in to map the hot cavern. Arthur lets his mouth hang open, trying to keep his teeth away from Alfred’s tongue.
A sharp fang nicks Alfred’s lip drawing blood. The smell permeates through the air, thick and heavy. Something stirs within the vampire. The lip keeps bleeding. Arthur quickly licks the small wound slowing sealing it shut. The metallic tinge stays on his tongue as he pulls away running his tongue across his lips to savour the taste. His hands resting on Alfred’s shoulders keeping them apart. Arthur trembles at the first taste of human blood in a long time. His eyes muddy again before he slides them shut dropping his head trying to get ahold of himself.
‘You can’t be here. The substitute blood isn’t working,’ Arthur whispers. The words resting heavy in the room.
‘You told me yourself that it was going to take a while to get used to.’
‘But I’m still craving you!’
Alfred eyes him suspiciously and waggles his eyebrows. Arthur cuffs him on the head for good measure. ‘Shut it you dolt. You know what I mean.’
‘Ow! I didn’t say anything!’ he pouts. Glasses still askew from their previous escapades.
‘I can see it on your face.’
The two share a soft smile. Arthur buries his head into Alfred’s chest pressing them together. The vampire listens to the steady drum of his lover’s heart pumping his blood through thin veins. It’s home. A point of focus when the thrumming in his own ears drowns him in waves of endless noise. Fingers carding through his hair rubbing gently at his scalp.
Safe.
Delicious. His eyes begin to trace up thicken veins looking for a place to sink his teeth into supple flesh and— No. He can’t.
Alfred spies his partner’s eyes flicker to his throat occasionally before flicking back down to toy with a stary piece of thread on his collar. He can see the subdued thirst behind his eyes.
‘Feed on me.’
Arthur stills and sits up properly to look Alfred in the eye. Searching.
‘Alfred…’ he starts. He looks away and moves to lift himself off his lap. ‘I can’t. You know I can’t.’
Alfred holds him firmly in place. He needs him here.
The vampire sighs and remains where he is, ‘Isn’t the point of all this to get me off human blood entirely.’
‘It is.’ The statement feels unfinished. A “but” lingers in the air. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Whatever for, my love?’ Perplexed, Arthur cups Alfred’s cheek rubbing his thumb in soft circles. Arthur's affections send shivers down his spine yet it’s accompanied by so much heat.
‘You wouldn’t have to drink those substitutes if it wasn’t for my condition.’ It is Alfred who looks away in shame this time. He knows that other vampires can feed on their human partners without too many issues. It wasn’t unfair that it was life-threatening to him.
‘Weren’t,’ Arthur corrects with a smirk that disappears as soon as it emerges, ‘This is a lot of apologies for one day…’ He trails off letting the statement hang. It wasn’t fair that Arthur has to trade his natural diet with a substitute. A substitute that wouldn’t give him the full nutrients he needed. To redirect a menacing instinct onto a different source. To keep Alfred safe.
‘Art… let me help you.’
Alfred takes Arthur’s hands into his own giving them a light squeeze. Arthur looks up at him from beneath long lashes before he speaks, ‘I can’t heal you quickly enough.’
‘Then we’ll pick a small vein. Small enough that you can heal it before I lose too much blood.’ Alfred offers a reassuring smile, excitement threatening to bubble over. Soft baby blues sparkle in the warm glow of the room, illuminated by the rising sun behind the curtain. ‘Just to ease you off it since going cold turkey isn’t working for you,’ he quickly adds,
Summary: ‘Can I trust your source?’ the sandy blond asked as he leaned into his guard, resting his head against his shoulder.
There was silence before he received a sharp nod in response from the man seated across from him. His guard’s fingers continued to thread softly through his hair.
‘Time to weed the garden.’
[usuk]
[Bodyguard x Crime Boss]
WARNINGS: Graphic depictions of violence, brief suggestive scene, and coarse language
My submission for the @usukustwiceperyear collection: Uncommon Professions!
Accompanying image here: Bared Teeth
Available on ff.net and ao3
-
A black Rolls Royce pulled up to the side of the building, tinted windows blocking sticky beaked pedestrians from prying. Dark clouds circled overhead like vultures awaiting their next meal. The wind chased loiterers into their homes as streetlights flicked on one by one, their yellow glow illuminating strips of the road on the quickly darkening streets.
Window blinds flickered from the floors above, observing. The blinds fluttered open a couple of times like a coy bat of eyelashes, beckoning.
A man exited the vehicle, holding the door slightly ajar as quick cobalt blue eyes darted across the streets, surveying. Square glasses accentuated his boyish appearance, but his expression remained hardened. The wind caressed his golden blond hair and pulled at the crisp black suit as he checked the area once again. He nodded to occupants in the vehicle before another man stepped out.
He rose to his full height yet stood shorter than the golden blond before him. His piercing absinthe green eyes glanced up at the man accompanying him. The wind took hold of his sandy blond hair, messing with his already tousled locks. Concern marred the bespectacled man’s sharp features.
‘What’s the matter, dear?’ the sandy blond queried.
‘Arthur, we could’ve left this to Mattie,’ he ran a hand through his windswept hair, the beginnings of a pout threatening to form on his face, ‘It was his informant.’
‘He can take care of the riff-raff, Alfred.’ Arthur turned back to the car, dismissive. The taller tapped on the roof of the vehicle, signalling it. The car left, taking the three remaining occupants with it. ‘We’ve got to nip the problem in the bud, correct?’
‘Yes, Boss.’
Adjusting the cuff links of his well-fitting chestnut brown suit, he began walking towards the entrance, his guard following behind him never more than two paces behind.
The first drop of rain hit the pavement as they entered the building.
‘Ah! You must be Kirkland, nice to meetcha,’ greeted a tall, spindly man.
‘The pleasure’s all mine,’ Arthur responded, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake. ‘Grenouille, I assume.’
‘You know it,’ Grenouille said crookedly. ‘Come, let’s talk inside.’
Dusk was shaken off the door frames as they walked down the wooden hall. The pair was led into a drawing room. Despite the brewing storm outside, the room remained illuminated. Grenouille strode to the liquor table, pouring himself a glass, fingers tapping its edge.
‘A drink?’ he offered, raising his glass towards Arthur.
‘No, thank you,’ he spoke with a sigh. ‘I’ve been managing my drinking as of late.’ Alfred offered a small smile behind him. Grenouille gave him a shrug, sipping at the amber beverage as he moved to lean against the central table.
‘May I?’ Arthur gestured towards the armchair. Street lights lit the olive seat through partially opened blinds, the window framed by blood red drapes.
‘Of course.’
Alfred took the seat first, puzzling the host whilst shooting him a sly grin. Arthur sat across his lap, legs falling over the side of the armrest. He shifted comfortably against Alfred as he pulled a smoke from within his jacket. The silence was deafening—until it was interrupted by a dull sound as the lighter sparked.
Arthur took a long drag, exhaling towards the standing man, ‘A little birdie told me that your firm is expanding quite quickly.’
Alfred snickered beneath him.
‘Looking for protection?’
‘I’m here on–’ he paused, rolling the cigarette between his fingers– ‘other business,’ Arthur redirected. Alfred snuggled close, hand cradling Arthur as he leant down to nibble on his neck.
‘You’ve been left unchecked for an embarrassingly long time.’ Arthur remained the image of professionalism as Alfred continued his ministrations. ‘I would have thought the frog might have kept a closer eye on the workings of his men but what did I expect?’
‘Hey, I don’t work for nobody no more.’
‘Clearly,’ Arthur sighed. He took another drag. ‘Civilians aren’t meant to get caught in the crossfire.’
Grenouille set the glass down. ‘Not my problem.’
‘Unfortunately, I believe you and I are in disagreement,’ his tone hardened. The stale air thickened with each passing breath.
‘Yanno, they warned me about you,’ Grenouille started, a sneer forming on his lips. ‘Said you’re some “judge, jury, executioner” type with a leash on the Hounds of Hell.’ He chuckled to himself, casting a smug eye towards Arthur.
‘But cha ain’t that bad. Just a prick with a bark bigger than your balls and a pup for a guard dog,’ he sneered moving closer looking down his nose mockingly.
‘Tell me mutt, is your master a good lay?’
The golden blond growled at him, the sound rumbling deep from the back of his throat. His grip tightened around Arthur’s arm, pulling him closer. His nails digging into the familiar fabric. His nose scrunched, as he bared his teeth ready to rip into the other man if he dared to continue.
‘Alfred. That’s enough.’
Tension weighed on a knife’s edge waiting for either party to tip the balance.
Arthur let a smile slip onto his face, ‘It seems that my reputation precedes me.’ He sent a plume of smoke in Grenouille’s direction, lacing it with smug poisonous green eyes. ‘Though you may not want to play with dogs that bite.’
Thundering footsteps and gunshots rang through the house as sounds of the commotion echoed throughout the room.
‘What the fuck!?’ Grenouille whipped around, eyes wide like a cornered animal. ‘You!’ he screeched at Arthur.
‘What kind of dog doesn’t travel with its pack?’ Alfred mumbled into Arthur’s neck as he drew his gun from beneath his jacket, muzzle trained on Grenouille as he fumbled for his own weapon.
‘Woof,’ Arthur mocked as he slid off of Alfred’s lap, pulling his own weapon from his shoulder holster, the cool metal comfortable in his hands. He dropped the half-finished cigarette into the carpet, grinding it into the fibres with the sole of his shoe. Alfred followed suit and took his position behind Arthur, critical eyes watching the exits.
From outside the room, a body came barrelling into Alfred as Arthur disarms the fumbling Grenouille. He knocked the weapon out of his hand and forced him to the ground. Grenouille kicked at Arthur’s feet, forcing him to lose his balance slightly as he crawls for his gun. Alfred wrangled with his assailant as he’s pinned to the wall, her sharp shoulder digging into his rig cage as he brought his arms up to slam his elbows into her back, causing her to let go. She drew her gun and prepared to fire, only to be thwarted as he slams his fist into her face.
Alfred kicked the attacker’s knee, causing her to fumble. He grabbed onto her hands and twisted around, coming down on his knees and turning the gun in her grasp upside down and fires burying a bullet into her skull. Her brains splatter against the clean walls as blood spills from her head mixing with the carpet dying it a bloody crimson. A drop ricocheted onto his face adding a splash of colour across his cheek. He snatches the gun from her grasp as she crumples whipping around to trains his sights on Grenouille.
Arthur felt the grip of a sweaty palm take hold of his wrist, yanking him back until his back hit the assailant’s chest. The wind was knocked out of him as he felt the cool barrel of a gun pushed against his head. The muzzle resting at his temple. The other arm wedged beneath his throat.
‘D-don’t move,’ Grenouille spluttered, digging the barrel deeper into Arthur’s skull. Alfred internally wavered, frantically running through his options as he finds himself trapped in a stalemate.
‘Don’t move! Or I’ll blow his brains out!’ Rashness spilled out of his throat in gallons. The man looked frenzied, long fingers tight around the gun, quivering.
Alfred curses under his breath, gun still trained on Grenouille, face hardened refusing to back down. His expression remained stoic eyes his eyes wildly darted around flickering between Grenouille, the gun, and Arthur. His heart seized in his chest as he wrangled with what to do.
Grenouille pulled Arthur closer, jostling him around as he sprouted demands.
Arthur knows what he’s doing. He’s going to be okay.
Alfred repeated it like a mantra, over and over, as he tried to hang on to the loss threads of his mind as they slipped from his grasp dropping him deeper into the clutches of fear.
Grenouille’s finger danced on the trigger as perspiration dripped down his brow. Nobody moved. Alfred took a tentative step forwards, praying that he would get to Arthur in time.
Grenouille squeezed.
Arthur knocked the muzzle away from his head as the gun fired. He brought his other arm to hook around Grenouille’s, throwing him to the ground, disarming him. He turned the gun in his hand before lining it up and firing a single shot between the bastard’s widened eyes. His frozen features locked in surprise forced a dry chuckle from Arthur’s lips. Serves him right for underestimating me.
Arthur brushed off his jacket and straightened his tie as Alfred emptied another round into Grenouille for good measure. Red caked the room decorated with a sprinkle of corpses.
The sound of gunfire fizzled out through the house, leaving only laboured pants. Alfred reached over to grasp at Arthur’s sleeve pulling the fabric taut and its wearer with it. Their bodies collided with one another, Alfred wrapping his arms around the shorter blond in a desperate embrace.
A man almost identical to Alfred rushed into the room, weapon at the ready. His hair was longer, framing his face and he had strong mauve eyes. Both blonds raised their weapons still locked in an embrace. Arthur the arm around him tighten, pulling him impossibly closer. The golden blond relaxed as he recognised the newcomer. Arthur gave the man a nod before they lowered their weapons.
‘The composters are on their way,’ the newcomer informed. ‘I’ll take it from here.’
‘Thank you, Matthew.’
They left the building the same way they came, rushing out to avoid getting soaked by the passing storm. The Rolls Royce sat idle in front of the building, the door popping open as they approached. Arthur slipped into the back seat, acknowledging the two women in the front seat before being followed by Alfred. The divided was pulled shut as the car started down the desolate road as soon as the door clicked shut.
He barely had any time to rest his head against the other’s shoulder before Alfred was on top of him. His thoughts of a restful drive home interrupted by the overeager guard.
Frantic hands fumbled with his buttons, pulling and tugging at the cloth and slipping his shirt off his shoulders. Calloused fingers brushed across his exposed skin sending shivers down his spine, darting from place to place with vicious movements.
‘Now really isn’t the time Al—’ he murmured, taking hold of Alfred’s wrists in an attempt to slow things down. The hands broke out of his grasp as they kept running across his skin, frantic. Searching.
Mapping every valley, nook and cranny of his body.
Never lingering on the same patch of skin for longer than a moment.
Searching.
Searching, searching, searching.
Oh.
He wrapped his arm around the other’s neck, causing his actions to stop, and he pulled Alfred to his chest. The heavy thump of Arthur’s heart rested beneath his ear, the rhythm, steady.
‘Hey, hey. Sssh,’ he whispered. His voice nearly drowned out by the sound of heavy breathing, the drums beating in his ears and the soft patter of rain against the roof. ‘I’m okay,’
He repeated those words into the other’s hair, carding his fingers through it lightly. With care, he grasped the bespectacled blond’s chin, pulling him closer with bated breath. Green eyes met blue in a comforting silence before they leant in, slowly sharing a chaste kiss, the pressure of their lips lingering as they pulled apart.
Arthur let a small smile grace his features, still holding Alfred close enough that their lips brushed when he spoke—
Uncommon Professions: A Collection of Fanarts, Comics and Fanfics
Hello, everyone! Mayumi Sato here! I’m glad to bring to you our third collection of fanarts and fanfics! I will give you guys some links first and then you can keep reading to get more information of what this is all about!
You can download this collection in two different formats! PDF and JPG! Here are the links for you!
PDF format.
JPG format (compressed in rar).
JPG format (compressed in zip).
Now, please keep reading this post to get some additional info and extra links, such as where to vote on the theme for the next collection! =D
USUKUS in Uncommon Professions — a thematic event to produce fanfics and fanarts.
What is this event about?
Like the previous one, this is an event in which authors and artists who are fond of USUK/UKUS will produce works inspired by a theme. This time, this theme will be Uncommon Professions. All participants have to register and send their works to us until a deadline (which may be extended but try not to assume this) so we will organize everything in a collection in JPG and PDF formats.
To those who have tasted me upon your tongues, remember my flavour. I may be knowledge or an element yet you worship me still. Your need for me, your compulsion swells and twists from just one taste. The draught that glitter in your hand. See it shimmer. See it shine. Drink me. Feel me as I dance down your throat. Indulge in me.
There was once a man. A man who was simply a king. He lusted for me. I was his vice, his evil, his fortune. I had him in the palm of my hand, dancing. He danced a silly little dance, to the tune of his desires and his greed. I watched him twirl about merrily. The tune soon grew louder and louder, his greed drowning everything. He made a wish to the gods for more. More fortune, more riches. Poor poor Midas, wretched little Midas. My hands became his and his world turned into riches with every touch. (And they say what a rich man wants is nothing.) He had what he wanted but not what he needed. His precious wine and bread became encased in my beguiling beauty. He passed not long after. Starved and dry surrounded by immeasurable wealth and fruits he could not eat. Nothing had changed.
Tell me, what has changed? Tell me, is it the simple things in life? Are they parts of days gone by? Or simply small nothings spoken in our daily lives. Tell me the story, sing me the song of what once was and will be. Tell me the reason for all that has happened. Time and time again. I am still a source of desire. I decorate museums and dress old buildings. I am stored away. I am stolen. Fought over. Killed over. I am your pain, your suffering. An addiction. Come closer, let me see you. Let me feel you. Watch me drag my fingers down your arms and the goosebumps rise to attention. Follow me as I drag you into a never-ending cycle of want. Those who dream of fortune, be warned. I am both a blessing and curse. I am everywhere.
You see, I am there when you buy your bread and butter. I am the reward for a hard day’s work. I am a fortune.
I am gold.
Yet my story is not finished. I am money, I am wealth. I am part of your desire. No one is safe from me. Some may want me, some may need me. Others hate me whilst some love me. But I cannot be controlled. Try as you may, I will haunt some and be the downfall of many. Like greedy King Midas. He could not have a taste of his food nor water for it had become gold.
Do see me for what I am, a simple piece of rock beneath the sand. Dig me up and use me wisely. My beauty attracts the eyes of many. Guard me well. Though sometimes I am likened to knowledge and people. It is my physical form that should be feared.
Those who lust for me, beware the taste that I will leave. It will imprint itself upon your tongue and melt in your brain as a drive, a desire for material gain. Do not wish for me. I am everywhere. My presence lingers in the air. I can cause many to do what they should not. I can take the life of mortals though not intentionally.
Heyyy I’m just some random guy that likes reading fics. I don’t know everyone on this website so please just send me a message if I missed you or your friend/s uifklweafksj thank you. Some of these are personal blogs while some are writing/art blogs but most have their own tag for their fic!
Edit: I can’t seem to tag some people so if the link doesn’t work, you can search their url on the search bar!!
Summary: A little letter to accompany my usuk weekly jam drawing.
[usuk]
My darling, Queen of Spades,
Arthur, my darling, my sweet, this is my gift to you.
I see the power that embraces you. Your beauty shines brighter accompanied by your strength. Your magic, legendary. Yet with vile hands, it tears at your soul.
You sink deeper and deeper into yourself. The still pool of your mind contaminated with ripples that distort who you are. I promise, no matter how far you sink, or how deep you fall, I will always jump in after you. To stay with you even when you are lost in the caverns of your mind.
I see those hands that pull you into the murky depths. The hands that caress you with the weight of guilt and pain. Caging you with bars of fingers and flesh. I promise to pull you from your bonds, and, if I am not strong enough to do so, hold you in my arms forever.
No matter what, I will stay by your side. No matter when I will be there. No matter why I will love you with all my heart.
Summary: It’s during the cold mornings when the lovers meet.
[prucan]
Day 2 prompt from 2017 PruCan Week: Tempt/Touch
hahaha this is a month late but hey, I did it
For @dearqueenofspades Thanks for inspiring me to actually write something.
Available on ao3 and ff.net.
[Edit] Waahh I found a tonne of typos... TT^TT must.... fix...
The wind whistled through the trees ruffling her green locks as the moon smiled upon them. Soft lamplight laced the footpath as cold steps echoed across the pavement. The temperature dropped as he passed. Morning dew froze into tiny icicles, littering the ground with a frosty sheen.
Matthew walked along the familiar street. His hair shinning under every streetlight. Ice followed in his wake coating everything in his frosty image. The stream adjacent to the path trickled gently. The bank freezing slightly framing the edge of the stream forming a deep mirror for the moon to admire herself in. It was a quiet night.
Withered leaves collected at his feet as a gust of wind approached from his left. Fog rolled in with grace and the air stills.
'Good morning Gilbert,’ Matthew says, greeting the previously vacant fence. He tucks his hands into the front of his clothes, more out of habit than out of being cold. Seemly obnoxious laughter resonated from the misty figure now seated upon the white picket fence. Crimson eyes glowed from his misty form.
'Mornin’,’ Gilbert replies observing the frozen figure before him. ‘What’s a pretty bird like you-’ he looks up just in time to catch Matthew’s flushed face- 'doing all alone at a time like this?’
'Hoser.’
Matthew glared at Gilbert’s translucent face only to break into a warm smile. Gilbert imitated the grin shyly as he floated around him. Moisture picked at Matthew’s skin only to freeze on contact. The road before him disappearing behind a thick layer of mist.
Matthew’s eyes fluttered shut as he leant in to give Gilbert a peck on the lips. It was a soft kiss, barely touching. He pulled back slowly revelling in the little time they had.
They sat together, head tucked into another’s neck, back against the fence. The frosted grass cushioning them as they whispered nonsense to one another.
'You’re so beautiful,’ Gilbert sighed twirling a frost-bitten dandelion between his fingers. Brushing Matthew’s hair aside, he tucked the flower behind his ear.
'Says you, you mystical fool,’ Matthew refuted. Pink dusted Gilbert’s lucent cheeks.
'Ha,’ he said degrading, 'all I do is get people either lost or killed.’ Matthew regarded him with a furrowed brow, resignation set firmly in his mauve eyes, 'Don’t we all.’
It was barely above a whisper yet it was deafening in the silence.
Time trickled by before either of them spoke again.
'It’s not like we can really help it anyway.’
'Hmm.’
Light began to fill the tranquil scene. Water began to drip from the sun-kissed tree tops dampening the ground below. Matthew looked towards the sky only to have a droplet land between his eyes.
Gilbert laughs.
Unimpressed, Matthew flicks his melting fingers at the laughing man, covering him in a splatter of water.
He stood slowly, brushing himself off before offering his hand to the seated man.
'My brother will be here soon…’ Matthew muttered, glancing over at the brightening horizon. He turned back to Gilbert, mauve eyes locking with crimson.
'See you tomorrow?’ Gilbert whispered. Reaching out to cradle Matthew’s cheek with his wispy hand.
'Of course,’ Matthew chuckled, resisting the temptation to lean over and kiss him again.
Daylight spilt over the horizon, his burning rays caressing the Earth’s frosted skin. Light refracted off the frozen shards, sprinkling the ground with a rainbow of colour.
Blinding light encased Matthew, and then, he was gone. Nothing but the moist ground and morning fog remained.
Summary: "we have the power of dragons. we have the hearts of humans; therefore, we do not belong with monsters. we are a form taken by dragons to conserve their strength and survive in a world which no longer permits our full existence.“
Arthur watches over Alfred, regardless of what he is.
Read on AO3
@dearqueenofspades Thank you for writing this for me!!!! <3
Summary: It's dark and deep. The rich colours swallowing, chewing me up. Then, there is light.
WARNING: Tragedy, violence, suicide attempt, original story
Available on Inkitt
Whispers haunt my disorient mind. Bleached lamplight dives in through the ghostly curtains, dancing along the towering walls. Red washes away the peaceful melancholy, flooding it with agony. The cold air caresses my punctured arm picking at the broken scabs and nudging more blood from my veins. Its instigator lay a distance away. Its smooth sharp edge dyed in this dirty red colour. It’s okay. This body lives for Mother. Mummy’s little boy. So it should die for her. She doesn’t love you. Mother is better off without me. No one needs me. Surrounding colours blur into one, finally resting on a deep dark black.
Warmth beckons me to consciousness, removing me from a disturbed sleep. Soft beeping awakens me completely. A bitterness fills my mouth, I failed.
The bell chimes with another day's end. Should I try again tonight? My body aches, bandages and blemishes riddle my scrawny figure. No girl, I jest with myself, no one would find me attractive, but that’s okay. Okay, alright, all fine. People of this small town don’t. Everyone knows everything about anyone around here.
I notice a presence moving towards my desk. She stands, introducing herself as Lucy followed by a dazzling smile. New I suppose, not often round these parts, they never stick around me for long, no one does. Why would they? I’ve heard what they say about me. The boy with the wounds. They ask and I tell them I’m fine. All fine, okay, alright. She pulls me from my musing with one heart-stopping statement.
‘Let’s be friends!’ she said. Not again. Not another one. I simply nod at her. Unsure of how to respond. She shyly smiles at me and scurries away, her earth coloured hair following her joyous steps. Her rose coloured cheeks burnt in my memory.
She’s here again, Lucy, day after day balancing the torturous night with her blinding smile. I get home, it’s dark. I see her and the bleak world lights up again. She never asks, and I thank her for that. She might be the reason I even bother coming to school, let alone anywhere. Lucy: light, born at dawn, daylight. She epitomises her very name. She captures my soul, her essence, her being.
‘Maybe, I’ll visit you someday?’ directing her inquisitive eyes at me. Time stood still. Thoughts race around and around my head. Overwhelmed, I nodded in response. I duck my head, praying she hadn’t noticed the burning heat in my cheeks.
The daze fades and I realise my mistake. My head snaps back to her only to find empty space. She's gone. I'll tell her tomorrow. Grabbing my gear, I trudge out of the now empty classroom and back to the dark night.
I drag my feet across the pavement, an unconscious attempt to prolong my return home.
I close the door behind me tracing the familiar wooden grains filled with memories. Both good and bad. Silence bellows through the dark hallway. Incoherent mumbling follows. Thoughts race through my head; do I run? Is it worth it?
No, stay. What's the point?
It’s not her fault. It's okay, I'm alright, I feel fine.
Stay.
A beast lunges towards me, her claws pinning my neck to the door, denting it once again and imprinting it with more memories, only a shell of her former self.
‘Hello darling, how was school?’ her nails digging further into my skin. My breath hitches. It hurts.
‘Answer me.’
Pausing my already laboured breathing, I let out a whimpered reply. Her grip releases and I topple over in a desperate attempt to stay conscious. She delivers a blow straight to my stomach slamming me against the door. It hurts. I pull myself up. I close my eyes accepting what is soon to follow.
Battered with bruises, I inspect the bloody scene. Lingering sensations capture my soul pricking it with fire only found in hell. Mother sits crying. Mother…? Don’t cry. I let off a whimpered groan hoping to gather her attention.
‘I’m sorry, sorry,’ staggering towards me arms open, hands dyed in blood. My blood. Red. Oh, that devilish colour. The metallic tang eats at my nose and I hug my broken form closer. She picks up my fear and staggers away, mumbling apologies followed by possessive rants to herself, fighting for control of her sanity.
My thoughts drift endlessly through a labyrinth of memories, plucking them like a harvest picking the ripest fruit. Lucy, was it? She has this sweetness to her. A drink of sunshine. Luscious chocolate hair, springing with each step. Rattling off anything she could possibly think of, passionate with every word. She lives for herself. My tortured breath hitched in my throat. There was something she told me once. A while back.
Live for yourself.
You're fine. No, I'm not.
It's okay. No! This isn't right.
I'm alright...
‘No more,’ I say, my heart racing, ‘I can’t watch you do this to yourself, to me. Please.’ She stops her muttering and engulfed by the beast she was before, lunges at me. She cards her fingers through my hair with the softness and affection a mother would show to her child.
I wince in pain as she grips my hair, dragging me to my knees. I catch a glint in the dark and all when still. Cold metal skims across my flesh. Red leaks from my body, I release a shrill shriek, panting. The silence is mauled by my screams. She can’t do this to me anymore, it isn’t right.
Ding dong.
She stops and throws my head back. I groan on impact, looking up at her, still wielding the blade. She marches towards the ringing door pulling it open with no second thought to the scene behind her. I squint at the blinding light adjusting my eyes to recognise the guest. A naïve smile with chocolate cascading hair. Colour drains from her face. No no! Why her, why today?! She stumbles back, her eyes fixed on my broken frame, traumatised by my gaping wounds.
‘Run, get away, run! Lucy, please, go!’ My lips parting.
‘Mother don’t do it.’
All I could do was watch. Fixed and frozen where I lay. Cold tears pricking at warm open cuts.
‘Mother…please, don’t.’
I watch as she readies to strike. Her arm pulled back, ready to swing in a deadly arch. I launch myself forwards gripping at her clothes, anything to deter her murderous path.
‘This isn’t you.’
She halts her advance; her stoic face drops and turns to me. I stare into the eyes of my mother. Her deep blue eyes drowning me. The same deep blue I saw against the sky as I looked up at her as a child. A small smile used to grace her lips.
Her face rips into a sickening grin. My vision blurs, sheltered by running tears, I hear a scream. Something wet, damp. Splat. Metallic.
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