Past-Part Fills Post 1 -- CLOSED
Thanks to anon's suggestions we are now enforcing a past-part fills post
Fresh past-part fills post HERE
Comments and Suggestions go here
Don't forget to link your new fill at the fill index over here.
Remember though that you need not post your updates unless you posted in a new part
Keep yourself up to date -- check out the NEWS HERE
England looked up.
Greater men had fallen to lesser forces. England-the British Empire, the pirate, the mystic, the gentlemen, the hopeless-was the kind of fortress most men dreamed about kneeling in front of. Sometimes, instead of moving forward, one has to stop, and still, and see. Defeat is so many different words. The grass at the base of the stone is soft enough to linger in.
America didn’t really care. He just knew that England’s fingernails kept brushing against his hip, and England’s eyes were too much like the sea at high tide, and that he couldn’t spend another day with this all packed up inside of him. It had to come out, and he had to touch, and he had to say something. Anything.
England’s hand shook, just once in surprise, under his shirt. “What?”
“I am. I’m an ungrateful brat.” America lifted his hand. It was so easy. Easier than he thought it would be, to trace a line down the slope of England’s nose. “You gave me everything I asked for and more. You took care of me. You still do. You try not to, but you’re a stubborn and stupid old man, and so you end up doing it, anyway, even when you hate yourself for it.”
“W-what are you-”
“I should be grateful. I’m not.” America swallowed; it went down like glass. “I want more.”
And even easier, like releasing a hold of something that cut into his palms, to rub his thumb over England’s bottom lip and then, because the contact burned straight to his gut, stop. Stop and take England by the shoulders instead, England with the shrewd but bewildered eyes and slowly growing flush, England who didn’t even fight when America firmly pushed him down flat on his back against the sheets. America went with him, forcing his weight between those frozen legs until England’s thighs stretched snugly on either side of him.
America nosed England’s collarbone, digging his hands underneath the dinner jacket that got in the way. It seemed all right, so he said his thoughts. “Sometimes I wish I could bury myself in you.” Hoarser than he’d meant. “Get as close as possible, every inch of us, ‘cause we’ve been sorta close, and we’ve been far apart, but we’ve never been together.”
England made a choked noise.
Inches away from his face, America grinned.
And there, at last, pressed down the length of England’s body like a single seam, America said all that he needed to say.
At some point, England twined his fingers in America’s hair and yanked it ruthlessly to shut him up. And then he kissed him, just so. And then America kissed him just so, lazy and wet and perfect, and even the noises of the bedsprings when they shifted set his nerves on fire.
They never made it to dinner.
to come
To mend a shirt, there were a few golden rules England realized always applied:
One. Do not ask questions.
Two. Do your best work, even when you’re angry.
Three. Make do with what you have. What you have might be better than you imagine, once it all comes together.
end
Reply
And the longing between them...it shone so clearly through the page and made the conclusion all the more heartwarming. To think it all started with a single button...nnngh. This is the kind of fill that reduces me to near-incoherence because I'm just so floored at the vivid emotions and lovely style and everything else, and that is the highest praise I can offer to a fic, anon.
Reply
Thank you for such lovely feedback. <3 I really appreciate it, since I was a bit worried about this one.
Reply
When I clicked on the link, this epic fill was the last thing I expected to read. It was so beautifully written and you could just feel the emotion. I adore your characterisations of them as well. It was awesome~
Reply
Thank you. :)
Reply
Seriously. ♥
Reply
Oh my GOD.
This was...it...it made me want to smile and cry and cheer and all sorts of things! Aah, it seems like forever since a fic made me feel like this...I absolutely love it to pieces! You captured everything so perfectly! ^_^
All my love and more for you, Author!Anon! All of it!
Reply
Reply
Just, beautiful, anon. So well paced and built up and such wonderful atmosphere and tension between them the whole time. Gorgeous ♥♥
Reply
Reply
I'm so glad you liked it. My eternal love for you for sharing Mommy England sewing adoration! Er. At least, I assume you must, having asked for it.
... England and embroidery should not be so snug-worthy.
1,972 kebobs? That is an awful lot of kebobs, ReCAPTCHA.
Reply
Reply
This is gorgeous and perfect and pure utter genius, my dear. I am very very glad I clicked this.
Thank you. :)
Reply
(Thank you so much for giving it a go. Really, thank you.)
Reply
The sheer tenderness between them here is amazing; particularly England and the repressed affection for America and his inability to refuse him and oh, America so hopeless. Thank you so much for writing this; it was wonderful.
Reply
Ngggh. Sewing. Oh God this is just so beautiful and the meanings and the titles and the sewing and and and
*tears up*
I wonder if France knew what was happening.
Reply
Leave a comment