Re: Wish part 3/?
anonymous
March 1 2010, 22:25:08 UTC
Thank you so much for all the comments! I'm glad OP is liking it~ <33
--
Alfred smiled then and reached up to cup Arthur’s cheek, pulling him down so that their bare chests were pressed flush against eachother. Breathing his name quietly, Alfred rolled them over so that Arthur was lying on his back under him, arms over his head and clutching at the fabric of the couch as Alfred rocked against him.
Arthur closed his eyes. It was always easier to allow the moans to slip past his lips when he couldn’t see Alfred’s flushed cheeks and hazy eyes.
He felt Alfred lifting his legs, hooking them over his shoulders as the thrusts came faster, deeper. Alfred’s breath was hot against his neck and he could feel his lips against his skin, forming whispered words that Arthur couldn’t quite make out.
Arthur was breathing harder. His lips were parted to gasp for breath as he curled his toes and arched up against the body pressing down on him. Alfred’s hand had at some point snaked between them to stroke him roughly in time with his thrusts and Arthur willingly surrendered himself to the heat clouding his thoughts.
It wasn’t so bad once the pleasure pushed out his doubts; it was almost enjoyable. Arthur shuddered and held onto the moment, because he knew that once he came reality would return. The warmth would fade and that heavy hollowness that was fast becoming familiar would settle back over him, swallowing him whole.
Re: Wish part 4/?
anonymous
March 1 2010, 22:28:34 UTC
~*~
Alfred loved this.
He loved falling asleep at night with Arthur tucked against his side and their legs tangled together. He loved dragging him to McDonalds and coaxing him into eating at least one fry and then laughing at the expression he would make. He even loved waking up in the mornings and finding Arthur in the kitchen attempting an egg and sausage breakfast, although he would much prefer that Arthur just stay in bed with him.
All in all, he was in love, really stupidly, fantastically in love.
Alfred smiled at the thought, remembering how long it had taken him to come to terms with it. He drew his fingers along the line of Arthur’s jaw, stroking a thumb over his wet, kissed red lips. Arthur still had his eyes squeezed shut and was panting softly, bushy eyebrows furrowed together, strands of blonde hair clinging to his forehead.
Gently, Alfred sat up and let Arthur’s legs drop from his shoulders as he pulled out of him with a slight hitch of breath. He leaned back, not caring that they had probably stained the sofa, content on simply watching Arthur catch his breath as he carefully peeled the condom off his softening length.
After a moment, the older nation stirred. He stretched his legs out carefully before sitting up and sliding off the sofa, wincing at the stickiness coating his stomach.
“What’s the rush?” Alfred asked, tilting his head as he watched Arthur move about the room and gather up his discarded clothing. “Let’s take a shower together, Art.” He grinned and got to his feet, tossing the rubber in the wastebasket before making his way over to where Arthur was standing.
Arthur glanced over his shoulder at him and frowned slightly, clumsily pulling up his boxers and fumbling to get his foot into his pants, shoulders tense. “I have paperwork to do. We both do, actually. In fact, you probably have even more than I do since you let it pile up all the time.” He was talking quickly, almost incomprehensible.
The smile slid from Alfred’s face as he watched Arthur struggle with the buttons of his shirt.
“I don’t have that much…” Alfred paused. “Just stay for a little longer. You can do work tomorrow.” He wrapped his arms around Arthur’s waist and pressed a light kiss between his eyebrows.
Arthur fell still then sighed and leaned against him, hands falling to his sides as he gave up on buttoning his shirt. “… Tomorrow then…” he trailed off doubtfully, glancing about the room.
Alfred beamed and pulled back, taking Arthur’s hand and tugging him towards the doorway. “Let’s take that shower.” He grinned and Arthur followed.
--
Sorry short update! (and I'm not sure yet if this is going to have a happy or sad ending...)
I'm a sap for a happy ending; I'd suggest that you put them on the brink of complete emotional destruction (as another anon said) and then pull them back together again somehow. Not necessarily in an 'I love you so much let's go get married' way, but a sort of hope that maybe it can work out for them in the end. (Perhaps England having guilty inklings of true love that he can't understand?)
Such a beautifully heartbreaking fic. Wonderful, wonderful job.
Re: Wish part 4/?
anonymous
March 1 2010, 23:29:14 UTC
I'm very curious to see where this is going. So far, this story feels so emotionally realistic it hurts. Not a cheerful story at all, but I'm going to keep reading. It's well done!
Re: Wish part 4/?
anonymous
March 2 2010, 02:59:11 UTC
Ahaha, I knooow who you are, angst-loving-anon~ <3
This is such an wonderfully angsty, bittersweet fill anon~ Its really wrenching to see Alfred so happy even while Arthur, the person he loves most, is so miserable.
You've done a really great job of capturing the mixed emotions--I really liked that you're includingboth of their POVs for this story; it really helps the reader get an understanding of the situation on both of their sides.
Poor Arthur...he tries to fool himself but he isn't all that fooled, really. Which makes this believable in a very hurtful way Also, Alfred's chapter was a winner move. It immediately made us feel sympathy for him, and also believe why he'd be fooled, because Arthur's doubts and consequent actions are subtle and really, if you're in love you wouldn't suspect a thing. Poor fools! I wonder what Alfred's reaction will be the thw whole thing... ...but I'm getting ahead of myself and I hope it doesn't come soon. Continue delivering excellent hurtful chapters, anon!! ;)
Re: Wish part 5/?
anonymous
March 19 2010, 22:23:54 UTC
sorry... this is late... anon had a lot of work to do D:
--
Francis knew something was wrong. It was obvious, really. He was sure that he wasn’t the only one noticing the shadows of purple circling Arthur’s eyes or the slump in his normally perfect posture. He could see Japan’s anxious glances at the summits, the concern pinched between Hungary’s eyebrows, and even the small, concerned frowns Spain sent Arthur's way occasionally. They saw it, they all saw it.
But no one said anything.
Francis wasn’t sure if their silence was out of politeness or simply because no one wanted to interfere with England and America’s relationship. Maybe it was a bit of both.
But as long as Arthur’s personal issues weren’t affecting the other nations, why bother with it?
Why bother, Francis mused, watching Arthur across the conference table. The Briton was staring down at his papers, eyes unfocused, and hair somehow seeming even more of a mess than usual.
Knowing Arthur, he probably wouldn’t even want him to get involved. Francis tapped his pen against his pursed lips. No, no he wouldn’t just leave this matter alone.
It was after the meeting when Francis cornered him.
“Been getting enough sleep, mon lapin?” Francis hummed, leaning against the table as he watched Arthur shuffle his papers into a neat pile before sweeping them into his case.
Arthur glanced up at him and narrowed his eyes in annoyance as he snapped his case shut. “What do you care, frog?” He pushed his seat back and Francis almost winced at the harsh sound of the legs of the chair scraping against the tiled floor.
“If you came over here only to pester me I’ll be excusing myself,” Arthur said, brisk and dismissive, eyes already flickering away. He got to his feet and grabbed his case, brushing past Francis towards the door.
Francis wasn’t going to let it go that easily.
He snagged Arthur’s thin wrist and firmly pulled him back. “And how is America? You know that I am the country of love, Arthur. I am always willing to give out advices, even to someone like you.” He kept his tone light and fixed a teasing smile in place, but Arthur flinched back as if he had struck him.
“Why would I need your advice?” he hissed, jerking his head.
Francis stared at him, grip on his wrist momentarily tightening, as he took in the flash of something in Arthur’s narrowed eyes. I know something’s wrong, he was about to say before a gloved hand settled over Arthur’s shoulder.
“Are you two fighting again?” Alfred asked brightly, tilting his head questioningly at Francis as he wrapped a protective arm around Arthur.
The older nation quickly released Arthur’s hand and took a step back, smiling smoothly. “Ah, when are we not fighting, hm?” He arched an eyebrow and caught Arthur’s gaze, sending him a knowing look before moving past the couple to leave.
“What did he want?” Francis heard Alfred ask Arthur as he walked by them.
“Nothing. He was being a prat is all.” Arthur murmured back, a troubled frown creasing his lips.
Re: Wish part 6/?
anonymous
March 19 2010, 22:27:24 UTC
~*~
Francis found him later that day in a pub.
He chuckled when he spotted Arthur sitting slumped in a stool at the bar, staring gloomily into his drink. Typical.
“You are so predictable,” Francis sighed as he took a seat next to him and raised his eyebrows when Arthur turned to him with a blank expression. “And how much have you been drinking, cher?”
Arthur shrugged and pushed his drink away from him, rubbing his fingers through his short hair. “Why are you here?”
Francis shrugged and drummed his fingers along the glass counter of the bar, sweeping his long hair back over one shoulder. “Why are you miserable? You finally have your America back.”
Arthur flinched and pursed his lips, thick eyebrows bunching together.
The two fell silent for a long moment, both seeming to be lost in thought as they listened to the background chatter of the pub around them. Arthur had returned his gaze to his lap and was worrying his bottom lip with his teeth.
“Do you not love him?”
Arthur snapped his head up and scowled. “Of course I do…” he trailed off and shook his head.
Francis stared at him. “You just do not love him in that way.”
Arthur’s green eyes narrowed to slits as he slapped his hands down and got to his feet, only stumbling slightly. “Shove off,” he growled. “You don’t know anything, I love him in every way and-” he broke off angrily and cursed under his breath as he grabbed his coat, yanking it on and turning to shove through the crowds towards the exit.
Francis sighed and didn’t bother to try and stop him.
~*~
The whole house seemed to tremble when Arthur knocked the front door open and kicked his shoes off, practically ripping his coat off and tossing it in the direction of the coat hanger.
He stumbled through the dark hallway, hissing curses all the while before turning into the kitchen.
Alfred was sitting at his table, two bags with the McDonalds logo stamped across them sitting there innocently. Alfred glanced up from the hamburger he was plowing through, eyes brightening when his gaze fell on Arthur. “Art! Where were you? I brought dinner for us and… were you drinking again?” Alfred asked when Arthur moved closer and he could smell the smoke and drink on him.
“Sorry…” Arthur murmured, staring down at Alfred. He cared about him, he really did. Maybe… maybe…
He leaned down and tilted Alfred’s face up, pressing their lips together in a sloppy kiss, moving into his lap and wrapping his arms around his neck.
Alfred made a soft sound of surprise, taking a moment before he enthusiastically kissed back, circling arms around Arthur’s slim waist. “Arthur…” he murmured against his lips, smiling and pulling their bodies closer. “That’s the first time you’ve kissed me first.”
“That so?” Arthur asked, distracted as he slid his palms down Alfred’s back to the bottom of his shirt, tugging it up over his head.
Alfred lifted his arms and let his shirt get dropped to the wood paneled floor, pushing his chair back and lifting Arthur easily to set him on the edge of the table. He lifted Arthur’s hand and kissed his palm before working on the buttons of his shirt, trailing his lips across each inch of newly exposed pale skin.
Arthur sighed and drifted his fingers through Alfred’s short hair, trying to convince himself that the numb flutter in the pit of his stomach was desire. He trailed his gaze across the American’s broad, bare shoulders and smooth skin. Why wouldn’t he want Alfred like that? He was beautiful… he was…
Alfred looked up and Arthur choked back a sob when he met those blue eyes.
-- another short update... sorry guys... I just wanted to post this so it was clear I wasn't giving up on it
Ouch, this fic hurts so good. Poor Arthur, being such a private person, he wouldn't seek help or even counsel. Good thing Francis, for all his meanness at times, really cares about him and is very observant
Poor Al! He's so happy and brights up just being in England's presence...I feel so bad for both of them...it was nice seeing England questioning why he couldn't feel attraction toward Alfred, being handsome and all...I also liked when you mentioned that nobody wanted to get in the way of America and England's relationship, and I liked the way you described England's body language, particularly during his conversation with France. Nice!
--
Alfred smiled then and reached up to cup Arthur’s cheek, pulling him down so that their bare chests were pressed flush against eachother. Breathing his name quietly, Alfred rolled them over so that Arthur was lying on his back under him, arms over his head and clutching at the fabric of the couch as Alfred rocked against him.
Arthur closed his eyes. It was always easier to allow the moans to slip past his lips when he couldn’t see Alfred’s flushed cheeks and hazy eyes.
He felt Alfred lifting his legs, hooking them over his shoulders as the thrusts came faster, deeper. Alfred’s breath was hot against his neck and he could feel his lips against his skin, forming whispered words that Arthur couldn’t quite make out.
Arthur was breathing harder. His lips were parted to gasp for breath as he curled his toes and arched up against the body pressing down on him. Alfred’s hand had at some point snaked between them to stroke him roughly in time with his thrusts and Arthur willingly surrendered himself to the heat clouding his thoughts.
It wasn’t so bad once the pleasure pushed out his doubts; it was almost enjoyable. Arthur shuddered and held onto the moment, because he knew that once he came reality would return. The warmth would fade and that heavy hollowness that was fast becoming familiar would settle back over him, swallowing him whole.
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Alfred loved this.
He loved falling asleep at night with Arthur tucked against his side and their legs tangled together. He loved dragging him to McDonalds and coaxing him into eating at least one fry and then laughing at the expression he would make. He even loved waking up in the mornings and finding Arthur in the kitchen attempting an egg and sausage breakfast, although he would much prefer that Arthur just stay in bed with him.
All in all, he was in love, really stupidly, fantastically in love.
Alfred smiled at the thought, remembering how long it had taken him to come to terms with it. He drew his fingers along the line of Arthur’s jaw, stroking a thumb over his wet, kissed red lips. Arthur still had his eyes squeezed shut and was panting softly, bushy eyebrows furrowed together, strands of blonde hair clinging to his forehead.
Gently, Alfred sat up and let Arthur’s legs drop from his shoulders as he pulled out of him with a slight hitch of breath. He leaned back, not caring that they had probably stained the sofa, content on simply watching Arthur catch his breath as he carefully peeled the condom off his softening length.
After a moment, the older nation stirred. He stretched his legs out carefully before sitting up and sliding off the sofa, wincing at the stickiness coating his stomach.
“What’s the rush?” Alfred asked, tilting his head as he watched Arthur move about the room and gather up his discarded clothing. “Let’s take a shower together, Art.” He grinned and got to his feet, tossing the rubber in the wastebasket before making his way over to where Arthur was standing.
Arthur glanced over his shoulder at him and frowned slightly, clumsily pulling up his boxers and fumbling to get his foot into his pants, shoulders tense. “I have paperwork to do. We both do, actually. In fact, you probably have even more than I do since you let it pile up all the time.” He was talking quickly, almost incomprehensible.
The smile slid from Alfred’s face as he watched Arthur struggle with the buttons of his shirt.
“I don’t have that much…” Alfred paused. “Just stay for a little longer. You can do work tomorrow.” He wrapped his arms around Arthur’s waist and pressed a light kiss between his eyebrows.
Arthur fell still then sighed and leaned against him, hands falling to his sides as he gave up on buttoning his shirt. “… Tomorrow then…” he trailed off doubtfully, glancing about the room.
Alfred beamed and pulled back, taking Arthur’s hand and tugging him towards the doorway. “Let’s take that shower.” He grinned and Arthur followed.
--
Sorry short update!
(and I'm not sure yet if this is going to have a happy or sad ending...)
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The warmth would fade and that heavy hollowness that was fast becoming familiar would settle back over him, swallowing him whole.
This is a gorgeous sentence; I don't think I've ever seen such a good description for this kind of emotion. So much love! <3
(and I'm not sure yet if this is going to have a happy or sad ending...)
I ... actually don't have a strong preference either way; I'm just interested in seeing where the story takes you. And us! ;D
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Such a beautifully heartbreaking fic. Wonderful, wonderful job.
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This is such an wonderfully angsty, bittersweet fill anon~ Its really wrenching to see Alfred so happy even while Arthur, the person he loves most, is so miserable.
You've done a really great job of capturing the mixed emotions--I really liked that you're includingboth of their POVs for this story; it really helps the reader get an understanding of the situation on both of their sides.
I can't wait to read more, you angst-kitten~
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Also, Alfred's chapter was a winner move. It immediately made us feel sympathy for him, and also believe why he'd be fooled, because Arthur's doubts and consequent actions are subtle and really, if you're in love you wouldn't suspect a thing. Poor fools! I wonder what Alfred's reaction will be the thw whole thing...
...but I'm getting ahead of myself and I hope it doesn't come soon. Continue delivering excellent hurtful chapters, anon!! ;)
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--
Francis knew something was wrong. It was obvious, really. He was sure that he wasn’t the only one noticing the shadows of purple circling Arthur’s eyes or the slump in his normally perfect posture. He could see Japan’s anxious glances at the summits, the concern pinched between Hungary’s eyebrows, and even the small, concerned frowns Spain sent Arthur's way occasionally. They saw it, they all saw it.
But no one said anything.
Francis wasn’t sure if their silence was out of politeness or simply because no one wanted to interfere with England and America’s relationship. Maybe it was a bit of both.
But as long as Arthur’s personal issues weren’t affecting the other nations, why bother with it?
Why bother, Francis mused, watching Arthur across the conference table. The Briton was staring down at his papers, eyes unfocused, and hair somehow seeming even more of a mess than usual.
Knowing Arthur, he probably wouldn’t even want him to get involved. Francis tapped his pen against his pursed lips. No, no he wouldn’t just leave this matter alone.
It was after the meeting when Francis cornered him.
“Been getting enough sleep, mon lapin?” Francis hummed, leaning against the table as he watched Arthur shuffle his papers into a neat pile before sweeping them into his case.
Arthur glanced up at him and narrowed his eyes in annoyance as he snapped his case shut. “What do you care, frog?” He pushed his seat back and Francis almost winced at the harsh sound of the legs of the chair scraping against the tiled floor.
“If you came over here only to pester me I’ll be excusing myself,” Arthur said, brisk and dismissive, eyes already flickering away. He got to his feet and grabbed his case, brushing past Francis towards the door.
Francis wasn’t going to let it go that easily.
He snagged Arthur’s thin wrist and firmly pulled him back. “And how is America? You know that I am the country of love, Arthur. I am always willing to give out advices, even to someone like you.” He kept his tone light and fixed a teasing smile in place, but Arthur flinched back as if he had struck him.
“Why would I need your advice?” he hissed, jerking his head.
Francis stared at him, grip on his wrist momentarily tightening, as he took in the flash of something in Arthur’s narrowed eyes. I know something’s wrong, he was about to say before a gloved hand settled over Arthur’s shoulder.
“Are you two fighting again?” Alfred asked brightly, tilting his head questioningly at Francis as he wrapped a protective arm around Arthur.
The older nation quickly released Arthur’s hand and took a step back, smiling smoothly. “Ah, when are we not fighting, hm?” He arched an eyebrow and caught Arthur’s gaze, sending him a knowing look before moving past the couple to leave.
“What did he want?” Francis heard Alfred ask Arthur as he walked by them.
“Nothing. He was being a prat is all.” Arthur murmured back, a troubled frown creasing his lips.
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~*~
Francis found him later that day in a pub.
He chuckled when he spotted Arthur sitting slumped in a stool at the bar, staring gloomily into his drink. Typical.
“You are so predictable,” Francis sighed as he took a seat next to him and raised his eyebrows when Arthur turned to him with a blank expression. “And how much have you been drinking, cher?”
Arthur shrugged and pushed his drink away from him, rubbing his fingers through his short hair. “Why are you here?”
Francis shrugged and drummed his fingers along the glass counter of the bar, sweeping his long hair back over one shoulder. “Why are you miserable? You finally have your America back.”
Arthur flinched and pursed his lips, thick eyebrows bunching together.
The two fell silent for a long moment, both seeming to be lost in thought as they listened to the background chatter of the pub around them. Arthur had returned his gaze to his lap and was worrying his bottom lip with his teeth.
“Do you not love him?”
Arthur snapped his head up and scowled. “Of course I do…” he trailed off and shook his head.
Francis stared at him. “You just do not love him in that way.”
Arthur’s green eyes narrowed to slits as he slapped his hands down and got to his feet, only stumbling slightly. “Shove off,” he growled. “You don’t know anything, I love him in every way and-” he broke off angrily and cursed under his breath as he grabbed his coat, yanking it on and turning to shove through the crowds towards the exit.
Francis sighed and didn’t bother to try and stop him.
~*~
The whole house seemed to tremble when Arthur knocked the front door open and kicked his shoes off, practically ripping his coat off and tossing it in the direction of the coat hanger.
He stumbled through the dark hallway, hissing curses all the while before turning into the kitchen.
Alfred was sitting at his table, two bags with the McDonalds logo stamped across them sitting there innocently. Alfred glanced up from the hamburger he was plowing through, eyes brightening when his gaze fell on Arthur. “Art! Where were you? I brought dinner for us and… were you drinking again?” Alfred asked when Arthur moved closer and he could smell the smoke and drink on him.
“Sorry…” Arthur murmured, staring down at Alfred. He cared about him, he really did. Maybe… maybe…
He leaned down and tilted Alfred’s face up, pressing their lips together in a sloppy kiss, moving into his lap and wrapping his arms around his neck.
Alfred made a soft sound of surprise, taking a moment before he enthusiastically kissed back, circling arms around Arthur’s slim waist. “Arthur…” he murmured against his lips, smiling and pulling their bodies closer. “That’s the first time you’ve kissed me first.”
“That so?” Arthur asked, distracted as he slid his palms down Alfred’s back to the bottom of his shirt, tugging it up over his head.
Alfred lifted his arms and let his shirt get dropped to the wood paneled floor, pushing his chair back and lifting Arthur easily to set him on the edge of the table. He lifted Arthur’s hand and kissed his palm before working on the buttons of his shirt, trailing his lips across each inch of newly exposed pale skin.
Arthur sighed and drifted his fingers through Alfred’s short hair, trying to convince himself that the numb flutter in the pit of his stomach was desire. He trailed his gaze across the American’s broad, bare shoulders and smooth skin. Why wouldn’t he want Alfred like that? He was beautiful… he was…
Alfred looked up and Arthur choked back a sob when he met those blue eyes.
--
another short update... sorry guys... I just wanted to post this so it was clear I wasn't giving up on it
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Poor Al! He's so happy and brights up just being in England's presence...I feel so bad for both of them...it was nice seeing England questioning why he couldn't feel attraction toward Alfred, being handsome and all...I also liked when you mentioned that nobody wanted to get in the way of America and England's relationship, and I liked the way you described England's body language, particularly during his conversation with France. Nice!
Ad thank you for including bonuses ^^
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YEEEEEYYYY!!!!!!
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