Heaven Sent (1a/1)
anonymous
March 27 2011, 01:26:48 UTC
Ring…ring…
“…Hello?”
“Hey, you busy right now?”
“As a matter of fact, git, I actually have to prepare for a meeting with the Student Council.”
“WHAT? Aw, come on…!”
“Yes, as much as I hate to disappoint you, it sort of comes with being the President, in case you’ve forgotten.” Scoff. “Which you no doubt have, since you never remember anything I-”
“I need you.”
Pause.
“…R-right now?”
“Right now.”
“…”
“When’s the meeting?”
“U-u-um, i-in forty five minutes.”
“Ha, that’s plenty of time! Meet me in five?”
Gulp. “E-Emily, I really don’t think we should-I mean, this isn’t-”
Giggles, and then a purr, “Oh, c’mon, Artie. Just one round, one little quickie, and then I’ll let you go back to your precious Presidential duties in peace.”
“I-I-I just…”
“We can do it in that room where you have French.”
“…”
“Artie?”
“…”
Moan. “Oh, baby, please…”
“Alright, alright! No need to sound so obscene, you twit!” (Blush)
“Awesome! So, see you in a few?”
“…I suppose.”
“Double awesome! I’ll be waiting~”
Call ended.
“…”
With wide green eyes, he stares down his phone, his ears still ringing with that infernal (sweet, melodious, beautiful) voice that had just spoken to him. His heart begins to pound, pumping blood that paints his pale cheeks crimson and makes his body tense up, and his free hand clenches into a tight fist.
Heaven Sent (1b/1)
anonymous
March 27 2011, 01:32:42 UTC
Arthur Kirkland likes to think of himself as a man who always retains the utmost sense of propriety. He is a native of England, after all, and, if there’s anything he’s father’s taught him, it’s that English gentlemen are strong, stoic, mannerly figures. They never lose their composure over the most insignificant things, regardless of how irritating they are (i.e. a certain fro-French student who was not only a childhood rival, but had somehow become his vice president; said vice president’s two annoying friends who seem to get off with stressing Arthur out; and, of course, a certain American git who never follows the fucking rules regarding her school uniform-just to name a few, I mean).
It is also a universal truth that English gentlemen-like Arthur-do not falter when it comes to matters of the heart. They did not spend their moments of solitude longing for that certain, special person to always stand by their side, always greeting them with a smile that was so bright it could be compared to sunshine. They didn’t constantly glance at their phone every time school would let out; just in case that certain person would decide to call them and ask (hmph, more like beg) the gentlemen to hang out with them (“Hang out”… “Have sex”…They’ve become synonymous, really).
And English gentlemen certainly did not spend their nights dreaming of a girl with blue eyes, golden hair, soft lips that curled as she mouthed words of undying affection, and such a gorgeous body…
(Ahem.)
Nope, they most certainly do not.
So, needless to say, when Arthur opens the door to his French classroom, his heart does not skip a beat when he sees her sitting on the nearest desk, her head turned as she stares at the wall with thoughtful eyes and a small smile. He does not take notice of how the light from the sun shines from the window behind her, reflecting on her chin length, curly hair and making her glow more than usual.
And he most certainly does not blush brightly at the sight of how high she’d tied the hem of her school shirt into a knot, revealing her entire midriff that, along with her short pleated skirt, leaves little to the imagination…
Nope, he most certainly does not. That redness on his face is just, is just…
Anger! Yes, that’s it, Arthur thinks as he nods furiously to himself.
Once he steps in, he shuts the door, loudly so he’ll catch the American girl’s attention. Emily blinks out of whatever daydream she’d been having, and she turns her head to see Arthur approaching her with narrow eyes and furrowed bushy eyebrows. Oblivious as ever, she smiles widely at the boy and lifts her hand to wave.
“Hey, Artie!”
“God damn it, Jones,” he snaps, and then gestures at her. “How many times do I have to tell you to wear your uniform properly? Look at yourself, you like a bloody tart!”
Emily laughs and stands from her seat. “It’s great to see you too. And a ‘bloody tart’…?” She scratches her hand with a crooked smile. “That doesn’t sound like a good sweet at all…”
One of Arthur’s eyebrows twitch. “It’s not a candy, you git! It means-oh, forget it, you don’t understand!”
“No, not really,” when seeing his face redden with rage, Emily laughs. “Dude, chill. It’s just ‘cuz you’re always speaking your weird British language. Try speaking American, then we’ll talk.”
Arthur clenches both his fists at his sides and glares heatedly. “I still speak English, you git! Proper English, might I add!”
“Eh, whatever you say.” Emily examines her manicured nails nonchalantly.
His previous twitch returned with a vengeance as Arthur ground his teeth. Then he snorts and turns on his heel, lifting his head high.
“If this is how I’m going to be treated, then I might as well go back to work. Good day to you, Miss Jones-”
Heaven Sent (1c/1)
anonymous
March 27 2011, 01:38:42 UTC
His walk towards the door is interrupted by a pair of lithe arms wrapping around his neck and a supple body pushing flush against his back. Arthur’s heart jumps and his breath hitches.
“Don’t be like that, Artie,” a soft croon against his ear. “You know I’m only kidding.”
He swallows harshly, and his pulse quickens even more when he feels Emily push her ample chest against him. Then it practically stops when she brushes her lips against a spot under his ear, and starts to kiss down his neck at a tantalizingly slow pace.
“Please stay, Arthur, just a little while longer.”
Bollocks, that’s not fair. Emily knows how much he loves it when she says his name, his proper name. Arthur can’t help but blush.
“I promise I’ll be a good girl.”
…Oh, you little minx.
Arthur scowls and reaches up to remove her arms. “There’s nothing good about you.”
Emily blinks, her eyes briefly full of hurt until Arthur turns around and faces her with dilated green eyes. He stares at her for a few moments, and then starts to shake his head.
“No, nothing good,” he practically whispers as he places one hand on her hip, and then gently cups the back of her neck to bring their faces only centimeters apart. “Nothing good at all.”
Emily smiles wickedly up at Arthur (who’s only a few inches taller than her) and then grips his navy tie to bring him even closer, until their lips brush.
The American moans softly, then wraps her other arm around the Brit’s neck to deepen the kiss. As her eyes flutter close, Arthur’s eyelids lower to half-mast, allowing him to observe her for a few seconds. Then his eyes close and he threads his hand through Emily’s soft curls, returning the kiss, slowly, yet an undertone of passion.
He parts from her for a brief moment to turn them around and he gently backs her up against the classroom wall. Emily nibbles her bottom lip and lids her deep blue eyes sultrily, which coaxes Arthur to crash his lips onto hers with less restrained enthusiasm. Emily in turn gasps and willingly parts her lips to allow Arthur to explore her mouth hungrily, just as he reaches between them and runs a hand across her stomach. He groans at the feel of warm, soft skin, and Oh, fuck, he wants more.
With that same hand, Arthur reaches up and unbuttons her school blouse quickly and skillfully. Then with the other he unties the knot and runs his hands across the flesh that wasn’t unfamiliar in any way. When he sneaks inside her bra and gently fondles a soft mound, Emily parts from him and lets out a small whimper.
She reaches out and tugs Arthur’s beige sweater vest upward. Once it’s quickly removed, she sets to work on unbuttoning his shirt, which she accomplishes with as much skill as he had with hers. Arthur groans at her light touches and bends his head down to press hot, wet kisses down her throat, her collarbone, and he continues onto her chest.
“Ah!” Emily squeezes her eyes shut and throws her head, her cheeks flushing.
Arthur’s eyes flash, and as he gently coaxes one breast out in the cool air, he can’t help but smirk hotly around the sensitive flesh.
“Oh, Arthur!”
Slightly long, manicured fingers thread through his ashy blonde hair as a hand pushes against his head.
“Lower,” she moans breathily. “Oh, God, lower…”
Arthur lifts his mouth and scoffs mockingly. “Honestly, you brat. I thought you knew better.”
“…Please?”
“There’s a lass.”
Emily rolls her eyes, but then bites her lip as Arthur slowly kisses her stomach. She unconsciously spreads her legs wider, which the Brit quickly takes notice of, and he starts to nibble and suckle on her skin with something akin to desperation. With each breath he takes, he smells her, tastes her, and it’s driving Arthur insane.
Heaven Sent (1d/1) [Final]
anonymous
March 27 2011, 01:45:43 UTC
Once he reaches the top of her skirt, Arthur lifts the red plaid material to expose more of those teasingly long legs, and he unconsciously licks his lips in an almost predatory fashion. Then he presses his mouth to the top of Emily’s right thigh. When he feels the American start to tremble, he lifts the leg up to hoist it on his shoulder.
As he tenderly mouths at her inner thigh, Arthur keeps his gaze on Emily, watching as she tosses her head back with a dark blush, how she silently parts her lips, how she claws at the wall behind her for purchase. He can’t help but half-compare her to an angel and a demon. Because in his eyes, she is so stunning, irresistible-but this is a problem as well, because no matter how hard he tries, he can never seem to resist the hot temptation she invokes in him.
It’s painful sometimes, when he contemplates the possibility that these liaisons with Emily will one day end. After all, this little arrangement between them is only temporary. One day, Arthur knows, Emily will meet someone better, someone who will not hide how he feels, has a better temper, and is probably even a more fulfilling lover. And that will, no doubt, be the day that Emily will leave Arthur behind. When that day comes, he knows he’ll probably regret opening up his walls to her, as well as his longing to have something more with her.
But right now, as he looks on her glorious visage, Arthur feels he wouldn’t trade moments like these, where it’s just him and Emily Jones, for the world.
No, nothing good.
Emerald eyes smirk as a hot, hungry mouth bites the patch of skin that is closest to her most intimate area. Emily gasps and lets out a low moan, and those smirking eyes gleam.
Author!Anon Notes
anonymous
March 27 2011, 01:53:58 UTC
(looks up) Where the hell is the smut?!
There was supposed to be smut in this, I swear there was! Somehow, though, it just...poof!
Lol, seriously, though, I'm really sorry if this isn't what you wanted OP. But I tried, really, I did.
I've never written regular!England before...I'm kinda used to writing fem!England. But I promised myself that I would do a story featuring male!Arthur, and this was the result. As you can guess, this was also my first time writing fem!America--and I'm pretty sure it shows. (Also, I know you preferred "Ally" for her name, but I have a bit of a soft spot for the name "Emily". Sorry!)
As for the title, yeah, I know--there are probably millions of stories here inspired by Placebo's Every You and Every Me. But once again, I tried.
I honestly never thought this would be filled, but I was spoiled with not only a fill, but an AMAZING ONE. So hot, a!anon. This was above and beyond anything I had ever imagined. Thanks for this amazing fill, a!anon!! :D And you used one of my favorite songs for inspiration, so. 8D I'm with the anon above, I would LOVE a sequel. But I got spoiled as is! This was really, really great. Thanks so much for filling!
Passions Spent (Sequel) 1a/1
anonymous
April 6 2011, 01:10:07 UTC
“That’s strange.”
“Eh? What is?”
“It’s almost fifteen minutes until the meeting starts, and Arthur-san isn’t here yet.”
“…And this is of concern, because?”
“Well, usually Eyebrows would be sitting at his chair and waiting for the meeting to officially start by now…”
“Hm, now that I think about it, I didn’t see Emily-san at practice today.”
“…”
“Francis-san?…Why are you smiling like that?”
Scoff. “I’m pretty sure we don’t want to know, anyway.”
“…Oh, it’s nothing Kiku, Michelle. Nothing at all.”
Francis shifts his gaze to the closed door and his blue eyes narrow. Rosbif, you dog, you. Hon-hon-hon.
--
Emily F. Jones likes to think she knows everything about Arthur-but whenever she has this confidence, the British always manages to surprise her in some way.
“Oh! Oh, my God!”
Like now, for instance-when she’s lying on a bare teacher’s desk, her shirt open and her breasts bouncing freely, clinging to the sides of it with a tight grip, having her hips grasped tightly as another (slightly bony) pair grinds against them, their owner filling her over and over with thrusts that are slow, almost tender. Said owner lets out a dark chuckle and leans over to breathe against her ear.
“Careful, love,” Arthur whispers. “We don’t want to get caught, now do we?”
Emily bites her lower lip and keens as she leans her head back, giving a wordless permission for Arthur to press his hot, wet lips against her neck, which, of course, he does.
“Or perhaps you want to get to get caught.”
With a light gasp, her blue eyes snap open.
Arthur nips at the base of her neck, and then chuckles. “Such a naughty little slag, you are. Bet you wouldn’t mind anyone seeing you act in such a shameless state, would you?”
…Damn. Emily wraps her arms around his back, sliding her hands under his open shirt to dig her nails into his skin. Arthur makes no sound of approval at the gesture, but the fact that his he starts thrusting just a little faster, harder, and Oh, fuck! Instinctively, she arches her back and begins to pant raggedly.
“Right there, love?”
“Mm, yeah,” she moans against his neck, just as he continues to brush against that sweet spot inside her. “Oh, fucking God, yes…”
Arthur snorts against the crook of her neck, where it met the shoulder.
“As much as I love the Lord and all,” he growls, almost sarcastically, “I really don’t appreciate Him being on your mind when I’m fucking you.”
Emily giggles and loops an arm around his neck, leaning forward to lick and suckle on his earlobe.
“I’m sorry, baby,” she coos. “But you should know you’re the only thing on my mind right now.”
The British boy grunts and buries his face further, but then grinds his hips against hers, a sign that he really isn’t upset.
Emily’s smile widens as her fingers curl around the back of his neck and she starts to kiss and suckle that tender spot underneath his ear, the spot that she knows always makes Arthur shiver.
“Nnh!” She doesn’t have to look at him to know that he’s gritted his teeth, just to restrain his groans. The blush rising from his neck, as well as how he twitched inside her, was enough proof of Arthur’s straining control.
Emily giggles; her Artie really is adorable sometimes.
Passions Spent (Sequel) 1b/1
anonymous
April 6 2011, 01:12:11 UTC
“Oh, Artie,” she coos in his ear. “You don’t need to control yourself around me, you know that.”
She feels, more than hears the whimper vibrate in his throat, a sound that he no doubt will deny. Emily bites her bottom lip, grinning, and grinds her hips up onto his, a gesture that causes Arthur to grunt in surprise. She then clenches her muscles around him, to which Arthur groans and buries his face further into her neck.
“Bloody hell, git,” he growls, his accent thick (which makes Emily melt inside, but Artie doesn’t need to know that), “I won’t last if you keep that up.”
Emily puckers her lips into a pout, and she whines, “But Artie, I’m so close! Don’t you wanna make me come?”
Arthur stiffens and since she’s so close, Emily can feel the heat of the blush on his cheeks, which just makes her smile. She turns her head to press a kiss to one hot cheek.
“Come on, baby,” she says. “I bet you can make me come so hard I’ll dirty the desk. Wouldn’t you like that? Violating this desk, knowing how pissed your French teacher would get…”
Suddenly, much to Emily’s surprise, Arthur starts to snicker to himself. She pulls back, one perfectly shaped eyebrow raised, and quickly takes note of the manic glint in the British boy’s forest green eyes, how his thick eyebrows furrow, how his lips pull up into that (sexy) evil smirk that he’d use whenever he felt like being especially sadistic.
“God, yes.”
Arthur takes hold of her wrists and pins Emily down on the desk, which makes her heart jump. Before she could say anything, Arthur rolls his hips into hers, giving her a particularly hard thrust. The sensation is so great; Emily can’t help but let out a breathy moan. She shudders and arches her body up against his.
“I hate that motherfucker of a teacher,” Arthur growls near her ear, practically smacking his hips to hers. “Giving me a D, can you believe him? I had to go Bonnefoy for tutoring-and even that blasted frog does a better job at teaching than that fucker!”
As she tosses her head back against the desk, Emily braces her feet on its edge, and then uses them as leverage as she thrusts her hips back, trying to take him in deeper, harder, faster-Oh, fuck!
This probably goes without saying, but Emily loves it when Arthur gets angry. Not pissed as in, “I’m-going-to-hate-you-forever-no-matter-how-many-times-you-apologize” angry, but the regular way Arthur would get angry, usually when someone was disobeying the rules. When his pupils would dilate comically, his face would flush, his mouth open and yelling out profanity, his hot British accent getting thicker and showing its colors…
Now, imagine that same passion of Arthur’s put to a much better use-like fucking, for example.
“Ah!” Emily screams. “Arthur!”
Arthur replies by letting out a low dark chocolaty laugh and he laces his fingers with hers.
“I can only imagine the look on that fucker’s face,” he continues. “He’ll probably throw a fit in class tomorrow-and I’ll just sit back and smile secretly, knowing that my lovely wench and I had sullied his precious desk…”
Passions Spent (Sequel) 1c/1
anonymous
April 6 2011, 01:16:28 UTC
Arthur pauses all movement.
“D-did I go too far…?”
“Just a little,” despite her reply, Emily can’t help the wide grin that spreads across her face.
Almost immediately, Arthur lets go of her hands and buries his face against her neck, curling against her as if he wanted to get swallowed up by some interdimensional warp. Knowing him and his little obsession with Doctor Who (which he continues to deny), it’s probably not a bad guess at his thought process.
“I-I-I’m sorry!” he says self-consciously, his ears pinking adorably. “I was just trying to sound, to sound-”
“Sexy?”
“Yeah…”
Aw! Artie’s so fucking cute. With slightly pink cheeks, Emily giggles softly and runs her fingers through the poor boy’s ash blond hair, making sure to be as gentle and comforting as she can.
“Oh, Artie, don’t worry about it, really.” I really like how you always make an effort to keep my interest. “You’re actually getting better at this.”
“Stop making fun of me,” Arthur grumbles.
I’m not. Emily frowns, wishing (not for the first time) that she could say what’s in her head-all the words she hopes might comfort Arthur in some way, give him the confidence he needs. Because, as much as he denies it or hides behind whatever hardened mask he’d crafted for himself, Emily knows firsthand that Arthur has one hell of a low self-esteem. Sure, it hadn’t been that obvious to her when she’d first interacted with him during the course of their first two years of attending World Academy, but her eyes had been opened the summer before, when she and Arthur had first slept together.
Emily hums thoughtfully and stares up at the ceiling, her hand still threading through Arthur’s choppy locks. What can I do…what can I say…?
Something catches her baby blue eyes; a wooden chair behind the desk, one that had been carved of an ornate design, with a red cushion on the seat and the arms covered with a plush red leather covering. Emily blinks at the seat, and then a small smile forms on her face.
“Hey, Artie?”
“Yeah?”
“How long until your meeting starts?”
Arthur glances up to check his watch. “Ten minutes. Why?”
“I’ve got an idea.” Her grin grows as she nods her head. “Take a seat.”
Arthur looks up to stare at her with flushing cheeks and a confused expression. Then he sees the chair and his eyes glint with a recognition of some kind, one that causes his blush to increase. But Arthur doesn’t argue; he pulls out of her, with some reluctance, and walks to sit on the chair. With a shimmer of nervousness flashing in green, he watches as Emily stands and walks over to him. She straddles his lap, lifting herself up so that her sex is hovering over him, and she smiles widely at his crimson face.
“Takes you back, doesn’t it, Artie?”
Arthur blinks, and then scowls-though if one were to look a little closer, you could see the embarrassment and shame in his eyes.
“You promised you wouldn’t mention th-AH!” His eyes widen as Emily sits on him, taking him in once more. Then they clench shut, his mouth parting to let out soft groans of pleasure and his hands tightly clenching at the arms of the chair.
Passions Spent (Sequel) 1d/1
anonymous
April 6 2011, 02:11:10 UTC
Her eyes flutter closed as she lets out a soft moan of longing with each inch she takes in. Once he’s filled her to the hilt, Emily opens her eyes and cups Arthur’s face in her hands, which causes him to open his eyes and lock onto hers. Emily smiles softly and leans down to kiss him deeply before slowly starting to lift her hips up and down. Arthur’s groan vibrates between their joined mouths, and shakily, he brings his hands up to touch her, one going to one of her hips and the other cupping the middle of her back, as if to pull her closer.
Emily parts from Arthur, panting softly, and then begins to press soft kisses on his cheeks. As her hip movements quicken, gradually bringing them both to their precipice, she starts to kiss down his neck until she gets to the base, which she suckles with relish.
Closing her eyes at the pleasure building inside her, Emily listens to each choked cry Arthur lets out-almost as if they were music to her ears.
--
Arthur is still blushing as he tries to straighten his clothes, so it wouldn’t be so obvious that he’d recently been participating in a little “rumble-tumble in the hay”, as the saying goes.
…Or, at least, Emily thinks that’s how it goes.
Eh, it probably doesn’t matter, she shrugs as she buttons her shirt. When she’s done, she pulls it up and ties it into a high knot so her midriff is showing again. From the corner of her eye, Emily catches Arthur staring and turns to look at him, raising an eyebrow wryly. The boy’s blush increases and he snaps his head to look away, frowning and closing his eyes.
“Going to dress like a delinquent again, are we?” Arthur huffs.
Emily smiles. “I thought I was a ‘bloody tart’?”
“Tch, that too.”
“Well, in that case, yes, I am.”
Arthur stares at her for a few silent moments, and then he smirks. “One day I’ll get you to see it my way, and then you’ll wear the proper uniform.”
“Gee, where have I heard that before?” Emily cups her chin, looking mockingly contemplative. “Oh, right! Didn’t you say that you would one day get me to stop eating hamburgers?”
“Well, ye-”
“-And that you would one day get me to like your cooking? Which is still horrible, by the way.”
“Hey-”
“And then there was that one time you said that you would one day prove that your little fairy friends exist-when you were drunk, might I add?”
“All right, all right!” Arthur blushes with embarrassment. “I get the point.”
The American girl laughs softly and walks over to him. She takes his tie in her hands and tries to straighten it out, (blatantly ignoring the voice inside her head, telling her how much she looks like her mom when Dad’s leaving for work).
“One day, Artie, I’ll get you to see that you can’t just control me, like you do to the rest of the school,” Emily promises, looking at him with a bright smile. “One day, you’ll realize that there’s no way you can get rid of my pure heroic awesomeness!”
For a moment, Emily sees something flash in Arthur’s eyes-something that always seems to show up whenever Arthur is around her, in particular-something that is quickly hidden away as he hardens his eyes again. He doesn’t know that she saw it; and he doesn’t know that seeing it makes her heart ache in a way that it’s never done before.
“Whatever.” Arthur snorts. “I’m not going to give up.”
“And I won’t either,” Emily nods and winks playfully, releasing his tie. “Now, go to your meeting and do…school council president things-whatever it is you do!”
Then she leans forward to press her lips against his in a chaste kiss, which makes Arthur blush, of course. When Emily parts from him, she sees that emotion again in his beautiful green eyes, and, despite the smile she carries, her heart clenches. She heads to the door and walks out, calling and waving at him from over her shoulder.
“Later, Artie!”
Unknown to Emily, Arthur watches her leave, and the sadness in his eyes shows openly before he lets out a sigh and begins walking to the meeting…
Passions Spent (Sequel) 1e/1 (Final)
anonymous
April 6 2011, 02:19:10 UTC
Once she gets her beloved bomber jacket from her locker, Emily starts heading home, her face still beaming, but her eyes steely with determination.
One day, Artie, I’ll get rid of it-that sadness, that loneliness, that pain you seem to carry.
She puts her hands in her pockets, her footsteps against the concrete of the sidewalk being the only sound echoing in her ears.
I’ll find out what I’m doing wrong, what I’m doing to hurt you (because you’re too much of a stubborn ass to tell me, but whatever, as a hero, I’ll take it, for now), and I’ll try to fix it.
And then, I’ll finally make you smile.
~Pucker up, our passions spent~
--
A/N: Well, here's the smut I promised. Sorta...
Okay, I'll admit this now--this ending was a little rushed. Because of that, the ending is probably a little confusing to you. For that, I'm sorry. But I was asked to do a sequel, and I thought--"Aw, hell, why not?" (I seem to think this a lot...)
I hope it was somewhat good enough for you to enjoy, though. ^^ I actually do have ideas for the future, but I might post them on my ff.net account. If anyone wants, I'll post the link to it later.
Re: Passions Spent (Sequel) 1e/1 (Final)
anonymous
April 6 2011, 05:22:30 UTC
O-oh god ;A; this fill.
Like the anon above said, it's so sad and hot at the same time. I liked seeing Emily's side of this, but baww... if they just knew, they're so close, yet so far away.
And if you do post more ideas, tell us <3 I'd love to read more of this AU.
Re: Passions Spent (Sequel) 1e/1 (Final)
anonymous
April 11 2011, 09:21:01 UTC
YOU WILL MAKE ME THE HAPPIEST LADY EVER IF YOU WRITE MORE AND TURN THIS INTO A LONG, EPIC FANFIC WHERE THEY GO THROUGH DRAMA AND EVENTUALLY SOLVE THEIR PROBLEMS AND RUN OFF INTO THE SUNSET TOGETHER AND MAKE BEAUTIFUL BABIES!
“…Hello?”
“Hey, you busy right now?”
“As a matter of fact, git, I actually have to prepare for a meeting with the Student Council.”
“WHAT? Aw, come on…!”
“Yes, as much as I hate to disappoint you, it sort of comes with being the President, in case you’ve forgotten.” Scoff. “Which you no doubt have, since you never remember anything I-”
“I need you.”
Pause.
“…R-right now?”
“Right now.”
“…”
“When’s the meeting?”
“U-u-um, i-in forty five minutes.”
“Ha, that’s plenty of time! Meet me in five?”
Gulp. “E-Emily, I really don’t think we should-I mean, this isn’t-”
Giggles, and then a purr, “Oh, c’mon, Artie. Just one round, one little quickie, and then I’ll let you go back to your precious Presidential duties in peace.”
“I-I-I just…”
“We can do it in that room where you have French.”
“…”
“Artie?”
“…”
Moan. “Oh, baby, please…”
“Alright, alright! No need to sound so obscene, you twit!” (Blush)
“Awesome! So, see you in a few?”
“…I suppose.”
“Double awesome! I’ll be waiting~”
Call ended.
“…”
With wide green eyes, he stares down his phone, his ears still ringing with that infernal (sweet, melodious, beautiful) voice that had just spoken to him. His heart begins to pound, pumping blood that paints his pale cheeks crimson and makes his body tense up, and his free hand clenches into a tight fist.
“…Fuck.”
Reply
It is also a universal truth that English gentlemen-like Arthur-do not falter when it comes to matters of the heart. They did not spend their moments of solitude longing for that certain, special person to always stand by their side, always greeting them with a smile that was so bright it could be compared to sunshine. They didn’t constantly glance at their phone every time school would let out; just in case that certain person would decide to call them and ask (hmph, more like beg) the gentlemen to hang out with them (“Hang out”… “Have sex”…They’ve become synonymous, really).
And English gentlemen certainly did not spend their nights dreaming of a girl with blue eyes, golden hair, soft lips that curled as she mouthed words of undying affection, and such a gorgeous body…
(Ahem.)
Nope, they most certainly do not.
So, needless to say, when Arthur opens the door to his French classroom, his heart does not skip a beat when he sees her sitting on the nearest desk, her head turned as she stares at the wall with thoughtful eyes and a small smile. He does not take notice of how the light from the sun shines from the window behind her, reflecting on her chin length, curly hair and making her glow more than usual.
And he most certainly does not blush brightly at the sight of how high she’d tied the hem of her school shirt into a knot, revealing her entire midriff that, along with her short pleated skirt, leaves little to the imagination…
Nope, he most certainly does not. That redness on his face is just, is just…
Anger! Yes, that’s it, Arthur thinks as he nods furiously to himself.
Once he steps in, he shuts the door, loudly so he’ll catch the American girl’s attention. Emily blinks out of whatever daydream she’d been having, and she turns her head to see Arthur approaching her with narrow eyes and furrowed bushy eyebrows. Oblivious as ever, she smiles widely at the boy and lifts her hand to wave.
“Hey, Artie!”
“God damn it, Jones,” he snaps, and then gestures at her. “How many times do I have to tell you to wear your uniform properly? Look at yourself, you like a bloody tart!”
Emily laughs and stands from her seat. “It’s great to see you too. And a ‘bloody tart’…?” She scratches her hand with a crooked smile. “That doesn’t sound like a good sweet at all…”
One of Arthur’s eyebrows twitch. “It’s not a candy, you git! It means-oh, forget it, you don’t understand!”
“No, not really,” when seeing his face redden with rage, Emily laughs. “Dude, chill. It’s just ‘cuz you’re always speaking your weird British language. Try speaking American, then we’ll talk.”
Arthur clenches both his fists at his sides and glares heatedly. “I still speak English, you git! Proper English, might I add!”
“Eh, whatever you say.” Emily examines her manicured nails nonchalantly.
His previous twitch returned with a vengeance as Arthur ground his teeth. Then he snorts and turns on his heel, lifting his head high.
“If this is how I’m going to be treated, then I might as well go back to work. Good day to you, Miss Jones-”
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“Don’t be like that, Artie,” a soft croon against his ear. “You know I’m only kidding.”
He swallows harshly, and his pulse quickens even more when he feels Emily push her ample chest against him. Then it practically stops when she brushes her lips against a spot under his ear, and starts to kiss down his neck at a tantalizingly slow pace.
“Please stay, Arthur, just a little while longer.”
Bollocks, that’s not fair. Emily knows how much he loves it when she says his name, his proper name. Arthur can’t help but blush.
“I promise I’ll be a good girl.”
…Oh, you little minx.
Arthur scowls and reaches up to remove her arms. “There’s nothing good about you.”
Emily blinks, her eyes briefly full of hurt until Arthur turns around and faces her with dilated green eyes. He stares at her for a few moments, and then starts to shake his head.
“No, nothing good,” he practically whispers as he places one hand on her hip, and then gently cups the back of her neck to bring their faces only centimeters apart. “Nothing good at all.”
Emily smiles wickedly up at Arthur (who’s only a few inches taller than her) and then grips his navy tie to bring him even closer, until their lips brush.
The American moans softly, then wraps her other arm around the Brit’s neck to deepen the kiss. As her eyes flutter close, Arthur’s eyelids lower to half-mast, allowing him to observe her for a few seconds. Then his eyes close and he threads his hand through Emily’s soft curls, returning the kiss, slowly, yet an undertone of passion.
He parts from her for a brief moment to turn them around and he gently backs her up against the classroom wall. Emily nibbles her bottom lip and lids her deep blue eyes sultrily, which coaxes Arthur to crash his lips onto hers with less restrained enthusiasm. Emily in turn gasps and willingly parts her lips to allow Arthur to explore her mouth hungrily, just as he reaches between them and runs a hand across her stomach. He groans at the feel of warm, soft skin, and Oh, fuck, he wants more.
With that same hand, Arthur reaches up and unbuttons her school blouse quickly and skillfully. Then with the other he unties the knot and runs his hands across the flesh that wasn’t unfamiliar in any way. When he sneaks inside her bra and gently fondles a soft mound, Emily parts from him and lets out a small whimper.
She reaches out and tugs Arthur’s beige sweater vest upward. Once it’s quickly removed, she sets to work on unbuttoning his shirt, which she accomplishes with as much skill as he had with hers. Arthur groans at her light touches and bends his head down to press hot, wet kisses down her throat, her collarbone, and he continues onto her chest.
“Ah!” Emily squeezes her eyes shut and throws her head, her cheeks flushing.
Arthur’s eyes flash, and as he gently coaxes one breast out in the cool air, he can’t help but smirk hotly around the sensitive flesh.
“Oh, Arthur!”
Slightly long, manicured fingers thread through his ashy blonde hair as a hand pushes against his head.
“Lower,” she moans breathily. “Oh, God, lower…”
Arthur lifts his mouth and scoffs mockingly. “Honestly, you brat. I thought you knew better.”
“…Please?”
“There’s a lass.”
Emily rolls her eyes, but then bites her lip as Arthur slowly kisses her stomach. She unconsciously spreads her legs wider, which the Brit quickly takes notice of, and he starts to nibble and suckle on her skin with something akin to desperation. With each breath he takes, he smells her, tastes her, and it’s driving Arthur insane.
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As he tenderly mouths at her inner thigh, Arthur keeps his gaze on Emily, watching as she tosses her head back with a dark blush, how she silently parts her lips, how she claws at the wall behind her for purchase. He can’t help but half-compare her to an angel and a demon. Because in his eyes, she is so stunning, irresistible-but this is a problem as well, because no matter how hard he tries, he can never seem to resist the hot temptation she invokes in him.
It’s painful sometimes, when he contemplates the possibility that these liaisons with Emily will one day end. After all, this little arrangement between them is only temporary. One day, Arthur knows, Emily will meet someone better, someone who will not hide how he feels, has a better temper, and is probably even a more fulfilling lover. And that will, no doubt, be the day that Emily will leave Arthur behind. When that day comes, he knows he’ll probably regret opening up his walls to her, as well as his longing to have something more with her.
But right now, as he looks on her glorious visage, Arthur feels he wouldn’t trade moments like these, where it’s just him and Emily Jones, for the world.
No, nothing good.
Emerald eyes smirk as a hot, hungry mouth bites the patch of skin that is closest to her most intimate area. Emily gasps and lets out a low moan, and those smirking eyes gleam.
Nothing good at all…
Sucker love is heaven sent.
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There was supposed to be smut in this, I swear there was! Somehow, though, it just...poof!
Lol, seriously, though, I'm really sorry if this isn't what you wanted OP. But I tried, really, I did.
I've never written regular!England before...I'm kinda used to writing fem!England. But I promised myself that I would do a story featuring male!Arthur, and this was the result. As you can guess, this was also my first time writing fem!America--and I'm pretty sure it shows. (Also, I know you preferred "Ally" for her name, but I have a bit of a soft spot for the name "Emily". Sorry!)
As for the title, yeah, I know--there are probably millions of stories here inspired by Placebo's Every You and Every Me. But once again, I tried.
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“Eh? What is?”
“It’s almost fifteen minutes until the meeting starts, and Arthur-san isn’t here yet.”
“…And this is of concern, because?”
“Well, usually Eyebrows would be sitting at his chair and waiting for the meeting to officially start by now…”
“Hm, now that I think about it, I didn’t see Emily-san at practice today.”
“…”
“Francis-san?…Why are you smiling like that?”
Scoff. “I’m pretty sure we don’t want to know, anyway.”
“…Oh, it’s nothing Kiku, Michelle. Nothing at all.”
Francis shifts his gaze to the closed door and his blue eyes narrow. Rosbif, you dog, you. Hon-hon-hon.
--
Emily F. Jones likes to think she knows everything about Arthur-but whenever she has this confidence, the British always manages to surprise her in some way.
“Oh! Oh, my God!”
Like now, for instance-when she’s lying on a bare teacher’s desk, her shirt open and her breasts bouncing freely, clinging to the sides of it with a tight grip, having her hips grasped tightly as another (slightly bony) pair grinds against them, their owner filling her over and over with thrusts that are slow, almost tender. Said owner lets out a dark chuckle and leans over to breathe against her ear.
“Careful, love,” Arthur whispers. “We don’t want to get caught, now do we?”
Emily bites her lower lip and keens as she leans her head back, giving a wordless permission for Arthur to press his hot, wet lips against her neck, which, of course, he does.
“Or perhaps you want to get to get caught.”
With a light gasp, her blue eyes snap open.
Arthur nips at the base of her neck, and then chuckles. “Such a naughty little slag, you are. Bet you wouldn’t mind anyone seeing you act in such a shameless state, would you?”
…Damn. Emily wraps her arms around his back, sliding her hands under his open shirt to dig her nails into his skin. Arthur makes no sound of approval at the gesture, but the fact that his he starts thrusting just a little faster, harder, and Oh, fuck! Instinctively, she arches her back and begins to pant raggedly.
“Right there, love?”
“Mm, yeah,” she moans against his neck, just as he continues to brush against that sweet spot inside her. “Oh, fucking God, yes…”
Arthur snorts against the crook of her neck, where it met the shoulder.
“As much as I love the Lord and all,” he growls, almost sarcastically, “I really don’t appreciate Him being on your mind when I’m fucking you.”
Emily giggles and loops an arm around his neck, leaning forward to lick and suckle on his earlobe.
“I’m sorry, baby,” she coos. “But you should know you’re the only thing on my mind right now.”
The British boy grunts and buries his face further, but then grinds his hips against hers, a sign that he really isn’t upset.
Emily’s smile widens as her fingers curl around the back of his neck and she starts to kiss and suckle that tender spot underneath his ear, the spot that she knows always makes Arthur shiver.
“Nnh!” She doesn’t have to look at him to know that he’s gritted his teeth, just to restrain his groans. The blush rising from his neck, as well as how he twitched inside her, was enough proof of Arthur’s straining control.
Emily giggles; her Artie really is adorable sometimes.
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She feels, more than hears the whimper vibrate in his throat, a sound that he no doubt will deny. Emily bites her bottom lip, grinning, and grinds her hips up onto his, a gesture that causes Arthur to grunt in surprise. She then clenches her muscles around him, to which Arthur groans and buries his face further into her neck.
“Bloody hell, git,” he growls, his accent thick (which makes Emily melt inside, but Artie doesn’t need to know that), “I won’t last if you keep that up.”
Emily puckers her lips into a pout, and she whines, “But Artie, I’m so close! Don’t you wanna make me come?”
Arthur stiffens and since she’s so close, Emily can feel the heat of the blush on his cheeks, which just makes her smile. She turns her head to press a kiss to one hot cheek.
“Come on, baby,” she says. “I bet you can make me come so hard I’ll dirty the desk. Wouldn’t you like that? Violating this desk, knowing how pissed your French teacher would get…”
Suddenly, much to Emily’s surprise, Arthur starts to snicker to himself. She pulls back, one perfectly shaped eyebrow raised, and quickly takes note of the manic glint in the British boy’s forest green eyes, how his thick eyebrows furrow, how his lips pull up into that (sexy) evil smirk that he’d use whenever he felt like being especially sadistic.
“God, yes.”
Arthur takes hold of her wrists and pins Emily down on the desk, which makes her heart jump. Before she could say anything, Arthur rolls his hips into hers, giving her a particularly hard thrust. The sensation is so great; Emily can’t help but let out a breathy moan. She shudders and arches her body up against his.
“I hate that motherfucker of a teacher,” Arthur growls near her ear, practically smacking his hips to hers. “Giving me a D, can you believe him? I had to go Bonnefoy for tutoring-and even that blasted frog does a better job at teaching than that fucker!”
As she tosses her head back against the desk, Emily braces her feet on its edge, and then uses them as leverage as she thrusts her hips back, trying to take him in deeper, harder, faster-Oh, fuck!
This probably goes without saying, but Emily loves it when Arthur gets angry. Not pissed as in, “I’m-going-to-hate-you-forever-no-matter-how-many-times-you-apologize” angry, but the regular way Arthur would get angry, usually when someone was disobeying the rules. When his pupils would dilate comically, his face would flush, his mouth open and yelling out profanity, his hot British accent getting thicker and showing its colors…
Now, imagine that same passion of Arthur’s put to a much better use-like fucking, for example.
“Ah!” Emily screams. “Arthur!”
Arthur replies by letting out a low dark chocolaty laugh and he laces his fingers with hers.
“I can only imagine the look on that fucker’s face,” he continues. “He’ll probably throw a fit in class tomorrow-and I’ll just sit back and smile secretly, knowing that my lovely wench and I had sullied his precious desk…”
Oh, yea-wait…what?
“Did…did you just call me a wench?”
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“D-did I go too far…?”
“Just a little,” despite her reply, Emily can’t help the wide grin that spreads across her face.
Almost immediately, Arthur lets go of her hands and buries his face against her neck, curling against her as if he wanted to get swallowed up by some interdimensional warp. Knowing him and his little obsession with Doctor Who (which he continues to deny), it’s probably not a bad guess at his thought process.
“I-I-I’m sorry!” he says self-consciously, his ears pinking adorably. “I was just trying to sound, to sound-”
“Sexy?”
“Yeah…”
Aw! Artie’s so fucking cute. With slightly pink cheeks, Emily giggles softly and runs her fingers through the poor boy’s ash blond hair, making sure to be as gentle and comforting as she can.
“Oh, Artie, don’t worry about it, really.” I really like how you always make an effort to keep my interest. “You’re actually getting better at this.”
“Stop making fun of me,” Arthur grumbles.
I’m not. Emily frowns, wishing (not for the first time) that she could say what’s in her head-all the words she hopes might comfort Arthur in some way, give him the confidence he needs. Because, as much as he denies it or hides behind whatever hardened mask he’d crafted for himself, Emily knows firsthand that Arthur has one hell of a low self-esteem. Sure, it hadn’t been that obvious to her when she’d first interacted with him during the course of their first two years of attending World Academy, but her eyes had been opened the summer before, when she and Arthur had first slept together.
Emily hums thoughtfully and stares up at the ceiling, her hand still threading through Arthur’s choppy locks. What can I do…what can I say…?
Something catches her baby blue eyes; a wooden chair behind the desk, one that had been carved of an ornate design, with a red cushion on the seat and the arms covered with a plush red leather covering. Emily blinks at the seat, and then a small smile forms on her face.
“Hey, Artie?”
“Yeah?”
“How long until your meeting starts?”
Arthur glances up to check his watch. “Ten minutes. Why?”
“I’ve got an idea.” Her grin grows as she nods her head. “Take a seat.”
Arthur looks up to stare at her with flushing cheeks and a confused expression. Then he sees the chair and his eyes glint with a recognition of some kind, one that causes his blush to increase. But Arthur doesn’t argue; he pulls out of her, with some reluctance, and walks to sit on the chair. With a shimmer of nervousness flashing in green, he watches as Emily stands and walks over to him. She straddles his lap, lifting herself up so that her sex is hovering over him, and she smiles widely at his crimson face.
“Takes you back, doesn’t it, Artie?”
Arthur blinks, and then scowls-though if one were to look a little closer, you could see the embarrassment and shame in his eyes.
“You promised you wouldn’t mention th-AH!” His eyes widen as Emily sits on him, taking him in once more. Then they clench shut, his mouth parting to let out soft groans of pleasure and his hands tightly clenching at the arms of the chair.
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Emily parts from Arthur, panting softly, and then begins to press soft kisses on his cheeks. As her hip movements quicken, gradually bringing them both to their precipice, she starts to kiss down his neck until she gets to the base, which she suckles with relish.
Closing her eyes at the pleasure building inside her, Emily listens to each choked cry Arthur lets out-almost as if they were music to her ears.
--
Arthur is still blushing as he tries to straighten his clothes, so it wouldn’t be so obvious that he’d recently been participating in a little “rumble-tumble in the hay”, as the saying goes.
…Or, at least, Emily thinks that’s how it goes.
Eh, it probably doesn’t matter, she shrugs as she buttons her shirt. When she’s done, she pulls it up and ties it into a high knot so her midriff is showing again. From the corner of her eye, Emily catches Arthur staring and turns to look at him, raising an eyebrow wryly. The boy’s blush increases and he snaps his head to look away, frowning and closing his eyes.
“Going to dress like a delinquent again, are we?” Arthur huffs.
Emily smiles. “I thought I was a ‘bloody tart’?”
“Tch, that too.”
“Well, in that case, yes, I am.”
Arthur stares at her for a few silent moments, and then he smirks. “One day I’ll get you to see it my way, and then you’ll wear the proper uniform.”
“Gee, where have I heard that before?” Emily cups her chin, looking mockingly contemplative. “Oh, right! Didn’t you say that you would one day get me to stop eating hamburgers?”
“Well, ye-”
“-And that you would one day get me to like your cooking? Which is still horrible, by the way.”
“Hey-”
“And then there was that one time you said that you would one day prove that your little fairy friends exist-when you were drunk, might I add?”
“All right, all right!” Arthur blushes with embarrassment. “I get the point.”
The American girl laughs softly and walks over to him. She takes his tie in her hands and tries to straighten it out, (blatantly ignoring the voice inside her head, telling her how much she looks like her mom when Dad’s leaving for work).
“One day, Artie, I’ll get you to see that you can’t just control me, like you do to the rest of the school,” Emily promises, looking at him with a bright smile. “One day, you’ll realize that there’s no way you can get rid of my pure heroic awesomeness!”
For a moment, Emily sees something flash in Arthur’s eyes-something that always seems to show up whenever Arthur is around her, in particular-something that is quickly hidden away as he hardens his eyes again. He doesn’t know that she saw it; and he doesn’t know that seeing it makes her heart ache in a way that it’s never done before.
“Whatever.” Arthur snorts. “I’m not going to give up.”
“And I won’t either,” Emily nods and winks playfully, releasing his tie. “Now, go to your meeting and do…school council president things-whatever it is you do!”
Then she leans forward to press her lips against his in a chaste kiss, which makes Arthur blush, of course. When Emily parts from him, she sees that emotion again in his beautiful green eyes, and, despite the smile she carries, her heart clenches. She heads to the door and walks out, calling and waving at him from over her shoulder.
“Later, Artie!”
Unknown to Emily, Arthur watches her leave, and the sadness in his eyes shows openly before he lets out a sigh and begins walking to the meeting…
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One day, Artie, I’ll get rid of it-that sadness, that loneliness, that pain you seem to carry.
She puts her hands in her pockets, her footsteps against the concrete of the sidewalk being the only sound echoing in her ears.
I’ll find out what I’m doing wrong, what I’m doing to hurt you (because you’re too much of a stubborn ass to tell me, but whatever, as a hero, I’ll take it, for now), and I’ll try to fix it.
And then, I’ll finally make you smile.
~Pucker up, our passions spent~
--
A/N: Well, here's the smut I promised. Sorta...
Okay, I'll admit this now--this ending was a little rushed. Because of that, the ending is probably a little confusing to you. For that, I'm sorry. But I was asked to do a sequel, and I thought--"Aw, hell, why not?" (I seem to think this a lot...)
I hope it was somewhat good enough for you to enjoy, though. ^^ I actually do have ideas for the future, but I might post them on my ff.net account. If anyone wants, I'll post the link to it later.
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Like the anon above said, it's so sad and hot at the same time. I liked seeing Emily's side of this, but baww... if they just knew, they're so close, yet so far away.
And if you do post more ideas, tell us <3 I'd love to read more of this AU.
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PLEEEEEEAAAAASE? ;A;
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