I am sorely tempted to begin cursing George Washington's great-grandfathers to oblivion, no matter what my beautiful fairies say about black magic always finding its way back to the user. Screw karma. That man is one of the most aggravating tossers I have ever had the displeasure to come across; if one does not count France of course.
Who, by the way, seems to be enjoying our little show, Alfred. I learnt he sent you one of his men to train your troops. I hope they got taught how to fight, though I am very much doubtful.
September 11 marked a great victory for us. It feels so good, after such a long time of failures upon failures, to taste blood not of my soldiers'.
November 17, however, was not. The Articles of Confederation have been submitted to the states for ratification. Alfred seems so far away now. He seems lost to me.
I feel tired, my greatest king. I miss our days together; although you would laugh at me for saying so, I am sure. Back then, everything was so much simpler.
I am too old for this, I fear.
[1778]
Bloody bastard of an excuse for a nation. France? Of all people to join the war! Alfred, how can you not realize he couldn't be arsed about your independence? I thought I taught you better than that.
Forming alliances with the wine freak? Against me. How could you leave me? Traitor. Nothing more than a traitor. France cares only about my territories to the West; he has had his eyes set on them for a while now; he is not doing this to help you, why can't you see.
Or do you just not care?
And Gilbert. I had honestly not seen this coming. Gilbert.
It's been three years, Alfred. Why won't you cease this nonsense and come back home now. Back to me?
[1779]
I'm so fucking tired of this.
Spain has joined the war as well. I will bloody kill them both, burn the remains until nothing is left; how dare they. How dare they take advantage of this war.
As if Spain bleeding supports independence of colonies! I have not laughed so hard in such a long time, but this one was just too hilarious to pass up, my king.
I hope each and every fucking one of them colonies of yours revolts, Spain. Davy Jone's locker is to be havin' a very special seat reserved for you, courtesy of Captain England.
Alfred. I cannot seem to stop wondering. Where did I go wrong? Do you despise me? Do I repulse you? Even if I take you home by force, will anything ever be the same between us again? After we have found ourselves on the opposite sides of a battlefield? After I have killed your men and you've been responsible for the loss of mine?
I miss your smile. That huge one you used to give me when I came to visit; you were always complaining about how I should stay a little bit more, remember. Would anything be different now?
aasdfgafkfjl!!! I LOVE Arthur's voice in his diary entries, and I can't wait to see the angsty confrontation between Arthur and Alfred!! Keep updating, authoranon, it's fabulous ;D
I don't know how much longer I can go on like this. Every day that passes, I feel less willingness to shoulder my musket. The losses have stopped hurting as much as they did before. I am growing numb, my king.
I-I cannot even see an end to this war anymore. It has gone too far. Was the darkness that covered the skies a sign? Or this might just be me being superstitious again. I have my own internal problems to deal with right now; I cannot even properly focus on this war anymore.
John, I hope your soul may rest in peace. I am sorry.
[1781]
'You used to be so big', he said; Alfred that is, my dearest king.
And I used to, didn't I? I used to be magnificent, brilliant. Used to stand tall and proud, not on my knees in front of enemies.
Now I have grown too old; I remember the Roman Empire, that bleeding idiot of a Roman who had jokingly decided to 'adopt' me. He used to pinch my cheeks, damnit! Wanker. He was the first one to call me by my name; Britain, Britannia. I remember Francis and his stupidly girly clothes, twirling in the sun and hugging me tightly, even through my protests.
I couldn't do it, you know. I couldn't shoot him. Am I a fool for it? And yet, even if it has earned me your scorn, my king, I would not go back to change my actions. I cannot bring harm on the boy I helped raise. I'm such an emotional old git. I should've shot him; for disobeying me, for starting this, for turning against me, with France and Spain no less! For all the pain and tears he caused me.
But then he looked up at me, and I only saw the boy that picked me over France and brought an end to my horrible loneliness.
You told me before you passed on that I was still as beautiful as the first time you saw me, remember? I was so small then. What would you have told me if you had seen me now? Streaked with mud and blood, head bowed and on my knees? Maybe I'm starting to behave too much like a human.
Alfred. You idiot. Why. I will never find the answer to that question on my own. Wasn't I good enough? Didn't you pick me over France first? Weren't you happy? But you used to love me so. I wonder if everything was a lie after all. If those smiles were fake, and pathetic older brother England was too busy fawning over you to notice.
eh, this anon is so sorry she made people feel so bad; Arthur will get his happy ending, anons! don't worry, author!anon is a completely romantic idiot, there's no way this will end in angst.
[1782]
Thankfully, I do not have to attend the signing of the preliminary peace articles. Give this old man some time to lick his wounds, wouldn't you? God, I am so pathetic. I will eventually have to see you again; the world is not as big as we often fancy to delude ourselves it is.
But I'd like some more time before that inevitable meeting.
I hope I'll be sober by then.
[1783]
Seeing you again is too painful, Alfred. Too soon, and the wounds are too raw; they feel as if they've been scrubbed open with salt. Seeing you again to sign what will forever relinquish my hold on you is even more painful.
In the end, you got your independence, didn't you?
Hold onto it for me, will you? Don't lose it, ever. Do me just this one favour, so that I know everything that happened had a purpose. That at least you will be content, happy, even if it is not with me at your side.
I noticed you know. You didn't look at me. Not even once.
I guess that would be asking too much, wouldn't it. Like I said, everything is still very fresh in our minds. I hope we'll get over it, someday.
I hope I will be able to see that smile again, someday. And that you will be looking at me by then. Really look, unlike before.
Our troops have left your New York City by now, Alfred.
From now on, you're on your own.
Just like you wanted.
I hope you do well.
Love,
Arthur Kirkland, Kingdom of Great Britain
ps; I wonder if I'll ever be able to show you this. Knowing me, I probably never will, and it will go unread, rotting away somewhere. Or maybe I will have changed by then. I only hope my feelings for you will be the same; though I rather doubt I am capable of such radical change.
Oh dear god, anon, how did you know how to hit every single one of the angst points for this plot so perfectly? sjkdlfkdj that was painfully perfect. Just... beautifully done. I can't wait for more of this; if anon were the easily-crying sort she'd be sobbing like an idiot right now--as it is she's just going to reread like mad until the next part goes up. ;_;
author!anon loveslovesloves this comment, and can only hope the rest of it is worthy of your praise as well, sasdfd. you people are giving me confidence ♥♥~
Alfred reread the last article, only becoming aware of the tears in his eyes when one of them hit the yellow-tinted page with a splash, and then another. And another. His fingers were trembling, along with the rest of him. Arthur. "You selfish bastard. Why didn't you say anything. So long. It's been so long." He wiped the tears away hastily as best as he could, but there didn't seem to be an end to them. Not after what he'd read just now. Not ever.
He had to find Arthur; had to-to just talk to him. This was too big to ignore, pretend he never knew when he did. Arthur loved him; he'd said so in this diary! Said he didn't think he would ever get over him, Alfred. Surely there was still hope-
"I'm sorry I took so long, Alfred, but you really should know better-" Shit, shit shit. There was no mistaking the way Arthur's eyes widened in recognition, nor the way seconds later they were glaring icily back at him. No, you've got it all wrong he wanted to say; you're not the only one, I love you too, you bastard, I've been feeling like this since forever-
"A-Arthur, this isn't-"
"So?" Arthur inquired angrily, moving to grab the diary out of Alfred's hands, "How was it?"
"...What?"
"I said: Aren't you going to start laughing now? Laugh at stupid, pathetic England for this?"
Alfred felt his eyes go wide as Arthur continued yelling at him; anger and bitterness and were they really going to get over this-
"Come on. No need to hold back! You have never done so before, so why would it be any bloody different now?! I said, come on, Alfred."
"Y-You; what the hell are you saying!"
"Couldn't respect anything, ever; that's you alright. Laughed over how pitiful I was and still am even now? Was it a fucking good laugh, at least? You like rubbing it in my face every year on the 4th of July anyway, so this has done nothing more but give you more ammunition, hasn't it?" Arthur was-he was crying. Oh god, was this how he felt? Alfred had really just meant what he said two years ago to be taken as a joke, to break England out of his own pity party. He had been joking, he hadn't meant to hurt Arthur like this.
"Say something!"
He'd never want to hurt Arthur like this; "How can you even think- how dare you, Arthur." Arthur seemed surprised by his outburst, and Alfred took the opportunity to grab him by the shoulders and pin him back against the bookcase, holding him there despite his protests and hissed curses.
"Do you think you were the only one that had been hurting like this?! I deserved to know about this, you idiot! Why did you never tell me what you felt-"
"To accomplish what exactly?! Have you mock me?!"
"I wouldn't do that! Arthur; do you really think I'd do that?" Please say no, tell me you still believe in me-
"Why did you leave me then? If you didn't want to hurt me, why? You read the damn thing. Tell me why."
They had both quieted down by now, but Alfred was reluctant to let Arthur go; they had to sort this out now, otherwise they'd never do so. They were both too damn stupid and stubborn and proud. "I needed to be independent, Arthur! It had nothing to do with how I felt about you. My people wanted it; I wanted it. I didn't want you to look at me and see a child; I wanted to grow stronger. I wanted to be free."
Arthur hung his head, dark blond bangs hiding his eyes, "I see." he muttered dejectedly.
"No, you don't!" Alfred hissed urgently, fingers grasping at the other's chin to force him to look up; Arthur reluctantly humoured him. "I wanted to grow strong enough for me, for my people, and for you, you stubborn old man. I was not a child anymore; but you just didn't see it. You weren't looking at me."
Throwing his words back at him seemed to strike a chord, and Alfred inwardly cheered, "I only ever wanted for you to acknowledge me, Arthur. See me as an equal-if I hadn't. Because, if I hadn't-how would I ever-tell you how much I-" he squeezed his eyes shut. This was difficult to get out. "Do you even still-or have I missed my chance?"
"Alfred, you-you're crying. D-Don't cry, you bloody wanker." Alfred felt fingers grazing his face and wiping the tears away and looked up, sniffing in a way that made Arthur laugh hoarsely. "You've always been such a messy crier, idiot. Do you still have a chance? You git, you are the only one that ever truly did."
"Reeeally?" Alfred perked up at that, grinning at the other cheekily, through red eyes and pink cheeks, ignoring how England rolled his eyes at him. "...Wait, why am I still an idiot?! Shouldn't it be honey, or baby, I could even settle for darling at this point-mff!"
Arthur was kissing him. This-
So Alfred just pressed back into it, lips and teeth and tongue, loving the way Arthur felt against him, the way he threw his arms around Alfred's neck and dragged him closer, the way he seemed to be smiling into the kiss and against Alfred's lips. They'd waited for this so long. What a fine pair of idiots they made.
"God, you say the stupidest things ever, America."
"Whaaaa, wait until you hear this, then!" he murmured in Arthur's ear, "I love you." Arthur kind of. Looked at him all wide-eyed for a moment, before he bit his lip (that move distracted Alfred quite a lot) and then proceeded to throw himself at Alfred with such force and so unexpectedly Alfred ended up sprawled on his back. Again.
"Arthur, oof, what the hell, that hurt you know! You're supposed to swoon, not tackle me! Geez, that's why you never get laid. My whole body aches."
Arthur lifted his face from where it was buried in Alfred's stomach and licked his lips in a suggestive enough manner that made Alfred's cock twitch in interest; fuck if that didn't shut him up and pay attention. "Let me make it up to you, then~ Oh, and-" Arthur made his way back up Alfred's body, although a hand strayed down to open his belt and pull down the zipper (one-handed, Alfred's mind noted) and find its way inside his boxers and oh. Alfred exhaled quite loudly.
"Alfred", was breathed against his lips, and Alfred couldn't help but whimper and clutch at the other's waist and hips, at the combination of Arthur's slow, confident, very very good -oh god, this was really happening, wasn't it- strokes and the look on his face. "I never quite got over it, you know; never could-stop being in love with you. I told you, didn't I? I would never be able change such a big part of me. I knew that."
"Arthur."
"You never even came close to losing your 'chance', idiot. I'll regret boosting your ego later, but let me tell you this."
Alfred grabbed the back of Arthur's thigh for leverage, thrusting his hips helplessly into Arthur's fist, but it was so maddeningly slow, and he was so hard, if he could just-
"I", Arthur used a harder stroke to punctuate his words- "Am. Completely and utterly-"
Alfred's whole body twitched at the change in pace, and he couldn't help moaning, wrapping his other arm around Arthur's neck to drag him down for a messy kiss that involved a lot of tongue.
"Yours, you idiot. Took you bloody long to figure it out. And not even on your own, for Christ's sake."
Alfred laughed out loud, and came so hard he couldn't see straight.
NOTES; Alright, yes, that's it; this author!anon is reluctant to continue, not only because she could never really write explicit sex scenes, but also because she is afraid of dragging this on. I also never really like 'Iloveyous' in fiction for some reason, but I gathered Arthur and Alfred are the type that need to say and hear it back. For all historical references in Arthur's diary entries, you can check out every subsequent year on Wiki. the notes would be as long as the fic, otherwise. and thank you for reading, all of you jhsghj ♥♥♥♥ 8D
Oh god, you have NO IDEA what a giant grin that ending just pasted all over my face. FFFFHAHAHHALSKDJSLKJDLSJ PERFECT. PERFECT ENDING EVER. I loved Arthur going devious and taking control and totally blowing Alfred's mind and yes. A beautiful wrap to a splendid fic, and oh god I'll just uh. Be over here rereading like crazy and continuing to smile until my face hurts. ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥
(And I'll leave a tiny bit of crit after all the gushing, since I loved the fic but could see some places to be improved! Al calling Arthur 'Iggy' kind of brought me up short, since 'Iggy' is derived from the Japanese word for England, or 'Igirisu', so anyone other than Japan or possibly Greece using it is strange.
Arthur also seemed to overuse Britishisms in his speech--lots of 'bloodys' and 'wankers'--enough that this silly American kind of noticed, so in the future maybe cut back on those a bit. Some sentences/dialogue here and there were also constructed awkwardly.
But none of that managed to detract from the sheer emotional win of the piece, so I definitely have to commend you on that. You managed to capture their personalities, emotions and interaction in such a way that--I'll admit I'm normally very picky about my reading--I just didn't care about the imperfections. Great job! Please keep writing. ♥)
eeeeh, this whole comment put a smile on my face! ♥♥♥ I'm glad you liked the ending, sadfd, I was just not sure it would do to end it like this after all the angst, but I wanted to end it on a happier note; plus, I cannot really see Arthur as anything other than a hot old experienced bastard, so of course he would take control, especially their first time. As for 'Iggy'; I wanted Alfred to bastardize one of Arthur's names to annoy him, and honestly, I thought canon was safer than attempting something on my own.
Ahaha, I can't help the Britishisms, sometimes; I tend to think that way, so I don't even notice; I'll try to keep track of them in the future. I also tend to think in Greek as well (greek!anon is greek) so maybe that's why some of the sentences sounded awkward in english. My translation skills aren't the best. I'm glad you think my characterizations are okay, though! It's the hardest part to get right; the other things can be improved, but if you can't get the characters right it's..difficult.
...Oh. Oh so sweet and romantic and lovely and perfect. You have them so well done and in character and still loving and adorable and...gah. YOU HAVE MY LOVE AUTHOR!ANON.
I am sorely tempted to begin cursing George Washington's great-grandfathers to oblivion, no matter what my beautiful fairies say about black magic always finding its way back to the user. Screw karma. That man is one of the most aggravating tossers I have ever had the displeasure to come across; if one does not count France of course.
Who, by the way, seems to be enjoying our little show, Alfred. I learnt he sent you one of his men to train your troops. I hope they got taught how to fight, though I am very much doubtful.
September 11 marked a great victory for us. It feels so good, after such a long time of failures upon failures, to taste blood not of my soldiers'.
November 17, however, was not. The Articles of Confederation have been submitted to the states for ratification. Alfred seems so far away now. He seems lost to me.
I feel tired, my greatest king. I miss our days together; although you would laugh at me for saying so, I am sure. Back then, everything was so much simpler.
I am too old for this, I fear.
[1778]
Bloody bastard of an excuse for a nation. France? Of all people to join the war! Alfred, how can you not realize he couldn't be arsed about your independence? I thought I taught you better than that.
Forming alliances with the wine freak? Against me. How could you leave me? Traitor. Nothing more than a traitor. France cares only about my territories to the West; he has had his eyes set on them for a while now; he is not doing this to help you, why can't you see.
Or do you just not care?
And Gilbert. I had honestly not seen this coming. Gilbert.
It's been three years, Alfred. Why won't you cease this nonsense and come back home now. Back to me?
[1779]
I'm so fucking tired of this.
Spain has joined the war as well. I will bloody kill them both, burn the remains until nothing is left; how dare they. How dare they take advantage of this war.
As if Spain bleeding supports independence of colonies! I have not laughed so hard in such a long time, but this one was just too hilarious to pass up, my king.
I hope each and every fucking one of them colonies of yours revolts, Spain. Davy Jone's locker is to be havin' a very special seat reserved for you, courtesy of Captain England.
Alfred. I cannot seem to stop wondering. Where did I go wrong? Do you despise me? Do I repulse you? Even if I take you home by force, will anything ever be the same between us again? After we have found ourselves on the opposite sides of a battlefield? After I have killed your men and you've been responsible for the loss of mine?
I miss your smile. That huge one you used to give me when I came to visit; you were always complaining about how I should stay a little bit more, remember. Would anything be different now?
If I had stayed a bit more?
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I don't know how much longer I can go on like this. Every day that passes, I feel less willingness to shoulder my musket. The losses have stopped hurting as much as they did before. I am growing numb, my king.
I-I cannot even see an end to this war anymore. It has gone too far. Was the darkness that covered the skies a sign? Or this might just be me being superstitious again. I have my own internal problems to deal with right now; I cannot even properly focus on this war anymore.
John, I hope your soul may rest in peace. I am sorry.
[1781]
'You used to be so big', he said; Alfred that is, my dearest king.
And I used to, didn't I? I used to be magnificent, brilliant. Used to stand tall and proud, not on my knees in front of enemies.
Now I have grown too old; I remember the Roman Empire, that bleeding idiot of a Roman who had jokingly decided to 'adopt' me. He used to pinch my cheeks, damnit! Wanker. He was the first one to call me by my name; Britain, Britannia. I remember Francis and his stupidly girly clothes, twirling in the sun and hugging me tightly, even through my protests.
I couldn't do it, you know. I couldn't shoot him. Am I a fool for it? And yet, even if it has earned me your scorn, my king, I would not go back to change my actions. I cannot bring harm on the boy I helped raise. I'm such an emotional old git. I should've shot him; for disobeying me, for starting this, for turning against me, with France and Spain no less! For all the pain and tears he caused me.
But then he looked up at me, and I only saw the boy that picked me over France and brought an end to my horrible loneliness.
You told me before you passed on that I was still as beautiful as the first time you saw me, remember? I was so small then. What would you have told me if you had seen me now? Streaked with mud and blood, head bowed and on my knees? Maybe I'm starting to behave too much like a human.
Alfred. You idiot. Why. I will never find the answer to that question on my own. Wasn't I good enough? Didn't you pick me over France first? Weren't you happy? But you used to love me so. I wonder if everything was a lie after all. If those smiles were fake, and pathetic older brother England was too busy fawning over you to notice.
Even so. Even so.
I still love you, you prat.
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*crying uncontrollably*
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[1782]
Thankfully, I do not have to attend the signing of the preliminary peace articles. Give this old man some time to lick his wounds, wouldn't you? God, I am so pathetic. I will eventually have to see you again; the world is not as big as we often fancy to delude ourselves it is.
But I'd like some more time before that inevitable meeting.
I hope I'll be sober by then.
[1783]
Seeing you again is too painful, Alfred. Too soon, and the wounds are too raw; they feel as if they've been scrubbed open with salt. Seeing you again to sign what will forever relinquish my hold on you is even more painful.
In the end, you got your independence, didn't you?
Hold onto it for me, will you? Don't lose it, ever. Do me just this one favour, so that I know everything that happened had a purpose. That at least you will be content, happy, even if it is not with me at your side.
I noticed you know. You didn't look at me. Not even once.
I guess that would be asking too much, wouldn't it. Like I said, everything is still very fresh in our minds. I hope we'll get over it, someday.
I hope I will be able to see that smile again, someday. And that you will be looking at me by then. Really look, unlike before.
Our troops have left your New York City by now, Alfred.
From now on, you're on your own.
Just like you wanted.
I hope you do well.
Love,
Arthur Kirkland,
Kingdom of Great Britain
ps; I wonder if I'll ever be able to show you this. Knowing me, I probably never will, and it will go unread, rotting away somewhere. Or maybe I will have changed by then. I only hope my feelings for you will be the same; though I rather doubt I am capable of such radical change.
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He had to find Arthur; had to-to just talk to him. This was too big to ignore, pretend he never knew when he did. Arthur loved him; he'd said so in this diary! Said he didn't think he would ever get over him, Alfred. Surely there was still hope-
"I'm sorry I took so long, Alfred, but you really should know better-" Shit, shit shit. There was no mistaking the way Arthur's eyes widened in recognition, nor the way seconds later they were glaring icily back at him. No, you've got it all wrong he wanted to say; you're not the only one, I love you too, you bastard, I've been feeling like this since forever-
"A-Arthur, this isn't-"
"So?" Arthur inquired angrily, moving to grab the diary out of Alfred's hands, "How was it?"
"...What?"
"I said: Aren't you going to start laughing now? Laugh at stupid, pathetic England for this?"
Alfred felt his eyes go wide as Arthur continued yelling at him; anger and bitterness and were they really going to get over this-
"Come on. No need to hold back! You have never done so before, so why would it be any bloody different now?! I said, come on, Alfred."
"Y-You; what the hell are you saying!"
"Couldn't respect anything, ever; that's you alright. Laughed over how pitiful I was and still am even now? Was it a fucking good laugh, at least? You like rubbing it in my face every year on the 4th of July anyway, so this has done nothing more but give you more ammunition, hasn't it?" Arthur was-he was crying. Oh god, was this how he felt? Alfred had really just meant what he said two years ago to be taken as a joke, to break England out of his own pity party. He had been joking, he hadn't meant to hurt Arthur like this.
"Say something!"
He'd never want to hurt Arthur like this; "How can you even think- how dare you, Arthur." Arthur seemed surprised by his outburst, and Alfred took the opportunity to grab him by the shoulders and pin him back against the bookcase, holding him there despite his protests and hissed curses.
"Do you think you were the only one that had been hurting like this?! I deserved to know about this, you idiot! Why did you never tell me what you felt-"
"To accomplish what exactly?! Have you mock me?!"
"I wouldn't do that! Arthur; do you really think I'd do that?" Please say no, tell me you still believe in me-
"Why did you leave me then? If you didn't want to hurt me, why? You read the damn thing. Tell me why."
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Arthur hung his head, dark blond bangs hiding his eyes, "I see." he muttered dejectedly.
"No, you don't!" Alfred hissed urgently, fingers grasping at the other's chin to force him to look up; Arthur reluctantly humoured him. "I wanted to grow strong enough for me, for my people, and for you, you stubborn old man. I was not a child anymore; but you just didn't see it. You weren't looking at me."
Throwing his words back at him seemed to strike a chord, and Alfred inwardly cheered, "I only ever wanted for you to acknowledge me, Arthur. See me as an equal-if I hadn't. Because, if I hadn't-how would I ever-tell you how much I-" he squeezed his eyes shut. This was difficult to get out. "Do you even still-or have I missed my chance?"
"Alfred, you-you're crying. D-Don't cry, you bloody wanker." Alfred felt fingers grazing his face and wiping the tears away and looked up, sniffing in a way that made Arthur laugh hoarsely. "You've always been such a messy crier, idiot. Do you still have a chance? You git, you are the only one that ever truly did."
"Reeeally?" Alfred perked up at that, grinning at the other cheekily, through red eyes and pink cheeks, ignoring how England rolled his eyes at him. "...Wait, why am I still an idiot?! Shouldn't it be honey, or baby, I could even settle for darling at this point-mff!"
Arthur was kissing him. This-
So Alfred just pressed back into it, lips and teeth and tongue, loving the way Arthur felt against him, the way he threw his arms around Alfred's neck and dragged him closer, the way he seemed to be smiling into the kiss and against Alfred's lips. They'd waited for this so long. What a fine pair of idiots they made.
"God, you say the stupidest things ever, America."
"Whaaaa, wait until you hear this, then!" he murmured in Arthur's ear, "I love you." Arthur kind of. Looked at him all wide-eyed for a moment, before he bit his lip (that move distracted Alfred quite a lot) and then proceeded to throw himself at Alfred with such force and so unexpectedly Alfred ended up sprawled on his back. Again.
"Arthur, oof, what the hell, that hurt you know! You're supposed to swoon, not tackle me! Geez, that's why you never get laid. My whole body aches."
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"Alfred", was breathed against his lips, and Alfred couldn't help but whimper and clutch at the other's waist and hips, at the combination of Arthur's slow, confident, very very good -oh god, this was really happening, wasn't it- strokes and the look on his face. "I never quite got over it, you know; never could-stop being in love with you. I told you, didn't I? I would never be able change such a big part of me. I knew that."
"Arthur."
"You never even came close to losing your 'chance', idiot. I'll regret boosting your ego later, but let me tell you this."
Alfred grabbed the back of Arthur's thigh for leverage, thrusting his hips helplessly into Arthur's fist, but it was so maddeningly slow, and he was so hard, if he could just-
"I", Arthur used a harder stroke to punctuate his words- "Am. Completely and utterly-"
Alfred's whole body twitched at the change in pace, and he couldn't help moaning, wrapping his other arm around Arthur's neck to drag him down for a messy kiss that involved a lot of tongue.
"Yours, you idiot. Took you bloody long to figure it out. And not even on your own, for Christ's sake."
Alfred laughed out loud, and came so hard he couldn't see straight.
NOTES; Alright, yes, that's it; this author!anon is reluctant to continue, not only because she could never really write explicit sex scenes, but also because she is afraid of dragging this on. I also never really like 'Iloveyous' in fiction for some reason, but I gathered Arthur and Alfred are the type that need to say and hear it back. For all historical references in Arthur's diary entries, you can check out every subsequent year on Wiki. the notes would be as long as the fic, otherwise. and thank you for reading, all of you jhsghj ♥♥♥♥ 8D
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(And I'll leave a tiny bit of crit after all the gushing, since I loved the fic but could see some places to be improved! Al calling Arthur 'Iggy' kind of brought me up short, since 'Iggy' is derived from the Japanese word for England, or 'Igirisu', so anyone other than Japan or possibly Greece using it is strange.
Arthur also seemed to overuse Britishisms in his speech--lots of 'bloodys' and 'wankers'--enough that this silly American kind of noticed, so in the future maybe cut back on those a bit. Some sentences/dialogue here and there were also constructed awkwardly.
But none of that managed to detract from the sheer emotional win of the piece, so I definitely have to commend you on that. You managed to capture their personalities, emotions and interaction in such a way that--I'll admit I'm normally very picky about my reading--I just didn't care about the imperfections. Great job! Please keep writing. ♥)
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Ahaha, I can't help the Britishisms, sometimes; I tend to think that way, so I don't even notice; I'll try to keep track of them in the future. I also tend to think in Greek as well (greek!anon is greek) so maybe that's why some of the sentences sounded awkward in english. My translation skills aren't the best. I'm glad you think my characterizations are okay, though! It's the hardest part to get right; the other things can be improved, but if you can't get the characters right it's..difficult.
aaaalso. you sound familiar, I think~
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