Dear person who offered to beta this in the other topic… I send it to you, thanks for doing this. I´m actually posting this just so I can warn you, because I can´t comment on that entry anymore and I´m neurotic like that. Oh, and thanks everyone who commented, I love you so very much! I was very anxious and kind of hyperventilating, so yeah. Thank you again.
“We need to talk. Come to the meeting room tonight at 08 p.m. We’ll be waiting. England”
The note was delivered by one of the hotel’s maids, and Alfred gave her the biggest tip the girl had ever received.
Not that he was happy. It just- well, it was nice to be generous. That wasn't supposed to imply any kind of joy or relief. But at least now he and Arthur could talk, discuss strategies, and maybe come up with something constructive to do. Or at least mope together. Anything.
He checked his clock watch. 19 pm. He could take a shower and go. Or he could go now, forget the shower. Arthur was kind of funny about punctuality, it was practically a British tradition or something, and usually Alfred wouldn't care, but today he was willing to go the extra mile to make the other nation happy.
He went as far as the door, then considered going back to change his clothes. After all this years, he still didn't like the suits, and if he was going to face Arthur he could at least dress comfortably, but then he was already at the elevator and going back for his bomber jacket would delay him and, well. Forget about it. He could stand the suit a few more hours. Punctuality. Yeah.
Matthew was in the hall. That was surprising. Especially because he wasn’t doing anything, just sitting there in one of the few couches the hotel had available, a newspaper forgotten on his lap. He seemed to be staring at the wall.
Alfred went to him. Arthur’s note said “we”, maybe Matthew was going too. Er. Maybe he was upset by some news about his economy. Alfred hoped not. He wasn’t sure he could take more of that.
“Matt? Are you going to the meeting?”
His brother was startled, and for one second Alfred could swear he was nearly panicking. But then he recovered and his eyes were sweet as always, a very unconvincing smile in his lips:
“Oh. Uh, no, I declined. Are you- are you going now?”
“Yup. Thought I should hurry, you know. Make it on time, at least once”
Matt was looking at the floor. He mumbled something so low that Alfred had to strain to catch the sentence:
“Maybe you should skip this one too...”
“What? No way!” Alfred laughed “That wouldn’t be very hero like, now would it? Plus, is just a talk. It can’t be worse than the one I just had”
Matt flinched:
“Right. At least be careful, ok?”
Alfred raised his eyebrows. It wasn’t as impressive as when Arthur did it, but it is still drive the point across.
“What a weird thing to say. I’ll be fine. Maybe we can have some dinner when I get back, if you feel up to it. My treat.”
There, a peace offering. Matthew smiled, and for a second there he looked on the verge of tears.
“Hey, bro, are you really-”
“I’m sorry, I have to go”.
And with that he got up and almost run for the elevator. Alfred watched him go, completely baffled.
Maybe Matt didn't want to dine with him. Well. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to, anyway. If Arthur wanted to have some drinks after this meeting, who knows when he would be back? One night wasn't time enough when Arthur started to drink.
Speaking of Arthur. Alfred wasn't sure he should leave Matt when the other was so obviously upset, but Arthur was waiting. He could deal with this later.
The conference center was near enough to go by walk, if he wanted to, and considering he was leaving so early he would probably make it on time. Still, better avoid the risk. He took a cab right by the hotel’s door.
Re: Taste of Revenge [3/?]
anonymous
June 10 2009, 19:05:30 UTC
Thank you for reading and reviewing, it means a lot to me! Yes, I´ll follow the comic, I´ll just add description and dialogues (and some politics, just to spice things up ^_^).
Re: Taste of Revenge [3/?]
anonymous
June 7 2009, 03:30:39 UTC
I know it's more like modern-day, but I can't help but imagine this happening during the Great Depression in the 30s...and that being the reason Alfred held on so tight to his isolationism and refused to enter the war right away.
Author!anon here
anonymous
June 10 2009, 19:14:47 UTC
O.O
I hadn't thought about it that way... it makes sense, doesn’t it? In the later chapters they’ll mention Afghanistan and Iraq, but or now it could be in the 30’s… that’s interesting!
Re: Taste of Revenge [3/?]
anonymous
June 9 2009, 02:19:11 UTC
Oh, author!anon! I admit when I first saw that you planned to write a fill based on the comic, I wasn't sure I wanted to read it because I think the comic is that brilliant--but I'm so glad I took a chance, because this is marvelous so far. Alfred's optimism, even in the worst of times (which happens to be a quality I adore, where others think it makes him a fool) is shining through so clearly and so heartbreaking. And of course Matthew--well, Matthew is love, isn't he?
Really, really looking forward to more. Thank you for deciding to do this! ♥
Author!anon here
anonymous
June 10 2009, 19:23:00 UTC
Yes, the comic *is* brilliant, and probably won’t live it up to it, but I hope it will at least be entertaining... thanks so much for giving it a chance. I’m glad you enjoyed it.
(I love Alfred’s optimism… I think it’s what gets him trough his problems, and. Well. He’ll need it)
Taste of Revenge [4/?]
anonymous
June 11 2009, 04:54:21 UTC
Erm. I send it to the person who offered to beta, but I didn’t hear from her (or him. Why do I always assume is a girl?) and, like I said, I’m a very neurotic person, so I decided to post anyway. Sorry about that. Ç_Ç
SO. You’ll notice I added some stuff- mostly dialogue - but I tried to stick with the comic. I know it was supposed to be Ivan’s house, but the G20 meeting seemed too good to miss, so I moved the whole thing to London. It didn’t change much.
~*~
The conference center was near enough to go by walk, if he wanted to, and considering he was leaving so early he would probably make it on time. Still, it was better to avoid any risk. He took a cab right by the hotel’s door.
And yes, he ended up being to early. His clock showed 19:30. The building looked dark, empty and, honestly, a little scary.
Then again, as far as Alfred knew, this kind of place wasn’t haunted. They had no reason to be. Still, there was something strange in this building, some heavy, sinister aura, and he took extra-care to be as silently as possible when he opened the door. He knew the locks and surveillance cameras wouldn't catch him - a side effect of being not quite human - but even so he walked slightly, almost holding his breath.
He closed the door. Now that it blocked all the noises from the street, he could hear a very low, almost inaudible whisper, echoing around the empty room.
Alfred shivered.
Then he forced a smile, straightening his back. A hero wouldn’t be intimidated by an empty room, even if its air was heavy with voices long gone, heavy with sounds of distant shouting, past accusations, alliances made and broken. That was history, and history didn't scare him. Ghosts did, and the two were completely different things.
But then, as he walked, the sound got a little louder, and it wasn’t a whisper anymore. He could discern voices, voices in different languages he could understand now, Russian, German, Japanese.
English.
He’s nothing but a child; we can’t expect him to know-
-this child is destroying in less than a decade what took us centuries to build-
-and what did he do that we never done? That I, that you never done?
-don’t you dare to defend him, you saw him there, he doesn’t care-
His smile vanished. This wasn’t ghostlike at all, there were real people here, making real accusations from the other side of a very real door. He could hear Francis talking, his voice heavy with anger:
“Fine, then let’s discuss what he’s doing now. I'm not talking about the invasion, I’m not talking about the wars and the paranoia and I’m not even talking about how disrespectful he’s being for the last eight years-
“He’s right.” - German now, strong and dry - “If this keeps going down any longer we’re all in serious trouble. England, I can’t believe you don’t see- “
“I do see. That idiot should be blamed for this mess, I can see that. What I’m trying to say-”
“Fuck that!” - German again. Gilbert, Alfred thought. He held the doorknob with a shaking hand. Gilbert was talking.
“Fuck that,” he said “He hasn’t done anything to help us out of this crisis”
“He doesn’t even care if other people are affected-”
“He will pay!”
Alfred opened the door.
The silence that came over the room was impressive even for him. He tried to gulp, and the sound was way too loud and his hands were shaking way too much and his heart was beating way to fast and- fuck, was that the reason Arthur had called him?
He glared at them, tried to pretend he hadn’t just died a little bit inside:
“W-what are you guys saying?”
Shit, his voice was shaking. He licked his lips, tried to remember he was a hero. These people should look up to him, he didn’t have to take this.
“What is this? Some “I hate America” fan club? Are you guys that fucking sad?” - good, his voice was steady “If you have something to say to me, say it to my face!'
Arthur looked at him.
He, just like the others, was sitting around a big table, and had looked down to the wood when Alfred started his rant. But now his green eyes were clear, maybe a little sad, but without any trace of guilt.
Taste of Revenge [5/?]
anonymous
June 11 2009, 04:59:28 UTC
“You-”
Romano also looked at him:
“What do you thing this afternoon’s meeting was about, you idiot?”
Alfred heard Feliciano whimpering, but the sound was lost in the silence. And what hurt the most was Arthur’s quiet voice, so Alfred turned to him:
“I thought we would talk! That’s what you said. I didn’t think you’d sit here and, and just try to place all the blame on me, saying those things when I’m not here to defend myself. I though- Arthur, I thought you were-”
-going to help me, he silently added, that we would talk and maybe go out later, maybe have a drink together-
“I know what you thought,” Arthur said in the same kind, sad voice “And it’s partially my fault, because I have... I haven’t been fair with you, Alfred. I’ve been supporting your stupid ideas, I’ve been helping you to make mistake after mistake, and I think I should be blamed for-”
“He’s an adult,” Francis said.
“Still” Arthur got up. But he didn’t come near, not yet. He just stood there by the table, looking straight into Alfred’s eyes “I should have corrected you when I had the chance. If I hadn’t spared you the punishment you deserved, maybe this wouldn’t have to happen now.”
“Correct me?” Alfred tried to laugh. It sounded like a bad cough. He stared at Arthur, feeling his own eyes burning. “Punish me? Who do you think you are? Actually, who the hell do you all think you are? Each of you is responsible for your own county! Why do I have to answer for the shit you do? I don’t remember forcing anyone to go my way!”
“You don't?” Francis smiled. It was ugly “Really, Alfred?”
“Not you, anyway, is that- is that what we’re talking about? That stupid invasion? I told you I was going to fix it, didn’t I? And you were there, you all were there when my new boss said, you saw it for yourselves...” - he was losing steam, and now there was a trace of tears in his voice “You said it yourselves it was the beginning of a new age, that you would give me another chance...”
He stopped. They weren’t impressed, they were actually barely listening. He could feel in the air, in the “nice show, are we done now?” feeling in the room. He was wasting his time:
“Look,” he said “I don’t have to deal with this. I have problems too, I have work to do, so- fuck you, all of you, I’m doing the best I can and-”
“Oh are you now?” Arthur said “I wish. If you only showed us that you’re doing your part, avoiding unnecessary expenses-”
“I am!”
“Then tell me, Alfred, how did you get here? Did you walk? How much did you spend?”
He was neared now, just one step, but his bright green eyes looked larger than life, full of accusation. This time Alfred couldn’t hold his gaze.
“I though- I don’t need to explain myself.”
“Right. You thought. You see, America, how is this part of the whole problem? You don’t even know what’s right and wrong anymore. You don’t know what to think, and you lost your ability to make the right decisions.”
Alfred gritted his teeth. He tried to sound confident:
“Ok, fine. I admit it. Coming by taxi was a mistake. It looked like a good idea but it wasn’t, and I admit it, all right?”
Arthur gave a small, tight smile:
“You see? You only learn when you’re punished. And that’s why we can’t stop now, America. That’s why I can’t make the same mistake again.”
“That’s just dumb. You’re not my father or my brother or my boss, and I don’t have to take this from you.”
He was ready leave and slam the door in their faces, but before he could even turn around someone grabbed him by his arms, locking him in place with a bear-like hug.
“Russia!” something broke inside Alfred. He had reached his limits, he wasn’t going to take this too “What are you doing? Let me go!”
Ivan didn’t. He squeezed a little tighter when Alfred tried to escape:
“That’s not how we act in meetings, America my friend” he said, amicably “You’re being a very bad boy”
Taste of Revenge [6/?]
anonymous
June 11 2009, 05:02:02 UTC
“Let me go now or I’ll- I’ll consider this an act of war against USA!”
“See?” Francis sighed. He was still sitting, just enjoying the show “It’s always the same story, isn’t it? Someone doesn’t act the way you want? Let’s invade. More expenses, and more of your- what was it? Non-interference, right, America?”
“That’s not true!” - screaming wasn’t going to solve this. Alfred tried to be calm, reasonable. Speak like an adult, they’ll listen, they’ll respect you - “And this, this is a breach of every international treaty and you know it, so let me go and let’s discuss this like-”
“Discuss” Russia giggled, his hand reaching Alfred’s neck “But you don’t like discussions, America. You like to talk. But you don’t like to listen, da? Just be listened to.”
He was closing his hand around Alfred’s throat, and then- then Arthur was at Alfred’s right holding his arm, and Francis wasn’t sitting anymore, he was holding his left arm and Ivan was squeezing his neck, covering Alfred's mouth with his free hand. Alfred tried to fight them but he couldn’t pull his arms, tried to kick them but he couldn’t reach, and then Ivan’s hand was also covering his nose.
He couldn’t breath. He tried to scream, to bite the gloved hand, he tried- please, he thought, please Arthur-
Ivan raised his hand. Alfred coughed:
“You- son of a-”
Ivan covered his mouth, and Alfred had the time to try a muffled scream before his breathing was cut off again. Ivan’s hand was so big, and he thought- torture technique, nothing I haven’t done before, I can take this. I can take it God please Arthur please please-
He was starting to see flashes of light when Ivan opened a small space between his fingers, but the relief lasted less than half a second. Alfred was suffocating again. He didn’t know what he was doing anymore, he though he was kicking and trashing but it felt like moving underwater, slow, uncoordinated, and the only thing he could do was look at Arthur, beg with his eyes, and he heard the other nation as if he was very, very far away:”
“Ivan, don’t kill him-”
“Don’t worry, I’m just making him lightheaded.”
Arthur and Francis had released his arms, but Alfred barely registered the fact. Ivan gave him one more second of air, and then blocked his breath again, and the only thing Alfred could do was hang in his arms, limp like a rag doll, screaming inside his own head. Ivan did the same thing again, and again, and again, and- Alfred didn’t know how many times, and every time he though he was going to pass out or die or go insane Ivan would stop, only to start all over again.
“I think that’s enough,” Arthur finally, finally said “You can lay him down.”
Thank God thank God thank you please thank you- Ivan let go of his neck, let go of his mouth and nose and Alfred had never felt so relieved in his life. He took a deep breath, mouth open to take as much air as possible, afraid it would start again, but now Ivan was holding his shoulders, laying him down carefully on the floor.
Arthur was arranging his legs, and Alfred had the vague though he should kick him, but he wouldn’t be able even if he wanted to. And the only thing he wanted to do was to breath. Even if he had to spend the rest of his life like this, laying on the floor with his head on Ivan’s knees, if he could only-
“Did you rest enough?” the Russian asked, his singsong voice sounding out of place “Ready for the next round?”
And in the next second he was suffocating again, Ivan’s huge hand covering his mouth and Alfred wanted to cry, he wanted to scream not again please please not again please-
Arthur frowned.
“Cut it out, he’ll move too much and end up hurting himself.
“He’s barely moving at all,” Ivan said, but he released his nose. He kept his hand over Alfred’s mouth, though.
“Right. So. Where are the scissors?” Arthur asked.
Scissors? Alfred saw the silver glint in Arthur’s hand, and then he felt the British’s hand touching his groin, and he found the strength to at least try to kick him, eyes wide open in sheer terror.
“Oh for God’s sake, America, don’t be such a baby” - Arthur waved, and Francis came to hold one of his legs, someone - Ludwig - holding the other “I won’t cut you!”
Taste of Revenge [7/?]
anonymous
June 11 2009, 05:03:54 UTC
“Not that he doesn’t deserve it”, Francis mumbled “Right, America?”
Ivan uncovered his mouth, but Alfred didn’t even try to answer. He couldn’t waste time, not when every second of air was precious. Francis smiled at him, disdain clear in his blue eyes, shaking his head.
Arthur’s hand was still between his legs, his fingers running over Alfred’s pants. He had a distant memory of choosing not to change into his denims because- why was that anyway? He could feel the shame and fear in the pit of his stomach, because Arthur was pinching and pulling the fabric and he could feel his touch and wanted to cross his legs but it was impossible, and this-
-this was it, wasn't it? This was the punishment they had planned for him. He heard the sound of the scissors and blushed, because they wouldn’t even bother to undress him. They’d just uncover the hole they planned to use.
“Hand me the tape”, Arthur said, and Alfred tried to glare at him. Why, he wanted to ask, why are you doing this to me? But then Ivan pushed him forward, almost making him sit, and his skin touched the floor, it was cold, and it was- weird. He wasn’t supposed to be feeling this, the cold tiles on his bare butt. His face was burning.
Ivan grabbed his wrists, pulling is arms to his back. He held him like that so Francis could wrap the tape around his wrists, then let him fall on his back again.
It was uncomfortable, lying over his bound hands, but Alfred didn’t have the time to think about it. Ludwig held his ankle and forced him to bend his leg. Ivan’s hand covered his mouth again.
“I’m so sorry,” Arthur said, quietly “But we can’t let you free. We don’t want you doing anything with your hands or your feet”
Alfred was whimpering. They tied up his legs like that, bended knees and the tape going around his thighs, and then Ivan raised his hand again.
“I think that’s enough”, Arthur said.
“Really? Because I can keep it up forever,” Ivan answered. He petted Alfred’s golden hair lightly; playfully “I love the sounds he makes.”
“He’ll make many more, don’t worry about it.”
“As for me”, Romano said “I want to hear him scream.”
Romano. Right, he was there. Alfred tried to think, tried to remember who else was on the room. He couldn't quite recall. His world now was Ivan’s hand, Arthur’s touch and voice, the cold disdain in Francis' eyes.
Arthur took a few seconds to admire his handwork. He took the scissor and cut a little more of Alfred’s pants. Then he smiled. He touched the exposed skin, circling Alfred’s anus with light, cold fingers.
“How cute,” he said.
“Fuck you...” Alfred’s voice was raspy. As soon as the words had left his mouth he froze, expecting Ivan’s smothering touch, but the Russian giggled and caressed his hair again:
“Almost right, America”.
He touched his lips, forcing him to close his mouth. This let him free to breathe through his nose, and Alfred couldn't help feeling grateful for the small mercy.
“Now, America, pay attention,” Arthur raised the scissor right before his eyes “Are you seeing this?”
It was so close Alfred had to cross his eyes. He tried to answer, but couldn't emit a sound. Arthur looked at Ivan, and gave a slight nod. Ivan kept his hand on his mouth, but gave him space enough to shake his head in a very emphatic affirmative.
“I’ll need your mouth”, Arthur said then “If you bite me, this is going in your cock. I mean inside it. Do you understand?”
ARTIST!ANON IS IMPRESSED!!
anonymous
June 11 2009, 05:27:22 UTC
oh author!anon, you wrote this alot more deeper than I did! I'm glad you asked if you could do this cause it's totally what my comic lacked. I should uh ... stop getting distracted and draw the next page haha
Author!anon here
anonymous
June 11 2009, 19:41:46 UTC
I´m so glad you enjoyed it, especially because there's no way in hell I could make it as hot as your art. I look at it while I write to get the dialogues and the inspiration, and I don´t think it´s possible to match all the emotion and intensity and hottness of everything. =)
So... please give us the next page! *kills the distraction*
First part: http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/6850.html?thread=11333058#t11333058
Dear person who offered to beta this in the other topic… I send it to you, thanks for doing this. I´m actually posting this just so I can warn you, because I can´t comment on that entry anymore and I´m neurotic like that. Oh, and thanks everyone who commented, I love you so very much! I was very anxious and kind of hyperventilating, so yeah. Thank you again.
“We need to talk. Come to the meeting room tonight at 08 p.m.
We’ll be waiting.
England”
The note was delivered by one of the hotel’s maids, and Alfred gave her the biggest tip the girl had ever received.
Not that he was happy. It just- well, it was nice to be generous. That wasn't supposed to imply any kind of joy or relief. But at least now he and Arthur could talk, discuss strategies, and maybe come up with something constructive to do. Or at least mope together. Anything.
He checked his clock watch. 19 pm. He could take a shower and go. Or he could go now, forget the shower. Arthur was kind of funny about punctuality, it was practically a British tradition or something, and usually Alfred wouldn't care, but today he was willing to go the extra mile to make the other nation happy.
He went as far as the door, then considered going back to change his clothes. After all this years, he still didn't like the suits, and if he was going to face Arthur he could at least dress comfortably, but then he was already at the elevator and going back for his bomber jacket would delay him and, well. Forget about it. He could stand the suit a few more hours. Punctuality. Yeah.
Matthew was in the hall. That was surprising. Especially because he wasn’t doing anything, just sitting there in one of the few couches the hotel had available, a newspaper forgotten on his lap. He seemed to be staring at the wall.
Alfred went to him. Arthur’s note said “we”, maybe Matthew was going too. Er. Maybe he was upset by some news about his economy. Alfred hoped not. He wasn’t sure he could take more of that.
“Matt? Are you going to the meeting?”
His brother was startled, and for one second Alfred could swear he was nearly panicking. But then he recovered and his eyes were sweet as always, a very unconvincing smile in his lips:
“Oh. Uh, no, I declined. Are you- are you going now?”
“Yup. Thought I should hurry, you know. Make it on time, at least once”
Matt was looking at the floor. He mumbled something so low that Alfred had to strain to catch the sentence:
“Maybe you should skip this one too...”
“What? No way!” Alfred laughed “That wouldn’t be very hero like, now would it? Plus, is just a talk. It can’t be worse than the one I just had”
Matt flinched:
“Right. At least be careful, ok?”
Alfred raised his eyebrows. It wasn’t as impressive as when Arthur did it, but it is still drive the point across.
“What a weird thing to say. I’ll be fine. Maybe we can have some dinner when I get back, if you feel up to it. My treat.”
There, a peace offering. Matthew smiled, and for a second there he looked on the verge of tears.
“Hey, bro, are you really-”
“I’m sorry, I have to go”.
And with that he got up and almost run for the elevator. Alfred watched him go, completely baffled.
Maybe Matt didn't want to dine with him. Well. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to, anyway. If Arthur wanted to have some drinks after this meeting, who knows when he would be back? One night wasn't time enough when Arthur started to drink.
Speaking of Arthur. Alfred wasn't sure he should leave Matt when the other was so obviously upset, but Arthur was waiting. He could deal with this later.
The conference center was near enough to go by walk, if he wanted to, and considering he was leaving so early he would probably make it on time. Still, better avoid the risk. He took a cab right by the hotel’s door.
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I know where this is going and yet it has me in anticipation. Are you going to follow the comic exactly? Can't wait for more.
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I hadn't thought about it that way... it makes sense, doesn’t it? In the later chapters they’ll mention Afghanistan and Iraq, but or now it could be in the 30’s… that’s interesting!
Thanks for reading it!
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Really, really looking forward to more. Thank you for deciding to do this! ♥
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(I love Alfred’s optimism… I think it’s what gets him trough his problems, and. Well. He’ll need it)
Thanks again for reading it!
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SO. You’ll notice I added some stuff- mostly dialogue - but I tried to stick with the comic. I know it was supposed to be Ivan’s house, but the G20 meeting seemed too good to miss, so I moved the whole thing to London. It didn’t change much.
~*~
The conference center was near enough to go by walk, if he wanted to, and considering he was leaving so early he would probably make it on time. Still, it was better to avoid any risk. He took a cab right by the hotel’s door.
And yes, he ended up being to early. His clock showed 19:30. The building looked dark, empty and, honestly, a little scary.
Then again, as far as Alfred knew, this kind of place wasn’t haunted. They had no reason to be. Still, there was something strange in this building, some heavy, sinister aura, and he took extra-care to be as silently as possible when he opened the door. He knew the locks and surveillance cameras wouldn't catch him - a side effect of being not quite human - but even so he walked slightly, almost holding his breath.
He closed the door. Now that it blocked all the noises from the street, he could hear a very low, almost inaudible whisper, echoing around the empty room.
Alfred shivered.
Then he forced a smile, straightening his back. A hero wouldn’t be intimidated by an empty room, even if its air was heavy with voices long gone, heavy with sounds of distant shouting, past accusations, alliances made and broken. That was history, and history didn't scare him. Ghosts did, and the two were completely different things.
But then, as he walked, the sound got a little louder, and it wasn’t a whisper anymore. He could discern voices, voices in different languages he could understand now, Russian, German, Japanese.
English.
He’s nothing but a child; we can’t expect him to know-
-this child is destroying in less than a decade what took us centuries to build-
-and what did he do that we never done? That I, that you never done?
-don’t you dare to defend him, you saw him there, he doesn’t care-
His smile vanished. This wasn’t ghostlike at all, there were real people here, making real accusations from the other side of a very real door. He could hear Francis talking, his voice heavy with anger:
“Fine, then let’s discuss what he’s doing now. I'm not talking about the invasion, I’m not talking about the wars and the paranoia and I’m not even talking about how disrespectful he’s being for the last eight years-
“He’s right.” - German now, strong and dry - “If this keeps going down any longer we’re all in serious trouble. England, I can’t believe you don’t see- “
“I do see. That idiot should be blamed for this mess, I can see that. What I’m trying to say-”
“Fuck that!” - German again. Gilbert, Alfred thought. He held the doorknob with a shaking hand. Gilbert was talking.
“Fuck that,” he said “He hasn’t done anything to help us out of this crisis”
“He doesn’t even care if other people are affected-”
“He will pay!”
Alfred opened the door.
The silence that came over the room was impressive even for him. He tried to gulp, and the sound was way too loud and his hands were shaking way too much and his heart was beating way to fast and- fuck, was that the reason Arthur had called him?
He glared at them, tried to pretend he hadn’t just died a little bit inside:
“W-what are you guys saying?”
Shit, his voice was shaking. He licked his lips, tried to remember he was a hero. These people should look up to him, he didn’t have to take this.
“What is this? Some “I hate America” fan club? Are you guys that fucking sad?” - good, his voice was steady “If you have something to say to me, say it to my face!'
Arthur looked at him.
He, just like the others, was sitting around a big table, and had looked down to the wood when Alfred started his rant. But now his green eyes were clear, maybe a little sad, but without any trace of guilt.
“Alfred,” he said kindly “We tried.”
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Romano also looked at him:
“What do you thing this afternoon’s meeting was about, you idiot?”
Alfred heard Feliciano whimpering, but the sound was lost in the silence. And what hurt the most was Arthur’s quiet voice, so Alfred turned to him:
“I thought we would talk! That’s what you said. I didn’t think you’d sit here and, and just try to place all the blame on me, saying those things when I’m not here to defend myself. I though- Arthur, I thought you were-”
-going to help me, he silently added, that we would talk and maybe go out later, maybe have a drink together-
“I know what you thought,” Arthur said in the same kind, sad voice “And it’s partially my fault, because I have... I haven’t been fair with you, Alfred. I’ve been supporting your stupid ideas, I’ve been helping you to make mistake after mistake, and I think I should be blamed for-”
“He’s an adult,” Francis said.
“Still” Arthur got up. But he didn’t come near, not yet. He just stood there by the table, looking straight into Alfred’s eyes “I should have corrected you when I had the chance. If I hadn’t spared you the punishment you deserved, maybe this wouldn’t have to happen now.”
“Correct me?” Alfred tried to laugh. It sounded like a bad cough. He stared at Arthur, feeling his own eyes burning. “Punish me? Who do you think you are? Actually, who the hell do you all think you are? Each of you is responsible for your own county! Why do I have to answer for the shit you do? I don’t remember forcing anyone to go my way!”
“You don't?” Francis smiled. It was ugly “Really, Alfred?”
“Not you, anyway, is that- is that what we’re talking about? That stupid invasion? I told you I was going to fix it, didn’t I? And you were there, you all were there when my new boss said, you saw it for yourselves...” - he was losing steam, and now there was a trace of tears in his voice “You said it yourselves it was the beginning of a new age, that you would give me another chance...”
He stopped. They weren’t impressed, they were actually barely listening. He could feel in the air, in the “nice show, are we done now?” feeling in the room. He was wasting his time:
“Look,” he said “I don’t have to deal with this. I have problems too, I have work to do, so- fuck you, all of you, I’m doing the best I can and-”
“Oh are you now?” Arthur said “I wish. If you only showed us that you’re doing your part, avoiding unnecessary expenses-”
“I am!”
“Then tell me, Alfred, how did you get here? Did you walk? How much did you spend?”
He was neared now, just one step, but his bright green eyes looked larger than life, full of accusation. This time Alfred couldn’t hold his gaze.
“I though- I don’t need to explain myself.”
“Right. You thought. You see, America, how is this part of the whole problem? You don’t even know what’s right and wrong anymore. You don’t know what to think, and you lost your ability to make the right decisions.”
Alfred gritted his teeth. He tried to sound confident:
“Ok, fine. I admit it. Coming by taxi was a mistake. It looked like a good idea but it wasn’t, and I admit it, all right?”
Arthur gave a small, tight smile:
“You see? You only learn when you’re punished. And that’s why we can’t stop now, America. That’s why I can’t make the same mistake again.”
“That’s just dumb. You’re not my father or my brother or my boss, and I don’t have to take this from you.”
He was ready leave and slam the door in their faces, but before he could even turn around someone grabbed him by his arms, locking him in place with a bear-like hug.
“Russia!” something broke inside Alfred. He had reached his limits, he wasn’t going to take this too “What are you doing? Let me go!”
Ivan didn’t. He squeezed a little tighter when Alfred tried to escape:
“That’s not how we act in meetings, America my friend” he said, amicably “You’re being a very bad boy”
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“See?” Francis sighed. He was still sitting, just enjoying the show “It’s always the same story, isn’t it? Someone doesn’t act the way you want? Let’s invade. More expenses, and more of your- what was it? Non-interference, right, America?”
“That’s not true!” - screaming wasn’t going to solve this. Alfred tried to be calm, reasonable. Speak like an adult, they’ll listen, they’ll respect you - “And this, this is a breach of every international treaty and you know it, so let me go and let’s discuss this like-”
“Discuss” Russia giggled, his hand reaching Alfred’s neck “But you don’t like discussions, America. You like to talk. But you don’t like to listen, da? Just be listened to.”
He was closing his hand around Alfred’s throat, and then- then Arthur was at Alfred’s right holding his arm, and Francis wasn’t sitting anymore, he was holding his left arm and Ivan was squeezing his neck, covering Alfred's mouth with his free hand. Alfred tried to fight them but he couldn’t pull his arms, tried to kick them but he couldn’t reach, and then Ivan’s hand was also covering his nose.
He couldn’t breath. He tried to scream, to bite the gloved hand, he tried- please, he thought, please Arthur-
Ivan raised his hand. Alfred coughed:
“You- son of a-”
Ivan covered his mouth, and Alfred had the time to try a muffled scream before his breathing was cut off again. Ivan’s hand was so big, and he thought- torture technique, nothing I haven’t done before, I can take this. I can take it God please Arthur please please-
He was starting to see flashes of light when Ivan opened a small space between his fingers, but the relief lasted less than half a second. Alfred was suffocating again. He didn’t know what he was doing anymore, he though he was kicking and trashing but it felt like moving underwater, slow, uncoordinated, and the only thing he could do was look at Arthur, beg with his eyes, and he heard the other nation as if he was very, very far away:”
“Ivan, don’t kill him-”
“Don’t worry, I’m just making him lightheaded.”
Arthur and Francis had released his arms, but Alfred barely registered the fact. Ivan gave him one more second of air, and then blocked his breath again, and the only thing Alfred could do was hang in his arms, limp like a rag doll, screaming inside his own head. Ivan did the same thing again, and again, and again, and- Alfred didn’t know how many times, and every time he though he was going to pass out or die or go insane Ivan would stop, only to start all over again.
“I think that’s enough,” Arthur finally, finally said “You can lay him down.”
Thank God thank God thank you please thank you- Ivan let go of his neck, let go of his mouth and nose and Alfred had never felt so relieved in his life. He took a deep breath, mouth open to take as much air as possible, afraid it would start again, but now Ivan was holding his shoulders, laying him down carefully on the floor.
Arthur was arranging his legs, and Alfred had the vague though he should kick him, but he wouldn’t be able even if he wanted to. And the only thing he wanted to do was to breath. Even if he had to spend the rest of his life like this, laying on the floor with his head on Ivan’s knees, if he could only-
“Did you rest enough?” the Russian asked, his singsong voice sounding out of place “Ready for the next round?”
And in the next second he was suffocating again, Ivan’s huge hand covering his mouth and Alfred wanted to cry, he wanted to scream not again please please not again please-
Arthur frowned.
“Cut it out, he’ll move too much and end up hurting himself.
“He’s barely moving at all,” Ivan said, but he released his nose. He kept his hand over Alfred’s mouth, though.
“Right. So. Where are the scissors?” Arthur asked.
Scissors? Alfred saw the silver glint in Arthur’s hand, and then he felt the British’s hand touching his groin, and he found the strength to at least try to kick him, eyes wide open in sheer terror.
“Oh for God’s sake, America, don’t be such a baby” - Arthur waved, and Francis came to hold one of his legs, someone - Ludwig - holding the other “I won’t cut you!”
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Ivan uncovered his mouth, but Alfred didn’t even try to answer. He couldn’t waste time, not when every second of air was precious. Francis smiled at him, disdain clear in his blue eyes, shaking his head.
Arthur’s hand was still between his legs, his fingers running over Alfred’s pants. He had a distant memory of choosing not to change into his denims because- why was that anyway? He could feel the shame and fear in the pit of his stomach, because Arthur was pinching and pulling the fabric and he could feel his touch and wanted to cross his legs but it was impossible, and this-
-this was it, wasn't it? This was the punishment they had planned for him. He heard the sound of the scissors and blushed, because they wouldn’t even bother to undress him. They’d just uncover the hole they planned to use.
“Hand me the tape”, Arthur said, and Alfred tried to glare at him. Why, he wanted to ask, why are you doing this to me? But then Ivan pushed him forward, almost making him sit, and his skin touched the floor, it was cold, and it was- weird. He wasn’t supposed to be feeling this, the cold tiles on his bare butt. His face was burning.
Ivan grabbed his wrists, pulling is arms to his back. He held him like that so Francis could wrap the tape around his wrists, then let him fall on his back again.
It was uncomfortable, lying over his bound hands, but Alfred didn’t have the time to think about it. Ludwig held his ankle and forced him to bend his leg. Ivan’s hand covered his mouth again.
“I’m so sorry,” Arthur said, quietly “But we can’t let you free. We don’t want you doing anything with your hands or your feet”
Alfred was whimpering. They tied up his legs like that, bended knees and the tape going around his thighs, and then Ivan raised his hand again.
“I think that’s enough”, Arthur said.
“Really? Because I can keep it up forever,” Ivan answered. He petted Alfred’s golden hair lightly; playfully “I love the sounds he makes.”
“He’ll make many more, don’t worry about it.”
“As for me”, Romano said “I want to hear him scream.”
Romano. Right, he was there. Alfred tried to think, tried to remember who else was on the room. He couldn't quite recall. His world now was Ivan’s hand, Arthur’s touch and voice, the cold disdain in Francis' eyes.
Arthur took a few seconds to admire his handwork. He took the scissor and cut a little more of Alfred’s pants. Then he smiled. He touched the exposed skin, circling Alfred’s anus with light, cold fingers.
“How cute,” he said.
“Fuck you...” Alfred’s voice was raspy. As soon as the words had left his mouth he froze, expecting Ivan’s smothering touch, but the Russian giggled and caressed his hair again:
“Almost right, America”.
He touched his lips, forcing him to close his mouth. This let him free to breathe through his nose, and Alfred couldn't help feeling grateful for the small mercy.
“Now, America, pay attention,” Arthur raised the scissor right before his eyes “Are you seeing this?”
It was so close Alfred had to cross his eyes. He tried to answer, but couldn't emit a sound. Arthur looked at Ivan, and gave a slight nod. Ivan kept his hand on his mouth, but gave him space enough to shake his head in a very emphatic affirmative.
“I’ll need your mouth”, Arthur said then “If you bite me, this is going in your cock. I mean inside it. Do you understand?”
Alfred nodded again. Ivan laughed:
“You scared him. I can feel his lips trembling.”
Arthur gave him the ghost of a smile:
“All right, he’s ready. Who goes first?”
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So... please give us the next page! *kills the distraction*
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Normally I hate Arthur on top!
But this...this is just...
I think I just orgasmed.
reCaptcha: kidnap mocks
Alfred you should just shut your mouth and take it already!
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