Ficbits!
I've written a bunch of quickie-short fics for Saying Yes and the anon meme over the last day or two, so I figured I'd compile them all and post them here. I don't think there's anything here more than 400 words, and the anon meme stuff is all only about 100.
For Saying Yes! Poland/England and Erk/Priscilla (Fire Emblem 7)
For the anon meme! France/Poland, England/Lithuania, Canada/Romano, Hungary/Belarus, and Spain/America.
Some of it's porny. Some of it's just cute.
---
Poland/England.
"Oh my God, you are like, so totally my bitch!"
England winces an eye open. Poland's stocking chafes around his wrist where it's tying him to the headboard.
Poland twists the dildo inside of him and gives a giddy little giggle. "You are such a slut, I'm so serious! You're like, totally fucking cockthirsty! What is even up with that?"
"Poland," England rasps. He struggles up onto one elbow and peers around behind him.
"I mean it's so like--yeah?"
England wets his lips and tries to think of something to say.
Poland tilts his head; there's a shiny spill of blond hair out from behind his ear. He's sucking on a bit of mentholated peppermint; England can smell it from here. "Is everything, like, cool?"
"I…yes…but…the talking…" he peters out.
Poland gives him a wide-eyed blink. "Didn't you like, say that you were into dirty talk?"
"Y-yes," England falters. "But…"
Poland waits. There's a slurping sound as an air bubble opens up in his mint.
"Let's just…enjoy a companionable silence going forward, shall we?" England finishes weakly.
Poland smirks, bites down, and crunches through the rest of his candy. "Ohhh, you like, want it romantic and shit now! I can so do that. That is like, totally not a problem."
"I…I'm so glad." England sinks back down onto the pillow.
"I'm glad you said something. It's so great how we have this awesome kinda communication and shit, you know what I'm saying?" Poland twists and drags the toy out of England, and climbs up onto the edge of the bed and then over him.
"Yes," England groans. "I--I know far too well what you are saying."
--------
Erk/Priscilla.
Priscilla sits up again, her winged hairpiece all askew. Static makes her hair float up in a halo, a burnt-umber sunset.
"Ehm," Erk provides.
The sheet slides off his back and collapses in folds across her ankles as he climbs off to the side and starts feeling through the sheets.
"Is...everything all right?" Priscilla lays her fingertips on his shoulder.
"Yes," Erk manages, distracted, prod, prod, prod, "Yes, it's just that--give me one moment, please--"
She waits, eyes patient and downcast. She nibbles her lip. After an awkward interval: "Have you done this before?"
"What?" Erk whips back to face her, then paws his hair down out of his face. "I--well, I..."
Priscilla watches him. She's bare from head to foot, pale and unselfconscious. Erk, for his part, keeps trying to squirm his legs back under the sheet, as if that's going to help to hide himself.
"...I've read books," he offers weakly.
"I see," Priscilla says.
"And I thought--you were going red, and so I thought...maybe something was the matter..."
"No, nothing was the matter..." Priscilla's eyes skim across the sheets as though she's trying to see through them. She makes a soft sound in the back of her throat. "But, then what are you looking for?"
Erk flushes. "Um...the book."
"Ah."
There's a little silence.
"I don't see it," she offers.
"No," Erk agrees, and there's a muscle twitching now in his jaw, "I think it must have been knocked off during the...during the...when we were..."
"Erk," she interjects, gentle.
He stops himself and gives her a reluctant look.
"We don't need a book." She extends her hand towards him; pre-dawn light shines for a moment over the soft upper swells of her breasts, her translucent collarbone.
He takes her hand, still protesting, "But I don't want to do anything wrong--"
She draws him in, delicate in her strength, inexorable in it. His narrow body covers hers; at first he holds himself an inch or two above her, but her slim hands cup around his shoulder blades and tug, and he makes an unvocalized sound as her breasts press into his chest.
He gives her a nervous smile; she returns it, soft and reassuring. And then she slides her leg back up over his hip, and he chuffs out a breath, nods to himself, and makes his warm and clumsy welcomed way between her thighs again.
------------
Anon meme stuff! I got into this whole exchange with some anon where we were naming random pairings and then writing snippets of them for each other. Here's the stuff I wrote!
France/Poland.
France raises his eyebrows in polite expectation. "But I thought you liked riding horses, mon petit," he says, gesturing at the low-slung wooden wedge.
Poland grimaces. "Yeah, but like. Get bent."
---
England/Lithuania.
"Thank you for coming to check on me," Lithuania says. He throws a smile over his shoulder as he dusts a lampshade.
"Yes, I--" England starts.
"America is treating me very well," he goes on.
"Er...I'm glad to hear it--"
"I'm very happy here, really, you don't have to worry!"
England shoves the theater tickets back in his pocket and turns on his heel. "Sodding fine, then!"
Lithuania blinks after him.
Oh...but he'd wanted to ask England to stay for dinner...
---
Canada/Romano (I don't even fucking know what this is, don't ask)
Canada takes a shot of maple. Romano does the same with a swig of tomato juice.
"Ever wish you were an only child?" Canada asks glumly.
At the same moment, Romano asks, "Hey, you figure we can mix this shit?"
Canada looks at his bottle of syrup. Romano hefts a tomato. He squeezes its plump, red flesh with a speculative look.
"'S worth a shot?" Canada offers.
He dumps over the syrup into another glass. It oozes out. Romano squeezes the tomato over it, seeds dribbling down over his fingers, and they mix the stuff together with a plastic coffee stirrer.
"This is so kinky," Canada giggles.
Romano gives him a sideways grin.
---
Hungary/Belarus.
Hungary lays sprawled out across the carpet, panting, eyes shut, and jaded.
Belarus rolls out from between her thighs and delicately daubs at the corners of her mouth with the apron of her skirt.
"Maybe there are worse things than communism," Hungary sighs. She rolls onto her stomach, the dimples of her ass flashing.
Belarus says nothing. After a moment, she fetches up her hair ribbon from the floor and ties her hair away from her face again.
"Your turn?" Hungary suggests. They weren't what we each other wanted, but what Hungary wants lies on the other side of the Iron Curtain, and what Belarus wants is...a little unnerving, when Hungary lets herself think about it too much.
But in the Eastern Bloc, there wasn't much use in quibbling about company.
"Yes," Belarus states.
"You want the...where's the strap on..." Hungary lazes her arm up and feels around under the bed.
Belarus produces the oversized thing with unnerving alacrity. Hungary's eyebrows twitch. And then Belarus produces something else.
"And wear the scarf."
---
Spain/America.
Spain swings America down from the saddle; the boy squirms in his arms, fizzy with happiness.
"Thank you Spain!" he cries. "I want to go riding again! It's fast it's so fast--woah--!" he slips a few inches in Spain's arms and kicks out with his legs.
Spain laughs and swipes America up against him, nuzzles into his hair, kisses his flushed, plump cheeks. "We will, Amerito," he promises. "Ahh, how are you so cute...?"
---
Also, since a couple people have expressed concern about how I've been since TCE went on hiatus yesterday--you guys are so sweet, thank you! ♥ Times are hard right now, but I know I'll be all right. Thank you so much for your concern, I can't tell you how much it means to me. Honest. I think I...really needed to know that there were people out there who cared how I was doing. ♥♥♥
For Saying Yes! Poland/England and Erk/Priscilla (Fire Emblem 7)
For the anon meme! France/Poland, England/Lithuania, Canada/Romano, Hungary/Belarus, and Spain/America.
Some of it's porny. Some of it's just cute.
---
Poland/England.
"Oh my God, you are like, so totally my bitch!"
England winces an eye open. Poland's stocking chafes around his wrist where it's tying him to the headboard.
Poland twists the dildo inside of him and gives a giddy little giggle. "You are such a slut, I'm so serious! You're like, totally fucking cockthirsty! What is even up with that?"
"Poland," England rasps. He struggles up onto one elbow and peers around behind him.
"I mean it's so like--yeah?"
England wets his lips and tries to think of something to say.
Poland tilts his head; there's a shiny spill of blond hair out from behind his ear. He's sucking on a bit of mentholated peppermint; England can smell it from here. "Is everything, like, cool?"
"I…yes…but…the talking…" he peters out.
Poland gives him a wide-eyed blink. "Didn't you like, say that you were into dirty talk?"
"Y-yes," England falters. "But…"
Poland waits. There's a slurping sound as an air bubble opens up in his mint.
"Let's just…enjoy a companionable silence going forward, shall we?" England finishes weakly.
Poland smirks, bites down, and crunches through the rest of his candy. "Ohhh, you like, want it romantic and shit now! I can so do that. That is like, totally not a problem."
"I…I'm so glad." England sinks back down onto the pillow.
"I'm glad you said something. It's so great how we have this awesome kinda communication and shit, you know what I'm saying?" Poland twists and drags the toy out of England, and climbs up onto the edge of the bed and then over him.
"Yes," England groans. "I--I know far too well what you are saying."
--------
Erk/Priscilla.
Priscilla sits up again, her winged hairpiece all askew. Static makes her hair float up in a halo, a burnt-umber sunset.
"Ehm," Erk provides.
The sheet slides off his back and collapses in folds across her ankles as he climbs off to the side and starts feeling through the sheets.
"Is...everything all right?" Priscilla lays her fingertips on his shoulder.
"Yes," Erk manages, distracted, prod, prod, prod, "Yes, it's just that--give me one moment, please--"
She waits, eyes patient and downcast. She nibbles her lip. After an awkward interval: "Have you done this before?"
"What?" Erk whips back to face her, then paws his hair down out of his face. "I--well, I..."
Priscilla watches him. She's bare from head to foot, pale and unselfconscious. Erk, for his part, keeps trying to squirm his legs back under the sheet, as if that's going to help to hide himself.
"...I've read books," he offers weakly.
"I see," Priscilla says.
"And I thought--you were going red, and so I thought...maybe something was the matter..."
"No, nothing was the matter..." Priscilla's eyes skim across the sheets as though she's trying to see through them. She makes a soft sound in the back of her throat. "But, then what are you looking for?"
Erk flushes. "Um...the book."
"Ah."
There's a little silence.
"I don't see it," she offers.
"No," Erk agrees, and there's a muscle twitching now in his jaw, "I think it must have been knocked off during the...during the...when we were..."
"Erk," she interjects, gentle.
He stops himself and gives her a reluctant look.
"We don't need a book." She extends her hand towards him; pre-dawn light shines for a moment over the soft upper swells of her breasts, her translucent collarbone.
He takes her hand, still protesting, "But I don't want to do anything wrong--"
She draws him in, delicate in her strength, inexorable in it. His narrow body covers hers; at first he holds himself an inch or two above her, but her slim hands cup around his shoulder blades and tug, and he makes an unvocalized sound as her breasts press into his chest.
He gives her a nervous smile; she returns it, soft and reassuring. And then she slides her leg back up over his hip, and he chuffs out a breath, nods to himself, and makes his warm and clumsy welcomed way between her thighs again.
------------
Anon meme stuff! I got into this whole exchange with some anon where we were naming random pairings and then writing snippets of them for each other. Here's the stuff I wrote!
France/Poland.
France raises his eyebrows in polite expectation. "But I thought you liked riding horses, mon petit," he says, gesturing at the low-slung wooden wedge.
Poland grimaces. "Yeah, but like. Get bent."
---
England/Lithuania.
"Thank you for coming to check on me," Lithuania says. He throws a smile over his shoulder as he dusts a lampshade.
"Yes, I--" England starts.
"America is treating me very well," he goes on.
"Er...I'm glad to hear it--"
"I'm very happy here, really, you don't have to worry!"
England shoves the theater tickets back in his pocket and turns on his heel. "Sodding fine, then!"
Lithuania blinks after him.
Oh...but he'd wanted to ask England to stay for dinner...
---
Canada/Romano (I don't even fucking know what this is, don't ask)
Canada takes a shot of maple. Romano does the same with a swig of tomato juice.
"Ever wish you were an only child?" Canada asks glumly.
At the same moment, Romano asks, "Hey, you figure we can mix this shit?"
Canada looks at his bottle of syrup. Romano hefts a tomato. He squeezes its plump, red flesh with a speculative look.
"'S worth a shot?" Canada offers.
He dumps over the syrup into another glass. It oozes out. Romano squeezes the tomato over it, seeds dribbling down over his fingers, and they mix the stuff together with a plastic coffee stirrer.
"This is so kinky," Canada giggles.
Romano gives him a sideways grin.
---
Hungary/Belarus.
Hungary lays sprawled out across the carpet, panting, eyes shut, and jaded.
Belarus rolls out from between her thighs and delicately daubs at the corners of her mouth with the apron of her skirt.
"Maybe there are worse things than communism," Hungary sighs. She rolls onto her stomach, the dimples of her ass flashing.
Belarus says nothing. After a moment, she fetches up her hair ribbon from the floor and ties her hair away from her face again.
"Your turn?" Hungary suggests. They weren't what we each other wanted, but what Hungary wants lies on the other side of the Iron Curtain, and what Belarus wants is...a little unnerving, when Hungary lets herself think about it too much.
But in the Eastern Bloc, there wasn't much use in quibbling about company.
"Yes," Belarus states.
"You want the...where's the strap on..." Hungary lazes her arm up and feels around under the bed.
Belarus produces the oversized thing with unnerving alacrity. Hungary's eyebrows twitch. And then Belarus produces something else.
"And wear the scarf."
---
Spain/America.
Spain swings America down from the saddle; the boy squirms in his arms, fizzy with happiness.
"Thank you Spain!" he cries. "I want to go riding again! It's fast it's so fast--woah--!" he slips a few inches in Spain's arms and kicks out with his legs.
Spain laughs and swipes America up against him, nuzzles into his hair, kisses his flushed, plump cheeks. "We will, Amerito," he promises. "Ahh, how are you so cute...?"
---
Also, since a couple people have expressed concern about how I've been since TCE went on hiatus yesterday--you guys are so sweet, thank you! ♥ Times are hard right now, but I know I'll be all right. Thank you so much for your concern, I can't tell you how much it means to me. Honest. I think I...really needed to know that there were people out there who cared how I was doing. ♥♥♥