FrUk - Human Response
anonymous
August 2 2009, 08:05:27 UTC
I've been reading this fanfic, and I got this idea when I read the chapters on France and England. The story is about the human sides of the nations hating their nations sides. It's kind of like a split personality type of thing...
What I want is Francois and Arthur, during one of their interludes, discover that the person they're with is the human and not the nation, so they fall in love (or rather, confess they don't hate each other as much as the nations do).
And I don't want them to yell at the nations and giving up anything. I want things to kind of go back to normal, only that the two human's have a little more control over their body's
( ... )
An Antique Land (1/?)
anonymous
August 4 2009, 04:51:23 UTC
Author’s Note: This really makes no sense whatsoever if you haven’t read the links provided in the prompt. Basically, though - the nations suffers from MPD; human side vs Nation. Hope that helps? First smut posted here; please read and review?
An Antique Land
This is how it begins.
“Arthur?” France is looking at him, eyes as blue as the Mediterranean he’d bordered once, if only briefly.
“Yes?” Arthur glares at him from over the edge of the magazine he holds. England might like Shakespeare, love Byron and Milton and every one of a thousand authors whose names are scripted onto his bones, but Arthur takes a secret glee in the ephemeral. The flimsy magazines are seemingly synchronous with the modern age, and if they drive England into frothing fits, who will know?
“Arthur?”
“You’ve said that already.” The blonde mutters irritably, burying himself in the magazine.
“Non.” Wisps of blonde hair float in the still air as France shakes his head from side to side. “Are you Arthur?”And Arthur freezes, every muscle in his body going
( ... )
An Antique Land (2/?)
anonymous
August 4 2009, 04:52:26 UTC
England knees, rocking upward as a wet tongue slides down his cock; his hips thrust forward involuntarily as he bites back a moan. A husky chuckle echoes through the bedchamber; the island snarls as the soft heat draws back. Fingers curl around him, stroking lazily; he writhes, yanking desperately at the chains that have him spread-eagled on the lush mattress. The chuckle bursts into outright laughter; he snaps open his eyes to stare into smirking blue even as the other man crams their lips together. It is hot and wet and their tongues battle furiously for a moment before the other draws back with a yelp; England smirks, baring bloodstained teeth at the older man. A muttered curse rings through the air and hands fumble with the chains on his ankles; then it is England’s turn to shout as his hips are jerked upwards and he is entered in one brutal thrust…Francis bandages his wrists, his hands surprisingly gentle; Arthur winces, biting back a whimper as salve is smeared across the marks that decorate his limbs. The other blonde glances
( ... )
An Antique Land (3/?)
anonymous
August 4 2009, 04:53:22 UTC
“You little bitch.” England snarls, slamming the blonde into the mattress. “You little whore… You’re my slut, all mine, MINE, you wine-bastard!” The bed frame shakes beneath them as the pace increases, drawing a broken wail from the man trapped underneath his body. Alcohol is heavy on the island’s breath; he grunts, going to his knees as he pounds into tight heat with increasing violence. “Should have signed the damn paper - “ his grin is vicious as he seizes France’s hands, stretching them above his head as he grinds forward. “You were begging to be one with me, you wanted it so badly, you were screaming and crying… You like this don’t you? You love it…” France keens beneath him, yowling like a cat in heat as he arches backwards….
Francis holds back his hair as he vomits into the toilet, caressing the side of his face with gentle fingertips as he sobs. He stared up at the man through tear-clogged eyes, fumbling to speak, to apologize, to fall down on his knees and beg… Francis puts a finger to his lips, eyes gentle.
An Antique Land (4/?)
anonymous
August 4 2009, 04:55:14 UTC
Times passes, and things... Are much the same. With a few alterations. There are dinners and lunches in small cafés; there are movies and long walks alongside quiet rivers. They watch the sunset together, and talk of inconsequential things, listening instead to the sound of their voices and all that remains unsaid between them. Arthur smiles more often, feels his fingers reaching towards a phone on those long days when England rages and mourns over times long past. Francis calls him to wish him good day on his birthday - the blonde is on his doorstep by evening, a small package clutched in his hands. He returns the favor come July, hesitantly offering the other man a gift of his own; the smile splitting the Frenchman’s face is all the reward he needs
( ... )
An Antique Land (5/5)
anonymous
August 4 2009, 04:56:14 UTC
England rocks back and forth, riding the panting blonde beneath him; his brows are furrowed with concentration as he rises up and down. France moans, a flurry of elegant curses spilling form his lips - more, faster, harder - and England obliges him, grinding down and taking the other man deeper into his body. Orgasm is quick and painless, France’s hand curling around his erection - they fall together, dual moans twisting the air between them.
Afterwards, England bends down, touching the other Nation’s face with a hesitant finger; France lies still, staring up at him for a long moment. They are surprisingly silent. None of the usual taunts or insults are voiced; a strange sense of uncertain recognition flows between them, a confused befuddlement.
England straightens with a huff. France’s mouth slips into a leer as he licks his lips.
“Did you enjoy it as well, mon petite cher?”
“You damn frog!”It doesn’t change anything, of course. It can’t. Arthur is England as Francis is France; they are more then simply the sum of their parts.
( ... )
Re: An Antique Land (5/5)
anonymous
August 4 2009, 06:19:04 UTC
Oh, this was really, really lovely. I love fic dealing with the nature of the nations as beings, and this was just really well-done. I especially love the hints that there isn't a complete disconnect between the nation and the person, and that one can affect the other. Loved it!
Re: An Antique Land (5/5)
anonymous
August 4 2009, 08:01:12 UTC
Wow~ This... much love!
They both two parts, but also one and the same, and I love how it goes back and forth between the nation and human side. Especially that they aren't really separate entities but also experiencing what the other feels.
Anyway, you have to read these two first:
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5201915/4/The_Reflection_of_Human_Perception
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5201915/6/The_Reflection_of_Human_Perception
What I want is Francois and Arthur, during one of their interludes, discover that the person they're with is the human and not the nation, so they fall in love (or rather, confess they don't hate each other as much as the nations do).
And I don't want them to yell at the nations and giving up anything. I want things to kind of go back to normal, only that the two human's have a little more control over their body's ( ... )
Reply
An Antique Land
This is how it begins.
“Arthur?” France is looking at him, eyes as blue as the Mediterranean he’d bordered once, if only briefly.
“Yes?” Arthur glares at him from over the edge of the magazine he holds. England might like Shakespeare, love Byron and Milton and every one of a thousand authors whose names are scripted onto his bones, but Arthur takes a secret glee in the ephemeral. The flimsy magazines are seemingly synchronous with the modern age, and if they drive England into frothing fits, who will know?
“Arthur?”
“You’ve said that already.” The blonde mutters irritably, burying himself in the magazine.
“Non.” Wisps of blonde hair float in the still air as France shakes his head from side to side. “Are you Arthur?”And Arthur freezes, every muscle in his body going ( ... )
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Francis holds back his hair as he vomits into the toilet, caressing the side of his face with gentle fingertips as he sobs. He stared up at the man through tear-clogged eyes, fumbling to speak, to apologize, to fall down on his knees and beg… Francis puts a finger to his lips, eyes gentle.
Je ne vous ( ... )
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Afterwards, England bends down, touching the other Nation’s face with a hesitant finger; France lies still, staring up at him for a long moment. They are surprisingly silent. None of the usual taunts or insults are voiced; a strange sense of uncertain recognition flows between them, a confused befuddlement.
England straightens with a huff. France’s mouth slips into a leer as he licks his lips.
“Did you enjoy it as well, mon petite cher?”
“You damn frog!”It doesn’t change anything, of course. It can’t. Arthur is England as Francis is France; they are more then simply the sum of their parts. ( ... )
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The brilliance of this. is just whoa.
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They both two parts, but also one and the same, and I love how it goes back and forth between the nation and human side. Especially that they aren't really separate entities but also experiencing what the other feels.
This is both bitter-sweet and touching...
recaptcha: are pair. Yes, very much true...
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It’s everything.
Killed me. In a beautiful way.
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