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Literature Text
"Matthew."
His voice cracked on that one name, eyes burning bright while his heart beat an unstable rhythm against his ribcage. "Matthew…!"
He keened those syllables over and over again until his voice ran raw with pain and overuse.
How could one name mean so much?
Moonlight cascaded across the wooden floor, lonely and cold and beautiful as he paced back and forth like a starved wolf. How much longer? How much longer until he'd return?
He worked himself into a lather at all the possibilities that could've befallen his love, and in hopes to retain his sanity, he tried to come up with reasonable solutions. It had been over a month since he had seen him last, but he kept in touch with many phone calls and texts. He said he would be home tonight, but evening had long passed and now the dark leaned towards the first hour of the day. He had said he would come back. He said he would come back.
In his haste, the empty beer he had been holding earlier fell from his grasp and broke on the floor, splintering and ricocheting outwards. He didn't stop his frantic steps. Not even when dark crimson pooled beneath his tracks, bloody footprints marking his path.
He knew he was sick, the fever making him delirious and crazed at the many ideas flashing across his mind. Not once, not once, in his time as the almighty Prussia, had he ever felt like this. Not even as Gilbert, he had never had experienced such an animalistic need like tonight.
"Matthew…"
He could feel it seeping through his bloodstream, want and lust and anger and fear and love bound into one emotion like a sweetened poison. The drums accompanying the melody from the CD in the background further accelerated his heartbeat, violins and vocal choirs rising and falling with his quick breaths. The autumn yellow moon hung from the sky like a ghastly smile, knowing and silent and distant.
A quick, fleeting thought caused him to quirk his lips upwards in a half-smile before it faded. Prussia, once part of the Teutonic Knights, religious and brave…Gilbert, a man pure of heart and one who said his prayers, could still become something so feral by distance and the dark. He contemplated praying to the saints for help, just to discard the notion. They couldn't help him now. He was too far gone, too entangled in the grasp of the sickness to be saved.
His heart kicking like a rabbit, he considered his options. If worst came to worst, he would go hunting after him. He would track him like a child possessed until he was able to breathe in that perfect scent and mark the milky-pale skin around his collarbone with bite marks, richly-colored like aged wine and blue like ink.
Or, he could wait.
He briefly stopped his red-tainted strides to stand, looking out through the glass doors that stood to protect from the woods beyond the back yard. His erratic breathing fogged his sight, cloaking the night in grey while the moon still stood high in the nocturnal sky. He had been waiting for days, hours, minutes, seconds…he had been waiting for so, so long, the passage of time fueling his fever.
The sickness was like a beast, stalking his moves and singing to his mind, filling his perspective with twists and turns that had neither end nor beginning. The only cure that it would take was him, his company and love, and both had been absent for days.
He knew that he was horrible for his love. He was a person that would take and take and take with no regard, no heed, and Canada would let him. It was true that he felt filthy for it, but it wasn't something he could control, similarly to how fear would make your blood quicken regardless. He knew the effect he had on Matthew, how he could steal away the tenderness and replace it with something almost as ruthless as the beast unbound in his head. He knew, and yet he couldn't stay away. That much he knew to be true. It was too late to save them both, and he didn't care. As long as they were together, nothing mattered. Canada had said as much.
"Matthew…"
"Yes?"
Spinning around, his eyes dilated and then widened when he saw the tall blond leaning against the doorframe into their house, watching him before surveying the mess on the floor.
"Prussia, what happened? I don't-"
"Where were you." It was not a question, but more of a growl through clenched teeth.
Picking his way around shards of glass and prints of blood, Canada came to stand in front of the fallen nation, blue eyes searching his face before realizing his current state of being.
"I said that I'll return. I did. Prussia, I'd never leave you. You must realize that by now-!"
"And you must realize that I've been driven to insanity by your absence. You have no idea how I've felt with you gone, all of the things that could've happened to you-"
Closing the distance between them, Matthew pressed his lips against Gilbert's, setting the beast inside him howling. Unable to stop even if he wanted, he pushed Canada against the wall, running fingers under his shirt and locking them in tangled gold hair as their kiss deepened, setting fire to the need for each other in a blaze of want and lust.
Gasping as they broke apart, he felt fists anchored in his own shirt, the fabric wrinkled from where it was held. The man in his arms buried his head in the same material he currently held, a gesture that Prussia realized he hadn't done in a very, very long time.
"I'm so sorry for leaving you, it's just that I had so much paperwork and my boss was being a real-"
"You can make it up to me. Soon than later, I'm thinking. I'm forgiving, but not patient." He trailed kisses down Canada's neck, raising goose bumps.
"Do you mean now, then?" the tone was teasing, but became breathless when he found a particularly sensitive spot, dragging his teeth across his love's chest.
"Yes, now."
Matthew looked at him, really looked at him, and said in a quiet voice "I love you."
Canada leaned over and kissed him. The kind of kiss that made him forget who he was or what was important besides the moment and the stunning blond above him. When he finally found his voice, it shook with emotion.
" I love you too."
His voice cracked on that one name, eyes burning bright while his heart beat an unstable rhythm against his ribcage. "Matthew…!"
He keened those syllables over and over again until his voice ran raw with pain and overuse.
How could one name mean so much?
Moonlight cascaded across the wooden floor, lonely and cold and beautiful as he paced back and forth like a starved wolf. How much longer? How much longer until he'd return?
He worked himself into a lather at all the possibilities that could've befallen his love, and in hopes to retain his sanity, he tried to come up with reasonable solutions. It had been over a month since he had seen him last, but he kept in touch with many phone calls and texts. He said he would be home tonight, but evening had long passed and now the dark leaned towards the first hour of the day. He had said he would come back. He said he would come back.
In his haste, the empty beer he had been holding earlier fell from his grasp and broke on the floor, splintering and ricocheting outwards. He didn't stop his frantic steps. Not even when dark crimson pooled beneath his tracks, bloody footprints marking his path.
He knew he was sick, the fever making him delirious and crazed at the many ideas flashing across his mind. Not once, not once, in his time as the almighty Prussia, had he ever felt like this. Not even as Gilbert, he had never had experienced such an animalistic need like tonight.
"Matthew…"
He could feel it seeping through his bloodstream, want and lust and anger and fear and love bound into one emotion like a sweetened poison. The drums accompanying the melody from the CD in the background further accelerated his heartbeat, violins and vocal choirs rising and falling with his quick breaths. The autumn yellow moon hung from the sky like a ghastly smile, knowing and silent and distant.
A quick, fleeting thought caused him to quirk his lips upwards in a half-smile before it faded. Prussia, once part of the Teutonic Knights, religious and brave…Gilbert, a man pure of heart and one who said his prayers, could still become something so feral by distance and the dark. He contemplated praying to the saints for help, just to discard the notion. They couldn't help him now. He was too far gone, too entangled in the grasp of the sickness to be saved.
His heart kicking like a rabbit, he considered his options. If worst came to worst, he would go hunting after him. He would track him like a child possessed until he was able to breathe in that perfect scent and mark the milky-pale skin around his collarbone with bite marks, richly-colored like aged wine and blue like ink.
Or, he could wait.
He briefly stopped his red-tainted strides to stand, looking out through the glass doors that stood to protect from the woods beyond the back yard. His erratic breathing fogged his sight, cloaking the night in grey while the moon still stood high in the nocturnal sky. He had been waiting for days, hours, minutes, seconds…he had been waiting for so, so long, the passage of time fueling his fever.
The sickness was like a beast, stalking his moves and singing to his mind, filling his perspective with twists and turns that had neither end nor beginning. The only cure that it would take was him, his company and love, and both had been absent for days.
He knew that he was horrible for his love. He was a person that would take and take and take with no regard, no heed, and Canada would let him. It was true that he felt filthy for it, but it wasn't something he could control, similarly to how fear would make your blood quicken regardless. He knew the effect he had on Matthew, how he could steal away the tenderness and replace it with something almost as ruthless as the beast unbound in his head. He knew, and yet he couldn't stay away. That much he knew to be true. It was too late to save them both, and he didn't care. As long as they were together, nothing mattered. Canada had said as much.
"Matthew…"
"Yes?"
Spinning around, his eyes dilated and then widened when he saw the tall blond leaning against the doorframe into their house, watching him before surveying the mess on the floor.
"Prussia, what happened? I don't-"
"Where were you." It was not a question, but more of a growl through clenched teeth.
Picking his way around shards of glass and prints of blood, Canada came to stand in front of the fallen nation, blue eyes searching his face before realizing his current state of being.
"I said that I'll return. I did. Prussia, I'd never leave you. You must realize that by now-!"
"And you must realize that I've been driven to insanity by your absence. You have no idea how I've felt with you gone, all of the things that could've happened to you-"
Closing the distance between them, Matthew pressed his lips against Gilbert's, setting the beast inside him howling. Unable to stop even if he wanted, he pushed Canada against the wall, running fingers under his shirt and locking them in tangled gold hair as their kiss deepened, setting fire to the need for each other in a blaze of want and lust.
Gasping as they broke apart, he felt fists anchored in his own shirt, the fabric wrinkled from where it was held. The man in his arms buried his head in the same material he currently held, a gesture that Prussia realized he hadn't done in a very, very long time.
"I'm so sorry for leaving you, it's just that I had so much paperwork and my boss was being a real-"
"You can make it up to me. Soon than later, I'm thinking. I'm forgiving, but not patient." He trailed kisses down Canada's neck, raising goose bumps.
"Do you mean now, then?" the tone was teasing, but became breathless when he found a particularly sensitive spot, dragging his teeth across his love's chest.
"Yes, now."
Matthew looked at him, really looked at him, and said in a quiet voice "I love you."
Canada leaned over and kissed him. The kind of kiss that made him forget who he was or what was important besides the moment and the stunning blond above him. When he finally found his voice, it shook with emotion.
" I love you too."
Literature
UKCan Drabble
Raven Dunbar 2012
Matthew sat in silence, staring down at the tea cup in his hands. His stomach was churning and his heart was sinking. Arthur knew the Canadian was upset, he could see the hurt on Matthew’s usually kind face. All he could do is sit in silence with the younger man for the time being, but inside he was boiling over with rage. How dare that American Bastard hurt his sweet Matthew. Silence hung in the air for a moment longer, and finally the Englishman spoke. He had to fight to hide the anger in his voice.
“Matthew … you know that Alfred can be selfish, and stubborn, but,” his words began to sting as
Literature
His Angel ch2
Matthew let out a gasp, running over to the tree, his heart pounding in his ears. He couldn't believe it, his angel was here! He grabbed a low branch, hoisting himself up until he was level with the angel. Looking closer, he saw that his eyes were shut and his lips were trembling, and there was a thick layer of ice coating his wings. Even Matthew, who was used to the freezing winters of Canada, was chilled to the bone; he couldn't imagine how cold his angle- whom was wearing very little clothing would be!
"E-Excuse me.." He began hesitantly, biting his lips and momentarily contemplating how stupid he was being.
Literature
Sercets
Alfred ran in panic down hallway after hallway, late for yet another meeting and a certain Englishman threatened the worst if it happened again! What room number what it again, he couldn't remember but figured he'd know it when he saw it. When he went up and down the same hall three times he started peeking into door windows and opening them to get a sneak peek inside just in case. Alfred was about to give up when he came upon the very last room in the hall, far to small to hold the meeting but someone was inside.
"Gil~ No...we can't...the meeting is going be soon." A soft and familiar voice sighed softly, like something nice or relaxing was
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Screaming in the dark, I howl when we're apart
drag my teeth across your chest to taste your beating heart,
The saints can't help me now, the ropes have been unbound
I hunt for you with bloody feet across the hallow'd ground
Be careful of the curse that falls on young lovers
Starts so soft and sweet and turns them to hunters
You are the moon that breaks the night for which I have to
Howl
Screaming in the dark, I howl when we're apart
drag my teeth across your chest to taste your beating heart,
The saints can't help me now, the ropes have been unbound
I hunt for you with bloody feet across the hallow'd ground
Be careful of the curse that falls on young lovers
Starts so soft and sweet and turns them to hunters
You are the moon that breaks the night for which I have to
Howl
© 2012 - 2024 Cryvolf
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oh. yes I already did before =w=