you can’t go backwards (only forward) [1/?]
anonymous
September 5 2009, 06:50:54 UTC
Not sure if you want it like this but prepare for some “ohshit angst” before anything hot and just “well fuck you too”.
--
They smell like rain.
England doesn’t hear the door shut behind him as America pulls him through into their- (America’s is that what he should be saying now?) home. Once the battle was won, there was no need for them to hold their weapons against each other, no- America had said, not any more.
Because now they aren’t anything.
If America is not his little brother, is not his friend, is not his ally, is not his anything any longer than what is he now? He is his enemy. To be told that now he was no longer that either-
England jerks out of his thoughts, mind torn like his insides feel, wretched and burning. When America takes his hands (he won’t ask if he’s alright) his eyes moisten with that question and England- England hates him for it. How dare he
( ... )
you can’t go backwards (only forward) [2/?]
anonymous
September 5 2009, 06:51:50 UTC
America looks down darkly (when had he gotten taller even if it was just a little just a scathing inch difference, to England it still felt miles high, it felt wrong it was) unnatural
( ... )
Re: Diamonds are a Girl's (...or France's) Best Friend!
anonymous
September 5 2009, 11:40:50 UTC
Oh I cracked up, I did... That was hilarious...
France... *sighs*
"Wow, France. What is that, your sixth rejection today? Did you really think anyone would agree to marry you?" Prussia, you shouldn't have said that...
Russia: *pops in from nowhere* France wants to be one with me, da?
Re: Diamonds are a Girl's (...or France's) Best Friend!
anonymous
September 5 2009, 23:25:18 UTC
That was hilarious! I love Romano's reaction at the end, and the line about seeing him at the G8 meeting next week. And Prussia at the end! Oh god, I think I'm going to die from laughing too hard.
The Alpha and the Omegle [1/?]
anonymous
September 3 2009, 00:43:12 UTC
America was in a good mood. Far too good of a mood, in fact. His whole body was jittering with pent up energy, and he had to let it out now. Usually when the self proclaimed Hero was in such high spirits, he would log onto his faithful computer, Liberty Bell, or Libby for short, and troll the ever loving Hell out of his fellow nations over one instant messenger service or another
( ... )
This technically fits the prompt, although England/nationalist!England would be a bit more accurate... yeah.
Tongue against his ear, breath across his neck, hands ghost up and down his body. He's shaking with the effort of keeping still. Of not reacting. His eyes are squeezed tightly shut, but they don't need to be open.
A chuckle, a pinch, and a kiss pressed absurdly to the nape of his neck. The water streams down. He has soap in his eyes and he concentrates on the sting.
Can't run away.
He gasps, his body jolts. His eyes are torn open and he stares desperately at the water running down the plughole.
I won't leave you.
Teeth graze his shoulder, he can feel the easy grin around them. Fingers skitter over his skin, playing him like a well-practiced instrument. His throat clogs with all the noises trying to make their way out.
I'm always with you.He shakes his head, but he can't shut his ears and the chuckle worms its way in and settles in his mind, replaying over and over. The fingers dig in, nails sharp and bruising. He is
( ... )
We've had fic about Japan apologizing to China, America apologizing to Japan, Germany apologizing to Poland, etc for various horrible things said countries did during WWII...now anon would like to see Russia apologize to Poland
( ... )
Meeting [1/?]
anonymous
September 28 2009, 01:01:55 UTC
Feliks couldn't say he had been totally shocked when the large, overbearing Ivan had appeared on his doorstep one afternoon, smiling brightly and holding a bottle of Russia's finest vodka in his hands
( ... )
Re: Meeting [2/?]
anonymous
September 28 2009, 01:05:35 UTC
The noise so irritating that the blond finally unlatched and swung open the door, green eyes blazing furiously towards the smiling man in front of him, whose hand was still up to repeat what he had been doing for the past five minutes
( ... )
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--
They smell like rain.
England doesn’t hear the door shut behind him as America pulls him through into their- (America’s is that what he should be saying now?) home. Once the battle was won, there was no need for them to hold their weapons against each other, no- America had said, not any more.
Because now they aren’t anything.
If America is not his little brother, is not his friend, is not his ally, is not his anything any longer than what is he now? He is his enemy.
To be told that now he was no longer that either-
England jerks out of his thoughts, mind torn like his insides feel, wretched and burning. When America takes his hands (he won’t ask if he’s alright) his eyes moisten with that question and England- England hates him for it. How dare he ( ... )
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Well actually, that would be a ridiculously long list so I won't. :(
Thank you so much for taking on the task of writing a fill for this, and what a wonderful fill it is turning out to be!
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GO FOR IT.
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"What the hell is that?"
The kneeling Nation looked briefly taken aback but quickly schooled his face into a smile.
"It's a diamond ring pour toi. Romano, will you marry me ( ... )
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France... *sighs*
"Wow, France. What is that, your sixth rejection today? Did you really think anyone would agree to marry you?"
Prussia, you shouldn't have said that...
Russia: *pops in from nowhere* France wants to be one with me, da?
Runs off too~
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Only to find each other randomly
Bonus for America/England~
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Showersex~
No Fem!England plz
:D
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Tongue against his ear, breath across his neck, hands ghost up and down his body. He's shaking with the effort of keeping still. Of not reacting. His eyes are squeezed tightly shut, but they don't need to be open.
A chuckle, a pinch, and a kiss pressed absurdly to the nape of his neck. The water streams down. He has soap in his eyes and he concentrates on the sting.
Can't run away.
He gasps, his body jolts. His eyes are torn open and he stares desperately at the water running down the plughole.
I won't leave you.
Teeth graze his shoulder, he can feel the easy grin around them. Fingers skitter over his skin, playing him like a well-practiced instrument. His throat clogs with all the noises trying to make their way out.
I'm always with you.He shakes his head, but he can't shut his ears and the chuckle worms its way in and settles in his mind, replaying over and over. The fingers dig in, nails sharp and bruising. He is ( ... )
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♥ ♥ ♥
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