Re: The Secret 5/??
anonymous
May 6 2010, 00:38:59 UTC
+++
England didn’t hear much from America for the remainder of the evening, save for the explosions and gun shots from the video game he was playing downstairs. Packing his belongings away into the dresser, England set his empty suitcase to the corner of the room and checked his watch again. Past midnight… He looked out the window of his room, finding the sun still setting in the western horizon. Groaning, he picked a book up and sat on the bed, determined not to let the jet lag get to him.
America… he’s hiding something from me. It has to be something big for him to keep stringing me along like this for six months… He opened the book and turned the bedside light on, his face scrunched in annoyance. I have to stay awake… wait for him to fall asleep. Then I’ll go into his room and find out whatever he’s hiding.
+++
Jarring himself awake, he gasped, finding the book he was reading laying across his chest. Damnit, I fell asleep! He glared at the digital clock at his bedside, red digital numbers reading 2:35am. His anger rapidly dissipating, England shoved the book off his chest and stood, turning his bedside light off, and made his way to the door. Grasping the brass knob, he twisted it and opened it slowly, poking his head out. The house was pitch black. Biting his lip, he slide out from the doorway and stepped over to America’s room.
The double doors were shut tight. England grasped the knobs and tried twisting them. Surprise flooded him.
Locked? He actually locked the doors to his room? Is this because I’m here?? England felt a broiling cascade of anger flooding his chest. Does he have so little faith in my word??
Glaring at the door, England turned and fled to the hallway bathroom, rifling through the drawers. Finding a pair of safety-pins, he stormed back to the door and, unhooking said pins, jammed the sharpened ends into the simple lock. Two seconds passed before an audible click sounded. I’ve still got it…!
Smirking, England re-hooked the safety pins and put them back into the bathroom drawer. Once a pirate, always a pirate I suppose.
Grasping the brass knobs once more, England carefully, quietly, opened the doors. Sliding through the crack, England turned and closed the doors once more. Wouldn’t do to have that damn alien catch me…
Turning, he found America curled on his side, huddled under the mass of blankets, only his stubborn Nantucket visible. Feeling his anger reside at the sight, England tiptoed over to the side of the bed. You still burrow under your sheets? smiling, England took hold of the bed sheets and carefully, delicately, pulled them down, revealing America’s sleeping face, with his left thumb fit snuggly between his lips-…wait.
England blinked once, twice, and felt something give way inside him.
America… sucks his thumb???
Mouth hanging open in shock, England gawked at the younger nation. Unable to move, speak or say anything for several seconds. He… he still sucks his thumb??
England couldn’t believe it.
America, who boasted about his heroic deeds and how awesome he was; America whom he’d fought against all those long years ago; America who never failed to boast about his early expanding status, his adventures and gunfights in his western lands… the same nation who stood with him in the world wars and bickered and stood his ground against Russia, both threatening nuclear apocalypse if one so much as sneezed the wrong way for the latter half of the previous century… still sucked his thumb.
Re: The Secret 5/?? (Part 2)
anonymous
May 6 2010, 00:40:06 UTC
Damn word limits!
America was curled on his left side, his feet drawn up and hands curled into his chest. His hair messily spread across the goose feather pillow. His face was smoothed and relaxed, very different from the America he was used to seeing. Always smiling and grinning that thousand watt smile of his.
And there, fit snugly between his pink lips was his thumb.
England stared at those lips securely fastened around America’s thumb. The lips that seemed oddly plump… not full, but not thin either… Were they always that plump? They always seemed thin from the smiles he gives… And their pink texture… it wasn’t obviously pink, of course, but more of a shade that barely registered pink… two plump lips… sucking… on that thumb…
i think my brain just shut down from glee. i'd offer you my firstborn, but i don't have one, so instead you can have one-ninth of my soul. i hear it's lovely there in the fall.
Unfortunately I won't be able to update for the next few hours, as I'm expecting company. but as soon as they leave, you can count on me continuing this x'D
Re: The Secret 5/?? (Part 2)
anonymous
May 6 2010, 03:34:50 UTC
Hey, author!anon, this is strangely fun to read, and England's graduall ... reaction is already making it hot. :O Also, jet lag was a simple but brilliant reason for England to be up; for whatever reason, that never occurred to me. XD;
I'm glad I checked back, since you're writing so fast!
Re: The Secret 5/?? (Part 2)
anonymous
May 6 2010, 04:00:55 UTC
I'm checking back like crazy this is SOOO awesome. I love the dynamics here and I REALLY love how Arthur takes care of his colony... XD So happy with this.
Re: The Secret 5/?? (Part 2)
anonymous
May 6 2010, 11:13:09 UTC
W-wow, the irony of England being pissed that America has so little faith in his word while breaking that very same word and picking the other man's lock is just ... epic! But then again, England is made up of contradictions like that, so I probably shouldn't be as amused as I am. XD
England didn’t hear much from America for the remainder of the evening, save for the explosions and gun shots from the video game he was playing downstairs. Packing his belongings away into the dresser, England set his empty suitcase to the corner of the room and checked his watch again. Past midnight… He looked out the window of his room, finding the sun still setting in the western horizon. Groaning, he picked a book up and sat on the bed, determined not to let the jet lag get to him.
America… he’s hiding something from me. It has to be something big for him to keep stringing me along like this for six months… He opened the book and turned the bedside light on, his face scrunched in annoyance. I have to stay awake… wait for him to fall asleep. Then I’ll go into his room and find out whatever he’s hiding.
+++
Jarring himself awake, he gasped, finding the book he was reading laying across his chest. Damnit, I fell asleep! He glared at the digital clock at his bedside, red digital numbers reading 2:35am. His anger rapidly dissipating, England shoved the book off his chest and stood, turning his bedside light off, and made his way to the door. Grasping the brass knob, he twisted it and opened it slowly, poking his head out. The house was pitch black. Biting his lip, he slide out from the doorway and stepped over to America’s room.
The double doors were shut tight. England grasped the knobs and tried twisting them. Surprise flooded him.
Locked? He actually locked the doors to his room? Is this because I’m here?? England felt a broiling cascade of anger flooding his chest. Does he have so little faith in my word??
Glaring at the door, England turned and fled to the hallway bathroom, rifling through the drawers. Finding a pair of safety-pins, he stormed back to the door and, unhooking said pins, jammed the sharpened ends into the simple lock. Two seconds passed before an audible click sounded.
I’ve still got it…!
Smirking, England re-hooked the safety pins and put them back into the bathroom drawer. Once a pirate, always a pirate I suppose.
Grasping the brass knobs once more, England carefully, quietly, opened the doors. Sliding through the crack, England turned and closed the doors once more. Wouldn’t do to have that damn alien catch me…
Turning, he found America curled on his side, huddled under the mass of blankets, only his stubborn Nantucket visible. Feeling his anger reside at the sight, England tiptoed over to the side of the bed. You still burrow under your sheets? smiling, England took hold of the bed sheets and carefully, delicately, pulled them down, revealing America’s sleeping face, with his left thumb fit snuggly between his lips-…wait.
England blinked once, twice, and felt something give way inside him.
America… sucks his thumb???
Mouth hanging open in shock, England gawked at the younger nation. Unable to move, speak or say anything for several seconds. He… he still sucks his thumb??
England couldn’t believe it.
America, who boasted about his heroic deeds and how awesome he was; America whom he’d fought against all those long years ago; America who never failed to boast about his early expanding status, his adventures and gunfights in his western lands… the same nation who stood with him in the world wars and bickered and stood his ground against Russia, both threatening nuclear apocalypse if one so much as sneezed the wrong way for the latter half of the previous century… still sucked his thumb.
It was oddly endearing, in a way.
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America was curled on his left side, his feet drawn up and hands curled into his chest. His hair messily spread across the goose feather pillow. His face was smoothed and relaxed, very different from the America he was used to seeing. Always smiling and grinning that thousand watt smile of his.
And there, fit snugly between his pink lips was his thumb.
England stared at those lips securely fastened around America’s thumb. The lips that seemed oddly plump… not full, but not thin either… Were they always that plump? They always seemed thin from the smiles he gives… And their pink texture… it wasn’t obviously pink, of course, but more of a shade that barely registered pink… two plump lips… sucking… on that thumb…
A dark shudder ran through him.
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i think my brain just shut down from glee. i'd offer you my firstborn, but i don't have one, so instead you can have one-ninth of my soul. i hear it's lovely there in the fall.
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I'm glad I checked back, since you're writing so fast!
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INORITE. He's pissed at America not trusting him but then he breaks into America's room.
NICE ONE, ARTHUR.
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